keeping me upright, it wasn’t such a great risk. “You’ll slay us all with your soul blade? Or head to the tunnels yourself with the Tulpa needing you alive and Warren wanting you dead? And do it all without backup?”
They wouldn’t go with me?
“Don’t you understand? We have to hurry,” I whispered, eyes wide. “Or I’m going to have to save him too.”
No one answered.
For a moment I considered running. It was how I used to move through the world . . . barreling forward with weapons and fists cocked, righteous determination flattening everything in my path. But Vincent was right. The Tulpa, the Light—agents on both sides—were all looking for me. I couldn’t afford recklessness. Not with Hunter’s life at risk. And now Carlos’s. Not, I thought, with a child growing in my belly, a fact I was finding harder and harder to ignore.
So, clenching my jaw, I tried reasoning with the grays again. “Look, the Tulpa has sent three of his most valued Shadow agents into that world and none have returned! They can’t . . . and Carlos will be no different. We have to stop him.”
“Stop Carlos?” Fletcher shook his head, and turned away.
“He knows what he’s getting into,” Milo said, but he didn’t sound so sure. He could sense my rising panic, they all could. They knew I’d seen things in that magical underworld that they could never imagine, so I let the scent of my emotions erupt from my pores like a volcano. I entertained the thought of Carlos burning, his soul enslaved, sliced to bits, his body discarded once fully relieved of that precious fuel. Worse, I actually allowed myself to think that Hunter might already be gone, and I just didn’t know it. Even I almost scented my anguish.
And still nobody moved.
I was about to start screaming when another thought stilled me as well. Someone else could help me get to Midheaven. She’d done so before, I thought, biting my lip. It was unusual . . . and dangerous, but it could be done. Besides, there was no choice. Carlos would perish quickly over there, and so would Hunter—if he hadn’t already—once Solange learned about us—and our baby. How ironic that in trying to keep me safe, Carlos had actually thrown me upon Midheaven’s doorstep.
Sheathing my blade, I stalked toward Vincent. “Take me to Io.”
I ’d recovered enough from my shock by the time we reached the bunker to apologize to the other grays for my angry outburst, and thank Vincent for gallantly helping me back. Biting the hand that fed was one thing. Biting the only helping hand offered you was just plain stupid. Yet instead of heading directly for Io, I returned to my room one last time. I was still going to see the cell’s unofficial den mother. I simply had to arm myself first.
Pulling my short, dark hair back into a slick club, I inserted my razor-sharp chopsticks into the blunt ponytail, even though I knew they probably wouldn’t make the transition into Midheaven. Weapons made outside that world, conduit or mortal, never did. My clothes were already tightly fitted, hugging the smooth S-curves that had been sculpted onto my boyish frame in order to turn me into my younger, more voluptuous sister. The cover, like my mother’s, had worked wonderfully for a while. No one looked at an airheaded debutante and expected to see a sharp mind, never mind honed edges.
Though I wasn’t as comfortable in soft, round flesh as I’d been with my own stronger, leaner lines, I hadn’t bothered to alter them yet. My body was going to change yet again with the life growing inside it. Besides, the latent strength that was me was still underneath, and always would be, no matter what I looked like on the outside. I knew that now.
After donning the kundans from my mother’s toolbox, I took a moment to meet my own gaze in the mirror, mind-blanking in a way I hadn’t since I’d begun hiding in this bunker. For some reason it gave me confidence. I didn’t look as worried as I felt.
They wouldn’t go with me?
“Don’t you understand? We have to hurry,” I whispered, eyes wide. “Or I’m going to have to save him too.”
No one answered.
For a moment I considered running. It was how I used to move through the world . . . barreling forward with weapons and fists cocked, righteous determination flattening everything in my path. But Vincent was right. The Tulpa, the Light—agents on both sides—were all looking for me. I couldn’t afford recklessness. Not with Hunter’s life at risk. And now Carlos’s. Not, I thought, with a child growing in my belly, a fact I was finding harder and harder to ignore.
So, clenching my jaw, I tried reasoning with the grays again. “Look, the Tulpa has sent three of his most valued Shadow agents into that world and none have returned! They can’t . . . and Carlos will be no different. We have to stop him.”
“Stop Carlos?” Fletcher shook his head, and turned away.
“He knows what he’s getting into,” Milo said, but he didn’t sound so sure. He could sense my rising panic, they all could. They knew I’d seen things in that magical underworld that they could never imagine, so I let the scent of my emotions erupt from my pores like a volcano. I entertained the thought of Carlos burning, his soul enslaved, sliced to bits, his body discarded once fully relieved of that precious fuel. Worse, I actually allowed myself to think that Hunter might already be gone, and I just didn’t know it. Even I almost scented my anguish.
And still nobody moved.
I was about to start screaming when another thought stilled me as well. Someone else could help me get to Midheaven. She’d done so before, I thought, biting my lip. It was unusual . . . and dangerous, but it could be done. Besides, there was no choice. Carlos would perish quickly over there, and so would Hunter—if he hadn’t already—once Solange learned about us—and our baby. How ironic that in trying to keep me safe, Carlos had actually thrown me upon Midheaven’s doorstep.
Sheathing my blade, I stalked toward Vincent. “Take me to Io.”
I ’d recovered enough from my shock by the time we reached the bunker to apologize to the other grays for my angry outburst, and thank Vincent for gallantly helping me back. Biting the hand that fed was one thing. Biting the only helping hand offered you was just plain stupid. Yet instead of heading directly for Io, I returned to my room one last time. I was still going to see the cell’s unofficial den mother. I simply had to arm myself first.
Pulling my short, dark hair back into a slick club, I inserted my razor-sharp chopsticks into the blunt ponytail, even though I knew they probably wouldn’t make the transition into Midheaven. Weapons made outside that world, conduit or mortal, never did. My clothes were already tightly fitted, hugging the smooth S-curves that had been sculpted onto my boyish frame in order to turn me into my younger, more voluptuous sister. The cover, like my mother’s, had worked wonderfully for a while. No one looked at an airheaded debutante and expected to see a sharp mind, never mind honed edges.
Though I wasn’t as comfortable in soft, round flesh as I’d been with my own stronger, leaner lines, I hadn’t bothered to alter them yet. My body was going to change yet again with the life growing inside it. Besides, the latent strength that was me was still underneath, and always would be, no matter what I looked like on the outside. I knew that now.
After donning the kundans from my mother’s toolbox, I took a moment to meet my own gaze in the mirror, mind-blanking in a way I hadn’t since I’d begun hiding in this bunker. For some reason it gave me confidence. I didn’t look as worried as I felt.
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