Page 175 of Silver in the Bone

The Children leapt down, barring the way with clicking fangs and rotting faces. Struggling with her wounded shoulder, Caitriona brandished a bent sword and split one of their skulls with a ferocious scream. The others fled after their master, scaling the ruined walls of the tower.

It was a moment more before I realized that their screeching had given way to a very different sort of wailing. One that had no place in Avalon.

Emergency sirens.

I ran forward, climbing onto a broken section of the courtyard’s wall. My nails had torn, and my hands and knees were skinned raw, but I felt none of it. I was only vaguely aware of the others climbing behind me.

Together, we gazed out along the curve of a steep hill covered by dead trees and mist. Children rose from the forest floors and gathered, reborn, into a pack behind Arthur—Lord Death—and Cabell as they made their way toward the distant town drowning in black mire. A river of water gushed from the earth beneath us, turning crimson as it mixed with dirt and blood.

“Blessed Mother,” Olwen whispered.

As if in response, the clouds parted, spilling moonlight onto the world below. The ruined groves, the watchtowers, and the homes that had once housed the people of Avalon punctured the land like cleats on grass. The Avalonian structures had crushed or partly buried the modern streets and buildings that had stood in their way.

With the wreckage, it took more than a moment to recognize where we were. I’d been here before countless times with Nash and ... and with Cabell.

We were standing on Glastonbury Tor, long rumored to have been the location of Avalon in our world before it splintered off into its own. The hill and its lonely tower had stood over the land like a benevolent sentry for centuries, keeping watch of the surrounding meadows and nearby town of Glastonbury.

Now it served as the perfect vantage point to bear witness to the complete and utter devastation below.

The glow of fire emanated from what remained of the town, smoke pouring up to cover the stars. Ambulances and police cars, their blue lights flashing, gathered along a road to the north. With the flooding, it was as close to the town as they could get. The whirring of helicopter blades seemed to approach from every direction at once.

“We have to leave,” I told the others. “Neve, can you open a Vein? It doesn’t matter where. We need to get our things and leave—right now.”

“What’s happened?” Caitriona asked. “What is this place?”

Neve looked like she might be sick from shock as she hugged her wand to her chest. A cut on her cheekbone wept blood, and it mingled now with her tears.

“The ritual didn’t restore the isle by purifying it,” I said, the words aching down to my soul. “It restored Avalon to the human world.”

I brought them to the only place I could. Home.

I hadn’t actually thought about how it would feel to return to the apartment. I hadn’t even thought about how much time had passed since I’d last been there, until I saw the Christmas decorations that merrily adorned our quiet street and felt the cold promise of coming snow.

We’d only had a moment to retrieve our things—including Griflet, who had napped through the collision of worlds—before searchlights had swept over the tower’s smoldering courtyard. No time for thinking at all.

Now there was too much time.

Olwen and Caitriona had taken in their first glimpses of our world with outright horror. The cars, the architecture, the people milling around and gawking at the dire state of us—all of it was too much, too loud, too bright after the harsh gray world of Avalon, even for me.

“Are you sure about this?” Neve whispered as I jimmied the lock on our small kitchen window. The herbs in the planter gave me a wilted hello—one far warmer than the shocked look of one of our neighbors as she spied on us from the nearby sidewalk. Bloodstained and filthy, I waved and gave her my best sheepish smile.

“Lost my key!” I called to her as the window lock finally released.

I pulled myself up and squeezed through the tight opening, wriggling over the counter and the kitchen sink. Once inside, I froze, the familiar scent of lemon and dried herbs bringing a fresh sting of tears. The kitchen appliances and furniture looked strange to my eyes—too sharp, too perfect. A light layer of dust coated the dining table and countertops, but the space was otherwise clean and tidy. There was no dark mud to scrub from stones, no linens to wash. There were no stories to overhear, or secrets hidden in its shadows. No monsters, either.

I stared and stared, trying to accept the unnaturally bright colors of the books on the bookshelf, the zigzagging pattern of our rug. Though it was full of things I’d picked out myself, the space seemed almost ... achingly hollow.

It had never been a home. It had only ever been a dream of one.

Stepping down off the counter, I knocked a few stray pieces of mail and the potted plants onto the linoleum floor, but didn’t bother picking any of it up. Instead, I looked across the length of what had been our home. The place we’d carved for ourselves in a world that had done its best to be rid of us.

A sharp ache cut through my chest. That wasn’t right, not really. This was the place I had wanted for us—in the city I’d kept us in for my own selfish reasons. I’d convinced Cabell we needed to stay in Boston, just like I’d convinced him we had to find a way to break his curse, rather than help him learn to live with it.

It made me feel like I had to be afraid of myself, too.

I unlocked the front door and barely registered the others entering and taking a tentative look around. Caitriona and Olwen sat at the small kitchen table’s two chairs—two, because that was all we had ever needed. Both stared blankly into the air, as if waiting for instructions. I poured everyone water, but no one drank it.

Neve sat on the couch, shifting so I could sit beside her. We leaned our heads against each other as we watched Griflet explore the space.

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