“It’s okay,” I said, feeling those mountain-crushing arms hug me back, very gently. Raw pushed close, as well. Zee leaned against us, ears pressed flat against his head, eyes squeezed shut. Dek and Mal licked his brow.
I glanced up, found Tracker watching with all the sharp scrutiny of a hawk.
“Excuse me,” I said. “But we’re having a moment.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. He stepped onto a gnarled, massive tree root, balancing there on the balls of his feet, and looked back down at us.
“It’s good to have moments,” he said, with what could have been menace—or wistfulness. “Life is nothing without them.”
I don’t know how long we walked, but the light never changed, and neither did the forest. And even though I was here, with the ground solid beneath my feet—even though I had fallen through another door—it was still difficult to imagine that this was the maze. A forest as the crossroad between here and there: a place of possibilities that was a world unto itself.
“The Labyrinth reflects the heart of its god,” said Oturu, floating past me, tendrils of his hair stroking the deep, cavernous creases of tree bark, so large my hand could fit inside. I heard the high trill of a bird, but nothing answered that lonely call. “The god who is your father, Hunter.”
I felt uneasy hearing him say that. My father was something I still hadn’t dealt with. I didn’t know how. But that hadn’t stopped me from sending out a silent call to him from the first second I’d fallen into the Labyrinth. He hadn’t answered. But then, I almost didn’t expect him to. It was easier on me that way. Less disappointing.
“Did you ever meet him?” I asked.
Oturu tilted his chin toward me. His silence was long.
“We do not know,” he said; and then, very softly, “Our embrace made you afraid.”
I was wondering when he’d bring that up. “Who are they, inside you?”
His mouth tightened into a hard line. “We told you once, Hunter. We are the last of our kind.”
“Yes,” I said, gently. “I’m sorry. But what does that have to do with those creatures?”
“We are the last,” he repeated, and I realized he wasn’t just talking about himself. I stared, trying to make sense of it—but all I could think about were those hands and teeth on my skin. Lives, lost in darkness. Lives, hidden away. Who were they, and what? And how long had they been trapped inside the demon who floated beside me?
“But why are you . . . containing them?” I asked, confused—but also a little horrified.
“So they might live.” Oturu’s cloak flared, and I saw those faces and hands surging against the wall of darkness; fleeting glimpses, pressing out and receding. A gruesome dance. “Their worlds are gone. No others will sustain them. And so we are together, and together we hunt, and we are not alone.”
Not alone. My heart broke for him. For all of us. Not alone.
How fundamental that was beginning to seem. From Aetar to demon, to human—all of us suffered from being alone. Solitude was different. Meditative, even. But loneliness . . . that was the curse and killer.
Zee made a low, growling sound. He was perched on the side of a tree, claws digging in like hooks. Moments later, Tracker appeared.
“Come on,” he said. “There are dead demons up ahead.”
More Yorana, but this time they hadn’t died on another world. Their bodies had been tucked within the roots of a tree, half-covered in ferns. A quick burial, it seemed.
“Don’t go near them,” I told Tracker and Oturu. “They were sick.”
“Clearly.” Tracker kept a wide berth. “It’s been years since I’ve seen their kind. I’d almost forgotten what they looked like.”
“You fought them?”
“Briefly. The Wardens were created prior to the Reaper Kings being imprisoned on your ancestor. The Yorana were difficult because they could charm, make you feel relaxed, sluggish, with just a look. It was easier to kill them from a distance.”
“Does this mean Grant is close?” I asked Zee.
Raw crept near the bodies, and his lips peeled back with disgust. Aaz prowled on the other side, head tilted, ears slick against his head. He made a chittering sound. Zee glanced at him and shook his head. “Old dead, not new. We came fast, but time already stretched. Week, maybe two, for Grant.”
“A week ahead of us? Or two?” What a horrifying thought. I stared out at the forest, which was not a forest—hoping by some miracle I’d catch a glimpse of him.
And I did. Only it wasn’t him. I saw movement far from us, between the trees. Only for a split second, but it was human-shaped, and that was alarming. Especially because it wasn’t shaped like my husband. I’d know his shoulders anywhere.