I move closer to the sound.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The breathing is louder than it should be, almost as though it’s being amplified by something.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
What the fuck is going on?I can still feel the vestiges of the death plane whirling around me, the power kissing my spirit and stirring warmth from within.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I step closer while I dig through my mind for a spell that’ll allow light. Maybe even fire.
Because fuck, it’s cold in here.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I murmur a phrase in the ancient tongue, one Issy taught me long ago.
It stirs a glimmer of light, one that floats around the small space before me.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
It’s a machine,I confirm, the glittery bulb swimming around it to reveal a pump-like instrument that’s pushing air into…
My eyes widen at the horrifying sight unfolding before me. The machine is meant to help someone breathe.
And that someone is… “Issy.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
KASPIAN
“We’re goingto need a portal spell,” I tell Cara, irritated that I can’t use one now to teleport back to Reykjavik. Alas, I have to drive. And this is not the time of year to speed.
Fucking snow.
Fucking magic.
Fucking everything.
“I’ll pass a message on to Slater via our normal channels, see if he can expedite the request,” she replies. “Unless Nolan already has one stashed away somewhere?”
“Not in an easily accessible place,” I mutter.
Nolan likes to hide things in elevated places.
The types of places only those with wings can reach. Normally, I would respect that. Right now, I’m annoyed. Because he’s in New York alone. With Fallon. And there’s nothing I can physically do yet to reach them.
“What else do you need?” Cara asks, all business.
“I need at least six mercenaries, preferably more, who are willing to join us in New York. They need to be experienced. And they need to be well versed in witches and warlocks.”
“On it,” Cara says. “I’ll call Talino, see if his grandsons are interested. Because if Eryx and Tallis are anything like their brother Khaos, you’re going to want them on your side.”
“He impressed you?” I guess.
“Hebestedme. Twice,” she tells me. “He’ll be useful to you in New York. Trust me.”
