by Ryals, R. K.
Gray pushes back his hood, his arms crossing.
"And death," he says.
Emma doesn't argue.
"And death," she agrees. "But freedom is a fight. In a way, he's asked us to join this fight. The end result is worth the risk."
"Even if the risk means we have trusted someone who only wants us dead, not free?" one of the Garner twins asks.
It's Bruno who answers.
"Even then," he says. "We're dead anyway, aren't we? You saw Envy. You saw his strength. No matter the protection Alessandro is willing to give, do you really think he can keep us safe from any of the powerful Demons who want us dead because of our parents? Do you think he could keep us safe from Lucifer himself?"
The question hangs in the damp, suffocating air. I step away from the wall.
"You can trust him," I say. "Trust me on this. Would I be risking my life here with you if I didn't believe Marcas was the real deal. I was there when he won his war with Lucifer."
Lyre's jaw tightens, but she finally nods before beginning to move forward again. We all follow. There are no more doubts, no more questions. The fight with Envy has shaken up the hybrids. The dark and the pain are making them ask questions.
"I'm scared," Deidra says, and this time, even Lyre doesn't call her a coward.
Emma stumbles a little on the uneven ground, and I reach for her. She shies away, but I help her anyway. I care about her, but even I know now is not the time to pursue a romance. Maybe when this is over, we can start over, build a foundation on the shaky start we got at the Acropolis.
Emma stumbles again followed by Hesther farther down the line.
"You okay?" I ask.
Emma looks up nervously before glancing at her feet.
"Something isn't right," she says.
When Gray stumbles, I stiffen. There is a rumbling sound within the walls of the cavern. No one else seems to hear it, and I reach out and touch the cave wall. What it tells me is horrifying, and I am too late to stop it.
"Run!" I yell just as the cavern ceiling behind us collapses.
Chapter 19
Emma
Chaos . . . rumbling, roaring, insane chaos . . . pain. Silence.
I am on the floor of the labyrinth, my cheek against cold stone. There is dust in the air, and I cough, my mind trying to wrap itself around my current predicament. I'm not dead, but I hurt, and when I try to sit up, I realize there is no room to do anything other than lay.
"Emma?" a voice calls, and I instantly recognize it as Conor.
"Here," I manage, coughing on the grit I can feel in my mouth.
"Give me a minute," he says, and I feel the stone shift a little, the rock above my head lifting. It's still not enough to sit up.
"Can you crawl?" Conor asks.
I look down at my body. Nothing pins me, there are no broken bones, and I'm not hurting from anything worse than the fall.
"I think so," I answer back.
I scoot forward. There's a small opening in the stone, and I crawl carefully, painstakingly slow. My cheek burns, and it feels wet. My knees throb.
"Is everyone okay?" I call out.
There is silence from Conor's end, and my blood runs cold.
"Conor?"
I'm near the opening now, and I reach up to grab the stone, using it to lift me.
"I don't know," Conor finally answers, his hands reaching through to grab my arms. I cling to him. "Bruno is through. The roof didn't completely collapse, but it's close. I need help to get everyone out."
I am through the hole now, my eyes landing on Conor's grit-covered face. He lifts me carefully, his eyes searching. When he runs a palm down the side of my cheek, and it comes back red, I know I've skinned it pretty badly. I can feel the pain now, and I wince.
Conor pulls his sweatshirt up over his head before stripping off a black t-shirt. He holds it to the wound, pulling my hand up to hold it in place before pulling the sweatshirt back on. Behind him, Bruno is kneeling near the cavern floor, his hand through the small space between the floor and the stone.
"Gargoyle, I need you," Bruno says through gritted teeth, and I know he has one of the other hybrids.
Conor moves next to him, his forehead creased as he focuses on the stone. I turn away, my eyes on the floor. I can feel emotions under the stone, and I grasp onto them.
"Deidra," I call out, my bruised knees coming down to meet the rocky dampness below me. There is no answer. There is fear under the stone, pain. I search for Ace, instinctively knowing he has avoided the danger. I think, although I'm not sure, that I would have felt his death had it happened. He keens from behind me, and I look over my shoulder to find him slinking from the darkness beyond. Somehow he has avoided the collapsed cavern the same way Conor and Bruno has.
Conor peers over his shoulder, and I gesture at the drex.
"I think he can help," I say.
Conor nods, and I send the drex images, images of the stone, of him lifting it carefully. Ace moves toward the debris and puts his nose against the rubble. I lean back down to the floor.
"Deidra . . . Gray . . . Gwenyth . . ."
"Here."
The words are faint, and I stoop to look beneath the stone remains. A few feet away is Gwenyth Garner. Even in the darkness, my eyes detect the tears on her cheeks and my heart sinks. I lower my hand through the crumbling rock.
"Crawl, Gwen," I say.
She is quiet a moment.
"My sister . . ." she breathes, the words broken by sobs. I don't know what to say. I'm afraid to know what Gwenyth's leaving unsaid. I'm afraid to know why Gwenyth's cheeks are covered with tears.
"Is she with you, Gwen?" I finally ask.
There is sniffling.
"She's not moving, Em."
My breath catches, and I realize my cheeks are wetter than they were before, Conor's t-shirt crumpled on the stone floor next to me. Even if the scrape is still bleeding, I know most of the wetness is from tears.
I lift my head, my eyes on Bruno and Conor as Bruno helps a coughing Lyre from the wreckage. Conor's gaze moves my way, and I wave at the debris. The tears are too thick to speak. He moves toward me, kneeling carefully.
"It's Gwenyth. She says Hesther's with her but not moving."
I choke on the last words and Conor shuts his eyes briefly, controlling his own emotions before placing his hand on the stone. It lifts, and I notice the effort it takes him.
"My powers are not as strong here in Hell," Conor says, his forehead breaking out in a sweat. I place my hand on his shoulder, the gesture one of understanding. He doesn't need to explain himself to me. I can tell he is doing the best he can. I lean down again.
"Can you crawl now, Gwen?" I call out.
"I won't leave her," Gwenyth says firmly, the tears gone, replaced now by something more. I search her emotions. There's shock there and denial. Determination.
I glance at Conor. He's focused completely on the stone, and I know no matter how much he tires, he won't let go.
"Can you pull her with you?" I ask Gwenyth.
There's a scraping sound as she moves.
"I think so," she says finally.
I take a deep breath. "You gotta try, Gwen. You gotta try."
There is more movement, and I glance through the crawlspace. I'm relieved to see she's moving forward, slowly but with a determination I've never felt in her before.
"She's going to be okay," Gwenyth says, the words spoken under her breath, but I hear them and my heart breaks.
"Keep coming," I say. "You're doing great."
I have to fight not to let my words crack from emotion. It's funny how often the heart can deceive itself. I don't want to believe Hesther is dead. I don't want to believe that Gwenyth has lost her sister. And I know that believing Hesther is okay is the only way Gwenyth will survive.
Gwenyth is close enough I can see her face now, streaked with blood, tears, and dust. Below and slightly to the side of her is her sister. She doesn't move.
I sit up quickly, my h
and against my mouth. The sob is silenced by my palm, and I shake my head at Conor. He swears under his breath.
Gray is suddenly on the other side of me, his hand landing on my shoulder. I look him over.
"Lyre helped me," he explains. "Bruno has Fiona, and they can hear Deidra. We'll have her out soon too."
I nod, too choked up to do anything else.
"Gwenyth," Gray asks.
I nod again.
"Hesther?"
I shake my head, a tear falling over my hand. Gray's eyes dull, his jaw tightening. Together, we kneel again.
"Emma?" Gwenyth calls out.
"I'm here," I say quickly.
Gray slides onto his stomach, his hand going under the rubble.
"Gwenyth, it's Gray. Grab my hand, and I will pull you free."
Gwenyth doesn't answer, and I look through the space to see her looking over at her sister. Hesther is so still, so very, very still. I can't see her face. Only her red hair.
"I won't leave her," Gwenyth says stubbornly.
I can feel emotions at my back, and I lean up to see Bruno behind me, Lyre next to him. Fiona is supporting Deidra who is favoring her leg. Conor's face is tense, strained.
"It needs to be soon," Conor says, and I look down at Gray.
Gray nods before reaching farther into the space.
"You don't have to leave her, Gwen. I'll get her out. Trust me."
Gwenyth doesn't say another word. She is still, her emotions a mix of uncertainty, sorrow, and fear. They hit me hard, tearing my heart in two, and I lean next to Gray.
"Oh, God!" I breathe quietly.
Ace groans from behind the group, and I know he feels my grief. I send calm thoughts his way, and he grows quiet. Gwenyth is sobbing now, and I look back at Ace, an idea forming in my head, before laying on the floor next to Gray.
"Maybe I can help," I whisper.
Gray is still reaching into the ruins, his jaw tight, and he doesn't answer. I've never tried to calm anyone other than Ace before, and I'm not exactly sure how it works, but I breathe deeply and project anyway. My emotions are nowhere near calm, but my thoughts are, and I use them to aid Gwenyth, whispering to her emotions.
"It's going to be okay. Try. Pull through. Calm down. Breathe.”
Gwenyth stills, her sobs quieter and Gray breathes a sigh of relief.
"I have her hand," he announces. He tugs, pulling first Gwenyth's head through the opening and then her body. She is bloody and her face is wet with tears. She falls into Gray's arms, and he holds her against his chest as Bruno takes his place at the hole, reaching in.
Bruno looks up and shakes his head.
"She's too far."
Gwenyth is pounding Gray with her fists now, but he holds her tight, refusing to let her go.
"No!" she cries.
"I'm small enough," a quiet voice says, and we all pause, even Gwenyth.
Deidra limps to the opening, her eyes wide. "I can get her," she insists.
I begin to shake my head, but Deidra's eyes narrow.
"I'm strong enough. I am. I can pull her to the opening at least."
"Please," Gwenyth begs, and Deidra falls to her knees. No one stops her.
Bruno grabs Deidra by the waist as she moves through the space, his hands sliding from her hips to her knees as she scoots into the rubble. I look at Conor, but he is stoic, silent, his concentration unbroken. Somehow, he manages to lift the stone even higher than he already has it, and I have to fight not to touch him. There is nothing I can do to help him.
"I have her," Deidra calls.
There is the faint dragging sound of bodies sliding along stone, and Bruno helps pull Deidra out, his muscles straining as Deidra reappears. She doesn't have Hesther in her grip, but I can see her hair through the opening, and I know she's done enough.
Bruno releases Deidra, and the imp moves backward, her eyes wide, her mouth hanging. I know from her expression that Hesther is in bad shape.
Bruno leans into the space, tugging the limp Hesther into his embrace, pulling her free just as Conor's control slips. The cavern ceiling meets the floor with a roar. We are closed in, trapped. Even if we want to turn back, we can't now.
"Bruno," Conor says quietly, but the large hybrid is still, his gaze on Hesther's face, his jaw tight. I notice the brightness in his eyes before I notice anything else.
"Gray," Bruno warns, and Gray tightens his arms around Gwenyth as Bruno shakes his head.
Gwenyth starts screaming, the wail hollow, the sound echoing along the cave. The daughters of Onoskelis have the ability to create echoes even in places they normally wouldn't be, and her grief causes them now. The natural echoes in the cavern are amplified, the grief wrapping us all in a wall of sound. There is nothing even I can do to calm her now.
Bruno lays Hesther gently on the cavern floor, and I see her face for the first time. She looks peaceful, her eyes open.
I sob, the sound lost in Gwenyth's wails. Arms go around me, and I know they're Conor's even before my cheek is against his chest.
"Heal her!" Gwenyth says suddenly, and I know she's talking to me.
Even with Enepsigo's powers, I know Hesther is beyond my help. Tears crowd my eyes.
"Heal her!" Gwenyth yells.
"Gwenyth," Conor says calmly, but she fights her way out of Gray's grip and runs to me, her hand tugging desperately on my arms. Conor doesn't let go. My sobs are quiet but they rock me unmercifully.
"HEAL her!" Gwenyth insists.
I shake my head against Conor's chest. There is no way to heal death. Conor's grip tightens.
"Gwenyth . . . she's gone," Conor says softly.
The redhead stands there, her eyes blank, her gaze on my back.
"No," Gwenyth whispers. "No, she's going to be okay."
"Gwenyth," Bruno says, his own voice cracking with emotion. "She's not breathing."
His words are like a slap in the face, and I can hear Fiona's and Deidra's sobs from behind me. Lyre's sobs are quieter, but I feel them even if I can't see them. Gwenyth is strangely still, unmoving, her eyes glassy.
"No," she whispers.
I pull away from Conor's chest just enough to see Gray take Gwenyth back into his arms again as Bruno kneels, his fingers gently closing Hesther's eyes. She looks like she's sleeping.
"Have any of you ever done . . . " Bruno begins.
Fiona interrupts him. "I have."
Conor's breath is next to my ear now.
"They're talking about death magic, Em," he whispers. "It's magic that will return Hesther to her family."
I squeeze my eyes shut, letting the blood-tinged tears roll down my cheeks.
"I'll need help," Fiona says. "Emma, Bruno, . . . Lyre."
Conor's embrace loosens, and I push away from him slowly, moving to join Bruno and Lyre next to Hesther's body. I can't look down at her so I look at the other hybrids instead. Behind Lyre, Gray is still holding Gwenyth who is limp and unseeing. I feel nothing from her but coldness and heartache.
Fiona kneels, one hand splayed just above the body. Lyre and Bruno each move to place a hand on my shoulder, and I suddenly know what they want me to do. I absorb their power, their emotions, and I direct it at Fiona, giving her enough strength she can do the death magic.
The cavern is suddenly bright, too bright as electricity moves in brilliant blue lines along Hesther's figure and then . . . nothing. The light explodes, making us all shade our eyes, and when it's gone, so is Hesther.
The grief is too much, Gwenyth's grief, the other hybrids. I keep seeing Hesther's flirtatious smile, images of Gwenyth painting Hesther's toe nails, the two of them embracing when they thought the other was safe. I fall to my knees in the space that once held Hesther's body. Bruno goes down on one knee next to me.
"We need to keep moving," he says.
"I don't want to do this anymore," Gwenyth says abruptly, her face hard. She's in shock, there's no doubt, and there is anger in her voice. Gray doesn't let her go.
Bruno's gaze moves to Gwenyth. "Then it would be for nothing, Gwen. We'll do this for Hesther now."
My head falls forward, and I choke back the tears I want so badly to cry. Ace keens quietly, and I let him take some of the grief. Conor is suddenly there, kneeling on my other side, his eyes on Gwenyth.
"We need to go," Conor says, his words mimicking Bruno's.
I stand because I know he's right. My eyes move to Gwenyth. She doesn't meet my gaze. She doesn't meet anyone's gaze. Fiona moves to her side, helping Gray as we all gather in the undamaged part of the cavern. There are no words.
The darkness before us beckons, and we start to move forward. Bruno, Gray and Fiona with Gwenyth, Lyre, Deidra, Conor, and me with Ace at my back. Hesther's absence is a big gaping hole among us. Haunting. Wrong.
Chapter 20
Conor
Hesther's death is like a shroud hanging heavy over our heads. We move forward, but we do it slowly, almost dejectedly. We continue mainly because we can't turn back, but we also continue because it would seem wrong not to now.
There are sobs from my right, and I know Gwenyth's tears are still falling. Her emotions are chaotic, and I let my gaze move to Emma. The rest of us can look at Gwenyth and see the grief, the shock, and the denial she is battling, but Emma feels it, experiences it with her.
Part of Emma's face is covered in scraped skin. It's beginning to heal, but the blood and the dirt remain. I lean forward.
"Are you okay?" I whisper next to her ear.
Emma doesn't look up. She just nods, her face tight, drawn. She looks toward the other hybrids, and my gaze follows hers. Gray and Fiona are still supporting Gwenyth between them, their faces an expressive battle of sympathy and sorrow. Bruno stands tall, his shoulders back, his head held high. Lyre walks beside him, her face blank, and Deidra steps soundlessly next to Emma. The imp is quiet, her dark face stained with silent tears. I don't look back at the drex.
The hybrids continually surprise me. They are more human than I want to admit. They are rough around the edges, but rough I can understand. Rough, like a serrated knife, cuts. It leaves scars. Rough people feel more than most, are passionate, angry, and determined. In many ways, I am like them.