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“He said there’s a time demon,” Neo clarified. A cheeky grin was on his face as he eyed the door curiously.
“Ignore old Jarroh. He’s been manning these portals for centuries, so he’s a little senile. Understandably.”
I very much doubted Jarroh was senile at all, and he didn’t appreciate the insinuation either based on his glare.
“Open the portal,” Malachi demanded, “and stop talking nonsense.”
Jarroh mumbled something that sounded vaguely like he was threatening Malachi’s future children. A knife appeared out of nowhere in his left hand, which he quickly used to slash open the palm of the other—this happened so fast, I had no time to be prepared for either the wound or the knife.
He closed his fist around the bleeding cut and squeezed it at the base of the door.
I took a step closer, curiosity getting the better of me, to see a shallow, dug-out section of the floor collect the first drop.
Reese sucked in a sharp breath as the floorabsorbedthe drop of blood. I didn’t realize I’d begun to hold my breath, too, until another two drops fell, and the door began creaking open.
Air rushed into my lungs as it widened. The more blood dripped from Jarroh, the faster it opened, until the door finally lay yawning for us.
And what lay on the other side was… nothing.
This is what happened when expectations were high. One would expect too much, liketime-traveling demons, and not a shimmering whitenothingness.
“Well, that’s underwhelming,” Neo announced, voicing my thoughts. “I was expecting a little more—” he made dramatic jazz hands, “—pizzaz, you know? Maybe some gore and guts—”
Reese smacked him upside the head. “We’ve had enough of that to last me a lifetime.”
“Where does this thing lead us?” Michaelson asked, inquisitiveness making him take a step closer.
Malachi took that moment to weigh in. “This particular one will take us to Greece, our next stop.”
“We’re going to Greece?”
“Hell yeah!”
Neo didn’t wait for any further instructions before launching himself through the door. The light flared, and then he was gone. A scream of panic was lodged in my throat.
Malachi chuckled. “I like that one. He is quite entertaining.”
Reese looked green. “Is he… is he okay?”
“He should be in the Santorini Port as we speak,” Malachi said, starting towards the door. “Don’t keep us waiting. And thank you, Jarroh. Well met as usual.”
Only then did I realize the longer the door stayed open, the more blood Jarroh was losing. That melted whatever fear I was feeling into a puddle.
“Let’s go,” I said, and without giving myself time to think more about it, dragged myself and Sariel through the portal.
What ensued was one of the most disorienting experiences of my life, like riding an elevator that was going forwards, sideways, and briefly backwards instead of just up and down. Combined with the fact that the whole thing lasted maybe a handful of minutes, I wasnotimpressed.
Neither was Johnny, who swayed slightly on his feet once we were spat out into a brightly lit room.
Another church.
“Are all Ports in Catholic churches?” Sariel mused aloud.
“Don’t be ridiculous. These are just areas where the ley lines flow the strongest. The one to London is in a back alley, and the one that spits you out in New York is worse.”
“New York?” Neo marveled.
“London?” Michaelson echoed.
