The Hour of Dust and Ashes

Hank’s especially. But he was finally able to get a visual during a guard change. Hank is definitely in the grid.”

“Well, that’s good, right?” Marti asked. “No one can hurt him there. In a way, he’s safe at least.”

“And perhaps there’s a way to get him out safely,” Titus offered, thoughtfully. “From what you’ve said, Charlie, I think there is a clear difference in being forcibly taken from the grid versus breaking free on your own. Before, Hank’s mind was obviously not lost in the grid, it was a bit disconnected, right? That must’ve been what allowed him to retain his faculties and eventually escape the tower. But if Hank is completely connected and immersed, lost in the grid, if you will, we could be looking at the same kind of situation that happens to the other Malakim—”

“The only good thing is that the Circe are keeping Hank’s capture a secret, which should make extracting him easier for us. The less guards and obstacles in our way, the better,” I said.

“If the sirens of Fiallan knew the Circe had Hank; they’d definitely question his punishment, wouldn’t they?” Bryn asked. “Going into the grid is supposed to be an honor, not a punishment fit for their traitor.”

“Exactly. And we might be able to use that to shed light on the truth of those towers.” The Circe were taking a huge risk by putting Hank back into the grid. If the sirens were to find out who he was and that the grid was being used as a punishment, it might make them rethink the Malakim.

“So whatever the case, we should probably plan to carry Hank out,” Rex said. “Take a sling or something.”

“Another consideration,” Aaron began, “is causing a political incident. Relations between this world and the Elysians are good right now, but we must be careful of going in and thumbing our noses at their customs and laws. Not that I believe the Malakim practice is right by any stretch, but … we must get them to listen to us.” The door jingled.

“It’s more than simply rescuing him,” Aaron continued. “To prevent the sirens from continually hunting him, Hank needs to be exonerated. We need to prove his case against the towers and the Circe.”

“Well, maybe I can help with that.” The chief strode down the narrow aisle, his wide shoulders taking up much of the space. “A group of civil rights attorneys are headed to Federation Headquarters along with ITF representatives from Washington. Hank’s an ITF agent. A U.S. citizen. His record here speaks for itself. We might be able to get him released and sent back to us without having to step foot in Fiallan.”

Liz stepped out from behind the chief’s large form as he cleared the aisle. He’d completely hidden her from view. “Yeah,” she said, giving me a wink through her glasses. “Flex our legal muscle and see what happens.”/p>

I tried to smile, but was pretty sure it came out as a wince. I wasn’t as optimistic as the chief and Liz, and I didn’t have the kind of patience Aaron was talking about. While they wrangled over Hank and the truth of the towers, he’d be fighting the grid, losing himself little by little …

“Point is,” Bryn said to me, “we’re all here. We’re not going to accept what’s happened. We will get Hank out, Charlie.”

Faces smiled. Heads nodded. My throat thickened and I could only dip my head in thanks. The room grew quiet after that, minds turning and working …

“You know … this is just like that ‘Dora Saves the Prince’ episode.”

All eyes went to Rex.

“What? A guy can’t watch cartoons? You all try living as long as I have and see if you don’t start watching Nick Jr. at some point.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “What’s your point, Rex?”

“Well,” he grumbled, “it’s usually the princess in the tower and the prince charges off on his white horse to rescue her. So, you know …” He glared at Bryn, who was laughing under her breath. “Never mind.”

Bryn’s laugh grew louder. “So what are you, Rex, like Boots or something?”

He shot her a sarcastic look as Emma and Amanda burst through the stockroom door, pale and frazzled. “Did you see it? Did it come out here?”

Bryn’s expression went deadpan as the laughter died down. Her eyes narrowed. “Did what come out here?”

The guilt that slid over the girls’ features had me straightening in alarm. A small knock sounded. Something fell from one of the bookshelves that lined the main aisle. We all turned in unison.

A thin, ten-inch-tall mummy wrapped in faded linen strips waddled down the aisle, bumping into everything.

“Emma Kate Garrity.”

“Amanda Riley Mott.”

Marti and I spoke at the same time.

Bryn hurried from behind the counter, her skirt flying out behind her, her ankle bracelets tinkling. “You reanimated my pixie!” She dashed after the tiny thing.

Emma gave me a defensive look. “Well, I didn’t mean to.”

It only got worse as Brim and Gizmo appeared at the end of the aisle, eyes on the pixie. Drool dripped from Brim’s mouth. Oh no. Emma yelled at Brim. Bryn yelled at Gizmo, and chaos erupted as the pixie darted to the left and everyone started chasing …

The door jingled again, and I heard Sian’s yelp of surprise.

Aaron slid up next to me, leaning against the counter, humor glistening in those emerald eyes. “Never a dull moment with you Madigan women.”

I sighed heavily, watching the chaos unfold, and letting out a small laugh. “Welcome to my world, warlock.”

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to my family, friends, and readers. Your support and encouragement is nothing short of amazing and I appreciate it more than I can ever say.

I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Cynthia Cooke and Kris Kennedy, authors and friends who provided invaluable feedback in early drafts of this book and who helped me stay afloat when I felt like sinking. Thank you, ladies.

Thanks also to Miriam Kriss, Kameryn Long, my friends at Destination Debut, all the wonderful folks at Pocket Books, and my editor, Ed Schlesinger, for the guidance, the insight, and being an all-around fantastic person to work with. It’s truly an honor.

And to Jonathan, Audrey, and James. For everything.