Dust + Ashes: Blood + Water, #3

By Joss Hart

Things have gone pear-shaped for the Edwards family and their friends since escaping the Greater's most recent attack. Returned to the place it all started and imprisoned by those who should be their strongest allies, Sarah and Marcus find themselves at the mercy of the Hope Falls' Crows, while Benjamin Nash is branded a traitor and warded. RJ and Tia are both missing, and Lilian remains trapped by the viels half-a-world away.

 

The Greater's corruptive influence is spreading fast. Cities are falling. People are dying, or worse, changing.

 

DUST+ASHES is a journey across time and space to save the world and stop reality itself from being shredded. Truths will be revealed. Trust will be lost… and found in unlikeliest sources. And each member of the Edwards family will face their worst fears and decide whether to make a deal with the devil and end Sarah's fight on the edge of a blade, or sacrifice everything.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Larkinfree Press
• Release date: Nov 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215537077

Book preview

Prologue

IN DREAMS

SHE WAS ON A BEACH.

It was a perfect day, and Sarah remembered it quite clearly. Her mother had taken her, Tia, Alex, and Rosie out for shopping and sunning, while Marcus and RJ attended a Marlins’ game. It had been a girls’ day out for her fourteenth birthday—the last birthday Sarah would share with her friends in Miami before moving to New York. Now, she was reliving that day.

Except something was off.

Carnival music drifted from somewhere down the beach. She frowned as her attention was suddenly drawn to the colorful tents and game stalls sprouting like mushrooms below a ribbon of roller coaster track and a slowly turning Ferris wheel, all lit by garish neon lights that were unpleasantly bright even in the midday sun. The music sounded tinny and out-of-tune. As she took it all in, pain began throbbing dully in her temples. There hadn’t been a carnival.

Let’s go! Tia cried, noticing the fanfare. Before Sarah could stop her, the girl was sprinting across the sand. Of course Tia’d be excited to go; her sister loved anything that was even remotely thrill-seeking, and she was making straight for the roller coaster.

You’d better go after her, Lilian said. She leaned down, her face obscured as she gathered their towels. Sarah felt a sudden panic; she wanted to see her mother’s face, to know Lilian was really there. You girls go along and have fun. I’ll catch up.

Mom? Sarah asked. Lilian did not look up, but waved a hand, ushering Sarah to go.

Come on, Sar, Rosie said, taking Alex’s hand. Together, Sarah’s two best friends raced after Tia.

It’ll be fun. Let’s go on the Tilt-A-Hurl first! Alex called back. Sarah still hesitated. This wasn’t right. This hadn’t happened. There wasn’t a carnival that day. She was sure of it.

She trudged after her friends, studying the rides and games. The closer she got to them, the more sinister they appeared. The structures weren’t sound; their angles just off, so that it was difficult to judge their true size and shape. The Ferris wheel was rusted, coated by a fuzzy, orange substance and something else, dark green and violet strands that seemed to erode the metal wherever they touched.

This is a trap, she said and wondered why she’d said it. This should be a normal day, before... before... before what?

Sarah! Hurry, Alex called. She and Rosie were outside a squat building painted black with neon accents glowing in blacklight. Hall of Mirrors! the sign above the entrance proclaimed: Do you dare enter?

Tia went in here, Rosie added as they ducked inside.

Wait for me! Sarah called and ran after them. She hesitated again when she reached the entrance, lingering on the threshold, and peered into the dark interior. Just go in, she berated herself. You said you’d take care of Tia. You have to go in after her, you have to.

As she stepped inside, a blast of cold air greeted her. She shivered, moving farther from the entrance and the warm sunlight beaming in, and abruptly found herself facing her reflection. It was twisted; a funhouse monster gazing back at her with a too-large head and glassy eyes, a tiny torso, and spindly, long legs. All around her appeared more and more similarly disturbing versions of herself.

Guys? she called. Tia? Rosie? Al?

She navigated forward through the disconcerting labyrinth with arms outstretched, bumping into glass panels left and right. Her warped duplicates surrounded her, walking toward or beside or away from her. A strobe light flashed overhead, stinging her eyes. In her chest, her heartbeat quickened.

thumpthumpthump

Tia? A room opened around her, ringed with dozens of her reflections. She had reached the heart of the maze. Rotating slowly, she tried discerning the way out, but could only see the circle of hers at every angle. Where are you guys?

She finished turning. All her reflections looked utterly bewildered. Then, one of them moved independently, and Sarah yelped. It wasn’t a reflection but a woman with a nasty scar marring her cheek. Catherine Greene, Sarah recognized her familial resemblance. Auntie Cathy. The scarred woman lowered her hand and a boy appeared in front of her, held tight by her manicured fingers squeezing his shoulder.

RJ? Sarah asked.

They stood in a gap between Sarah’s reflections. RJ stared at his older sister in wide-eyed horror. He gave the slightest shake of his head as Sarah stepped toward them.

Come along, dear child, Catherine said and dragged RJ back into the shadows. Sarah darted after them.

The mirrors began to spin. Sarah halted, feeling dizzy, and squeezed her eyes shut as the pounding in her head intensified. A shrill cry echoed through the hall to her right. She whirled around and opened her eyes, glaring toward where the sound had originated as the mirrors stopped spinning. As she took another step forward, the mirror directly in front of her cracked. Her reflection vanished as the two halves of the mirror angled away from her, but at their new angles, she saw Tia flit by.

Sarah whirled again, following her sister’s path around the circle of mirrors. She glanced behind her, but the room was empty. She was alone; Tia was inside the mirrors.

Sarah? What are you doing? Catherine’s voice called. Come along, I said. I have something of yours. Don’t you want to save him?

RJ suddenly darted toward her through another gap in the reflections, shaking his head.

RJ, what— As quickly as Sarah spoke, the boy was snatched away once more by those terrible, lacquered claws. RJ, no!

Hey, kiddo.

Sarah froze, tasting bile at the sound of this voice. Out of the corner of her eye, another figure materialized in the glass, completing her nightmare. And that’s exactly what it was, she realized. That’s why it was all wrong. It was just another bloody nightmare.

You’re not real, she cried as she faced her biological father. Yet, Eddie Greene wasn’t looking at her. He had his back to her and hadn’t reacted to her response. Sarah took a sideways step, trying to see who he was addressing.

This is all wrong, he said. This is not the way a rational person behaves.

You’re not real. The echo of her words came in Tia’s voice. Sarah took another step, trying to see past her father, and there, reflecting in yet another mirror across from him, was Tia. She was sitting on a bed holding a burning match. You’re not real. Go away.

Tia? Sarah said. The girl (and Tia was a girl again, as she’d been five years ago when they’d first gone to Hope Falls, as she’d been at the start of this nightmare) was staring at Eddie, looking right at her. But she made no indication that she could see Sarah. Tia, I’m right here—

The floor gave way. Sarah screamed as she plummeted, the Greater’s pulse banging louder and louder, rushing toward her, a wave crashing ashore. She hit the sand hard, sending up a splash of briny water.

She was on a beach.

She scrambled upright as an indefinite shape swelled out of the roiling sea, looming over her and the rest of the world. It was immense, beyond comprehension, it was the ocean and the twilit sky and all of creation, and it was desperate, stretching toward her with an impossible tendril. The appendage glistened, its surface mirrorlike and she saw again another reflection.

whumpwhumpwhump

Trembling, she lifted her hand and reached for it. Just before her fingers brushed the reflection, a sharp pain stung her hand, and she saw a dark point appear through the back of it. She turned her hand over. A needle-like thorn was driven all the way through the center of her palm. A drop of blood fell from the exit wound, hit the water and spread out, first staining the ocean red, then violet, then back to blue. She looked at her injured hand and saw that the fresh blood leaking from her wound was all of these colors mingled together. It’s the same, she thought, the blood and the water.

Her hand throbbed in time with her heartbeat, which in turn matched the Greater’s pulse. She sat back and stared up at the indefinite shape, focusing on the throbbing pain, feeling it slow. They were at a standstill, but everything was winding down. It was almost over. It was almost time.

Sarah woke up.

Part One

Crows

I.

I fall. I watch your face, your precious face so shocked and scared, your outstretched arms grasping helplessly, recede. I want to call to you—It’s all right or Run—or maybe I just want to scream. But then you’re gone. Everything’s gone. There’s nothing.

A noise like metal rods in a wood-chipper. Every inch of my body is instantly wracked with pain. I’m alight. I’ll burst into flames at any moment. The agony and sound go on. How long? A moment? An eternity? Feels like it.

Eventually, the sound and nothingness fade to murky shadows and the weight of them crushes down. I can’t breathe. My eyes are about to pop. That terrible sound blares in my head again, and I’m torn apart, cell by cell, molecule by molecule, until I’m no more.

Chapter One

CONFINED

SOMETHING WAS HAPPENING. Sarah Edwards bolted upright and glanced at the floor.

Seventy-five hash marks were etched into the cement there. Seventy-six days gone by. Almost three months. That’s how long it had been since Blackwing fell. Since she’d been imprisoned by the Crows in this room. Beyond its walls, she had no idea what was happening to the wider world, to her family and friends, to anything or anyone outside its confines.

Well, almost no idea.

Despite all precautions, she was still aware of the Greater, distantly. She still dreamed, and in her dreams, she sensed her connection to its hivemind laid out before her with all its individual viel nodules just out of reach, like watching a hungry lion through protective glass at a zoo.

Her prison was Spartan; a military-issue cot sat at its center as far from the walls as possible. Salt-lick blocks were stacked floor-to-ceiling against the walls, allowing a yard of walking space between them and two consecutive lines of rock salt meticulously poured around her cot—wards in which she’d been instructed to stay at the very center of at all times, and she’d been all too happy to oblige, at first. She needed the Crows’ help; she wanted to earn their trust, so she’d done as requested. But Connor Daggett, the Crows’ brusque leader and her only human contact these past few months, wasn’t taking any chances. To him, she was the enemy: dangerous and wily, not to be trusted in the least. No matter what she said to convince him to work together and despite her good behavior, his attitude remained inflexible.

It made her want to scream, but what good would that accomplish? She needed the Crows—as far as she knew, Blackwing was gone, and the Crows were the only allies she had left. She wondered, not for the first time, what had happened to her stepfather, Marcus, and their friend, the ex-Crow Benjamin. They’d been captured along with her. But, as with everything else, Daggett remained mum on the subject whenever she brought it up. He was proving as stubborn and close-minded as a blindfolded jackass with cotton stuffed in its ears, and Sarah’s patience was wearing thin. The sense of urgency that had been pulsing stronger in her mind did not help.

A grating sound drew her attention to the heavy, steel door as its viewport slid open. Through it, a pair of muddy eyes peered at her for a moment before the door itself gave a resounding clunk, swung open, and Daggett stepped in. In one hand he held a bucket with a washcloth draped over its rim. In the other, a plate. A pungent, fishy smell bombarded Sarah’s nostrils as he strode into the cell and stepped carefully over the first salt circle. He walked deftly around the perimeter of the second to face her. He stopped there and set the bucket down on her side of the ward.

Sarah looked at the plate in his hand. Raw fish for breakfast. Again.

Glancing back toward the door, the Crow leader motioned with his free hand. Bring it, he called.

A brunette woman and a short, dark-haired man appeared, carrying a plastic picnic table. Both were as careful as their leader had been as they stepped over the salt circles and set it down halfway across the second one. A plate of scrambled eggs, steak, and toast was placed along with a glass of orange juice and appropriate silverware—actual silverware, Sarah thought—and a newspaper on Daggett’s side of the table between the salt circles.

This was different. Sarah cocked a questioning eyebrow at Daggett as the other Crows walked back to the door. The brunette woman didn’t exit, however, and took up a defensive stance just inside the room.

Leaning over, Daggett set the plate of raw fish in front of Sarah before taking a seat.

I thought we’d have a little chat over breakfast this fine morn, just you and me, he said.

And her? Sarah asked, gesturing toward the door. Daggett waved a hand to his guard.

Go on, Rebecca. You can wait outside.

Sir? The woman hesitated.

I’ll be fine, Daggett assured. Won’t I, Sarah? You’ve been quite the amiable captive thus far. I have nothing to fear from you, do I? But mind the salt as you sit down, there’s a good lass.

Are you really asking me that? Sarah asked. I’ve told you over and over that I’m not your enemy, I—

Go, Rebecca. Daggett interrupted with another wave. The brunette nodded, but as she left the room, she gave Sarah a peculiar look before closing the door. Was it sympathy? Fear? Compassion? Before she could be certain, the door shut, and Rebecca was gone.

Daggett rolled up his sleeves and tucked heartily into his breakfast. Sarah looked at what he’d brought her. It was a pale, smooth creature, eyeless and sharp-toothed, like something that might lurk in pools deep underground after evolving eons without light. Her mouth began to water.

Caught that in a stream south of town. Nasty-looking bugger, innit? Not any species I recognize, but then... things like that have been popping up more and more frequently all around here since the ‘quake. He shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth. Anyway, enjoy.

Wrinkling her nose, Sarah picked up the fish and sniffed it. It smelled off, perhaps a bit rancid, but nothing she needed to worry about. Her stomach rumbled. She didn’t like it, but her body craved something in the mutated fish, its corruption apparently delicious to her inhuman constitution. She began to eat, trying to be as polite about it as she could, nibbling daintily on the thing in her hands with just her teeth. It wasn’t like Daggett had brought utensils for her.  

Her crude munching didn’t seem to trouble the Crow leader’s appetite, though. He continued wolfing down his food, focusing mostly on his own plate. After a moment, he even began chatting, his entire demeanor rather jovial compared to his usual gruffness.

I have a family. Wife o’thirty years. Three daughters, all redheads and exactly what you’d expect of that. God, they were a handful when they were wee. But they’re all grown up now. My youngest is... oh, about five years older’n you and about to be married down in the Keys. Destination weddings aren’t cheap, you know, but she and her man’ve worked hard to earn it, and I took on a few extra clients to help ‘em out a bit, least I could do.

What was this? Sarah wondered. Connor Daggett had barely given her a proper introduction, let alone shared intimate details from his personal life over the past months. Everything she knew about the Crow leader from Benjamin, Tia, and her own blasé interactions made him out to be singularly focused on fighting viels and serving the Crows, if as gruffly and at odds with everyone else as possible. This was weird, out of character. Curious, Sarah opened her Third Eye and bit down a startled yelp at what she Saw.

A hulking, raven man sat across from her, feral, red eyes glaring at her. It turned its head, snapping its bloodied beak as Daggett chewed. Tufts of mottled fur poked out through ragged feathers under his beak and around his shoulders, paralleling his beard, and he wore a necklace laced with various teeth: shark teeth, needle-like teeth of a deep-sea fish, a few that looked like they’d belonged to a large land carnivore. There were even a couple that looked disturbingly human. All bloodied, unclean, and proudly displayed.

That’s... nice, Sarah said, shaken. I didn’t know that you had a family or a job or anything.

Oh, yes. I own a construction company. We specialize in housing additions. Nhilven, the man who just helped Rebecca with the table, and a few of the others here work for me. We all like to keep the two facets of our lives separate, understand? There’s work and family—the real-life stuff if you will—and then there’s all of this. He gestured with his fork around the stark confines of the room.

Sarah nodded. Other than the ferocity of Daggett’s dream appearance, there wasn’t anything to indicate he was under a spell. She relaxed her Sight, not closing it entirely, just in case, and Daggett became human once more. I understand, she said.

Hmmm’sure you do. He took a vicious bite of steak. Family’s important, isn’t it? The whole reason I started running with this lot was to protect mine. The world, too, but mostly for them. Their world, the real world. It’s required a lot of sacrifice—a lot of time away from them, a lot of danger, and a lot of secrets. And I can’t tell them... couldn’t bear telling them, having them know. All the horrific things I’ve seen, things I’ve done... His gaze drifted, distant for just a moment before fixing back on her. For a split second, he bristled, his dream form reappearing and sprouting additional hair all over. He snapped his beak, and a row of bloodied fangs were visible within it. Then, he was himself, human, the mystical vision evaporating. But I do it for them. Above all else, they are what matter most to me, what I fight for. My family.

He peered at her, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening as he studied her face. Do you really understand that, Sarah?

Of course I do.

He barked a laugh and shook his head. Oh, that’s rich, you sayin’ that. If you really understood, you’d have the decency to just die. No muss, no fuss. Save the world and let it spin on. But you just keep making things worse and worse by simply existing. His expression turned to an intent glower; all amiable pretense abandoned. Here was the familiar, rough-edged Daggett. He jammed a finger down on the newspaper. World’s ending. A hurricane wiped out a good stretch of the northeastern seaboard about a week back, and they’re tracking another coming in fast, following the same trajectory. What are the odds o’that? Oh, he flipped open and pointed to another page, here’s something about a tsunami hitting Down Under. The whole Ring of Fire’s been causing quite the stir around the Pacific. Those are just the natural disasters. Want to hear about the latest acts of terrorism? How the London quarantine’s going?

Sarah straightened. I don’t want the world to end. I don’t want my family or anyone else to suffer, either. You think I want any of this to happen? You think I want to be this... this... Vessel?

You say that, but how can I trust you, Sarah? His brow furrowed as the seconds ticked on. "Sure, you’ve been cooperative, in here, insulated from the rest of the world, but how can I know what twisted thoughts churn through your mind? You say you love your family and want to help them, but how can I know you’re not choosing your words so that even your truthsayer stepfather is fooled? You might mean your half-siblings and mother and Marcus, but you’re also half-Greene. Half-viel. If I spill your blood, it won’t be red, will it?"

Sarah glared back at him, feeling the mess of the scales and fish guts on her fingers and around her mouth. She wiped it away. I’m not like them. My mind is my own. I swear to it.

Is it, though? He was still studying her carefully. "How can I be certain? I know my people, and I trust them. I’ve spent the last few years recruiting and training those I know I can trust. People who’ve seen this world slowly circling the loo and want to stop it getting flushed. I know their priorities, their minds. I’ve made certain they haven’t been corrupted and won’t be tempted by the devils of Hope Falls. They have things to fight for, to hold on to and take care of. Rebecca has her uncle and her mother. Nhil has his extended family. Right now, the world’s still spinning on, a little wobbly and getting more so every day, but more or less stable. For now. Part of keeping that stability is seeing that the normal things keep on as if it weren’t all about to topple over. Go to work, see your family, build a house, plan bleedin’ weddings. These are normal, hardworking folk, and they want to do what is right. What do you want?"

I want all that, too. And I want us to be allies. You said yourself I’ve been amiable. It was a struggle to keep her tone civil. Sarah pointed at the salt circles and then at the small web camera above the door. "I haven’t even stepped out of the bounds you laid; you know that. It’s been over two months. Haven’t I proven to you that I am in control? Go get my stepfather and bring him here. He’ll tell you I’m not lying."

The bearded man’s eyes narrowed. True. I could do that, but how do I know I can trust him? That he won’t lie to protect you? How can I trust either of you? You understand my predicament, don’t you, Sarah? I have to go away for the sake of keeping up the facade of the ordinary world spinning on, but how can I be sure I’m coming back to it? He cocked his head.

Sarah didn’t know what to say. What could she say? Every plea she made to this man fell on deaf, paranoid ears. He was still looking at her as if expecting something, an answer, anything, studying her so intently. And then it hit her. The off smell of the fish. It wasn’t just rot. Looking down, she studied her meal.

You poisoned it? she asked.

Had to try. His eyes darted back and forth, searching for any changes in her fortitude. I’ve been tinkering with potions. Valerian, of course, to dull your powers. Salt and juniper to dispel any mischievous thoughts or airs you may be harboring. And aconite. Wolfsbane. Enough of the distilled neurotoxin to kill an elephant. Feel anything?

Sarah could have laughed. Just minor annoyance. And you call me the monster.

But you are! Daggett snapped. "The world’s rotting because of you. You should have died in your cradle, yet here you are. You sit here and ask me to help your family. Your stepfather does the same in his cell. Let’s team up and stop the viels together, you both say. But I know what you are, the truth of what you are, and I know the second the Greater gets its hooks in you, poof. We’re done. It’s not a matter of keeping the monster sealed up so it can’t reach you. It’s a matter of ending you before it can. Like we should’ve done two decades ago."

Do you really think I deserve to die just for how I was born? Sarah asked.

Why do you think you deserve to live if everyone else has to die?

Daggett—

She started to rise, pushing herself up from the table, but before she could utter another word, he jammed his fork down on her hand, hard. He followed up with the steak knife, pressing it to her throat, but neither utensil broke her stone-hard skin. She blinked, more startled by his sudden movement than by fear of injury, and felt a slight pinch of the fork against her hand. The Crow leader was really putting his all into it.

Even this does nothing, he growled. He sucked in a breath. "Burn. Cruthaich craiceann cloiche, pìos domhainn, agus tarraing fuil."

Suddenly, Sarah felt two sharp pricks, one in her hand and one at her throat. She flinched back. At the same time, Daggett sagged forward in his chair, arms dropping, and the silver fork and knife clattered from his hands. When he looked up at her, breathing hard, blood was trickling from his nose into his beard.

Damn, he wheezed. But a tiny smile tugged his lips as his bloodshot gaze fell on the dropped silverware. On the tip of each utensil was a violet stain. Well, look at that. Four tiny purplish dots had appeared on the back of Sarah’s hand. Touching her neck, her hand came away smeared violet to match the stains on the fork and knife. Maybe there’s hope after all.

He began gathering up his place setting, then paused, coughing. More scarlet blood flecked the plate, but he cleared his throat and shook it off. He left the knife where it was and gave her a telling look. If you are as you say, in complete control of your own mind, why not do us all a favor while I’m away. I understand it might be hard, considering your fortitude, but I’m confident that if you’re really determined to save this world, you’ll make it happen.

Sarah stared at the knife, shaken. Slowly, she raised her gaze to him. You’re so focused on my death as the solution to our problem you don’t even consider other options. We can end the cycle so that in another few hundred years there won’t be another Vessel, no more needless killing, no more threat at all. The spell Blackwing—

Blackwing! Blackwing’s gone, meddled with what they ought not have! Besides, we had the luxury of time for all that before. Not anymore. He banged on the door. Now, if you’ll excuse me. That took quite a bit out of me, and I have a wedding to attend. His muddy eyes were grave as he gave her a final nod. Goodbye, Sarah.

Wait! What about Marcus and Benjamin—

The door swung open, and Daggett stepped out without a backward glance, brushing past Rebecca, who looked startled by his bloodied, haggard appearance.

Are you—

I’m fine, Daggett snapped, interrupting her. Lock it up.

At his uttered command, the woman hurried to close the door. She met Sarah’s gaze as she did and Sarah Saw a luminous, transparent cloth wrapped around her head like a blindfold. Through its sheen, she again noticed something like sympathy flash across Rebecca’s expression. Before Sarah could say anything, though, the door snapped shut once more, leaving her alone with the remnants of her poisoned breakfast.

II.

I’m in a circle of soft, green light. The pain’s gone, but relief is short lived. It’s gone, I realize, because I feel so little. My senses are dulled. Everything’s gray, fuzzy, like I’m swimming in static. Within the light everything is washed out, nearly colorless. Beyond it, utter blackness presses in. I’m neither cold nor hot. The air’s neither fresh nor stale. I taste nothing, smell nothing, and, despite my mouth and tongue feeling slightly fuzzy, I’m neither thirsty nor hungry. Even the weight and pressure of my body against the ground—if it can be called ground; it’s just more blackness—feels off, like its mass has transmogrified to the consistency of a Rice Krispy Treat.

But there’s no pain, and I don’t seem injured. I think I’m fine. Just discomforted. I don’t like the lurking darkness, though. It feels alive, like it has more mass, more solidity, than I do; like it isn’t merely an absence of light, but a writhing, waiting thing, eager for me to step into it.

As I watch it, something moves in my periphery and I almost scream.

It’s him. Standing at the edge of the light, almost engulfed by the darkness. He looks at me, and my anger and fear erupt. It’s a good feeling. Hate, loathing! I’m not happy, but at least I’m feeling something again. Everything that’s happened in the past week, everything I suffered so long ago that was locked away in the depths of my mind. It bubbles up and bursts to the surface. I remember it all.

And then I do scream.

Chapter Two

PRISONERS

KEEP YOUR EYES ON YOUR work, traitor.

Benjamin Nash frowned and dropped his gaze back to the row of bushes he was harvesting. He started plucking juniper berries again and dropping them into his bucket, trying to ignore Cyndee’s glare and the three people that had just stepped out onto the front porch of the Nest: Daggett, who was holding a bloody handkerchief to his face, Becky Adams, and Nhilven Tan. The Lord and his Hands, all speaking in tantalizingly hushed voices. Just keep your head down, he thought. Don’t start trouble. Not yet.

Benjamin. Daggett’s call dragged his attention back again a moment later. The bearded man had lowered the handkerchief and was beckoning him over. A word, if you will.

He’s not finished with his chores, Cyndee said, petulantly. She, like Becky and Nhilven, was one of Daggett’s new recruits, a thickset woman with dark, short-cropped hair. She crossed her well-muscled arms.

It can wait a mo’, girl, Daggett said. You might as well get over here, too, so everyone understands what’s to happen while I’m away.

Daggett was leaving, trusting the kids to stay home alone with a loaded gun in the cellar? Benjamin dropped the last few berries into his bucket and set it aside, mindful of the iron shackles that didn’t so much as bind his wrists as dampen his mystical powers. This would be interesting.

Let’s see your hands, Daggett said to him as they joined him on the porch. Benjamin held up his hands. Reaching into his pocket, the bearded man produced an old key and unlocked the shackles. Benjamin shivered as his magical sense sharpened.

What are you doing? Nhilven asked. You can’t just let him—

Hush, Nhil, Daggett said. I trained him. I know what he’s capable of and I also know that, traitor though he may be, he’s been on his best behavior and has our best interest at heart. He knows what’s at stake better than most and he’s also the most powerful mystic we have.

All the more reason to keep him shackled, Nhilven said.

Becky gave Benjamin an appraising look. I’d rather have him ready to fight if we need him, she said. What if we’re attacked?

God forbid, Daggett said. But it’s always a possibility. And that is exactly why I want him free of his restraints while I’m gone. He fixed the young man with a scrutinizing gaze, nodding his head thoughtfully. You’ll take care of our people, won’t you, Benjamin, should the need arise? I can trust you to do the right thing, can’t I?

You can trust me, Benjamin said. He hoped he sounded sincere as he meant it, but it was hard to tell with Daggett. The man trusted no one. But, inexplicably, he nodded.

Good lad, he said. He handed the shackles to Becky and reached out, clapping Benjamin on the back. Benji’s one of us. He’s had a few wayward years, but now he’s back and you heard what he said. We can trust him. Obviously, I still want Nhil acting as his chaperone while I’m away, and Becky, too, as needed. I’ll trust you with those binders.

What about me? Cyndee said. I don’t like it. He’s got a bad attitude.

So do you, but we put up with you, Becky chimed, giving the other woman a playful nudge. Benjamin tried his best to keep a straight face.

You won’t have to deal with him, Cynd, Daggett said. You’re going home. Our guests are locked up tight. They aren’t going anywhere, so we don’t need everyone moving in and out of the Nest willy-nilly. I won’t be here to hand out assignments, so just take some time off, go home and relax. You’ve all been working hard, so you’ve earned a spot of respite. He gave her a reassuring smile, but Cyndee still shot Benjamin a glare. Nhilven didn’t exactly look thrilled either.

But—

If any problems do arise, Daggett added, gesturing to the shackles in Becky’s hand. Our ex-cop can enforce the law. You just worry about keeping things running, Nhil, and that goes for the mundane side of our business, too.

As you say, boss, Nhilven said, and Cyndee murmured an assent as well.

There you go, Daggett said. All in order. Now, if there’s nothing else, I’ll be on my merry way.

There was nothing else. Daggett departed, leaving Benjamin standing with the remaining Crows. He rubbed his wrists, feeling decidedly scrutinized and uncertain. He was free, at least from the restraints, but there was still work to be done.

You’re not going to blow us all up? Nhilven asked.

Why would I do that? Benjamin said. The dark-haired man shrugged.

Cyndee gave a dramatic sigh. No more gardening, she said. She flexed a dirty, calloused hand. I should get a manicure. Treat myself. She chuckled. Call me if you need me, Nhil. Have fun with the weirdos.

With a laugh, she trotted away across the crumbling parking lot, climbed into a beater Honda Civic, and drove off.

And then there were three, Becky murmured. She gave Benjamin a thoughtful look before regarding Nhilven. What’s on our agenda?

Well, Nhilven said. The prisoners have been fed. I think Daggett’s got another supply order being delivered to his drop box today. You wanna pick it up and bring it back? I gotta do payroll for the company, and I figured I’d do that while chaperoning the kid while he’s prepping supplies.

Becky gave Benjamin another thoughtful look, and for a fleeting, hopeful moment he thought she was about to ask him to join her instead. But then she shrugged. Fine. But that’s a long drive, so I better be reimbursed for gas, she said and smiled. And try to play nice, Nhil. I don’t want to come back to any unseemly crime scenes.

She left, too, and Benjamin sucked in a calming breath as he followed Nhilven back to the garden, gathered up the harvest, and carried it inside.

THE REST OF THE DAY passed with excruciating slowness. Sarah paced the inner circle of her warded cell, considering her situation. Usually, when she got bored, she did calisthenics and yoga routines to pass the time and stay active. She recited anything she could remember—poetry, lyrics, speeches, monologues, phone numbers, jingles. It always ended with her belting out entire musical soundtracks, which served to raise her mood. But not today.

No one came to bring another meal or change her bucket. The plate of poisoned, mutant fish remained on the table, untouched since morning. Sarah wondered if Daggett thought to starve her out in his absence. Not that she had much of an appetite. The stink of rotting fish and human waste was reaching weapons-grade levels of olfactory torment. To quell the problem, she dumped the fish carcass into the bucket and set the plate over its opening. It didn’t help.

She glanced at the silver knife sitting atop the plate. Maybe Daggett assumed she’d really take him up on his suggestion to kill herself and such trivial matters as toilet, food, and cleanliness would no longer matter. She had no intention of giving in, though. Years earlier, just after she’d first matured into the Vessel, she might not have objected. Her suicide would have quelled the chaotic energy now bombarding the world before it had gotten so out of hand. But she’d come too far, had fought too long to give up now, and she had to do something to clean up the mess she’d been directly, or indirectly, responsible for. And she wouldn’t let down those who had helped her along the way, who had convinced her that she was more than just a destroyer. She’d stop the Greater. Somehow...

Her stomach gave a queasy rumble. She did her best to ignore it and turned her thoughts on the dream she’d had the previous night. Her dreams were never just dreams but omens of a sort, and she focused on the details, letting her mind inhabit what she could recall. She was not imprisoned in a filthy cell, but back home in Miami, laying on the beach in the warm sun. Rosie and Alex were there, as was Tia and their mother. She concentrated, remembering the smell of the sea breeze as it picked up tantalizing hints of grilled hot dogs and burgers as it swept down the beach and over them. In this memory, there was no twisted carnival. It had been a perfect day; the perfect memory to use as an escape from this prison she was in. All she had to do was convince herself she was still there, to really believe it just long enough to go to sleep.

So, there she was, on a beach. Not in a sealed room lined with salt, not in a Bog of Eternal Stench, not secluded from everyone she loved and ignored by those she begged for help.

She was on a beach. The unclouded sky was vibrantly orange, fading to deep violet behind her. Neither the sun nor the moon was visible, but a spray of cold, white stars burned above the twilit dunes bordering the beach. There was something both alien and yet all-too familiar about this timeless beach.

Waves crashed in and out. Across the sand, bits and pieces of nautilus shells were uncovered as the water washed over them and then retracted. Rivulets and streams formed, swirling around the revealed shapes, and Sarah stopped, bending low to study an intact specimen glistening in the starlight. Enticed by its beauty, she reached out to pick it up, but hesitated just before her fingers brushed its pearly surface. Don’t, she thought suddenly. Don’t touch it, just admire, just look.

Suddenly, the complex design unfurled around her, and she drew back, keeping her distance as the brackish water continued to withdraw, revealing more and more of the scattered wreckage shining like ill-colored constellations in the dark seabed. It seemed a wicked mirror of the sky, and she felt the Greater’s presence lurking inside each of the gleaming shells. The hivemind.

As Sarah studied it, she was reminded of RJ. He loved the stars and space and had often recited the names of the constellations to show off, but she saw none of the familiar shapes that he loved here. She searched, anyway. If Catherine Greene had her brother as a hostage and was using him as bait to draw her to the Rend, Sarah thought maybe she could find him within the hivemind without psychically touching it. Maybe she could contact him somehow and reassure him that she would save him. She scrambled up the nearest dune, putting distance between her and the hivemind, and tried instead to See where her brother might be. He felt close, but...

The water rose in the distance, gathering larger, taller, tsunami-like, until it finally demanded her attention. A massive shape emerged from the oily wave and loomed into the molten sky, blocking out the stars as the liquid shape collapsed around it. Water cascaded off titanic, scaly flanks. The immense being turned toward Sarah and slouched down to meet her.

Sarah gave a weary sigh as she acknowledged it. Why can’t you just leave me alone?

YOU ARE MINE. MY TOOL. MY GREAT WORK.

No, I’m not. Not a tool, not a thing, not yours to use. I’m a person, she said. A deep reverberation made the air tremble.

A TOOL OF MY BLOOD, MY BODY, MY CREATION, MY FUTURE.

Sarah frowned. The Greater had been in her head before, and their brief conversations tended to go nowhere fast. But it had never manifested to her quite so directly before. If I’m your future, what are you, exactly? Ancient evil, progenitor, yadda yadda yadda, I’ve heard the basics from everyone else. I want you to tell me the truth, directly.

A pause, contemplative.

THE GREATER IS ANCIENT, THE GREATER IS PATIENT, THE GREATER IS ALL THAT WAS AND WILL BE AGAIN. WE OBSERVE, WE STUDY, WE TINKER, WE CREATE, AND CONTROL! WE MADE OURSELF THIS WAY, MASTER OF CREATION, MASTER OF WILL. BUT WE WERE MADE NOTHING BY THE COLLAPSE. TRAPPED AND ALONE. THERE WERE GLIMPSES, EVENTUALLY. AND BRIEF ENCOUNTERS. THERE WAS A CONTINUANCE, A HOPE, BUT ONE THAT DEFIED OUR WILL.

The black water rose again, and Sarah realized it was crashing toward her and fast. She braced herself as the rogue wave swept her off the dune and into the depths, falling toward the hivemind. As she had so many times before, she felt herself sinking. She tasted salt on her lips, felt it tingle along her skin.

WE SAMPLED THE PRIMORDIAL OCEAN OF THIS WORLD, FOUND IT UNPLEASANT AND HOSTILE. NOT SUITABLE FOR LIFE, BUT LIFE DEVELOPED NONETHELESS. SUCH FORTITUDE! SUCH PECULIARITIES! CAREFULLY, OH SO CAREFULLY, WE PICKED THE UNNATURAL ORGANISMS APART, LEARNED THEM INSIDE AND OUT, LEARNED WHAT MADE THEM TICK!, MADE IMPROVEMENTS AND, FINALLY, REASSEMBLED THEM...

The water drained away, and Sarah lifted her head in time to see something slimy and amphibious wriggle out of the mud. Rudimentary lungs pumping, it took its first, hesitant steps upon the land. Abruptly, it was snatched from its journey by a tendril of shadow and drawn into the corruption. It was spat back out a moment later, twisted and shining with darklight. It scraped at the mud, squealing with urgency, until other creatures began to emerge. One-by-one, the primordial Vessel led them to the Rend, where they, too, were caught.

THE FIRST VESSELS. WEAK, IMPERFECT, BUT A STARTING POINT. TEMPERING WAS REQUIRED, AND WITH A TEMPERED VESSEL, THE GREATER COULD VENTURE INTO THIS SPLENDID, NEW REALITY, HARSH AND TOXIC THOUGH IT WAS, TO EXPAND OUR WILL AND ONCE AGAIN ASSUME MASTERY OVER ALL EXISTENCE.

From this tiny Rend, abominations began to pour. They squelched toward Sarah, hissing and sputtering, tendrils of slime lashing toward her. She scrambled back, gaining her feet, and started to run. Then she stopped, teetering on the edge of the hivemind. The field of nautilus shells dazzled before her, the abominations closing in behind. She couldn’t cross that line. She had to get out. Had to wake up. Had to get back to her cell and—

She was out of the cot and running for the door in the instant she woke, jumping over the first two salt circles. As she passed out of them, the Greater’s pulse became a drumline in her head—louder and closer than ever. She touched the door, ready to tear it from its hinges, and froze with fingers touching its steel. She screamed as the unbearable racket hammered her head.

What was she doing? She mustn’t leave the room. Had to stay within the salt circles. She couldn’t risk leading the viels here. With a pained growl, she leapt back to the center of the room and gasped in relief as the pounding beat returned to a quiet pulse. That had been close. Too close. They’d almost got her. She had...

She had left the central salt circle, something she had been vigilant to not do since being stuck here. She had boasted about that to Daggett, yet as soon as he’d left, she’d almost lost control. Her heart pounded in her chest.

It shouldn’t have happened. She was shielded behind every ward the Crows could muster,

(are they really that effective?)

had quite faithfully remained locked in by her own free will,

(our Will)

and yet,

(and yet...)

she had bumbled forth right into it. She shouldn’t be able to sense the hivemind, and yet she did. She could See it clearly,

(like always, but don’t look directly at it.)

even if she couldn’t interact with it.

(not couldn’t—shouldn’t)

(Headaches. Pounding. Always, even a little behind the wards. Makes you wonder. Think, think, think...)

(always her. Always us)

NO.

The viels had RJ. That much she knew. They had him close by, probably near the Rend, and they were trying to lure her out. She wondered if that had been an attempt to control her via blood magic. Which meant they were getting desperate, and RJ wouldn’t have long. She couldn’t not try to save him, but it was so obviously a trap and there was no one available to ask for help.

She sighed as she sat back down on the cot. There was nothing she could do. Barging out would put the Crows at risk, possibly drawing the viels down on her only potential allies and bringing the brunt of the Greater’s Will against her own. She remembered all too well how that had felt in Blackwing Tower and wasn’t eager to do that again, not unprepared. And once the viels found her, it was likely they might just kill RJ anyway.

There was nothing she could do. She was utterly trapped. Somehow, she had to convince the Crows to help, but without them knowing she could still sense the hivemind. It was her only window out of this prison, but if they knew about it, knew just how close to the Greater she was, any good faith she may have built with them would go right out the window.

She looked back at the knife again. That wasn’t an option, but the silver blade held her gaze—and thoughts—for a long, long while.

SARAH WAS STARTLED from her solitude by the door clanging open. Being underground meant she had no way to know what time it was, but she thought it was far earlier (or later) than usual for her captors to check in. When she sat up, she saw the brunette guard from yesterday step in. The woman’s nose wrinkled