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“According to the map, we’re nearly to the bridge. This is the last steep climb,” Baer interjected.
“I need to take the lead.” Grey started to move toward the front of the line, but Cort roughly grabbed his mate, wrapping both hands around his arm and holding him in place.
“Grey, I don’t like this. It’s too many people for you. You’re already exhausted.”
Grey looked as though he tried to smile, but it crumpled from his lips and he cupped the side of his soul mate’s face. “Just a little bit farther.”
A sick feeling twisted in Harrison’s stomach had him reaching out to touch Grey’s shoulder. He couldn’t hear the man’s thoughts, but he got a flash of what would happen if Grey stepped into the lead. The Soul Weaver’s mind would break. He’d collapse in agony. There would be no final spell. As much as he didn’t want any of the Weavers to die with the final spell, they had no choice. The rift had to be closed.
“You can’t,” Harrison countered.
“What’s going on?” Clay demanded. He stepped in front of the Soul Weaver, his expression dark and foreboding.
“John changed the spell. He’s got control of the humans, but they’re all conscious this time. Their terror…their minds are screaming out at me,” Grey finished brokenly. “I can’t block them out.”
“How many?” Clay bit out.
“A few hundred.” Grey paused and rubbed at his head with his free hand. “John is too powerful here. It’ll take too long to remove the spell from all of them. I don’t want to hurt innocent people.”
“You’re not. We’re going to simply remove the humans from the battle,” Harrison snarled. He had an idea. Maybe a slightly crazy one, but it would save Grey at the very least. And if they defeated the pestilents, all the brainwashed humans would be saved as well.
He moved into the lead again with Hale right behind him. “I need Clay with me. Lucien and Baer protect us. Everyone else watch over Grey.”
“What’s the plan, Keeper?” Lucien called out as he caught up with them.
Harrison scrabbled up the rocky red slope, cutting along the natural staircase to the final flat ridge that would give them a view of the rift.
But blocking the view of the rift and Devil’s Bridge was an enormous crowd of people.
They were a ragtag group, ranging from all ages. Some were dressed for the day while others stood barefoot in pajamas as if John had pulled them straight out of their beds. Faces were slack and hands hung limp at their sides, but every last one of them had wide eyes filled with fear.
“Clay, create thick vines up across the path, blocking them from reaching us. Hale, gather them up with the wind and place them down in the valley below the bridge,” Harrison instructed. He pointed to the pestilents on the outskirts of the human mob. “Lucien and Baer, clean up. Take out the pestilents who slip through the cracks.”
“Putting them in the valley won’t remove the spell,” Hale warned even as he summoned up a tightly controlled tornado.
“No, but they won’t be able to reach us quickly to attack. It’ll buy you some time to cast the final spell.”
And right now, time was the only thing Harrison could give them. There was no answer in his mind or in glimpses of the future of how he could save all their lives.
The noise was horrendous as thick vines broke through the earth and pushed aside rocks. John shouted from a short distance away, the dark leader screaming for the remaining pestilents he had at his disposal to attack.
“Fuck that shit,” Lucien snarled. With a ball of fire in his hand, he shot it through the crowd, slamming it straight into John’s chest. The pestilent bellowed in rage and pain. Other pestilents rushed to his side, fighting to put out the flames while Hale rushed to get the humans away from their captor and safely into the valley below.
The second the humans were tucked away, the remaining pestilents attacked, cutting away at the vines that Clay was fighting to keep in place.
Devil’s Bridge could be clearly seen now. And so could the rift. White energy crackled around a black hole that hung just above the red rock arch. It was as if some divine hand had sliced a hole into the very air, opening the way into nothingness. Or rather the home world of the pestilents.
As Harrison watched, he could see a figure emerge from the darkness every few seconds. The pestilents were sending more people through to strengthen their numbers. They’d killed so many, and they couldn’t keep fighting the pestilents.
But Clay’s wall was holding them back. They had breathing space now.
“Harrison?”
Clay’s voice was so gentle that Harrison actually jumped at the sound of it. He jerked his head around to find the leader of the Weavers standing with his hand outstretched, fingers trembling slightly.
