Page 105 of Spirit Storm

"It is." I step back and invite him to join me. "Have a seat. I'll catch you up."

We settle at the dining room table, and I tell him everything that's been going on. By the time I finish, his face has moved through several expressions I don't have names for.

"I've never heard of the Descendants of the Nine."

"Neither had I. Apparently, they're like this Illuminati group of spirit witches, and they kept the information on Tharuzel's master's prison super-secret. It's been Tharuzel's plan all along."

"And that's why he forced you into the blood contract."

"Yeah, so he could bind me to him and use me to get the locations of the lockstone chambers."

"Because you're descended from the Key."

"Yep."

"And the only thing keeping this super demon from breaking free is Asher's magic shielding the remaining lockstones."

"Yep, but that's only a stopgap. We need to repair the other lockstones, reinstate the warding spell, and send Tharuzel back to hell."

There's a beat of silence as he stares at me, then he nods. "Is that all?"

"And I need your help," I say. "Not to be dramatic, but the world as we know it needs your help."

He lets out a long sigh. "Well, yeah, let's not be dramatic."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Two days later, Asher, Wylder, Sebastian, and I are back at the Bahamian sea cave, ready and determined to get ahead of Tharuzel once and for all. I sent Wylder to Arcana last night to check on Mica, and he said she's close.

I didn't want to point out that she's been saying that all week, but so far, we don't have any weapons in our hands to send demons back to Hell.

Or maybe I'm being too impatient, and I need to put more faith in the process of everything happening as it's meant to.

Khylie meets us outside the entrance to the Bahamian sea cave, standing with two people I don't know. They seem anxious, which is perfectly understandable, and given who I am, I'm not sure if my arrival will make them feel better or worse about coming.

The first is a tall woman in her mid-forties with close-cropped silver-blue hair and dark brown skin, wearing a linen shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. Her name is Amara, and she flew in from Lagos yesterday.

The second is a man of about fifty, slight and quiet, with silver-streaked temples and wire-rimmed glasses. He introduces himself as Dae-Jung, from Seoul, with a handshake that's firm and brief. He doesn't say much after that.

He doesn't need to. There's a weight behind his eyes that tells me he's already read everything Freya sent him and is fully aware of the dire circumstances which brought him here.

Freya is waiting for us further inside the entrance with three more. A young woman named Priya, maybe twenty-three, with silver-blue hair in a braid, and nervous hands she can't quite keep still. She's from Manchester and she keeps glancing at the cave walls like she's cataloging every detail.

Then there's Nolan from New Orleans. He's older, maybe sixty, and broad through the chest. He has a scar along his jaw and the unhurried manner of someone who's already survived things that would stop a lesser person cold.

And lastly, stands a guy who steals my breath.

Henrik.

My mind stumbles over the impossibility of that, but there's no way anyone looking at him could miss his resemblance to Henrik.

My heart thunders in my chest. "How is that possible?"

"Bjorn is his twin brother," Freya whispers quietly to me. "I didn't think he'd come, otherwise, I would have warned you. In the end, he's decided that if his brother died committed to helping us, then he will ensure that Henrik’s last wish is carried out."

I swallow against the lump of emotion in my throat, and blink against the sting behind my eyes. "That's amazing."

"Aye, I thought so too."