“To build a true bridge—a strong bridge, one capable of carrying the One Beneath to our world—I needed an agony far greater than the suffering of a thousand tormented bodies. I needed the pain of the soul, of so many souls.”
“You didn’t build the bridge on the people in the hospital,” Nadia said. “You built it on their families. Their friends. You built it on the pain of every person who went through all this time not knowing if the people they loved would live or die.”
On Mrs. Purdhy’s family. On Kendall. On Verlaine.
Elizabeth said, “I knew you would see eventually. You’re bright enough for that. But I also knew you would see it too late.”
Failing to understand Elizabeth’s magic was humiliating—but what did it matter now? Nadia lifted her chin. “The bridge isn’t complete, and those people are free. They’ll wake up any minute now, if they haven’t already. So all the families are going to be happy again.”
“The bridge is almost complete,” Elizabeth replied, “and I need so little to finish it. Really, if you’d left me one more hour, I could have left it at that.”
It sounded like an admission of defeat, but it clearly wasn’t. Nadia felt a new, dawning wave of fear. “You won’t get one more hour.”
“No, I won’t. But I remain tied to the patients, still; a few threads linger. I’ll have to give the threads a pull. You’ve blunted my original spell, so this time I’ll have to act more decisively.” Elizabeth lifted her hands. “I’ll have to kill them all.”
Verlaine tried to run past Asa, thinking that if she could just get to the stairwell, she might make it—but he grabbed her arm. She fell, swinging down to the ground at his feet, his hand still wrapped around her elbow too tightly for her to pull free.
The betrayal stung even more than the fear. Even though the mob was closing in, she could only look up at him in utter despair.
Then Asa straightened and shouted, “Get away from her!”
Everyone stopped. They still looked angry, but the shock of seeing someone defend Verlaine had been enough to make them hesitate.
“You idiots,” he snarled. “Every horrible thing that’s happening around you, and you blame one of the only people who cares enough to try to help. You go after someone you think doesn’t have anyone to defend her. Well, you thought wrong.” Asa let go of Verlaine’s arm so that he could step in front of her, between her and her would-be attackers. “Get back before I make you get back.”
Verlaine felt a shiver go through her then, and knew the rest had felt it, too. Although there was no overt sign that Asa was someone besides Jeremy Prasad, something other than human, it had somehow become completely clear that he could stop them all if he had to—and make them sorry they’d even tried to get past him.
“Later,” one man said, shooting a venomous look at Verlaine. But people shuffled out begrudgingly; their anger still simmered, but it was in check for now.
The moment the last of them left the elevator bank, Asa towed her up to stand by his side. Verlaine’s legs trembled from adrenaline and exhaustion, but she managed to stay upright. His hands on her shoulders were comfortingly warm. “We have to get out of here,” he said. “As far from this place as possible. Now.”
She shook her head. “I’m part of Nadia’s spell. That means I have to stay here.”
“Of course,” Asa breathed. He understood now, and his expression shifted into horror. “You could die.”
“Then I die.”
“Don’t do this.”
“Take me to Uncle Gary’s room.” The CDC people had shooed her out earlier, but by now maybe she could get back in. “I want to be with him, no matter what happens.”
Asa’s dark eyes flashed with emotion she could no longer read. “I’ll come with you as far as I can.”
Mateo dashed out onto the beach to see—a hellscape. That was the only word for it. He could hardly tell the smoky, snarled clouds overhead from the writhing ocean that stretched out to a dark horizon.
And you’re going to go out on that in a boat? said the part of his brain that still wanted to think he lived in a normal world.
But he ran for the nearest boat, untied the moorings, revved the motor.
Together Verlaine and Asa ran up the stairs, which was faster by far than waiting for the glacially slow hospital elevators. As Verlaine’s Converse pounded the concrete steps, she noticed how lightly Asa ran, as though he had no weight at all. As if he could almost fly.
She felt as if she had never understood Asa before this . . . no. That wasn’t right. She had always understood him, from the first moment she learned what a demon was and saw the desperate resignation within Asa. But she hadn’t dared to trust what she knew until now.
They emerged onto the fourth floor, Verlaine breathless, Asa not even beginning to tire. When they burst through the doors, though, a small group of CDC doctors down the hall whirled around to look at them. “Hey,” one woman called. “You’re not allowed in here.”
Asa brought his hands together—and like that, time stopped. She turned to him and smiled, and he smiled back tentatively, as if he still couldn’t believe she trusted him. “Come on,” he said, and they hurried down the hall.
Uncle Gary lay in his hospital bed. For a split second the stillness of the heart monitor gave her pause, but of course, time remained frozen. He was caught between heartbeats.