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“What the fuck is that?” Jack murmured.
Creatures were amassing beyond the Veil. There were hundreds of them, the assortment of eyes all glowing red like rubies as they crept closer. Among them were humanoid beings, shadowy figures that traveled in a black fog way off in the distance, their silhouettes barely visible from here, even with a hellseher’s sight.
Darien didn’t want to know what those were.
What chilled his blood worse than the demons were the odds of getting past them. Not him, but Loren. If she had enough time to get back to this gate, she would need to get through all those demons, a potentially greater obstacle than the race against time.
“What do we do?” Lace whispered. When he didn’t answer, she prodded gently, “Darien?”
Everyone was staring at him. Looking at him for the answer. For instructions.
“Don’t let them through,” he said. “Whatever you do, do not let a single one get past you.” He turned to face the Devils. The Angels. His friends. “If we let them through, Angelthene will fall.”
He drew a gun of his own this time, knowing full well that it would do shit against most—if not all—of the creatures that were approaching. But he would exhaust every weapon in the area until…
Wait a minute.
Darien holstered his gun again. He spun around and hurried over to the tables, where the boxes of ammunition—the bullets that were filled with aura magic—were stacked in black crates. Grabbing one of the unmarked boxes that contained bullets of all different shades, he stalked up to one of the imperator’s dead men.
He pried the gun out of the man’s stiff grip and hoisted it up, teaching himself how the weapon worked as quickly as he could. The location and type of trigger the firearm had, where the safety was located, how it felt in his grip. It was a heavy thing, and it took him a second to find the cartridge. When he did, he snapped it open and quickly filled up the remaining slots with bullets from the box he’d grabbed, making sure there was at least one of every color before he slapped it shut and discarded the empty box on the floor.
When he was finished, he motioned for his family and friends to come closer. “These bullets contain aura magic. You can switch between the colors here.” He showed them the latch on the gun—a bolt that allowed for switching between bullets, the magic visible through the glass casing. “See? Understand?”
He was met with murmurs and nods, a few of them uncertain and fearful, but he knew these people better than anyone. They would never back down when presented with a challenge. Roark and the Fleet might be guarding the city at the posts around Angelthene, but these people right here were better than any army.
Darien waved a hand at the dead bodies lying around them, weapons discarded on the ground, a few still frozen in dead hands. “Grab one and get ready.”
He’d barely finished speaking before a head-splitting growl that curdled his blood ripped through the air, the sound coming from somewhere within Spirit Terra, not far from this gate.
Another demon like the one at Angelthene Academy. Just like the one he’d struggled to kill at the carnival.
The others were moving, following his instructions without delay, grabbing weapons and filling cartridges with aura ammunition.
Time was running out. Not just for them, but also for Loren, who Darien still couldn’t spot in that gods-awful realm.
With the Blood Moon emitting its hunting call, and the demons approaching the gate into their world, Darien wasn’t sure whose clock would run out faster.
70
In the Bright Penthouse, the whole place dark save a couple lamps Roark and Taega had left on, Max and the others dug around through drawers and cupboards, searching for the second Moonstone.
Max moved quickly. He lifted up furniture and threw aside cushions, utilizing his Sight the whole time to see if there was anything hiding under floorboards or behind the many expensive paintings adorning the walls. They’d hoped Roark or Taega would be here when they arrived, but they’d had no such luck, the general of Angelthene’s Aerial Fleet currently stationed at one of the posts around the perimeter of the city, designed for use should the forcefield fail during a night like tonight. As for Taega, Max assumed she was with her husband.
Far too much time was passing, and they couldn’t find the stone.
Outside, through the floor-to-ceiling windows that spanned the south wall of the living room, Max could see the last of the Fleet soldiers heading to their posts. They streaked by in a sky void of stars, white wings gleaming, various weapons—guns, blades, crossbows—glimmering at their sides. The Blood Moon was high, a full sphere bathing the whole city in a supernatural, carmine light.
Dallas rushed up to him, sneakers slapping on the floors, wings rustling. “I checked the safe,” she panted. “There’s nothing in there, I can’t find it!”
Dominic, Blue, and Cyra joined them, all three looking as defeated as Max and Dallas.
“No luck,” Dominic said. “Do you think Roark has it on him?”
Before anyone could reply, a voice cut through the room. “I wasn’t aware that we were making a habit of meeting in my house when the city is under attack.”
Max turned to see Taega standing in the open doorway, arms crossed, wings rustling with irritation.
Dallas took a wary step forward. “Mom, please. We know that you and dad have the other Moonstone. We need it. Please.”
