“Kirill!” I screamed and ran toward him.
Kirill lost his grip on the Pasha and went down, his hands going to the dagger in his neck. He yanked it out, then covered the wound with his paw-like hands. I was steps away from him when something wrapped around my neck. It yanked me back, off my feet, and I hit someone. An arm latched around my waist while the cord tightened. I couldn't breathe.
As I choked, something cold locked around my wrist. My magic stuttered, then went out. My vision went wonky. I gasped and pulled at the noose. Movement came, but I couldn't see. Couldn't focus. A flash of chaos. The Aether. Oh, fuck. Katila had made it to the tracing room.
He had won.
Katila dropped me. I fell onto my knees, then forward onto my hands. Shudders wracked my body. I gasped, spat, and opened my eyes. We were back in Naraka, but Ekwensu, or whoever he was, wasn't there. Manacles encased my wrists, no chain between them. Before me was Katila's house, a mammoth thing of gilded domes and carved fretwork walls. At first, my air-starved mind thought it was Russian. But then I realized the construction was Indian. Russian. Oh, fuck—Kirill.
He had to be all right. I would have felt it if Kirill had died. And he was a god now. Only beheading could kill him. A stab in the neck would only slow him down, even if it was done with Death's dagger. He was Death, after all.
No, it wasn't Kirill I had to worry about.
I stumbled to my feet as Katila fastened the Pasha around his neck. He looked pleased, but also expectant. His stare was focused on the tracing building. I turned to look at it. Katila couldn't possibly know that my friends and husbands could follow us. Could he? No. He'd have to know about Torrent, and very few people knew about Torr.
And yet Katila kept staring.
I backed away.
Katila's hand flicked toward me and a cage formed around me, rising from the ground to lock into place over my head. Very medieval, with iron bars that came to a rounded top. I grabbed the bars to test them, as every prisoner must do.
“Easy, my love,” Katila said. “Your husbands will be here soon. Then I can kill them, and we can be united at last.”
“Naraka is warded,” I said. “They won't be able to come after me.”
Katila lifted his brows at me and smirked.
“You dropped your ward?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes.
No. He couldn't know about Torrent.
“How do you expect them to get through?” I tried again.
“Come now, Vervain. There shouldn't be lies between us. I know about your Internet friend.”
“What Internet friend?”
Annoyed, he turned to face me and planted his hands on his hips. “Torrent. I know he can open wards. Now, shush!”
Reeling under that gem, I didn't react to the shush right away. I was too busy trying to figure out who the hell had told Katila about Torrent. Had he learned things in the Void? Was that how the trickster knew things? But no. None of the other gods who had returned from the Void came back with secret knowledge. And I'd been to the Void. It wasn't a place that unraveled the mysteries of the universe for you. It was just a holding cell for souls.
“How do you know about Torrent?” I finally asked.
“Ah! Here they are!” Katila clapped his hands.
As Katila clapped, the landscape changed. The Asian garden became a desert, flat as far as I could see. Granted, that wasn't as far as usual, what with my magic subdued. But still, it went on and on. Black-shrouded souls spotted that vastness, hunched over empty baskets and cribs. Baby cribs? Yeah, baby cribs without babies in them. And the souls wailed at the lack.
Those wailing souls didn't even notice us. They didn't look up, not even when the ward of Naraka disintegrated and gods poured through the tracing building. In the lead were my husbands, Fenrir, Jesus, and Lucifer. Behind them was the reason they were late. I had thought they had needed some time to heal, but that wasn't it. They were calling for backup.
My Intare had come, but also a huge amount of Froekn, maybe all of them. A sacred squadron of Angels stood behind Jesus, a bunch of Demons (there's no pretty name for a unit of Demons) was with Lucifer, the Valkyries had come for Odin, and Anubis had brought his Jackals. Among the Angels were Azrael's buddies, the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, and Az rode with them on his pale horse. That was a sight I hadn't seen in a while.
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
It was awe-inspiring, part of the awe inspired by the speed at which this conjoined army had assembled. And it warmed my soul to see all these gods storming a territory for me. It was also monumental, glorious, and a bit ridiculous. They were there to fight one man. One single man.
But the first thought in my head, the thought that overwhelmed all others, was—Torrent's secret is out.
