The imprisoned essences, enraged at their captivity and pulsing with pain, lashed out at Tav and Cam, again and again, mechanical claws and teeth leaving maps of revenge in blood.
The mechanical warriors were playing with them, Tav realized, like a cat plays with a mouse. They didn’t want a fast kill, they wanted a long, slow torture. They wanted to draw out their revenge, to punish a world that allowed them to hurt and this human to thrive. They wanted to savour every moment of this half freedom, the same half freedom Eli had shared when she was a shadow assassin, a made-thing allowed to roam the human world; allowed pinches of freedom measured out with breaths and seconds and snowflakes falling on frozen soil. Eli had told them enough, on those late nights when the moon was masked by clouds and a strange moodiness made her willing to talk.
No, this fight would not be quick.
Every second they took to tear Tav to shreds was a moment where these creatures did not have to linger in the dungeons under the Coven where the heavy walls swallowed their screams.
They turned their head in time to see Eli devouring the final piece of essence-infused metal. Fear sparked through their body like an electrical shock. Please don’t die on me, they thought.
A growl pulled them away from the made-girl, and they barely dodged the wicked claws in time. There wasn’t time to worry about Eli. These creatures may not plan to kill Tav fast, but they would maim them if they got a chance.
“We have to go on the offensive,” they said to Cam. “I don’t know how long the Vortex will stay like this.”
Cam brushed a shattered stone from his chest and nodded. “I’ll cover you.”
The next time one of the creatures attacked, Tav was ready. Instead of drawing away, they moved forward to meet it, forcing the knife through the casing and into the very essence of the broken witch inside the metal husk.
Behind them, they heard the enraged yowls of the other two and the sound of stone and metal being rammed into each other. Cam was protecting them from the other attack. Tav wondered how long he could hold out — even granite could break. Even stones could be ground into sand, and underneath each stone was fragile human skin.
They had to make this fast.
Pulling the blade out of the swirling, furious, fiery mass, Tav brought it back down again and again. Tendrils of essence splashed over their body, burning their skin and sending the smell of charred flesh and metal into the air.
The black-and-gold light went out.
Tav had killed one of metal monsters.
They turned around in time to see Eli appear from inside one of the creatures, metal flying like shrapnel. Cam’s blade went up just in time to deflect a piece of ragged metal from slicing Tav’s face.
“Thanks,” they said, voice shaking. “Although I think I’d look badass with a scar.”
“I’ll remember that for next time,” he said, smiling through the sweat and dirt.
The remains of the four creatures littered the asphalt like junkyard scraps.
They had survived the attack.
Why didn’t Tav feel victorious?
Instead, they felt the sucking pull of remorse. These creatures had lived, had felt pain, had been hurt by their own people, and had died in a place that was far from home. The unfairness of it all swept through Tav like a crashing ocean wave, rising again in a sense of righteous anger at the Witch Lord who had turned them all into killers.
“Eli!” Tav pointed the obsidian blade at the assassin. Eli looked up from the corpse of one body, wild-eyed and grinning. “We need the Heart.”
The grin vanished. She nodded and climbed over the debris to reach them. Tav pressed the blade into her hand. “We can do this,” they said.
Eli pressed her forehead against Tav’s, one hand going to her chest, where the Heart began to glow. Soon, her entire body was bright with white fire. Tav, too, started glowing. They were bathed in light, they were invincible, and the rain now felt like a loving touch from a planet that recognized their sacrifice. Nothing could hurt them anymore. Nothing.
Tav focused on the rift, on the first and greatest tear between worlds. Not to close it, but to make it a doorway. They reached out with their mind, mapping the smooth edges of a wound that had been open so long that it had healed that way. This would be harder to heal, but with the power of the Heart, they could do it.
Closing their eyes, breathing life into their own magic, they channelled the power of the Heart that was willingly offered. They could feel the edges of the Vortex start to shiver, to respond to them. Then it began to change, to shift into something else, something full of colour and life. Something with twisting, tangled vines and pink flowers, feathers and chains and plastic and balloon animals — all of the things from both worlds coming together to make one meeting point of power.
Tav’s breath caught in their chest. It was working.
A sharp ache interrupted the flow of magic, which stuttered and slowed. Tav could feel the vines and chemicals and organic and inorganic tapestry start to retreat, turning back to scar tissue. They pushed harder.
Another pain, the shock of separation, and Tav found themselves torn apart from Eli, from the Heart, from the power they needed. They looked up, and saw the Vortex was widening again, a gash in the sky.
“What —?”
A hand gripped their arm.
It was Cam.
“They’re here.”
Twenty-Two
THE HEIR
Kite picked up the rose petal. “My apologies,” she said, and set it back in against the wall. A moment later, it was covered in a protective shield of leaves. “Wait here,” she said. “We’ll find you.”
Glowing bluegreen, hair dancing around her face, Kite flowed down the green chamber, which she saw now was one of the arteries of the Coven. The farther she went,
