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Morio motioned to me. “Let’s see if we can get anything off the tombstones.”
“Psychometry? I’ve never been extremely good with that.” I wasn’t good at just touching an object to find out about its background or the people who owned it. Unless the Demonkin had been in possession of it, and then I could sense their energy.
“No, but with my help, we might be able to strengthen that part of you.”
He took my hand, his fingers curling around my own, and the feel of his skin was like smooth satin. I kissed his fingers and closed my eyes, and he moved his hands to rest on my shoulders.
I slowly let out a long breath and quickly sank into trance. As I slid deeper into the whirling darkness, Morio’s breathing registered, pacing my own. And then the beating of his heart mirrored mine.
“Can you hear me?” Morio’s thoughts came through. Or perhaps he was whispering—I couldn’t tell at this point.
“Yes, love. What do you wish me to do now?”
Unless we were working with Moon magic, I let Morio lead. He was my teacher in this dark realm. He knew how to navigate the currents of death magic without letting them sweep him away. I trusted him.
“Kneel down, and with your left hand, touch the tombstone in front of us. Let your mind embrace the form and shape and feel. Open to any impressions that might come through.”
I did as he asked, sinking to the ground slowly, making sure Morio stayed connected to me. Physical contact wasn’t absolutely necessary, but it made things a lot easier.
The ground was soft and moist beneath my knees, and I felt like I was sinking into the earth. A reverberation of magic ran through Ivana’s land and it sang to me. I caught my breath, wanting to unhook my corset, to press my breasts into the soil. At that moment, Morio let out a small sound and I realized he was feeling it, too—through me.
“Ivana, what is this energy…” My words drifted off as I opened my eyes and looked over at her. It took everything I had not to reel back, to break the connection and spell.
For there she stood, Ivana, the Maiden of Karask, only she was no longer hideous and gnarled, but tall and brilliant and dark as the evening sky. Her hair flowed now, long and silver, with black streaks running through it. She was taller than Smoky, and her face was angular, pale as the moon’s silver light, and her eyes glowed with a dark burgundy—not in the way of vampires, but like hot coals in the middle of a white sea.
Ivana Krask was terrifying in her unnatural beauty—far more than Aeval or Titania. A magnetic pulse resounded from her core, shimmering out in concentric rings, and it captured me with a deep rhythmic vibration. I wanted to run to her, to fall at her feet.
Fighting with my instinct, I forced myself to hold steady. Morio was struggling, too. I could feel longing rise up in Morio—a deep hunger. I reached up, took his hand, and squeezed as hard as I could, driving my nails into his skin to shake him out of his stupor. He moaned softly but then shook his head and glanced at me as he steadied himself.
Shade was holding Delilah as she huddled in his arms, weeping. I didn’t know what was going on, but she didn’t look hurt, so I returned my attention to Ivana, who slowly crossed to stand beside me.
“What is this?” I stared up at her.
She laughed again, then leaned down. She kissed one finger, then pressed it to my lips. “Witch Girl, never forget, the Elder Fae have many forms and more power than you can ever hope to possess. I am showing you my power.”
“Why would you do that?”
“You need to know. For this creature who gobbled up my ghosties, it is stronger than I am. So before you go delving into the grave for its bugaboos and secrets, best you know my own strength. Then, you can decide whether to proceed. You suspected me of raiding the boneyards. I could, if I chose to. But I leave some things be. The ghosties in boneyards, they are home and I do not invade their space. I only go after the spirits who wander, whose fury keeps them from resting. This…thing…whatever it is, plays by its own rules. It eats its fill and scatters the bones.”
I looked around. “I see no bones.”
“This is no graveyard, but only a ghostly repository. But the bones…the bone-walkers and the ghoulies and the zombinos…they travel in the wake of this creature. To create such an army…think of the power it takes.”
I nodded. I didn’t want to tell her that we already knew we were facing a god—it didn’t seem a wise choice to spill secrets at this point.
“I hear your words.” I would not thank her for her advice—that would be giving her too much power over me—but I wanted her to know I appreciated the attempt.
And then, turning back, I pressed my hand against the tombstone. At first, the energy was slow, seeping up from the soil. There was the residue from the ghost who had been anchored to it—hateful and angry and bitter. And then, as I searched, trying to sort out the blur of sensations and impressions, Morio fed me more energy. Without warning, in one long lash of the whip, the sky split open, and I was catapulted into the heart of Gulakah.
Chapter 6
At first, everything was dark and murky, and then a screaming fear shot through me as I found myself floundering in a sea of gray, murky liquid ooze. I blinked, shaking my head as I broke through the water and came up for air. How the hell had I gotten here? And where was here?
But a crest of waves crashed against me, thick and sloshing, and I pushed all questions out of my mind as I fought to keep above the surface. It was then that I noticed the snakes.
Fuck.
All around me, snakes writhed through the muddy ocean, snapping as they came near. I kicked, desperately trying to tread water—if this liquid murk could be called water. Viscous, it reminded me of paint, and was sticky and cold. The smell of rotting detritus filled my nostrils, like old briny seaweed washed up on the shore, and overripe clams.
