The creature moved. Dee flinched, sure it would rise to its feet and come after them.
But its fingers only opened, dropping the inhuman leg to the ground. Then its arm lifted and a finger—too thick, made of tens of dozens of fingers sewn together—pointed at something.
Dee looked over her shoulder.
At the center of the void was a shimmer of light. It must have been the door to—to wherever this place led to. The other side. Another world. Heaven. Hell. She didn’t know.
“Come on,” shouted Cora. “We’ve got to get the duffel bag to the center of the void.”
James nodded. Dee relinquished the duffel bag to him and took several steps back. Her gaze was still on the cobbled-together clutter of body parts. It stared back at her.
Dee looked away, forcing her attention toward James. He had the duffel bag open, and he knelt beside it. In his hand was what looked like a remote control with a wire attached, and he fumbled with it. He twisted something, and his mouth pulled tight. When he looked up and saw Dee, his eyes were hard. He caught her by the arm, nodded.
“Twenty seconds,” he shouted, and she understood. They had twenty seconds to get out before the void would implode—taking all of them with it. He started to move, but then skidded to a halt, his mouth gaping wide. “What the—”
Cora slammed into him, but she did not seem to notice; her own attention was finally on the giant, too.
Twenty seconds. There was no time for this. James’s fingers were tight on Dee’s wrist and she shook him, trying to jolt him back to the moment. He blinked, gaze snapping to her. “Come on,” she said, the wind tearing the words from her mouth. She wasn’t sure he heard, but he seemed to understand. He took a step, and then another, still holding on to Dee with one hand and with his other he reached out and grabbed Cora’s elbow.
And then they were running. Cora was making little sounds on every exhale, a whine in her throat. Dee’s attention was yanked back to the hulking creature. It was still on the ground, like some half-fallen statue from ages past. Only it watched them, gaze following the three teenagers as they sprinted toward the mouth of the void.
Dee tried to count the seconds as they ran, but she couldn’t tell how much time was passing. It felt like moments were slipping by too quickly.
Then they were at the mouth of the void and Cal was gesturing them through.
Cool air brushed across her face and arms, and Dee gasped, the night air like a knife in her lungs.
They were out.
Out.
Dee tripped and Cora fell, slamming into the grass. James leaned on his own knees, a man trying to catch his breath after a long run. Cal yanked himself free of the void, staggering back.
Dee glanced over her shoulder; sure enough, not five seconds after they emerged from the void, it began to collapse in on itself.
They’d done it.
But there was none of the victory of the last time they had closed a void; rather, a grim silence settled over the group.
The female demon stood over Dee, staring down at her as if she were vermin. Dee scrambled back, tripping over her own feet in her haste to get away. She half expected James or Cal to step in front of her, to take up the role of amateur bodyguards like they had done in the past.
But it was not one of the heartless teenagers who put himself between Dee and the demon.
The Agathodaemon stood there. From what Dee could see of his face, his beautiful features were hard. His umbrella, which was always tucked carelessly beneath his arm, was in his left hand. He held himself loosely, and it put Dee in mind of the fencers she had seen when she passed by a gym at Brannigan—legs spread apart, ready to lunge.
Did demons fight demons? She did not know.
“You will let them be,” said the Daemon very quietly. “They are not yours.”
“They left my servant behind,” the female demon snarled. “Do you know how many years it took to build that homunculus? No, of course you wouldn’t.” Her face twisted in a sneer. “Heart-Monger.”
“Better a monger than a cobbler,” replied the Daemon. “And at least I give back what I take.”
The female demon’s gaze slid past him, to Dee and the others. “Your servants are weak.”
“And yet they can hold a conversation,” replied the Daemon, “whereas yours… well, it’s difficult to do such a thing without a mouth.”
The demon rounded on him. “There is too much at stake to rely on inferior models. How would your servants do up against a burrower?”
