Rocks and debris rained down as Pryce made his way up the incline. I didn’t need a lamp because my demon mark still burned with its own fire. As long as I didn’t try to put it out, it didn’t burn me. Ahead, Cysgod snatched up junk from the floor and tore chunks of rock from the walls to throw at me. I dodged them as I climbed, but I still got hit in the face, the shoulders, the chest. I barely felt the blows.
Pryce reached the top of the tunnel and disappeared into the upper cavern. Two seconds later, a yelp of pain echoed.
I emerged from the tunnel and saw Kane sitting on the cavern floor, holding his dagger and looking dazed. Pryce was already almost to the next tunnel.
I paused beside him. “Are you okay?”
“I think I winged him,” Kane said. His eyes widened when he saw my flaming arm, but he didn’t ask. “Something just … swatted me away.”
Cysgod. Kane’s a solid two hundred pounds, but the shadow demon was huge. Kane got to his feet, rubbing his jaw. Across the cavern, Pryce climbed over the pile of slate at the entry to the tunnel that led back to the surface. Kane started after him.
“Mab’s hurt,” I said. “She needs help. She’s in the cavern at the bottom of that steep tunnel. When you get to the bottom, turn left. She’s by the wall.”
I don’t know why I lied. Maybe I couldn’t face the fact that Mab was dead. Maybe I couldn’t bear the thought of her body lying alone in that cold, dark, underground tomb. Maybe I wanted to kill Pryce myself, with no help from anyone. Maybe all of the above. I pushed past Kane and ran after Pryce. I didn’t hear any footsteps behind me, so I knew Kane had gone the other way. Good. He’d watch over Mab’s body until I could get back to her.
I slipped and fell once on the wet slate, but I was up and running again a second after I’d hit the ground. I clambered over the slate pile on my hands and knees, then sped up the incline in a crouching run. I couldn’t see Pryce or Cysgod, and no hunks of slate or rusty pickaxes came flying at my head. I was too far behind. I went faster.
Then, before I knew it, I was outside. There was no proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, just tight walls giving way to open space. If anything, it was darker out here than inside the mine. It should have been twilight still—how long had we been underground? I looked skyward and saw why it had grown midnight-dark. Overhead, thousands of crows flew. More than that—tens of thousands. They circled silently, as if waiting for something.
I couldn’t go back for it now. If the Morfran attacked, I’d never make it as far as the first cavern. I’d rather get to Pryce and kill him before the third phase blew me to pieces.
Flame continued to spout from my demon mark. I held my arm high, like a torch, so it cast light ahead of me, bathing the night in a red glow. I went forward, listening for the cawing that would escalate to a scream before the Morfran attacked, waiting for the buzzing to start in my head. The crows circled and circled, but they didn’t make a sound. Another step, then two more. Nothing changed. I proceeded toward the center of the gravel yard, toward the hub of the circle traced by the crows’ flight. I went cautiously, tense and alert, watching for an ambush. In the mine, Pryce had run away. Why hadn’t he attacked? Because he’d be in a better position to strike here, with Cysgod and this huge mass of Morfran as his troops.
I passed the Land Rover and glanced inside. Jenkins lay facedown, his body wedged behind the front seats.
The yard appeared deserted. If not for the massive flock of crows circling overhead, I’d have thought Pryce was long gone.
“Pryce!” I shouted. “Quit hiding, damn you. Let’s end this now.”
Fire sprang up in the center of the yard. Its flames glowed bright red, the shade of fresh blood. Pryce stood in the center of the conflagration, Cysgod towering behind him. Crimson light splashed across Pryce, illuminating his human features with a demonic glow. Cysgod’s figure was opaque, sucking in whatever light touched it.
I raised my sword and ran at them, bellowing a furious war cry. I struck, but my sword bounced off the flames like they were made of iron, wrenching my arm at the shoulder. Pryce laughed. I hated his laugh.
“Nothing ends tonight, cousin. Unless we’re talking about Mab, of course. Poor old dear, eh? Thanks for helping me send her to her destiny.”
I struck at the fire—four, five, six times—hacking and stabbing as though I could bash my way through. The flames didn’t flicker; my sword couldn’t penetrate them.
I stopped, panting, holding my sword at the ready in case Pryce’s protection failed.
“I’d never hurt Mab.” As I said the words, I remembered how she’d stared at me, at the flame that burst from my arm when I slipped into the demon plane. She’d warned me, and I’d ignored her warning. Pryce was right: It was my fault. Again. I’d given Cysgod the opening to strike Mab down.
“That’s two of your relatives you’ve killed now, isn’t it? Mab and your father. Are you certain you’re Cerddorion? It’s like you’ve been on my side all along.” Each word punched me like a fist. When the sword fell from my hand, I barely noticed. Pryce sneered. “Welcome to Hell, cousin.”
The flames blazed up. I staggered back, shielding my eyes. Pryce’s human form grew taller and taller, until it reached Cysgod’s height. The two forms melted into each other, blending into a huge, hideous demon gleaming with bloody light. The demon blew me a kiss.
An explosion blasted out, hurling me backward through the air. I slammed into the Land Rover and slid to the ground, blinded by the brilliant flash and deaf to everything except the echo of demonic laughter.
29
SOMEONE WAS SHAKING MY SHOULDER. IT HURT. IT FELT LIKE all my bones, broken into inch-long fragments, were rattling around in a burlap bag.
“Miss Vicky?”
I swatted at the hand that insisted on rattling my poor bones.
“Miss Vicky! Thank God! Where’s Miss Mab and your gentleman friend?”
I peeled my eyelids back to a squint—it was the most I could manage—and saw Jenkins’s anxious face inches from my own.
“You’re alive,” I said.
“Me? ’Course I am. Soon as them crows started flying out of the mine—looked like smoke from a seven-alarm fire, they did—I hid in the Land Rover. They’re all gone now, thank God. Disappeared with that explosion.”
Gravel bit my palms as I sat up. I checked my arm—the demon mark no longer burned—and looked up. Jenkins was right; the sky was clear. A waning gibbous moon hung in the east, casting silvery light over the landscape. Across the sky, stars winked and sparkled. Somewhere, people were calling this a beautiful night. But not here. Not in Hell.
Jenkins shook my shoulder again. “Where’s Miss Mab? What did that Pryce mean, what he said about her?”
Jenkins’s face was taut with worry, his eyes afraid. I closed my own eyes to keep the tears from spilling over. Jenkins and Rose had been with Mab for so many years, humans who lived with and accepted the family’s strangeness—and, yes, even managed to love us. How could I tell him Mab was dead? Especially when it was because of me.
I couldn’t say the words. I couldn’t.
Closing my eyes didn’t help. The tears escaped, anyway. I buried my face in my hands and sobbed.
“Oh, dear Lord.” Jenkins’s hand tightened on my shoulder.
I had to pull myself together. Jenkins deserved to know what happened, that Mab had fought well and died bravely. And I had to go back and help Kane carry out her body.
“Jenkins …” I began, opening my eyes.
But he wasn’t looking at me. He stared at the entrance to the mine.
