Shadow, capital S, was cloaking one half of the building. More than that, the building itself seemed to twist out of its right angles as if the walls were trying to shrug out of the darkness. The building was writhing, warped by the dark swamp overtaking it.
At Layla’s shoulder, Talia frowned at the image. “My mother was an artist, hugely gifted.” She paused, cleared her voice. “I’ve been watching to see if you have a similar talent. Maybe this is it.” She paused again. “I know this is it.”
Layla shook her head, denying the comparison. “I’ve never been that much into art.” She couldn’t imagine creating Kathleen’s masterpieces. That gene had definitely skipped her. “But I’ve messed around with a little photography, when I could steal time.”
“You need to steal more; that photo could hang in any gallery.” Talia bit her bottom lip as she considered the image. “And I was right there. I didn’t see that at all. Your perspective is definitely different.”
“But didn’t you say that you knew Shadow?”
“I can draw from Shadow, like my father. Darken a room. Cloak myself and others. But I can’t cross, and I can’t use it to create illusion. And I’ve never seen the Twilight trees my mother painted.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying the veil was thin for my mother. And clearly it’s thin for you, too.”
“But not for you?”
Talia dropped her gaze. “My mom was very ill her whole life.”
Layla caught the subtext: Kathleen had been near death, so the veil was thin. Reincarnated, Layla had that same experience, and now she was set to die, too.
“That’s why the ghost could get to me, isn’t it?” Finally the attack in the west wing made sense. In a weird way, she was almost a ghost herself, just hanging on for that fateful moment.
Talia reluctantly inclined her head. “Yeah, we think so. I’m so sorry I didn’t anticipate the danger. We had no idea.”
Layla gripped her shoulders to ease the tension there. “You can’t anticipate everything, I guess. And you did scream her into submission, so I’m not complaining. One question: Khan has pulled me through the Shadowlands a couple of times now. He never showed you?”
A side of Talia’s mouth tugged up. “He offered, but being only half mortal, I’m too scared I won’t be able to cross back. The fae are very limited in some ways. Their world is circumscribed, more so than for humanity.”
“How does Khan go back and forth so easily?”
“Ah. Khan’s very powerful. Maybe the most powerful. And I’m only half fae.”
They started bringing in casualties, and later Adam returned to the library to discuss the findings. Once again, he looked deeply tired and Layla wondered how long he could sustain this kind of constant pressure and concern.
Talia went to him and put her head on his shoulder, lending him her strength.
Layla stood, worried and helpless. “Well?”
Adam sighed. “None of the dead exhibited the telltale wraith bite marks on their faces. The prevailing wounds were claw marks across the belly or throat.”
Layla shivered. She’d seen the bodies of people killed violently before, but it always made her very cold and heartsick.
“At least their souls weren’t taken,” Talia said.
Adam acknowledged this with a weary nod.
“Souls?” Layla asked.
Talia looked over. “Wraiths feed on souls to sustain themselves. The souls become trapped within until the wraith is killed.”
The WHO claimed the wraiths fed on a form of metabolized energy.
But, souls?
Clearly the situation was much, much worse. Layla needed to take a look at Talia’s wraith research. And even then, she didn’t know what to report in her article—if she survived to write one. Khan had said she would agree that a little deception was called for. If the soul part was true, then reporting it to the frightened masses would be like announcing Armageddon.
Layla was confused on one point. “So this wasn’t a wraith attack?”
She looked from Adam to Talia, both of whom shot each other glances heavy with meaning.
“What?”
They looked back at her.
“Oh, God, what now? I’m already going to die. What could be worse?”
“Maybe we should wait for Khan,” Talia said. “He’ll be back tonight.”
“You tell me now, so I can yell at him later. If there is a later.” Layla gripped her thighs for control.
Talia pulled a chair from a big table and sat across from her. “You know he’s been looking for Kathleen since she died.” Two worry lines formed between her brows. “Looking everywhere.”
Talia glanced over her shoulder at Adam, as if for support, then faced Layla again. Layla had no one behind her. The absence had been omnipresent in her life, but she felt it fresh now.
“Kathleen died, but when Khan breached Heaven to find her, she wasn’t there.”
Because Kathleen had been reborn as herself, Layla Mathews, the one who was doomed to die at twenty-eight. Okay, she got that.
“If Kathleen wasn’t in Heaven, he was going to go after her in . . . Hell.”
Layla flinched. What had Kathleen done to deserve Hell?
“So he built a gate.”
Oh, God, the gate.
“And the gate was opened.”