It was like last time—she felt the sweeping gusts of the wind, the grit of sand in her hair, the raw newness of the world and—
She is fourteen, home for Christmas break from her first semester at Brannigan. Her father is screaming, about how shit their life is, how he was cheated, and she goes outside and sits in the yard, lets the freezing rain lash at her face and hands, sits beneath the oak tree and waits for her parents to fall asleep—
Dee shook. Frantic little trembles ran through her. Her hands were clenched so hard that her nails had broken skin. Blood stained her left hand.
She is five and she cannot understand why her mother won’t stop crying—
This must be why the demon took their hearts. Because it was the only way a human might survive this—by hollowing themselves out.
“I chose this,” she said, and the wind whipped the words from her mouth.
She forced herself to look up, to wrench herself away from the memories.
It was lighter here—as if this new world hadn’t quite figured out what night was. Illumination played off the world’s edges, off the half-formed trees and lines of the field.
She blinked through the haze of sand and light and saw James and Cora struggling ahead. James had his arm braced against the wind, and Cora was squinting, struggling along in her heels. Dee hastened after them, forcing herself to concentrate on the rhythm of her own ragged breath. If she could just focus on the moment, she wouldn’t see those terrible memories.
Cora stumbled, caught off guard by either her own memories or the uneven terrain. Anger flashed across her face, and then she kicked off her shoes and continued on, barefoot. Dee reached down to pick up the shoes, holding them against her own chest; it was the only thing she could do.
This void was wrong—it was too solid, too bright, too real. The winds were stronger, the taste of metal sharper. The driving gusts pushed against her every step and she found herself panting, sucking mouthfuls of dry, hot air and grit. Every stride felt too slow, as if time had sped up and left her behind, but she knew it was probably all in her head.
When James tripped over an unseen crack in the ground, Dee rushed forward to help. She darted around to the front, taking hold of the duffel bag’s strap and heaving it upward. It was heavier than it looked—but then again, explosives would be heavy. Dee walked backward a few steps, until James could catch his footing. She was the only one of them facing the mouth of the void.
And that is how she saw the nightmare behind them.
For the second time that evening, she was glad she did not have a heart. Because she was pretty sure it would have stopped beating.
When it stood, the thing must have been twenty feet tall. For now it was sprawled on the ground, its body canted toward the center of the void.
It looked… human.
Unsettlingly, disturbingly human.
Because it was made of mismatched human parts.
Its ribs were clearly visible, slivers of bone nestled within desiccated flesh, a white cage that was utterly hollow; the flesh hadn’t decayed—it had simply dried out, like flowers left to wither and curl in on themselves. The thing’s legs were like thick tree trunks, the flesh of many legs bound together, cords of muscle and tendon. But some of it looked as if it had been crafted by the hands of a deranged artist—there were teeth embedded in the thing’s hands, jagged little spikes of discolored bone.
Her stomach threatened to crawl up her throat; hot bile flooded her mouth.
This was what the demons did with the body parts. They stitched them together into… these things. Enormous, humanoid things.
It moved with the grace of a toy robot—all jerky twitches as it tried to right itself. It was attempting to stand, but it could not rise. She saw why at once; one of its too-thick legs had been severed at the knee. The thing’s head moved. There was no neck to twist; the creature turned its entire torso to look at her with eyes that were mismatched.
And it had no mouth.
Dee felt the dread spread through her body like poison. It paralyzed her, made her freeze in place. Jack, she thought, being sighted by the giant.
It was a revelation—but it fit. If magic was real, then so were monsters.
Her gaze fell upon something in the creature’s hand. It gripped a leg—but not a human leg, not like the leg of any animal Dee could recognize. It was hinged backward, tipped with claws, and there was nothing mammalian about it.
Just like what she had seen in the hospital void.
The leg dripped black ichor, as if it had been freshly torn from its owner.
Breath caught in her throat, Dee glanced at James. He was staggering to his feet, and Cora had her arm braced against the wind; they clearly hadn’t noticed the monstrous thing that had collapsed near the mouth of the void. They were blinded by wind and sand, wholly focused on the goal before them.
The creature moved. Dee flinched, sure it would rise to its feet and come after them.
But its fingers only opened, dropping the inhuman leg to the ground. Then its arm lifted and a finger—too thick, made of tens of dozens of fingers sewn together—pointed at something.
Dee looked over her shoulder.
At the center of the void was a shimmer of light. It must have been the door to—to wherever this place led to. The other side. Another world. Heaven. Hell. She didn’t know.
“Come on,” shouted Cora. “We’ve got to get the duffel bag to the center of the void.”
James nodded. Dee relinquished the duffel bag to him and took several steps back. Her gaze was still on the cobbled-together clutter of body parts. It stared back at her.
Dee looked away, forcing her attention toward James. He had the duffel bag open, and he knelt beside it. In his hand was what looked like a remote control with a wire attached, and he fumbled with it. He twisted something, and his mouth pulled tight. When he looked up and saw Dee, his eyes were hard. He caught her by the arm, nodded.
“Twenty seconds,” he shouted, and she understood. They had twenty seconds to get out before the void would implode—taking all of them with it. He started to move, but then skidded to a halt, his mouth gaping wide. “What the—”
Cora slammed into him, but she did not seem to notice; her own attention was finally on the giant, too.
Twenty seconds. There was no time for this. James’s fingers were tight on Dee’s wrist and she shook him, trying to jolt him back to the moment. He blinked, gaze snapping to her. “Come on,” she said, the wind tearing the words from her mouth. She wasn’t sure he heard, but he seemed to understand. He took a step, and then another, still holding on to Dee with one hand and with his other he reached out and grabbed Cora’s elbow.
And then they were running. Cora was making little sounds on every exhale, a whine in her throat. Dee’s attention was yanked back to the hulking creature. It was still on the ground, like some half-fallen statue from ages past. Only it watched them, gaze following the three teenagers as they sprinted toward the mouth of the void.
Dee tried to count the seconds as they ran, but she couldn’t tell how much time was passing. It felt like moments were slipping by too quickly.
Then they were at the mouth of the void and Cal was gesturing them through.
Cool air brushed across her face and arms, and Dee gasped, the night air like a knife in her lungs.
They were out.
Out.
Dee tripped and Cora fell, slamming into the grass. James leaned on his own knees, a man trying to catch his breath after a long run. Cal yanked himself free of the void, staggering back.
Dee glanced over her shoulder; sure enough, not five seconds after they emerged from the void, it began to collapse in on itself.
They’d done it.
But there was none of the victory of the last time they had closed a void; rather, a grim silence settled over the group.
The female demon stood over Dee, staring down at her as if she were vermin. Dee scrambled back, tripping over her own feet in her haste to get away. She half expected James or Cal to step in front of her, to take up the role of amateur bodyguards like they had done in the past.
But it was not one of the heartless teenagers who put himself between Dee and the demon.
The Agathodaemon stood there. From what Dee could see of his face, his beautiful features were hard. His umbrella, which was always tucked carelessly beneath his arm, was in his left hand. He held himself loosely, and it put Dee in mind of the fencers she had seen when she passed by a gym at Brannigan—legs spread apart, ready to lunge.
Did demons fight demons? She did not know.
“You will let them be,” said the Daemon very quietly. “They are not yours.”
“They left my servant behind,” the female demon snarled. “Do you know how many years it took to build that homunculus? No, of course you wouldn’t.” Her face twisted in a sneer. “Heart-Monger.”
“Better a monger than a cobbler,” replied the Daemon. “And at least I give back what I take.”
The female demon’s gaze slid past him, to Dee and the others. “Your servants are weak.”
“And yet they can hold a conversation,” replied the Daemon, “whereas yours… well, it’s difficult to do such a thing without a mouth.”
The demon rounded on him. “There is too much at stake to rely on inferior models. How would your servants do up against a burrower?”
“So I should rely on your methods?” replied the Daemon silkily. “Of cobbled-together monsters and half-formed creatures? Tell me, how well did you fare in Pompeii?”
The demon took a step back. “The others will hear of this.”
“Oh, I’m sure they will.” But the Daemon was relaxing, shifting back into a stance of nonchalance. “But the difference between my methods and yours is that everyone will now still be alive to hear about it.”
The demon retreated, keeping her gaze fixed on the Daemon. Then she turned on her heel and walked away. She took two steps before Dee’s ears popped and the demon simply vanished, leaving the four teenagers on the ground and their keeper standing before them.