The big Weaver looked at her for a long moment, as if deciding what the best approach would be with her. Then he said, “I can’t guarantee anything. Even if we were facing an unskilled witch, two hostages would make it difficult. Historically, we’ve never done well in the Underground. If she gets away…”
“Then that will be it,” Gentry finished. “If she’s as skilled a soul seamstress as her sister, then all she has to do is get away with her life and find another body to steal.”
“So let me summarize,” Adrienne said, “if you kill Freya, then Gentry could die. But even if we ignore that little detail, the bitch has two hostages. Oh, and we have to do something because she’s about to horrifically mangle the souls of the said two hostagestonight.”
Wren leaned into her girlfriend. “That pretty much sums it up,” she said glumly, “and we can’t sever Gentry’s bond with Freya because it gives us informationandme hacking off about 95% of it last night didn’t even faze the woman. I don’t think that she can die.”
All four of them lapsed into silence, the bustle of witch scientists and alchemists doing little to brighten the mood. The odd fluorescent lighting reminded Gentry of the Underground and all the days she’d wasted in her father’s apartment trying to save herself. Perhaps it was time to accept that she was doomed.
She jumped as an idea hit. The situation was doomed if they tried to save everybody… “Let me meet Freya in the Underground,” she said, and all three witches stared at her like she was insane, but she continued anyway, “I’m serious. Kit andAmelia are just bodies to her. She can get them anywhere. But me? She wants to kill me to break the bond and truly disappear. So let me negotiate and get Kit and Amelia away from her. My life is in danger whether I’m there or not. If it doesn’t work, then the enforcers can sweep in.”
The responses were immediate, and exactly what she expected:
“That’s… stupid.”
“Gentry, youcan’t!”
“What do you need for this plan to work?”
Gentry only responded to Luke’s question, “Get me to my father’s apartment, and we’ll be set.”
The Underground varied in infrastructure and population every bit as much as the surface could. Freya had chosen her next location to be in Skadra’s abandoned subway system rather than the mirrored Underground beneath the magical shops and homes that stretched across Skadra. In different spots, the two did connect, but the subway system was used almost exclusively for vampyres gone feral and who were so out of control that their own kind shunned them.
Gentry had sensed the difference as soon as she’d descended into the subway system, a flashlight her only source of light. Unlike the other Underground, this place had no torches or niceties such as shops or houses. No, this place was all concrete and abandonment, its uniqueness being that she didn’t see a single homeless person or anyone taking a walk; the people who lived inthisUnderground didn’t want to be seen.
An enforcer walked silently beside her, but only for the purpose of making sure the vamps didn’t eat her. Gentry readjusted her backpack as they jumped from the subwayplatform down into the tunnels. She’d already seen the route in Freya’s head, knew exactly which holes to turn down. Then the enforcer would leave her on her own and wait with the reinforcements.
The small panic button Luke had given burned a hole in her pocket.Press it when it’s time,he’d told her,and we should respond within thirty seconds.
She hadn’t bothered telling him that thirty seconds alone with a powerful witch might as well have been an eternity, because Luke surely knew that. So she’d pocketed the device and laughed because it operated on batteries.
The distant echoes of snarls and inner vamp fighting were the only signs they weren’t alone, but Gentry felt a little comforted by the fact that none approached. It’d be a little ironic if she was eaten by a vamp before she met a much more dangerous monster.
They arrived at Freya’s intended location after about a mile of walking. For this part of the Underground, it had certain… features. It was where a tunnel had collapsed and some of the pieces of concrete conveniently resembled furniture if one squinted. A large tall piece for a chair, a smaller one for an ottoman. A long flat shelf that could serve as a table for food.
Or for killing a wonderful man and turning him into a vampyre.Gentry knew exactly why Freya had chosen this place.
“Okay,” she told the enforcer, her voice shaking a bit, “I’m all good. You can leave now.”
Unperturbed, the expressionless witch left.
Gentry sat on the concrete chair and closed her eyes, internally watching each step that brought Freya closer to her.
fifty-seven
Freya
Freya relaxed a marginal amount once she managed to slip into the Underground unnoticed, the little girl and man floating like marionettes in step with her. Although it had been five years, this place had once been like a second home to her. Her decades of disfigurement hadn’t made…blendingin with vampyre kind very easy, and so she’d enjoyed taking her rage out on the skill-less nomads with her teeth and fists. She almost missed having fangs.Almost.
She far preferred being a witch. If anything, the fact that, as a vampyre, she hadn’t had magic had been the worst kind of hell. That was why Lydia had worked hard for so many years to perfect body snatching techniques, had looked for the perfect host body that would let Freya yield magic again.
That she’d chosen her own great-nephew for Freya’s chosen host body had only made Freya love her sister more.
Granted, this body didn’t quite draw magic the way her old one had, required more vents to stay healthy, but it wasn’t bad. The Netherton brat hadn’t been completely without talent. But the girl she was towing would be a significant improvement.
Looking forward to her evening, Freya expertly navigated through the darkness of the tunnels, the spell she’d cast making her eyes every bit as adept with darkness as any vamp’s. She smiled as she recognized some of the hisses and growls that vamps used to nonverbally communicate with each other. They recognized her scent, were warning each other that she wasn’t quite as she appeared.
Her mood crashed when she saw a thin, dark-haired woman sitting in her spot, a gun pressed to her own temple.
