Labyrinth of Stars(8)

“Of course.” Blood Mama leaned against the SUV, examining the thick, rough hands of the body she’d stolen. Raw crept out from beneath the vehicle. Aaz was already perched on the hood, carving something into the metal. The sound his claws made was hideous, but no one said a word.

“You’re both fucked,” added Blood Mama, and smiled. “This should be fun to watch.”

“You don’t think you’ll be affected?” Grant asked, in a cold voice.

“Pfft. Spare me my life.” Blood Mama glanced down at Zee, who crouched beside me. “My old wretched King. You don’t have the army to fight the Aetar. We didn’t have the army before, and we were a million strong. Even the Lightbringers could not save themselves. You think this will be any different?”

Zee gave the other demon a long, steady look. Blood Mama, after a moment, flinched—and glanced away. “Fine. As you wish. I have nothing more to add except that my children do not know where the Aetar are hiding on this world—if they’re here at all. These creatures they sent through the Labyrinth to attack you and Grant . . . it might have just been the first poke, to see what would happen, and test you.” Blood Mama’s gaze found mine, then dropped to my belly. “They’ll poke again, Hunter.”

My jaw tightened. Blood Mama opened the SUV door and climbed in. Before pulling away, though, the window rolled down, and that thunderous aura spilled out around the sheriff. “Have you decided what to do with those dead constructs on your hill?”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Will you let your army eat them?”

“No. That’s disgusting.”

Blood Mama looked at me like I was a fool. “You refuse to let the demons eat the flesh of humans because it is ‘wrong’ . . . but these creatures, and any the Aetar send, are your enemies. If you wish your demons to think of them as such, as prey, then you must give them that flesh to feed on. Give them that pain. Give them the hunt. There must always be a hunt. If you want any chance of surviving, you must remember that.” The demon’s smile was cold, mirthless. “You, who are the Hunter, with the old wyrm inside your heart.”

I didn’t say anything, and that smile widened into something close to a silent laugh.

“What is so funny?” Grant asked. “You’re dying to tell us something.”

“You can see that, but you cannot read my mind. How delightful.” Blood Mama blew him a kiss. “Your night is far from over. I would conserve your strength if I were you.”

And before any of us could say another word—or, more importantly, before Grant could, and compel her to stay and talk—that SUV roared away in a cloud of dust and fumes. Aaz, still clinging to the hood, leapt off and landed on top of Raw. Dek and Mal, who had been hiding in the shadows of my hair, poked their heads free and started humming Bon Jovi’s “Runaway.”

I took Grant’s hand. “Tell me everything is going to be okay.”

“Everything is going to be okay,” he said, and drew me close for a long tight hug. “Breathe,” he whispered. “We’re still here.”

I exhaled, slowly, and it almost hurt. I looked down at Zee, trailing my fingers through his spiked hair. The little demon leaned against me.

“How about you?” I said to him. “What do you think about all this?”

He hesitated. But before he could say anything—if he was going to say anything—my cell phone rang.

“Don’t answer that,” Grant said.

“I don’t want to.” I reached into my back pocket for my phone, not taking my gaze off him. “Hello?”

“Find a television,” said a quiet, male voice on the other end of the line. Byron, the most serious, grown-up teenager I’d ever met. “You need to see something.”

Dread spread through me. Zee sighed, and once again pressed his ear to my stomach.

“Ash,” he murmured. “Fire, for dreams.”





CHAPTER 4




PEOPLE had to die, of course. I always knew that was how it would start. I only hoped we would have more time.

The first murder—we got lucky. Single male, no family, driving a pickup truck that police later found in a ditch at the side of the road. The demons were so hungry for human flesh they didn’t leave a speck of blood. The man might as well have walked away from his life. Which is what the authorities finally concluded.

The second time made us sweat. A grandfather, fishing along a secluded riverbed. Four days after he was supposed to come home, a park ranger found a fishing rod—and four wrinkled fingers.

That caused a stir. But the investigation didn’t go anywhere. Bodies couldn’t be found, and no one was arrested.