She had left the kitchen to lie down in a nest of blankets in the middle of the living-room floor. Curled on her side, eyes wide open, staring at the couch. It was disturbing, seeing her so still. Her cheeks were red, feverish. I set the crystal skull beside her, and, in total silence, she pulled it close and hugged it to her stomach. My vision blurred. I was afraid I’d fall into another vision—but no, I told myself, I was just tired.
I made my way to the empty chair beside the couch and took Grant’s hand. His skin was warm and dry, but not hot. Reassuringly alive—that was his temperature. The Shurik was still on his chest, but its color had improved—from death gray to death paste. That also had to be encouraging, I told myself, and leaned in—staring at the damn thing like it was a measure of my husband’s health.
Little teeth glistened at me. I bared my teeth in return.
But that was all I could do. I sat there, body aching, mind racing—gripping my husband’s hand, squeezing his fingers, and lightly scratching his wrist.
I’d had everything I’d ever wanted, for a brief time. A man who loved me. A home. A family. I still had these things. But there was always an expiration date, wasn’t there? Most people could ignore that, but the cold truth hung in front of me.
This won’t last, it said. Time is running out.
“Rest,” said the Messenger, breaking her song, looking at me with those cold, hard eyes. No use pretending that she couldn’t see I was afraid and lost. “An hour will not break the world.”
“An hour could save us.”
“No,” she said, still holding my gaze. “It will not.”
I stared at her, ready to argue. But to what point? She was wrong about time being meaningless. Even a moment could make a difference. But she was right that I needed rest. I hadn’t slept in . . . a while. It scared me to try. Especially now.
“Tell me about the disease,” I said. “What do you see?”
She hesitated. “The Lightbringer could not heal the demons of it.”
“No.”
Again, she paused, her gaze becoming unfocused as she stared down at my husband. “It is a puzzle, Hunter. A poison that lives, that replicates itself with tremendous speed. It refuses to be killed or purged. All I can do is make him stronger and help his body fight. It will not save him, but it will buy him time.”
And you? I asked the darkness. What could you do?
One life already saved, came the slow whisper, followed by a pulse that ran through my body like a second, massive heartbeat. You have nothing else to bargain with.
I’m asking. I’m begging.
You prayed, murmured the darkness. You prayed with all the power of your soul for your daughter to be saved, and so your soul was given freely. Pray for this man, but it will never be with the same power as you prayed for your own blood.
You’re wrong, I said.
You do not love him as much as you love your child. You do not need him as much as you need her. You know she is protected beneath the shadow of your heart, and so you are reckless . . . but you would let this world die if she was not safe. Every life would crumble to ash to see her live. Including his.
My breath caught. The Messenger said, “Hunter,” but I couldn’t acknowledge her. A different, devastating dread was rising through me, and it made me want to puke.
I loved Grant. I loved him with all my heart. He was part of me in ways no one could ever be, and I would do anything to save him.
But in my heart of hearts, in that secret place where silence was power, the darkness held the truth. I wanted my husband to live. I wanted the demons to survive. I wanted to protect this world. And I would fight for it, with every breath.
But not my last breath. That was saved for my daughter.
I felt strange, unbalanced. Needing a distraction, I checked my phone—and straightened. Rex had tried to call, and there was a text from him, too.
Mongolia, I read. Outside Ölgii. He’s there right now.
I stood, slowly. My lower stomach ached, but I told myself that was natural, just the baby growing and my body making room. “I know where my grandfather is. I have to go find him.”
The Messenger’s mouth tightened. “Remember what I told you.”
“Thanks.” I leaned in, brushing my lips over Grant’s brow. “Keep him safe.”
“I would not be trying to save his life if I intended to let him die by another’s hands.” The Messenger hesitated. “They should have already tried again to take him. And your daughter.”
I touched my stomach. “What does it mean that they haven’t?”
“I do not know. There seems to be little strategy involved. If they had truly been intent on capturing the Lightbringer, it would have been easy to accomplish by now. Sending giants to attack you was ill-advised. His slow death from this disease seems to have been an accident. Even the attack on your daughter appears opportunistic rather than planned. None of that is the Aetar way.” She had never referred to the Aetar by their name; she said the word with difficulty, as if it cut the inside of her mouth.