Labyrinth of Stars(87)

It’ll be terrible, I thought. This won’t end well.

If I’d ever been certain of anything, it was that. My sense of foreboding had only gotten worse—a darkening dread that felt the same as memory, as if I’d already seen something terrible, and it was lodged inside me. I’d never felt that way before. Maybe it was just nerves, but I was afraid it was something else.

I was afraid Zee was right. We wouldn’t be back here. Not like this. Not ever again.

I looked at my mother’s grave, at my grandmother buried beside her. I stared and stared, wishing I could have stayed a child forever, that I could be a child again—a do-over, only this time I wouldn’t take for granted what I had. I’d appreciate my mother and her sacrifices. I’d throw away all the resentment that had plagued me as a teen.

I’d be a better daughter.

“Just bones,” Zee rasped, threading his claws through my fingers, holding my hand. Raw and Aaz leaned against me, dragging teddy bears from the shadows. Dek and Mal made a mournful sound, and began singing a very sad version of “On the Road Again.”

“Just bones,” I agreed quietly. “But you know it’s more than that.”

Zee rubbed his sharp little cheek against my hand. “Still have us.”

I swallowed hard. “Always.”

Tracker made a rude sound. “I have no idea what we’re supposed to be killing, but if I have to watch one more second of this shit, I’ll murder myself.”

Oturu yanked so hard on the man’s collar, he fell to his knees. For once, I didn’t protest. “Besides Grant, we’re also hunting an Aetar. A powerful one. Goes by the name of the Devourer.”

Tracker started. “Are you out of your mind?”

I ignored him. “Please,” I said to Oturu, holding up my right hand, with its armor gleaming.

Tendrils of his hair slid around my forearm, caressing that rippling, silver artifact. “You are a daughter of the Labyrinth,” he replied, softly, as the bottom half of his face began to glow, as though bathed in moonlight. “You have your birthrights.”

I stared at him. “I don’t know what that means.”

Tracker grunted, grim and mocking amusement in his eyes. Zee rasped, “Means you want it, and door will open.”

What I wanted was Grant, safe. I closed my eyes, focusing on him, on my need. It wasn’t like opening the void to hop from place to place—another mystery, as yet unexplainable. This, instead, felt bigger. A wider leap. I could feel a wall just beyond my thoughts, a barrier that I pushed against, and kept pushing.

I thought of my mother—then Grant—and imagined a door.

A door that opened.



WHEN I could see again, I found myself in a forest.

I was sprawled on my stomach. Moss cradled my body, and a snail oozed past my nose, less than an inch away. I glimpsed a massive fallen log, bursting with ferns and twisted saplings, and when I turned my head, just slightly, I was confronted with the base of a tree trunk so immense I could not see the end of it from where I lay. I was lost in roots the size of minivans, and the canopy was a distant cloud of green, far above my head.

There are mysteries, and there are mysteries, and it’s all a bit like porn—you know it when you see it, and your mileage may vary.

For me, there was no confusion about the Labyrinth. I didn’t know what the hell it was. I’d been in it before but never by intent—and then, only for such brief moments, I still wasn’t sure what I’d seen or done. If, even, it had all been just a dream.

This felt like a dream.

It was not dark—not exactly—but there was no bright sun to be glimpsed, either. An odd twilight, caught in shades of silver and heather. The boys were scattered around me, despite the light. I kissed Dek’s little cheek, then Mal, hugging them close. Their purrs were quiet, a bit broken and uncertain. Zee perched on a root, staring into the distance—while Raw and Aaz climbed the tree beside me. Teddy-bear backpacks, the kind small children wore, were strapped to their backs.

I tried to stand. Took several attempts—my legs were weak—but I managed to grab hold of a massive root structure and haul myself up. I glimpsed more trees—scattered and impossibly massive—an endless number of them disappearing into the shadows. I craned my neck and still couldn’t see the top.

I tried to find Tracker. Glimpsed movement, but when I looked up again, all I saw were dark birds, winging silently above my head. Ravens, perhaps. A soft breeze lifted my hair.

“The Labyrinth has no wind,” said Tracker, just behind me.

I managed not to flinch. “Then what did I just feel?”

“Wind from another world.” He scrabbled on top of the root and perched there like a hawk. “Stolen through open doors. Same with the birds, or any life you find here. None of it is native.”