Wren yawnedagain.
“This is a good place to rest. Get some sleep, and I’ll keep watch,” Itoldher.
“There’s nothing to watch and what about the jinn? Are we far enough awayfromthem?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll stay awake and alert for anythingcoming.”
“Okay.”
I heard the scratch of something sliding down the rocks. When Wren spoke again, her voice came from lower thanbefore.
“Corson?” shemurmured.
She was so tired that she’d said my name. I didn’t point that out to her as I slid down the wall to sit beside her; it would only shut her down if Idid. “Yes?”
“How many seals werethere?”
“Two hundredthree.”
“Shit,” she whispered. “And there was something different behind eachofthem?”
“Yes. The jinn were behind the ninetieth seal and the ouroboros behind the eighty-second.”
“And you’re sureallthesealsfell?”
“I am, but not everything behind the seals broke free of Hell. Some were killed before they could reach Earth, and others were trapped in Hell when the gateway closedagain.”
“At least there’s a bright side,” shemurmured.
“Thereis.”
Her soft breaths filled the air, and I realized she’d fallen asleep sitting up. After a few minutes, she slumped toward me and her head dropped to my shoulder. A strange sense of tranquility settled over me as her body warmed mine while I listened for something stalking us through the tunnels. I’d cut them to pieces before they got anywherenearher.
ChapterFourteen
Wren
“Here you go, mybonniegirl.”
I clasped the silver spoon my mother extended to me. Some of the batter was sliding to the side and threatening to fall off, but I licked it away before any of the precious dough could plop onto the floor. My feet thudded against the cabinet under me as I swung them back and forth while sitting on thecounter.
Twisting the spoon, I rotated it to get more batter as some slipped down to settle on my fingers. I’d save that for after I cleaned off the spoon. My mother scooped out little balls of dough from the glass bowl before her and plopped them onto the cookiesheet.
Three years ago, we’d started the tradition of baking cookies once a week when my dad had started working Saturdays in the summer. We’d decided it would be our special way to make his weekendbetter.
When my dad came home from work, he’d kick off his shoes and inhale whatever new concoction my mom and I had whipped up for him. He would then call for his lasses. His Scottish accent had faded over his years in the States, but it was still noticeable. It was most noticeable when he said lass, which always made megiggle.
When I heard him arrive, I’d leap off the counter and run eagerly into his open arms, while my mom patiently waited her turn to kiss him. Tugging on my father’s red beard was the way I greeted him every time we were reunited, and he would swing me around until both of us became dizzy and couldn’t breathe from laughing. I couldn’t wait for him to come home today as we were baking his favoritecookies.
Though both my parents had come from Scotland as children, they hadn’t met each other until they were in their twenties. Both of them had gone to the same college in Kansas and happened to meet at a coffee shop. My mother had accidentally dumped her ice coffee in myfather’slap.
My mom once confided in me that it hadn’t been an accident. When she’d heard him talking with his friends, her curiosity was piqued, and she’d been determined to talk to him. Due to her shyness, she hadn’t known how to approach him and had thought her ice coffee would be a good way to break the ice. My father later confided in me that it hadn’t been an accident and he’d been so intrigued by her that he’d accidentally tripped her. Cold, wet clothes had been a small price to pay for love, he’ddeclared.
The way they told it, they’d been inseparable ever since, and I often asked them to tell me their story while they were tucking me into bed atnight.
I licked the spoon again as, through the open window behind me, the birds’ songs floated on the hot July air. Usually, we made the cookies earlier in the day before it became this hot out, but we’d had to go to the store for more ingredients before baking today. The heat of the oven would make the kitchen unbearable soon, but it was worth it for my dad to have his oatmealcookies.
I was almost done licking the spoon when a strangewhooshwent through the air. I had no idea what had caused it, but it blew the hair back from my face and silenced the day. My tongue froze on the spoon; I didn’t move as I tried to figure out if what I’d experienced was real. It had looked like the whoosh created a blast of air across the room like ripples spreading out from a stone tossed intoalake.
