Pike wobbled upright, a hand pressed to his middle. He wasn’t bleeding out thanks to Jenks, but he obviously hurt, and his eyes weren’t focusing right. “What are you doing?”
I put an arm around his middle and began walking him to the end of the bridge. “Keeping you alive. You want to move your feet a little? We need to get to that statue of the lactating wolf.”
He blinked, head rising. “That’s a wolf?”
His lean body was heavy on me, and the scent of vampire incense was growing stronger. Images of Kisten flitted and died. The I.S. agents had organized, and that witch was winding up again, his hands dripping with a sinister red. “Rhombus,” I whispered, imagining a huge circle enclosing us and a nice section of the line. The energy sprang up, pissing off the I.S. agents as they skidded to a halt, four hundred yards back. Behind me, I heard David and Jenks roar off in my car, and I breathed easier.
“Go around!” I heard. “Triangulate it!”
Pike stumbled and I lurched to catch him. We weren’t moving fast enough, but we were off the bridge, and I strengthened my circle. The head witch gestured for the other two to move behind me. If they made a triangle, they could take my circle down. It wasn’t drawn, and it lacked permanence.
“Hey.” Pike twisted to look over my shoulder. “My car is the other way.”
The line was just ahead. I could feel it pressing against my skin. I might not be able to jump the lines without Bis, but if I stood in one, I could shift to the ever-after—taking anyone I wanted with me whether they agreed or not. It was a demon thing, and I shoved the flash of guilt down. I was saving his life. I didn’t care if he forgave me or not.
“Car?” I said as we limped forward. “Where we’re going, we don’t need no car.”
“Stop her!” the witch shouted, gesturing wildly. “She’s got access to a ley line!”
“Ley line?” Pike’s pale face went whiter. “Ah . . .”
But I grinned as we stepped into it and the red and gold of my circle flared brilliantly. I was standing in the line. Nothing could break my bubble of protection now. “Sorry about this. It’s a moment of weird, and then it’s okay.”
“Morgan, I don’t want to . . . arrgh!” he gurgled, voice cutting off as I shifted our auras to match the line, and we were suddenly . . . gone.
The sounds of Cincinnati vanished with a shocking suddenness. My heart beat once in the new silence, and then the soft hush of wind in the tall grass replaced it as we were there with only the barest sense of disconnection. Eyes closing, I took a deep breath, shoulders easing as the low sun seemed to soak in. This wasn’t my parents’ red-smeared, hellish ever-after. It was brand-new. And it was . . . beautiful.
“You crazy witch! What is wrong with you?” Pike pulled away from me, staggering until he fell to his hands and knees. Shaking, he felt the tall grass as if it was unreal. “Grass?” he questioned, squinting up at the lowering sun. “I thought the ever-after was a sun-ruined hell.”
“Not anymore,” I whispered. My smile took on a pleased softness. The damp, spring-green meadow ran for miles, and the sun looked closer to setting without the buildings in the way. The obvious rain had left the air clean, really clean, and I pulled it deep into my lungs and let it go with a sigh. I could see black clouds in the distance, but here it was nice.
Far at the horizon were mountains that never ringed Cincinnati. The original ever-after had been created by the demons as a mirror of reality to trick the elves into believing they hadn’t been plucked from reality and dropped into an elaborate cell to die. Sort of like a magical holodeck. Al said it had once been green and cool, but when the elves imprisoned the demons in turn, the smut from their eons-long war turned it into a red ruin.
When Landon had destroyed the ever-after last year in an effort to kill the demons, Bis and I had made another. Since there was no need to mimic reality anymore, we created what we wanted: trees, grass, cool pools, and high mountains now pink with the setting sun. There was supposed to be a beach here somewhere, but I’d never seen it. Bis, I thought, slumping as I gazed at the tall mountains. I will find a way. I promise.
One thing was sure. There were no I.S. agents. Smiling, I turned to the distinctive thump-thump-thump of a drum, not altogether at odds with the pastoral setting.
Pike lurched upright, his knees damp and his eyes squinting from the low sun. His hand pressed into his side, and his face was splattered with someone else’s blood. “Why am I here?”
I’d never seen that mix of anger and unease on him, and I wondered if I’d made a mistake. I couldn’t tell if it was the trip through the line, or just being away from concrete and skyscrapers. “So you don’t die,” I said. “And you’re welcome.”
He took his phone from a pocket, frowning at the cracked screen. It deepened when the phone powered up and found no towers. “Are you serious?” he said as he put it away. “Maybe you didn’t notice, but I killed them.”
“I noticed.” The thumping drum had been joined by masculine singing, low, loud, and kind of beautiful. There’d been no music the last time I’d been here, no drums. Dali must have opened his restaurant. “You hungry?” I said as I took a step toward the sound of the drums. “My treat.”
Hunched in pain, he carefully used two fingers to shift his torn shirt to see a slowly oozing, pixy-dust-caked puncture. “My God. You are crazy,” he said, apparently satisfied that he wasn’t dying today.
The music was coming from behind a gentle rise in the land. Hips swaying, I flicked my blue-wet hair back and started that way, pushing through the tall grass and glad I’d put on my butt-kicking boots that morning, even if they were now squishing. “How’s your shoulder?” I asked, turning when he didn’t answer.
He hadn’t moved. He was staring at the empty meadow, and I could almost see the moment when he realized he was trapped.
“I think Dalliance is over the hill,” I said, trying to be nice. “We can get you stitched up if someone puts in World War Two Paris.”
Jaw clenched, he pushed forward, a hand pressed to his middle. “I hear words coming out of your mouth, but they don’t make sense.”
“I’m sorry, but all my pain amulets are on the bridge,” I said, wincing as I thought of the I.S. impounding my bag. My wallet. Cash. ID. And I was worried about leaving footprints? Fortunately, cash wasn’t the usual mode of payment where we were headed. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Odd time to be asking me that,” he muttered as he came even with me.
“So,” I said as we angled up the low rise together. “If they weren’t after me, who were they?” I wasn’t exactly sure how I felt about this. I mean, I’d watched him kill every single one of them, the last with a ruthlessness that left me cold. But he hadn’t initiated the fight—that I could tell, anyway—and that was important. Still . . . his brother had sent them?