This does not make Enlilkian happy, either, because the ground rattles violently beneath us. It’s strong enough that chunks of walls I thought impenetrable an hour before find their way down to us. Has he undone what I put into place? Jonah forces me away from the doorway, toward a wall before he shields my body with his.
My palms flatten against the plaster. This time, when I bend the building to my will, I am assured that nothing further will break without my explicit permission.
When the building settles, a soft sob sounds nearby. “Somebody help me!”
Somebody’s in the room with us. And it’s not just somebody it’s—
“Sophie?” Mac sprints toward a closet on the other side of the room. “Sophie, where are you?”
YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME. No, seriously. Of all the people we could find, we come across Sophie Greenfield? AGAIN?
Gods, that’s so uncharitable of me. I’m instantly contrite as she stumbles out of the small closet, her knees bloody, her shirt torn, and her face bruised but still looking like some kind of ethereal angel gracing the earth. Mac grabs hold of her; she bursts into tears right there in his arms. “It’s okay,” he tells her, one hand coming up to bunch the hair on the back of her head. “You’re safe now.”
Jonah’s hand around mine tightens significantly, his head cocked to the side as he studies them. Lines furrow his forehead, ones I haven’t seen yet during this entire ordeal.
“Is everything okay?” I whisper.
Before he can answer, Kofi sweeps past Mac and Sophie to peer into the closet. “No other survivors,” he reports.
It seems like Jonah has to physically tear his eyes away from Sophie and Mac, and for a small, inappropriate moment, her ugly words from months ago come back to haunt me. “Did Jonah man up and tell you about what happened between us while you were gone?”
Focus, Chloe, I tell myself as my husband lets go of my hand and moves away. Time and place.
“They’ve moved,” Kofi is telling Jonah as they peer down onto the monitor. “None of them are visible any longer.”
“It doesn’t make sense.” Jonah runs a hand through his messy hair. “Where could they have gone? We would have seen any movement.”
“Maybe Enlilkian breaking the windows and setting off an earthquake were diversions,” I say, joining them.
“No doubt,” Jonah agrees. “But even then, I wouldn’t have figured they could have made it past us.” He peers at the doorway, like the answer is standing right in front of us. “None of the elevators or staircases you built were near the clusters they kept to.”
A choked whimper sounds from behind us. Mac has angled Sophie to face us so he can listen, too. And here’s the thing: she’s gazing at Jonah like he’s the only person in the room, like another man’s arms aren’t around her.
I force in a deep breath. Count to ten. Remind myself about time and place although I wish oh so much it were time for me to just slap the crap out of her already.
“Did you know I was naked in his bed? And that I loved it when he put his hands on me?”
Time and mothereffing place, Chloe.
Words come out of me anyway. “How did you get up here?”
Her stunning blue eyes reluctantly leave Jonah to settle on me. “Huh?”
I can only make it to the count of five before I say, “You’re not on the Council. Why are you here?”
Mac is looking at me like I’m crazy. Fine. Let him.
But then Sophie quickly looks back over at Jonah and bites her lip. Hesitates before she answers. “I was visiting someone.”
And then she looks at him again. Meaningfully. Apologetically.
Son. Of. A. BITCH. I hate thinking I’m this kind of girl, but I’m totally going to claw her eyes out. And maybe rip out that damn shiny hair while I’m at it. Because Jonah’s back to staring at her, too, his face completely devoid of anything. His head is tilted and he’s staring at her and—
“Okay, time-out.” Mac lets go of Sophie long enough to form a tee with his hands. “If we have any hope of hunting Enlilkian down in here before he gets away, we better get moving.”
Jonah looks away from Sophie first; she blushes. She actually blushes. My fingers curl tight into fists. “You’re right,” my husband tells Mac. To Kofi, “Anyone in the main hallway?”
I’m still torn between ripping her gorgeous red hair out, clawing her face until it’s no longer beautiful, or curling into a small ball and sobbing until I pass out. But unfortunately, I don’t have time for such luxuries.
“No,” Kofi answers. “Looks like a clear path. Last time I saw them, they were clustered within Knolltempest’s office around the curve.”
Except, as we discover not a minute later, there’s no way they’re all still in Knolltempest’s office, because three of them are waiting for us two doors down.
“Hello, little Creator,” Enlilkian says, stepping into the hallway.
I think my heart stops. Because what’s in front of me is the epitome of a nightmare come to life: skin and muscle barely cling to Jens Belladonna’s bones anymore.