Page 118 of The World Undone

“You just kept her like that?” Claude asked. “You should have?—”

“Should have what?” Nash’s nostrils flared as he tried to contain whatever storm of emotions was struggling to fight its way to the surface. “Should have reached out? How? I couldn’t get in contact with either of you. You just left us there.” He snorted, the sound devoid of humor.” Or do you mean that I should have killed her?” He shook his head, took a few steps back, until the water lapped at his shoes. “Things are off balance already. I don’t know what will happen if one of us dies. It’s not ideal, but I kept her safe, alive, did what I had to do. I’ve been trying to find a way to cure her, to sever her from her post, to get a replacement, to restore her—anything.” He swallowed as his eyes found his old friend. “It’s Nika, Claude. What the fuck was I supposed to do? She’s my family. She’s all I have.”

“Years?” Claude cursed, then ran a hand through his hair, ruffling up the characteristically perfect style. “Is she ever awake? Ever herself?”

I held my breath waiting for Nash’s answer.

Years? Could Darius really lose himself to that kind of darkness for years?

“I broke her neck when I landed here, after I realized she’d been pulled with me too. It’s better if she’s unconscious, she’s easier to monitor.” Nash took a deep breath. “I keep her locked up. There’s a warehouse that’s been abandoned for years. She has space. But here—I can’t handle her when she’s conscious and loose, can’t know what she’ll do. Sometimes, pieces of the old her push through and I get little glimpses. Those moments are rare, and they’ve only been growing more so. I thought with things shifting, maybe—” he exhaled, “she’s not like the flesh-eaters, the other shadow-tainted. The magic hasn’t warped her in quite the same way that it has them, I think because she’s a vessel for it. That’s what we are as guardians. Though her hunger for blood, for violence, has become insatiable. She’s become a more amplified version of herself, but one that’s controlled by a power she’s constantly at war with, one she can’t fight back against on her own.”

Izzy’s arm snaked around me, pulling me tight against her, but I barely felt her. I couldn’t peel my eyes from Darius’s sleeping form.

A damp curl of silvery-blond hair curved over his brow. I bent down and swept it away, my skin tingling where it touched his.

“He brought you here,” I whispered, my fingers tracing the familiar line of his jaw, his bottom lip. “Why did he bring all three of you here? How?” Neither of them answered, though I sensed their prickly stares on me. “What happens when the two halves of a set are in one place, one realm?”

“I don’t know,” Claude said, his frustration with the phrase leaking into his voice. “Once our roles were assumed, it wasn’t supposed to be possible. Darius came the closest—when he traveled to hell with you, but that was after he’d already rescinded his role. I’ve never really been able to pass through our portal.”

“Lucifer.” I stood up, walked towards Nash. “Have you heard from him? Seen him? He might have some idea—maybe,”

Nash shook his head. “No one’s seen him in months.”

“Sam?” I asked, desperation choking me.

Nash and Sam knew each other. Nash had been the one to open the portal in the hell realm last time we were there. He knew Sam well enough to know that he was a hellhound.

Nash shook his head again, and I had to fight back the urge to strangle him at the uselessness of that gesture, at what it signified.

“I think that Sam went looking for Lucifer, but that was weeks ago. Neither of them has been seen or heard from in ages.” His eyes narrowed at my expression. “Long distance communication isn’t exactly easy in hell. Current predicament aside, most of us can’t simply teleport when we’d like to get somewhere. And neither Lucifer nor Samael are exactly forthcoming with their whereabouts. Or information. I’m merely an acquaintance, they don’t keep me apprised of their comings and goings.”

“Max?” The familiar sound of Declan’s voice cut through me, puncturing the tension and reshaping the scene into something new.

Relief flooded me. They were back.

I spun around, and saw her figure appear through the trees, not far from our cabin. They must have landed there.

I broke out into a run, ignoring our new guests as I took off towards her, not slowing until she met me halfway, the two of us colliding at a speed that would no doubt bruise us both temporarily.

Her lips found mine, brief and firm, before she pulled back to look at me, her hands pressed to either side of my face. “You’re okay?”

I nodded, scanning her for injuries. There was blood on her shirt, but I didn’t see any wounds. Thank fucking gods.

“And you? Where’s Eli?” My hands traced over her as I looked behind her, searching for him.

Levi emerged, with Eli draped over his shoulders.

He wasn’t moving.

Bile rose up my chest as I groped angrily for the bond, but the panic only eased briefly when I found it.

“He’s alive.” Declan twined my fingers through hers as she searched towards the beach. “Just unconscious. Took us longer than expected to get back without his help. I’m fucking knackered. Not sure what happened to him, but I think it’s the fanghole. Where is he?” Her grip tightened around my hand. “Is that Claude? What the hell’s going on?”

I didn’t give Levi more than a quick nod before I enlisted his help in setting Eli down at my feet.

His skin was deathly pale and tinged with gray. And the front of his shirt was caked in blood.

As gently as possible, I lifted it up, searching for his injuries. His torso was marred in what looked like scratches, but not the kind that came from claws—and there was a deep wound in the center of his diaphragm that mirrored the exact spot Darius had stabbed himself.

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