CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Let unseen evidence guide us toward

the mysteries of being.

Pay close attention to

the eyes unseeing.

—THE HARMONY OF BEING

Varten had a tight grip on his father’s shoulder as the two of them raced down the street. He hadn’t been here for the other two wraith attacks, but he could already sense that this one was going to be worse. The portal was somewhere out of his line of sight, but the sky darkened ominously, filling quickly with writhing spirits ready to find hosts.

“There’s a shelter down that street,” Papa said, pointing.

“No, I have to get back to Zeli. I have an idea about how to restore the Songs. I think they’ll be needed sooner rather than later.”

Papa looked around wildly before leading them into an alleyway. It would provide no protection from the spirits, but got them out of the frantic flow of pedestrians scurrying down the sidewalks.

A dark smoke-like column sprinted overhead, swooping down. Varten had a hand on his father, he was protected, but still flinched at the proximity. He felt nothing when the apparition bounced off him and redirected to find another victim.

Crashes sounded as windows broke nearby. Metal crunched and tires squealed. Screams rang out and hysterical people shouted, cried, and streamed past.

“I’m not sure we can make it back to the palace,” Papa said.

Varten peered out at the chaos around them, agreeing. “What if this is it? The Songs might be our last chance.”

“You really think you know how?”

Doubt clouded his mind, but he pushed through. “I think I might.”

“All right, then we’ll need a vehicle.”

Hand in hand, they ventured out into the street. Two middle-aged Elsiran women were hurrying past. The taller one stopped and did a double take at Papa.

“Earthsinger?” she asked, looking at their joined hands.

Papa nodded and extended his free hand to her and she grabbed on, holding onto the other woman. At the corner, someone had abandoned an older-model roadster. It sat, idling, driver’s door open.

“There!” Varten yelled, pointing.

“Does anyone know how to drive?” Papa asked. The two women shook their heads.

Varten had never driven an auto before, but he’d observed each time he’d been a passenger and had been shown the fundamentals of operating one by some of the drivers at the palace. “I think I can figure it out.” To the women, he said, “We need to get to the palace. You all are welcome to come, but this is an emergency.”

The shorter one looked to the taller one, who shrugged. “I don’t care where we go as long as those things don’t get us.”

They hustled over to the car and piled in awkwardly, a jumble of moving arms and legs trying not to break the chain of protection with Papa. Once settled, Varten reviewed what he recalled of the instructions and placed the car in gear. He tapped the accelerator and they moved forward.

Papa was in the seat next to him, one arm gently grasping his shoulder. Varten looked over and smiled when something thumped against the front of the vehicle. A woman stood there, eyes shining with malice. Her two fists had dented the hood.

Varten rushed to put the car into reverse and back up. The woman charged, but then froze and slid to the side before crashing into the front of a building.

“Drive. Now,” Papa said tightly. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He must having been using Earthsong on the wraith.

“Are you all right?”

“I can’t hold her,” he groaned. Varten shifted again and accelerated forward. The streets were in chaos; people ran from spirits and from each other as wraiths wreaked havoc on the city.

Traffic semaphores were working, but no one seemed to be following them. He was forced to slam to a stop when a runaway horse pulling an empty carriage galloped past. When they reached the first of the steep hills they had to climb, nerves buzzed inside him. The engine revved loudly as he pushed the gas while shifting.

“Don’t stall out,” the taller woman called from the backseat, just before the engine cut out.

Varten gritted his teeth. “Thanks.”

He felt the scrutiny on the back of his neck, but focused on restarting the car. This time, he took off successfully. All around them people were trying to run to safety, while more and more were being transformed.

They drove by a wraith lifting the front end of a parked car and tossing it into a house. Varten turned down a side street to avoid a cluster of wraiths up ahead who appeared to be tunneling through the pavement with their bare hands. The creatures tore down power lines, picked apart buildings, and were generally causing as much mayhem and destruction as possible.

“Does the True Father want anything left of the city?” he murmured.

“He doesn’t care about things like that,” Papa responded. “He’ll build a new city if he has to on the ashes of this one.”

When they finally reached the palace gates, Varten was certain he’d shaved several years off his life. Security was nonexistent—even the Royal Guard must have fled to the shelters set up to protect the palace workers.

“Where to?” Papa asked as they ran through the main entrance, hand in hand. Even here, dark shapes arced and dove through the air, searching for hosts to take over.

“This way.” Varten led them through the empty hallways, no other living being in sight, just spirits tracking them, waiting for a break in the chain of protection that Papa offered.

They were racing down a hallway in the newer part of the building when the electricity flickered and died, leaving them in darkness. One of the women gave a cry of surprise, and Varten was forced to stop. There were no windows in this corridor and it was impossible to see. But a flicker of fire rose in the air in front of them.

“How’s your Song?” Varten asked, as his father’s grip weakened slightly.

“All right for now.”

Varten quickened his pace, relying on the others to keep up. They wound through the passageways until they reached the obelisk room. The door was open, the rubescent glow of the monolith lit the small room. Zeli sat in front of the column but popped up at their arrival. Her jaw hung open in shock as she took them in.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, breathless.

In response, he just reached for her hand. She hesitated for a moment that seemed to last forever. In that brief time, his heart flooded with sorrow. But she stretched out her arm and took his hand. Varten released hold of his father.

“Go to the shelter in the Summer Ballroom,” he said to Papa. “See if there are others you can help or relieve.”

“Be careful, son,” Papa murmured. And then he and the women were gone.

Varten and Zeli stood in the doorway, fingers intertwined. “You came back,” she whispered, eyes wet with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry. I—” He shook his head. “I owe you an apology for a lot of things, but I had an idea.”

“An idea? About this?” Hope laced her voice.

“Do you think you can do that thing that Gilmer did to talk to his acolytes? Except for the whole city?”

Her brow furrowed as she thought. Then she nodded. “I think so. I should be able to do it with the obelisk, but why?”

“Because I think I know what the sacrifice needs to be.”