“I know you’re all going to say I’m just a weak human and all, but it has to be me. I’m the Paradox. I have to get the weapon,” I say.
The arguments trail off and the team all turn to look at me.
“I wouldn’t say you’re completely useless. You just killed a Krop none of us could kill,” Ya-Ya says.
“But we have no idea what’s in there. One lucky shot doesn’t mean she’s ready to face demons or hellfire, or who knows what,” Sunday says.
He gives me an apologetic look and I shrug. He’s right. I have to trust the team.
“So how about this? You guys draw straws or whatever, and whoever is unlucky gets to come with me. I’ll grab the box, you fight the hell creature,” I say.
“We’ll all go,” Grace says. “We’re a team. We do this together. If the danger is bad, then we might need the whole team. And if it’s something one of us can deal with, well that’s just a bonus.”
“Fine,” Rye says.
I realize that although he would have gone in there alone, the thought scared him. That notion scares me way more than any of his threats or warnings ever could. I feel my blood turn to ice in my veins.
“Ready?” Rye asks me.
I nod, although I’m anything but ready.
“Don’t let yourself get distracted. Trust us to keep you safe. Just concentrate on getting the box and getting back out, okay?”
I nod again. Rye takes a deep breath and steps through the orange glow. Instantly, he disappears.
“Rye,” I shout, panicked.
“Relax, Sailor. He’s only on the other side of the seal.” Jinx laughs.
He steps through next and I realize he’s right as he too disappears. Grace slips her hand into mine.
“Together,” she says.
I grip her hand a little too tightly and together, we step through the seal. The room is instantly alive with noise and movement. Silver shadows that look like they’re covered in ripped, ragged clothing fly through the air, ducking and swooping. They have heads, but no faces, just gaping holes where their eyes, noses, and mouths should be.
Jinx raises his hand but Grace stops him.
“There’s no point, Jinx. You can’t kill something that’s already dead.”
“Already dead?” I whisper.
The rest of the team is stepping through the seal as Grace turns to me.
“They’re Savior Spirits. But don’t be fooled by the name. They aren’t our saviors. They hunt for souls to take back to Hell. Each time they touch you, your soul blackens a little. This causes a drastic loss of life force. The strongest of the strong can withstand five touches before they are blasted to Hell. The average god, us, can withstand three touches. A mortal? One or two at the very most.”
“And we can’t kill them?” I clarify.
She shakes her head.
“No. But we can distract them so you can get to the box safely. And once we’re back outside of the seal, any parts of our soul they touch revert back to normal. It will leave us drained, but that’s nothing we can’t handle.”
The rest of the team is through now, and the Savior Spirits are starting to show an interest in us.
Grace raises her hands and I watch her frown with concentration, but I can’t see anything happening in the room. She drops her hands and gives a sheepish smile.
“I had to at least try to use my telekinesis to bring the box to us.” She shrugs.
“Sailor, go. Be as fast as you can,” Mel says.
I take a shaky step forward, and then another one. I begin to find a rhythm, ducking low, jumping and moving to one side or another. The Saviors swoop around me, a ghostly howl emanating from them. The closer they get, the colder I feel, but I try my best to ignore my racing heart and put my trust in the team.
I don’t know what they’re doing—I don’t risk looking back. I keep my focus on the box. Whatever they are doing is drawing the Saviors away from me, and I have a mostly clear path to the box. I reach it quickly and pick it up, suddenly afraid that it will be bolted down and I won’t be able to retrieve it.
I close my eyes and whisper, “Please work.” I pick the box up. It’s a little heavier than I expected, but it comes up easily. I’ve got it!
I turn around. The team is spread out along the hallway, an equal distance between each of them. They take it in turns to step forward, making noise and waving their arms until all of the Saviors focus on them. Then the next team member starts and draws them to them. I can see they’re taking hits though.
I begin to run back to them. I am so focused on reaching them that I don’t notice my body growing colder. An errant Spirit whooshes in from the side and I react too late. It reaches out with long talons. It scratches them across my side and my whole body is instantly cold and numb. My knees give way and I clatter to the ground, dropping the box.
The icy coldness begins to warm up, spreading a calming warmth through my body. If this is death, then bring it on, because it’s so comforting, so warm. I am vaguely aware of the team screaming my name, screaming for me to get up. I see flashes in front of my face… My dad. Loki. Grace. My mom. Rye.
I don’t want to leave them behind, but I am powerless to stop it as my muscles turn to lead. The warmth beckons to me, pulling me deeper.
“I told you she was fucking weak,” Aziza sneers.
Somehow, out of everything, her insult is what gets through to me. Freud would have a field day with that, but I don’t have time to debate it. The warmth is an illusion. I am cold, filled with despair. I can feel tears
