“The sun is almost up.” Gunnar hovers behind me in the doorway to the kitchen, watching me anxiously. “I’ll have to leave, and I … don’t think you should be here alone.”
The future might be staring me in the face, I realize. The choice is yours—just say the word. “Can you stay? I mean, there’s only a couple of windows in the basement, and we can cover them to block the sunlight. Then, if Brotherhood dudes break in, you’ll be here.”
“And if they set fire to the house to flush you out, I’ll die down there,” he returns candidly. “Or we’ll both die down there, or we’ll both die trying to escape.” The sky is gray, verging on blue … our time almost up. “I don’t think being here is a risk either of us can afford to take. I’m sorry—I wish I could protect you, but … you said it yourself: The Knights aren’t going to waste any time.”
“Where am I supposed to go?” I ask the question reflexively, thinking of all the options I don’t have—all the places my enemies will obviously look first.
“You know, if your power has progressed to where it will work on humans, you might be able to set up your own hideout.” Gunnar traces the doorframe. “Viviane would break my neck for telling you this, but all you need is an empty apartment and a friendly landlord willing to hand over the keys just because you tell him to.”
I offer a mechanical nod—but inside, something falls out of place. With everything else that’s happened, it’s silly that being forced to abandon my own home is what makes me want to cry. “Thanks for the advice.”
Gunnar shrugs into his jacket and starts for the door, but then stops, turning back. Removing his necklace, he slips it over my head, pressing it to my sternum. He watches my lips, like he wants to kiss me but doesn’t know how, as he says, “Pack a bag, but don’t take too long. The farther you get before sunrise, the safer you’ll be.”
And then he leaves.
* * *
Pink is starting to show on the horizon as I slam my feet down on the pedals of my bike, speeding out of my neighborhood without any direction in mind. I won’t be going to school today, and no one will be calling me in—and only if I’m lucky will I live long enough to face the consequences. How far should I go? Where am I going to hide?
The vampires watching over me drop off my magical radar one by one as the sun rises, and I eventually drift to a stop on an unfamiliar street corner, a cold breeze chilling my sweaty face. I’ve made a lot of bad decisions, turned to all the wrong people for help, and the only plan I’ve got now is to swindle my way into an empty apartment and hide. Even if I can somehow Mission: Impossible my parents out of Rasputin’s clutches with nothing but Gunnar’s assistance, I’m still going to die anyway.
Panicked adrenaline scours my nerves, my head spinning with mortal terror. I don’t want to go, I’m not ready—and of all the bad decisions I’ve made, the worst one is still waiting. The only group I haven’t turned to yet is the one I trust the least and fear the most, but also the only one that might be able to beat the Corrupter.
If that’s what they want.
When Azazel Ascends, everything on Earth will change—and every choice I make now will affect whoever’s left when the dust settles. I can’t afford to be reckless … but I can’t afford to play it safe, either, when the actual destruction of the world is on the line. I’ve got my phone in my hand, just about to make a call, when I hear a voice behind me. “The answer is yes.”
Whirling around, my heart bursting like a confetti cannon, I blink frightened stars from my eyes until I recognize the speaker. Sitting in a car that’s been parked at the curb this whole time, she gives me an awkward smile, and I blink a few more times. “Hope?”
“Hi, Auggie.” Despite the circumstances, Hope Cheng does not look at all surprised to find me on this random corner at 7:00 a.m. on a Monday. Indicating my phone, she says, “You don’t have to call—they’re willing to see you. In fact, they’re, um … kind of waiting for you right now. I’m supposed to drive you, if that’s okay.”
“You’re supposed to drive me,” I repeat, my fingers slippery and cold. The sun is up now, so she’s definitely not a vampire. At least there’s that. “To … where, exactly?”
“A meeting with the coven that supposedly cast out Azazel back in the Bronze Age. Or … something.” She shrugs apologetically. “That’s what you were going to call Ximena about, right?” She gives me a beat to answer, but I can’t, and she goes on, “They want to see you, too. Also, you should probably get in the car quick, because I guess things are supposed to get really messy today in Fulton Heights if we don’t leave on schedule.”
My limbs shaking again, I reach for Gunnar’s necklace, feeling the stone bite comfortingly into my flesh. “How could you possibly know any of that?”
And this is when the person in Hope’s passenger seat leans forward into the light, another familiar face swimming into focus. It’s early, but despite the shadows in the car, Adriana’s face is unmistakably pale with worry. “Please just get in, Auggie. We’ll explain everything on the way.”
30
There’s already space in the trunk for my bike, and Hope has the car in gear before my butt hits the seat, sleepy neighborhoods whipping by as she speeds for the edge of town. It takes me a minute to choose my first question. “Where exactly are we going?”
“The city,” Hope answers, anxiety thinning her voice. “That’s where they’ve been staying. They’ve been here for a while, but…”
More silence, more blurry neighborhoods, and I see signs for the highway when I finally lose my patience. “But what? Look, I don’t mean to be rude, or whatever, but I am rapidly losing every last molecule of my shit back here, and I’d appreciate some details! How did you know where to find me?”
There’s another brief silence, and then Adriana answers, “Hope can read minds.”
“Oh.” I stare at the girl behind the wheel. “You’re … a sorceress?”
“The gift runs in my family,” she allows uncomfortably, flipping on her turn signal. “My uncle’s element is wood, and mine is water, which means that, yeah, I can read minds. I’m still working at it, though. Sometimes I can’t turn it on, and sometimes I can’t turn it off.” Hope gives a feeble shrug. “I didn’t come into my abilities until last year, so I’m kind of a novice, but it’s the reason I moved here—so I could train under the Nexus.”
Just like Ximena. I know I should be demanding more answers, but instead all I can think of is the number of vivid daydreams I had about Boyd Crandall during the independent art study Hope and I have shared all year long, and my stomach shrivels to the size of a raisin. My fantasies were detailed.
“Hope’s uncle is one of the other two witches Abuela told us about,” Adriana reports with a moody frown. “The ones training with the coven? Well … you need to tell him.”
“Uncle Marcus said I had to practice, and he suggested using you as my subject,” Hope blurts, glancing at me in the mirror as we merge onto the highway. “I swear I didn’t know why! When I started picking up scary shit from you—people being beheaded and burned alive—I thought my power was malfunctioning. I didn’t know it was … that—”
“That her uncle was using her to spy on you for the coven.” Adriana is concise.
“It wasn’t like that!” Hope stomps down on the gas pedal, and I grip my seat belt a little tighter. “Or … okay, it was like that—but I swear I didn’t know what I was doing. You weren’t the only one he told me to listen to; you were just the only one he cared about.”
“It’s okay,” I mumble, thinking about the woodcut she sent me. Whatever else she did, Hope took a risk trying to help me out. “I’m not blaming you.”
“They’re the ones who told me where to be this morning,” she reveals at last. “A week ago—after they did … whatever they did that they needed your hair for.”
“A week ago?” My tone shoots up an octave or two. “Wait, you’ve known about all of this for a week, and you—”
�
�I didn’t know.” She’s emphatic. “I didn’t want to know, either. My uncle said the witches wanted to see me, and I freaked out that a coven that powerful even knew my name. Being in the room with them was … terrifying? Overwhelming? I had all these questions, but I was too scared to open my mouth, and they knew things about me I had never shared with anyone.” Hope shudders all over. “They told me to be at that corner this morning, and it wasn’t a request. It wasn’t until last night that they revealed all the who and why, and said Adriana had to be there, too—or ‘darkness would fall upon the world.’”
She finishes in a choked whisper, and Adriana adds, “After dropping you off yesterday, Abuela went to confront them. Whatever they said to her, whatever they showed her … it scared the shit out of her. She believes them now.”
“How can she be sure it wasn’t more bullshit?” I ask, trying to control my rising panic. “Twenty-four hours ago, she said not to trust them, but now we’re going to an emergency meeting with them?” Silence fills the car, and I start sweating some more. “What if it’s a trap?”
Adriana grips her jacket a little tighter around her shoulders. “You didn’t see my abuela’s face after she got home, Auggie. It was like she’d seen a ghost—getting axe-murdered by another ghost. If there’s even a chance you meeting them could stop whatever’s coming? It’s worth it. Anything is worth it.”
We make the rest of the drive in silence.
* * *
Our destination turns out to be a high-rise on Chicago’s north side, an ordinary building in a busy neighborhood, less than a mile from the lake. There are rainbow flag stickers on the doors of shops and restaurants—something I’ve never seen in Fulton Heights—and if I weren’t currently terrified of being cursed forever by a group of undead mastermind sorceresses, I’d probably find it exciting.
I’m not too surprised when Ximena Rosales is waiting for us in the lobby of the building. She’s accompanied by a man I assume to be Hope’s uncle, and a petite woman I’ve never seen before, with a pale, bookish face and red hair. My skin prickles from the presence of vampires somewhere above us. Adriana’s grandmother greets me with a somber expression, her hands firm where they grip my elbows.
“Don’t be scared, mijito,” she says, but if there’s any reason I shouldn’t be, she keeps it to herself. Instead, she gestures to the strangers beside her. “This is Marcus Cheng, Hope’s uncle, and this is Lydia Fitzroy. They’re the other witches that have been training with the women you’re about to meet.” She casts a glance in the direction of the elevators. “We’re going up with you. What’s to be discussed … it involves all of us.”
“All of us?” Hope and Adriana exchange a glance.
“Not you two.” Marcus Cheng is stern. “This is still a school day, remember?”
“We drove Auggie all the way out here, and now we have to go all the way home again?” Adriana is annoyed—but I know her well enough to see that, for once, she’s happy about being excluded from witch stuff.
“What you two did was very important,” Ximena begins patiently, “and so is your education. You girls will get a fancy dinner date on me as a reward, but right now you’re leaving. Entiendes?”
Adriana relents, but before she and Hope go, she gives me one last worried look.
Together with the adults, I take the elevator up fourteen floors, sweating profusely. We walk down a windowless hallway that someone forgot to oxygenate, and we knock on a nondescript door. When it opens, we enter a small apartment lit by a single lamp with a golden shade, the windows shielded by velvet drapes. Four high-backed chairs face a small sofa—where three figures are seated, all dressed in black. I don’t know who opened the door for us, because the room is otherwise empty.
“Hello, August Pfeiffer.” The leftmost of the seated trio is the one who speaks first, her skin pale as alabaster, her eyes bottomless. “My name is Brixia.”
“I am Ket,” says the woman in the middle, her chin tattooed with a row of slender, vertical lines.
“And I am Sulis.” The third woman, her colorless eyes glinting, gestures at the empty chairs. “Please sit. There is much to talk about.”
We arrange ourselves, Ximena on my left and Marcus on my right, the air in the room practically vibrating with energy. Or maybe that’s just my skin, the three undead witches tripping my radar with an intensity I’ve never felt before. They’re surprisingly petite, and they’ve barely moved, but I still understand exactly what Hope meant—they’re terrifying. It’s in their poise, the ageless intelligence that sparks in their eyes, and the unmistakable aura of power that surrounds them. They’re all dressed like Elizabeth II, modern but regal, and the effect is strangely imposing—a deadly tea party.
“You need not be afraid,” Brixia remarks offhandedly. “Anything we might do to you could hardly be worse than what you face already.”
“That’s not exactly comforting,” I point out, my tongue as cold and dead as an oyster on the half-shell.
“Nor should it be.” Ket inclines her head. “The only fate worse than what you face is that which will befall everyone you leave behind.”
“Thanks for the reminder.” I narrow my eyes at her in spite of myself. Here I am, literally dying, and she wants to make me feel like a drama queen for it. Adults.
“Many lifetimes ago, we confronted Azazel,” Sulis interjects, her tone commanding. “With his dreadsome power, he wrought havoc in this realm. His blood turned men to monsters, and his monsters made meals out of men.”
“We were double our number then.” Brixia stares nostalgically into the distance. “Our circle was complete, our sorcery unmatched. He had to be stopped, and we were the ones to stop him. Through wits, we trapped Azazel, and began the work of casting him out.”
“But we were mortal then—the one truly fatal flaw.” Ket sighs. “Even though we succeeded in wrenching him from his physical body, one of our sisters died before the spell could be completed and his banishment secured.”
“He escaped into the ether, and those of us who remained took a vow to face him again upon his return.” Sulis glowers. “Over the centuries, we lost two more sisters to those who would see the Corrupter triumph … but the stars align themselves again, and the battlefield is prepared.”
“We will finish what we began.” Determination gleams in Brixia’s eyes. “It is time to close the circle.”
Worlds die and galaxies are born in the breathless silence that follows. I want to believe they intend to stop the thing inside of me, but my hopes are fragile from too many trips down the stairs—too many burns from trusting the untrustworthy. Haltingly, I turn to Ximena … who gives me a reassuring nod.
“They revealed the ritual,” she states in a hush. “I’ve seen it myself, mijito. It turns out this is what we’ve been training for all along.”
“But I thought…” My eyes flood. I still don’t want to believe.
“At the point of Ascension,” Sulis declares, “when the Dark Star first realizes he inhabits a shell strong enough to support him, he will gather himself to Rise and tear asunder the bindings of mortality.”
“He will cleave his entity from yours, and with his first breath he will purify the vessel of your soul and begin the Earth’s subjugation.” Ket’s fingertips inscribe the air.
“But in the space between heartbeats, we will have our chance,” Brixia promises. “As he separates, and before he breathes, he will become exposed … and we may seize him.”
Lydia speaks for the first time, her voice soft and thin. “The ritual will bind Azazel, preventing him from taking that first breath while we extract him from your body.”
Marcus Cheng is genuinely excited. “It’ll be a surgical strike, and everything will hinge on the timing, but … it can be done.”
“True sorcery requires a balance of six elements,” Ket begins, “and to execute a spell as demanding as this, they must be wielded by magic-workers with an unparalleled degree of skill. Our circle is finally complete with ea
rth, water, air, fire, wood, and metal.”
Water is my element. I hear Brixia’s voice in my head, although her lips don’t move. My gifts include telepathy, remote viewing, and the casting of illusions.
“I am air,” Ket says, rippling, vanishing, and then reappearing again. “Disapparition and the control of unseen matter are my domain.”
“Mine is fire.” Sulis raises a hand, and sparks gather above her palm, swarming into a ball. “My abilities speak for themselves.”
Lydia is next, and when she claps her hands together, the air crackles. Sparks jump to life around her fingers, and my hair stands up. “Metal elementals control electricity. We also make excellent mediums.”
I sit up a little straighter. I had Lydia pegged for the kind of person who sells homemade wind chimes at farmers’ markets, not the kind of person who can kill you with a handshake. Hope’s uncle is next, and even though I know his element is wood—and what powers that gives him—watching him shape-shift into a perfect double for Sulis is nonetheless remarkable.
When it’s Ximena’s turn, she merely shrugs. “I didn’t come prepared to give a demonstration, but earth witches possess great strength and are skilled with mesmerism.”
“For generations, my sisters and I have stalked the Corrupter, playing sentinel—and our moment is finally at hand.” Brixia steeples her fingers. “On the vernal equinox, four days hence, the planets and stars will be in their foretold houses. The Ascension will begin … and we will take hold of Azazel, casting him from this realm. We will banish him into hell at last.”
All the planets and stars collect in my throat, and I choke on them. Four days hence. My life is due to end in four days. My brain chugs, revolving faster and faster around this fact, this blunt and brutal confirmation of my worst fears. “Why am I only hearing about this now?” I demand just shy of a screech. “You’ve had a plan for thousands of years, you knew about all of this, but you decided not to say anything until four days before I’m supposed to die?”
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