Chapter 11
Greyson’s shield device still sat on the wet pavement. The runes along its frame pulsed once, then dimmed, as if it were catching its breath.
I wished I could catch mine.
The bond to the egg tugged at my insides with every heartbeat. It was not pain exactly. More like a steady drain, the way a phone died faster when you had too many apps running. I could keep the baby safe, but the cost was showing up in my legs, in my concentration, and in the tremor in my hands.
Cal noticed anyway.
His stance stayed close to mine, shoulder angled toward me, as if he could turn his body into a shield through sheer intent.
Protective did not even begin to cover it.
Concern sat on him like armor, and through the egg bond echo it felt louder than normal, as if his emotions had discovered a megaphone.
Faith paced a short line near the hospital’s side entrance, weapon in hand, jaw set.
Nishi stood nearer the service road, her posture still, her eyes scanning for movement.
Eve and Tegan were a few steps away with Greyson, all of them looking at the area Dagna had been, as if staring hard enough might pull her back into existence.
Greyson crouched beside the device, adjusting dials and muttering like a man arguing with a stubborn appliance.
“I can widen it,” he said. “For a short burst. But if I do, it will be loud. The shield will react.”
Faith stopped pacing. “Good. Let it react.”
Eve’s gaze narrowed. “If we step through, we may not step back out easily.”
Tegan held her tracker, bone needle jittering. “The relic is behind that curtain. I can feel the signal trying to slip away from us.”
Cal’s voice was low. “And the calling is still pressing on the egg.”
He did not look at me when he said it, but I felt it anyway. The baby’s distress was like static under my skin, quiet but constant.
“We go,” I said, surprising myself with the steadiness of my tone. “We cannot stand here while she plays games.”
Eve’s eyes flicked to me. “Salima, you are running on borrowed energy.”
“I know,” I said. “That is why we end this quickly.”
Faith gave a quick nod. “I agree.”
Greyson straightened, wiped water off his hands on his jeans, then set both palms on the device. The runes brightened in response.
“On my mark,” he said. “Don’t wait.”
The air before us quaked.
That same thin seam appeared, but this time it widened.
Not a slit, a doorway, narrow and vertical, edges vibrating like heat over asphalt.
Beyond it, the parking lot looked altered.
The lights were dimmer. The colors less honest. Even the sound seemed muffled, as if the shield wrapped everything in a thick blanket.
Greyson’s voice sharpened. “Now.”
We moved.
Cal went first, because of course he did. I followed close, then Faith and Nishi. Eve came through with Tegan and Greyson, and the moment my boots hit the other side, my stomach dipped as if gravity had shifted slightly.
The shield space felt wrong in a way that was hard to describe. It was still the same parking lot, still the same asphalt and painted lines, but everything carried a film of unreality. My breath sounded louder in my ears. My skin prickled as if the air held grit.
And then Dagna stepped out from behind an SUV as if she had been waiting for us.
She wore a dark robe, but her face looked slightly younger than I remembered. As if she had taken up a good skin regiment.
“Oh good,” she said, smiling. “You came inside. That saves me the effort.”
Faith lifted her weapon. “Where is the relic?”
Dagna sighed theatrically. “Still no manners.”
Eve’s hands lit with a low glow, hellfire contained, ready. “Stop stalling.”
Dagna’s smile twitched. “Stalling is such an ugly word. I prefer pacing.”
She flicked her fingers.
The air snapped.
A force slammed into Eve like a shove. Eve staggered back one step, then planted her feet, eyes narrowing.
Dagna’s gaze slid over us, then paused on me.
There was a moment of stillness. A small smile.
Then her eyes flicked lower, as if she could see the thread in my chest that ran to the egg.
“That looks uncomfortable,” she murmured.
Cal’s posture changed instantly. His shoulders broadened slightly, not a full shift, but enough to make the air around him feel heavier. “Do not look at her.”
Dagna laughed softly. “You are adorable when you pretend you can stop me.”
Eve moved first.
Hellfire snapped from her hands in a bright arc, not a wild blast, but a controlled strike aimed at Dagna’s torso. Dagna twisted aside, fast, the flame licking her robe but not catching. A ward shimmered briefly around her, absorbing heat, then vanishing.
Eve did not pause. She followed with a second wave, pushing Dagna backward toward the far end of the lot, away from the hospital walls.
For a few seconds, it looked like Eve might actually win.
Dagna’s smirk faltered. Her steps got quicker. Her wards flashed more frequently, each one eating more of her focus.
Faith and Nishi split off with Tegan and Greyson, moving in a tight search pattern, eyes scanning ground and vehicles, looking for anything that felt like a concealed cache. Tegan’s tracker needle quivered, then swung toward a cluster of parked cars near a low concrete barrier.
“There,” Tegan said, voice tight. “It is close.”
Greyson held his device up like a lantern, runes glowing. “The shield is thick here. If the relic is anchored nearby, it is feeding it.”
Nishi kneeled, ran her fingers above the asphalt without touching. “I see ward lines. Someone drew a circuit.”
Faith leaned over her shoulder. “Can we break it?”
“Quietly,” Nishi said. “Or we trigger whatever she built.”
Faith snorted. “Tonight has been one long trigger.”
My attention kept sliding between Eve’s duel and the search, but the bond tugged harder as the shield space pressed in. I could feel the egg calling for warmth, for stability, for my focus. Every time I turned my attention away, the dark pressure nudged back, subtle but persistent.
Cal stayed at my side like a shadow with muscles. He watched me, then the fight, then the search, as if he was dividing himself into pieces and trying to be everywhere at once.
“You are fading,” he murmured, so low only I could hear.
“I am not,” I lied, because apparently lying was my hobby tonight.
Cal’s hand touched my elbow, steadying me. “Salima.”
I swallowed. “I am fine.”
His gaze held mine for a beat, and that unwanted pull flared again, heat and hunger that had no business existing in a parking lot full of death magic. My body, traitorous, had the brief thought that kissing him would be calming.
My brain responded with a mental scream.
I tore my attention back to the egg, pushed healing warmth through the bond, and forced my knees to stay locked.
The shield air shimmered.
A sound rolled across the parking lot, low and pleased, like laughter scraped through sand.
My skin went cold.
Not because of Dagna.
Because I knew that sound.
Eve froze mid-movement, hellfire hovering in her hands.
Dagna’s smile returned, wider now.
“Oh,” she said, voice almost reverent. “Perfect timing.”
The air behind her darkened.
Then Drathar stepped into view.
He did not walk like a man. He moved like a story that had become real. Tall, broad, wrapped in shadow and ceremonial menace. His presence carried heat and rot at the same time, like blood left too long under the sun.
His eyes swept us, then landed on Eve with interest, as if she were a familiar flavor.
“Little flame,” he said, voice deep and amused. “Still burning I see.”
Eve’s expression turned deadly. “Not for you.”
Drathar lifted one hand, fingers curling as if he were plucking strings.
The air rang.
And somewhere behind us, from the hospital side, a chorus of movement began.
I heard it before I saw it. Footsteps. Scraping. A wet rustle. The sound of bodies that should have stayed down remembering how to stand.
Faith turned quickly. “No.”
The undead we had killed inside the hospital rose again.
Not all of them in clean form. Some were charred, ash clinging to bone like bitter snow. Some were broken, missing chunks, moving anyway. Some were not even fully bodies, just shapes held together by spirit force, limbs twitching with wrong energy.
Even the ones we had burned down to near nothing dragged themselves upright, as if something invisible had grabbed what remained and pulled it into motion.
My stomach dropped.
That was not resurrection.
That was possession.
I saw the way they moved. Not like muscles obeying old instincts. Like something in the air yanking them around. Like an angry spirit using a corpse as a puppet, violent and impatient.
I opened my mouth and the words came out as a shout, raw and immediate.
“They are spirit driven poltergeists,” I yelled. “Only fire will kill them.”
Eve’s gaze snapped to me, then to the rising dead.
Drathar’s smile widened. “Clever girl.”
The parking lot exploded into chaos.
The undead surged forward, faster than the hospital wave. They did not hesitate. They did not stagger. They rushed like a swarm, driven by something hungry and furious.
Faith pivoted, weapon up, firing into skulls out of habit.
It did not matter.
The corpses jerked, fell, then rose again, limbs snapping back into motion as if pain did not exist.
“That does nothing,” Faith barked.
“It disrupts the shell,” I yelled back. “But not the spirit.”
Eve’s hellfire roared, bright enough to paint the shield space in orange. She flung a wave into the nearest cluster, and the undead ignited. This time, when they burned, the movement stopped. The spirit force broke like a thread snapped.
A few bodies collapsed into ash.
Relief hit me hard, but it lasted half a second.
More kept coming.
Drathar’s hand lifted again, and the air rang with that invisible string pluck.
The dead rose behind the first wave, joining the surge as if it were a parade.
Dagna used the moment, of course she did. She slipped backward, eyes on Eve, smiling like this had always been the plan.
Eve saw her movement and lunged, hellfire ready to end it.
Drathar stepped between them.