Labyrinth of Stars(28)

A preternatural stillness fell over my grandfather, deeper and quieter than death. For a moment, he seemed erased—as if, though I was looking at him, smelling him, he ceased to exist.

Jack said in a soft voice, “There’s no choice. Not anymore.”

I felt oddly vulnerable, hearing those words. I should have expected them. He was my grandfather, after all. But Jack was unpredictable. Jack had his own way. And sometimes that had nothing to do with my own notions of safety, or with loyalty.

I went to the table. The metal box was open, but Zee was looking at the crystal skull like it might burn him.

Behind me, my grandfather cleared his throat. “I’ll do that.”

He sounded a little too eager. I glared at him. “Just got you out of a coma.”

“Maxine,” Grant warned.

“It’s okay,” I muttered, already reaching for the thing. I couldn’t help myself. I kept thinking about the maker of this weapon, this tool that had caused so much harm and damage—and contributed to my existence. I felt no wonder or longing. Just frustration, aggravation. My mother had inspired these emotions, once upon a time. Now, so did my father.

I stared into the cavernous eyes of that carved, inhuman skull—and touched the crystal.

Why did you give this to them? I thought, hoping my father could hear me, wherever his spirit resided in the Labyrinth. I need your help, too, you know.

But nothing happened. That was how it worked with these things—never, ever, predictable. I was ready for that. For anything.

Except for the image that passed through my mind, sharp and clear as memory.

It was me. I saw myself. Gaunt, hollow-eyed.

Being dismembered by fire.





CHAPTER 10




TEXAS. It was still daylight.

I had never actually seen the boys lose their bodies in the sun. The transformation always happened too fast. Maybe, sometimes, if I watched closely at sunrise, I might glimpse the edges of their bodies shred into some unnatural haze. But that was rare: a blink, then gone. Far easier to fall into prison than out of it. Which didn’t seem fair.

I felt their weight settle on me as soon as we slipped from the void. My boys. Imprisoned on my body until sunfall. Protecting me with their flesh.

Jack stumbled, shielding his eyes against the light. Corpse-like, all bone, so starved and dehydrated it was hard to look at him. His beard and wild, matted hair stuck out at crazy angles—which, alone, wouldn’t have drawn my attention. Except that something seemed to be moving in there.

“Yes?” he said. His beard twitched. Grant coughed and looked away.

So did I, scanning the farmhouse and the dusty, long drive. I half expected to see more police, or neighbors with pitchforks, burning torches, and shotguns.

Mary opened the front door and stepped onto the porch. An Osul child pushed past her, looking like an extra big tiger cub—puffy fur, big eyes, even bigger ears—the kind of face that had a certain amount of awwww built in. Right behind it was a very young Mahati, naked, with a soft round belly and some chub in her cheeks. Good eating at the Kiss house.

“Old Wolf,” Mary said, and spat at him. The young demons craned their necks to look at her face and backed away.

“Yes, Maritine. It’s lovely to see you, too.” Jack folded his arms over his chest. “Although you might refrain from spitting at me in front of the young ones. We don’t want them learning bad habits. Or seeing bloodshed.”

“We like blood,” said the little Mahati, with absolute seriousness—and the Osul nodded furiously, letting out a fierce squeak and lashing its tail around.

I looked at Grant. “That’s superadorable, right? Not just my hormones?”

“No, darling,” he said. “I also want to squee.”

“Ha,” I said. Except for a few Osul crouched almost out of sight in the pasture—acting as guards—nothing else moved other than some birds that flitted over the rail of the old, sagging fence. I smelled cows, but the herd was gone.

A chill raced through me, a shiver. Grant bumped his shoulder against mine, and I leaned on him. He hadn’t asked what I’d seen in the skull, and I couldn’t speak of it.

But I remembered: the fire and blood, the sound of my flesh tearing, and the horrified, cutting scream ripping from my throat. No boys, no protection. My pregnant belly exposed.

“My dear,” said Jack in a mild voice, and I twitched, giving him a look I hoped wasn’t too wild. He paused, studying me, cradling the metal box under one arm. “I expected a nuclear arsenal. Commandos with guns. At the very least, some reporters. There isn’t even a helicopter, or a barking dog.”

I gave him a dirty look. Grant said, “Blood Mama’s parasites are helping us. They’ve possessed enough police and investigators, and media, to keep this thing as controlled as possible. Which won’t be enough, but it might buy us time.”