Page 286

Isaiah gave him a questioning look, but Bryce replied, “Yes. I thought if we could get them, and get the Mask from Nesta … it might work.”

“But how can you raise them?” Hunt demanded. Nesta had used the bones of a beast, Bryce had told him. “Their bodies are gone—”

“The Asteri kept their wings,” Bryce said, disgust lacing every word. “They kept your wings, like trophies. But because they didn’t have Sailings, I think part of their souls might still be attached.”

Hunt rubbed at his frozen face. “And what—you’re just going to have a bunch of wings flying around?”

She cut him a sharp look. “No. Well, yes—but only to get them to where we need their souls.”

“You said the Mask can reanimate dead bodies—not give souls new ones.”

“That’s what I saw Nesta do,” Bryce said. “But Theia’s star …”

Cupping her hands before her chest, she drew out the blazing, beautiful star. It illuminated the mists, set the snow at their feet sparkling.

“Wow,” Naomi breathed.

What Bryce had taken from her chest that day during the attack last spring was a fraction of the star she now held between her palms.

“This,” Bryce said, face glowing in the starlight, “seems to recognize the Mask, somehow. When I put the Mask on, I could feel the pull between the two powers. Maybe it’s something about Theia’s star. I think it can command the Mask to do … different things.”

“This isn’t the time to experiment,” Hunt warned.

“I know,” Bryce conceded. “But I think all it would take is a bit of the deceased, and I could Make them anew. Not give them true life, but their souls would be returned—given new forms. Unlike … unlike what the Asteri did to the Harpy.”

“That mask can truly raise the dead, then,” Naomi said hoarsely.

Bryce nodded. “The Fallen wouldn’t be given new, breathing bodies, but yes—they’d be able to help us.”

“What sort of bodies, then?” Isaiah asked, glancing nervously at Hunt.

“Ones the Asteri already made for us,” Bryce said a shade quietly. “Perfect blends of magic and tech.”

“The new mech-suits,” Hunt realized. “The ones the Asteri stationed on Mount Hermon.”

Bryce nodded gravely. “I think Rigelus stationed those suits up there to taunt you guys, but it’s about to blow up in his stupid fucking face. Lidia said the suits don’t need pilots to operate, so we don’t have to worry about any physical interference. Dec can hack into their computer system and block imperial access while the souls of the Fallen fuse with the mech-suits and pilot them under Naomi and Isaiah’s command.”

But to do what she was suggesting …

“We can’t,” Hunt rasped, wings slumping. “I can’t ask them to die for us again. Even if they’re already dead. The Fallen have given too much.”

Bryce walked over to him. Took his hand. “We need those suits piloted by the Fallen, or they’ll be used against us by the Asteri. We need the Asteri and their forces entirely occupied.”

But Hunt’s heart twisted. “Bryce.”

“It will be their choice whether to return, to pilot those suits. I’ll give them that choice, when I raise them. And I’ll be with you for every moment of it.” She nodded to Isaiah and Naomi. “They’ll command the Fallen. You don’t need to shoulder that burden anymore. I’ll need you with me—in the Asteri’s palace.”

He closed his eyes, breathing in her scent. Celestina could have struck, he supposed, but she remained kneeling.

And just as he had that day when Hunt had given Sandriel her due, Isaiah suddenly knelt before him. Naomi joined him on her knees.

“I’m not an Archangel,” Hunt blurted. “And I haven’t agreed to lead you two. So get up.”

It was Celestina who said, “Perhaps the age of Archangels is over.”

“You sound happy about it.”

“I would be, if it were to come to pass,” Celestina said, and got to her feet. “I told you once: Shahar was my friend. I might not have had the courage to fight alongside her then …” Her chin lifted. “But I do now.”