Nightsworn | The Whispering Wall #2

Eighty Seven: Chaos

"Are we fucked? Serious question." Jordan stared through the window of Harkenn's private chambers at the ranks of Caelumese soldiers blocking them in. More had been arriving by the minute.

Nova was silent for a moment. She'd had a strange look about her since the Angel assassin had escaped. He had thought she was blank before, but this was worse; from merely shuttered to empty. Her throat was coming up in a deep bruise already, adding to the raw, cracked skin where her collar used to be. When she finally spoke her voice was little more than a whisper. "Always a possibility."

Jordan glanced back at the bed. Harkenn looked to be asleep, but if he was, it was restless. The sheets twisted around his thin body and he had refused to let go of the vial that might hold the key to saving his life. Then Jordan turned to watch the door, as he had been for what felt like several hours but couldn't have been more than one. The army outside grew by the minute and he still hadn't seen any sign of Harkenn's soldiers returning, nor had Yddris returned with either Nika or Grace. It was a marvel that so many soldiers had breached the Reach's defences, and at that thought he again felt the swooping in the pit of his stomach, that sick realisation that Marick hadn't lied to him about the portals. He expected to feel glad about that, but since that promise he had discovered how tightly Nictaven had tied him. He would never get out of this world alive, and it had been easier to believe that the possibility had never been there.

If Caelum could send troops with that accuracy, maybe they could get Jordan and Grace home to the right place and time. Only Grace would go alone and he would stay, bound by the magic pulsing in his blood.

He jumped as the soldiers outside pounded on the door again. A small, sorry-looking house guard had gathered in the foyer, but it felt as though the Angels were toying with them. Or waiting for orders. He hoped it was the latter. Varron was under arrest in his rooms down the hall, and Cael was still missing. Perhaps they wouldn't move before they received orders, because they would get through those doors instantly if they had a mind to.

"Weren't the demons enough?" he asked. It was a rhetorical question, but Nova answered.

"Sieges are one of my uncle's specialities." She gave a humourless chuckle. "He never had much imagination. His advisers were the ones with all the ideas."

"You think he caused the demon siege?" He shuddered at the memory. The Caelumese terrified him, but nothing compared to the writhing mass of demons he had fought against months before. Had it only been months? It felt like it had been years.

"He's somehow discovered how to make portals with pinpoint accuracy after our people supposedly lost that knowledge for centuries." She shrugged. "And I never thought Cael's abilities were natural. So he could have. It was so unprecedented I would say it's likely."

"Some might say I don't have a right to it. Still saddled with it."

She glanced at him, face softening for just an instant. "It chose you. That gives you more right than any."

"You make that sound like a good thing."

She saw straight through to the point that really bothered him. "If it makes any difference to you at all, he would never agree to do it for you. Not for any price you could pay. And just because he can make portals within Nictaven with this accuracy does not necessarily mean he could replicate it on the scale of worlds. Safely, that is."

It didn't make him feel any better, but then nothing would. Nothing about his situation changed if Lucifer or Marick could do it, would do it, or any other dark-damned option. He still had the Gift. And that meant he was still contracted to Harkenn and Marick. He would still have to kill Silas.

"Will you be alright if I step out for a minute?" he asked. He forced his voice not to crack, though he doubted he fooled her. "I won't go far."

"I'll be fine."