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My collar was gone.

I looked at Whitney, using my eyes to ask the question my mouth could not.

He considered for a moment, then his face took on a shadow of remorse. “Miss left,” he said.

That sparked a wave of new inquiries, foremost of which being how and why, but those could wait. I wanted to get out of here. I needed to go home.

With a fumbling wave, I pushed him aside and stepped out of the cramped closet. I felt freer than I had in weeks. Free to move,and breathe, and run away from this place. I glanced around the motel room, turning a full circle to survey what Nero and the witch left here.

The bag stood out to me—the canvas tote full of supplies the witch had brought presumably to make me talk. Staggering forward, I grabbed it, then turned to Whitney as he sheathed his sword. Drawing the portal was the next step. A quick dip into Hell, then back out of it. Back to Brooklyn. Back to Indy.

My hound’s tail wagged slowly.

“I’ll accept your thanks at any time,” Whitney quipped. “This place wasn’t exactly easy find.”

I glanced at him, then gave an emphatic nod, hoping my gratitude was implied.

Rather than accepting it, Whitney frowned. “What’s happened to you?”

The dried blood running from my chin down my throat was an indicator, but it clearly didn’t tell the whole story. Explanation was as simple as opening my mouth.

His features contorted with disgust. “Damned and determined to shut you up.”

I couldn’t help but imagine Indy’s reaction when he saw. Would he be similarly appalled? It was a temporary condition, but I wasn’t sure I could stomach his revulsion, even for a short while. But I would stomach it to see his face again. I would do anything except tarry here another second.

Without being sure what would happen—with Moira missing, returning to Hell could have dropped me into any random corner of the underworld—I walked to the nearest wall, drew a portal, and stepped through.

The kennels made for a somewhat predictable destination. It was where we hounds belonged, after all. But there were no hounds. Open cage doors revealed barren metal insides.

Whitney emerged behind me, bumping into my back and jostling my stolen bag of arcane miscellany.

I wouldn’t risk being seen or worse caught in this infernal place, so I spun right back around and drew another portal. This time I decided my destination, and I thought for only a moment. I asked Sully to watch out for Indy in my absence. He would be with her. In her apartment. So, that was the place I imagined as I stooped and dragged my finger up the stone wall.

I’d barely made it to head height when Whitney grabbed my arm. Meeting his gaze, I found it pensive and his brows pinched.

“Mind if I join you?” He glanced at the cages behind us, and his mouth twisted. “I don’t feel particularly welcome here anymore.”

I’d never seen him like this. Informal. Uncertain. But I knew too well the feeling of being out of place, so I nodded, finished the portal’s shimmering line, and bolted out of the kennels and into the world I knew best.

Sully’s apartment hadn’t changed in the years I’d known her. It remained constant. A safe place for me, and I’d known it would be safe for Indy, too. The aroma of incense wafted to my nose, and I nearly broke down at the familiarity of it all. My time with Nero had taken a toll on me. I felt fragmented, barely held together, and the realization that I was finally, trulyhomewas enough to let those shattered pieces fall apart.

My hound pranced and twirled, livelier than he’d been in… I wasn’t sure how long it had been. Weeks? Months?

I braced against the wall that became solid again after Whitney stepped through, far more trepidatious than me. I stood, and I took in the smells, sounds, and glorious sights.

Candles, books, rich rugs, and tapestries bedecked the space, but the most magnificent thing of all was my darling, my doll, sitting on a cushion on the floor, staring at me slack jawed.

His hair was dark purple, setting off the gold of his eyes as they fixed on me. There was something different in his gaze. He was more aware. More present, and rife with the nearest thing to agony as he sprung to his feet and sprinted across the room, bawling my name.

I dropped the witch’s bag seconds before Indy leaped up and wrapped his legs and arms wrapped around me. His fingers dug into my back and knotted in my hair. I adjusted to hold him, then buried my face in his neck.

Sully’s wards still masked his honeyed amber smell, but I knew his scent. His perfume brought notes of vanilla and lavender, sweetening the fragrance of his skin. I breathed in deeply and touched him everywhere I could, crushing him against me while he shook with sobs.

“Baby,” he croaked. “Baby, I thought…” He leaned back, perched at my waist where I held him aloft. Cupping both palms to my face, he wiped his thumbs through the dried blood on my jaw and the tears leaking from my eyes.

“They hurt you.” He gave his head a shake. “How could anyone hurt you?”

I leaned in to touch my forehead to his while he sniffled. Despite all the signs of a messy crying fit, his face remained dry.