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T hat wasn’t an answer, but I knew Pritkin well enough to know that pushing him anymore tonight—or today or whenever it was—wouldn’t help. If anything, it would only make him more stubborn and me more tense because I didn’t want to fight. I wanted to hold him and forget that this whole day had ever happened!

So I let things lie for the moment, grabbed the soapy rag he was still holding, and got to work cleaning myself up before the hot water gave out.

It took some doing. But I managed to scrub off most of the remaining grime, except for some that had welded itself to my skin around the joints of my suit. Then I turned to find him still standing there like a clay statue—a melting one, as the water had softened up the disaster but had not yet made much of a dent in it.

He was looking like he couldn’t decide whether to take the reprieve I’d offered or continue the conversation, so I decided to help him out.

“On your knees,” I said, and got a filthy, raised eyebrow in return.

But that powerful body slowly sank to the floor, something that would have had my heart pounding a bit under other circumstances, but in these... God! The problem was even worse than I’d thought. It was like he was made out of mud!

And when I finally got through some of that dirt, I found the same lacerations I had, only far worse. His bottom half was mostly okay, as the fey trousers he’d been wearing were tougher than they looked and had blocked most of the whipping sand. But his torso...

“Shit,” I said softly. Tiny red lines crossed and crisscrossed his body so thickly that it looked like he was wearing a plaid shirt. Most of the marks had stopped bleeding but were raw and angry looking and probably hurt like a bitch. And they were about to hurt a lot worse.

“The soap is going to sting,” I warned.

“It has healing properties,” he said, his eyes closed, and his face turned up to the spray as if he was enjoying this. And maybe he was.

How long had it been since anybody took care of him? I wondered. He was usually taking care of me instead of the other way around, but a partnership didn’t go just one way. It was time I reciprocated, although I wasn’t sure how.

I started tentatively, but some of the sand had been ground into the wounds. Removing it was likely to hurt, but he couldn’t heal with it in there. Damn it, the Circle’s welcome mat was harsh!

I guessed most war mages were expected to have shields, but Pritkin’s had failed when they never did, showing me just how out of power he’d been on that crazy rescue. It made me mad all over again, but I just kept working, being as gentle as possible and using a lot of soap to help coax the dirt out of the lines. And wondered how he’d managed to summon all those demons when out of juice.

“That’s why I’m drained,” he said when I asked.

“I thought that was helping me at Zara’s.”

“That, too. But my body replenishes magic quickly, and summoning demons is not difficult.”

“Even now?” I asked, leaning over to start on his back. “With your other half missing?”

“I’m still Rosier’s son, and he is still a council member—presumably. At any rate, I didn’t get any arguments when I called for aid.”

“Maybe those things, the sprites, called him to verify? And he told them to help you, and then came running to find you himself?”

“Possibly,” Pritkin murmured, looking distracted. Maybe because my chest was in his face, I realized and rolled my eyes. Some things never change, demon or not.

“But you didn’t communicate with him?” I asked, just to be sure. Because if Rosier had been there to help, maybe he could have...

Well, I actually didn’t know what he could have done. He might have risked himself to save his son, and maybe even me, because Pritkin wouldn’t have gone without me. But everybody else would have been left out to dry, not to mention what he might have wanted from us in exchange for that rescue.

In hell, nothing was free.

“Neither did you,” Pritkin said dryly, which... fair.

“So you don’t think we should ask for his help?” I said. Because Pritkin’s dear old dad was a wild card if ever there was one, but he loved his son. I was sure of that if nothing else. And right now, we could use all the allies we could get.

“No,” it was flat.

“I get that he can be... problematic,” I said, standing him up so I could scrub his legs. And how had they gotten so dirty when they’d been encased in what were essentially scuba pants? “But if the Circle were strong enough to be in Vegas, they’d be in Vegas, not here. And not about to get hanged in Stratford! We might need to reconsider.”

“We also need to consider that the demon council has likely lost many members and much of their armies,” Pritkin reminded me. “They would want to put us to work in whatever nefarious schemes they’re cooking up, which would likely get one or both of us killed. I don’t trust them at the best of times, but especially not when their back is to the wall.”

“But we have common cause. They have more reason than anybody to want us to return to the past and change all this!”

But Pritkin was already shaking his head. “Some do. Others may have profited from the chaos and feel rather differently, possibly even enough to oppose us.”

“ Oppose us?”

I must have sounded as outraged as I felt because he smiled slightly. “Chances for advancement are few in the hells, where those in charge do not frequently die and make way for the next generation. A shake-up like this gives opportunities as the gods hunt the most powerful. And those elevated as a result, while they may hate their enemies, aren’t likely to want to return to their chains.”

“Better chains than getting eaten!”

“If you believed that, you wouldn’t be here now,” he said dryly, “and the demon lords agree. They will fight to the last, but that doesn’t mean they won’t also fight each other whilst they do it.”

Great.

“But Adra—he’s the head of the council—”

Pritkin pulled me to my feet, even though I wasn’t finished yet. “And he knows exactly what you can do, which is why he was so friendly with you. Yes, I’m sorry, but it wasn’t your winning personality.”

“Funny.”

“Demons are drawn to power, and you have more of it than most—had,” he corrected before I could remind him. “And Rhea presumably inherited it after you. Do you think there is the slightest chance he hasn’t already reached out to her or sent an emissary offering alliance?”

And, okay, I started to get excited because no, I hadn’t thought of that. But it made sense, meaning that they might already be working together. Maybe we had more allies than we knew! Maybe—

“And do you think, if that had worked, the world would still look like this?” he added softly, deflating my balloon before it could get off the ground.

“She’d have helped him if she had access to the power,” I said. “Or, knowing her, she’d have used it herself.”

“But she hasn’t.”

I waited, but he didn’t say anything else.

“You think the gods did something, don’t you?” I asked. “Locked it down somehow, kept her from accessing it. And kept it from seeking me out because it must know I’m here by now.”

“I think there’s some kind of problem, yes.”

“So, we’re on a wild goose chase? One we can’t win, even if we reach her?” The thought was so horrible that my brain skittered away from it immediately. Because, in that case, what the hell were we even doing?

“I think…” he paused for a moment. “I think Rhea knows you’re coming. She is not only Pythia but a powerful clairvoyant in her own right. And your return is the biggest thing that has happened on Earth since the gods arrived. She has to know you’re here.

“Perhaps she’s waiting for you.”

I felt a surge of hope, followed immediately by a wave of pure frustration. I wanted to hear her voice, to pick up the phone and call her, to ask what the hell had happened and where we had gone so incredibly wrong. But given the state of the world, I somehow doubted the phones were still working!

Or much of anything else.

“We have to get to her,” I said. “No matter how hard it is.” It was what Faerie, the goddess who had held on for fifty years in the crumbling remains of her world, had told us. And while she hadn’t been able to see much lately, being locked in her realm and slowly having the life sapped out of her, it was still our best plan.

Hang on, Rhea, I thought fervently; I’m coming.

I just had no idea how.

“We’ll find a way,” Pritkin said, causing me to tear up because he never wavered. Even when everything was as screwed up as it possibly could be, and the whole world was against us, he was a rock.

Or he did a damned good job of faking it.

I felt my eyes overflow and ducked my head into the spray to hide it. But he saw and traced the line of a single tear with his thumb while cradling my cheek in his palm. Which wasn’t good because Pythias didn’t cry, at least not where anyone could see.

“We’re not done yet,” I said hoarsely and pushed him back to his knees, determined to finish what I’d started.

“My skin is going pruney,” he objected.

“You’ll live. And where are we?” I asked, changing the subject as I lathered up that awful, awful hair.

“The Sahara. The Circle established a new HQ here decades ago after losing the old one. Faheem, one of the local mages, told me on the way in.”

“If they’re settled here, then why were they in Stratford? Why was Jonas?”

“That’s what I intend to ask him after he’s had time to recover. We didn’t get much chance to talk.”

No, I didn’t guess so. And he didn’t look like he wanted to do any more of that now. I could relate.

Sometimes, a good conversation helped to clear the air, but sometimes, a lot of times lately, it just made things feel even more overwhelming. Like if I had another piece of information or another world-ending decision to make, I was going to end, too. Just break apart into pieces and crumble away like the dried mud down the drain.

I couldn’t handle whatever the Circle had going on or the fact that we were on the other side of the world from where we needed to be. I didn’t want to think about our next step or whether we even had one. I didn’t want to think at all.

I was just profoundly, ridiculously grateful to be here, to have Pritkin alive and well and here, too, and to have our little band together. This world felt like a never-ending nightmare, and this little cubbyhole of a shower was a tiny slice of heaven that had somehow intruded. And he seemed to feel the same.

The hands that had been gripping my hips suddenly slid further back and clenched as if he’d never let me go. And the face, now cleared of mud along with his hair, had released some of the stress that had been carving new grooves into its already craggy surface. Instead, something else had taken over his expression, which was why I was only half surprised to be pushed back against the tiles.

“Pritkin, we need to—” I began and then promptly forgot what I’d been about to say. Something along the lines of “lock the door,” if it even had a lock, but the words never made it as far as my lips.

Because he hadn’t gotten off his knees.

And it didn’t take him long to prove that even without his other half, he was still prince of the goddamned incubi. I found myself clutching the sides of the little shower, trying to think straight enough to point out that... that... that... something. Only I could no longer remember what.

“Um,” I said right before my eyes rolled back into my head, my tongue tangled up, and I forgot how to English. Or to speak any other language except this one, the universal one, the ohs and ahs and little moans that directed my partner better than anything I could have said anyway.

And he spoke to me, too, with an urgency unlike his usual thorough exploration, with hands clenched and jaw tight even as he pleasured me. It told me more than words that he hadn’t been sure we’d make it this far, and he didn’t know what tomorrow held. Or if there would be a tomorrow, which at the rate... things were going... was a real... “Ahhhh!”

Pleasure broke over my head harder than the pounding spray and filled me up with a languorous warmth that drove every thought from my mind. Except this one, I decided, kneeling down to kiss him. And then to push him upright so I could climb him, could find a seat on the perch his body had thoughtfully made for me, could take him deep inside and groan into his mouth at how good that felt, how needed, how right .

I wanted to rake my nails down his back, but didn’t dare because of the state of him, of both of us. We were covered in bruises and bloody welts that were starting to bleed again now that the crust of dirt had been removed, leaving us a runny, red mess that the water was fighting with. And it probably wouldn’t be the last time if the past was anything to go on. And there were people waiting for us and explanations to get and problems to face, and right then, I didn’t care about any of them!

I cared about the tongue in my mouth, the hard lips on mine, the hands clenching underneath me, forming a seat so I could writhe and move and gyrate and wring every last ounce of pleasure out of him.

Which seemed to be working because he was cursing in between kisses and the bites I was placing on his lower lip and then moving to his ear, savaging it between my teeth until I tasted the bright copper tang of blood, and his body leaped inside mine.

“God!” I heard him say, the first halfway coherent comment either of us had made in a while. And then he said it again, pushing me into the back wall of the shower and getting enough leverage to do—

That, I thought, grinning as he began pounding me into submission.

It didn’t work—I don’t do submission—but it was fun having him try. It was a lot of fun, and before long, I’d forgotten where we were, the impossible mess we were in, or whether the door was sturdy enough to keep half the base from hearing us because we were getting loud. And then giggly when he finally finished working out the day’s aggression in the most satisfying way possible, and I forgot how to speak again, and so every time I opened my mouth, laughter poured out.

I clung to him afterward, still giggling, and he kissed my neck. “We’re insane,” he whispered, and I laughed some more. Because probably.

It helped these days.

It really did.

I noticed that he was finally clean, mainly because of the time he’d been in the water, but I clung to him anyway, not wanting to move. The spray was somehow still warm and steamy, making the foggy bath something out of another place and time. It could have been my bathroom back in Dante’s, especially if I closed my eyes, which I did for a moment.

“I don’t want to leave.”

I could feel him sigh against my chest, whether in agreement or irritation; I couldn’t tell. But I kind of thought it was the first one. Either way, it caused him to shift position inside me, making me clamp down hard as if I could hold onto him that way, too.

Silly thought to have, but I really didn’t want to go back out there.

“You don’t have to,” he murmured against my hair. “You need to eat, get some rest—”

“And when that’s done?” I whispered. “People are going to want answers, a plan, a way forward. I don’t have that.”

“None of us do.”

“But they’ll expect it from me. I got them into this.”

“You got us into nothing. I did that by even mentioning HQ and those damned portals. And Zara did by attacking us. And Bodil did by dropping us into the middle of that mess in Stratford.

“The only thing you did was not to listen when I said to stay put while I went after Caleb.”

I didn’t answer because I didn’t want to go into all that again. Just gripped him harder as if I could somehow hold him here. Or will us back home, only home didn’t exist anymore.

Nothing did, and it was all my fault!

“You’re Pythia,” Pritkin said, lifting my chin and searching my face like he’d heard that, even though I hadn’t uttered it. “Not a miracle worker. And all of this was put into play long before either of us were born.”

I held onto him and put my cheek on his shoulder. “And yet we’re having to deal with it. How the hell do we deal with it?”

I thought about what we’d just done, grabbing Caleb and Jonas from under a mountain of dark mages and then outrunning three gods while almost drowning, almost getting speared by some of the Circle’s own defenses, and almost getting crushed to death by thousands of tons of earth. Almost, almost, almost. It had been the mantra of my life since taking this job.

What happened when almost wasn’t good enough?

It has been good enough until now , a familiar voice filtered through my head. And if you’re finished, we need to talk.

“Get out of my head!” I yelled, suddenly furious. And caused Pritkin to flinch.

“Bodil?” he guessed.

“Bodil.”

Goddamn it!