Chapter 54
Vesper Corsair was supposed to be dead. Amaya had thought she’d killed him. She’d left his gun in Camden’s empty coffin, thinking she’d avenged him, and she hadn’t.
Corsair wasn’t in incredible shape; he was missing several fingers in addition to the burns scarring his face, and looked more like a walking corpse now than ever. But he’d still defied death, and a raw, visceral fury twisted through Amaya’s body.
This time, though, she had more than her little Class One relic to help her aim. She had a shotgun that never missed, and she intended to use it.
While Will took on Graven and everyone else mutually tore one another apart, Amaya climbed onto a workbench and stood, appointing herself as the unofficial sniper.
Taking lives had almost become an afterthought, her previously nebulous stance on the subject thoroughly eroded by urgency and hatred. The violence would have made her sick a month ago. Now, it seemed like an inevitable manifestation of her turbulent emotions.
But Corsair wasn’t easy to find, given the nature of his relics.
Amaya shot down two of Graven’s men in the meantime, and more when the Baroness crew arrived.
Eventually, she spotted him slithering through the crowd.
He dug his metal claws into the side of a Maelstrom crew member—Amaya thought his name was Samson—drawing a wretched scream out of the young man before he dropped.
Fury bubbled in Amaya’s stomach, her hands trembling as she took aim at Corsair’s head with every intention of firing. She didn’t really know Samson, but it didn’t matter. Being part of the crew was enough for Amaya to want to avenge him.
And she still had to avenge Camden.
She would.
Corsair must have sensed her focus on him, because he turned in her direction, eyes flashing, and vanished before she could pull the trigger. Amaya stomped her foot, nearly screaming in frustration.
Deadeye didn’t miss, but it didn’t matter if she couldn’t take aim.
Amaya jumped off the workbench and hid in the midst of the battle, surrendering her reflexes to Sixth Sense to dodge bullets and blades while she sought out Corsair. When he revealed himself and she finally had a clear shot, Amaya didn’t hesitate.
It wasn’t a glamorous or dramatic death. He didn’t get a chance to beg. She didn’t get a chance to remind him why he had to die. It was anticlimactic and dull, but Amaya felt a dark surge of victory all the same.
Of closure.
She crept up to Corsair’s body to ensure he really was dead, her field of vision narrowing so she only saw Graven’s spymaster.
Impulsively, she sank to her knees and began rummaging through his coat in search of her mother’s locket.
When her hand closed around a familiar jeweled pendant, a wave of warmth flooded her chest.
She didn’t perceive the battle surrounding her, nor the glowing veil of Aether that backlit Corsair’s body. And when she shoved the necklace into her pocket, she failed to notice the large hand that reached from the shadows until it clamped around her arm.
Amaya cried out as Graven pulled her to him, knocking Deadeye out of her grasp and letting it clatter to the floor.
“Don’t worry, Miss Sinclair,” Graven hissed in her ear. His breath smelled rotten. “I don’t wish to hurt you.”
Amaya swallowed hard, remembering that Sixth Sense didn’t warn her if she wasn’t in danger of being hurt.
Graven looked up, raising his voice. “Looking for something, William?”
Whether he intended to or not, Graven’s voice halted the fighting. At first, everyone froze. But then, the sea of pirates parted to clear a path between Will and Graven. Amaya met his eyes, trying not to appear as terrified as she felt.
Will was covered in someone else’s blood, his eyes dark and angry. He made no sudden movements, stalking forward with slow precision.
“You’re not going to hurt her,” Will said, his voice low and dangerous. “You need her unharmed.”
“Indeed,” Graven said, squeezing Amaya tighter. She whimpered, feeling a knife blade press against her throat. “But this is a waste of time, William, and you know it.”
Will glowered. “What do you want?”
“To test the doorway, of course.”
“I told you,” Amaya insisted, wriggling against his grasp. “It’s not a doorway.”
“Really?” Graven stepped aside, taking Amaya with him and unceremoniously kicking Vesper Corsair’s body through the arch. Amaya let out a strangled scream, knowing exactly what was about to happen—and it did.
Corsair’s corpse was shredded before their eyes, each piece absorbed into a different location.
His blood sprayed from the rift, a smattering of warm droplets landing on Amaya’s face.
She wanted to vomit, her stomach threatening to empty its contents on the floor in front of the grisly chunks of flesh Corsair’s evisceration left behind.
Graven’s lungs expanded against Amaya’s back, and Genesis pulsed, making her want to be sick all over again.
“It’s unstable,” he said.
“I don’t know how it works. I swear,” Amaya choked out.
“That’s quite all right, my dear. We can sort it out.” He looked at one of his men. “Bring me the boy.”
Mouse was dragged out of the assembly, held at gunpoint, and time seemed to stop. No. Not Mouse. Anyone but Mouse.
“No!” Amaya shrieked as Graven pushed her away and snatched Mouse in her place. Mouse let out a whine, his bottom lip quivering as he tried not to cry.
Amaya looked to Will, fighting back tears herself. But if he was affected by the bait and switch, he didn’t show it.
“Any interference, and I have no reservations about killing this one,” Graven said, putting his knife to Mouse’s throat instead. Mouse squeaked, tearing Amaya’s heart in two. “Miss Sinclair, why don’t you go test that console?”
Amaya didn’t know how to refuse, and she remembered with a pang of guilt that she’d left the conductor on the console. There was no sense trying to prove they hadn’t been experimenting with it.
She slowly backed up, wracking her brain for a solution that wouldn’t get Mouse killed. If Graven went inside a world of his choosing, could she trap him there? They still didn’t understand the mechanics of this.
But the rift had been created by the same explosion of energy that created the Skystone. The two were fundamentally connected. What if destroying the Skystone would, by extension, destroy the rift?
At the very least, it would make the rift intraversable. It would ensure that no one used her to activate it again. And if she timed it right, she could trap Graven in another world at the same time, and Will wouldn’t even have to worry about overcoming Genesis.
She met Will’s eyes once more and pointedly transferred her gaze to Mouse.
If he could get to Mouse, she’d take care of everything else.
She wasn’t positive, but she thought she saw Will nod. It would have to be good enough.
Amaya took her place behind the console and grasped the wheel.
The Skystone lit up, and Amaya spun the wheel with perhaps too much confidence, landing on the nodule at the pinnacle of the frame.
The golden palace shimmered into full view, a lush landscape spreading across the space until it became perfectly opaque.
Appreciative murmurs rippled through the gathered crowd, and even Graven looked impressed.
“Now, was that so hard?” he asked.
Amaya guarded her expression, careful not to give him any way of guessing what she was about to do.
Naturally, Graven didn’t risk himself at first—not after what happened to Corsair.
But neither did he instigate another all-out war just yet.
He held Mouse at knifepoint while ordering several of his own men through.
They marched through apprehensively, but all returned in one piece, disoriented and with stars in their eyes.
“Your turn,” Amaya told Graven. “I can’t stand here forever.”
“Well, Miss Sinclair, I confess I’m a bit torn,” Graven said. “How can I be sure you won’t entrap me?”
“You’ll have to take the risk,” Amaya said, lifting her chin and hoping he wouldn’t sense her nerves. “Otherwise, what’s the point of all this?”
“What’s the point, indeed.” Graven shoved Mouse forward as he stalked toward Amaya. “The boy is important to you, yes?”
Amaya’s stomach soured as she realized what Graven was about to do: use Mouse as collateral to secure his safe return. Shit. For her plan to work, he had to go in alone.
Shadows moved along the back wall—Serena and Sebastian.
“I asked you a question, Amaya,” Graven rasped. Amaya looked down at Mouse, who was wide-eyed and terrified. A tear rolled down his cheek, and Amaya could hardly breathe.
“Yes,” she said. “He’s—”
“I don’t care about the specifics.” Graven backed toward the arch. “If you lock me out, the boy stays, too.”
Amaya shifted her weight anxiously. Should she let go of the wheel and not let him go through at all? Or wait and hope that someone . . . ?
She didn’t know. She didn’t know the first thing about negotiating a live hostage situation. Her eyes remained locked with Mouse’s, her hands shaky as they held the wheel.
When Graven was a step away from the rift, someone acted: Will.
He appeared inches away from Graven in a spiral of black smoke, disrupting Graven’s field of vision enough to rip Mouse away and throw the teenager on the floor.
Mouse cried out, a line of red beading across his neck where Graven’s blade sliced him.
But it wasn’t a deep cut, and Serena and Sebastian were on their knees beside him in seconds.
“C’mon, kid,” Serena said, helping Mouse to his feet while Sebastian made sure no one rushed them. “You’re okay.”
“I thought we told you to leave,” Bas said.
“I tried, I—”
They cleared out of the aisle while Will drove Graven into the doorway. Amaya bounced on her toes, hope blossoming in her chest as she silently cheered him on.
Just a little further . . .
Finally, with a powerful kick, Will thrust Graven beyond the threshold.
“Now, Amaya!” Will called.
He didn’t need to tell her twice. As soon as Graven disappeared into the image, she released her grip on the wheel and ripped the conductor out of the console. Skystone glowing, she turned it upside down and smashed the crystal casing on the pedestal. It shattered into a dusting of shimmery flakes.
Amaya plucked the Skystone out of the debris, wincing at the flash of pain when it made direct contact with the broken skin on her hands.
“Get out of the way!” she shouted at Will. He flashed away without hesitation, pushing the others back as Amaya hurled the Skystone toward the arch. She prayed the broken images would fracture it like they did everything else.
Everything turned to slow motion as the Skystone flew toward the rift in a perfect arc.
But when it collided with the rift, it didn’t shred. It exploded. Shards of blue crystal flew outward like broken glass as it released a magnificent cloud of Aether.
Amaya gasped, her entire body seizing in pain as the cloud enveloped her. It drove her to her knees, her hands curling into fists so tight her nails nearly drew blood from her palms.
“Amaya!” Will dove to her side and covered her body with his, pulling her head against his chest. “What did you do?” He kissed her forehead and whispered more words into her ear that she didn’t hear as she gritted her teeth, forcing her lungs to pull oxygen from the burning air.
Had she just . . . had she just done exactly what Pearce had done? Was this how Aether had twisted itself into his genetic code? Was everyone else . . . ?
Amaya reached through her pain and grabbed Will’s face. His eyes were stormy and gray from Ultima. They didn’t flash blue. When she turned back to the rift, she realized why: as powerful as the explosion seemed, it was a mere fraction of the power the Skystone had contained.
The Skystone hadn’t just burst in their world. It had also detonated in countless others.
The rift began to collapse in on itself, the lines between worlds blurring into hazy shades of blue. Her hypothesis had been correct.
And the rift wasn’t the only thing the Skystone destroyed.
“The storm! It’s going away!” Edmund shouted.
Amaya sat up further to look at the door. She almost didn’t believe her eyes. The storm was unraveling, threads of Aether separating one by one and curling into the atmosphere.