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Darien raised a brow. “And bringing more people is somehow going to lessen that assumption?”
It was Tanner who said, “Bringing two girls who are not only young but also seemingly unthreatening might.”
Jack said, “Yippee, babysitting.” The comment earned him a glare from Dallas.
Loren looked at Darien again, and she saw that his attention was already on her. “We’ll talk about it later,” he repeated. But the tone in his voice told her they’d already won.
The House of Souls was on the schedule for that night, and she knew she would spend her whole shift digesting the fact that she would soon be inside the home of Malakai Delaney, the leader of the second most powerful Darkslayer house in Angelthene.
15
The trip to the House of Souls was quiet and tense. Loren was in the back seat of Darien’s car with Dallas and Tanner, Maximus in the passenger’s seat. Behind them, riding with Travis in his car, were Lace, Ivyana, and Jack. Loren imagined it was just as quiet and tense in their vehicle as it was in Darien’s.
Resting her head against the cool glass of her window, she watched the streetlights and palm trees pass by in blurs. Far above the city, the forcefield shimmered, a faint green that was only visible to the mortal eye from certain angles. It tinted the canvas of stars behind it, making the sky look like it was flecked with shattered emeralds instead of diamonds.
By the time the car turned into an old neighborhood across from Angelthene City Cemetery, Loren was fighting to keep her eyes open. They were so dry, she could hear her lids blinking.
The neighborhood was located in the western side of Oldtown, not far from Angelthene International Airport. Every house in the area was large and impressive, the grid of tree-lined streets adorned with beds of succulents and black roses. Thick blankets of creeping ivy covered faded red-brick walls, the five-pointed leaves nearly swallowing up the gold address plaques that were nailed to the brick. The streetlamps here were elaborately curling decorations, rose garlands and angelic beings molded into the cast iron posts. The bulbs were round and made of white glass, the light they emitted mimicking moonbeams.
Loren glanced at Dallas, who looked just as awake and alert as the Devils. Surprising, considering hellsehers could survive on less sleep than humans, veneficae, and werewolves.
“How are you not tired?” Loren whispered.
Dallas fidgeted, her attention fixed on the view through the windshield. “I had a lot of coffee.”
Loren’s phone buzzed in her back pocket. She lifted herself up and checked the message.
Be at the gates in one hour.
She frowned. She didn’t recognize the number.
With a swipe of her thumb, she deleted the message and slid her phone back in her pocket.
Darien pulled into a parking stall several houses down, where the car would be hidden from view, should anyone decide to look out the windows in the House of Souls. Most of those windows were aglow with buttery light that spilled out onto the lawn, but aside from this, there was no other sign of life in the neighborhood. The other houses were dark and quiet, and combined with the location of the cemetery, the area held an eeriness that made a person not want to speak too loudly.
Loren watched in silence as the Devils prepared their weapons. The whole situation teleported her back in time to Cain’s neighborhood, and for one dizzying minute, she couldn’t distinguish between the two. The only thing lacking here was a chained storm-drain demon growling like a dog on the front lawn.
She really didn’t miss that memory.
The leather of Darien’s seat groaned as he turned around to look at her. “You sure you don’t want to wait here?”
Dallas replied before she could speak. “Yeah, we’re sure, Darien. We didn’t come all this way for nothing.”
Leaning over Loren, the witch hit the unlock button on the door and pulled on the handle. A cool breeze slipped through the cracked-open door, and even though Loren was wearing high-rise jeans, a knitted cardigan overtop of a white tank top, and her thickest pair of socks in white sneakers, goosebumps prickled across her skin.
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Darien muttered.
Loren unbuckled her seatbelt and got out before Dallas could roll her onto the ground.
Lace, Ivy, Jack, and Travis were waiting on the sidewalk, talking quietly among themselves as they slid guns into holsters and knives into sheaths. A Hunger Moon washed them all in silver, and owls hooted in the cemetery across the street.
Ivy was snorting a line of Stygian salts off Jack’s forearm, her nostril pinched shut by the sharp black nail of her index finger. Jack held his arm steady, a smile playing on his lips. His eyes were heavy with the kind of affection that made Loren feel like she shouldn’t be watching.
“Besides,” Dallas called over her shoulder to Darien as she got out of the car, flip-flops snapping against her heels. “You said yourself that you agree it’ll feel less like an ambush this way.”
Darien got out, followed by Max and Tanner. Doors slammed as they closed in unison, and spells rippled over the car.
The leader of the Devils had eyes only for Loren when he spoke. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” He looked everyone over, and he must’ve decided that they were ready, because he nodded once and gestured to the house up ahead. “Let’s go.”
