She turns to me. "You need to stay here. If anyone spots you, or if I don't come back in ten minutes, you leave," she says, her hand already on the door handle. "Don't wait for me."
She opens the door, and I grab her arm.
"Wait. How do I know?—"
"I know you may worry I won’t come back, but know that I want this all over just as much as you do. I'll come back."
She squeezes my hand, and I let go.
I watch her walk away, her silhouette disappearing into the crowd.
I rub my face and smell her scent on my skin.
God, in a different life, under different circumstances, I'd...
My phone buzzes. A text from Declan about a pickup from Ares Kastaris coming from Chicago.
We text back and forth to finalize some details, and then I glance up.
Zaria's walking fast back toward my car, holding something in her hand.
She opens the door and gets in, breathless. "Okay. Your robe and mask. You sure about this?"
"Yes," I say. "Are you?"
She hesitates, then nods. "I'm channeling my inner Alexander the Great right now. You know..."
"Nervous before every battle. Yes, I remember," I say, finishing her sentence. "But like you said, it didn't matter. He won in the end."
She flashes a small smile. "Okay. Put it on. Let's go. They're about to start."
I put the robe on. "We're here for Brother George. We're not leaving here until we find him."
"Yes," she says, fixing her mask. "I'll deliver him to you."
I step out of the car, adjusting everything.
The robe has a deep hood that comes to a point and goes so far forward it almost covers your face. You need to tug on the robe or pull it back slightly just to see.
The mask is square-like, black with feathers stitched along the edges. It covers everything from your nose up to your forehead.
I adjust my gun to make sure it's not noticeable and walk around the car to Zaria.
She looks me over. "Perfect. Come on."
Inside, a man stops us. Zaria takes my hand and tells him she's a woman of the Morrígan who brought me to witness her glory.
He looks me over, then nods. They put a sticker on my right shoulder and motion for us to go.
We start walking down a dark hallway, and Zaria doesn't let go of my hand.
I don't pull away, just following her lead like she told me to do.
She leads me into a massive open room. At the center stands a towering, three-headed statue of the Morrígan.
The entire place smells of incense and something sweet, honey maybe, or burnt sugar. There are benches scattered around, altars covered in candles, relics, and pictures of the Morrígan collecting the dead on battlefields.
It looks like something ripped straight out of a nightmare.
