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“It feels like purgatory.”

Esme nods. Finally, we agree on one thing.

My mind wanders as we pick up the pace. I don’t like any of this. I think I’d rather have Zeru trying to kill me again. I’m already checking over my shoulders for enemies. If the Graywatch return, they’ll seize us along with the rest of this poor village.

I also don’t like that I want to tug Esme against me until that brittle rigidity of hers breaks.

Foolish. So incredibly foolish.

She’s a liar. A thief. Someone I don’t know and can’t trust. I need to always remember that about her.

We arrive at the village boundary, where the last empty building gives way to more gray fields and the road continues its winding path toward only the gods know what.

The air around us grows cold.

One moment, it’s a normal spring day. The next, a winter chill descends without warning.

A light touch shivers across my skin. Not the wind. Not the swaying trees. More a sense of wrongness settling over my shoulders like the invisible hands of a giant. It’s the same chill I experienced in the tavern in Edgehallow, right before that man got the Hushing Sickness.

Every hair on my body rises, and I jump backward. My wings nearly unfurl, but I will them to remain tucked away, not wanting to expose myself to Esme. Whatever’s lurking about is dangerous, lethal, and brutal in a dull, lifeless way. I spot a ripple of distortion in the light near the side of the road, and I grip Esme’s elbow as I pull her away from it.

“What the fuck is this?”

“I don’t know.” Her face drains of color, her healthy tan transitioning to a sickly gray-white. One hand rubs her temple, her fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.

The knots in my gut multiply. “What is it? What’s happening?”

“I don’t…” Her jaw clenches. “I can’t…”

“Can’t what?”

“I don’t know! There’s… I can feel a presence, but I can’t… I don’t understand…”

She stumbles, and I catch her elbow before she falls. Even through her sleeve, her skin is ice-cold.

The ripple of distortion eases onto the road and heads toward us. Cold swallows me, causing my teeth to chatter.

“We’re leaving.” I haul her down the road, away from the village and whatever the hells is stalking us, because something is stalking us. Like recognizes like.

We continue to increase our pace. By the time we put fifty yards between us and the village boundary, we’re nearly running.

Feeling eyes on my neck, I look back once.

The villagers stand in a loose cluster at the edge of their dead town like a family of horrors. They watch us with empty eyes that somehow still track our movement.

My skin crawls, and my mouth shrivels and dries.

This is insane. Completely insane.

But those people and that village were real. That void in the earth was real. And whatever circled us at the village boundary was real, even if I don’t understand what it could be. Which means Esme’s desperation isn’t a con.

Regardless of what else she’s lying about—and I’m sure there’s plenty—her homeland is dying. And she’s attempting to save it with the Everhand.

It’s either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.

I know a lot about both of those things.

Chapter Nine