I looked at Roger. “Is there an alternative?”
He shook his head. “As far as I know, there’s only two ways out of the Badlands. One, have a Pythia open a portal from our world, where her power works, allowing her to bring people in and out.”
“And the other is to piggyback off a ghost,” I finished for him.
“As long as they have the energy. You’re going to have to feed yours.”
“I can’t. There’s something I have to do, and it takes power—a lot of it. I’ve been taking a potion to enhance my stamina—”
“So take more!”
“I don’t have any more. And even if I did, you can’t enhance what isn’t there. If I drain myself too low, it won’t work—”
“Then you’re shit out of luck, aren’t you?”
I looked at Billy, but he was already shaking his head. “No way, Cass. I don’t even have to know what’s going on. I got nothing.”
“You could feed him,” I said to Roger, even knowing what the answer was going to be.
“I need my strength to feed my own ghost. She’s not quite there—thanks to you, I might add. Shining like a lighthouse and luring every damn spirit in the place!”
I stared at him. I’d never gotten much affection from my parents, who’d died when I was four. I’d spent my childhood dreaming about them, sneaking around, trying to find out any scrap of information I could. Which hadn’t been much, since my old guardian had instructed people not to talk to me. But I’d always wondered. . . .
And then I’d become Pythia, and gone back in time, to seek help from my mother in dealing with the demon council. Help she’d given, sort of. But there’d been no affection with it, no tear-filled reunions, no anything. Just grudging assistance and a swift push out the door.
And now my father was refusing even that, basically telling me to stay here and die for all he cared. I didn’t know why it hurt after so long, and after plenty of other indications of how he felt, but it did. It hurt so goddamn much, even though I hadn’t been born yet from his perspective, even though he had no way to know who I was.
Because it hadn’t made a difference when he did.
“That’s not going to help,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “I told you, I can’t—”
“But I can,” Rosier said, his voice harsh. I looked at him, and found him scowling at my father. “Get back in here,” he told me. “And get ready!”
I saw my face go slack as he stepped out of my skin. A second later I was stepping in, feeling the weight of my body hit me, pulling me the rest of the way to the floor. And to the rocks underneath, which bruised my palms when I abruptly hit down.
Because the wards were almost gone.
I hadn’t noticed, floating in the air, because the walls still looked the same. But they weren’t the same, maybe because nobody had expected them to have to put up with this kind of abuse. “The
wards—” I gasped, looking up.
And was almost blinded by Billy Joe, shining like a searchlight.
And then everything happened at once: Billy grabbing me and me grabbing Rosier; Daisy jerking a surprised-looking Roger off the floor, and all of us falling through the collapsing wards. Which left us behind on the ground the next time the cell rolled over, where we were metaphysically trampled by a crowd of ghosts. Who’d gotten so into the rush to destroy the cell that they didn’t immediately notice we were gone.
I lay there for a second, watching the mighty throng surge ahead, the remains of the small cell being tossed in front of them like a bouncy ball. And then we were up and running, dodging through the crowd of stragglers, who stared at us in surprise. For about a second.
Until their faces started to melt.
“Daisy!” Roger shouted as the spirits turned into nightmare fuel.
“Trying!”
“Try harder!”
“They’re too close,” she panted. “I’ll take some of them with us!”
“Then take them!” he yelled, sending spells and ghosts flying. But that wouldn’t work in a second, when the main crowd realized that their prey was trying to flee. “Daisy! Do it now!”