Alex flinched, but when it became clear I couldn’t hurt him, his expression pulled into a smirk. “Didn’t Felipe teach you not to pull your punches?”
He was taunting me, exactly like he used to taunt monsters, baiting them into foolish attacks or celebrating their defeat. Instead of goading me, his words brought clarity. I’d hoped so desperately that this cruelty was R’gngyk speaking through him, turning him into something he wasn’t. Something he’d never been.
These weren’t the words of some forgotten horror. Whatever Ringo had done to him—whatever he’d done to himself—at the heart of this monstrosity was Alex. And he didn’t want to be saved.
He dragged me toward the basement stairs. “I’m sorry it all turned out this way.”
“Are you?” How long had this resentment festered? “All those years of saving the world, and this is what you became?”
“I became strong,” he said. “You weren’t strong enough, and it broke you.”
Descending into the basement was like entering an arctic Salvador Dali painting. If there was a mystical veil between different dimensions, Alex had torn enough holes in that veil to turn it into a doily.
Each step sagged under my weight. The wooden railing felt ancient, covered in dust and mold and rot. Paint flaked away at the slightest touch. Icy fog dulled the lights.
The air smelled of salt and sulfur. Sickly yellow frost covered the basement floor and most of the walls.
A six-foot-tall triangle of dark green flame burned on the south wall. Smoky characters wavered within the flames. The triangle’s interior hurt to look at. The cracked limestone inside the triangle pulsed like an exposed organ. Flakes of white rock fell to the floor.
The spell wasn’t the only addition to our basement. Two of Alex’s thralls stood to either side of the flames. They pressed against the wall like leeches, gripping the stone with their bodies and limbs. Each had extended one arm into the green fire, but their flesh didn’t burn.
“They’re feeding,” said Alex. “Sharing their bounty.”
Feeding on our home and passing what they consumed through the portal to R’gngyk. I turned away and clutched my stomach to keep from vomiting.
“Try not to look directly at any of this,” Alex warned. “Your mind isn’t strong enough to handle it.”
I didn’t have to look. I felt the wrongness like oozing wounds in my own flesh. The need to hunt burned, my blood quickened...and I could barely force my fingers into a fist, let alone throw a punch. I’d accepted the contract when I entered the house. I was powerless to hurt Alex or anyone else.
Alex spread his arm and tentacle, basking in the green light. “The more R’gngyk stirs, the more his power enters me. And before you say it, I have control over the process. There will be no wiener-dog incidents today.”
“Were you always this stupid, or is it a side effect of letting Ringo into your head?” I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. “The fact that you did that in the first place argues for preexisting stupidity, but—”
The blow from his tentacle knocked me to the ground and sent me sliding through the gross, putrid frost. I was pretty sure he’d popped a couple of my ribs out of place.
“You’re not here to mock,” he snapped. “You’re here to witness.”
IT’S TIME, JENNIFER.
I’d hoped to buy Annette and Ronnie more time to rouse Temple and undo Alex’s spellwork, but Artemis was right. This had to stop.
“Beloved Artemis, goddess of the hunt,” I murmured. The words were meditative. “Fleet of foot and keen of vision, hunter and guardian, whose aim is ever true.”
Alex turned back. “Stop that. Don’t speak your weak goddess’s name in this place.”
“Your servant calls to you,” I continued as I stood. “As a child I took up your bow. As a maiden I worshipped you. As a Hunter I slew those that threatened the natural cycle of this world. Hear my plea—”
A gunshot interrupted my words. The impact was like I’d been punched in the chest by a granite statue.
Alex held a silver revolver in his hand. A thread of smoke rose from the barrel. “Felipe made you train with swords and bows and spears and knives and wooden stakes. Do you remember the bullwhip drills? Slicing soda cans in half and putting out candleflames like you were Indiana Jones. All those weapons. I never understood why they didn’t just hand you a gun.”
I sagged against the wall. Blood pumped from the hole in my chest. A distant part of me pondered what exactly the bullet had struck. The right atrium, maybe?
“Hear my plea.” I couldn’t get a full breath. The bullet might have struck a lung, too. “Take this vessel as your own.” I tasted blood. Not good. I abandoned the rest of the formal prayer, saying only, “Help me save the children trapped above.”
Among her other roles, Artemis was the protector of children and young girls.
Alex stepped closer and pointed the gun at my face. I searched his eyes for any trace of guilt or regret, any sign of compassion for his former friend.
