After the book on the Ancient Reunerian language had teleported itself back to the academy library, Darien had entrusted Arthur with deciphering the riddle in their piece of the Dominus Volumen. He’d trusted the weapons technician would be able to figure out what the Well was made of, and it seemed Darien was right in assigning this task to him.
Darien said, “What answer did you find?”
“It ischaos,”Arthur said. They both blinked and shared another look. “The Creature of the Gods.”
“I don’t understand,” Loren muttered. “What does that mean?”
“Its proper name isprima materia,”Arthur said. “It’s the formless matter supposed to have existed before the creation of the universe. It is the base material for all creation.”
“It…” Loren’s mind was reeling. And then she sputtered, “It doesn’texist?”
Darien was staring at her, looking as confused as she felt.
“Itdoesexist, Miss Calla,” Arthur said. “Though it isn’t a tangible thing. Some texts have described it as a fifth substance in addition to the four elements, thought to be latent in all things.”
Darien said, “How would a person go about obtaining something like that?”
“The prima materia is primitive and mysterious; there is a reason it’s called theCreature of the Gods. Some things are not for our realm to tamper with.”
“But figuratively speaking…,” Darien persisted, “if someone wanted it, how might they go about finding it?” If the Well was made of prima materia—a substance latent in all things—there was no way he would be able to pinpoint its presence, which was exactly what that warlock had told Darien last night. It seemed he hadn’t been lying after all.
Because the prima materia had been used to create the universe—used to createeverything. Which meant a hellseher gifted with the Sight would be able to feel iteverywhere,not just where the Well was hidden. Tracking something like that would only make a person blind, for the prima materia was in the ground and the sky; in the buildings and the cars; in the river and the rolling desert beyond the forcefield.
They’d answered the riddle—yet they were no closer to solving this case. And this magical tracking ability everyone thought she had… There was no way. She’d never felt any hint of its existence, never experienced anything in her life to suggest she would be able to do such a thing. When she lay awake at night in her suite at Hell’s Gate, she sometimes tried to call upon it, to reach deep into herself and see if she could find something that might explain all these rumors floating about the streets. But she was only ever met with vast emptiness, and the compulsion to simply give up and retreat into herself, even during the few times when she’d asked Darien if he could help her—if he could give her any pointers about tracking and see if they could find the Well on their own.
But nothing beyond the ordinary had ever happened. Nothing.
Darien answered his own question before Arthur had a chance to speak. “They would have to go to a higher power,” he murmured. His eyes found Loren’s.
Understanding settled in her gut like a heavy stone. A god—or one of the Nameless. Greater creatures of mystery and power that might’ve granted someone like Erasmus Sophronia and the Phoenix Head Society access to the formless matter. A creature of the Crossroads that had the ability to grant wishes if the person on the asking end had enough to offer for the wish.
Arthur looked pleased with Darien’s conclusion as he returned to cleaning up. “That is exactly right, Darien.”
Darien jumped off the metal table and strode to where Loren was perched on the edge of a chair. For someone who’d just gotten shot, he didn’t show a hint of pain as he placed two fingers beneath her chin and tilted up her head until she was looking at him.
His eyes were soft with what she thought was guilt as he mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
Loren took the hand that was beneath her chin into one of her own, lacing her fingers with his. “We have to talk to one of them,” she whispered. She knew Darien was aware of exactly who she was referring to as his eyes clouded over, his mouth pulling down at one corner. She didn’t like this idea either, but it might be their only chance at getting to the bottom of this.
The creatures of the Crossroads were dangerous, wicked things. A person couldn’t just stroll right into their dens without having set a plan beforehand—and without knowing exactly what information they were asking for and what they were willing to pay to get it. And if the creature considered your offer unworthy, you might never walk out of their lair again.
When Arthur was finished cleaning up, he looked Loren over, taking note of the hand that was entwined with Darien’s, and said to the slayer, “Best be finding another talisman soon.” Something about Loren sitting before Darien with her hand in his, and Darien gazing down at her the way that he was, had the old man smiling as he dried his hands with paper towel.
“That was my fault,” Darien sighed.
“It isn’t anybody’s fault,” Arthur corrected. “Just find another one.” From the look on Darien’s face, Loren knew she wasn’t the only one who liked that answer.
It wasn’t anybody’s fault. The only thing that mattered now was stopping it from happening again.
—
Loren had fallen asleep in her suite two hours ago at Hell’s Gate, but something woke her at Witching Hour. She tossed and turned for several minutes before deciding to go downstairs for a glass of water.
When she swung around the corner and into the kitchen, she discovered everyone else in the house was awake, too. All seven Devils were either standing or sitting in a group around the kitchen island, engrossed in a conversation she was seconds from interrupting.
Darien was the one who looked at her first. The stress lining his face had her slowing.
“What’s the matter?”
