House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City, #2)

No. Those are matters of your world.

Bryce tried and failed to calm her racing heartbeat. At least Connor remained in the Bone Quarter, and they’d gotten a cease-fire.

“Kid’s a thunderbird,” Tharion said. “Ring any bells?”

“Tharion,” Ithan warned, apparently on the same page as Bryce.

I thought the Asteri destroyed that threat long ago.

Bryce cleared her throat. “Maybe,” she hedged. “Why were they a threat?”

I grow tired of these questions. I shall feast.

The room plunged into blackness.

The Astronomer whispered, “Luna guard me, your bow bright against the darkness, your arrows like silver fire shooting into Hel—”

Bryce lifted a hand wreathed in starlight, casting the room in silver. In the space where Thanatos’s hologram had been, only a black pit remained.

The male mystic jerked violently, submerging and arching upward. Red liquid splashed. The other two lay still as death. The machine began blaring and beeping, and the Astronomer halted his praying to rush to the controls. “He has snared him,” the male gasped, hands shaking.

Bryce flared her light brighter as the feed began running again.

It has been a long while since a mortal fly buzzed all the way down to Hel. I will taste this one’s soul, as I once sipped from them like fine wine.

Frost spread over the floor. The male mystic arched again, thin arms flailing, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.

“Cut him loose!” Bryce barked.

Please, the mystic begged.

How sad and lonely and desperate you are. You taste of rainwater.

Please, please.

A little more. Just a taste.

The Astronomer began typing. Alarms wailed.

“What’s happening?” Tharion shouted. Down below, the ice crept over the other two mystics in their tubs.

The prince continued, You have gone too deep. I think I shall keep you.

The male thrashed, sending waves of red water cascading into the void below.

“Turn off the machines,” Ithan ordered.

“I cannot—not without the proper extraction. His mind might shatter.”

Bryce protested, “He’s fucked if you don’t.”

The Prince of the Ravine said, I do not care for my brothers’ agenda. I do not heed their rules and restraints and illusions of civilization. I shall taste all of you like this—you and your masters—once the door between our worlds is again open. Starting with you, Starborn.

Ice exploded across the walls, crusting over the submerged mystics. The machines groaned, planets flickering, and then—

Every firstlight and piece of tech went out. Even Bryce’s starlight vanished. Bryce swore. “What—”

The Astronomer panted in the darkness. Buttons clacked hollowly. “Their respirators—”

Bryce yanked out her phone and fumbled for its light. It was dead. Another curse from Tharion, and she knew his was, too. Every muscle and tendon in her body went taut.

Shimmering, golden light glowed from the Astronomer’s upraised hand. The fire sprites trapped in his rings simmered steadily.

Apparently, it was all Ithan needed to see by as he launched himself over the rail and aimed for the male’s iced-over tub. He landed gracefully, balancing his feet on either side. A pound of his fist had the ice cracking.

The male was convulsing, no doubt drowning without a functioning respirator. Ithan hauled him up, ripping the mask from his face. A long feeding tube followed. The male gagged and spasmed, but Ithan propped him over the rim, lest he slide back under.

Leaping with that athletic grace, Ithan reached the tub in the middle, freeing the mystic within. Then on to the female in the third.

The Astronomer was shrieking, but it seemed Ithan barely heard the words. The three mystics shook, soft cries trembling from their blue mouths. Bryce shook with them, and Tharion put a hand on her back.

Something groaned below, and the lights sputtered back on. Metal whined. The floor began to rise, pulling toward the tubs again. The sun fixture descended from the ceiling as the Astronomer hobbled down the walkway, cursing.

“You had no right to pull them out, no right—”

“They would have drowned!” Bryce launched into motion, storming after the male. Tharion stalked a step behind her.

The female stirred as the slate floor locked into place around the tubs. On reed-thin arms, she raised up her chest, blinking blearily at Ithan, then the room.

“Back,” the mystic wheezed, her voice broken and raspy. Unused for years. Her dark eyes filled with pleading. “Send me back.”

“The Prince of the Ravine was about to rip apart your friend’s soul,” Ithan said, kneeling before her.

“Send me back!” she screamed, the words barely more than a hoarse screech. “Back!”

Not to Hel, Bryce knew—not to the Prince of the Ravine. But into the watery, weightless existence. Ithan got to his feet, inching away.

“Get out,” the Astronomer seethed, hurrying toward his mystics. “All of you.”

Bryce reached the bottom of the ramp, the Astronomer’s still-glowing rings blazing bright. Fury boiled in her chest. “You would have sacrificed them—”

“BACK!” the female screamed again. The other two mystics stirred to consciousness, moaning. Bryce reached Ithan’s side and looped her arm through his, pulling him toward the doors. The wolf gaped at the mystics, the mess they’d made.

The Astronomer knelt by the female, reaching for the tubes that Ithan had ripped free. “They cannot exist in this world anymore. Do not want to exist in this world.” He glared at her, cold fire in his pale gray eyes.

Bryce opened her mouth, but Tharion shook his head, already heading to the exit. “Sorry for the trouble,” he said over a broad shoulder.

“Send me back,” the female whimpered to the Astronomer.

Bryce tried to hustle Ithan along, but the wolf gazed at the female, at the old male. His muscles tensed, like he might very well throw the Astronomer off the girl and haul her away.

“Soon,” the old male promised, stroking the young woman’s wet hair. “You’ll be drifting again soon, my lamb.” Each of his rings glimmered, projecting rays around the mystic’s head like a corona.

Bryce stopped tugging on Ithan’s arm. Stopped moving as she saw the pleading little hands pushing against the glass orbs on the Astronomer’s fingers.

Do something. Be something.

But what could she do? What authority did she have to free the sprites? What power could she wield beyond blinding him and snatching the rings off his fingers? She’d make it a block before the Aux or 33rd were called in, and then she’d have a fucking mess on her hands. And if Hunt was the one called to apprehend her … She knew he’d back her in an instant, but he also answered to the law. She couldn’t make him choose. Not to mention that they couldn’t afford the scrutiny right now. In so many ways.