Labyrinth of Stars(92)

The unicorn inclined her head. Hunter.

Her voice was soft inside my thoughts. I stared a moment longer, then pulled my gaze to Jack.

My grandfather hadn’t stopped playing when I ran into the clearing. His eyes met mine, briefly—before he closed them and turned his head. I bit my tongue. I bit it so hard I tasted blood and waited for the song to end. Around me, the boys gathered, crouched in the shadows, red eyes glittering.

The last note trailed away. In the silence, I said, “That’s Grant’s flute.”

“Yes.” Jack hefted the instrument in his hands, a bitter smile playing against his mouth. “He left it.”

“Bullshit,” I said. “For him, it’s a weapon.”

“He needs few weapons now,” replied my grandfather, unmoving from his perch. “I knew you would come, Maxine. But I wish you hadn’t.”

“No one gets what they want.” I stepped forward and felt a tingle run down my spine. I was better now at spotting the entrances to other worlds, and there was one in front of me—a haze that was stronger, heavier, than other doors I’d encountered, and one that carried a sparkle—dusting motes of light. It didn’t look or feel threatening—there was no warning sign. Just a tingle of cold dread, a strange and awful premonition.

Reconsider your actions, said Sarai, and there was no longer anything soft about that voice pushing through my mind. Jack has apprised me of what has happened on your world. This is not the answer.

“Then what is? Let everyone die?” I moved closer but stayed out of reach of her horn. “Why are you here, Sarai?”

A snort flared those delicate nostrils. Jack said, “She’s the only one brave enough to meet you in the flesh. Most of the other Aetar are convinced you’ll try to kill them.”

“You told them I was coming.”

We felt you inside the Labyrinth. Sarai tilted her head, staring at me with those bottomless eyes. We felt the Lightbringer and the demons. The Labyrinth is a tuning fork of energy, Hunter. One ripple, and it affects all who reside in the forest.

“I’m surprised you didn’t try to kill Grant.”

Jack looked down. “That is still the question, my dear. Your presence here just might trigger our own civil war. Long-brewing, I might add. Those who are done with the killing, who regret our brutality all those eons ago—”

—against those who would do it all again, and happily. Sarai stood, an impossibly graceful unfolding that seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. We cannot afford such a battle. We are too few. Too many innocents would be killed.

“Same tired argument,” Jack said in a sour voice. “It saves us the trouble of having to confront who we have become. Of course, once the others realize where you’ve come—what you intend to do—it will be a moot point. Even those who would let you and your family live would kill to stop this.”

I held up my hand. “Where is my husband?”

“Where do you think?” Jack rubbed his face, looking weary. “I couldn’t bring myself to go in after him. Which shows you the limits of my courage.”

“You hoped I would arrive to be brave for you?”

“I hoped you would never come at all. Sometimes bravery is doing nothing. Giving up the man you love for the greater good would have been such an act.”

Old Wolf, Sarai admonished. But his words rolled right off me.

“The Devourer is in there, isn’t he?” I said. “On the other side of that door, in the world where you trapped him.”

“It’s not a world. More of a foyer, per se,” Jack replied. “But yes. And Grant went through with his demons. And his demons.”

I gave him a cold look. “Watch it, Grandpa.”

Jack grunted, glancing from me to Tracker—who appeared around a hairy, giant fern that could have sheltered a small family from the rain if there’d been any. Oturu, curiously, did not make an appearance. Now that I thought about it, he’d never shown himself to anyone but the boys and me. And Tracker.

“You,” said Jack.

“Apparently,” replied Tracker.

“You know what awaits her?”

“I do. Any last words before we all die horribly?”

“Shut up,” I said, and made toward the door.

I didn’t think Jack could move that fast. One moment he was seated on that root—and in the next he stood in front of me, grabbing my arm and trying to pull me away. Zee hissed. Dek and Mal puffed flame at his face, but that didn’t slow him down.

I tried to twist free without hurting him, but it was impossible; his grip was like steel. Tracker drew close, expression inscrutable, but the old man was not so composed; the strong lines of his face showed the ravages of terrible distress, and his cheeks were flushed.