Across the field, several people hurried toward us. Gabriel and Ren I recognized right away, and then I realized I recognized some of others as well. There were Jessica and Patrick from my desert memories. There was also a blond man who carried himself like military. And then there was Larsa. She looked exactly the same as she had in my vision.
“Mother!” Larsa broke free of the group.
“Larsa!” Shamhat enveloped her daughter in her embrace, and they shared a sweet moment of reconnection.
“It’s so nice to see you,” said Larsa, pulling away, seemingly caught between embarrassment about this show of affection and happiness that she was no longer orphaned. I had a moment of envy. What would it be like if my mother suddenly showed up after so long? Regret was a terrible ache in my chest.
“It is good that you lived,” said Shamhat. Then she pulled her daughter in for another hug and made a sobbing sound, even though no tears fell. One of Theodora Monroe’s factoids came to mind—vampires couldn’t cry.
Drake had joined the others, and they were having an animated discussion. While Shamhat and Larsa continued their reunion , Amahté and I walked to the group.
Everyone quieted all at once, and their gazes slid away from me.
“What?” I asked. My heart started to pound, and foreboding dropped like a cold, wet stone into my stomach.
“We managed to rout them,” said Gabriel. “We killed all but three.”
“Karn got away again, didn’t he?” I asked.
“Him and two others,” confirmed the blond man. He offered me a grim smile. “I’m Braddock Hayes. I head up security for Broken Heart.”
I nodded toward him, and waited for the bomb to drop.
“They have my wife,” said Gabriel. “And Dove.”
“Did Patsy visit you, too?” I asked.
“Yes,” said Gabriel. “I’m sorry. Your friend is . . .” The look of empathy on his face made my stomach roil.
“She’s really bad off,” offered Jessica. “But still breathing.” She sent Gabriel a testy look. “Don’t be a Negative Nelly, Gabe.”
“Don’t call me Gabe,” he muttered.
“What’s the negotiating point?” I asked.
“The ambrosia,” said Gabriel. “Do you have it?”
I had a feeling that if I had the ambrosia in my possession, he would’ve taken it and popped off to wherever to get his wife. I understood his anxiety. His pregnant mate was chained up and at the mercy of a vampire who had no soul and no conscience. But Patsy was a paranormal being. She was strong. She would survive.
Dove would not.
“The ambrosia is elsewhere,” said Amahté. “We have released our claim on it and gifted it to Moira. Now she’s the only one who can retrieve it.”
“Your claim?” I asked.
“Ambrosia can only be gifted by the gods—but the people who receive the precious substance can also give it another,” said Amahté. He looked apologetic. “The ambrosia was a backup for our revival. In case the unicorn blood was not enough.”
Well, apparently the unicorn blood was plenty. I waved my hand, dismissing all guilt associated with the current situation. “So . . . retrieve?” I asked. I was terrified for Dove. She was dying. And these people . . . these non-people didn’t care . . . And now I had to go on another scavenger hunt for the ambrosia? Hadn’t I earned it already? “Can’t you just use your almighty vampire powers to get it?”
“No,” said Amahté. “You must be the one to get it, Moira. Claiming it yourself is the only way for you to use its powers.”
“Where is it?” I asked. Anger coiled around me like pythons, squeezing the patience right out of me.
Drake reached over and clapped my shoulder. I don’t know if he meant to calm or to comfort, but I wasn’t in the mood to be coddled, damn it. I shrugged off his hand. “Amahté?”
“Are you sure you want to know?” he asked softly. “Your hatred of Karn may well impede your journey. You must be stronger than your anger and your fear, or you will fail.”
“Stop bullshitting,” I snapped. “Where. Is. It?”
“Ambrosia can only be found in one place.” Amahté searched my face, and then he sighed. “The Underworld.”
Chapter 24
“You mean hell?” I asked. I’d been to a lot of dangerous places, which is why I wasn’t scared to fight or to use a gun. I’d excavated sites where I’d had to pay drug lords for protection and make deals with rebels to dig in their part of the jungle. It was part and parcel of what I loved to do, and I’d gotten used to it. But the Underworld? How was I supposed to prepare for that?