After finishing up with Sirro, we went our separate ways. Jett, Caidan, and Kenton had gone to deal with the Widowmakers who distributed our magic-laced drugs on the eastern side of America, while my father traveled abroad to hunt down a beast. The timing of the kill was critical. The beast elusive. Once we possessed Brangwene’s Hjarte, my father would end the savage creature, and then we would transport the last pieces of what we had been collecting over the years to the Blacksmith.
Mela’s hoarse voice jolted me out of my thoughts. Her fingers relaxed their death grip on my vest. “I might not be right or okay. But I recognize it in you too. What’s going on?”
My mouth went bone dry. It was a long, drawn-out moment before I could confess quietly, “I’ve done somethingwrongfor the right reason.”
Mela eased herself back, just enough to sit up and look at me. She cupped the side of my face. Her hand was warm against my ice-cold cheek. “That’s easy to fix.”
I huffed a humorless laugh, my lips thinning as I shook my head,no.
The whites of her eyes were bloodshot and rimmed in red. “Do somethingrightfor therightreason. Fix it.”
It was too hard even to look at my friend as I spoke, my voice cracking. “I-I had to make a choice.”
Now it was her to huff a humorless laugh. “I’m sick of choosing. I’m sick of one or the other. Why can’t you have both?”
“Because there are two choices. Only two.”
“Fuck off.” The vehemence in her tone had my head jerking up. Her gaze was steely as she tapped her palm lightly against my cheek. “There’s always a third choice, Gray—don’t choose.”
As her words rolled around in my mind, I stared blankly at my friend.
Don’t choose…
And there was a fluttering idea, a thread so thin I could barely see, let alone grasp it, but I mentally reached for it—
Then her voice cleaved it in two, and it was gone.
“How did you breakthe tunnel?” she asked, looking up and frowning. She used my shoulder to pull herself up. “Gods, Gray,” she muttered, brushing dust off her arm before offering me her hand, “remind me never to piss you off near a load-bearing—” Her voice snagged. The half-formed joke crumpled as her mouth trembled and fresh tears glistened.
I took her hand and squeezed her fingers. She drew in a slow breath, twisting away to wipe her eyes and gather herself.
“Yeah,” I replied quietly, pushing to my feet, “the catacombs are doing a fine job collapsing on their own.”
That earned me a small, tremulous smile.
Eyeing the rubble, I rubbed my chin. I had no fucking idea how I broke the tunnel. Though I had superior strength, it was nothing like that. I flexed my fingers. The wounds on my knuckles had already healed, and only the residue of crimson crusted the skin. So caught up with my fury, I hadn’t even been aware of what was hissing through my blood.
The soles of my boots scraped against rock as I shifted around, taking in my surroundings. We were standing in a small cavern, a burrow perhaps.
Though we’d followed several scents and tracked down mindless creatures, we hadn’t encountered Yezekael. Howeveryesterday, we’d picked up a trail that led us deeper. Maybe it was Yezekael, maybe not.
As my gaze swung wide, I realized this wasn’t a krekenn nest, and as I dragged in the same scent we’d hunted yesterday, I knew deep in my gut who this belonged to.
A second later, Mela voiced the same thought. “Yezekael.” She moved to a wall and slowly walked along the length of the rock face that had been gutted out and turned into shelves. Her headlamp bobbed with her motion, and its light skimmed a collection of odd bits and pieces covered in a thick layer of dust.
I strode to the center of the chamber, my boots crunching over grit and shattered debris, to something that took up a good chunk of the burrow. A nest had been built from the age-mottled bones of mortals and otherworldly creatures, with shredded fabric, feathers, and matted fur softening the ramshackle structure. As if Yezekael were a magpie and liked to keep shiny, sparkly things close by, were treasures stolen from those it had killed and consumed and tucked within the macabre nest. I noticed an object that shone dully. Curious, I bent down, picked it up, and dangled it from my dusty fingertips. An expensive golden chain with interlinked diamonds crusted with dirt. As the length of gold and gems spun around, it spun something in my memory. A spark of a thread I followed.A necklace.Maybe it was thinking of my mother, maybe, but a thought jarred my mind.
My mother…my aunt.
Years ago, Aunt Valarie had given my mother a necklace as a gift. A simple pearl pendant. She loved it so much she wore it every single day unless she was going out to meet with another House.Then, she’d wear one of those priceless pieces of jewelry from our treasury. Last week my aunt was wearing the necklace she’d given my mother…
Which meant…
I sucked in a sharp breath.
Hellsgate…
My mother hadn’t been wearing the simple pearl necklace the day the Horned Gods stole her. Which meant she had to have met up with someone important from one of the Houses that day.
