Page 67 of Hell's Secret Omega

Breathe out.

The lock-pick slides in.

Slowly, cautiously, he wiggles it back and forth. It’s an age before he feels the pin catch. The chain suddenly shudders as the demons on the other end start to move again, and the lock-pick slips almost from his fingers.

“No!” he hisses, barely catching it. There’s an answering splash as the cuffs fall away, and his wrists are suddenly light.

It worked.

He sucks in another shaky breath. Now to get out.

He feels his way around the bottom of the pit, searching for the chain they used to climb down. He blocks out the muttered argument about the water level that’s still going. The water is definitely higher. That’s not his biggest concern. Finally his blind groping leads him to the end of the chain, and he lifts it carefully so it doesn’t make any noise. Bracing his entire being against the inevitable surge of pain, he grabs the chain above his head and begins to climb.

Going up is agonizing compared to coming down. He wills his arms to be strong. He pauses often, digging his toes into the cliff to hang and gasp silently. As he climbs, he stuffs the chain inside his shirt so no one can follow him up, ignoring the twinge of guilt.

Soon his muscles start to fail, and the thought of pulling himself one more inch upward makes every fibre of his beingwant to curl up in despair. Everything hurts. Doubt snarls at his heels. He’s just one demon—a small, weak one, at that. He could give up. Rest his aches and pains.

He hangs, panting. His heart batters his chest. He uncurls his hand from the chain forcefully. Just one more foot. Then one more after that.

His hand slips on the chain. Frantic, he scrabbles for purchase on the tiny rock outcroppings. Amid his desperate flailing his hand hits a ledge, and he grabs on. For a moment he can only breathe, gripping the stone and the chain in each hand and hoping desperately his body won’t betray him.

“Hey!” comes a shout from below. “The spy is gone!”

Splash.The noises of demons moving around drifts up.

“The chain’s gone too!”

“Little rat.”

“He stole it!”

More splashing follows, loud enough that it sounds like someone falling back into the water.

Every muscle screaming, Cyrus levers himself onto the ledge and collapses. The bars of Ekko’s cage swim before his eyes. He drags in one breath after the other. He has to focus on the next thing. Get to his feet. Unlock the door. But moving a single inch seems like the biggest hurdle he’s ever faced right now.

“Ek-ek-ek,” comes a soft cry, and Cyrus’s chest tightens with unimaginable relief.

“Ekko,” he whispers. Shakily, he pushes himself off the ground, unloading the chain onto the ledge.

Ekko bobs his head, looking at Cyrus with his golden eye first, then his black eye.

Cyrus staggers toward the bars. “I know. I was gone so long.”

Ekko’s black eye is baleful.

“I’m sorry,” Cyrus whispers, reaching through the bars to scratch the underside of his chin.

Ekkoek-eksagain, shaking his shoulders. He looks in better health, his feathers slowly growing back in the places that were previously bald. But the sickness comes and goes in waves—if Cyrus doesn’t get him out now, he’ll weaken again. Who knows if he’ll survive next time.

Cyrus withdraws his hand and slips the lock-picks out of his wet boot again. His fingers are almost numb, but it’s the work of seconds to open the door and squeeze inside.

The inside of Ekko’s cave is dry and dusty, lined with feathers and a morbid number of bones. Cyrus ignores them. Slowly, excruciatingly, he struggles out of his coat. The back of the garment is torn to shreds. It turns his stomach to even look at it, so he averts his eyes.

Carefully, he inches closer to Ekko, approaching his golden-eyed side. The bird eyes him warily, letting out a questioning noise.

“Shh,” Cyrus whispers.

He drops the coat on Ekko’s head and ties it quickly, blinding him. Ekko squawks, wings flaring. Cyrus stumbles backward as Ekko shakes his head, but he can’t dislodge the makeshift hood. Distressed, he squawks loudly. The hood has the desired effect, though—enclosed and in the dark, he quickly settles.

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