Eye of the Storm (14 page)

The demons have done everything carefully this far. The recent drop-off in norm deaths and demon activity — excepting the Shade 2.0 killings — probably means they were marshaling their forces. Lulling us all into a false sense of security. It worked for the Nashville Summit, anyway. If Alamea hadn't dipped out when she did, she probably would have woken up with a knife in her back.

This has to be strategy too, carefully picking off the cities around Nashville. It means we don't have a lot of time. They could strike here tomorrow.
 

The plus side of it is that it gives the other cities across the country and the world more time to prepare. I heard Gryfflet say something about Cracow and Barcelona and Phnom Penh collaborating on strategy. Makes me wonder how North America drew the short straw to be the first targets, and about how stupid we all had to be to just watch Mississippi fall without questioning why.

I guess we're the frog in the pot, and we didn't notice we were on the burner until the bubbles started tickling our toes.

I don't want to see Nashville gutted. It may have been my cage my whole life, but I'm not the only one who matters here.
 

In my mind, I can feel Sol and Evis and Luna and Carrick together in a little blob of feelings a few floors down. Jax and Mason are in a clump somewhere below.

The blankness in my mind isn't pain, but at the same time it is.

I close my eyes, reaching out through the bond I feel with the shades like I'm at the center of the web and have as many hands as I need to pull on its thread. All at once, I can tell they're aware of me, but it's the mental equivalent of a glance and they go back to whatever they're concentrating on.

A single glimmer through Luna's eyes tells me they're eating beef chunks.

I rub my face with both palms. I haven't worn makeup in over a month, which might feel liberating if I hadn't used it as an excuse to forget to wash my face. It feels grimy and greasy. If we save the world, I'm booking a spa day after we rebuild.

Something tickles at my mind. With it comes a breath of leaves and hickory and warmth.

Saturn.

I spin on my heel, the tenuous thread in my mind stretching out to the northeast. I could point directly at him if I raised my finger. Taking off at a sprint, I fly through the door, vaulting down the steps into the corridor.
 

There's no need for me to alert the others. By the time I get to the floor where Evis and his group are eating, they're waiting for me. Luna's still licking his lips as we race downward.
 

In the lobby, I bellow at the Mittens crowded behind the front desk. "I've got a line on Mira and Saturn! Tell Alamea!"

I don't give them time to object or ask questions. I'm out the door with a pack of shades half a step behind.

I don't care how many demons stand between me and them. We barrel up West End Avenue, and even though the night air is silent and stale, I feel a ferocious freedom as we run.
 

We zigzag on the streets, cutting a trail to the north and east. None of the shades bother asking me where we're going. By now I know they can feel it too.

It's just a thread, a single ply of thought that could snap at any moment. I know it means that Saturn's hurt and hurt badly. I also know it probably means that Sanj is dead.

A ripple of pain touches each of the shades around me, but they don't disagree.
 

The first demon we see is a jeeling. It's by itself and doesn't survive the time it takes us to reach it. It doesn't even have time to roar. We leave pink-glowing chunks in the middle of the road and continue on.

Around me, the shades range out to flank me. When I look over, Mason catches my eye and nods.
 

We cross over Interstate 40 and turn up 11
th
Avenue to the north. My feet make almost no noise on the pavement. I wish I'd known before about the joy of running like this. In spite of the fact that fear still lies coiled in my core about Mira and Saturn and the others with them, in a strange way I know I'm going to remember this for the rest of my existence.

The thought brings a flare of happiness from Luna and Sol, and to my surprise, from the others as well. Fanned out around me as the shades are, for the first time I truly feel like their alpha.

We're in a residential neighborhood, and most of the driveways are empty of cars. At the end of the block, there's a Chrysler sedan parked askew on the grass. I run for it, and when I get within ten feet, my nose confirms my instinct. It's them.
 

The front door of the house flies open, and Mira explodes out of it, her arms landing hard around my neck.
 

I forget words. I forget the
maybe when this is all over
. I forget everything but the fact that she's here, and the only blood I smell is dried. I kiss her full on the mouth, tears streaming down both my cheeks.

I can taste her own salt on my lips.
 

When she pulls back, her face is more raw and vulnerable than I have ever seen it, but there's such a spark of relief and love in her eyes that I feel the oddest sensation of falling. "Sanj is dead."

"I know."

Jax makes a low keen behind me, and I stretch out a comforting finger of my mind to him, wishing I could go to him.
 

"Saturn?" I ask.

"I barely got him here. If Lex hadn't been able to hotwire that car so quickly, we would have all died."

"I lost your trail. I couldn't feel Saturn until a few minutes ago."
 

"He was unconscious." Mira looks over my shoulder and beckons all of us inside. "He just woke. He felt you coming."

This time the flare of pride and joy is mine. "I bet he did."

Inside, Mira barricades the door. "There's a ladder up to the attic if we need it. I punched out the skylight up there for another escape route. There's also the back door and a window in the basement we can all get out if we need to."

Saturn is in the kitchen on the white tile floor. It looks like the house's owner was doing some remodeling before the world started to end.

I hurry to Saturn's side. His chest is a mess of claw marks deep enough that I think I see a rib through the ones on his left. Blood is caked down his throat as well, and messy stitches make strange tally marks on his neck.
 

"I'm not great with a needle," says a witch I didn't even notice. Lex, must be.

"You saved his life, both of you." I pick up Saturn's hand and kiss his palm. He's barely conscious, but I feel him pulling on my mind now that we're touching. I sit cross legged, scooting over until my leg touches his side. Mason sits on his other side, taking his other hand.
 

The other shades gather around us, their bodies giving off enough heat to raise the temperature in the kitchen noticeably. Each of them stretch out their hands, making contact with Saturn's skin however they can.
 

Lex's mouth opens and closes several times. Finally, Lex just runs a hand through spiky brown hair and takes a step back, watching us.

The pull on my mind grows stronger, and through me I feel strength gathering in me, lent from each of the shades around me. It courses through my body and my mind both, and as it flows into Saturn, he stirs.

"Ayala," he says.

"Hello, my friend," I say. I kiss his palm again and hold his hand against my cheek.

Reaching out with my free hand, I brush his hair back from his face.
 

"We've got you," I tell him. "You're safe."

Looking up, I meet Mira's eyes.
 

My lip trembles, but this time I don't cry.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

When we finally get Saturn conscious enough to travel, we put him in the back seat of the Chrysler. Lex drives, and Mira rides shotgun. We take the streets back to the Summit at a decent pace, with me and the phalanx of shades as an honor guard around the car.
 

Three times we're met with small bands of roving demons — one smelling of human blood that I try not to think about — but we take them all down.
 

This is my city. They're making it their own.

As soon as we manage to get Saturn settled in a sixth floor conference room at the Summit, I go straight to Alamea's office, barging in without knocking.

"I want to clear the city," I say.

She looks up from her computer, sitting up and moving her keyboard from her lap to the desk again. She doesn't even have a glass of orange juice this time, just a half-f bottle. I wouldn't blame her if there were vodka in it, but I doubt she's spiked it.

"That would be nice," she agrees. "But I don't know that it's reasonable."

I tell her what happened to Saturn. "I know we're probably next or at least coming up quick in the invasion queue, but if we can clear the encircled area, we might be able to hold longer and give them a bloody nose to boot."

"I'm not sure that's wise."

"I can't just sit here, Alamea. And I'm not leaving town to go pick a fight with anybody else. This fight is here, and this fight is mine, and you're shitting yourself if you think those refugees one block over are going to stay safe for long. At least if we work on expanding our perimeter and the wards there, they might keep breathing a little longer."

My skin vibrates with an emotion I can't quite place.
 

"We've lived in this cage our whole lives," I say. "At least let's make it truly ours."

She looks at me for almost a full minute of silence. For a second when she opens her mouth I think she's going to tell me to get lost, but she gives me a tired smile. "If we clear the area of hellkin, it might actually be the first time in history for a city to be completely free of demons."

"Then let's do it for the gods damned history books."

I leave Alamea in her office at four in the morning. I don't think any of us have really slept recently, but I go to the sixth floor conference room where the shades are to try. They need less sleep than I do, but we're all so exhausted that when I curl up on the floor with Saturn on one side, Mira on the other, and the rest of them surrounding us, I hear all their breathing slow into sleep.
 

All but Mira's. She's tucked under my left arm, and I pull her toward me, noticing the small smile on her lips.

"What's funny?" I whisper it, knowing the shades can all hear me no matter how quietly I talk.

"I'm gay," she says. "I never in my life thought I'd go to sleep surrounded by almost a dozen naked men."

I try to hold in my giggles, but my stomach shakes enough that Saturn pokes me in the side with his elbow.

"Sleep," he says.

I close my eyes, but not before I realize that the only shade missing from the room is Mason.

I think one of the eeriest things about the fall of the South is that none of the news channels are broadcasting footage. When I text Candy — the local anchor who helped me with my own personal public relations a couple weeks ago — she responds from her bunker that none of the channels want to inspire mass panic.