Page 54 of Death Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Faith made a disgusted sound that could have been a full sentence.

Eve’s eyes tracked across the screen. “We have to return to the council chambers. Now.”

Nishi’s gaze sharpened. “Did she say why?”

Eve’s mouth tightened. “No. She doesn’t do reasons. She does orders.”

Tegan rubbed her temple. “That’s not ominous at all.”

Faith headed for the SUV. “Fine. Let’s go get yelled at in marble luxury.”

We returned to Faith’s vehicle. And I climbed in, still feeling the disk like a cold current in my pocket.

As we drove back toward Raven Street, the city looked worse. Not quieter. Worse.

Even away from downtown, I saw people in doorways, phones raised, faces lit by screens. I saw a couple arguing on a corner, one insisting it was fake, the other insisting it wasn’t, both loud enough to draw a crowd.

New comments. New shares. New panic.

We pulled up in front of the Magnetic Boutique, the pink storefront standing out against the darker businesses as if it were trying to pretend the world was normal.

Nancy’s sign was still lit.

Which meant either she didn’t know what was happening downtown, or she had decided capitalism didn’t stop for zombies.

We rushed inside and made our way to the stalls.

The door was closed.

Faith didn’t knock. She yanked it open and stepped in as if she owned the place.

The portal shimmered against the far wall, subtle if you didn’t know what you were looking for. The air folded, a thin ripple like water in moonlight.

We stepped through.

The world shifted.

Then we were inside the council chambers.

Marble columns rose around us, white stone veined with gray. Torchlight flickered along the walls, throwing warm shadows across the massive room. The live-edge table dominated the center, polished dark wood that looked like it could handle war meetings and ritual sacrifices without staining.

The magical board filled one wall, pulsing with points of red light that seemed to multiply every time I blinked.

Lucinda sat at the table with Caton beside her, both of them wearing the kind of calm that came from believing other people existed to absorb consequences. Carnell lounged at the table too, looking annoyingly composed, like he’d had time to refresh his cologne and his ego.

Elijah, was there this time. He looked attentive, posture controlled, eyes watchful.

Greyson stood near the table, not seated, hands on his hips as if he’d been pacing. Jeans, T-shirt, calm face that didn’t quite hide the strain in his eyes. He looked as if he’d been up for hours.

Faith stepped in and paused.

Greyson’s gaze lifted, and he winked at her as if this were a casual evening and not an apocalypse.

Faith rolled her eyes, but I saw the flicker in her face. The tiny shift that said she was relieved to see him.

“Greyson,” she muttered.

“Hey, Babe,” he said lightly.