Hunt flared his wings slightly. “Why summon me? Just to give me this shove?”
Apollion’s unholy essence whispered around him again. “The Northern Rift is groaning once more. I can smell war on the wind. I do not plan to lose this time.”
“Well, I don’t plan to have a demon prince for my ruler, so find a new five-year goal.”
A soft laugh. “You do amuse, Orion.”
Hunt snarled, and his lightning sizzled in answer. “I take it we’re done here—”
The seething darkness and those leathery wings vanished.
Hunt jolted awake. He was already reaching for the knife on the nightstand when he halted.
Quinlan slept beside him, Syrinx on her other side, both of them snoring softly. In the darkness, her red hair looked like fresh blood across her pillow.
The Prince of the Pit had spoken to him. Knew who he was, who Bryce was—
The Prince of the Pit was a liar and a monster, and it was entirely likely that he was trying to lure Hunt and Bryce into some fool’s quest with their powers. And yet … Fuck.
Hunt ran a shaking hand over his sweaty face, then settled back onto the pillows, brushing a knuckle down Bryce’s soft cheek. She murmured, shifting closer, and Hunt obliged, sliding his arm over her waist and folding a wing around her. As if he could shield her from all that hunted them.
On both sides of the Northern Rift.
22
Ruhn finished off his beer, setting it on the coffee table before the massive TV in the living room. Declan, seated to his left, did the same. “All right,” Dec said, “espionage time.”
Flynn, smoking some mirthroot that Ruhn desperately needed a hit of, chuckled. “Our sweet son Ruhn is all grown up and spying for rebels.”
“Shut up,” Ruhn growled. “I knew I should have done this in private.”
“Where would the fun be in that?” Dec asked. “Plus, shouldn’t someone be here in case it’s, I don’t know, a trap or something?”
“Then why the fuck is he smoking?” Ruhn nodded to where Flynn blew smoke rings.
“Because I’m a self-destructive yet insanely charming idiot?” Flynn grinned.
“Emphasis on insane,” Dec muttered.
But Ruhn wanted them with him tonight, when most of the city was asleep, as he attempted contact with Agent Daybright. He had the comm-crystal, though he wasn’t exactly sure what to do with it—how to even begin connecting his abilities with its communication affinity. All hypotheticals, no guarantee of success. He couldn’t decide whether or not it’d be a relief to fail. To be able to walk away from this.
“So, are we supposed to meditate with you or something?” Flynn set down the mirthroot.
“How the Hel would that help?” Ruhn asked.
“Solidarity?” Flynn suggested.
Ruhn snorted. “I’m good. Just … put a wooden spoon between my teeth if I go into some kind of fit.”
Declan raised one. “Already thought of that.”
Ruhn put his hand on his heart. “Thanks. I’m touched.”
Flynn clapped Ruhn on the back. “We’ve got you. Do your thing.”
There wasn’t anything else to say, anything else Ruhn needed to hear, so he closed his eyes, leaning back against the cushions of the couch. He clenched the crystal in his fist, the stone eerily warm.
A mental bridge—that was how he always pictured the link he made between his mind and someone else’s. So that was the image he summoned, funneling it through the crystal in his hand, as surely as Bryce had funneled her own powers through the crystal of the Gate this spring. Cormac had said the crystal had similar properties, so … why not?
Ruhn extended the bridge from himself, through the crystal, and then out into the vast unknown, sprawling into a darkness with no end. He clenched the crystal tighter, willing it to lead him where he needed to go, as if it were a prism filtering his powers out into the world.
Hello? His voice echoed down the bridge. Into nothing.
He visualized the crystal’s milky core. Imagined a thread running from it, down along this mental bridge, out toward another end.
Hello? This is Agent …
Well, fuck. He should have come up with a code name. He sure as Hel couldn’t risk his own name or identity, but he wanted something cool, damn it.
This is your new contact.
No answer from Daybright came. Ruhn kept extending the bridge, letting it span into nothingness. Pictured the crystal and its thread, letting himself follow its trail into the night.
I’m here to—