The house was shaking apart. It took every bit of my strength to hold on to the board, and strength I didn’t know I had to yank it free.
Then the clean crack of a storm breaking open filled the air. I could smell rain, cool and fresh as lightning, that pierced the endless thunder.
This was magic. Different magic.
This was god power.
Cupid.
The floor dissolved into sand revealing Lula.
Blindfolded, gagged, hands tied behind her back, feet bound together, Lula kicked again, as she had been kicking this whole time. But there was no floor above her.
I dodged the strike and pressed my palm to her face.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, you’re okay, we’re okay.” I was babbling, not caring what came out of my mouth, unable to hear my voice. I pushed the blindfold off her eyes and worked the gag down to her chin.
She breathed my name, her lips swollen and bleeding, her eyes blown from the sudden light. I needed to untie her hands, her boots, but time, as the seer had said, was not on our side.
I scooped Lula into my arms. Abbi was where the doorway had been, frantically motioning me forward. Lorde ran that way and I followed. Hado, now a giant, silent panther, ran beside me.
The god who had been Mad Mat was now molten fire, skin a roiling hellscape, volcanos for eyes. It clutched the book between its hands and roared.
A silver arrow sliced through its chest.
Cupid no longer looked like a biker. He was a towering, massive, powerful being with murder in his eyes and a deadly bow in his fist. Battle armor covered his chest and legs, inscribed with symbols that shifted and rewrote themselves, merging and snapping apart, generating and channeling his power. Huge wings, supernova bright, carved the sky above him.
He notched another arrow to his string and sent it singing through the god’s head. The god that had been Mad Mat stumbled to its knees.
Cupid spared us a glance, notched another arrow, and shot it into the ground.
The earthquake rumbled and stalled out. But the sky, the air, the world itself streaked with hissing bolts of blackness, as if someone were pulling a thread and unraveling reality.
Cupid. God of connections and destruction. He could destroy any reality if he wanted.
This reality, this illusion made by the god who had been Mad Mat, was shredding apart.
The fiery god roared and rushed Cupid.
An explosion rocked the world.
Abbi grabbed my sleeve and pulled. I stumbled after her, the damned brace slowing me. She leaped ahead, quicker and more nimble than me, then came back, urging me to run fast, faster.
With Lula in my arms, I could only manage a slow jog, and even then, I was losing my breath, losing my strength. Wherever this reality was, I didn’t think Lula and I were going to make it out.
“Run,” I gasped. “Abbi, run.”
She made a frustrated sound, then jumped and stared up into the sky.
“Oh,” she said. “Owls.”
The arc of the heavens was made of feathers, soft and silent. The owls, hundreds, thousands, flew through the air, a wing, a wave of speed and hunt. Looking. They were looking for us.
The utter quiet of that many living creatures so close above us struck a familiar chord.
“Eunice,” I croaked, no longer running. “I chose your reed. Over the book. I have it. I have your reed.”
The wings swooped closer, hovering in the air and enveloping us, soft as a breath, a sigh.
