by Chloe Neill
She blinked. “You do not wish to be serviced?”
“We do not,” I said, clapping a hand over Liam’s mouth. I wasn’t entirely sure what service she was offering, but it seemed best to sidestep whatever it might have been. They were awfully accommodating, and didn’t entirely seem to understand human etiquette. “Just leave the food outside the door, thank you, and that will be all.”
She gave a precise nod, turned with a rustle of her white skirts, and walked silently to the door.
“Stepford city,” Liam said, when I moved my hand from his face. “And add ‘no privacy’ to the list of things I don’t like about this place.”
Then he scratched his jaw as he looked contemplatively at the door, the night’s stubble making a rasping sound. “What services do you think she’d provide, exactly?”
I hit him with a pillow. And that just started things again.
* * *
• • •
An hour later, Liam hopped down from the platform, began to pull on jeans, walked toward the door.
“I’m hungry,” I said, looking for my own clothes, “but slightly concerned that whatever we find outside the door will be drugged or just—I don’t know—a jar of mayonnaise.”
He glanced back. “Mayonnaise?”
“Poster condiment for bland sameness.”
He nodded his general agreement, kept walking to the door. Opened it, came back a moment later with a gold tray. On it were two hamburgers atop piles of spaghetti.
He put the tray on a side table, looked down at it with hands on his hips. “This appears to be a guess about what humans eat.”
“How rude would it be to not eat it?”
He glanced back at me, gaze sardonic. “Do we really care what these people think about us? Given what they’ve done?”
I considered that for a beat. “Excellent point.”
He picked up what looked like a cinnamon stick—a bit of dusky brown bark rolled in the middle—and sniffed it. “Ah,” he said.
“Is it cinnamon?”
“I’m not sure.” He held it out to me.
I took a whiff—and got a noseful of fish-soaked dirty tennis shoes. “Good God,” I said, pushing his hand away. “That is disgusting.”
Liam burst into laughter, then tossed the stick back on the tray. I punched him in the arm.
“That’s not funny.”
“The look . . . on your face . . . is very funny,” he said between snorting laughs. He lifted a hand to wipe away a tear, then jolted, stared down at his fingers. Then he took a cautious sniff, turned his face away in disgust.
“And now I need to bleach my hand.”
“Serves you right,” I said as he strode off toward the bath.
I looked down at the bark, and considered. I bet I knew someone who would absolutely adore it. So I used the napkin to pick it up, then folded it carefully into a tight packet that I stuffed into a zip pocket on my backpack.
At least Moses couldn’t complain that we hadn’t brought him a souvenir.
* * *
• • •
The sun had just breached the horizon when we met outside the rooms. Liam and I, Gavin and Rachel. Everyone slightly bleary-eyed, but looking eager to get home again.
“Where’s Malachi?” Liam asked.
Gavin shrugged, bit into a granola bar, this one chewy. “Haven’t seen him yet.”
With perfect timing, his door opened, and he emerged in his usual white T-shirt and jeans, golden curls a soft cloud around his beautiful face.
“Good morning,” I said, and noticed the flush on Rachel’s cheeks when he looked her way, smiled. I guess the threat of war breaking out between them was officially nil.
“We can go home now.”
“Can we?” Liam asked.
“We can. Our mission is complete.” He adjusted his backpack, which looked heavier than it had on the trip here—and was marked by that magical blankness we’d experienced in the Citadel the night before. It was easy to guess it held the Abethyl. Harder was figuring out exactly how he’d managed that.
“You got the Abethyl?” Rachel asked.
“I did.”
“And how was that accomplished?”
“Persuasion,” Malachi said. “I convinced them it was in their interest to let us borrow the stone, rather than have their citizens learn about the many ways in which they’ve refused to solve the problems they’ve created. Including the fact that humans can wield magic.”
“They think humans are less,” I said. “So the truth would be insulting.”
“Just so,” Malachi said with a smile. “They do not know you as I do.”
“So you blackmailed them,” Gavin said.
“I did.”
“I mean, whatever works.”
“I actually have a request,” Malachi said to Gavin. “Would you mind carrying it back? I admit to some discomfort carrying an object that nullifies magic all the way back to the Veil.”
I thought I saw discomfort in Gavin’s eyes, too, but he lifted his shoulder. “Sure,” he said, and, since he’d lost his backpack, accepted Malachi’s, slid his arms between the straps. “Now can we get the hell out of here before they change their minds?”
“An excellent plan,” Rachel said, and we headed for the stairs.
* * *
• • •
The Consularis were apparently late risers, as the city was nearly empty as we left the Citadel, headed across the square and into the hills again.
Having learned our lesson, we began the trip by walking within the umbrella of Malachi’s magic, and passed most of the time talking about the general weirdness of the Beyond.
But that was hardly the only thing bothering me.
“What’s wrong?” Liam asked, walking beside me at the back of the pack.
“I just . . . I still can’t believe they let him walk away with the stone.”
“He didn’t walk away with it. He threatened to expose the facade. The lies. Oppressing people becomes a whole lot harder when they’re able to tell truth from lies. To see the real nature of the corruption.”
“Yeah, but do you think they’d really care about that? The population has to know about the war, about the Veil. If they haven’t done anything about it before, why are they going to care now?”
He stopped, looked down at me. “You think it’s more likely an angel would steal an artifact and then lie to us about it?”
“He’s not a religious angel,” I pointed out. “And, yeah, I think most people would lie under the right circumstances.”
Liam ran a hand through his hair. “I think it’s better not to ask, and to assume he handled it appropriately. It’s his world, after all.”
“That’s putting a pretty spin on it.”
“It’s war,” Liam said. “I don’t think we need to put a pretty spin on anything. I’d be okay with him stealing it after punching out a guard. Given what this place has done to us—and apparently its own citizens—I don’t really care how he got it. As long as he got it, and there’s a chance for peace.”
He had a point. Did I care?
I guess I was less concerned about the way he might have stolen it—about the moral issues—than about the possibility they’d come after us when they found out it was gone. But after we’d walked for four hours and seen no sign of chase, of magical fury, of fire in the sky or apocalyptic horsemen intent on finding and destroying us, I stopped thinking about it.
I had blisters to consider. And hurricanes. And a magical weapon still tied too close to my mother for my own comfort.
We moved quickly, efficiently, purposefully. We didn’t pass through the same glen of willows, so I assumed Malachi had wisely steered us around them. And I had to assume that we were hurrying back. But I didn’t know if that was because of the
Seelies, the hurricane, or the Abethyl.
The border was a waving blur ahead of us when I felt a faraway rumble, like a storm far past the horizon. And there was a hot energy in the air. I reached down, put a hand against the earth, and could feel a vibration beneath my fingers.
“Malachi, are we standing on a fault line?”
“No. Why?”
I looked up at him. “Because the earth is literally moving beneath our feet.”
His expression didn’t change. But there was a momentary flicker of alarm in his eyes.
“Malachi,” Liam said, stepping toward us. “What is it?”
The rumbling grew louder, and it began to resolve as it grew closer. Not thunder, but the beating of air.
Wings.
I looked back at Malachi, and suspicions began to resolve into certainty. “They didn’t let you have it. They didn’t offer it up in apology or to help us. You took it.”
“What?” Rachel said, head snapping toward Malachi.
“He stole the Abethyl,” I said.
“Of course he did,” Gavin said, looking around. “We all knew that, right?”
Liam thumped him on the ear.
“I took the Abethyl,” Malachi said, “because it is our best option. Because they are selfish. Because they owe it to you. Because we owe it to you.”
“Why weren’t there any alarms?” Liam asked.
“Only at the edges of the city,” Malachi said.
“Because no one ever steals in Elysium,” I said, thinking of what the angels had said the night before. “You don’t need alarms in the land of the perfect.”
“Except, apparently, to get outside city limits.” Liam looked at Malachi. “I assume that’s why Gavin was carrying it? Because the alarm is triggered somehow by Paras, not humans. We’re, what, voids? Like the Abethyl.”
“Something like that,” Malachi said, and the golden-eyed look Liam leveled at Malachi was hot even by New Orleans standards.
“You used us.”
“We used each other,” Malachi said, and Gavin snorted.
“How are you not pissed?” Liam asked him, incredulous.
“How am I the only one who realized what was happening?” Gavin asked, amusement in his voice. “Obviously he stole the Abethyl, and obviously I carried it out because he couldn’t. Y’all are not nearly shifty enough for covert missions.”
Rachel frowned in the direction of the tsunami of sound that was rolling closer. “What’s done is done,” she said. “Now it’s time to get the hell out of here.” She clipped the front strap on her backpack tight across her chest.
“We can’t outrun them,” Gavin said. “They’re flying.”
“Not all of them,” Malachi said. “Some will be mounted.”
“Whatever we’re doing, we need to decide now,” I said.
“We stay together,” Malachi said. “Splitting up—dividing our skills—doesn’t help us. It helps them.”
“Agreed,” Liam said.
“I want to talk to them first,” Malachi said. “But let’s be ready.”
* * *
• • •
“Ready” meant standing by with weapons unholstered and magic spooled, Malachi in front of us. We had a plan, or as much of one as we could muster given our position and the limited amount of time we had to prepare.
Now we’d wait.
Two dozen Consularis Paras astride stocky horses with golden leather saddles and bells woven into their hair, their hooves wide as summer melons, thundered toward us. No wonder the ground shook. They rode in a battle line, golden weapons raised. And in front of them, flying low and steady, with their gleaming tunics and brilliant wings, the Precepts.
They touched down in a run, wings extended behind them until they folded and disappeared in the way that angels had. And they looked royally pissed.
My heart beat fast. Not just because of the anticipation, but from the magic that seemed to vibrate through my bones. Elysium magic, so much stronger than Earth magic, seemed to permeate deeper. I didn’t care for that.
I glanced at Liam, got his nod, and felt him reach out with his magic, touch mine, even though we stood ten feet apart.
“Camael,” Malachi said coolly as the angel strode forward, his eyes swirling gold.
“Return what you have stolen,” he said.
“I have stolen nothing,” Malachi said. “I have taken possession of a tool you used as a decorative object. A tool the humans need in order to repair the mess you’ve made of their world.”
“As you are aware, we have no part in that war.”
“Yes,” Malachi said. “That’s exactly the problem.” He seemed taller as he stared at them across the swaying grasses, the wildflowers. “You created a problem that you refuse to resolve. A problem that has brought death and destruction to their world. If you refuse to act, I must. I cannot in good conscience stand by while you allow this destruction to continue.”
“You choose them over us.”
“I choose life over death. I choose attention over ignorance. I choose to act.”
It was probably inappropriate, but I stole a look at Rachel, saw the approval in her eyes. I approved of her approval.
Uriel stepped forward. “You understand our society, its conditions, the rules by which we live. The reasons we do not intervene in another culture’s disagreements.”
“Your reasons are wrong. You will have the Abethyl back when the Court has been neutralized. When peace has returned. When their community has been restored.”
Eae stepped forward, and the gold in her eyes turned to icy shards, the magic in the air hot and sharp as lightning. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I have the Abethyl,” Malachi said. “So obviously I would. And I don’t believe you’ll attack. Because at heart, I think you are afraid of war. I think you are afraid to fight.”
Horses whinnied and shifted, ready to surge forward, to fight. The Paras on their backs looked equally eager. Anger danced in their eyes, and a good dose of haughtiness.
The longer I was around them, the more I was convinced the best Consularis Paras lived on Earth, not in the Beyond.
“You want it?” Malachi said, eyes blazing gold. “Come and get it. Walk through the Veil and face down the Court. Walk through the Veil and stare down the result of the war you could have stopped years ago. Walk through the Veil and see the destruction. See what you have wrought. Find me, and take it back.”
That was our cue.
“Now,” Rachel said, and Liam and I gripped hands, and joined our magic, and began to move the ground itself. We’d learned with the nymph that using our magic to move magical things in the Beyond was nearly impossible. But we could move nonmagical things. And soil qualified.
If nothing else, New Orleanians knew how to build a levee.
I’d spooled so much magic I felt like I might float up on the cloud of it, but moving tons of dirt—pulling grass and soil from beneath the army and shaping it into a long and narrow hill in front of them—took a lot of power.
It took only seconds to make them invisible, to create the nearly vertical wall that horses couldn’t climb over, and to have them screaming instructions on the other side.
“Go!” Malachi shouted. And with the barrier in place, we began to run toward the filmy air that marked the boundary of Earth.
Wings began to beat the air as the Precepts lifted up. They landed between us and the Veil, even as the sound of hooves began to beat the ground behind us, the Consularis army driving their steeds around the wall we’d made.
“You will not take it from us,” Camael said, landing in front of us.
“Try me,” Rachel said, unsheathing her knife and jumping forward. Gavin pulled his gun, began to fire at Uriel, who lifted into the air to join the fight. Malachi ran toward Eae, and their wings beat
fiercely against air as they rose in combat, fists swinging.
“Our turn,” Liam said, and we ran toward the border as the sounds of hooves and huffing horses and angry Consularis Paras grew louder behind us.
Dashing toward it, our feet pounding soil, the hazy view of our world cleared as we moved closer, until we could see the hulking form of the tossed Humvee.
And then there was whistling overhead.
“Above you!” Gavin shouted, and we looked up as a flight of golden spears flew toward us. Liam pulled me close, wrapped his arms around me as they punctured the earth with a thwack, forming a golden cage around us.
Or so they hoped. We squeezed between the spears and ran through the boundary, the magic like hot rain against my skin, and we stepped into the magical desert of our own world.
The field was empty. Birds and crickets chirped as the sun began to head for the horizon.
We ran to the Humvee, climbed on top of it, and waved our arms, signaling the outpost. The turret turned our way, and after a moment, we heard the sound of one of the outpost’s gates sliding along its rail—and then the roar of an engine. Seconds later, Scarlet rounded the building, Gunnar at the wheel. He roared across the field.
At the same time, chaos erupted behind and around us. Seeing another chance to take us down, ogres burst into the meadow from the tree line. As the outpost’s siren began to wail, Malachi and Camael flew in, arms linked as they fought for control.
“Incoming!” The word was garbled, but I recognized Gavin’s voice through the Veil. He ran through, Rachel almost immediately behind him, followed by Uriel and Eae. And they came up short when they realized where they were, and saw the ogres charging toward them. Wings made them a very big—and obvious—target.
A dozen Containment soldiers took the field, and began firing at the ogres. A shot hit Uriel’s left wing and he screamed in agony. As if in answer to his cry, a whistling came through from the other side of the Veil.
“Incoming!” I screamed, and Liam and I jumped into Scarlet’s bed, hit our stomachs. Brilliant points of light broke through from the Beyond. It had to be luck, since the Paras on the other side couldn’t actually see clearly to Earth, but they took down two ogres and impaled the truck’s gate.