Her voice trembles at the end, but it doesn’t matter. I knew I was going to find a way to get her there the moment it broke on my name.
When we portal in on the porch of the farmhouse, Nyx dashes inside.
“Where’s the bag?” she asks over her shoulder.
“Try the top shelf in the kitchen cupboards.”
She passes the windows, and I track her to the last one. The thin white curtains are transparent enough that I see her climb on the counter. She stands on her knees, rifling through one cupboard and another. I’m about to doubt Cass’s predictability when I see her pull out the black pouch.
By the time she pulls a crystal to disengage the spell, I’m back at the doorway. I cross the threshold without any problems and shut the door behind me. Not that it will protect us from anything other than the wind chimes blowing outside.
I’m well aware that the last fucking thing I should have done was trek ten miles away from the safety of my apartment without backup, but I wasn’t exactly drowning in options. Rosdan’s been skittish about Nyx’s sister since their little chat, and I still owe Cass for bringing what I needed for the crystal ball.
I pull out the fresh blocker bag I assembled from my magic stash before we left. Instead of chanting for three hours to create a permanent block, I dump the contents onto the floor in front of me. If I can use enough light from the amulet, I should be able to create a temporary one.
Nyx rushes in as I take the amulet out of my pocket.
“Five minutes,” I tell her.
She stops long enough to give me her melty eyes before she runs up the stairway off to the side.
A nurse called my phone a few minutes ago and said Nyla’s breathing was under control, but we were already portal-jumping at that point.
Clutching the amulet in my hand, I hold it over the scattered ingredients and chant its spell. The light glows brighter than usual. Much brighter. Heat coats my palm and creeps up my forearm. It sends the darkness fleeing. I ignore the ache shooting down my other shoulder and pooling in my fingertips and mumble the words I’ve chanted so many damn times. Soon, the crystals on the floor move into a cluster, forming a short-term barrier to prevent anything with angel or demon powers from entering.
“Excuse me?”
I spin to a woman walking down the stairs. Stethoscope, scrubs, and quite the mean mug set on me and my mystical mess. Luckily, the amulet seems to be in a giving mood tonight, and I slip it over my head. The cold knot forms in my chest, but the light balances out, and I call it into my palms. I meet her at the bottom of the stairs and quickly bring my hands to her cheeks.
“Don’t step on my stuff, okay?” I say as she glazes over. “And after we leave, you won’t remember it was even there.” She nods, and I give her a quick smile. “That’s my girl. Now, tell me what happened with your patient tonight.”
“From what we can tell, she was short of breath and worked herself into a panic attack.” She stays monotone, delivering the answer without feeling. “Her breathing has stabilized, and we’re giving her oxygen and monitoring pain levels.”
My gaze flashes up the stairs before returning to her. “And how much time do you think she has left?”
“Not long.”
I feel the power wavering. “You won’t remember talking to me, but once we leave, you’ll call her contact at the slightest change.”
After I let her go, I make sure she blinks out of the daze and then deactivate the amulet on my way upstairs.
The second floor is small. Only three rooms—one a bathroom, one closed off, and the other where I find Nyx. She’s on the bed with her back against the wall and her legs over top what I imagine is Nyx plus seventy-some years. From the doorway, I don’t get much more than long white hair and pale, wrinkly hands, and I can’t say I’ve paid much attention through the orb.
The old wooden floor creaks under my feet, and Nyx is beaming before she even looks up at me. She scrambles off the bed, not worried at all about crushing the poor woman. Her eyes are bright, and I’ve never seen her look more alive. Everything about her is warm and light.
“How is she?” I ask.
She shrugs. “She’s weaker than the last time I saw her. I told her about Abaddon and where I’ve been without triggering another panic attack, though, so that’s a plus.” She glances over her shoulder, chewing her lip when her face comes back around. “Will you meet her?”
“Will I meet your sister while I’m holding you hostage?”
Before I have a chance to say no, Nyx is hauling me toward the bed. Once we’re close, she spins and holds her arms up to cover me—because she can hide the six-two dude three feet away. But she commits. With her hands on my face, she checks behind her. “Promise you won’t quit breathing?”
Jesus. I pull her wrists away, and she whips around. The playful glare she serves reminds me of the first time we met. So much fire beneath her surface, stoked and ready to burn.
She pulls me another few steps and keeps her fingers curled around my arm after we stop. “Nyla, this is Chaz.”
I look down at the frail, old woman in the bed. She has oxygen in her nose and tired eyes. Nyx’s eyes but duller in color. I’ve followed hundreds of charges from birth through death. So many that I could accurately sketch what Kai and Avery will look like in fifty years. The reverse happens with Nyla. I can smooth her skin, add color and shine into her hair, bring out her cheekbones. I adjust her features in my mind, rewinding her to match the picture I took from Nyx’s hallway, and it’s like seeing them both at every age.
Having no gauge as to what the fuck I’m supposed to do when meeting my captive’s sister, I lift my chin in a nod. One side of Nyla’s mouth perks in response, and Nyx tightens her grip on me. She squeaks and looks up at me, her face even more illuminated than when I walked in.
And the guilt finally hits. It’s not the twinge from in the desert when she told me why she’d helped Abaddon. Not the wave last week when Rosdan asked if I knew what she needed to try and save her sister. The guilt washing over me right now, as I see her this fucking happy over a half-smile, it settles in my bones.
After Nyx returns the crystal to the bag and cleans up the protection spell in the entryway, she meets me outside. She’s already dimmed a little by the time I open the portal. Since mine max out, we leave the front lawn of the farmhouse and step out on the highway, maybe a mile away.
The second my shoes touch asphalt, something instantly feels wrong. The air is tight and too still. My hands hook around Nyx’s legs while I check in each direction down the abandoned highway. Then the breeze picks up, carrying the faintest scent of burnt soul.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
I shrug so she slides off my back, and I bring her to my side while closing the portal. As I fish out my phone, the first shadow moves in the ditch. Then another and another.
“Chaz.” Nyx tugs on my arm, but I don’t need to look. She’s seeing the same thing on the other side of the road.
“Are they grungy? Like you want to shower just from looking at them?”