Page 71 of Under the Iron Sky

But she was in a metal graveyard.

And he did not know these machines like she did.

22

The vapor was thick over the mountains. A sign of good omens, Ramapheal always said, that their powers were on the rise and that the very stones beneath their feet were so starved for Vordellian screams that they’d painted the kingdom red in anticipation of the glorious blood rain that was sure to come.

Ramapheal’s teachings had never been wrong before, but tonight Ikarus hated the sight of it. He couldn’t see a thing through the vapor, thick and endless and stretching out like an ocean of blood as far as he could see.

The human was here, though. He was sure of it.

He’d been a fucking fool not to check her pulse when he’d knelt over her on that dungeon floor, to not listen for her heart before ripping the bars away and charging to her.

Pathetic. And if Morana discovered the human had escaped? Ramapheal? He wouldn’t let himself think of it.

Blowing out a breath, he pulled Serone’s reins, making sure the protective shield he’d thrown around her was stronger than iron, and steered them down. She obeyed, but the deep grumble that vibrated against his thighs told him she was anything but happy about it.

Down they went, through the rolling crimson mist that felt an awful lot like dropping into a pool of blood.

A slender shape appeared a few feet ahead. They followed it, Serone’s growl quieting to nothing as she tucked in her wings, a hawk on the hunt.

Ikarus sent out a wave of his power, ready to take hold of the human and drag her onto Serone’s back, only to grasp onto the torrent of a Vordellian cannon.

Roaring, Serone immediately swerved up and away, each beat of her wings pushing more and more of the red mist back until they were surrounded by jets and Sentinels and—

Shit. They’d flown right into a fucking army.

Ikarus placed a hand on Serone’s neck. “Shhh, it’s all right. They’re not active.” They’d likely have been dead minutes ago otherwise.

Serone stretched out her wings, and Ikarus steered her forward, goosebumps prickling across his arms. None of the machines moved, but he swore he could still feel the torrent of every one watching him like the eyes of a starving beast, waiting for the moment they flew within range.

This wasn’t the first metal graveyard Ikarus had seen down here, but his blood still ran cold being surrounded by all this metal, dead or not.

His pulse raced as more machines poked up through the vapor like skeletal hands reaching out of premature graves, his head throbbing with pain as if to say, If she could do all this with only a few berries and a dinner tray, then what is she capable of with all this?

It was too late to turn back.

Adrenaline could explain away the slightly accelerated drum of his heart—but that clench in his stomach? That sharp squeezing in his chest each time he thought he saw the mist move out of the corner of his eye? For the first time in years, he was nervous flying into battle.

What? No. He shook his head, pushing the ridiculous thought away as quickly as it’d formed.

He was Ramapheal’s right hand. He was a Demon. He did not fear anyone—and certainly not a fucking human.

Ikarus’s knuckles turned white around the reins as he scanned the vapor. In his hurry, he hadn’t thought to retreat into the castle before chasing after her, and being out here now without his armor made him feel like he was wading through beast-infested waters with a bleeding wound.

He had Serone, the knives sewn into the back of his jacket and his magic. It would have to be enough.

He grasped the edges of that magic now, pictured it coiling tight around his arms like a pair of giant snakes. The air practically humming with power around him, he palmed Serone’s scales, pushing more into the shield around her too.

He would not let the monsters below take him or Serone. He refused.

They did two more circular passes before he finally spoke. “I know you’re down there, God Killer,” he called into the nothingness. No one answered, but she’d heard. He could feel her presence hiding among the weapons of her kind, a siren called home to her own machines of death.

They made another pass, and when she still hadn’t shown herself, Ikarus’s already thin patience came to its end. She wanted him to come to her, did she? So fucking be it.

With a low growl, Serone tucked in her wings and plummeted downward.

Thankfully the vapor wasn’t nearly as thick on the ground, more of a thin veil than a wall, but there were patches where it clumped together around crashed jets and bits of broken armor, as though it was intrigued by the foreign metals and wanted a closer look.