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As we slipped under the cover of the rain-drenched leaves, I wondered just what the hell we were going to do now. We had an informant somewhere—it was the only way to explain that they knew we were coming. We had the Fae Queens on our back from both realms. And I knew that Stacia wouldn’t hesitate to come after us once she realized we’d survived the explosion.
I had no idea what we were going to do about any of it, but I knew one thing for sure: We’d find the Bonecrusher, and when we did, we’d rip her to shreds.
We arrived at the FH-CSI headquarters, soaked through and covered with mud and ash. Sharah was waiting for us. Delilah moved forward, her face a blank slate. Menolly and I flanked her sides.
“Chase . . .” Her voice was faint, her back rigid.
Sharah stared at her for a moment, then slowly said, “He’s in critical condition. I don’t know if he’ll make it. We’re doing everything we can.”
“No . . . no . . .” Delilah wavered and Menolly pressed her hand against her back, steadying her. “There has to be something you can do to help.”
I closed my eyes, not wanting to breathe, not wanting to speak. I knew the answer, but dreaded being the one to suggest it. But if it might help . . .
“I know what might heal his wounds. But it could destroy him in the long run,” I blurted out. Enough heartache for one night. If it could save him now, we’d deal with the future later.
“What is it? We can’t lose Chase. I can’t lose him!” Delilah grabbed me by the shoulders. “Tell me!”
I sucked in a deep breath. “You were going to have him drink the nectar of life. The potion will also heal extreme injuries. Without the proper rituals, it might also drive him mad in the long run, but it will save his life now.” Turning to Sharah, I asked, “Does he stand a chance otherwise?”
“There’s always a chance . . . but the odds are low . . .” Her voice trailed off and I saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes.>As he repeated the incantation over and over, I began to sing the counterpoint. “Walking death, wandering spirits, whispering souls, hear our command. Return to grave, shroud of death, whispering souls, you shall not stand.”
The energy built slowly but steadily, a wreath of violet fire that circled around us. I watched as it circled us, a network of pulses sparking like synapses in the brain. Morio and I kept up the counterpoint and the bubble of energy expanded out. The zombies were almost to the outer border of the circle when the closest gave a shriek as it reached out to pass through the twinkling lights. Within seconds, it fell to the ground and rotted away like a time lapse photo, the final ooze from the body soaking into the ground.
One down, a half dozen to go. Another zombie shuffled up and through the border and within seconds had turned into mere memory. The others paused. While they were soulless, almost automatons, they had some spark of self-preservation built into the magical code that brought them to life.
As they hesitated, Wilbur let out a grunt and a rolling wave of light crested over the zombies. With a unified shriek, they vanished, incinerated in whatever mother of a spell he’d cast. Morio and I stared at him, our own spell dropping as our concentration broke. What the fuck had he just done? More important, could we learn to do that?
He winked at us, then turned back to the fight that was going on between the others. The demons were down a man. And . . . oh Great Mother, help us, so were we. Chase was on the ground and he looked unconscious. Wrapped in the magic, I hadn’t even heard the scuffle.
I scanned for Delilah. She was slashing away at one of the Tregart demons, screaming obscenities at the top of her lungs. I leapt forward, racing toward Chase, and dropped at his side. He looked pale, and blood covered the side of his shirt. Morio joined me and I waved him away.
“Go help them. Send me Roz.”
Rozurial was by my side in seconds. He frowned when he saw Chase, then pulled out a bottle of something and splashed it over the wound site, through Chase’s shirt. “We need something to bind him with,” he said, fumbling in his pocket for a tin of the salve he carried everywhere.
I looked up at Wilbur. “Your shirt. I need your shirt.”
Wilbur shrugged and ripped it off, handing it to me. I tore it in tiny strips, trying to ignore the sounds of battle raging around me. We had to save Chase—had to get him medical attention. Roz and I bound the strips around him, after Roz slathered a handful of salve over the wound. I struggled to turn Chase long enough to get the material beneath him so we could tie it tight. He was heavy, and when I moved him, the wound began to bleed again.
“Cripes, what the hell are we going to do? We can’t get him to our cars from here.” I frantically looked around. “His breathing is so shallow. What are we going to do?”
Roz leapt up and raced over to Smoky, where he was fighting one of the demons. He’d almost finished the guy off and now Roz pushed him my way and took his place. Smoky hurried over.
“What? What do you need? Are you hurt?”
I shook my head. “We have to get Chase to the FH-CSI headquarters. He’s been hurt, and hurt badly. I don’t think Delilah knows yet.”
“It’s hard to focus in there. Those brutes are so tough it’s amazing we can take them down at all. Here, I’ll take him through the Ionyc Sea and then return to help you out.” Smoky gathered Chase in his arms and—before I could say a word—vanished.
I wanted a moment to regroup but there wasn’t time. There were still . . . oh hell, still five of the bikers standing and they were driving everyone back. Delilah looked like she’d been wounded, and I saw blood on Trillian’s cheek, and blood spatters on Vanzir. Iris came rushing up.
“We have to do something,” I said to her. “It appears these demons have skin like leather. I don’t know what to do. If we retreat, they’ll just try again!”
She nodded, her lips firmly set together. “I swore to myself I’d never use this again, but . . . we have no choice. I’ll take care of it,” she said softly, tears forming in her eyes.
I was about to ask just what she was planning, when she yelled out, “Fall back. Now!”
Everyone in our party heard her—her voice echoed through the yard like she was using a megaphone. And then, she closed her eyes and I heard her whisper, “For Henry . . .” and a whirlwind of energy rose around her, a vortex of blue and white mist, and she pushed it forward with a terrible cry.
