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Jesiba’s face was unreadable. “I don’t know. In all likelihood, it’s because he was an asset in life, and remains so in death.”
“To who?”
“The Asteri. They know what Connor means to Quinlan, to you—that makes his soul very, very valuable.”
Ithan reeled. “I’m nobody.”
Jesiba gave him a disdainful look, but her phone rang before she could answer him. She picked up after one trill.
She listened silently until she said in a clipped tone, “Fine.” The sorceress hung up and fixed Ithan with a stare. “You’re wanted downstairs at the morgue.”
“You guys have a private morgue here?”
She rolled her eyes. “Hypaxia finished her vows in record time—she’s waiting down there for you. With Sigrid’s corpse.”
46
“This is as far as the ship can take you,” Commander Sendes said as Bryce and Hunt steadied themselves on the wave-tossed top of the Depth Charger. A gray sea crashed around them, the damp, howling wind blasting right through Bryce’s feeble jacket to bite at her bones.
It wasn’t exactly how Bryce had pictured the entrance to the fabled Fae homeland.
Hunt’s wings, nearly the same hue as the water, stretched wide, as if testing the air currents. On his other side, Baxian peered out over the water, his black wings braced against the wind.
Not that they had far to fly.
The wall of mist rose from the sea itself, stretching all the way into the clouds. Perhaps it continued above them. It was impossible to see.
As she’d suspected, the mists were nearly identical to those around the Bone Quarter. Impenetrable, ominous … Were these truly thin places between worlds? And what the Hel was it about these mists that the Asteri couldn’t cross?
“You can’t cruise under the mist?” Hunt asked Sendes, nodding toward the swirling mass ahead.
Sendes shook her head, the bitter wind ripping strands of her dark hair free from its tight braid. “No. There’s no mist under the water, but there is a barrier—invisible, yet solid as stone.”
“So they’re wards?” Bryce asked, shivering again. The fire sprites, who had been perched on her shoulders when she climbed into the freezing air, had left moments ago, three flames zooming out across the waves toward the distant landmass of Pangera. She’d offered up a prayer to Solas as they quickly vanished over the horizon.
“Not wards in the way we know them,” Sendes explained, barely flinching at the frigid wave that slammed into the side of the ship, showering her. Bryce, a few steps away, hissed at the spray, leaping back a step. “They seem … naturally occurring, rather than spell-made. Even the Ocean Queen’s never given the order to attempt to breach the mists here. It’s like Midgard itself made these.”
Bryce slid her chilled, wet hands into the pockets of her jacket. It did little to warm them. “Told you the mists are worth looking at.”
Last night in bed, she’d wanted to talk to him about their quarrel. But she’d been exhausted, and so grateful to just be lying next to him, that she hadn’t said anything.
Hunt peered up at the towering barrier of mist, feathers rippling in the wind. “So how’d the Fae get access in the first place?”
“Those sleazeballs can wriggle their way into anything. The ancient ones were no different,” Bryce said.
Sendes grunted in agreement, but her phone pinged, and the commander stepped away to read whatever message had come in.
Baxian stepped up to Hunt’s other side, grimacing as another wave roared, showering them all this time. Fuck it was cold. “So what’s the plan?” the Helhound asked them. He jerked his chin to Hunt. “You and I fly recon along the wall, looking for a way in?”
Hunt nodded grimly and said, “Maybe we’ll find a doorbell somewhere.”
“Your brother’s late,” Baxian said to Bryce. “We shouldn’t stay here any longer than necessary. There are probably Omega-boats nearby.”
“The ship knows how to avoid them,” Bryce countered, dodging behind Hunt to avoid another shower of icy water.
“Yeah, but we don’t want them tipped off that we’re heading into Avallen,” Baxian said. He spread his wings, flapping them once, spraying droplets off his black feathers. “I’ll head west along the wall,” the Helhound said to Hunt. “Meet back here in ten?”
Before Baxian could leap into the skies, the hatch behind them groaned, and Ruhn appeared through it, Flynn and Dec behind him. All three armed, as Bryce, Hunt, and Baxian were, with weapons from the Depth Charger’s arsenal. Handguns and knives, mostly—but better than nothing.
