Her face was turned up, her eyes huge and dark, endless pools where stars dipped and glistened.
“You can be afraid,” I said, “but I’ll look after you. I won’t let anything hurt you.”
“Promise?” she said in a voice so small, it squeezed my heart.
“I promise.”
She nodded, and though her eyes were still wide, and her grip on my hand still tight, she took a step forward.
I pushed the bushes out of the way for both of us, then we ducked into the narrow crack in the side of the hill.
Chapter Thirteen
The darkness was so complete, it felt like I’d pressed my face against a cool wall. I blinked hard, impatient for my eyes to adjust to the lack of light.
Abbi tugged on my hand. “This way,” she whispered, as she slipped around and led me forward, nothing more than a slightly lighter blob of darkness in the darkness.
I strained to hear Lu’s footsteps, to hear Danube. I knew they were ahead of us, and this narrow passage only allowed one way forward, but I could not see or hear them in the crush of stone and silence.
“This way, this way,” Abbi whispered again, her soft words making more sound than even her feet, or my tight shoes on the stone.
For a moment, I felt like I was a spirit again, floating instead of touching earth, caught in that in-between, in a darkness where no other living things existed. Then a blazing slash of red broke the blackness—Lu’s dagger moving before she closed her palm over it again to dampen it—and knew I was here, in this world, the living world.
I inhaled the rot and pitch scent of the Hush. I nearly choked, my heart banging against my bones, warning. There was evil here. A nest, a swarm, and we were walking straight toward the fanged center of it.
“Abbi,” I whispered, but my throat was too dry to make the words.
We’d gone too far into the hills. I could see, just barely, but enough to know there were other paths now, holes punched out of the walls, low near our feet, too small for me to fit inside, but not too small for the Hush.
Abbi was still talking, maybe a whisper, maybe a shout, all of it damped, pillowed out, and softened by the pressing stone and darkness.
“Abbi,” I tried again, louder, as she tugged harder on my hand.
“Here, here,” she said. “He’s here. I can hear him.” She yanked, and I took a step with her, but tried to draw her back at the same time, feeling the strain, the lengthening of her body as she pulled away from me.
“Don’t let go, Abbi,” I said. “I can’t fit in those holes. You need to stay with me.”
A flash of green light blinded me. I hissed and covered my eyes, a slap of pain rocking through my brain.
“He’s here, he’s here!” Abbi slipped out of my hold, crouched like a little crab, and disappeared into a low tunnel in the wall.
“Wait, Abbi! No!” I shouted, my words falling dead in the air.
The green light dimmed enough, I could see we were at an intersection. To the right of me, the path diverted around a huge stone that had sheared off the wall. To the left, the ceiling jagged down almost to the floor. Above me were stalactites born wet thousands of years ago and still not dried out.
“Abbi? Abbi!” I crouched and tried to peer into the tunnel. It was empty. She was gone.
“Brogan,” Lu was suddenly there, her hand on my shoulder. “We have to go. Now!”
The Hush clattered down from the ceiling, skittering across the stalactites, jumping from shadow to shadow. The walls rattled with bones and carapaces wrapped in sticky magic that pulsated like spider silk breathing.
They were descending so quickly, I almost couldn’t clock their movements.
“Now, Brogan, now!” Lu pulled me up. But before I could take a step I was hit from above by something heavy that knocked me to my knees.
I tasted dirt and blood as I twisted, striking at the thing on my back with the lightning rod.
Magic crackled under my palm and the rod flashed. The Hush shrieked and fell away, but not before more and more took its place.
