He yanked on the chains again, feeling blood begin to drip down his forearms.
There was a whoosh of icy air above him.
He froze, but he could see the shadow of wings rippling over the sulfur pools. The eithral screeched, a sound that made the hair rise on Roman’s arms.
Don’t move, Kitt. Don’t speak, don’t move.
Iris’s voice whispered through him. A memory of a golden field, her body against his as she held him to the earth. Breathing with him. Commanding him, desperate to keep him alive.
Roman eased himself back down to the stone floor and sat among the bones. But he could see the eithral circling back, as if the creature sensed he was near and was intent on finding him.
Don’t move.
Roman closed his eyes, sweat trickling down his temples.
This was the fate of Dacre’s traitors. The people who defied him or disagreed with him. The ones who broke away from his hold.
Dacre didn’t heal their lingering wounds. He didn’t mask their pain and wipe their memories again, forcing them to start anew.
He fed them to his monsters.
{48}
A Door You’ve Passed Through Before
The Inkridden Tribune’s headline broke the morning in two. Into a before and an after. Blissful ignorance and terrible realization.
Iris stood at the Attwoods’ front window and watched as Dacre’s ultimatum spun up a fury in the street. People were leaving their homes, carrying valises and precious belongings, anxious expressions on their faces. Some were heading north; others were rushing southward, toward, Iris hoped, a safe building.
She watched the panicked exodus, her stomach roiling.
She hated how familiar this felt. She hated how she saw Avalon Bluff every time she closed her eyes.
Tobias had left at first light, to drive the roadster home and pick up his parents. Attie had given him the address of the McNeils’， their prearranged meetup and shelter for the rest of the day. And he was right to leave before the newsboys flung papers onto door stoops, because after eight o’clock, the streets were so clogged and chaotic that Iris didn’t think a vehicle would be able to pass through.
“I need to go get Sarah,” Forest said as he came to stand beside Iris at the window. “Do you think she’s at the Gazette, or should I run to her father’s first?”
“I bet she’s already in the office. She was always one of the first to arrive at work.” Iris wondered what was currently unfolding at the Gazette. How Zeb would be bewildered and envious that the Inkridden Tribune had stirred up a frenzy, and then furious to see his front page had been altered.
Although Iris wouldn’t believe it until she saw the paper with her own eyes.
She followed Forest to the street, taking hold of his sleeve. His face looked bruised this morning, and a bit swollen around his right eye, but his gaze was clear and focused. Iris could tell he was already kilometers away in his mind, imagining which route he would take to reach Sarah.
“Bring her to 2928 Thornberry Circle,” Iris said. “The McNeils’ house. We’ll be waiting there for you.”
Forest nodded. “We might be late, if she’s at the Gazette and we need to go back for her father.”
Iris bit her lip, wanting to protest. But then a breeze sighed through the street, and a newspaper fluttered against the curb. Just from the headline font, Iris knew it was the Gazette. She reached down and picked it up, smoothing the front page.
She couldn’t explain the feeling that bloomed in her chest to see her sneaky article right there, front and center, on the first page. To an unsuspecting reader, the block of text would seem to only be a strange list of addresses, with continued on page three at the bottom. She thumbed to the third page, Forest frowning as he leaned closer to see what she was doing. And there, another block of addresses. Another, and another, with an explanation of what they were.
THESE ADDRESSES ARE KNOWN OR SUSPECTED TO BE ROOTED ON MAGICAL LEY LINES, AND CAN PROVIDE SHELTER DURING THE BOMBING.
“If you and Sarah and Mr. Prindle can’t reach the McNeils’ in time,” Iris began, setting the Gazette in Forest’s hands, “go to one of the addresses listed here, or a building you know has magical tendencies. It should keep you safe.”
Forest finally understood. A light sparked in his eyes as he threaded his fingers through Iris’s hair and kissed her brow.
“Did I ever tell you how proud I am of you?” he said.
“Yes, but I’ll never grow tired of hearing it,” Iris wryly countered.
“And also … I like your new haircut. It suits you.”