Edie was the only one left. About ten feet behind Indriði, she attempted to sit up, choking, shaking.
Snap.
The Norn had jumped halfway across the room and was standing over Edie. She planted a foot against her shoulder, pinning her where she sat.
“Thanks for everything, hon. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Snap.
Existence stopped.
The first thing to pierce through the darkness was the impossible cold. The area around Edie was freezing; it seeped through her clothes and numbed her skin, sapping her of the energy to do anything but curl up and shiver and try to preserve a modicum of warmth. Eventually, slowly, sounds stood out in this void. Somewhere nearby, water was dripping. There were shouts and laughs coming from far off.
She had been underground enough recently to recognize how the noise bounced off the walls. There are hidden tunnels all over this city, Khenbu had said. Well, she was sick of being in them.
Finally, she became aware of someone breathing raggedly near her. It took her a moment to realize it was herself.
How long had it been since Indriði’s assault? A few minutes, days, a year? They all felt the same.
Edie cracked open an eye.
The room around her was very dark—but the barest light coming from somewhere down the corridor was enough to make out that she was sitting in a cell, surrounded by three walls of stone and one of iron bars. She turned her head slightly, teeth chattering. Shackles were riveted to the walls and floors all around her, and a fold-up bunk, wooden and bare, was suspended from a chain across the room.
A tingle of hope went through her. If she could get up and lie on that instead of the floor, she wouldn’t be so cold. Standing was out of the question; her body felt so weak. She shuffled onto her knees and tried to crawl her way over.
A jerk on her ankle stopped her short. When she looked back, she noticed that she was shackled to the floor, just out of reach of the bunk.
Edie closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. The oxygen in her lungs was healing, and after a few minutes of deep breathing, she finally mustered the strength to stand and go to the bars of her cell.
“Hello?” she whispered into the darkness.
It swallowed up her words. She might as well have been talking to a black hole. Was this real? Was this even time? She started to wonder.
“Hello?” she tried again.
Suddenly, as if in answer, an orange light flooded the corridor. It came closer, accompanied by footsteps. Edie leaned into the bars eagerly, desperate to come face to face with Indriði. She had a thing or two to say.
But when the figures finally emerged, she deflated completely. It wasn’t Indriði standing there. In fact, it was two people. One was Scarlet, holding a torch in front of her smiling face. When she saw the other, Edie’s world began to spin, and she sank to her knees again.
Her father.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Edie could barely take her eyes off Richard Holloway’s face as Scarlet approached the bars of her cell.
“Hello, little thing,” the wight said, watching Edie’s expression with relish. “You still have a paycheck to pick up. And by the way, you’re fired.”
Edie’s voice was like a tremulous wind when she spoke, searching her father’s face. “I don’t understand.”
He said nothing, simply stared back at her with those familiar slate eyes. Her own eyes. Her own face.
“Aww, what a happy reunion.” Scarlet showed her teeth. “Papa,” she said to Richard, reaching out to pinch his cheek, “why don’t you give your little girl a kiss?”
Edie scooted away from the bars, pressing her back against the far wall. The wight’s eyes shone with glee as she produced an iron ring of keys, picking one out with precise movements. She opened the cell and made way for Richard.
Aside from the horrible, alien hunger in his eyes, everything was so familiar it hurt. He looked exactly as he had ten years ago, down to the tiny wrinkles around his eyes, the severe cut of his beard, the salt-and-pepper starting at his temples. But something was wrong…
He hadn’t changed at all.
That was impossible.
Fake Dad crouched and grabbed her by her shoulders, bearing down on her. When she fought against him, he gripped her throat and jerked her down, pinning her to the flagstones. A cry started to leave her, but was cut short as he brought his face closer to hers. His mouth was open, eyes rolling back in his head as he inhaled deeply.
Realization slammed into Edie. So this was the breathstealer that had attacked Mercy.
Her throat spasmed, her lungs aching as the life was sucked from her. White streaks flickered in her quickly darkening vision, pulled from her and into the creature holding her down. Edie struggled as hard as she could against the strong grip. The feeling of having no obstruction in front of your face or in your throat but still not being able to breathe was maddening, and try as she might, she couldn’t keep her mind from switching into panic mode.
If she couldn’t get out of this soon, she would pass out. And lord knew what they’d do then. She couldn’t let it happen.
Its face was mere inches from hers, if that; but, blessedly, the creature had switched from looking like her father to looking strangely amorphous. Its appearance whirled and shifted as it focused fully on stealing her breath, her life.
She attempted to jerk her head to the side, but she was almost immediately pulled back by a strange gravity. As if to make extra sure she wouldn’t be going anywhere, the breathstealer grabbed her by the chin, clutching, forcing her jaw to stay open and facing forward.
Her extremities began to go numb, but still she fought, trying to kick and push her assailant away. Her attempts must have been pretty pathetic, because it didn’t move even an inch.
Darkness clouded her vision; her movements slowed, then stopped. There was no point in fighting. She couldn’t see or feel where it was, where she was, anymore. There was nothing in this darkness. The world was gone. Did she even exist? Had she ever existed?
Suddenly, her lungs filled with oxygen, a primitive sense of awareness coming back to her. A woman was saying something in a harsh voice, echoing all around her. The blackness receded ice fractals thawing on a windowpane, giving way to a yellow light. Bars, and two forms, but they were swimming in double vision….
Her muscles ached. Her throat ached. She rested her head on the cold stone floor. From the corner of her eye, she watched the breathstealer turn into her father again and slink out the cell door, its back to Scarlet.
“That’s enough entertainment for now,” the wight said with cruel satisfaction as she locked the door. “I’ll come back with another face soon, Edie. I found lots of good memories to use while you were sleeping.”
Disgust and violation curled up in Edie’s stomach and bled like dying animals. Edie followed suit, hugging her knees to her chest and turning away until Scarlet and the light were gone. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus on her ragged, fast breaths, trying to calm them before her lungs collapsed from strain.
She lay there blearily for a while before she mustered the strength to sit up and scoot over to the bars. She gripped them, testing their strength. They were sturdy as hell and close together. Even at peak performance, she wouldn’t be able to move them.
Slowly, she stood, examining her surroundings. The chain around her ankle allowed her to reach the back wall, and she pushed against it and the adjacent one, trying to find a weak stone. They were all perfectly aligned, however, the mortar between them still good. She’d never be able to get out this way. If only she still had that stupid piece of chalk.
Her heart sank. The only way she was getting out of this cell was if someone let her out.
Going back to the bars, she decided to test her voice. It sounded fine, if a bit strained. “Hello? Is anyone here?”
“Edie?”
It was Satara’s voice, barely above a whisper. Edie watched with re
lief as the shieldmaiden crept out from the shadows of the cell across from her, leaning against the bars. Scarlet’s voice must have woken her.
“Are you okay?” Edie asked.
“My head hurts, and my muscles.” Satara’s overdress was damp and torn in a few places, and her hair was half-down from its bun, but other than that, there were no outward signs of injury.
Edie was able to relax slightly. At least they were both intact, though god only knew how long that would be the case. “Where are we, do you know?”
Satara shook her head. “I have no idea. Somewhere underground, obviously.”
Edie looked up at the ceiling as though it would provide her with some clue. Every so often, the dungeon seemed to tremble as though an earthquake was rippling through. She’d been in enough underground clubs to have an idea of what it meant. It had happened in Khenbu’s tunnels, too. “I think we’re still in the city. That shaking is probably foot traffic on the streets above us, or maybe the subway.”
The shieldmaiden frowned thoughtfully as she listened to the laughing and movement in the nearby corridors. “This place sounds enormous. How could it be under the city without anyone knowing?”
“I was, uh … in a place like this recently, running an errand.” Edie looked back at her. “The person who lived there said there are secret tunnels like this all over the city.” She pointed to Satara’s dress. “Do you still have your dog whistle?”
“It won’t work. Astrid said the Norn’s home is filled with anti-teleportation wards.” Satara sighed hard and tried the bars.
“They’re sturdy,” Edie said. “I checked mine, too.”
“Someone’s been maintaining this place.”
“I checked the walls, too, but there weren’t any loose bricks or anything.” She nodded to the wall behind Satara.
The shieldmaiden followed her gaze and disappeared into the darkness for a few moments. When she came back, she shook her head. “None in mine, either.” She glared down the corridor. “I can’t believe that witch tricked us. She drew us in and didn’t even let us put up a real fight.”
Edie closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the bars. Satara was right, of course. How could she have been so stupid? She should have seen the lies. No one helped for nothing in return. She should have learned that by now. With a sigh, she said, “The people that dragged you away, did you see them? They were New Gloaming.”
“Damn.” Satara loosed a breath, shaking her head uncertainly. “But Astrid said spirits of Fate don’t care about factions. Why would that change now?”
“Maybe she hates Astrid just that much.”
“Do you think Zaedicus recruited her at his party?”
“He must have.”
Satara leaned closer to the bars, peering to her left, deeper into the dungeon. There were other cells, but they seemed empty—no noise came from them, anyway. “Where do you think Astrid is? She disappeared.”
“Maybe she’s dead,” Edie replied miserably.
The shieldmaiden shook her head. “You can’t kill a valkyrie.”
“What?”
“Not like you’re thinking.” She sighed. “They occasionally die in battles in other Worlds, but even then, they may not stay dead. Getting rid of them is doubly hard in Midgard because they’re already….”
Edie squinted at Satara. That was right—neither she nor Astrid had ever actually gotten around to telling her how one became a valkyrie. In fact, she knew next to nothing about them. “They’re already … dead?”
“In a manner of speaking.” The shieldmaiden sighed and rested her head against the bars, avoiding eye contact. “You’d have to obliterate one, wipe her from existence so entirely that she could not come back. I would know if that had happened to Astrid.”
Edie stared at Satara for a moment, wanting to ask more questions. There would be time for that later, though—for now, they had to think of some way to get out of here. They needed to find Astrid and make sure that she stayed not-obliterated.
“Did you see Scarlet?”
Satara shook her head. “I heard a familiar voice. Was that her?”
“Yeah.”
“Then Zaedicus and Sárr can’t be too far away.”
Edie rubbed her face. “Maybe next time she comes by, one of us can trick her into coming into our cell, and we can grab her keys. That’s the only way we’re getting out of here.”
Then, a thought donned on her. Cal. A couple of months ago, he’d been held captive, too. The only way she’d known to go looking for him was because she could feel his mind subconsciously crying out for help. If she could finally bring her walls down, maybe she could lead him here. Even if he had already made it to Vegas, he’d been able to sense her from across the country before. Why not now?
Of course, after their fight, maybe he wouldn’t come even if she could reach him. But it was a chance she had to take if she wanted to get out of here before something really bad went down.
She closed her eyes, felt around for the walls … and was shocked to find that they weren’t there. Panic turned into wild hope. They must have fallen while she was being attacked by the breathstealer. Her mind had had her back without her even knowing it. Could’ve used that sooner, but I’ll take it. She refocused and searched her mind for some hint of Cal.
She couldn’t feel anything. Still, she had to try.
Usually, when he was close, she felt a tiny bit of resistance as feelings passed from her consciousness to his, like diving into the ocean slowed your movement—but as she sent some thoughts out, she didn’t feel anything. Her voice simply echoed into the void.
Terror made her heart skip a beat, and she opened her eyes. Had he heard her? Was he blocking her out, or was she not doing it right? She hadn’t actually ever conveyed her emotions like this on purpose.
She’d just have to keep trying. There was no other choice.
“She’s coming,” Satara whispered from the cell across from her.
Edie turned her head to see yellow torchlight coming toward them again, and her blood pumped faster as familiar footfalls echoed off the corridor walls. She didn’t want Scarlet to come back, especially not with that breathstealer. She wasn’t sure she could handle another session of mind-crushing blackness, or seeing her father’s face in the flesh—or whatever other appearance Scarlet had stolen.
To her surprise, though, she didn’t recognize the person walking with the wight. He was a young black man, an inch or so under six feet tall, sporting a low fade and silver and brown splint armor. Though baby-faced and with concerned eyebrows, his resemblance to Satara was immediately apparent. They had practically the same eyes, cheekbones, chin.
Edie shifted her gaze to the shieldmaiden. She looked petrified.
A bad thing. Something Satara didn’t want to see.
Edie’s protective streak flared up. It made sense that Scarlet would want to torture Edie—it was almost fair, considering the upset she’d caused in the Gloaming. But Satara? Now she was just being cruel.
“Satara,” she barked, trying to refocus her attention. “Don’t believe it. It’s not real! It’s one of those things that attacked Mer—”
Scarlet lashed out, then, smacking the bars of Edie’s cell with the torch. “Quiet!” The flame flickered and spat embers that fell in Edie’s face, burning her eyelids and cheeks.
Edie pulled away, but didn’t relent. “Satara, it’s not real! Don’t believe anything they say to you!”
The breathstealer lingered impatiently, looking between Edie and Scarlet.
“I said quiet!” The wight moved to block Edie’s view of Satara. “Do you want me to bring your daddy back? You have a lot of catching up to do.”
Terror gripped Edie’s heart, but she couldn’t sit back and let her friends take the heat. She’d done that enough already. “Do whatever you want to me,” she mumbled. “Just leave her alone. She hasn’t done anything to you.”
Scarlet sighed and looked over her shoulder at the
breathstealer. She handed him her iron keyring and motioned for him to go to Satara.
“No!” Edie threw herself against the bars, reaching her arm out as far as she could to grab the wight’s. With a strength she didn’t know she had, she yanked Scarlet against the cell. The vampire hit the bars with a dull clang.
Scarlet’s reaction was quicker than Edie could ever have anticipated. She leveraged Edie’s grip against her, twisting her arm painfully so she lost her grip. Before Edie could regain control or back away, Scarlet had grabbed her shoulder and jerked her forward. Her face smacked against the iron bars.
Pain exploded. Her ears rang. Her head was suddenly filled with pressure, and a pervasive confusion entered her mind, such that all she could think to do was go limp and fall asleep.
Her back hit the stone floor. Maybe she lost consciousness, or maybe she lay there in a daze she would later forget. Either way, darkness set in.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cal was used to losing things. He was used to drifting from distraction to distraction—different people, same mistakes, same outcome. He was used to friends scattering to the winds and never speaking to him again. He was used to relying on his anger to carry him into the next day, or week, or year.
Above all, Cal was used to being alone, and he told himself he liked it that way.
It’d been three days since Edie had blown up at him, but he hadn’t left Anster yet. He’d only gotten a couple of miles down the highway before turning back. He told himself it was because he still had a score to settle here. That Scarlet bitch was still walking around with whatever she’d stolen from him. He intended to get it back from her, killing her for it if he had to.
That was the only reason. That was the safe explanation for turning around and coming back.
But there was no explanation for what he was doing now: sitting at the bar of some crummy Irish pub, drowning himself in the middle of the day. And that pissed him off.
Two months ago, he had promised himself he would run. Sure, maybe he wanted to stay and help the Reach, but he’d silently sworn that the second Edie Holloway inevitably showed her true colors, he’d leave her behind before she could stop him. And he’d kept that promise.
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