So does Jude.
“We have more than one way to get in.” I liftthe sleeve of my hoodie, turn on my phone’s flashlight, and shine it on the inside of my wrist. Twig, Naomi, and Harper see nothing.
But Jude?
He stands from the sofa, takes my arm in his hands, and runs his thumb along the pattern of glowing dots. He looks up at me then, so close my breath catches.
“Pisces.”
With a nod, I take a step back. “It can open a rift just like Lainey’s.” I pull my sleeve down. “You were right,” I tell him. “Those visions I had? They weren’t from my mom.”
He never trusted them. He always suspected the creature was sent by an adversary. Jude was wrong about the adversary being Rafe, but he was spot on about the malevolent intent. I tell them about the creature in Vorat’s lair, its nest under my mother’s tomb.
“It was Vorat,” I say. “He’s been trying to lure me in this whole time. And now, I have a way to get to him.”
I brace myself for the next logical question—why would Vorat try to lureme, specifically? Jude isn’t going to like the answer. But Naomi goes in a different, slightly exasperated direction.
“Okay, great.” She claps her hands against her knees. “We have a way in. But isn’t Vorat basicallythe Godfather of the Overlay, with a pack of hounds and a web of souls to draw power from?”
“It’s like a war zone,” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else. Rafe said as much. I think about the vision I had last night in a dream, before I was distracted by the tomb and the creature. Those terrifying monster birds were circling. Four of them attacked. “Right now, Vorat is the strongest. But he has enemies. Lots of them. They want to take him out, but they can’t because he’s too powerful.”
“Then what chance do we possibly have?” Naomi asks.
“A good one,” I say, clarity settling into place. “His enemies aren’t tactical. They’re just relying on instinct.”
I look at Twig.
I can tell he’s following my train of thought.
“He’s Godfather of the Overlay because of his hounds, because of the souls he’s drawing power from.”
“So if we cut off his power source,” Twig says.
“And kill his hounds,” I add.
“He’d no longer have the upper hand,” Twig finishes.
The two of us look at one another—partners in crime, pursuers of the supernatural, ready to takeon an entire world of it. Meanwhile, Harper releases a high-pitched, slightly hysterical laugh.
“The question is, how do we cut off his power source?” I resume my pacing, picturing them around the pond—Emma, Sienna, Brady, Caleb, Lola, Ivy, and Juniper. All of them ensnared in vines. Delicate, blood-red vines. The same kind that wrapped around my finger and lacerated my skin. “They recoil in the presence of fire.”
“What does?” Naomi asks.
“The plant that gave me this.” I show them my arm again, the lacerations nobody can see but Jude. “Mistress Bramble called it veil root. It’s the same thing that has hold of the hostages.”
I rub my chest, remembering the way it slithered inside my veins and grabbed my heart. But then Mistress Bramble lit it on fire and the plant recoiled.
I come to a sudden stop. “We need blowtorches.”
Naomi scoffs. “We don’t have blowtorches.”
“My dad does,” Twig says. “He has them in his shop.”
“Okay.” Naomi draws out the word as though trying to inject some reason into a very unreasonable conversation. “And then what? Vorat isn’t going to stand aside and let us use them on his prisoners.”
“Of course not. We’ll have to lure him away.”
“How are we supposed to do that?” Naomi asks.
