Page 48 of Tomb of Ancients
“Stars,” Mary cried, covering her mouth. “He must have called back his folk from every corner of the earth!”
“Now, do you think, Louisa?” Poppy asked.
“Aye,” I told her, my heart sinking to my toes. “Now. Do it now.”
While Poppy readied herself, I disappeared to tend to Mrs. Haylam, trusting the little girl to know when her power would help us most. She looked almost proud, like a soldier, and I wished that it was not so, that she was not a child forced into this war, that she could be somewhere at play, holding her dog and singing songs, not using her voice for bloody mayhem.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Inever disliked you.”
The bedlam behind me twisted her words into nonsense. It took me a moment to untangle them, just as I untangled another torn strip of skirt to tie around her thigh. There was no pretense of housekeeper and serving girl now, no stations, no polite barriers—Mrs. Haylam’s wiry leg was stuck out toward me, propped in my lap while I wrapped it with coarse cloth.
“Did I accuse you of such things?” I asked, shaking my head. Before, I had seen just glimpses of the tattoos on her arms, always peeking out from her sleeve, but now I came to realize that underneath the sober, high-necked gown, she was covered in markings. Having suffered one such agony on my palm, I couldn’t imagine what she had endured to become that way.
“The way you look at me, girl. Always fleeting. Nervous. I was hard because I sensed the cleverness in you. The strength.” She coughed, a trickle of blood running down her chin, and I flinched. “Even before your father came. I wasn’t hard enough on Henry and look how he turned out. I’m one of the last of his true allies. He was never soft, never kind, and it forced them all away. We could use a couple of demons right about now.”
“I’m going to tell him you said that, you know,” I teased, hoping it would bolster her spirits.
“Do it. I won’t be around to suffer his complaints.”
“I won’t have you speaking that way. Where is Mr. Morningside? Why isn’t he helping us?” I pressed.
“He’s”—hack, hack—“making preparations. But like always, he will be fashionably late.”
Tragically late, more like. I thought more about what she had said, about Henry never being soft or kind. He had been, in my eyes, for a time—to her and Dalton, at least. He had taken in many of my kind out of guilt, but now... Stopping briefly, I glanced around, looking at us all battling against the Upworlders. Fightingforhim. And where was he? Why was he absent at his own fight? I felt suddenly angry, furious, dangerously furious, so much so that I felt Father flash against the weak membrane holding him at bay. These weren’t demons like Faraday putting their lives on the line for Henry’s house and livelihood, it wasus. The cruel unfairness of it cut, and I wondered if maybe this was what Dalton wanted me to see in his diary. That it would always come to this, Henry hiding and scheming, while everyone else did the dirty work for him.
Even his one and only true friend lay bleeding and suffering.
I finished tying off her upper leg and sat back on my haunches, then turned at the sound of a gun volley. The bullets did next to nothing against the giants. Mary’s barrier extended outward again, enshrouding us, the noise of the battle growing dimmer for a moment. Then Poppy stepped forward and threw back her head, balled up her fists, and let loose one of her bone-piercingshrieks. The nearest wave of Adjudicators fell, gripping their heads in agony, distracted enough to become easy targets for our crack shooters. Poppy had weakened our foes, leaving them far more vulnerable to gunfire. I watched the Nephilim fall back, deterred, but only briefly.
Her scream, no matter how powerful, was not enough to turn the tide.
When it was done, I saw Chijioke go to comfort Poppy, who began crying, disappointed and afraid.
“Where is Morningside?” Chijioke shouted, clutching Poppy. “Damn him. We need his help!”
“Are you prepared to watch them die?” Mrs. Haylam whispered. More blood poured from her mouth. “Are you ready to have that on your shoulders?”
The thunder of the giants’ feet neared, deafening. A hail of javelins fell against Mary’s barrier, which itself would fall soon as she grew tired. Khent could do nothing, for I had no spears to give him and he had but a rudimentary knowledge of rifles. I sighed and stood, knowing what had to be done, however much I dreaded it.
“Louisa... ,” Mother pleaded with me softly, but I turned my back on her.
“Let the child do what she must,” Mrs. Haylam said. “Let her choose.”
I took a deep breath, smelled the gore and gunpowder all around us, felt the quaking of the ground... It would beeasy enough to summon Father. This was his chosen arena, his natural element. He craved bloodshed, and now, at last, I would give him as much as he could stomach. For my part, I had already seen more than enough. In my head, Father’s soul snapped and snarled and raged, denied his feast.
Then the glass behind us shattered. It seemed as if the whole of the house had imploded, but it was only the windows. I covered my head, shrieking as shards of glass rained down on us, and then, with the fluttering of a thousand wings, birds gushed from the mansion. They were a riot of color and sounds, their cast-off feathers joining the shower of glass from the windows. Brushing debris off my shoulders, I marveled at their speed, following their trajectory as they all but erased the sky. Whenever a bird found a target, be it winged foe or giant, it would burst in a cascade of feathers that flowed into wisps of silver. Those blobs coalesced, then formed ghostly figures.
The souls. He had at last released the army of souls he had reaped and stored in his birds.
Mr. Morningside appeared directly after, loping out from the kitchen with a cup of tea. He downed it in one gulp and threw the porcelain against the nearest wall.
“Fashionably late!” I screamed at him, exasperated.
Mr. Morningside shrugged and strode past me, tending to Mrs. Haylam. “Butstillfashionable. Still want the deed? Sorry, I seem to have made a mess.”
“I hate you,” I seethed back.
