Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“We don’t know who or what the key is. We have no idea where Tharuzel is or where he’ll strike next. We don’t know how many lockstones there are. Or how close we are to demon domination.”
Asher, Wylder, Rowan, and Orion all blink at me from around the table.
“Accurate, but grim, P.” Asher stands to clear the plates. “We’ve learned that the key is probably a person who lives in the New World, that lockstones can be repaired, and that the information might well have been handed down among the other surviving members of the Descendants of the Nine.”
“And you saved your sister and fixed Wylder,” Orion adds. “It’s been a hell of a week, but Asher’s right. It does us no good to be sucked into the negative.”
I draw a deep breath and stride over to get the strawberry rhubarb pie out of the oven. “You’re right. I’m just frustrated.”
“Well, there’s nothing a little pie and ice cream can’t fix.” Asher pulls the carton of French vanilla out of the freezer and follows me back to the table.
Rowan snorts. “Your optimism is adorable, even if there’s no logic or truth to it.”
Asher frowns. “Do you want pie or not?”
Rowan sobers. “My bad. Of course, pie can change the world. Everyone knows that.”
“Much better.” Asher sets down the ice cream and then goes back for the pie lifter, scoop, and plates. “At least there haven’t been any bizarre earthquakes, and Poppy hasn’t had any visions. That suggests that no more lockstones have been broken.”
“But why not?” I ask, cutting the pie into six pieces. “The first two broke a day apart. And that was almost three days ago. What does that mean? Where is he? What’s he waiting for?”
Asher closes his hand over mine and pries the knife from my fingers. “Take a load off, baby girl. I’m starting to get murderous stabby-stabby vibes off you.”
I arch a brow, but he’s not wrong. If Tharuzel were here right now, I would definitely be going to Stabby Town.
“I’m just saying… I've cross-referenced Freya's information with Order databases to map potential lockstone locations based on geological patterns and magical ley line intersections. So far, I've identified seven possible sites across four continents. Why didn’t someone just keep track of where the lockstones were set? If the Order had the information, we could get ahead of Tharuzel.”
Rowan accepts her pie and ice cream and digs in. “Seven possible sites. An unknown number of lockstones in total. And Tharuzel has already trashed two. I’d say it’s not so bad.”
“I’d say the math makes my stomach hurt. We have no idea how close we are to Demon D-Day.”
My laptop chimes with a new email notification, and I abandon my dessert to go over to the island to check what’s come in.
As much as I’d like to think happy thoughts, after the disappointment of the last response, I click over to my inbox, half-expecting another slap to the face.
Re: Descendant of the Nine
I close my eyes. Please, please, please….
Hi Poppy,
I heard about what happened to Henrik. I'm sorry for your loss and for all you're dealing with.
I'm willing to share what my family knows about the lockstones and the original binding, but I’ll need to meet you first. Face to face.
Not because I don't trust you—okay, partly because I don't trust you—but mainly because my grandmother made me swear I'd never put it in writing.
If you're serious about stopping whatever's happening, come to Nassau. I live in the Bahamas. Once we talk in person, I'll tell you everything I can.
Let me know.
Khylie
Hope flares hot and bright in my chest. "Yes! Finally. Someone actually wants to help."
Wylder steps in beside me, reading over my shoulder. "She wants us to go to the Bahamas?"
“What’s that now?” Asher jumps up from the table and hurries over. “Yeah, baby. Finally, a perk to being in the trenches. We’re going, right? Please say we’re going, P.”
“Oh, we’re going.” I'm already typing a response, fingers flying over the keys.
Khylie,
Thank you so much for being willing to help. I completely understand wanting to meet first—honestly, I'd be suspicious too if some random American emailed me about ancient demon-locking rituals.
We’ll come to Nassau. When works for you?
I really appreciate this. More than you know.
Poppy
I hit send before I can second-guess the wording.
Orion meets Asher’s high-five. "Road trip to the Caribbean.”
I'm already mentally calculating logistics. Flights to Nassau. Accommodations. How many people we can reasonably bring.
But if we portal and get an AirBnB…
Rowan has finished her pie and brings her plate to the counter. "I've never been to the Bahamas. Do you think we'll have time for—"
"Snorkeling!" Asher shouts.
Rowan laughs. "I was going to say drinking, but snorkeling works too."
"We're going on Brigade business," I correct, trying to shut this down before it gets out of hand. "We’ll be there to meet a descendant who might have information about saving the world from a demon."
"And while you’re busy getting the dirt on the lockstones, we’ll have our,
? toes in the water, ass in the sand,
Not a worry in the world, a cold beer in my hand,
Life is good today,
Life is good today ?”
I roll my eyes. “Thank you, Zac Brown.”
Orion waves away my comment, waggling his brows. “Any chance to get our groove on in swim trunks is a major win-win.”
“You better believe it, puss.”
“Asher…”
He turns and holds up his finger. “No. Don't 'Asher' me, Pops. This is happening. I'm manifesting beach days and rum drinks and—oh god, I need sunscreen. Do we have sunscreen? I'm so pale I'll burn in like three minutes—"
He races off toward the stairs, and Orion laughs and jogs after him.
"It's not a vacation!" I shout.
His voice echoes down the hallway. "Everything's a vacation if you bring the right attitude!"
Rowan snickers. "He's not wrong."
"We're going there to get information about stopping Tharuzel and repairing the lockstones."
"Sure. But there's always time for a beach day." She shrugs. "Even if Tharuzel's doing his evil demon plotting somewhere, he's probably not doing it in Nassau."
"That's not the point—"
Asher's voice yells from upstairs. "I need inflatables!”
I drop my head into my hands. "This is going to be a disaster."
"Probably." Wylder pats my shoulder. "But at least it'll be a disaster somewhere warm."
I pull out my phone and open the Brigade group chat.
Poppy: Potential lead in the Bahamas. Need to meet with a descendant who has family information about the lockstones. Anyone who wants to come, we're leaving in the morning. Let me know.
The responses start immediately.
Clara: Bahamas?? YES. I mean—for important demon-stopping reasons, obviously.
Izzy: Might be able to swing it. Let me check the schedule.
Orion: Asher and I are packing now.
Wylder: I'm in.
I look up at him texting right beside me. “You’re encouraging them.”
He laughs. “If there’s one thing this week has taught me, it’s that we need to live life while we’re able to live it.”
Yeah, it’s hard to argue that.
“All right. I’ll book us a beach house and a rental car.”
The world stabilizes around us in stages—first sound, then light, then the sharp awareness of standing on solid ground again. It’s bizarre how each person I encounter who can portal delivers a different experience.
I’m not a huge fan, but Garrison makes it almost tolerable. Almost.
"Welcome to Nassau," Garrison rumbles, his massive frame blocking most of the sun streaming through the arched windows.
We're in an indoor courtyard—open-air, pale stone, and lush tropical plants spilling from raised beds along the perimeter.
The Bahamas Chapter Order headquarters sprawls around us in whitewashed buildings with terracotta roofs, looking more like a resort than a magical command center.
The air hits different here. It’s heavy with salt and warmth, carrying the distant rhythm of waves.
"This is gorgeous," Clara breathes, spinning in a slow circle.
It is. I’m trying to remain focused and professional, but it’s tough with the colorful hibiscus blooms nodding in the breeze.
And while I was ready to take on the arrangements and costs of taking my team away for a work-cation, Garrison said it was wholly unnecessary. Apparently, we’re not the first people who have wanted to work a little R&R into visiting the island, so they have an entire guest wing.
Garrison gestures toward a covered walkway. "We’ll get you settled first, then arrange transportation and coordinate with the local chapter."
We follow him through corridors that open to glimpses of turquoise water beyond the compound walls. Everything here feels lighter, sun-soaked, impossibly blue.
The guest quarters are a cluster of six rooms that sit around a shared common space with rattan furniture and ceiling fans turning lazy circles overhead.
"Nice digs, boss," Asher declares, dumping his duffel on one of the beds visible through an open doorway. "Way better than the last place Poppy and I stayed."
I groan. "That was a hostel in Kansas when our building got tented for bugs.”
"And it was a nightmare.”
True story.
Garrison waits while we sort ourselves into rooms: Clara and Izzy claiming one with twin beds, Rowan taking a single, Wylder and I sharing another, and Asher and Orion in the fourth.
I give Orion credit. It’s tough for some people to be around Asher when he's excited, and excited Asher in a tropical location might actually be next level.
When we reconvene in the common space, Garrison has the keys to a van and a printed map of local hot spots.
"Tomorrow morning at nine o'clock, you'll meet with Chapter Liaison Torres.
He's prepared a briefing on local lockstone knowledge.
" Garrison sets the keys on the coffee table.
"The van is yours for the duration of your stay. You’ll be able to meet up with the descendant who contacted you and take some time for teambuilding. "
I chuckle. "Thank you, for all of this. You’ve been incredibly cool about my entourage."