Labyrinth of Stars(55)

Kill all the humans on that world, and you will starve the demons out, replied that other. But, as you wish. Alter the disease. And I will fashion its cure. Just in case.

You are the Devourer, came the almost-cheerful reply. And ever wise.

Fires crisped my back. I tried to hold on to the vision before me, but the bodies shrank and slid away, leaving me with nothing but my heart.

And my heart pulled me forward. The fires pushed. In front of me, where the bodies had been, I saw a mountain appear, except it was not rock, just flesh. Not a mountain, but a heart.

Grant’s heart.

The rot was still all around us, but here—a patch. Here, a place where I could reach my husband. How long had I been lost? I still saw traces of light in those muscles, veins that held an echo of life.

Grant, I called, but there was no answer—perhaps, just the hint of a touch, the ghost of a man.

I touched one of those veins of fading light, and my hands sank deep inside. Everything in me that was alive, I poured into him. It wasn’t mouth-to-mouth—just soul-to-soul, my soul searching desperately for his soul, my soul plunging deep and far away into my husband. The rot tried to surround me, but I burned it away, burned and clawed and beat it back.

Wake up, I begged his heart. Wake up.

Maxine, I heard, but that wasn’t Grant’s voice. It was Zee. I ignored him, falling deeper. Claws brushed my arms, scales soft as silk around my throat. Darkness engulfed me, but it only made the light shine brighter, hotter, until everything disappeared, everything. Except a pale hand that pushed free of the light.

I grabbed, pulled.

My husband’s heart began to beat.

I almost didn’t believe it, but I felt that solid, thumping rhythm, rich and deep as a drum made from a mountain thundering. I felt the boys with us, too, their spirits just as strong as their flesh. I pulled again on Grant’s hand, hauling him toward me, tugging and yanking with every ounce of my strength. I didn’t think I had anything left to give, but I found more—I found enough.

All around us, the rot began moving in. I reached out, laid my hand upon it—

—and the world shifted again.



I opened my eyes and saw nothing but stars.

Stars, blurred, because there were tears in my eyes. I couldn’t think—no memory, no sense of place—just a scrambling, wild pulse of anxiety that hit my chest, making it hard to breathe. Or maybe that was the demon sitting on me.

“Maxine,” Zee rasped, sliding his cool claws down my cheek. I stared at him, struggling not to panic. Certain that something terrible had happened, right beyond my reach. I craned my neck, taking in my grandmother’s grave, the old oak, and several pairs of red eyes blinking with uncertainty. All normal. All fine. But something was missing, something—

It all came back.

Panic exploded into outright terror. I shoved at Zee, trying to sit up. He scrambled off me, and I rolled off the rock—right onto my face. None of my limbs worked, and now that I was moving, I could barely see straight; dizziness made me cling to the grass. I took a deep breath, steeled myself—and stood just long enough to launch myself into a shambling run.

I was headed downhill, which gave me momentum. Nothing seemed to work right—my legs kept threatening to collapse, each step random, flinging, wild—and my spine seemed incapable of straightening beyond a hunched c shape. My right arm swung in the air, and the other clutched hard against my stomach. I might have been drooling, but I didn’t give a shit. I was upright. I was moving. And I had the farmhouse fixed in my sights.

Raw and Aaz loped past me. I tried to tell them to go to Grant, but my voice wouldn’t form the words—just a low, unintelligible growl that only confirmed I was drooling like a motherfucker. Zee, somewhere on my left, snapped out a sharp, guttural command—Aaz disappeared instantly into the shadows. I was only dimly aware of Dek and Mal on my shoulders; wrapped tight, warm and silent.

One foot in front of the other. One foot. One step. My life, reduced to nothing more basic. I didn’t think. I couldn’t. Only once did I try to find my husband’s spirit through our link, but even reaching for the link almost knocked me out. It should have been easy as breathing, but that brief effort made me feel like I was at twenty thousand feet, out of oxygen, and still trying to climb a mountain.

I was mostly upright by the time I reached the farmhouse: breathing hard, dizzy, my skin flushed with fever. Zee caught me before I fell on the porch stairs, half-dragging me up to the door, which Raw opened with such force it broke right off the hinges. I was dimly aware of movement all around me: hundreds of Shurik, clinging to the porch boards and rails, curled up on the wicker chairs like amputated, hairless cats.