“She is safe in the Bradbury, but for how long? How safe are any of us? Any safety is temporary as long as Sebastian lives.”
Ignoring Church’s indignant meow, Emma reached across the table and put her hand over Julian’s. Don’t fear for me, parabatai, she thought. This is a chance for both of us. For you to save Livvy as you could not in our world, and for me to avenge my parents, as I could not either.
“We’ll do it,” she said, and Julian’s eyes blazed like tinder set alight. “Of course we will. Just tell us what we have to do.”
* * *
As they climbed onto the cycles, Diana warned them they’d be driving back on surface streets, not flying—the closer it got to nightfall, she said, the more full the skies were of demons. Even the vampires stayed out of the air after dark.
Emma was surprised to discover Diana had woken them up later in the day than she’d thought. The nuances of morning light, afternoon light, and evening light were lost here: There was only the dying sun and the blood moon. As their motorcycles raced along the Pacific Coast Highway, the moon rose sluggishly, barely illuminating the road ahead. Instead of sparkling on top of the waves, the moonlight turned the water an even more poisonous color—no longer Blackthorn blue-green, but ashy black.
Emma was glad for the warmth of Julian’s arms around her as they turned off the highway and onto Wilshire. To be this close to all that was ruined was painful. She knew these streets. She had been to this supermarket to pick up cereal for Tavvy: It was a ruin of smashed wood and broken beams now, where a few unsworn humans huddled around watch fires, their faces haggard with desperation and hunger. And there had been a candy store on this corner, where now a demon proprietor stood watch over rows of glass tanks in which drowned bodies floated. Every once in a while he would plunge a ladle into one of the tanks, pour some of the viscous water into a bowl, and sell it to a demonic passerby.
How long could Thule go on like this? Emma wondered as they rolled along the Miracle Mile. The tall office buildings here stood empty, their windows shattered. The streets were deserted. Humans were being hunted to extinction, and just like Raphael, she doubted Sebastian had another world full of fresh blood and meat up his sleeve. What happened when they were all gone? Did the demons turn on the Endarkened? On the vampires? Would they move on to another world, leaving Sebastian to rule over emptiness?
“Slow down,” Julian said in her ear, and she realized that while she’d been musing, they’d reached a crowded and well-lit section of street. “Checkpoint.”
She swore silently and pulled in behind Diana. The area was buzzing—Endarkened wandered up and down the street, and the bars and restaurants here were basically intact, some of them lit up blue and green and acid yellow. Emma could even hear atonal, wailing music.
There were black-and-white barriers up in front of them, blocking the road. A two-legged lizard demon with a circle of black spider’s eyes ringing its scaled head loped out of a small booth and over to Diana.
“I’m not letting some demon lick me,” muttered Emma. “It’s not happening.”
“I’m pretty sure it was just licking Cameron to make sure his tattoo was real.”
“Sure,” said Emma. “That’s its story.”
Diana turned around on her bike and gave them a tight, artificial grin. Emma’s heart started to beat faster. She didn’t like the look of that smile.
The lizard demon loped toward them. It was massive, at least nine feet tall and half again as wide. It seemed to be wearing a police uniform, though Emma had no idea where it had gotten one that would fit.
“The boss has been looking for you all day,” it slurred. Emma guessed its mouth wasn’t really shaped for human speech. “Where you been?”
“The boss?” Emma echoed.
Fortunately, the lizard was too stupid to be suspicious. “The Fallen Star,” it slurred. “Sebastian Morgenstern. He wants to talk to you both.”
20
THE HOURS ARE BREATHING
Sebastian wants to talk to us? Emma thought with horror, and then, with a duller pang of realization: It thinks we’re the Endarkened versions of ourselves. Well, that explained Diana’s expression.
Julian’s fingers gripped Emma’s arm tightly. He slid casually off the cycle. “Okay,” he said. “Where’s the boss at?”
The lizard demon drew a paper bag out of its breast pocket. The bag seemed to be full of wriggling spiders. It popped one into its mouth and chewed while Emma’s stomach lurched.
“In the old nightclub,” it said around a crunchy mouthful of spider, and pointed toward a black glass-and-steel low-slung building. A dull red carpet was spread out on the pavement in front of the entrance. “Go. I watch your motorcycle.”
Emma slid off the cycle, feeling as if ice had invaded her veins. Neither she nor Julian looked at each other; somehow both of them were crossing the street, striding along next to each other as if nothing unusual were happening.
Sebastian knows who we really are, Emma thought. He knows, and he’s going to kill us.
She kept walking. They reached the pavement, and she heard the roar of a motorcycle starting up; she turned to see Diana speeding away from the checkpoint. She knew why Diana had needed to go, and didn’t blame her, but the sight still sent a cold stab through her chest: They were alone.
The nightclub was guarded by Iblis demons, who gave them a casual once-over and let them pass through the doors into a narrow corridor lined with mirrors. Emma could see her own reflection: She looked starkly pale, her mouth a tight line. That was bad. She had to relax. Julian, beside her, looked calm and collected, his hair ruffled from the motorcycle but otherwise nothing out of place.
He took her hand as the corridor opened up into a massive room. Warmth seemed to flow from him, through Emma’s hand, into her veins; she took a deep, harsh breath as a wave of cold air smacked into them.
The nightclub was silvery-white and black, a dark fairyland of ice. A long bar carved from a block of ice ran along one wall. Cascades of frozen water, polar blue and arctic green, spilled from the ceiling, turning the dance floor into a labyrinth of glimmering sheets.
Julian’s hand tightened on Emma’s. She glanced down; the floor underneath them was solid ice, and beneath the ice she could see the shadows of trapped bodies—here the shape of a hand, there a screaming, frozen face. Her chest tightened. We are walking on the bodies of the dead, she thought.
Julian glanced sideways at her, shook his head slightly as if to say, We can’t think about that right now.
Compartmentalizing, she thought as they headed toward a roped-off area at the back of the club. That was how Julian got through things. Pushing down thoughts, walling them off, living in the moment of the act that had become his reality.
She did her best to shove the thoughts of the dead away as they ducked under the ropes and found themselves in an area full of couches and chairs upholstered in ice-blue velvet. Sprawled in the largest armchair was Sebastian.
Up close, he was clearly older than the boy Emma remembered from her world. He was broader, his jaw more square, his eyes tar black. He wore a crisp black designer suit with a pattern of roses on the lapels, a thick fur coat
draped over it. His ice-white hair mixed with the pale gold fur; if Emma hadn’t known who he was and hated him, she would have thought he was beautiful, a wintry prince.
Standing beside him, his fingers resting lightly on the back of Sebastian’s chair, was Jace. He too wore a black suit, and when he turned slightly, Emma saw the strap of a holster beneath it. There were leather gauntlets on his wrists, under the sharp cuffs of his jacket. She would have bet he was carrying several knives.
Is he Sebastian’s bodyguard? she wondered. Does it amuse Sebastian to keep one of the Clave’s heroes as a sort of pet, bound to his side?
And then there was Ash. Wearing jeans and a T-shirt, sprawled in a chair some distance away with an electronic device in his hands, he seemed to be playing a video game. The light from the game came and went, illuminating his sharp-featured face, the points of his ears.
Sebastian’s cold gaze swept over Emma and Julian. Emma felt her whole body tense. She knew their runes were covered by fabric and concealer, but she still felt as if Sebastian could see right through her. As if he’d know immediately they weren’t Endarkened.
“If it isn’t the two lovebirds,” he drawled. He glanced at Emma. “I haven’t really seen your face before. Your friend here’s been too busy sucking it.”
Julian replied in a flat monotone. “Sorry to have annoyed you, sir.”
“It doesn’t annoy me,” Sebastian said. “Just an observation.” He settled back in his chair. “I prefer redheads myself.”
A flicker of something went over Jace’s face. It was gone too quickly for Emma to guess at its meaning. Ash looked up, though, and Emma tensed. If Ash recognized them . . .
He glanced back down at his game, his expression evincing no interest.
Emma was finding it hard not to shiver. The cold was intense, and Sebastian’s gaze colder still. He templed his fingers under his chin. “Rumors have been swirling,” he said, “that a certain Livia Blackthorn is raising a pathetic little rebellion downtown.”
Emma’s stomach lurched.
“She’s nothing to us,” Julian said quickly. He sounded like he meant it too.