Page 262
Story: City of Smoke and Brimstone
Max swam harder. The creatures flew faster.
White, blinding light drenched the block. Blazing brighter than the sun.
He hissed, hand flying over his burning eyes.
The monsters fled, their screams of pain cleaving the air.
As the area fell quiet. The light started to fade.
He tried to open his eyes, but they were burning so badly he had to keep them shut. He kept swimming, groping blindly for the ledge.
A strong hand clasped his. He got out, hauling Maya along with him.
“Thanks,” he gasped, not bothering to see who’d helped him out as he lay his sister flat on her back.
“Maya?” he panted.
No reply. He prepared to start chest compressions?—
She came to with a burst of phlegmy coughs. He turned her onto her side as she retched up a mouthful of water.
Footsteps clapped down the street. The others were heading this way.
And standing over him with a kind smile, her white wings tucked in tight, was a female hellseher, her hair a hip-length sheet of quicksilver, the ends dripping water onto the cobbles. Her cheekbone was marked with a small tattoo.
The white feather of Vita.
With her were two other winged hellsehers. One male, the other female, both brunette. Their cheekbones were inked with the same tattoo.
“Who are you?” Max rasped. But he no longer cared.
Because Travis was limping this way, his arm wrapped around Malakai’s waist. The Reaper looked like he was about to pass out.
Max wasn’t sure what surprised him more: the sight of Travis supporting most of Malakai’s weight, or the three Sylphen standing before him.
The female with the silver hair spoke, her voice as pleasant as wind chimes. “Your friends here ran into some trouble with a Harpy and a couple of Karkharias in the Below.”
Harpy? Karkharias? TheBelow?
What thehellhad happened?
“You must be Maximus Reacher,” she said. She offered him a hand. “My name is Raina Cruso. Head of the House of Violet.”
“I can’t believemy brother had the audacity to smash a beaker in your face, and youstillrisked your life to save his stupid ass.”
Travis couldn’t believe it, either. The prick hadn’t even said thank you, but it wasn’t like he had expected it. For someone like Malakai, who could hardly make it five minutes without saying something offensive, it was unrealistic to expect things like thank-yous or apologies. The closest he’d come to a thank-you was the night they’d shared a beer on Roman’s roof, but it seemed that was a one-off thing.
They were back in the boat. The city was darker now than before he’d gone Below, and there were thin sheets of ice floating in the canal that thunked against the boat as they pushed their way through, the engine working overtime. If the ice got any thicker, they wouldn’t be able to travel by canal again.
After Raina had rescued them from the Karkharias and slain the Harpy, then flown them up one by one, she’d introduced herself and explained what she and the two Darkslayers who were with her—Charlotte and Silas were their names—were doing in the Below.
They were looking for a way out. Checking to see if it were possible to slip under the forcefield if they went not just underground, but into a liminal space. Needless to say, their plan had unfortunately confirmed what Travis had already feared.
There was no way out.
They were running out of time—it was clearer now than before he’d gone Below. He swore he could feel Death’s cold breath wafting across the back of his neck. All he wanted was to talk to his brothers one more time. Talk to Darien and the other Devils before he died. Was it too much to ask? He knew he’d made a mistake by coming back to Yveswich in the first place, but being stuck here was a cruel punishment.
Max was steering the boat. Raina and the other two Sylphen were flying just ahead—guiding them. If it weren’t for Raina and that insane light power she’d used to drive away the monsters, both in the waters Below and at the canals, there was a good chance they’d all be dead right now. Any injuries were minor; even Maya, who’d crashed into the canal, was on her way to recovery, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She was cold and wet, yes, but she insisted she’d be okay once she got in front of a fireplace and fully dried off.
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