We made it two-thirds through our route without incident, and I started feeling, dare I say it, confident.
Big mistake.
Huge.
That tiny spurt of optimism was all the encouragement required for doom to settle across the land.
As we exited the city, bound for the “refuge,” a yelp set my heart pounding.
“How much farther?” I leaned over Bishop’s shoulder. “Can we go any faster?”
“About three miles.” He coaxed a blip of speed out of the truck. “This is all I got.”
“Any faster,” Smythe worried, “and we’ll lose some.”
Another outcry caused my sweaty palms to slip off the seat. “We’ve got company moving in fast.”
No Remy magically appeared with an update, and One wasn’t answering her phone.
That couldn’t be good.
“There,” Bishop announced. “That’s where we’re headed.”
I’m not sure how I expected a roach sanctuary to look, let alone a fake one, but this was a gaping hole in the earth. Literally. It was a pit with a thick reddish-brown ring crusting the upper edge.
“What is that for?” Smythe wondered. “It’s rather large to be left open like that.”
“Time to unload.” Bishop slammed on the brakes. “Smythe, take your gear to the far side of the hole.”
I helped load him up, and he trotted off with Eustice at his heels. Bishop waited until the music picked up on Smythe’s end to kill the sound in the truck. I plopped down into the passenger seat and waited for Bishop’s grand plan to unfurl while Ambrose went to investigate the ring around the pit.
“Smythe lures them to him, they fall in the hole, and then we trap them in a circle and blow it sky high.”
As Bishop spelled it out, Ambrose relayed his surprise over discovering crystalized necromancer blood.
Linus was forever tinkering, as the modified pen burning a hole in my pocket attested to, but this was next level genius if it worked. Dangerous as hell if it fell into the wrong hands, depending on the power of the necromancer who donated the blood—in this case, likely him—but still an extremely cool example of the inner workings of his mind.
The crystals could prove invaluable for setting quick and dirty circles when relying on the modified pen or a brush and pot of ink would take too long. Dry granules would also work on uneven surfaces better than a wet medium. Assuming the desiccated form held as much power as the liquid.
“How do we get them in the hole?” I rubbed my forehead. “There’s nothing to stop them from just walking around the edge.”
“Hmm.” He drummed his fingers on the wheel. “I hadn’t gotten that far.”
“This was your whole plan?”
“Yes, this is my hole plan, and it’s a great plan,” he protested. “It’s not like I had long to improvise.”
We climbed out as the first roach rustled past, and I threw up in my mouth a little. The way they ignored us, and the truck, inspired me to attempt what might save or damn Bishop’s half-cocked idea.
“Smythe,” I called. “Throw your speakers into the pit.”
The little man blustered and clutched them to his chest, but he got with the program when a golden gwyllgi padded out of the woods with a snarl on his lips. Eustice took great offense to Midas, but he cowered once Ford and Ares flanked their beta.
“There.” He threw the equipment into the pit. “Are you satisfied?”
The music stuttered and then stopped, and so did my heart. The fall had not been kind to the speakers. I had no clue how deep the pit was, but Bishop didn’t do things by half. I should have thought of that, but I was squicked out and panicking.
About to suggest we fire up the truck and push it into the pit too, I sagged with relief when thin strains of music filtered into the night air, ensnaring the roaches.
“Get ready.” Bishop pointed me toward the circle. “You’re going to power that beauty.”
Ambrose, who couldn’t care less about our roach rodeo, shook his head firmly.
“You don’t get a vote,” I warned him under my breath. “We need you.”
The shadow was not impressed, but he didn’t push back, and I saw why soon enough.
A blonde with crimson highlights and lipstick to match picked her way across the rough terrain.
Even without a heads-up from Remy, I pegged her as coven.
Ambrose all but licked his lips, game to be helpful all of a sudden.
He must think I was an idiot. Granted, I had summoned him and bonded to him, so he had good reason to question my mental faculties, but come on. He wanted to spend every last drop of magic in him so he could replenish himself off her. That alone told me she wasn’t a person I wanted to tangle with if I could avoid it.
“That’s the last roach.” Bishop shoved me. “Go set the circle.”
The gwyllgi were closing in, one loner caught between them, but it leapt into the pit as I watched.
“I’ll hold off the witchborn as long as I can.” He shoved me again. “Move it.”
I broke into a run and yanked on Ambrose’s mental leash until he awarded me his full attention.
“Salivate later.” I held my hand over the circle. “Power up now.”
Crystalized blood wasn’t a medium I had ever worked with, but I assumed if Bishop had signed off on it, he had every confidence it would work.
“Any time now,” I growled at Ambrose. “We need these bugs contained.”
With great reluctance, he pushed magic into the circle. It snapped closed around the bugs, trapping them under a dome. I really hoped Bishop had thought to line the sides and bottom, or they could dig out before we got to the raging-inferno portion of his plan.
Wobbling as I stood, I shook my head to clear it. Ambrose hadn’t been playing. He supercharged the circle, which was good for
