Going into the Pit was like falling. Getting out of the Pit is like being dragged through a vat of Vaseline. It’s as if the air itself is trying to push me back. I cling to my hellion as tightly as I can. I don’t even want to think about what happens if I can’t hold on.
I pop out into cramped quarters, feeling covered in goop even though there’s nothing physically on me. I should be back in my world, my time if everything went as planned. Raffe made it clear to the hellions that they would be free only if they brought us to our own where and when, but you never know.
Instead of jumping out through the portal and onto firm ground, I end up smashing against something hard. There’s enough light to see that I’m shoved against the dashboard of a truck.
The truck swerves, and I’m so disoriented that I might as well be upside down in a fish bowl. All I can see is the hellion I rode on bouncing in panic inside the truck cab. Luckily, it’s a large truck cab, but there are still far too many people and creatures crammed into it.
My disorientation settles enough for me to realize that I’m sitting on Beliel’s lap.
It’s not the same Beliel we left behind. He’s more weathered, beaten, and weary. Not to mention dried up, wingless, and bleeding. He breathes in a slow, painful rasp.
I see my surroundings in a way that my mind can’t quite comprehend right now. A white hand pushes through the open rear window. It grabs the flapping hellion and yanks it awkwardly through the window.
Behind us is an open truck bed full of confused and disoriented Watchers. Several of them look queasy as we bounce and swerve around debris.
Beyond the truck bed, a group of angels chases us through our plume of dust that spreads into the dawn sky. And is that my sister and her three scorpions flying beside us?
Shrinking in the distance is the dark shadow of the new aerie and its outer buildings. Before I can comprehend what I’m seeing, the windows of one of the outer buildings explode in a burst of fire and shattered glass.
The angels who had been chasing us stop, watching the fire. Then they circle back to the aerie to defend their home base from whatever is attacking.
The truck swerves left, then right, like the driver is drunk.
Beside me, I hear a cackling full of genuine joy. My mother is behind the wheel. She has a triumphant grin on her face as she glances over at me.
She looks back at the road just barely in time to swerve around an abandoned car. She must be going sixty miles per hour. That’s suicidal on these roads.
I push myself away from Beliel. I’d gotten used to seeing him with a fresh, hopeful face. Now he’s bleeding through his chest, ears, mouth, and nose. It’s hard to look at him, much less sit on his lap.
It’s awkward and dangerous holding my sword in such cramped quarters. I have to be careful in the swerving cab while putting the blade back into my scabbard.
‘Be careful, Mom,’ I say as she swerves again.
I crawl through the rear window and land in the standing-room-only open truck bed. There’s barely enough room for me, but I’m small enough that I can slip between two large warriors.
When I see their disoriented and drained faces, I don’t need to wonder why they’re not all airborne. Even the few who are flying hold on to the truck’s roll bar, looking like they need a little guidance. These guys clearly need a minute to adjust.
At this speed, the aerie is fast disappearing behind us.
‘Are you ready to go back and fight?’ It’s Josiah, the albino.
The Watchers answer with a general groan. It vaguely sounds like ‘yeah, okay’ if I’m being optimistic, ‘hell no’ if I’m not.
The overall impression is that they’re completely sick and in no condition to fight. I’m disoriented too but not sick to my stomach. They’ve probably never ridden with Mom before. Okay, maybe they’ve never even ridden in a car before.
‘You’ll feel better once we stop.’ I bang on the window. ‘Mom, slow down. You can stop the truck.’
She speeds up.
I bang on the window again and stick my head through to the cab. ‘Mom, it’ll be all right.’
The truck slows down and comes to a halt. Paige and her locusts fly past us, then swoop back to where we’re stopped.
The Watchers climb out of the truck, looking shaky on their legs. They unravel their wings and stretch them out, as though testing them. The rest land around us, looking not much better.
The dust settles behind us and over the Watchers. They’re quite a sight. Their partially feathered wings with their curling, splintered edges and their half-skinned bodies must be monstrous even in my mother’s imagination. I glance at Mom through the window, wondering what she thinks of all this.
My sister and her locusts do happy loop-de-loops in the air. Paige waves to me.
‘Report, Josiah.’ Raffe turns to Josiah.