Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
LAUREN
I blink against the white-gray sky, squinting until my eyes water. Just beside where I can barely make out Phoenix—that tiny speck at the top of the funnel cloud—something else is emerging.
Something big.
My brain tries to make sense of the shape. It’s massive and curved, moving with an undulating motion that’s almost hypnotic. The color is wrong though—gray and semi-solid, shifting like smoke given form. It’s appearing as if emerging through an invisible door. Or— Or a—
Or a mirror in the sky. My eyes widen with sudden understanding.
Like when Kharon and Ksenia’s baby accidentally took us to the realm of dragons when she was born.
“Is that a whale?” The words come out of me in absolute shock, because what else could it be? That’s the only thing in my limited human experience that even comes close to matching what I’m seeing.
Beside me, Sabra gasps and reaches out to clasp Layden’s arm like she needs something solid to hold onto. “I didn’t think they were real.” Her voice shakes. “What the hell did she think she was doing?”
“It’s done now.” Layden’s tone is grim, flat. It’s the voice of someone who’s just watched a plan spiral completely out of their control.
The huge gray whale-thing fully emerges from the top of the funnel, and then—oh god—another one follows. And another. And another.
They keep coming, pouring out of that swirling portal like they’ve been waiting on the other side for millennia. Four, five, six of them. Maybe more. I lose count as they separate from the funnel cloud and spread out across the sky.
Except now that they’re not clustered together, now that I can see them individually, I realize “whale” isn’t quite right.
It’s just the closest comparison my brain can conjure.
They’re creatures of some kind—I’m pretty sure about that—because they’re sort of swimming through the air.
Or wiggling. Moving with purpose and intention that feels distinctly alive.
But they’re enormous. Bigger than any whale I’ve ever seen at an aquarium or on a nature documentary. Each one has to be at least as long as a city bus. Maybe longer.
And when the pale sunlight breaks through the clouds and hits them, I see something that makes my stomach flip.
They’re not quite solid.
Instead, they’re almost translucent, like jellyfish. I can see through them to the sky beyond. I can even make out the faint suggestion of internal structures that pulse and shift. They glow faintly from within, as if lit by bioluminescence.
It’s beautiful in the most terrifying way possible.
“What the hell is that?” Remus’s voice comes from beside me, and I jump a little. I didn’t hear him approach; I was too transfixed by the impossible things swimming through the sky.
“Devourers.” Sabra whispers the word like it’s a curse.
“Sabra,” Layden’s voice carries a warning edge. A ‘don’t scare them’ kind of tone.
“What?” Sabra snaps back, and there’s steel in her voice now. The shock is wearing off, replaced by something sharper. “It’s the truth. I never thought she’d be able to actually bring them through.”
Layden rounds on her, his expression somewhere between impressed and horrified. “Then why did you help her with the circle?”
Sabra tosses up her hands in a gesture of pure exasperation. “It sounded like the end of the world!”
“So what’s different now?” Layden gestures toward the sky where the whale-jellyfish-Devourer creatures are starting to move more quickly, taking off in different directions across the gray expanse. “Maybe now we have a chance.”
“How does averting one apocalypse make sense if we invite another one?” Sabra’s voice pitches up, getting louder with each word.
“What do you mean?” Remus demands, and I can hear the edge in his voice. The one that means he’s seconds from doing something violent.
Sabra drags a hand through her hair, leaving chalk dust streaked through the strands.
“When it was just circle magic, we could contain them. As in, we could call them back after we were through with them and send them home.” She looks between Remus and Layden, making sure they’re following.
“With what Vlad did—juicing Phoenix up by feeding on a plane-crosser—they just got transported permanently here. Get it? Now we’re stuck with the Devourers on this plane. ”
“Fuck.” Layden and Remus say it in perfect unison, both staring up as the sky-whales scatter across the horizon like enormous, ghostly jellies.
I watch them spread out, my mind struggling to keep up. “I don’t get it.” My voice sounds small even to my own ears. “Why would you invite anything called a Devourer here in the first place?”
Sabra turns to look at me, really look at me, and I see her reassessing.
Remembering I’m just a regular non-witchy human who twenty-four hours ago didn’t know any of this existed.
She softens slightly, putting her hands on her hips in a posture that would be funny if we weren’t potentially watching an apocalypse unfold.
“What else would you suggest doing in a pinch to stop a nuclear apocalypse?” She says it without judgment, just matter-of-fact. “Those guys eat nuclear energy like it’s candy.”
Wait. What?
“How exactly do we know this?” Abaddon’s voice comes from behind us, and I turn to see him stalking back across the courtyard. He must be done checking on Hannah and the baby now that the tornado’s calmed. His wings are still partially extended, ready to take flight at a moment’s notice.
Sabra waves a hand dismissively. “That’s the theory anyway, from the information we’ve gathered. They eat every source of energy starting with radioactive material until a particular plane is bereft of life, then they lie dormant for ages until they find a new source.”
Bereft of life. The words echo in my head.
“So.” Abaddon crosses his massive arms over his chest. “What’s your great idea for getting rid of them after they eat all the nuclear energy? You know, so this entire universe isn’t left completely bereft of life?”
Sabra starts to open her mouth—
And then her phone goes off.
Not just hers. Layden’s starts buzzing, too. All of the guys in black suits scattered around the courtyard suddenly have phones in their hands, all of them vibrating or chiming in a discordant chorus of emergency alerts.
I left mine back at the castle—back in that room where I was confessing my love to Remus like we had all the time in the world—so I crowd in beside Remus as he moves closer to Layden and Sabra.
“What?” Remus asks, his voice tight.
“Time to see if the backup we just called in work as advertised.” Sabra turns her cell phone toward us, and the screen is lit up with emergency notifications.
I can’t read the text—What country are we even in right now? I’ve completely lost track—but the flashing red radioactive symbol with arrows pointing to a skull and a figure running away? Yeah, that’s pretty hard to misinterpret.
It’s a nuclear fallout warning.
Nuclear missiles have been launched. Somewhere nearby.
The air leaves my lungs in a rush. “Oh my god.”
Did Remus know this was coming? Obviously Layden and Sabra did—this is what they talked about in that meeting this morning. But Remus? Did he know I was pouring my heart out to him while nuclear war was about to start?
I don’t have time to spiral into that thought because Remus just lifts me—literally picks me up like I weigh nothing—and runs toward the shelter of the buildings where the other women are pressed against the walls.
My stomach lurches as the world blurs. One second I’m standing in the courtyard, the next I’m being carried at impossible speeds. The cobblestones are a gray blur beneath us. Wind tears at my hair.
I catch glimpses in my peripheral vision. Abaddon launches himself into the air, wings spreading wide enough to block out the light. To do what, I have no idea—catch missiles with his bare hands? Kharon is moving too, herding his wife and baby toward safety.
Layden sprints beside his brother, and when Sabra doesn’t move quickly enough—still frozen, staring at her phone—he just scoops her up in a fireman’s carry and keeps running.
We pass by Vlad near the entryway. The ancient vampire has paused, one pale hand shielding his eyes as he stares at the sky. Is he watching for missiles? Trying to spot the Devourers?
And then I remember—
Phoenix!
Did she ever come back down from that impossible height? Or is she still up there, suspended in the air, vulnerable to whatever’s about to rain down on us?
I crane my neck, looking back toward the courtyard just in time to see a figure descending.
Phoenix lands in the center of the circle—the tornado completely dissipated now, the blue light faded—and she looks so small.
So impossibly small for someone who just ripped a hole between worlds and pulled creatures from another plane of existence through into ours.
Then we’re through the doorway and Remus sets me down in a hallway packed with anxious people. The other women are here, babies clutched to their chests. Men in black suits with guns and grim expressions. Everyone’s phone is still going off, an electronic symphony of disaster.
“How will we know if it worked?” My voice sounds steadier than I feel. “If the Devourers actually... ate the missiles or whatever they’re supposed to do?”
“Online feeds.” Layden already has his phone out, thumbs flying across the screen as he pulls up site after site.
The doors burst open behind us and Vlad strides in with Phoenix tucked under one arm and a cadre of dark-suited men flanking them. “Out of my way,” the vampire demands, his voice brooking no argument.
Phoenix looks exhausted. Like she’s just run a marathon and then climbed a mountain. Her dark red hair is a tangled mess, her clothes torn from the wind. But as Vlad drags her past us, she looks up. Her eyes connect with Layden’s for just a moment.