Chapter 10
She doesn’t say another word after that. Not when the road narrows, not when the trees thicken around us, and even as I pull up to the barricade blocking the end of the trail, she’s silent. Her door opens before I can tell her to wait, and it slams shut before I even get one foot out.
Seems we’re both eager to get this over with.
It makes me wonder why she is. Maybe the person she wants dead is enough motivation.
I shouldn’t be curious about her. All I should be thinking about is getting to Lucifer.
Being here, at a recently-closed gate to the Beyond, feels like a step forward. I’m not na?ve enough to believe it’ll work on the first try, but hope is a hard habit to kill.
I circle the car and stop a few feet behind Amarah. She’s got her arms wrapped tight around herself, and from here I see the tremor that runs through her.
“Warmer back in your cell?” I ask, mostly to provoke her. I can’t place why, but I want to get under her skin.
Her head jerks toward me, her mouth opening but quickly closing again.
“I can sense it,” she mutters, voice low before turning away and stalking toward the lake.
We’re standing at the split where Opal Lake divides into two narrow branches that wind toward the mountains.
A border that connects five states. The air here is sharp with pine and cold water.
The sun’s long gone, leaving only the faint shimmer of starlight on the surface.
No hikers, no campers; the last Mundane scent is hours old.
I follow her at a distance, taking in the clean air—the smell of earth and the lake is grounding.
It’s the one thing that’s ever been simple for me.
Maybe that’s why I always preferred militia life to anything else.
I was built for the outdoors, for dirt under my boots and blood on my hands, not a desk.
My buddies used to call me the rugged type. I’d tell them the only downside to sleeping in your car was that nobody wanted to fuck a homeless guy—even if he was as good-looking as I am.
I shift my attention from the trees to Amarah, who’s walking barefoot ahead of me.
It pisses me off more than it should. The ground’s covered in sharp rocks and branches, and people leave all kinds of trash out here.
There could be glass, needles, anything.
It’s like she doesn’t care, not even a little, because she’s not watching where she steps.
She’s a psychopath. This just confirms it.
I push my hair back and tie it up, following her through a cluster of bushes. The silence stretches, too thick for my liking.
“How old are you?” I finally ask.
“Twenty-seven. You?” She swats a branch out of her way and lets it snap right back at me. It nearly smacks me in the face.
“I stopped counting after a thousand. Seems pointless.”
“Do you remember what year you were born?”
“2025.”
She huffs. “You’re one thousand, one hundred and one, depending on your birth month.”
“A smart, stupid girl. It’d be hot, but…” I trail off. There’s no point in finishing that thought.
Her head turns just enough for me to catch the edge of her profile in the moonlight. “You’re going to have to try harder to hurt my feelings, Butcher.”
Then she stumbles forward, catching herself on a branch with a sharp exhale.
“Watch your step.”
“Watch your step,” she mocks under her breath. “Excuse me for not having extraordinary, see-in-the-dark eyesight like some Dylox.”
She puts her hands out in front of her as she moves up a small incline, slower now but with more control. The moonlight barely filters through the trees, yet somehow she’s still managing to navigate better than most mortals would.
“There it is.”
I see it before she says anything. There’s an opening, like a small meadow that is free of trees blocking the moon. Something happened there, because the floor is scarred with burned ash and tarnished soil.
She steps into the center of the area. I can hear a creek off to our right, close enough she probably can too. To our left there is just more forest, and of course behind us would be where the road was. If we kept going, I think we’d hit the lake, but equally maybe more trees.
This isn’t too far from Mundane and Dylox activity. Had someone reported it?
“Can you tell if it opened from their side or ours?” I ask as I move slowly into the clearing.
Amarah lifts the dark blue dress she changed into at the gas station and lowers herself to her knees.
“This one opened from the Beyond. You can tell by the markings. The stripes that end in a pointed tip indicate it ripped outward, not inward. Think about punching through a piece of paper; the tears flare in the direction you exit.”
Makes sense.
“Of course it does.”
“Huh?”
She quickly shakes her head and clears her throat. “Of course it does depend on the force. How big these markings are. This was a small opening, which means nothing likely came through. At least… not anything big.”
Her hands flatten against the dirt as she leans forward, threading her fingers through it. Then she starts whispering. The words tumble out in no real pattern that makes sense. “Vendra.” “Grant me your energy.” Then more fragments, half phrases, unfinished thoughts.
“Gates to the Beyond…”
I glance around us. Nothing moves, nothing stirs, but the way her voice sounds, low and pleading, sets something uneasy crawling up my spine.
“Come on… please…” Her tone cracks, so soft it’s almost a breath. I turn back to her. “Why aren’t you answering me?”
She bends forward until her forehead nearly touches the ground. The wind stills, like even the air is listening.
“I know it’s not my fault… It’s not.” Her voice doesn’t grow louder, yet somehow it’s closer, like I can hear it echo inside my head. “Why can’t I hear you? I’m sorry… I’m… trying.”
Her chin lifts slowly and when our eyes meet, I swear I feel something press against my chest. A ripple of power that isn’t mine.
“She’s not ready to reconnect with me, it would seem,” she murmurs.
“Something tells me apologizing to a God for killing over a hundred kids just doesn’t cut it these days.” Crossing my arms, I lean my weight to one side, keeping my gaze fixed on her.
She sighs and sits back on her calves. “She doesn’t want an apology.”
“Clearly.”
“You know—” She doesn’t finish before something rustles in the bushes to her right. In a blur of motion I can’t stop, a shadow launches and tackles her to the ground.
“Shit!”
I lunge forward to help, and another thing barrels straight at me—eyes burning crimson, fur black as night, jaws sharper than any wolf’s, that snap at my arm.
I tut, spin, and drive my shin into the creature’s skull, sending it cartwheeling across the clearing into a tree. The bark splinters with a loud crack that blends with Amarah’s grunt.
I move to grab the other by the nape, but she screams, “Stop! Don’t touch its fur!”
The creature’s canines sink into her forearm. Her other hand balls into a fist as she drives an elbow back and strains to push it off.
Alright, as she wishes. But I’m not letting it keep chewing on her like a toy. I bring my foot down hard into its flank. It whimpers as it loosens its hold on her. Then I kick again, harder, and it goes flying several dozen feet away.
Copper and something else, something fucking divine, washes over my senses. It’s addictive and sickeningly sweet. I inhale, the scent of damp soil and citrus crashing into me.
Amarah scrambles up on shaky knees and then stands. “Pyrehounds. Their fur is sharp and poisonous. Before you say anything stupid…” She looks over her shoulder at me. “It’ll incapacitate even your kind, and I cannot carry your big ass.”
I’m too distracted by the smell of her blood to answer. What the fuck is in her veins? Why does she smell so good? Had the wards dulled it the first time I smelled it?
Fucking Vayl above.
I hear rushing footsteps behind me and pivot, just enough to raise my knee and meet its snout. Bone cracking under the impact. The Pyrehound whimpers as it hits the ground, shuffling backward and burying its face into the dirt as if it could somehow fix what’s broken.
More whining follows from the one I’d kicked off Amarah but when I glance over, it’s not pain causing the sound. No… vines are crawling up from the soil, wrapping around its limbs and neck, dragging it down into the earth. Its cry splits the night as bones crunch under the tightening grip.
The same sound erupts behind me. The other beast being pulled under just like its counterpart. When I turn, it’s already halfway gone. Within seconds, both creatures vanish completely, leaving only dark blood seeping from the disturbed earth, spreading in a widening circle.
What the fuck just happened?
The Witch chuckles softly and brushes past me. “They hurt me…”
My brows knit as she drops to her knees, clutching her bleeding arm with her good hand.
“Vendra’s warrior didn’t like that.”
“Yeah?” I scoff. “She won’t grant you power to channel, but she’ll summon the fucking earth to kill Pyrehounds for you?”
Her shoulders tremble. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. She doesn’t want my apologies” —she hisses through her teeth as she grabs a fistful of dirt and smears it across her injured forearm— “because I have nothing to be sorry about.”
I move beside her and lower myself to one knee. “Whatever. Let’s go. We can come back.”
“No.” She jerks her arm away before I can grab it. “The source of the energy will disappear within a day. I’ll survive.”
“You sure about that?!” I glance down at her arm which is still bleeding pretty damn badly. Why the Beyond she smeared it with dirt mixed with Pyrehound blood is beyond me. There’s clean soil all around.
Okay, weird sentence, but still: Untainted dirt exists, and she chose to kneel right in the middle of Vendra’s kill.
She squeezes her eyes shut, and I hover my hand near the back of her neck. The urge to grab her, to haul her back to the car, hits hard. I need her alive to open the gates and to get to Lucifer—but damn it if that’s not the only reason.
I can’t have her dying. I’m not a fucking monster.
“This is reckless. Let’s get to the hotel, and I’ll give you my blood to heal you. We’ll find another opening, Amarah.”
When she sucks in a breath and holds it, I shift my gaze to her hands, thinking maybe she’s made a breakthrough. Nothing.
She slowly tilts her head toward me, and I look up at her face.
Red rims her violet eyes, and they flicker like flame. They don’t stay one color, just ripple between pale pink and deep amethyst, alive and burning.
They’re… stunning.
The vein in her neck pulses. “Don’t… don’t say that.”
“Say what?”
She moves away, and my hand, as if on pure instinct alone, clasps the back of her neck, keeping her right where she is.
“My name. Don’t say it.”
I tut. “You gave it to me, remember?”
For a heartbeat, I swear the ground vibrates.
“Release me.” She twists her shoulders, trying to shove me back. “Don’t say it again.”
I let her go and rest my arm on my knee, glaring at her like she’s lost her fucking mind. She can’t be serious.
“I didn’t want to give you anything, Butcher. I had no choice… as was the case with… everything…” She blinks as rapidly as her breaths come. “In… my life…”
She wavers and I register what’s happening just in time to catch her before she faceplants into the dirt. Sliding an arm under her legs, I lift her easily, cradling her against my chest.
“Stupid girl.”