World Weaver: The Devany Miller Series, #4

By Jen Ponce

Devany Miller is chasing down evil once more, hunting for the one who dared steal her child. The betrayal cuts deep—a friend spirited away her daughter to protect her, or so she claimed—and Devany won't stop until her child is safe and the friend is dead.

A lot has changed since her first trip through the magical hook. She has a lot more power, for one, and she's not afraid to hurt people if they threaten her own.
Rage wars with guilt inside her and it's only her hyena man and her demon who keep her sane enough to continue when all hope seems lost.

She will get her daughter back—even if it means destroying the world of the witches to do it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jen Ponce
• Release date: May 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386332855

Jen Ponce

This world needs more readers. Readers are open-minded, imaginative, and more empathetic. Picking up a book, whether one of Jen's fantasy-fueled novels or someone else's thriller, puts another person's perspective of the world in your hands. (Unless you're telepathic, then you've already experienced being in another person's head. Good thing about books? Organized thoughts. Bad thing about people's heads? Unorganized chaos, judging from my own stream.) Pick up a book and enter a new world. See Tibet without getting on an airplane. (Good for those of you who are afraid to fly.) Live with cannibals without getting eaten. (Good for those of you who don't want to be eaten.) Become a lion-tamer, an assassin, or a lover. Ride a dragon, eat a dinosaur (Come on, who hasn't wondered what they taste like?), or fall in love with a man who looks like Fabio. Do it from the comfort of your couch, your bed, the hard, plastic seat on the subway next to the man dressed in pink taffeta, singing songs about chickens. Whatever you do, don't stop reading. And if you haven't started reading, grab a book! Jen's love for reading came from her mom, who valued books above all things (except maybe the Dallas Cowboys and Michael Jordan.) She writes for the same reason some people run marathons, climb mountains, sculpt, paint, or put on suits of Mentos and jump into vats of Coke: because there is a fire burning inside her that doesn't let her NOT do these things. Writing is necessary, like breathing or double chocolate chip cookies and perfectly salted potato chips. Reading is not a lost pastime and Jen refuses to believe that something so magical could ever go away. Even during the zombie apocalypse, she will be reading. She will just have to learn how to wield an ax in one hand while holding her book in the other. Jen lives in the Panhandle of Nebraska, with her boys, her cats, her goldfish Reggie and a large supply of books that help insulate the house in the winter and expand her mind. She loves connecting on Twitter and Facebook. You can also send her email and she'll write back. Visit www.JenniferPonce.com to figure out how to do all of the above. Jen. Writer of kick ass women and oogy monsters. One-handed, ax-wielding zombie hunter/reader.

Book preview

ONE

Bethany had been missing for three weeks. Three hellish weeks. I’d searched for her every waking minute, surviving on caffeine and slowly shredding hope. Asking strangers if they recognized my daughter, asking them if they would keep their eyes out, if they would report it if they saw her, was miserable.

It didn’t help I was low on sleep because of the nightmares I kept having, as if all the trauma of the past months had been fermenting and was now bubbling up through my subconscious.

For all the kind people who took a flyer and said they’d keep an eye out, there were vultures, the ones who would circle me as I passed out Bethy’s pictures. They often had their hands clasped behind their backs, studied concern on their faces.

Such a tragedy, one murmured.

A shame, tsked another. I don’t know what I’d do if my child went missing.

Worse were the prognosticators, the ones who had wheelbarrows full of doom to dump at my feet: Did the Wydlings get her? I hear they eat children.

The fifth time a vulture swooped in and pecked at my pain, I snapped. Are you going out into the Wilds to search for my daughter then?

The man had the temerity to look offended. I’m sorry? I was just trying to help.

Channeling my Skriven power, I crowded close to him, hoping he’d pee himself in fright. How is that helping? If you could do better, then take this and go find her! I slapped the paper against his chest and stalked away, angry tears leaving hot tracks on my cheeks.

My dad found me a few minutes later kicking a poor, defenseless cactus to a pulp next to a general store with a sign that said, ‘Food and Drink and Clothes, too.’

You need sleep, he said, pulling me into a hug I didn’t want to accept. It won’t help her any for you to fall sick or end up hurt because you didn’t take care of yourself. And stop fighting me, damn it. Me hugging you won’t take anything away from her.

I relaxed into his arms, not because he’d tightened them around me, but because he loosened his grip and let me decide. My dad was smart like that. I want her home with me. Is that too much to ask?

We’ll find her. I promise. But we need to get home and decide what your plans are for the house and your job.

And the police, but Dad was smart about that too and didn’t say the word. The kids grew up in that house.

I know, sweetheart. But how are you going to maintain it without a job? And how are you going to keep your job if you have to be here, searching for Bethany?

I pushed him away. Travis said he’d help with the bills.

And when you find Bethany, what then?

Why wouldn’t he shut up about it? Didn’t he know I already had enough to worry about? I’ll find another job if the Caring Shelter won’t take me back. It’ll work out. The words rang false, even to my ears. Maybe I should move here. Live with Kroshtuka. Let the rest of the world fall away.

What about Alice and Bill? What about Liam and school?

I put my hands over my ears, unwilling to listen to more. When he was silent, I dropped my hands, reminding myself he was trying to help. What else can I do, Dad? Bethy is gone. I have to be here, not there. Liam could stay in Odd Silver. He’d be safe. And it’s not like I belong in Omaha anymore.

What do you mean by that?

I’m not human. Wydling, witch, Skriven. Chythraul, if you count the spider in my head. Fleshcrawler, if that bite from Nephele ever does anything to me. I’m the resident garbage dump of monster DNA.

Dad snorted. You grew up on Earth. Your mother gave birth to you in the Fairfax hospital’s maternity ward. I’d say that qualifies you as human.

I shrugged. I don’t know what I am anymore. I used to think of myself as a mother, but what kind of mother loses her children, not once, but twice? I was no longer a wife. I was an advocate for victims of domestic violence, but how long would I keep my job?

What about a vacation?

Dad, I started, but he held up his hand.

Hear me out. You’re stressed. You’re going through one of the worst things a parent could go through. Who would fault you for needing a few weeks’ break?

I would fault me. And I doubt the police would like me leaving the area. They suspect I had something to do with her disappearance. First Tom’s murder. The death of the abuser in jail—thanks to Tytan. Danni’s crazy ex turning up violently murdered, also thanks to Tytan. They smelled something fishy and they suspected I was the source of the odor. I can’t. I don’t know what else to do, but I can’t say I’m taking a vacation. What I needed was a clone. A clone of me, Liam, and Bethy, to stand in for us on Earth so I wouldn’t have to worry about my job, or the kids’ school, or the police, or the kids’ grandparents wondering where their grandkids were.

I walked away from Dad and stared hard at the horizon. It was so big and my daughter so small. She could be anywhere. I scrubbed tears from my face and forced myself to focus on other things. Has the Anforsa been giving you a hard time?

He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to me. ‘Warning!’ the headline screamed. ‘Extremely dangerous. Wydling sympathizer. Deals with Skriven. Do not engage. If spotted, use the voxnet to notify the Witch Council or your local authorities. Anyone helping this person will be charged with treason.’ My face paled and Dad took the flyer back.

Sorry, honey, but you had to see it. He balled it up and tossed it to the ground. The bitch.

Dad.

The Council in my day would never have put up with someone like that. His voice rose and a woman walking by stopped to stare.

Dad, I muttered under my breath.

Get the hell out of here, Dad growled, and she jumped as if goosed. As soon as she scooted off, Dad pulled me into the shade of the building nearest us, tucking us in the shadows of the alley. Something’s going on, honey. Witches are disappearing. People are scared. Those that’ll talk to me say the Anforsa’s behind it.

So, the Omphalos is fixed, and she turns into a dictator? So what?

So, she wants your head on a platter. You showed her up. You’re stronger than she is, you fixed the Omphalos—something she’d never be able to do. And she hates anyone who isn’t a witch. She wants you dead, or under her control.

It’s not going to happen. Like you said, I’m stronger than she is. I kicked the balled-up paper and it rolled into a puddle of rainwater.

Not if she finds Bethy first.

HER ARMS REACHED FOR me, all eight of them. Her mouth gaped, full of killing teeth and she tipped her head as a lover would, right before a kiss. Only this kiss would kill me. I reached for my power and yanked it through her, causing her eyes to widen and her body to jerk back. A knife-hand slashed my cheek, another my arm. Pain, bright and hot, bloomed. I almost forgot what to do, then shoved the energy into her, all that I had taken from her and more. She exploded backward, her arms splaying. Her head slammed into the wall first, her back punching a hole. She slid to the floor, bonelessly.

I stood panting, not quite tired, but without any will to continue. She growled, and I shook my head. I’m done. I’d hoped that fighting Kali would take my mind off the truth bomb my dad had dropped on me. The idea of the Anforsa hunting my daughter down to use her to get to me made me crazy, and yet I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about it. Whenever my body was still, my thoughts were on my daughter. Always my daughter. Where was she now? How was she? Was she hurt?

Now, on top of that, I had to worry about the Anforsa getting to her first.

You do not have any finesse, Kali spat, shaking dust from her body as she stood.

Worked, didn’t it? Put you through a damn wall. I clenched my fists to keep from smashing her with my power again. Crude, but effective, that was me.

Had I been trying to hurt you, the outcome would have been different. Her eyes glittered, black in her dark face. Today she’d adorned her cheeks with red jewels embedded in her skin. More dotted her collarbones. Every finger on every hand sported rings. Bracelets dangled from her wrists, which made her very noisy when she moved.

Then why didn’t you hurt me? I told you I wanted to fight. I swiped at my chin and my fingers came away with a smear of blood. Great.

She grinned, showing off her fangs. Perhaps I don’t wish to test your benevolent veneer.

It’s not a veneer, I said automatically, though I’d been feeling more and more vicious of late. Losing my daughter to a woman I’d thought was a friend had done nothing for my benevolence. Still. I wouldn’t hurt you without cause. Or your permission, I added, having asked her if she would spar with me and if she cared if I got rough. She’d told me she welcomed it and here we were.

I do not trust the Originators. She slid knives back into various hiding spots on her body, then folded one set of arms, put another set behind her back, and let the third set hang at her sides.

I’m not an Originator, I said. I mean, technically, I suppose I am one. But I’m not like the others.

Her look made me want to protest more, but I kept my mouth shut. Are we done?

Yes. I still wanted to kick something, or better yet kill it. I needed to let her go.

I will continue to look for your daughter as best I can, considering. She vanished without another word, leaving me alone in Tytan’s manse. Alone with my thoughts.

I’d fixed the damned Omphalos and now the Anforsa was using it to draw the borders closed. If the Witch’s Council managed to fix all the weak spots, no Skriven would be able to travel inside witch lands. If that happened, I’d never get my daughter back.

Pain lanced through me, pain and anger in a mix I was all too familiar with.

Any word?

I turned to see Nex bobbing in the hall, his intestines dragging behind him. No. You?

Vasili and I spy upon the witches as best we can, but the glare from the Omphalos is too bright to see much of use.

Of course it was. I was my own worst enemy. I needed to stop trying to fix things. Or at least step back and think a damn minute before fixing the immediate problem. Something on his face made me ask, What?

They are repairing the border that separates the Wilds from the witch lands.

I knew that. What’s with the concerned face?

He floated closer to me, the soft shush of his guts pulling along the floor no longer disturbing to me. We cannot be certain.

Nex. Spit it out.

There are more Riders infecting Wydlings in the far south and even some witches with full-grown parasites riding inside them.

I shook my head. That’s impossible. The Omphalos keeps the Riders at bay.

Not along the southern shore. The tides that roll in off the water wash the border towns with wild magic. They are far enough away from the Omphalos that the parasites can survive. They cannot infect other witches with potential, though, so they cannot spread the same way as in the Wilds.

Lizzie had told me I would have to deal with the Riders. I’d thought I ended it when I killed the parasite that had tried to infect me, Liam, and Krosh. Apparently, I was dead wrong. How many?

Too many. I fear that in a few weeks, the Wilds will be overrun, and all its people infected. Or dead.

AFTER NEX’S WONDERFUL news, I hooked to Marantha’s house. Usually, I was polite and knocked. This time I slipped through the hook to the middle of her living room, unwilling to risk someone seeing me outside. Marantha? Sorry to pop in without ...

On the coffee table, beside a cup of tea that still had steam rising from the surface, was the wanted flyer with my picture on it.

Shit, I breathed. By being in her house, I had put her in danger. As I was debating whether I should leave, Marantha walked in from the kitchen.

She gasped, clapping her hand to her chest. Devany. What are you doing here?

Breaking the law, apparently. I pointed at the flyer.

She waved her hand, dismissing it. Kenda’s feathers are ruffled. You not only showed her up, you fixed the Omphalos. That took a hell of a lot of power and now half the Council is willing to let your crimes—and those of your father—slide.

My dad thinks she’s trying to find Bethany before I can, so that she can use her to get to me.

He’s probably right. She settled herself on the couch and picked up her tea, the cup rattling against the saucer as she lifted it. They are watching me.

That’s why I didn’t knock.

She jerked her chin to the window. Listening too.

I stepped close. Her eyes widened as I made a hook and took us to the Slip. She was now on Tytan’s couch, the squishy one. She proceeded to sink into the cushions. What did you do? she asked.

Brought us someplace private to talk. I sat in the chair across from her. The Anforsa won’t even know we were gone.

She snorted, trying to look calm, but I caught her panicked glances at the window. What did she see beyond that pane of warped glass? The Slip was an uncomfortable place for non-Skriven. I’d long since gotten used to the place, even though I wasn’t technically a Skriven. I’d been voluntold for the job of Originator—Skriven boss—and as soon as I figured out how to weasel out of it, I would.

Have you heard from Arsinua?

No. I’m sorry, she said, seeing my face fall. She knows I helped you push her soul into the Formless One’s body. I doubt she’d trust me at all. She struggled to the edge of the couch and perched there, her tea cup still in her hand.

I dropped my head into my hands. I have to find her. It’s killing me. She can’t just disappear, I said.

No, she can’t. It’s a matter of finding her magical signature. Marantha reached across the coffee table and pressed her cup into my hands. The problem is, she hasn’t been using any magic.

I cursed again and Marantha tsked at me.

Drink. She eyed me until I took a petulant sip. Anyway, until she does, we are stuck searching for her the hard way.

What about Bethy? She has magic too. And now she’s here, where it’s everywhere.

Arsinua probably cloaked her.

I glared.

Hid her magical signature. It would take power to maintain, so I’m guessing she is with someone else.

Someone is helping her hold my daughter hostage? The cup broke in my hand and warm tea spilled over my lap and onto the floor. Damn it. I’ll kill her, Marantha, and whoever is helping her. I want Bethy back.

Breaking my good cups won’t bring her home. Her lips thinned at the mess I’d made, but she didn’t say more about it. Do you think Arsinua would hurt your daughter?

She took her from me!

Yes, I know, she said, patiently. But do you think she would hurt her?

I bit down on a number of nasty comments and finally said, No.

Then there are other things you should worry about first. I opened my mouth to protest, and she held up her hand. They are closing the borders. As soon as they’ve finished, you won’t get back in. The magic is too powerful, even for you.

Yeah, yeah. A giant clock was ticking loudly in my ear and at the top of every hour, screamed, ‘Doom! Doom!’

I will continue to search for your daughter, as will your father. But once the Anforsa has the border sealed ... She shook her head. The Council will have unlimited power. I can’t imagine they will wield it responsibly. At first, perhaps. But you know as well as I do how power corrupts.

What was she saying? That I’d been corrupted by my power?

No, she said, sounding tired. I’m not talking about you. Not yet. Yes, I do think it could go to your head, very easily. History has shown over and over again that power corrupts. Why would you be any different?

Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.

She shrugged as if to say, ‘No problem.’

So what should I do?

Find a way to break the Omphalos again.

I walked to the window. Outside, a slug-like Skriven crawled by, leaving behind a slime trail of acid that sizzled the ground. I can’t get anywhere near it.

Perhaps you don’t need to.

I glanced at her over my shoulder. What do you mean?

Looking into how King Sorgen made it might tell you how to break it.

Back to the view outside. The Skriven had left behind a smoking black trail that was already being absorbed by the ground. The Slip was so weird. I need to find my daughter before the borders close. I don’t have time to look into it. I had access to the man himself, but it was unclear how I’d get the burnt husk of what remained of Sorgen to talk. Perhaps the goddess would be able to tell me.

You need to stay out of witch lands. If the Anforsa finds you, I’m afraid she might kill you.

I snorted.

Devany, I’ve heard she’s been opening herself up to the Omphalos, letting more and more of its magic fill her. There were a few witches in my day that could take half of the magic that thing is putting out now.

Is it too much to hope that she’ll boil her brains?

Yes. The magic will burn away her sanity, but it will also keep her alive. That’s why it’s safer for you and your daughter if you stay away.

I pressed my hand to my forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache. I can’t stay away. The guilt would eat me alive if I didn’t search for her.

She leaned forward, her elbows propped on her knees. We will find her. Wherever she is, we will find her. Arsinua won’t hurt her or let her be hurt. She may have a lot of faults, but she is a tireless protector of the weak.

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. I’d been wishing death on Arsinua’s head since finding her and my daughter missing. Marantha didn’t need to know what bloodthirsty thoughts ran around in my skull. So I didn’t speak. I bit down on my tears instead and prayed she was right.

TWO

A re you sure you’ll be okay? I asked Marantha when we got back to her house. I’d tried talking her out of staying where she was, considering the Anforsa was off her rocker, but of course she’d refused.

Oh, who knows anymore? I’m sure Kenda will come here and threaten me. She’s done it before.

Do you have any family or friends to stay with for a while?

She crossed to the window and peeked out the curtain. To what end? If the woman wants to find me, she’ll find me.

Not on Earth, I said.

Speaking of Earth.

Yeah?

She looked out the window again, a faint frown on her face. That vessel we put Arsinua into. Do you think your Skriven friend could find her?

Lucy? I hadn’t thought about it, but now that she said it, it made sense. Was there a way for Ty to find her? Did Skriven put LoJack’s on their Formless Ones? I’ll ask him. Marantha, why do you keep staring out the window and frowning?

She twitched back the curtain, her face a mask. It’s time for you to go.

What’s wrong?

Go now. Just go.

The house shook as if hit by a powerful gust of wind. Glass shattered, and the curtains blew in from the windows. I almost went over onto my ass when the house shook again.

What’s out there? Is she out there? I shouted, clinging to the wall to keep myself upright.

Go! Let her play her games.

She can’t hold me, Marantha. I wanted to go outside and bust the Anforsa’s ass, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do any butt kicking while Kenda was mainlining the Omphalos.

Send her out and you won’t be killed, came a voice from outside. It was Kenda’s, amplified. The vibrations shook the walls and Marantha groaned.

I just got done paying for the last bit of destruction, she said, then raised her voice. You do not have my permission to enter my house, Anforsa Kenda! She glared at me and put her finger to her lips.

Plaster crumbled. A picture fell, hitting my shoulder as Kenda spoke again. I know she’s in there. I smell the stink of her Skriven magic.

You are insane. Go away or the Council will hear about this.

The laughter peeled the paint from the walls. The powder blue flakes sifted down on us like snow. I am the Council. They are me. It has been decreed that Devany Miller pays with her life for her crimes. And any who help her will be considered traitors and will be executed.

I’m not helping anyone. Last I checked, we had laws. Laws that didn’t include murdering people we are scared of.

I had to hand it to Marantha. She had big ole lady balls. I was terrified, but I could hook away if I had to. Marantha? Not so much. Still, she didn’t look scared so much as royally pissed off. She was scary when she was mad.

Send her out now, and I will promise you a fair trial.

Marantha made shooing motions with her hands. Get out of here, she whispered.

Not without you, I said quietly. She’s insane.

I can handle her.

More laughter. The witchballs that lit up Marantha’s living area fell off their pedestals, and I reeled back in fear. Are they going to explode?

Marantha ignored me. Go on.

Not without you.

She rolled her eyes at me. I can handle Kenda. If she kills me, she’ll regret it. She can either let me alone or face rebellion. Marantha shouted again, Isn’t that right, Kenda?

The house stopped shaking.

The silence was creepy.

Go ahead. Come in here and grab me. You won’t find the person you’re looking for. You won’t find anything but trouble. Marantha crossed the room to me and grabbed my arms. Don’t make a liar out of me. Get out of here now. You won’t do me any good if any of the Council members sees you here. Right now, it’s her word against mine and I still have friends in high places. Go.

Damn it, Marantha. Don’t get yourself killed.

Outside, the Anforsa shrieked her triumph. I hooked away as the side of Marantha’s house crumbled to dust.

Heart thundering, I stood in my bedroom at home and hoped to heck Marantha knew what she was doing. I didn’t need another death on my head, especially not the death of a friend.

THOUGH I’D SPENT A little over an hour with Dad and Marantha, five hours had flown by on Earth. I had only ten minutes before Liam would be home, so I stripped off my blood-stained, tea-moistened clothes and scrubbed my face in the bathroom, wincing when I got soap in the cut from Kali’s knife.

Clean, I padded to the closet and pulled a comfy t-shirt off a shelf along with my favorite faded blue jeans. I slipped on blue underwear and bra, the lacy silk making me smile. I put my hair up in a messy bun, then stared at my reflection in the mirror. Faint purple circles shadowed my eyes and was it me or were there more wrinkles there than last time I looked?

I smoothed on some skin cream, patting it on my chin and neck, too. I made it downstairs and had food heating on the stove when Liam walked in the door. He asked the same question every day and every day I had to let him down.

Did you find her?

I shook my head.

Some days he railed. Some days he went right up to his room. Some days he cried. Today he picked up our kitten weaving around his ankles and sat at the kitchen counter. I got a problem.

His tone was so despairing, I hurt for him. What’s wrong?

He yanked up the sleeve on the shirt he’d insisted on wearing this morning despite the projected high of eighty degrees. Delicately drawn black feathers decorated the underside of his arm. I leaned in, studying them. Did you do these? They’re really good.

They’re really real. He ran his finger over his skin, ruffling feathers in its wake. Cheeseweed batted at them with a small paw.

I stared, uncomprehending, as his skin shivered, and the feathers shifted to lay flat against his skin once more. When did this happen?

A few days ago. I dreamed I was flying. It was better than a lot of my flying dreams. I had control. I glided and swooped, and I never felt like I would fall. And then I woke up and my arm itched like hell. Heck. He licked his lips, his fingers curling in on his palm as if his arm itched now. What’s wrong with me?

I shut my eyes. Nothing. He was changing. Like Krosh’s people. Like Krosh. Do you want to take a trip to Midia?

Really? Do I get out of school?

How would I explain the disappearance of another of my children? I’d reported Bethy missing to the police, even though they wouldn’t be able to find her since she wasn’t on Earth to find. They had to be wondering what kind of dark cloud was following me around, anyway. Tom’s death. The murder of my friend’s ex-husband. And of course, the abuser Tytan killed at my request, the one who died in a jail cell with my name on his lips. Yeah. I’m pretty sure they excuse people when they break out in feathers. I attempted a grin. We can tell them you have chicken pox.

Liam rolled his eyes and for a moment, things were almost normal.

Then I hooked us to the Dreaming Caves and the last of normal fell away in shattered pieces to the ground.

THE CAVES WERE QUIET. Liam’s hand tightened around mine for a brief second and then he let go, unwilling, I supposed, to be an almost-teenager holding his mother’s hand. Come on, we’ll find Kroshtuka. He’ll know how to help you.

What’s wrong with me? I mean, what’s happening?

I had no idea how to explain it, so I took the chicken’s way out. I’ll let him talk with you about it. He’s a smart guy. I paused. Do you feel funny?

Mom. I’m growing feathers.

I mean besides that. Lightheaded? Full? I didn’t know if he would be affected by the hook sickness like he had when the Theleoni kidnapped him and his sister. Then, they’d almost died. I didn’t want it to happen again.

You mean like last time? No, I don’t think so. He rubbed his arms in remembered pain.

Well, the second you feel weird. Weirder. Tell me.

He nodded.

The stairs leading down from the Dream Caves were hewn from the rock in some places and supplemented with wooden steps in others. The first time I’d ascended them with Kroshtuka, his male insistence I would end up in bed with him had spurred my competitive nature. That he’d been right still kind of annoyed me. I mean, I was