“What do you think we should do?” Iris whispered, following close on my heels.
Stepping farther into the street, I looked up into the blank glare of the stars. I shivered. It was cold here—not the cold of an icy Minnesota winter, but a chill that went deeper. I turned to Iris, swallowing thickly. I kept my voice low. “Do you think you could fight another Harrower?”
“I wouldn’t necessarily need to fight it. Just touch it—if it’s one that’s strong enough to breach the Circle. But I’m not sure I could handle one here.”
“There has to be something we can—”
The ground shifted suddenly, thrusting upward, knocking me from my feet.
“Dammit,” I complained. As I hauled myself upright, I saw a trace of blood on my palms.
Iris stared at me in horror.
“You can’t bleed here.”
Something sharp and metallic had dug itself in the skin of my left hand. I removed it gingerly, then drew back quickly as pain raced up my arm. I looked at Iris.
“Does blood attract demons?”
I had a sudden, terrible vision of Harrowers swimming up out of the night like sharks.
Iris tugged her scarf free from her coat, pushing it toward me to cover my hands. “You’re the daughter of Morning Star,” she whispered. “This place knows you, Audrey. It knows your blood.”
Around us, the air rippled. The doors of every car blew open in unison, metal screeching in our ears, then slammed shut. A loud, unearthly keening rose up, filling my senses. Like some kind of alarm system for the Beneath.
Or some kind of awakening.
Iris and I stared at each other, our breath clouding the air. Red stars burned above us. I twisted about, searching the street for movement. The sky fractured once more. There was a flash of light, a moment of darkness. My surroundings shifted again, colors vanishing, leaving everything a pale, deathly gray.
Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the keening stopped.
I turned back toward Iris. “What just happened?” I asked, a tremor in my voice.
But Iris didn’t answer.
She was no longer there.
***
Alone, I turned in slow, uncertain circles. The street had disappeared. Gone were the buildings, the skeletal cars, the knotted trees. There were no stars, no hint of sky. Cold, colorless sand shifted beneath me when I took a step, swallowing up my footprints. Everything was muted and dim. The only color that remained was the blue of my coat, the blood on my hands. Somewhere, a wind was blowing.
I called out for Iris, but my voice sounded harsh and loud in the echoing stillness. There was no response. I fell silent, worrying what else might hear me. What else might answer.
I told myself to remain calm. Panic wouldn’t serve me. I needed to think. Harrowers moved out from Beneath, so there was a way. They crept out in places where the fabric was thin, pushing through the Circle and into the city. There would be some path to follow. There had to be.
But around me was only wasteland, emptiness spreading outward, dry, dead earth below the cold sand. I took a step forward, then another. Though I had no clear direction in mind, progress felt important. I walked, and kept walking; minutes, hours—I wasn’t certain how long. I simply moved, stopping on occasion to check if my surroundings had altered, if I could discover some sign, anything that might point the way. Nothing changed. The emptiness continued around me unbroken. Briefly, I considered trying to reach out with my Knowing, but something told me I shouldn’t try that here. I remembered Gram telling me there were places it was best not to look.
Even as I thought that, awareness crept over me. Not a Knowing. Something physical. The sort of awareness that makes your skin prickle and your heart freeze. I halted, barely breathing. I knew what that awareness meant.
This space was not mine, and it did not welcome me. But it wanted me.
In the stillness that surrounded me, the emptiness breathed. Something here was alive. Something old and angry, watchful, ravenous. It didn’t have shape or name. But it knew me. Knew I was Kin. Knew my blood.
I turned, feeling the wind on my neck. In the low light beyond me, nothing stirred, but that nothing was bitter, full of craving.
As I stood there, that emptiness spoke to me. It whispered that I was forgotten. That I was abandoned. It whispered that this was what it was like to be left behind in the void. What it was like to know grief, to know wrath, to feel nothing but horror and hate bubbling up inside you in the blank space that should have sheltered a heart. To feel corruption eating up the light within until corruption was all that remained. To decay.
You are going to die here, that stillness said. You are going to want to die.
It was then that I realized I was no longer alone.
The first Harrower approached leisurely. It didn’t walk upright, but crept, pulling itself forward, pausing, observing me. Here, Beneath, it had no need for disguise. I saw its face plainly. Gaunt flesh, silver and scaled, was pulled taut across its skull. Pale milk eyes blinked above an eager smile.
The second Harrower came slinking behind it.
I whirled, ready to flee, but I hadn’t taken more than a step before I stopped short. The third Harrower was closing in from behind. This one was farther away, but moving faster. The click of its talons upon the ground was rapid, restless. At its side, the fourth progressed at an uneven pace, cautious and watchful. The fifth was running.
After that, I stopped counting. I glanced from side to side, but no direction was safe. Others were approaching now, and others beyond those, a thick net tightening. The nearest were slow, methodical in their advance; those farther away came hurtling across the distance, all of them moving closer, closer.
I knew, in that moment, that the voice had been right. I was going to die. I felt it with a certainty so deep that it pushed me beyond hope, beyond fear, beyond helplessness. For just a moment, I closed my eyes. I thought of Gram’s voice, soft as she bent to whisper secrets. I thought of Mom sitting beside me in sweet summer grasses, leaning back to point out the moon. I remembered Gideon hitting a baseball up over the roof of my house, how it rolled so far we’d never found it.
These are the things I’ll take with me, I thought.
I opened my eyes as the first demon reached me. I didn’t scream when I felt its claws.
I fought.
I wasn’t strong like my mother. No Guardians powers surged through my veins, no sudden swiftness to dodge blows, to counter and evade. No lights glowed beneath my fingertips. When the demon caught the side of my neck, I felt my flesh tear. Warm blood oozed onto my coat and steamed in the chill. But I fought. Frenzied, uncaring, I grappled with the demon, thrusting it away from me and then rushing it, my hands seeking its throat. If I was going to die, I wasn’t going to die easy.
The Harrower’s skin was cold and hard. My nails couldn’t pierce it, but I squeezed, digging my fingers as far as I could. This demon wasn’t as strong as the others I’d seen, but it was strong enough. It tossed me backward and then launched itself against me. All around me, I heard the sounds of talons click-click-clicking upon the ground. I rolled away as the demon sunk its claws into my arm. I didn’t register pain. My hands went for its throat again, wild, ineffectual, unable to break its skin.
Teeth, I thought. Teeth might puncture it.
From somewhere above, I heard a man’s rich chuckle and then a familiar voice, lightly accented, warm with amusement. “This vicious streak of yours is quite becoming, but it’s like to get you killed. Allow me, please.”
The demon was wrenched from my grasp. A silver form blurred past, dragging the Harrower with it. The two figures tumbled beyond my vision, and I heard a sudden, sickening snap.
I jumped to my feet and a hand caught at my elbow. Spinning wildly, I brought my arm up to fling away my attacker. Human fingers caught my wrist in a firm grip.
“Audrey,” a low voice breathed.
Then there were hands on my shoulders, big hands, gripping
me tightly. There were arms I knew, and white shirtsleeves, and a tie blown about in the wind. Dazed, uncertain, I looked up into dark blue eyes and an anxious face. Leon.
He drew me against him, wrapping an arm around my waist. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, and I felt an instant of dizzy relief, even as the chaos roared around us.
Nearby, the other man’s voice said, “No time for reunions, I’m afraid. We need to leave. You’ve attracted the wrong sort of attention, and the locals here aren’t friendly.”
Before I could respond, Leon tightened his grip on me, his other arm curving around my back. As I looked up, I caught the briefest glimpse of Harrower faces, dozens beyond us, a tide pushing forward. Some running, some creeping. Red teeth gleaming.
“Definitely time to go,” the unseen man said.
A cold hand slid into mine. I sucked in a breath—and darkness closed in around me.
24
Exiting the Beneath was not like entering it.
As that thick darkness engulfed my senses, the hand tugged me forward. Leon’s arms remained securely around me, but I felt the ground give way beneath us. My throat was hot. I smelled blood. All around me were small explosions of sound. I heard music, and whispers, and a harsh, braying laughter. I caught the cries of animals—wolf howls and the hum of bees and the swift drumbeat of a bird heart. A high, broken wail found its way beneath my skin and settled there, so mournful and wild that I tried to pull back, to shake free of the hand that grasped me. The wind rose up, tearing its way into my lungs.
Then we were out.
I hadn’t fallen. The sidewalk was solid under my feet, gray cement wet with snow in an empty street yellowed by lamplight. My hand had been freed, but Leon’s arms held firm. Above, the sky was dark with clouds, but here and there starlight pushed through. I didn’t move. I didn’t react to the pressure of Leon’s hands against me, sliding down my arms, turning my wrists so he could see the cuts on my palms still burning red. I didn’t react to him brushing the hair back from my face, or tugging me against him.
Then, finally, his voice broke through.
He was speaking.
He was saying my name.
He was telling me I was all right.
Relief washed through me, making my knees watery. Leon’s arm curved around my back. I leaned forward, resting against his shoulder. I told myself I would stay there only a second, but for that second, I simply stood and breathed.
Nearby, the other man spoke. “There now. Back in the land of the mostly living, with all limbs attached and in their proper positions. Nothing to it.”
I pulled away from Leon and turned toward the voice. The man stood a short distance from us, his blond hair dusted with snow. Recognition sparked. I knew this man. Though I hadn’t seen him clearly, I’d met him twice before. I recalled those green eyes and the trace of laughter in his tone. It was the same man who had rescued me outside the Drought and Deluge.
Frowning in confusion, I was about to speak—and then my mother appeared, yanking me away from Leon and into her arms. “Oh, thank God,” she murmured.
“And here I was thinking you might thank me,” the man said.
Mom ignored him, hugging me tightly against her. For just a moment, I Knew her feelings as strongly as if they had been my own: the choking fear that finally ebbed, that rush of relief at seeing me safe. Then her grip loosened, and she lifted her hands to my shoulders, stepping back to inspect the wound on my neck. Her mouth tightened.
I gazed down at my coat. The thick cotton padding had served as a peculiar sort of armor, though it was slashed open in places, tufts of white spilling out. The fabric was matted with blood where the Harrower had grazed the skin above my collarbone, but I didn’t think the wound was deep. “I’m okay,” I said.
Beside us, the man spoke again. “I wouldn’t fret. I expect the damage isn’t permanent.” His voice lowered, that hint of amusement returning. “Fierce, though, isn’t she? All full of . . . fire.”
Mom shot him a warning glare, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at me. His lips were upturned, his gaze intent. As our eyes met, something clicked into place. I tensed, recalling a flash of silver, the feel of a cold hand in mine. He appeared to be only a man—but he hadn’t been a man, Beneath. “You’re a Harrower,” I said.
“You needn’t worry. I’ve made my peace with the human community. You can call me Shane.”
“He’s neutral,” Leon explained, moving beside me. His hand hovered near my shoulder. “Supposedly.”
“I prefer misunderstood.” The Harrower smiled again, an easy grin that left me a little bewildered. “I’m completely at your service, angel. Your mum and this fellow here came begging.”
“I believe we came threatening,” Leon retorted.
“Semantics.”
Mom lifted a hand, cutting off their argument. She turned to Leon, her mouth a thin line. “I can’t get a hold of Ryan. I need you to go find him. Let him know the situation. We have some things to take care of.”
He gave her a short nod and headed away, disappearing down the street.
The situation. I wondered if that meant Anna Berkeley. Or—
A jolt of panic coursed through me. I grabbed my mother’s arm. “Iris. I forgot—Iris was with me. Beneath.”
“I sent her home.” Mom’s voice was quiet, but I heard a note of anger in it, carefully restrained. “They brought her out first.”
“You were the problem,” Shane said. “You were drawn into a deeper level. Any further and we wouldn’t have been able to find you. And it’s lucky we reached you when we did. I expect you wouldn’t be nearly so pretty if you came in several pieces.” Before I could think of some response to that, he turned to Mom. “That’s two favors you owe me now, and don’t think I’m likely to forget.”
She put one hand on her hip and shook her head. “I’m already overlooking the fact that my kid was attacked in your club.”
Shane made a tch noise. “Outside my club, actually. And I notified the proper authorities.”
Mom twitched. It was a good thing she wasn’t near a streetlamp, or I had the feeling Shane would have shortly come into very close contact with it.
“So that’s why I have Detective Wyle breathing down my neck. You know, for someone who wants to keep all his internal organs internal, you could learn a bit more about diplomacy.”
“Like rescuing your daughter twice now, maybe? Don’t worry, from what I’ve seen of the good detective, the part of your anatomy that interests him is somewhat lower down.”
Mom made a noise suspiciously like a growl.
“But let me give you a bit of free advice,” Shane continued. “A token of my goodwill. On the subject of necks: you’re going to have to get to work if you want to save his. He’s running headlong into a threat he is ill-prepared to face.”
“I’ve warned him already.”
His voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t think a warning will suffice.” He switched his gaze to me. “Nice seeing you again, little Dark Star. Keep looking for that light.” Then he turned down the street, disappearing into the swirl of snow.
I watched him go. Dark Star. He’d called me that before, outside the Drought and Deluge. Not quite the bright shining star your mum is, he’d said. She wasn’t shining now. Her stance was rigid, her face grim. Worry had fled, and a deep fury had replaced it.
I swallowed. I’d broken my promise. “Mom—”
“Not now.” She grabbed hold of my sleeve, tugging none too gently. Ignoring my protests, she steered me down the street, toward her car, then ushered me inside. A faint dusting of snow lay on the windshield. I waited for her to speak, to lecture me, or threaten to snap me in two like a soda cracker, but she just breathed, tapped her fingers on the dashboard, and started the car.
Silence was heavy between us as we began the drive. There was little traffic. The city felt empty, full of spaces and gaps. A memory of Beneath, I thought. I could see the layer of red shadows edging
along the buildings, the places where lights ceased. With my thoughts in disarray, it took me several minutes to realize we were headed in the wrong direction.
“We’re not going home?” I asked.
Mom didn’t look at me. “I’m taking you to the ER.”
“I’m fine,” I said. The wounds on my arm and neck hurt, but the bleeding had stopped.
“This isn’t a discussion.”
At the hospital, our official explanation was that I’d been attacked by a dog, which involved a tetanus shot, several stitches, and Mom assuring the nurses that she’d already contacted Animal Control. She spent most of the visit talking on her cell phone, even when instructed not to, and vanished outside on occasion—so that her calls wouldn’t be overheard, I supposed. A nurse tried to chat with me, but I didn’t feel up to small talk. She patted my arm and told me I’d be better soon. I looked away, toward dark windows lined with frost. I felt like a storm had passed through me, raging and wild, and now I stood in the aftermath, trying to assess the damage. Inside me, something had altered. Something had been pulled loose and rattled around and no longer fit quite right. I closed my eyes and saw Harrowers: stark faces, red teeth. I heard the sharp click of nails.
I wondered how Iris was.
Mom was quiet during the drive home. When I tried to talk, she gave me clipped, one-word answers. I watched the streets blur past. Outside, the snow had stopped, but the clouds were dark and low, cloaking the moon. I felt like crying. I didn’t know why; I hadn’t cried Beneath, not when I’d stood alone in the emptiness, or when the Harrowers had circled me, or even when I’d felt that fierce, terrible certainty that I would die—but I wanted to cry now.
Instead, I asked about Anna Berkeley. Mom confirmed that she’d had Leon and Mr. Alvarez set up Guardian protection, but I could tell by the look on her face that the subject was a mistake.
“I tried to call,” I said. “We had to get to her right away. We wouldn’t have gone out there otherwise.”
Dark Star Page 18