Michael never figured out how Jack and his friends escaped. The footage from the cameras around Jack’s dorm room had been wiped, leaving mysterious gaps in the recordings on the servers, and the van we’d tracked had been purchased under a fake name. By the time we were able to pin down their location, Michael was more concerned with ending Jack’s little adventure than figuring out where it began.
If Michael had seen this moment—this face—in the eye of his staff, he could have put an end to Jack’s rebellion before it ever happened. Jack and his friends would all be in the wind.
“When you see Jack,” I growl at Chill, “you tell him I have Fleur. And you tell him I’ll be waiting for him.”
27
The Heart Aching to Seek
JACK
A cold hand cups my face. My mouth tastes like dust. “Wake up.” The sound of snapping. A splash of tepid water, then a sharp, cold slap.
I suck in a startled breath, my eyes flashing open as I struggle to sit up.
Someone holds me upright. Someone else presses a water bottle to my lips. I swat at the arms around me, my left triceps stretching painfully as I shield my eyes from the bright light of a torch. “Get that thing out of my face!”
The torch makes a whooshing sound as Marie wedges it into a hole in the rough stone wall. Stalactites drip from the ceiling, each plink bouncing off the high cavern walls. I’m sitting on a stone slab . . . some kind of raised coffin, by the look of it. Rows of them surround me, and more of them are carved into columns in the rock. A giant iron stove—an incinerator with a huge iron door and a tall silver vent—takes up the center of one wall, disappearing into the ceiling above it.
We’re in the catacombs.
“What time is it?” I ask, my thoughts becoming frantic. I reach across my chest, fingertips prickling over coarse stitches just below my left shoulder. “How long was I out?”
“Drink.” Poppy holds a water bottle in front of me. “The bullet just grazed you, but you lost a ton of blood. You need to hydrate.” I open my mouth to argue, but she silences me with a finger. “Drink!”
I take the bottle, scowling around a few cautious sips. Once I’m sure the water won’t come back up, I greedily drink the whole thing down. My head spins as I tip my head to get the last few drops, and I lose my balance, slipping off the coffin.
Amber grabs me around the waist, her cold fingers gripping me in place. She lets out a low whistle as she prods my abs. “Holy crap, Jack! When did you get so ripped?”
I shake her off.
“Seriously, Sommers,” Julio says. “You’ve put on a few pounds since I last saw you.” He leans shirtless against the rough stone walls, gnawing on a piece of bread. The shredded, bloody remains of his turquoise button-down are still tied around my arm.
“Free weights.” I work the knot loose on the tourniquet and shake out my numb fingers.
“Finally got off your ass and stopped feeling sorry for yourself, or were you just tired of suffering by comparison?” he teases.
I arch my back, clenching my teeth against a wince. Amber eases away slowly, as if she’s not sure I’m competent to sit up on my own. Marie snaps a first-aid kit closed and sets it down on a flat of bottled waters. A piece of bread hangs between her teeth. She tears off a chunk and holds it out to me. I take it, only because my stomach seems to have a direct line to the nerves in my fingers.
“Where’d we get all this stuff?” I ask.
Julio answers between bites, hitching a thumb at Kai. “The goddess of the hunt snuck some supplies from the kitchen.”
Kai flips him off from the dark corner where she’s sitting, alone. “You said I could have my weapons back.”
“I said you could have your bow back. And that’s exactly what I gave you!”
“I want my arrows, too.”
“Fat chance.”
Kai stares at her quiver where it rests on the far side of the cavern. She’s the only one not staring at me. The air is still wrought with a fragile tension as my friends hover protectively around me.
“I’m fine. See?” I gesture to myself as I stand up. “Totally fine. Let’s go.” No one moves. “What the hell are we waiting for? By now, Doug already knows we’re here. The faster we get moving, the faster we get to Fleur and Chill. Right, Poppy?”
She gnaws her lip. “We were talking on the way down here, Jack. We think . . .” She looks over her shoulder at the others. “We think maybe it’s better if Julio and Amber take point on this.”
I give a reluctant nod. “Okay, sure. That makes sense.” Julio and Amber are the strongest of us. And if anything happens to them, they can heal each other. It’s a smart move to put them out front. “Fine. Julio and Amber take point, and Kai and I lead from behind. Got it.” Amber and Julio exchange a glance. Marie raises a brow. “What?” I ask, looking between them.
“It’s just . . . we thought the Handlers should stay back and support in other ways.”
“What other ways?”
“You know, monitoring Julio and Amber’s progress from a safe distance.”
My narrowed eyes dart from Poppy to Julio to Amber to Marie. They’re serious.
“Kai told us everything,” Amber says softly. “Doug’s looking for you, Jack. Not us.”
Julio jams his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “The minute he finds you, that’s it. It’s game over for Chill and Fleur.”
Poppy rests a hand on my shoulder. “If the rest of us stay hidden while Julio and Amber look for them, we can buy them more time.”
“What?” I step out from under her. “No! There’s no way I’m staying back. Kai knows the way. And I know how Doug operates. All I have to do is make it to my smaze.”
Amber’s mouth falls open. “Yeah, no. That’s definitely not a smart plan, Jack. That smaze is a wild card. We have no idea how it will react if you try to take it back—or how you will react, for that matter. It’s a risk we can’t afford right now.”
“So that’s it?” I shout. “You’re just going to stick me in a room and make me watch from the sidelines while you rescue my girlfriend?”
Amber folds her arms around herself, her brows pulled low. “I’m sorry, Jack.”
Julio doesn’t even have the balls to look at me.
“I told them,” Kai says in a low voice, “we were doing just fine on our own. We have weapons, and we have a plan. You’re going to find Fleur, and I’m going to find my sister. We don’t need anybody else’s help.”
Julio rolls his eyes. The others ignore her.
“I need to take a leak,” I mutter. I don’t. I’m just tired and frustrated and I need a minute to think.
Julio inclines his head toward a tunnel at the end of the chamber. “Need me to go with you?”
“Thanks,” I bite out, “but I can piss by myself.” I touch the knot on the back of my head, careful not to pull my stitches as I limp between the coffins. Kai’s eyes flick up to mine as I pass where she sits. There’s an urgency in them, or maybe it’s rage. But no sympathy. And I’m surprised by how grateful I am for that.
I melt into the darkness of the tunnel and slump back against the wall, listening to the others argue in hushed whispers.
“If Sampson’s not screwing with us, then the Autumn wing isn’t far,” Julio says. “The northwest tunnel should take us close to Amber’s room. We can leave the Handlers there.”
“Jack lost a lot of blood. We should let him rest here for a while first.” Dammit, Poppy. No.
“I agree,” Amber chimes in. “He’s in no shape to be navigating the catacombs. What if he has a concussion?” Like she ever worried about my head injuries before. She was the one who gave me most of them.
“We can wait here another hour, then take him to Amber’s room,” Julio says. “He’ll be safe there with the two of you while Amber and I search for Chill and Fleur.”
The hell you will, Verano.
I push off the wall, ready to storm out of the tunnel and start a fight, when I catch
Kai staring right at me, her eyes burning a hole through the dark.
Her knuckles whiten around her bow. She nods once, the faintest dip of her chin, as if she knows I’m watching. Her mouth moves, her lips forming a single silent word: Go.
She juts her chin once toward the tunnel. Her hand slides from the bow to the neck of a water bottle, prying it open as the others continue talking between bites of bread. She sets the bottle down beside her and reaches into her pocket.
What is she doing?
Without a sound, she withdraws a spool of fishing line. She glances up at me as she ties the end of the clear filament to an arrow hidden under her outstretched leg.
Understanding burns the last of the fog from my head. I start backing down the tunnel. That’s all the cue Kai needs.
She rolls onto one knee, lifting her bow and taking aim at the torch. Poppy shrieks, ducking her head as the arrow finds its mark. Kai jerks hard on the string, yanking the torch from its hole. The others recoil from the spray of sparks as Kai pulls the torch across the ground, dragging it hand over hand toward herself. There’s a shout and a hiss as she empties her water bottle over the flame, plunging the cavern into darkness.
I turn, feeling my way through the tunnel. Kai plows into my back, pushing me deeper into the cave.
“Faster!” She takes my hand, pulling me behind her. Arrows rattle in the quiver under her arm. There’s scuffling in the chamber as the others scramble after us. Amber calls my name and Julio swears as the catacombs swallow us whole.
28
A Deeper Roar
FLEUR
I’ve been drifting in and out of sleep for an hour, probably more, my heels hanging over the end of the sofa in Doug’s apartment. The security alarm chimes, and I sit up fast as the door flies open.
Doug storms into the room. He strips off a pair of black leather gloves and tosses them on the arm of the sofa as he drops into it, releasing an angry sigh. One of the gloves slips over the edge and falls on the floor, leaving a smear of red on the fabric. I kneel and pick it up.
“Why is there blood on your hands?” I ask. The leather is soaked, staining my fingers. I catch a hint of peppermint and pine. Winter magic.
My breath comes quick when I remember the feed on the TV screen. Doug was carrying his scythe when he visited Chill’s cell.
But this blood isn’t Chill’s. Only faintly tinged with residual hints of magic, it smells too human, as if it belonged to a Winter once.
My mind reels back to Doug’s argument with Lixue. The incident at the south portal. Something about a breach . . . “Whose blood is on your hands?”
Doug laughs under his breath, and my knees threaten to buckle.
“What have you done?” The question comes out on a choked sob. The lamp flickers, and I feel the ends of my hair rise. Doug shoots to his feet as I stalk toward him, until I’m standing eye level with the red sprays blending into the patterns on his tie. Tears stream down my cheeks as I kick and throw punches at him.
There’s too much blood. Everything about it smells like Jack’s.
Doug stumbles back, tripping against the sofa as I shove him. He reaches out, catching my fist as it swings. With a sudden sharp wrench of my arm, he spins me around, trapping me against him, pinning my hands as I try to claw and scratch him.
“Stop it!” I feel the blood soaking into the back of my shirt, and a scream explodes from me.
The floor begins to shake, making the crystal decanter rattle on its tray. Doug grips me tighter as I thrash to get free. The chandelier above us swings, threatening to break loose, but I don’t care. I want to bury him under it.
“Calm down!” he shouts, watching the ceiling. I bite down on his arm, tasting the blood on his sleeve and the tang of his magic as my teeth break skin. He barks out a curse.
There’s a sudden, dizzying whirl of motion as Doug picks me up and throws me down onto the couch, his face livid. “The blood isn’t Jack’s, dammit! I said stop!”
The tremors still. He stands over me, his chest heaving, his one eye glittering and wild. His eyepatch has slipped off, and the sight of what remains where his other eye should be steals my breath. The empty socket is black, the burnt flesh surrounding it withered and sunken. I swallow, fighting the urge to be sick. Doug turns away from me, letting his hair fall over it as he snatches his eyepatch from the floor and slips it over his head. He adjusts it to cover his missing eye before brushing back his hair and watching the slowing swing of the chandelier.
“Believe me,” he says through his teeth, “when I find Jack, I have no intention of killing him quickly.”
“Then whose blood is it?”
“None of your business.” He unbuttons his shirt cuffs, tugging up his sleeve. Blood trickles from the bite in his arm, and he frowns at it, then at me, before stripping off the shirt and tossing it in the trash can. “Get your coat. We’re leaving as soon as you’ve pulled yourself together.”
I swipe at my lips, surprised by the smear of red on them but not guilty enough to acknowledge any remorse. If he’s looking for an apology, he won’t get one from me. I stalk to the bathroom and splash water over my face, spitting out the vile taste of him as I rinse my mouth in the sink.
Whatever Doug has planned, our little field trip will get me outside that door. And that means an opportunity to run. To find Jack and the others before they make it here.
29
The Tree the Tempest
DOUG
The elevator to the surface is slow. Halfway up, the power flickers and the car lurches.
Fleur grips the railing. Her eyes dart skyward as the lights flash on and off, and the car resumes its climb to the east portal. I didn’t dare take her through the Winter wing, where Lixue just dispatched four teams of Guards to hunt for Jack. Jack may have come down through the Summer portal, but the Winter halls were his stomping ground. Every map in his footlocker was of the catacombs below the north wing—below my office and my apartment. I’m not ready for that confrontation. Not yet. When I face off with Jack, I will have the eye, and I will have Gaia’s magic. Jack may be human, but his friends are not. I won’t underestimate them the way Michael did.
The elevator doors open, and the Guard inside the townhouse leaps to her feet. She dips her head. “Chronos.”
“Where’s my team?”
She gestures to the door. “Already in position.”
Lightning flickers through the windows. The wind howls, branches scraping like nails over the siding. I don’t relish the idea of going out in this weather, but I have no choice. According to Lixue, we’ve lost seventeen Seasons on two more continents, and that number will only climb as the storms spiral out of control.
Fleur recoils as I throw open the door and an icy mist blows in. I shove her out into the night, drawing up my collar against the rain as I direct her by the arm toward Greenwich Park.
“I thought Gaia’s magic protected the weather here,” she says through a shiver, “or did you manage to screw that up, too?”
She’s talking about the magic that insulates this region from the constant passage of Seasons through the portals. If I hadn’t managed to cage Gaia’s magic in that orb, the city would probably be leveled by now.
“I didn’t screw up anything,” I say, spitting cold rain as it slices down my face. “We are protected. You think it’s bad in London? You should see the rest of Europe right now. This,” I say, gesturing to the violent sky, “is what happens when you have windstorms in Germany, torrential flooding in Spain, and hailstorms in France. Welcome to the shitshow you and your boyfriend started.” Fleur pulls ahead, her intent gaze illuminated by a quick flash of lightning as she cuts through the rain toward the empty park. There’s not a soul in sight, no one else crazy enough to brave the storm that’s hovered over our region for days. I give her enough rein to cross the street and vault the brick wall onto the grassy knoll. Not far in the distance, I catch the flash of four red transmitter lights. I tap my own, confirming my co
nnection to the Control Room and ordering everyone to conceal their locations.
A surge of static bites the air as Fleur reaches the oak on the other side of the wall.
“Just so we’re clear, I have a team of Guards positioned around us. They’re watching everything you do. If you so much as step one toe out of line, your friend Chill will pay the price. And if you even attempt to run, they will hunt you down and end you.” The blood on my hands could just as easily have been Chill’s, and she knows it.
Her eyes narrow against the rain. The air sizzles as lightning shatters the sky over the park. “What are we doing out here?”
“Resuming class.” I gesture to the tree, a grin stretching across my face. “The faster you show me how to control the earth magic, the sooner we go inside.”
She scrapes her hair back from her eyes, darting glances into the shadows. Static crackles around her as she flexes her fingers. “Fine,” she says, staring at the oak behind me. “Why don’t we start with a demonstration?”
Her magic vibrates like a ley line, singing a path under my feet. She jerks her fist. A branch hisses through the air like a whip and slices across my cheek. My hand shoots out to grab it. Fleur cries out as I snap it between my fingers.
She leaps back, clutching her hand. Blood streams between her knuckles, mixing with the rain. Her face contorts with pain as she stares at the misshapen bone in her pinkie.
“I told you not to do that!” My cheek stings.
She drops to her knees, pain and the cold stealing her strength.
“Damn it, we don’t have time for this.” I summon my Winter magic. She reels back from me, shrieking as I grab her broken finger with a freezing hand. Pain like a heart attack grips my chest, and she gasps, doubling over as my magic pours into her. Her wound knits together as the bones in her finger straighten and fuse. When it’s over, I shove her away from me with a groan.
Fleur clutches her ribs, both of us panting as the pain of the magic ebbs. “That magic . . .” she breathes. “It’s going to kill you. No amount of practice is going to save you from that!”
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