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Bryce couldn’t stop the stinging in her eyes. “I could only do it because I was raised by a badass mom.”
Ember chuckled, pulling back to clasp Bryce’s face in both hands. “You look different.”
“Good different or bad different?”
“Good. Like a functioning adult.”
Bryce smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”
Ember wrapped her arms around Bryce and squeezed. “But it doesn’t matter if you’re Queen of the Fae or the Universe or whatever crap …” Bryce laughed at that, but Ember said, “You’ll always be my sweet baby.”
Bryce hugged her mother tightly, all thoughts of the hateful male lying dead far below them fading away.
In the distance, the helicopter started roaring again, this time piloted by Randall, thanks to his compulsory years in the peregrini army. All humans were forced to serve. The skills he’d learned during those years remained useful, especially now, but Bryce knew the experience weighed on his soul.
Bryce looked up at last from her mother’s embrace and saw Hunt motioning for them to get on board—obnoxiously tapping his wrist, as if to say, Time is of the essence, Quinlan!
Bryce scowled, knowing that with his angel-sharp eyes he could see it from this distance, but she held her mom for another moment. Breathed in her mom’s smell, so familiar and calming. Like home.
Ember hugged her back, content to be there—to hold her daughter for one moment longer.
This was what really mattered in the end.
70
Ithan was thoroughly sick of playing bodyguard, even from a floor below. While Hypaxia had been comparing what she’d observed in the Reaper to the water samples and Ithan’s own blood, he’d been packing up artifacts in Jesiba’s office. And glancing at the door every other minute as if Hypaxia would burst in and declare that she’d developed an antidote to the parasite. She never did.
When he entered the morgue, he found Hypaxia at the desk, head in her hands. Vials of all sizes and shapes littered the metal surface beside her.
Ithan dared to lay a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t give up. You’re exhausted—you’ve been working for hours. You’ll find a cure.”
“I already found it.”
It took him a moment to process what she’d said. “You … Really?”
Her head bobbed, and she nudged a vial of clear liquid with a fingertip. “It went faster than I had even dared to hope. I was able to use the synth antidote as a template. Synth and the parasite have magic-altering properties in common—I’ll spare you the details. With the changes I made, though, I think this will isolate the parasite and kill it the same way the synth antidote worked.” She pointed at more small vials on a low table behind her. “I made as much as I could. But …”
“But?” He could barely breathe.
She sighed. “But it’s far from perfect. I had to use Athalar’s lightning to bind it together. I had to use all of it, I’m afraid.”
She motioned to her desk, where six quartz crystals now lay. Dormant. Empty.
His heart twisted. “It’s okay.” Sigrid would remain a Reaper for the time being, but he wouldn’t give up on trying to help her.
“Athalar’s lightning holds it together, but not permanently,” Hypaxia went on. “The antidote is highly unstable—a little jostling, and it might go completely stale. If I had more time, I might find a way to stabilize it, but for right now …”
He squeezed her shoulder. “Just tell me.”
Her mouth twisted to the side before she said, “The antidote’s not a permanent fix. Its effect will wear off—and since the water of Midgard is still contaminated with the parasite, we will be reinfected as soon as it does.”
“How long will a dose work?”
“I don’t know. A few weeks? Months? Longer than a few days, I think, but I’ll need to keep refining it. Find some way to make it permanent.”
“But it’ll work for now?”
“In theory. So long as Athalar’s lightning binds it together. But I haven’t gathered the nerve to test it on myself. To see if it works and is safe, but also … to find out who I might be without this thing feeding on me.” She raised her head and met his stare, her face bleak and exhausted. “If we remove this parasite, what will it accomplish? What will you do with the extra power?”
