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I ran into the atrium, jaw hanging open. Not a single trace of them. It was like they were never there.
“You killed them,” I croaked. “I didn’t want you to kill them!”
“I didn’t kill anyone,” Sebastian said, waving that away. “I simply moved them to a more convenient location. What? Don’t look so surprised.” He smirked at us, a smirk shared by his snickering Hell Boys. “I am the gates of hades, Vanda—literally and figuratively.”
The air split down the seams, reality and everything I knew of it tearing apart. Black iron formed before my eyes—strange and twisted—the metal bent and connected like bones, and it sucked air from the room like nothing I’d seen.
All around us gates appeared, pushing Theron, Tycho, Daciana, Ionna, and Nitsa back until we bumped into each other. Snapping open at once, the air stole from my lungs.
“The flower shop.” The words fell from numb lips. “It’s home.”
There was no denying it. The boarded-up window, graffiti, the faint outline ofIrida’s Gardenabove the door, even the smell of the bakery next door. It washed over me—real and whole. All I had to do was step through.”
“A gate is its own master. Both outside and inside. Both intruder and protector.” Sebastian’s voice burrowed into my mind. “There is no door, no lock, no barrier, no floor, no ceiling, no anything that gets in my way.”
“My pack,” Daciana whispered. “Daddy.”
I spun around, seeing into the gate before my friend. A group of people sat around a burning fire—laughing, eating, and fooling around. A towering, stately man with a stern expression and laugh lines around eyes that he gave to Daciana, weaved a tale that captivated his audience.
“Wait... What are we looking at?” Tycho asked. “Who are these people?”
Shadows moved in the dark. I drew closer, squinting into a space barely lit by the moonlight. Was it a living room?
I made out the outline of a couch. The figures were hovering around it— No, they were hovering around the person lying on it, while they drained her blood from her wrists and neck.
Daciana’s growl preceded Tycho’s shout by seconds.
“Vampires!”
The vampires whipped around, tearing from their prey. Roaring, they rushed the gate, sending my friends into battle mode.
“I’ve made my point.” Sebastian snapped his fingers again and the gates were gone. “We did tell all of you on the first day,” he said to our gaping mouths. “We run things now.”
I shook my head. “The only thing I care about is if you can get me in there.” I moved to the rim of the chamber. “We’re running out of time.”
Smashing his fists together, he ripped them apart, opening another odd, swirling gate of smoke and black metal. I was seeing it, and I couldn’t believe it.
I knelt down and reached into the hole. My hand went right through.
“This is it.” My voice was barely higher than a whisper. “There’s nothing to do now but jump.” I glanced up at Theron. “How much time do we have before the rest of the council arrives?”
“An hour. Maybe two.”
I cursed. “There’s no way to know if that’s enough time. If they arrive, and we’re still not back yet, someone has to stall them.”
“I’ll do it.” Castor cracked his jaw yawning.
I almost forgotten he was there. “You will? Why?”
He shrugged his shoulders, already walking off. “It’s something to do.”
“Um, okay.” I forced myself not to think about how noncommittal that reply was. It wasn’t like I was planning to hang around in there. I was more than happy to get in, rescue my mom, and get all of us out as quickly as possible. “What about weapons?” I asked. “Armor?”
Tycho shook his head. “Standard procedure during an attack. Lock down the armory. We’ve only got our powers on this one.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Sebastian reached behind him, pulling something out of his waistband. “Your father had me cross into the mortal dominion to get this for you. Your grandparents sold it,” he said, placing my sixteenth birthday present in my hands. “Honestly, who steals someone’s family heirloom? Even I have limits. I told the new owner when I burst in that they sent me to steal it back, so hopefully that causes some trouble for the thieving bastards.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I think I did both as I held the dagger—another last gift given from a mother to their child.
