Page 120 of When the Sky Breaks

“You’re insane,” I said. “You know that, right?”

“We’re fighting portals to hell,” Ansel countered.

“So. Stipend? Sacrifices? Are they letting the beasts kill humans? Or are they using animal bodies too?” Sorcha asked.

“Best I can tell they’re using animals most of the time,” Ansel replied. “But seems for particularly challenging requests where repeated animal sacrifices haven’t worked? They push people toward sacrificing humans. Often? Themselves. Family members. Say your old dad is dying and you’ve been trying to get him cured? They’ll say you give yourself to the beast and it’s guaranteed he’ll survive.”

Sorcha suppressed a shudder. I grimaced.

“But I don’t know who runs it,” Ansel said. “Don’t know the inner workings. Just know I heard a coal shoveler from the rail yard leave sobbing because he didn’t have three weeks’ wages for a deposit.”

“They’re taking deposits?” Sorcha asked, stunned.

“They’re running a business,” Ansel replied. “One we can patronize.”

“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” I said immediately.

“Not if we prepare,” Sorcha countered.

“You cannot honestly be considering this?” I asked.

“We need to find out what’s going on,” Sorcha said. “We need to learn anything about the portals we can. Neal, one of those things killed my dad.”

“And if we aren’t careful one will kill you too,” I snapped.

Sorcha went still, face pale. She wrenched her hand out of mine.

“We’re being careful,” she mumbled, looking down at the table, her hands going to her belly. “I’m taking good care of them.”

“That came out wrong,” I sighed, rubbing my temples.

“He’s not wrong,” Ansel said, voice uncharacteristically gentle. “We need to be cautious. We need a way out. A way to kill one of the beasts if it comes after us. A planned maximum duration we let ourselves be exposed to that kind of magic.”

Sorcha just shrugged.

“Give us a minute, Ansel?” I asked.

He nodded. “I’ll go draw up some plans. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Sorcha,” I said as Ansel left, “love, look at me. Please.”

Sorcha shook her head. There were tears on her cheeks now.

“You think I’m going to die? You think I’m being reckless?” Sorcha asked, voice shaking.

“I don’t think you’re going to die. I don’t think you’re being reckless,” I said. “Every choice you’ve made since the day I married you has been about preserving the Court, the dynasty, hell—humanity. I’m fairly sure the most reckless thing you’ve done was kiss me in front of Lady Guinevere. Though smuggling Milkweed onto a steamship may be on the list as well.”

Sorcha cracked a smile.

“I don’t want to see you in danger,” I said. “Either of you.”

“Neither do I,” Sorcha agreed, “but if we go ourselves then we get the information directly and we can move faster. And if that’s what it takes to get those godawful cultists out of the world?”

“Then that’s what we’ll do. But we need to be safe. We need to be smart.” I paused. “I’m sorry I said what I did. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Sorcha finally looked up at me, wetness streaking her flushed cheeks. She chuckled darkly. “I’m scared literally all the time, Neal. It’s not your fault.”

“One day it won’t be like this,” I said gently.