Page 103 of Demon Touched

Darkness, in this moment I want to tell her everything. Because if she can do this, surely she can’t be dangerous to me or my realm—a trigger waiting to be pulled, a weapon ready to be wielded—like I’d feared. How could she possibly be anything but a blessing?

I open my mouth, but before the words can come, there’s footsteps on the stairs. I slip the Morphos-given disguise back into place and pull my shirt back on as Ghola ducks into the cellar. Her face is wan, eyes darting around the space like she expects to find it filled with a dangerous horde.

“Change of plan,” she says, voice tight with panic. “You have to go now. I just got a messenger from the Gradises. The seraphim are sending soldiers to the family members of those involved in the Seraph Seat attack. They want to find out who knew. They won’t come here for you, but that’s only because they think you’re in Strata. They certainly won’t hesitate to capture you if they find you here.”

It takes Leah and me one glance to know we agree. It’s time to test out my new, liberated state.

“Don’t worry, we’re going,” Leah says. “But I want to thank you⁠—”

The end of her sentence is cut off by noise upstairs—the hammering of heavy fists on a door and the hurried patter of feet. Ghola’s head jerks up toward the ceiling, then back to us.

“That must be them. Leave—quick!”

“Syrus, here. I’ll get Viz.” Leah pulls the knife from her boot and tosses it to me. I start carving runes into the cellar doorframe. This time, they don’t speak of Infernum and dark mountains beneath a purple sky, but the cluttered, heaving streets of Pax. This Cyrax is simpler, and I’ve seen Viz do it many times, so I’m confident as I snap a flame into my fingers and light the runes.

“I’ll check in on Filippa,” Leah says to her aunt, adjusting Viz easily in her arms, reminding me just how strong she’s gotten.

The rift shimmers at the edges and splits open, solid and sure, revealing an empty street beyond, shadowy in Stratan twilight.

“Don’t let her come back until we know it’s safe,” Ghola says, scanning the ceiling, listening to the muffled voices. “Who knows what the seraphim will do with us,” she says ominously.

I grab Leah and nod to Ghola. My heart leaps in my chest as I take a step through the rift.

My foot moves, smooth and certain, and comes down on the other side—unbarred and unblocked by Ajax’s magic. Then I feel the welcoming pull of the aether and let it carry me through to another realm.

Chapter 28

Leah

The rift seals shut behind us, the view into my aunt’s cellar wiped away like someone’s scrubbed it out of the air. The stale, smoky atmosphere of Strata hits me as I scan the back street we find ourselves in, making sure no one witnessed our arrival. My attention is pulled away, however, when Viz startles awake in my arms.

“…not the good parchment!” he blurts out as his eyes shoot open. He starts to wriggle, agitated, and Syrus quickly takes him from me so I don’t drop him.

“Viz,” he says, using his forearm to jiggle his chamberlain a little, as if trying to shake some clarity into him. “Talk to us.”

Viz blinks up at Syrus, then twists his head over to look at me. “Syrus. Leah. What…?” He fixes a dazed stare at the sky, which is growing dark as the sun finishes setting over Pax. “We’re in the Mire?”

Syrus’s shoulders sag with relief. “Yes, Viz. We’re in Pax. You’ve been hurt, but we’re going to get you help.” Syrus looks at me. “At least he’s awake and making sense.”

Viz promptly twists in Syrus’s arms and vomits onto the street.

I grimace. “That’s a sign of concussion,” I say. “Or maybe he’s just messed up from coming through the rift. It’s no picnic even if you don’t have a massive slash across your head.”

Viz settles back into Syrus’s arms, still awake, but eyes drooping a little now.

“Come on,” I say. “We shouldn’t try to take him through another rift right now. And now we’re in Pax, the ephilium can’t touch you guys, so we can get him treated here.”

“They can’t touch Viz or me,” Syrus agrees. “I don’t know what the provisions are for nephilim,” he says grimly. “Better we go somewhere safe. The seraphim probably already have spies here looking for us.”

I nod. I can’t take Hodges another wounded winger—he might just kill me—but I know somewhere else.

“We’ll go to my sister’s house. She’ll understand,” I say, sounding more confident than I feel. Evie would take me in no matter what, I’m sure of that, but Jeremy’s reaction is an unknown. Still, if I’d trust my sister with my life, I guess I also have to trust that she’s made the right choice with Jeremy.

It takes me a moment to orient myself, but soon I realize we’re at least on the right side of the river for our destination. And with evening drawing in, there’s little reason for people to question our human disguises as we slip past them.

I glance sideways at Syrus, softening when I see the way he’s studying every building we pass, every corner on every street, drinking it in like a man denied water for weeks. Except in his case, it’s been more than three hundred years since he was in Strata. This must all be so strange and overwhelming for him. The last time he set foot in this city, it had a different name altogether and was part of a kingdom he ruled over.

“Um…Evie’s husband is a butcher,” I say, Syrus’s past suddenly hitting me a little harder than usual. “So their home isn’t very…I mean, it’s nice but obviously it’s not, erm…”