Labyrinth of Stars(35)

I started walking to him. He said, “Wait. Stay back.”

I paused midstep, watching a terrible stillness fall over my grandfather—as though his foot were pressing on a land mine.

“Don’t come any closer,” he said, and lowered the skull: slow, careful, as if it might explode. Mary stood, gliding sideways, keeping her body between the remains and me. “These people were engineered.”

“We know that,” I said sharply. “Tell me how.”

Jack didn’t answer me. I’d never seen him so shaken, like the foundation of his soul were being hacked at with a hammer. I could almost see the tremor of each blow—as though every time he breathed, some intolerable torment afflicted his chest. His hand pressed there, rigid fingers digging into his dirty T-shirt like claws.

I tried going to him. Mary stopped me with her sinewy arm: a rock-hard bar of bone and muscle. “Danger,” she whispered, her gaze flicking down to my stomach. That was enough to make me keep still.

Jack eased back from the remains and ran a trembling hand down his dirty, equally trembling, beard. “These humans were infected with a virus.”

I stared at him, a lifetime of terrible movies parading through my mind. I didn’t need my grandfather to confirm what I already suspected, but hearing it from him made it all very real, very terrible.

“A virus,” I repeated.

A small part of me still hoped my hot dread was misplaced, but Jack didn’t fuck around. He looked past me at Lord Ha’an. “If it works as it was meant to, the entire demon army will be dead within two weeks.”



ONCE upon a time, I would have been delighted.

A euphoric rapture, delirious and jubilant, would have showered me with righteous, ecstatic glee. Once upon a time, news like that would have been a miracle of riches.

But people change. Sometimes they change so much they become unrecognizable to themselves.

No delight. No euphoria. Not for me. There were some things I never wanted to hear. And there were things I never wanted to hear in front of a demon lord.

Lord Ha’an snarled and lunged at Jack.

I was standing between him and my grandfather. Mary stepped neatly out of the way. I didn’t move.

I didn’t even blink.

He slammed into me with all the force of a bomb, but instead of throwing me backward, I grabbed his smooth silver braids and held on like a rodeo rider, flying sideways with dizzying speed—only to find myself yanked around with neck-snapping force. He tried again to reach my grandfather, but I dragged him back, holding on with all my strength.

Ha’an growled in frustration, twisting hard to slash at my face. In that split second before contact, the weight of the boys flowed upward, covering my head. His fingertips scraped harmlessly against my cheek and throat, but the strength behind that strike was so powerful I knew that without the boys protecting me, he would have taken off half my skull.

It didn’t make me angry, though—just barely annoyed, and not even entirely at Ha’an.

My fist struck his ribs. He didn’t flinch, trying again to slam me away from him. He wasn’t even looking at me—just past my shoulder, where my grandfather probably was. God only knew if Jack was making faces at him. I wouldn’t have been surprised. I tried again to stop him, but my blows bounced like I was made of foam. Ha’an was just too powerful, fueled by the strength of all his people—as well as his own rage.

My feet left the ground. He threw me into a tree, and I heard a crack that wasn’t my back, but instead the entire trunk snapping in half. I didn’t feel a thing, but the reverberation made my teeth rattle.

Enough, I thought, and the boys responded. I was still holding Ha’an’s thick braids in one hand, and his hair began smoking. I would have thought all my other blows would have hurt him more, but the moment his hair was singed, he let out a wounded cry that made me think it wasn’t exactly hair knotted around my fingers.

I was ready to stop. That was all I needed—for him to relent just enough to listen to me.

But when I tried to let go, my hand wouldn’t obey.

He must be taught, whispered a sinuous voice.

Not me, not my voice, nothing that belonged to my imagination. My trespasser, that very real and separate entity—existing, perhaps, in that seam between flesh and spirit, where just beyond the border of skin and bone, the soul was vast.

Shut up, I told that presence. Go back to sleep.

You made a promise, it murmured, and pushed right the fuck back.

Took me by surprise. I didn’t even have a heartbeat’s warning. I lost myself. I lost, and all I could do was stand there like a fool.

My vision flickered: static, a channel fading in and out. A smile touched my mouth, one that wasn’t mine, a smile that was wide and fat, and hungry. I would have bashed my face against a rock if I could have, cracked my head like an egg to make it stop. I fought, I fought—and the smile on my face only got wider.