Page 301

Her father sat beside her in the back of Darien’s car, staring out at the Blood Moon that was washing the city with crimson light, no forcefield to block it. Soon, these streets would be teeming with bloodthirsty monsters, and with no magic spells over the buildings, countless lives would be lost. Deadbolts and barred windows might deter thieves, but that was where the protection they offered stopped, the creatures of the Blood Moon far too strong to be kept out.

Loren stared at the cristala of the Control Tower a handful of blocks northwest, beyond the Avenue of the Scarlet Star. It was dark and quiet, no more than a useless decoration now.

“Dad,” Loren croaked.

He instantly turned to face her, clasping her cold hand that was resting on the seat between them, his wrinkled fingers warming hers.

Loren tried to swallow, but her throat was dry, even after the three juice boxes she’d gulped down. Since they’d started dating, Darien always kept juice boxes in the trunk. “What color magic runs through the Control Tower?” she whispered.

“It is not just one color, Loren, it is every c-color. It siphons magic from the anima mundi.” The anima mundi—what she was made out of.

“Mortifer,” Loren said. The Hob looked up at her from where he had slid himself into the pocket in the back of the passenger seat. “I need you to start this car for me. I know you can.”

Erasmus tightened his hold on her hand. “What’s going on, Loren? What are you p-planning?”

“I need to get to the tower.”

He didn’t let go, and soon Mortifer was clambering out of the seat pocket and pulling on her leg, little bleating noises floating from his mouth.

“Loren, I can’t let you do that.” Erasmus’s tone was pleading. “Darien s-said—”

“I don’t care what he said,” she interrupted gently. “I am the only person who can bring the forcefield back up, and if I don’t—”

The ravenous baying and yips of the creatures of the Blood Moon rippled through the night.

They were here. They had made it all the way into the heart of the city, some of them having crept past the Fleet soldiers. There were far too many for the Darkslayers to handle, who were being thrown to the wolves by the powerful demons pushing at the rip into Spirit Terra.

And there was still no sign of Maximus and the others. No sign of the Moonstone that Arthur believed would help them stitch the rip in the Veil shut.

“I’m going,” she said. “Whether you help me or not.”

To her surprise, her father let go of her. Loren felt uneasy at the thought of leaving the only vehicle in the whole city that was protected from outside forces, thanks to Mortifer’s powerful magic, but she had to do something. She had to help them hold the line, or they might not make it through the night.

Erasmus gestured to the front seats. “Better hurry. We don’t have much time.”

Loren got up and shimmied through the front seats, Mortifer hanging from her ankle.

“Have you ever driven a car before?” Erasmus asked.

“A couple times.” Loren grunted as she slid into the driver’s seat. “A few years ago.” She found the lever on the side of the seat and slid it forward and up until it felt comfortable. The thought of Darien trying to get back in his car only to find that he couldn’t fit made her smile.

“Do you want me to drive?”

“Heck no,” she breathed, fingers skimming the steering wheel. “I’ve wanted to drive this thing since the first time I saw it.” She’d never asked Darien if she could drive it. It was his baby, and she enjoyed seeing him rip it around the city. She thought it might have something to do with the way his hands looked while gripping the wheel and gearshift. Then again, there wasn’t a thing he did that she didn’t find incredibly sexy.

The engine growled to a start. The only car in the city that could run, thanks to the little critter now sitting on the passenger’s seat, ducklike feet kicked out before him.

Loren looked down at the Hob. “Ready?”

Mortifer gave one nod. He pulled his seatbelt across his body and buckled it.

She lowered the emergency brake and put it in drive. “Let’s go.”

72

Darien had never believed in luck. Crediting chance with his hard-earned successes was not something he had ever been willing to do, but tonight he’d had a change of heart. It was luck, he knew, that had given he and the others the strength to kill those three colossal demons, whose might and speed were unparalleled. The strength to walk away from that battle with their hearts still beating.

No grenade necessary. No flamethrower. Though fuck, the latter would’ve come in handy. Instead, he and Travis had used magic, the others aiding them with their weapons, weakening the creatures wherever possible, and by whatever means.