Eye of the Storm (34 page)

It's not my phone that alerts me to my brother's distress. He goes off like a supernova in my head, and I'm out the door of the conference room before Gryfflet can holler after me. I hear the distant bell of the ward line and don't stop to find out what's happening.

I take the back route downstairs, loping down four floors of stairs and out a side door of the Summit. Evis is to the southeast. The empty houses and car-covered streets blur by me as I run. I'm guided by nothing but the pain I feel from my brother. I can't tell if it's physical. I can't tell if it's emotional. I only feel it. It pulls me like a riptide.
 

The rank, stagnant scent of the world around me fills my nostrils. Damp concrete, already-rusting metal on cars — my skin moistens from the low-hanging clouds as I run.
 

It takes what feels like forever for Evis to grow closer.
 

When I see him, he's just inside the ward line. Carrick and Jax are with him, along with Sol and Luna who range east and west along the wards where the highway crosses over the road, never crossing that invisible line. There's blood everywhere, but my brother is alive. The gasp of relief that tears itself from my throat sounds inhuman.
 

Then I see what he's holding.
 

A torso, light brown skin and a planet tattoo. No head.
 

It's Saturn.
 

I hit my knees in the middle of the road. The impact of the asphalt jars my kneecaps. Jax lets loose a high, keening wail that sounds almost like the wards going off.
 

Carrick comes to me first, eschewing the shoulder touch to kneel and throw his arms around me. I stare over his shoulder, still unsure if I'm really seeing what I think I'm seeing. My entire body feels numb.

"They got Miles too," says Carrick in my ear. His breath feels hot against my neck, but it sends a shudder through me.
 

"I should have been here," I say. My voice comes out with a chill that dwarfs the cold of the December air. "I should have —"

"You couldn't have stopped it, Ayala," Carrick says. His arms pull me tighter. The asphalt must hurt his bare legs, but he doesn't show any discomfort. "None of us saw what happened."

"Was it Mediators?" I could tell for myself, but I can't bring myself to look closer. My eyes focus somewhere in the middle of my brother's shoulder. Jax is still crying, and in my mind I feel the bright heat of Sol and Luna as they pace, their speed of movement almost a run but fluid, prowling, ready.
 

"Hellkin," Carrick says.
 

I remember what Mason said, that Miles and Saturn were outside the ward line. I never told Mira. I'll have to tell her now. The thought drags a moan from me, and I slump forward against Carrick. The demons want me alive, and I don't know why. To torture me with the deaths of everyone I love? To force me to watch the world eaten alive? I want to find who did this to Saturn and Miles and make them pay.
 

The thought comes from Sol and Luna so quickly that it staggers me even though I'm kneeling. They show me the picture of demons diving through a hells-hole, of an imaginary me following them in.
 

They came to me from the sixth hell; I guess they would know it's possible. For them, at least. I shoulder the thought aside. To go into hell — this is something no one has ever done. And to do it to avenge two deaths in the face of apocalypse — no. I try to project some kind of gentle thanks to Sol and Luna. I'm not sure if it works.
 

I pull myself away from Carrick, allowing him to help me to my feet. With a stumbling walk, I make my way to Evis. Saturn's body is not quite cold, though he must have bled out before Evis picked him up, because Evis only has smears of blood on him and not spurts.
 

"Where's Miles?" I ask.

Slowly, Sol and Luna range toward us, with Jax coming closer finally until his leg brushes my shoulder where I sit.
 

"We only found his arm," Carrick tells me, his voice soft. "They must have taken the rest of him. When we got here, we pulled Saturn's body in."

The shades. They're the ones who pinged the wards. Which means I pinged them that day with Mira. Me.
 

There's no sign of Saturn's head.
 

"He was trying to make it back inside the wards," I say. I should call Alamea, tell her that the wards went off because of the shades. There could be Mediators coming this way. My brother and the others can't be here if that happens.

"I have to tell Mira," is what comes out of my mouth though, and it's those words that make tears spill over my cheeks.
 

Carrick takes my phone from my pocket. Dimly, I see him texting Alamea about the wards, asking her to call off the patrols. I didn't say it out loud, but maybe Carrick sensed it. Or maybe I did say it out loud too. My brain feels like mulch.

Evis touches my shoulder with a blood-smeared hand. "You should go back to the Summit," he says.
 

I don't know if he's right. I don't know if I care either way.
 

Carrick slips the phone back into my pocket. "You should. He's right. We'll stay inside the wards from here on out."

"I should have been there," I say again. My eyes search the road under the overpass as if they'll find some sort of clue to what happened to Saturn and Miles. "Where's Mason?"

"Here," he says from behind me. "I came as fast — I came as soon as I felt it."

From the surge of pain and love I feel in his voice, I wonder what he's talking about feeling. The scars on his face are pale in the drab daylight. Saturn was his friend too.
 

"I'll go back with you," Carrick says. "You need to go back."

"It's not safe for you there," I say automatically. Anxiety rises in my chest through the numbness, prickles that are as bizarrely welcome as they are uncomfortable.
 

"It's not safe for any of us anywhere," Mason says. "Let him."

I look around at the shades. They're all who's left. Sol. Luna. Mason. Carrick. Jax. Evis.
 

My brother's hand is still on my shoulder, and he squeezes. I turn and kiss the back of it, not caring that I could end up with blood on my lips. I both wish Mira were here and feel a surge of gladness that she's not. I know she would wish she were here, in that horrible way that makes you feel like your presence makes a difference when death has already stolen someone away. I should have been with Saturn and Miles when they died. I know Mira will feel the same way. I feel so many things at once as I struggle to my feet. Among them is gratitude that I was with Ripper, that he had a friend and family there with him when he went.
 

Leaving Evis and the others is hard, feels like leaving them behind rips something away from me. Carrick's presence beside me does some small bit to mitigate it, but even that warmth feels as sallow as the cloud-halted sunlight above.
 

"I am going to try and keep helping Gryfflet and Asher," Carrick says softly as we reach the Summit parking lot.
 

I meet Carrick's eyes, trying to remain wary of any movement of Mediators that could threaten him. "Do you trust Asher?" I ask suddenly.

That gives him pause. "She knows much more than she's told us, but I'm not sure that's a reason to distrust her. I overheard her speaking with one of the other Summit witches. They seemed to know each other, though the other witch was surprised to see Asher here and very surprised about the pregnancy. I'm not sure the Summit can trust Asher, but I think we can. I think she's on our side."

His assessment is intriguing. I nod and blink when the memory of Saturn's headless body intrudes again. I feel my body go still, and Carrick looks at me.
 

"Let's go inside," he says quietly.
 

The Mediators in the lobby stare unabashedly at Carrick, but he gives them no notice. As we climb the stairs, though, I see a slight slump in his shoulder that betrays the weariness he must feel. For him to know he's hated and still work to save these people — it's beyond what they feel for me. They grew up around me, most of them. Some of them, like Billy Bob and Sal, practically raised me. Carrick will never be more than a terrifying Other, a scapegoat, a scarcely-reined-in threat.
 

"You're kind of my hero," I murmur to him.
 

He hears me, I know he does, but he doesn't turn. Instead he reaches back a hand and pats me once on the shoulder. His aim is impeccable. Anyone else to try that probably would have smacked me in the tit.

Alamea's in her office with Sal and Billy Bob, and she looks surprised to see Carrick.
 

"Where's Mira?" I ask.
 

"I haven't seen her. She might have gone to Gryfflet's conference room with the witch."

I debate whether or not to tell the three of them about Saturn and Miles, and from Alamea's face, she can tell there's bad news.
 

"I have to tell her something, and I'd rather she hear it from me." I look at my feet, even though I can feel all eyes on me.
 

There's a heavy sigh from someone — Sal, I think — and I can almost hear Alamea nod.
 

"I'll tell her to come find you if I see her," says Alamea.
 

I thank her, and Carrick and I head up the stairs again. Gryfflet's conference room is the same wreck it has been. Probably more so. The walls are now covered in unintelligible scribbles. The timeline he started has been fleshed out, with bits circled and other timelines spawned above and below it. Asher and Gryfflet are at the head of the table, their heads together over a dusty stack of parchment. No Mira.

"I know you can't say, but gods, would it help if you could," Gryfflet is saying when we walk in. He looks up at me, then at Asher.
 

"It's okay," says Asher. "I think Ayala already figured it out."

Her face is wearing what I've come to see as a characteristic sheen of perspiration. Her hands roam over her large belly. I need to find Mira, and I open my mouth to ask Gryfflet if he's seen her, but his words stop me.

"Asher here is under a powerful gag spell," says Gryfflet.

"I know." Warring with myself for a moment, I nod to Carrick, and he closes the door to the conference room and coats it with the anti-eavesdropping dust. I'll have to look for Mira after I hear whatever it is Gryfflet wants to say. My ears pop, and I see Asher wiggle a finger in one of hers, squinting.
 

"I don't think you do," Gryfflet says. "She's probably the foremost expert on Summit history on the planet, but everything she says about it sounds hollow, as if there's a space behind it where something else is supposed to fit. But I can't get around her words. It's like…" The witch's face goes distant and almost slack. "Every syllable she says is true. I've checked the more obscure facts she's given me against the resources in the library. It all matches up."

Asher is silent, though her breathing comes faster, and her hands still on the bulge of her stomach.
 

"What are you saying, Gryfflet?" Carrick stands next to me, close enough for me to feel the heat of his body, which is welcome.

Gryfflet looks over Asher from head to toe, then makes eye contact with her, searching her face. She doesn't move, and I can see the drawn tension of the muscles in her cheeks and forehead from where I stand.

"It's like she believes everything she says is a lie, even though it's true as far as I can see. Like she's rattling off…" Gryfflet stops as if seeking out a very specific word.
 

"Multiplication tables or something?" I ask, trying to think of things someone might rattle off.

"Propaganda," Gryfflet says.
 

The room goes silent. Asher's breathing is heavy. She doesn't respond to what Gryfflet says. I don't think she can.
 

The sudden weight of everything Gryfflet's saying hits me. I struggle with the layers of it. Asher and my mother sought out Summit history wherever they could. They found holes in it. Things that were available to find, if anyone looked hard enough.
 

"You think she believes the Summit history you have is false," I say finally. It feels wrong talking about Asher like she's not here, but I don't think she's able to chime in on this conversation.

"She knows the history better than her own name, but it's like she's summarizing a fictional story, not stating historical facts." Gryfflet gestures at the walls around him, his voice low and urgent. "I don't know if we are going to be able to search deeper and find what we need if we're missing information."

There's a slight hitch in Gryfflet's breath before he says
we're
missing information,
like he can't bring himself to say out loud that there's a possibility we've been lied to our whole lives.
 

"How likely is it that we're missing information?" I ask, looking between Carrick, Gryfflet, and Asher.

"Almost certain that we're missing information," Carrick says dryly. "No one knows all of history. But if Asher believes that the entirety of what we know is a lie, we have to ask why she might think that. Logically, that would mean she's a conspiracy theorist, that she's had access to information we don't, or she's mad." After considering for a moment, Carrick adds, "Or she's got a vendetta against the Summit and distrusts it for other reasons."

For the first time, Asher's voice rings out with confidence. "The father of my baby? His name was Kelby."

A flash of alarm shoots through me. I immediately recognizing the name. Migs and Kelby were the two shades Gregor brainwashed alongside my brother to murder norms here in Nashville. My mouth falls open, and I try to find words to ask what the hell is going on.

There's a splash, like a water balloon hitting carpet.
 

Asher stares at me, liquid dripping between her legs. "Please trust me."