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The massive black wall was like a river of souls. Skull-like faces with hollowed-out eyes and gaping mouths swam in the darkness, barely visible until flashes of green lightning illuminated their haunting features. There was no light in there. There was only evil.
Death.
Loren swallowed bile. “What do you want?”
“I need you to take down this veil, Calla,” the imperator said, stepping closer. “Take it down, and we won’t kill you or your friends.”
“This is the Void,” Loren said, gesturing with her bound hands to the realm that lay beyond the thick wall of shadow. “This is the Void, and if I open it—” Her voice stuck in her throat as she saw movement on the other side of the barrier.
Something was prowling the border. Sensing them. Waiting for the chance to strike.
More Shucca. Or perhaps something worse.
“Do it, Loren,” Johnathon said. “Lower it, and your Devils will be spared. You have our word.”
Loren’s mouth was dry, her heart a flurry of painful beats. If she could take this suit off, if she could use her magic—
“Don’t even think about it,” the imperator said, his cold gaze narrowing in on her right hand that was inching toward her left—toward the ring she only had to turn clockwise to take off. The imperator held up the trigger for the built-in taser. “Let your next move be a smart one, Miss Calla.” The threat was what she needed, because the imperator had just revealed to her that the trigger was on his person.
“Cut me free,” she said, gesturing to her tied hands. “Cut me free and I will do whatever you ask.” Swallowing, she added, “As long as you spare my friends.”
Johnathon took a knife out of his pocket, flipped it open, and cut through the rope around her wrists. Her ankles.
Kicking off the rope and pulling her hands free, Loren pushed to her feet and stepped up to the pillar. Blood rushed to her head, making it spin. There was a warm spot on her forearm that told her the tattoo was glowing. Blue, by the feel of it. Blue was better than red.
The closer she got to the pillar, the more horrible she felt, as if the whole thing was made of death. Her heartbeat began to slow, and her body felt hollow, as if all the life was being sucked out of her.
When she spoke to Singer down the Spirit Bond, she kept her face blank, her eyes empty of expression. They don’t know about you, buddy, she said.
At least, she hoped they didn’t. Prayed with all her might that they didn’t. But the imperator had been watching her for a long time, and when he wasn’t watching her, he’d had Johnathon watching her, glamoured as her father. Who knew what they had managed to find out? After all, it was probably how they’d discovered Erasmus was still alive. Watching her had given them plenty of answers.
But she refused to think about this, holding firmly onto the only spark of hope she had left, as she said to Singer, When I bring down this Veil, we need to run, but I need you to get that trigger from the imperator. Can you do that, buddy?
A phantom paw on her heart was all the answer she needed.
Loren closed her eyes and forced herself to focus. The moment she felt the subtlest of glows coming from her conduit, she splayed her fingers and slapped her hand onto the pillar.
Minutes passed. Around her, the imperator’s men began to murmur, asking each other questions, not understanding.
She didn’t understand either, but she focused, blocking out the sound of their voices, sweat beading on her forehead.
Magic poured out of her and into the stone, lighting it up. It was dim, and even though the veil rippled and began to thin, it did not come down entirely, just like last time. Something was missing, but—
The creatures on the other side…she could see them now. There were hundreds of them. Maybe even thousands. And the realm—the Void…it was filled with a writhing darkness that seemed tangible, the blackness utterly blinding, not a hint of light to be seen.
“It’s not working,” Johnathon said. “What’s missing?”
The creatures paced by the weakened barrier, testing its strength. Creatures that looked like partially decayed dogs and wolves that had crawled out of the grave, eyes glowing, mouths foaming. Bat-like creatures swarmed the dark sky, lighting it up with trails of green fire generated by pumps of membranous wings. There were horned monsters that stood on two legs, some on four.
All eyes were the deep red of mulberry. If these things got through the wall, they would be heading straight to their world to hunt. To feed.
Loren had just removed her hand from the pillar when the first creature—a hound with green fire rippling out of its mouth—leapt through.
Bullets containing white magic seared the air.
The thing fell in a burst of flames, dying with a final click of its jaws.
But a moment later, half a dozen others were coming through the veil, the strongest of them able to make it through the last of the magic protecting their group.
