I flinched. Binding Oliver to someone else didn’t seem much better. But anyone was better than El Diablo, right?
Kismet’s eyes shone with tears. “Go easy on him,” she said. “It’s a difficult path he walks. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
“Thank you, Kismet,” I said quietly. “I’m indebted to you.”
I grabbed her and embraced her. She stiffened in my grasp but then relaxed, her arms wrapping around me. She smelled familiar but still foreign. Like a long lost childhood memory tainted by time and distance.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pulled away. “Be careful,” she whispered. Her face drained of color. “He’s summoning me. I have to go.”
Before I could object, Kismet pulled her dark hood over her face and flew out the door.
For a long time, I remained frozen in the pub, my mind an incoherent mess of sludge and pain. After a while, a loud explosion rumbled the ground beneath me, jolting me from my reverie. I burst out of the pub and hurried to the docks, staring wide-eyed at the bay.
Vizcaya had exploded. Debris and rubble lingered in the air. The charred remains of the ship floated in the water, a hulking mass of what had once been a grand vessel. Small boats surrounded the wreckage, no doubt filled with the Spanish who had escaped the explosion.
Cheers erupted around me along the dock. Nervous, I glanced at the American soldiers whooping and hollering. Though none of them looked at me, I still ducked my head, hoping not to draw their attention. My eyes raked around the docks and surrounding buildings as I searched for Kismet. But she was gone.
An icy chill rippled through my body, despite the heat of the summer sun blazing against my body. He’s summoning me, Kismet had said.
If El Diablo summoned her, then he probably summoned Oliver, too. What would he do to Oliver now that his plan had failed?
I looked down the street from where I’d come, but Oliver wasn’t there.
I clenched and unclenched my fists. Whatever anger or resentment I felt toward Oliver, I couldn’t just let him be enslaved by El Diablo.
Resolve solidified within my chest, and I sprinted down the street, weaving through American soldiers and peering through windows and alleys. Then I rushed back, darting down the side street and looking inside the pub we’d been in earlier. It was empty. I whirled around in panic, my eyes scanning the soldiers for a glimpse of his familiar blond hair.
“Oliver?” I shrieked.
A few soldiers turned to look at me curiously. My heart racing, I ran back toward the main street. A slice of pain seared through my side from my running. I glanced up and down the street again, palms sweaty and desperation cutting through me. He isn’t here.
I turned back to the pub and then toward the road. I raised my hands to my forehead, conflicted. Which way should I look?
I sprinted back to the pub and peered inside the window again, my eyes roving carefully over the dusty bar to ensure I wasn’t missing anything. Then I ran farther down the road, pausing at each shop until I noticed movement in one of the windows.
Alarm and fear raced through me as I burst inside. Oliver glanced at me, his jaw clenched and his eyes heavy with resignation and despair.
The wall next to him rippled.
“Oliver!” I screamed, stumbling toward him.
A hand reached out from within the wall. Oliver stiffened, his arms quivering in restraint. As if of its own accord, his arm snapped forward and caught Howard’s hand from the other side of the wall.
“Goodbye, Desi,” he whispered, his eyes moist.
“No!” I raced toward him as the wall solidified. My shoulder rammed against a solid wood wall, and pain coursed through my arm. I slammed my palms against the wall, but it remained solid and unyielding. I whacked the wall again and again and screamed in frustration.
“Oliver!”
Tears prickled the corners of my eyes. I gritted my teeth, determination flowing through me. I swallowed and took a deep, shaky breath. Oliver needed help, and I wasn’t enough. I needed to find Alba.
I hurried back to the main street, glancing around frantically for something familiar. Then I noticed the courthouse. Adrenaline coursed through me, and I sprinted toward it, weaving through buildings and streets until I found the red door. I plunged through it without preamble, my legs carrying me faster than I’d ever run before. Eerie sounds reached my ears—hissing, growling, moaning—but I ignored them, only running faster to avoid the demons lurking nearby. I didn’t have time to stop.
At last, I reached the restaurant and doubled over as breaths tore through my chest. I clutched at a stitch in my side, regretting not making exercise more of a priority in my life.
I pushed open the door and wheezed,
“Magic above . . . and powers that be . . .
Reveal what has . . . been hidden from me.”
The chairs and tables righted themselves, but the restaurant was empty.
My eyes widened. “No,” I whispered in horror. Where was everyone?
“Alba!” I shouted, hurrying into the kitchen.
It was empty. The weapons were gone, too. Had everyone already evacuated?
Footsteps echoed from the storage room.
“Thank Lilith,” I muttered, hurrying forward. “Alba, I—”
I froze as Elena emerged. Her forearm was heavily bandaged as she crossed her arms and scowled at me.
My heart stopped. “Where’s Alba?” I asked quietly.
“The coven has gone to meet with a member of the American Council,” she said, her tone icy.
“Well . . . why aren’t you with them?”
“Because Oliver went missing. Someone needed to remain behind in case he turned up.” She gestured to my ripped clothes and injuries. “What happened to you?”
“We were trapped by demons but we got away,” I said quickly, taking a step toward her. “Look, Elena, I know we have our differences, but Oliver’s in trouble. He—he’s been captured by El Diablo.”
Elena’s arms fell by her sides, her face wide with shock. “How do you know?”
“I saw a demon take him,” I said.
