But Tanguro is destroyed, and Solis is soon to follow.
Ry and Dellin are asleep on their bedrolls. Dayne is sitting cross-legged on the hard floor. One hand is grasped around nothing, like he’s holding the phantom of his lute. When he sees me, he rises to his feet in a fluid motion.
“What does the bad man say?” Ekil asks.
Before I can answer, Dellin starts to moan.
“No, no, no.” She writhes on her bedroll.
Ry jolts awake, looks around like she doesn’t remember where she is, and then turns to Dellin.
“I don’t want to—” Dellin’s face is streaming with sweat and tears as she clutches at the side of the bedroll.
“Dell?” Ry leans over the girl. When she doesn’t wake up, Ry shakes her. “Dellin, you’re dreaming.”
“I don’t want to remember!” The power of her shriek stuns Ry, so when Dellin punches her across the jaw, Ry doesn’t even try to deflect it.
I cross the room in two strides and wrench Dellin’s hands down to her sides. I loosen my grip when I realize the other girl is crying; her shoulders shake with great, heaving sobs. Tears track down her perpetually dirty face.
“Shh,” Ry motions for me to let go, and she cradles Dellin. “It was just a dream.” She rocks Dellin like a child.
I have trouble feeling sympathy for Dellin after she abandoned us outside Malarusk. I want to tell Ry to stop treating her like a baby. But instead, I wait awkwardly beside Dayne and the Halves for Dellin to calm down.
When she stops crying, Dellin looks at me. “I didn’t run away from the fight because I was scared.”
For a moment, I think I must have spoken my thoughts out loud. But then I decide she must just be reading the emotion on my face.
“But you don’t understand,” she continues. “If the Duskers had seen me—if they had found me—”
Her chest heaves, and Ry gathers her into her arms again, murmuring softly.
“It’s fine,” I say, just wanting to put an end to this bizarre conversation. “There may be a way for you to make it up to us.”
Dellin looks up at me, her gray eyes glistening.
“Someone needs to go back to Solis. Wade needs to know what happened—”
I imagine the look on Wade’s face when he finds out Jadem is dead. Just the thought steals my breath away.
Wade knew Jadem long before I met her. She rescued him from the Duskers and gave him a home with the Solguards. She was like family to him. After the death of Sal, his mentor and adopted father, Jadem was the only parent figure he had. It makes my heart ache to know I won’t be there when he finds out she’s gone.
And Wokee…Wokee used to follow Aunt Jadem around her orchards for hours on end while she answered his questions about the plants and animals she raised. She helped Wokee train Vlaz. Wokee lost his mother, too, and loves Aunt Jadem the same way I do. And now she’s gone.
I swallow before turning my attention back to Dellin, the only person I can look at without falling apart.
“Wade has to keep the Banished leaders from surrendering. Tell him to do whatever he must to stall them.”
“What’s the point of stalling the inevitable?” Dayne asks, his voice tired. “We don’t have Hendrix. We’re never going to get Hendrix.” He scrubs a hand across his face. “It was all just a sickening waste.”
“Because,” I bite my lip, knowing they’re not going to like this part. “We’re going to offer them something different—something better.”
✽✽✽
We all go to the bottom level of the Lair, where the rock meets the dark water, to see Dellin and Vlaz off.
My father assured us the Duskers who chased us here wouldn’t have lingered to see if we’d return, especially since so many of their recruits have disappeared from around this area. Still, just to be safe, I tell Dellin to get in the air as soon as they’re on the riverbank and to fly high enough that the Duskers won’t be able to shoot Vlaz again.
Two of my father’s Zeroes are standing on the rock ledge, their black eyes staring straight ahead at the dark water. As Vlaz walks past them, he snarls. It’s not the warning or hunting snarls I’ve witnessed before. All of Vlaz’s fur stands on end, and his black lips quiver over his exposed fangs. He looks monstrous.
The Zeroes don’t pay any attention to him. They just stand there, black eyes staring into nothing.
“Easy boy,” Dayne says, as he checks the hyenair’s bandages and guides him to the water’s edge. “No ripping out throats. At least, not today.”
“How do we know the Duskers aren’t going to attack the fortress before we get back?” Ry asks. “It’s a miracle they haven’t already destroyed it.”
“We don’t know,” I say through gritted teeth. “But there’s no point in going back unless we have something that can actually be of use to the Solguards.”
If we went back now, it would mean admitting failure to the Banished leaders. It would mean the ruin of Solis and the death of all the Solguards. It would mean Aunt Jadem’s death was meaningless.
“Then we have to get something useful, and fast,” Ry says, her voice laced with panic.
I nod. I’m working on it.
As I rub Vlaz’s flopped ear and Dayne adjusts the bandage on his neck one last time, Ry and Dellin walk to the other side of the ledge overlooking the river. With the rush of the water, I can’t hear their words, but I see the way they embrace.
A sharp stab of jealousy cuts through me. It doesn’t matter, I tell myself. Ry can have other friends….Even if those friends are secret-keeping cowards who hate me.
When Ry wipes a tear off Dellin’s cheek with her finger, I roll my eyes.
“Remember,” I say to Dellin. “Tell Wade to do whatever he has to to stall them.”
If the Banished leaders surrender before we return with the Zero army, this will all have been for nothing. Aunt Jadem’s death will have been for nothing. And I won’t let that happen.
Dellin nods and climbs onto Vlaz.
“And don’t pull his feathers,” I tell her, more harshly than needed.
To Vlaz, I whisper, “Take care of Wokee.”
And then he’s diving into the water with Dellin clinging to his back.
✽✽✽
Once we’re back in our chamber with the door shut, and it’s just Dayne, Ry, the Halves, and I, I’m ready to tell them my plan.
Ry might trust Dellin, but I don’t. Having kept plenty of my own secrets through the years, I know when someone is hiding something. And Dellin is definitely hiding something.
“Now that she’s gone,” I begin, but Ry cuts me off.
“She’s a good person, Mer.”
I scoff. “At best she’s a filthy—and I mean that literally—coward.” I challenge Ry with my eyes. “But I’d be willing to bet she’s something worse.”
“If you’re implying that she’s—”
“A Dusker spy?” I ask. “Yeah, I am.”
We look at each other for a moment, and I know we’re thinking of the same person. Gorgoran.
“She isn’t,” Ry says, venom in her voice. “She wouldn’t.”
“Can we get back on point?” Dayne demands. “Hemera, what happened with Zeidan?”
I take a deep breath to compose myself. And then, I tell them about my father’s offer. As expected, they don’t take it well.
Brogut and Ekil roar. Dayne almost matches their fury.
“Absolutely not,” my brother says.
“This isn’t like last time,” I argue.
“Halves refuse to give blood,” Ekil says, crossing his arms.
“Refuse,” Brogut echoes.
I force out a breath, trying to stay calm. “An army of Zeroes would give us the strength we need to fight the Duskers. If we defeat them, we can get your river back. You won’t have to fight the Banished anymore. You’ll survive.”
“Zeroes are evil,” Ekil says.
“They’re the only way I can help you get what you wa
nt,” I reply.
A wave of guilt washes over me. The Zeroes are the reason why the Halves were my father’s slaves for years, and now I’m asking them to make more. But I spoke the truth; there’s nothing else I can think of to help them.
Ekil and Brogut exchange a glace, and then I see Ekil’s posture droop just a little. I steel my features.
“This will work,” I tell Ry and Dayne with a confidence I don’t feel. “A hundred Duskers will be changed into Zeroes. Zeidan has figured out the right combination of Halve and Bisecter blood—”
Dayne makes a disgusted sound in the back of his throat.
“The Zeroes are monsters,” Ry protests. “You know that better than anyone. And now you’re suggesting making more of them?”
“They’ll follow my command. I don’t know how it works exactly, but with my blood in them, I’ll control them.”
And without Hendrix, it’s our only option…to fight monsters with monsters.
“And you think he’s telling the truth?” Ry asks, almost at the same time, Ekil asks, “You trust?”
I falter. Of course, I don’t trust my father. He’s done nothing but scheme and betray and kill.
But then I remember Aunt Jadem’s body crumpled on the ground, and the ruined courtyard at Tanguro. I have to do something.
“He’s our enemy, and that’s not going to change.” I repeat these words for the Halves, as well. “But he wants the same thing we do…for now.”
“And what happens when we don’t want the same thing anymore?” Dayne fiddles with his hands, seeming not to know what to do with them without his lute.
I meet my brother’s gaze. I feel a sharp pang at the anguish on his face. I know it’s even worse for him to be around my father than it is for me.
“We kill him,” I promise. “Just like we said we would, just like he deserves.”
Dayne heaves a deep sigh. “Nothing good can come of helping Zeidan.” He pauses, and the air around him seems weighted with meaning. “But I’m with you, little sis. If this is what you want.”
“Me too.” Ry slings a hand across my shoulders and gives me a peck on the cheek. “I’m with you.”
“Halves will give their blood one last time,” Ekil says, but the words cost him. He sags against the wall.
Brogut just lets out a growl low in his throat.
I look at my friends, overcome with emotion. The fact that they’re willing to support this—support me—after everything they’ve been through….
“Thank you.” The words aren’t enough to carry the weight of everything I feel, but they all nod like they understand anyway.
CHAPTER 28
After a fitful sleep, Ekil, Brogut, and I walk up the path to the Duskers’ chamber. The Halves are both silent, their heads bowed. It feels like a death march. When we reach the door, my father and his Zeroes are already waiting for us.
My father appraises me.
“Are you ready to change the world, daughter?”
“Let’s just get this over with,” I mutter, as I push past him.
Unlike the silence I was greeted with the last time my father brought me in here, this time, everything is in chaos.
It takes less than moment to discover Fake Hendrix somehow managed to loosen his and some of the other prisoners’ gags. They’re shouting themselves hoarse. When he sees me, Fake Hendrix snarls and rattles his chains.
“You monster,” he rasps. “The Dark God will kill you and every other abomination in this filthy place!” He pulls back his head and hurls a gob of mucousy spit in my face.
I wipe a sleeve across my face.
I turn away, but then I remember…this man is the reason why we’re here now. He’s the reason we have nothing to offer the Banished leaders. He’s the reason why Crowe could kill Aunt Jadem without consequences. And afterward, why her death meant nothing.
I turn back to Fake Hendrix and reach forward, yanking him to me by the collar of his cloak.
“You want to see a real monster?” I ask. “I’m going to turn you into one.”
“Do your worst,” he replies. “The darkness will come and swallow you whole. You’ll be—”
“Shh,” my father puts a finger to Fake Hendrix’s lips. At the same time, he lifts a dagger and makes a long, narrow cut in Fake Hendrix’s skin, just above his collarbone.
Fake Hendrix’s words cut off. Tears stream down his cheeks as he writhes against his chains.
“Halve blood first,” my father motions Ekil forward.
One of the Zeroes lowers its scythe, dangerously close to Ekil’s arm. Brogut snarls and leaps forward, wrapping his enormous hands around the Zero’s neck. Without missing a beat, the Zero swats at Brogut as one would a pesky insect. Brogut goes crashing into the opposite wall, toppling several of the Duskers with him.
“What the hell?” I demand.
“There is no cause for alarm.” My father’s calm is infuriating. “He simply meant to open up a vein.”
“We do it ourselves,” Ekil growls, shaking his fist in my father’s face.
I translate Ekil’s words.
Shrugging, my father motions to one of the Zeroes, who places a dagger at the Halves’ feet. Ekil bends to pick it up, but Brogut grabs it first.
“Let the blood flow until the precise moment I say to stop,” my father tells me, and waits until I’ve translated the instructions before demonstrating how Brogut should hold his dripping arm over Fake Hendrix’s wound.
Fake Hendrix’s feet scrabble against the stone floor as he tries to shift away. Brogut holds his bloodied arm over the Dusker’s open wound. With the first drop of Halve blood, Fake Hendrix begins to writhe.
My father’s Zeroes are ready. One grips Fake Hendrix’s shoulders on each side, holding the Dusker still while my father motions for Brogut to keep letting his blood flow. An ugly dark substance begins to bubble out of the wound.
Fake Hendrix’s screams reach a fever pitch. He bucks and strains against his captors, reaching his hands up as far as the Zeroes’ grip will allow him, like he’s trying to claw off his own skin. Watching his suffering makes me want to either throw up or tear my eyes out just so I won’t have to witness it for another second.
“Stop, I can’t take it—”
My father silences me with a wave of his hand. He is intent on Fake Hendrix, his lips moving like he’s counting. My father straightens up at the same time that Fake Hendrix’s body goes rigid. The Dusker’s screams cut off as he falls prostrate on the ground, his eyes rolling back into his head. In the absence of his screaming, all I can hear is my own ragged breathing and heartbeat as it pummels my ribs.
“It is time, Hemera.”
I want to tell him no, that this was a terrible idea, that I don’t want to torture anyone. But then I remember my aunt’s broken body. I remember one of the last things she said to me. You will save us all.
Before I can change my mind, I close my hand around the dagger my father offers and yank the blade across my palm. Pain blossoms as blood warms my skin. The gash leaks a thick, brownish blood.
“Press your palm right against the gash and let your blood flow into him,” my father instructs.
I stand motionless, mesmerized by the trail of ugly blisters rising from the wound on Fake Hendrix’s flesh. My throat has gone dry.
“Quickly now, before the Halve blood kills him.” My father points to the wound on my palm that is already beginning to seal itself off.
I grit my teeth and stretch out my palm over the opening on the Dusker’s neck. With one quick motion, I squeeze my bleeding palm against the gaping cut. The moment my blood touches his flesh, there is a sizzling sound like meat frying in a pan.
Pain, like a thousand needles, rushes from the palm of my hand all the way up my arm. I grit my teeth to keep from crying out as my limbs fill with the fiery heat.
When it passes, I’m left with only a dull throb and a feeling that my own limbs are weighed down by invisible chains.
An inhu
man shriek, the likes of which I have never heard and which raises the hair on the back of my neck, fills the chamber. It’s coming from Fake Hendrix.
“Keep your hand still,” my father commands.
A pain worse than any I have ever felt races across my scalp, making my head feel like it might split in two. I double over and close my eyes. I grit my teeth and force myself to stay on my feet.
Slowly, the pain in my head begins to ease.
Bloody froth wells up and dribbles between the narrow space between my hand and Fake Hendrix’s flesh. The Dusker, awake again, writhes as a white foam bubbles from his mouth. His entire body convulses; purple veins cover his face and neck. It looks like the poison of my blood is going to make his insides burst apart.
“Help him.” My voice is barely audible over the screams that threaten to drive me insane. I pull my hand away from the wound. “Help him!”
Before my father can say anything, the shrieks end. Fake Hendrix’s body begins to jerk and twitch.
“He is passing into the second stage,” my father observes. “I believe enough of your blood entered the wound for a successful transformation, but we shall see.”
Fake Hendrix’s sprawled legs begin to lengthen before my eyes. His neck swells, black veins spreading across his pale flesh like tree roots. A ripping sound fills the chamber as the gray cloak, which had hung loosely on the Dusker, is stretched until the material tears at its seams.
His neck spasms, and with every move of his head, clumps of hair come free from his scalp.
I back away until I’m pressed against the wall. My teeth are chattering even though sweat is rolling down my face.
This is wrong, a voice screams in my head. Aunt Jadem is dead because of him, another voice argues.
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