Demos gave me an incredulous look. "We've been waiting on you."
I flashed a wide grin. "Oh, then I guess we're ready."
Bastien stood beside me, looking everywhere but at me.
"I know what you did," I said.
He gave me a questioning look. "What have I done now?"
"Galach's rescue. Thank you for helping Briony."
"It's the least I could do," he said. "And we'll need as many guards as we can find for whatever is ahead. They should be at the Shelter by now."
Of course he'd downplay it. Whenever he'd done good deeds for others, he was humble.
"Everyone has their assignments," The Red hollered. "We're off. Remember, you start jumping at two in the morning London time."
The group broke up and headed in different directions.
"Red," I said, approaching him.
He rotated to face me. "You need something, Gianna?"
I reached behind my neck, unfastened Faith's pendant, and handed it out to him. "I wanted you to have this. It was Faith's, and it should belong to you. Maybe it'll bring you luck."
He inspected the pendant that was connected to the dainty chain dangling from his large hand. "Thank you. It's as beautiful as she was." He sniffed and strained his face, trying not to cry, but he couldn't hide the emotion in his voice. "I miss her every day."
I glanced off, not wanting to catch the emotions choking him up. "I do, too."
The Red squared his shoulders. "Enough sap. It's time we be warriors. Stop Conemar and his followers. That's what Faith would want us to do." He secured the necklace around his neck, tucked it into his shirt, and stomped off.
Enoon, the tough man with boar features and tusks who we ran into at Barmhilde, was first. "It is our custom to show respect to our greatest warrior by a slap on the back. Not many receive such an honor. Don't worry, the others won't hurt you." He clapped my back. "Death be a stranger."
Another Mystik with ashen skin and twig-like hair came up and repeated Enoon's words and actions. The line continued with men and women from the many different Mystik covens-Laniars with their sharp canines and greyhound shaped bodies, horned men and women, a few older Sentinels, and many others. Their various colored and shaped eyes held hope and so much warmth for me.
A Writhe, one not turned into an evil, ominous creature by Conemar, stopped in front of me. He moved his bald head from side to side, studying me. Raised veins just under his pale skin branched out like roots of a tree.
The Writhes were the first coven to fall to Conemar. He'd used the ones who hadn't escaped or he hadn't killed as experiments for an ancient potion he'd found in Esteril. It turned them into evil creatures driven by the thirst to kill, but controlled by their master. The first high wizard of that haven and Athela's father, Mykyl, had come up with the recipe to create the Tetrad-four warriors made into terrifying creatures joined by one soul with the power of all the elements.
"I do this for the loss of my people." He lightly tapped my shoulder as if afraid to hurt me, which completely surprised me. All this time I had been afraid of every Writhe because of my encounter with the ones Conemar had changed into feral beasts. But I was wrong. The Writhe standing in front of me was proof that not all of them were bad. "Death be a stranger," he said and walked off with his head high and determination in his gait. He joined a group of Writhes up the hill. There were about a dozen of them joining the fight with us.
Two hounds paced around the Writhes. They looked like nightmares on four legs, resembling demon-possessed rhinos with a large tusk curving up from their snouts. Nick, Afton, and I had encountered one that first night I accidentally jumped with them to a Paris library. Most of them had died during Conemar's attack on the Writhe's coven.
After each Mystik performed the ritual on me, they headed for the village. A rush of pride caused me to stand straighter. Their respect and the hope they placed in me sent fire through my veins. We had to stop the council's plan. We couldn't fail. Too many lives depended on it.
Taking up the end of the line, Bastien smiled as he approached me. "I thought it would never end."
"Me, either." I glanced over my shoulder at the Writhes. "I'm surprised they came."
He looked to where my eyes were set. "They have had it harder than most. Those men and women are the last of their warriors. It was hard for them to leave their hideout. They know the remaining survivors are vulnerable without them."
"There are more of them? Survivors?"
"Yes. Their hope is to one day return to their coven and rebuild. That is their motivation for joining us." Bastien slid a glance at me. "You all right?"
"Yeah. Just a little overwhelmed by that ceremony."
"It's a great honor," he said.
An uncomfortable silence settled around us. Ever since Sinead's death, things were off with us. Everything felt numb-my body, my mind, my soul. Nana said I was just grieving, and that with time, I'd feel better. I sure hoped so, because the funk I was in made me feel like there was a black hole eating up my insides.
When it was obvious I wasn't going to respond to his last statement, he said, "I forgot to tell The Red something. Excuse me."
My eyes followed Bastien as he jogged over to The Red, who was in a deep conversation with Edgar.
Demos came up to my side. "Hey, it's going to be tough tonight. I just wanted to say-"
"Wait." I stopped him. "You're not going to say you love me, are you?"
His eyebrows pushed together. "Have you lost your senses? Why would I say that?"
Because Nana and Afton had? I shrugged a shoulder. "Um, I don't know."
Okay … awkward.
"I was going to tell you to stay alert," he said. "And that I like you most days, so try to make it back alive, all right?"
"You watch yourself, too. You're kind of nice to have around … most days."
He smirked and took long strides up the hill, following The Red's gang.
There was no certainty our plan would work, but watching the determination in the creatures storming up the hill, I felt ready to face it.
Chapter Twenty-One
The neoclassical manor of the Shelter seemed quiet compared to the last time I'd been there. The makeshift camp that housed many Mystiks, wizards, and guards during the uprising was gone. To the south of the manor, the lake was a dark gray, with clouds covering the moon.
With labored breaths, struggling with her tote bag, Nana tried to keep up with us.
"Here. Let me carry it for a while," Afton said, adjusting the pack on her back before taking Nana's bag from her.
Nana smiled and patted Afton's arm. "Thank you, dear."
We crossed a bridge arching over the river and walked on a cobbled pathway that cut through the tiny rows of cottages. Not a single villager was out as they were the first time I had walked the roads. Only a few of the windows had flickering lights behind their thick glass windows. No voices greeted us when we came into the foyer of the Shelter.
"Something isn't right." I held on tighter to my bag with Gian's book inside as I quietly walked into the den. The furniture resembled hunched ghosts covered with sheets. "No one is here."
Panic fluttered in my chest. Where are they? Pop?
Bastien crossed the room to the large brick hearth that dominated one of the walls. He grabbed a metal rod leaning in a stand beside it and poked at the charcoaled logs.
"It's wet," he said. "Someone put it out with water. They were here not too long ago."
"This is bad, isn't it?" Afton twisted the handles of Nana's tote bag.
Nana clicked her tongue. "Now, now, dear, we always stay positive in moments like this. We wouldn't want to invite bad karma, now, would we?"
My chest tightened as all the horrible things that could have happened raced through my mind.
Pop was supposed to be there with Afton's parents. Bastien's mother and her guards had been hiding at the Shelter for months. Briony and Galach should have already arrived there, too. But they hadn't. They were gone-or worse, taken.
"Where are they?" I asked, frustration in my voice.
"By the looks of things, they were covering up their presence here." Bastien stood and wiped the wet cinders from his fingers onto his pant leg. "Perhaps they went to the basement. There's a hideout there."
I followed him down the basement steps. Nana and Afton waited at the top of the stairs for us. As I landed on the bottom floor, my hands shook. Bastien went to the farthest wall to a heavy mahogany wardrobe.
At first, I thought he would open the doors and we would travel through the wardrobe to another magical realm just like in one of my favorite books, but instead he searched the side of it. His arm jerked and a click sounded.
"Stand back," he warned me before calling, "Hello! Is there anyone inside? I am Bastien Renard of Couve."
"Bastien?" a woman's voice came from the other side of the wall.
The wardrobe swung out. A guard with huge muscles and a receding hairline, his sword extended in front of him, eased through the opening. "C'est lui," the guard said. "Bastien."