The helicopter was not as fast as Adam promised.
Shadowman had assumed that time was fleeting, had grasped after it for moments with Kathleen, and then Layla. Now time was a torture of uneven beats strung together and stretched into a warp of perception. Frustration hampered each draw of air and accelerated the thump of his heart. He closed his eyes, seeking peace, but swirls of amoebic light danced on the insides of his lids and his mind was battered by the racket of the rotors. Eons passed more quickly in Twilight than this interminable flight across the land.
And all Shadowman could do was sit. And sit. And sit. While Layla suffered.
This world should have long gone mad.
The yellows and greens and browns of the slowly changing landscape below were tainted by gray. A river of black water broke through the land, and beyond, a great city, barbed with tall buildings.
Finally.
Only then did he realize he’d been fisting his hands so tightly they ached. He stretched them open and stared in confusion at the black web of Shadow gathered between his fingers and against his palms. Shadow.
A push of feeling, and the dark stuff pulsed with faelight.
Oh, how stupid of him. Of course.
“Are you all right, sir?” Kev shouted. The soldier glanced from Shadowman’s face to his show of magic.
All right? No. Shadowman rubbed his hands together, and the Shadow dissipated.
But now at least he knew what he was. Would have known straightaway, if not for the panic that drove him.
“We cannot go to the Annex,” Shadowman answered.
“Sir?”
Angels. Shadowman snorted with the irony. By now they, too, must have realized what he’d become. They’d striven hard enough to wipe his kind from the face of the earth during the last war between Heaven and Shadow.
He couldn’t risk a confrontation with the angels. Not with Layla’s soul waning.
“Take us anywhere else,” Shadowman commanded. “Anywhere without angels.”
The last place he could go was the Annex. Surely, death awaited him behind the gleaming faces of the host. That he’d created a gate to Hell was proof enough for judgment against him.
Stretching his palm open again, Shadowman pushed rage into magic. The faelight sprang forth again.
No, the angels would not welcome him. He had to find another way into Shadow.
He required a quiet, dark place—he slid his gaze to Kev—without an audience. And then maybe, maybe . . .
“Go that way,” Shadowman commanded.
He knew just the spot.
Layla crashed into a chair, banging her chin, tripped, and fell on the floor as she crossed the divide between the worlds. It hurt, but she kicked to get free and stand in case another surprise awaited her. She glanced around, breathing hard. Abigail’s room was dingy next to the vibrant contrasts of Twilight. Solid, cluttered, with a lingering smell of illness in the air. Dull and wonderful. But no surprises.
She was back. A laugh burst out of her. Holy crap, somehow she’d made it.
Had Adam and Talia made it out with the babies? The thought sobered her up real quick and got her moving.
She tore to the door, skidded to a stop near the console table, where she hoped Zoe had left the gun—yes!—then ran down the haunted hallway. No ghost, but then Layla had a much better hold on life now. She’d seen the shining thread of it herself. At the elevator, the button light did not come on when she pressed. Probably not working.
“Shadowman!”
Layla didn’t expect an answer, but he had to be there somewhere. Not dead, not Death. Then what? She didn’t care.
The stairs wouldn’t open either—one of Segue’s inner cages had been triggered again—and since she didn’t have her handy door opener nearby, she opted to use her Glock. Bam! Bam! Bam! she fired the gun at the ceiling to alert somebody of her presence. If Adam was left at Segue, he’d investigate the shots. It took an interminable three minutes for two teams of soldiers to show up. She dropped the gun and held up her hands.
“Ms. Mathews?”
Yes, duh. A couple of the soldiers looked familiar, but she didn’t know their names. “Are Adam and Talia okay?”
One of them spoke into a throat mic. “I’m to take you to them now.”
Oh, thank God they were okay.
Five minutes later, research level, and into Adam Thorne’s supertechy inner sanctum, Layla was clobbered by an awkward, but beautifully tight embrace.
Talia was crying and incoherent. “How—” String of muffled words. “What happened . . . ? We all thought you were gone!”
Layla herself had sniffed. “Nope.” She shook her head. “Well, I was, but now I’m back.”
Talia opened a little distance but kept a grip on Layla’s arms. “What do you mean ‘back’? Khan said you were under someone’s skirt. Zoe and Custo are searching for you.”