For a long time, no one said anything.
And then Christa Copenspire stood on her tiptoes and said into the camera, “I know you guys have little reason to trust me right now, but there’s something I think you should know—about the Arcanum Well.” Her breath was coming fast, showing pale in the air that was unseasonably cold for a place like Angelthene, even on the last day of Decem.“Please.Darien, if you guys don’t listen to me, the entire city will be destroyed. I’mbeggingyou… Just give me a few minutes of your time.”
Darien stepped up to the screen and jammed a finger onto the intercom button. “You can tell me from there,” he said in a hard voice. “And then you can get the hell off my property.”
Christa’s porcelain throat visibly bobbed. “The Well has become a weapon. A bomb—and if it blows, this entire city and everyone in it will burn.”
—
Darien stared at the surveillance screen—at the girl standing on his doorstep. The girl he’d once stupidly believed gave two shits about him.
Everyone in the kitchen was waiting in silence.
Loren was the first to speak. “Randal tried to force my aura into the Well. He tried to make me operate it. The Widow said when my father hid the original Well, he made sure no one could ever recreate it. That all replicas would be cursed.”
Another minute passed as Darien thought about it in silence. He looked at Loren the whole time, and she looked back at him.
And then he pushed away from the counter and strode to the front door, boots pounding loudly on the floors. He unlocked it and swung it open.
Christa was halfway down the steps, her back to him. The fall of coal-dark hair that fell to her waist caught the moonlight as she looked over her shoulder at him. She froze, blinking several times, though she made no move to come any closer.
Darien’s face betrayed nothing as he opened the door wider and stepped aside to allow her in. She ducked her head as she clomped back up the stairs and entered the house, the tip of her nose pink from the bite in the air. Darien slammed the door and strode into the kitchen. Christa trailed behind him, the stiletto heels of her leather boots clicking on the floor.
Darien crossed his arms over his chest and turned around to face her. “Explain.”
Christa’s eyes flicked about the room, lingering the longest on Loren, who stiffened a little under the brunette’s gaze. Whatever Christa was thinking, she—wisely—didn’t say it. And when she spoke, there was only a slight tremor in her voice.
“When Randal tried to force Loren’s aura into the Well, it must’ve activated a new magic—a self-destructive kind. Shortly after you guys left, the power waves that started coming off it activated the grenades he had in the tunnels. The protection spells he has underground managed to shield the blast from hitting the streets, but it blew up the tunnel walls. He had other demons—other failed experiments there.” She drew a long, shaky breath. “They got loose.”
“Fuck.” Darien started pacing.
“The Kalendae celebrations begin in an hour,” Ivyana said. Which meant those demons would soon be enjoying a blood-and-flesh buffet.
“The antidote,” Loren said. She was perched on the edge of her barstool, her hands clasped between her knees. Her eyes were fogged over as she thought through whatever idea had just crossed her mind. When she spoke again, her eyes found Darien’s. “We need to get it as soon as we can from Doctor Atlas.”
“We would have to catch all the demons,” Lace cut in, clicking her long, sharp nails on the quartz countertop. “And we’d need a shit-tonne of antidote for them all.”
“It would take too long,” Logan said. He was right. There were eight million people in the city—far too many to handle in so little time.
“They’re also mutating,” Christa added. “The venom in their saliva has become more potent. It’s changing bitten people instantly. Literally withinseconds.”
“Which means,” Darien said, “there will soon be a hundred times the amount once they start attacking people in the streets.”
“Do we call for a citywide evacuation?” Tanner proposed.
“It would cause panic,” Arthur chimed in. It was the first thing he’d said all night. “Better to figure out how to quickly administer that antidote.”
Loren’s eyes lit up. “What about the Control Tower?”
Darien snapped his fingers. “You’re a genius, Lola.” He dug his phone out of his back pocket and scrolled through the contacts until he found the name he was looking for.
It was Dominic, massive black wings draped on the floor, who said, “Who are you calling?”
“Doctor Atlas,” Darien replied. “If she can cook up a large enough amount of the antidote in a granular substance, we should be able to get it up the Control Tower and plug it into the forcefield projection.”
“And it would heal everyone in the city,” Jude concluded, eyes glinting with admiration as he looked Loren over.
Darien nodded. “Exactly.”
