And if there wasn’t, it wouldn’t matter.
I stared out the window, watching the fields and wooded hills give way to steeper slopes and heath-covered ridges as we climbed toward the mountains. I’d miss the breathtaking Welsh landscape. I’d miss Boston, too—the zombie-thronged streets of Deadtown, the grittiness of the New Combat Zone. Kane’s presence reminded me of everything else I’d miss. He sat quietly beside me, but I could feel his coiled power: in his muscular thigh, in the large hand that hid my own. I thought about the last time we’d made love, months ago—why hadn’t we managed it more often? It was too late now. And it was too late to patch things up with Gwen. I’d never watch her kids grow up. I’d never know if Maria would become a shapeshifter like me.
I’d miss Juliet and her dumb Shakespeare obsession. I’d even miss Tina, although she’d driven me crazy every second I’d known her.
I probably shouldn’t be thinking about Daniel as I held hands with Kane, but I’d miss him, too—his blue eyes, boyish smile, his slightly-too-long blond curls. He’d glimpsed something in me, something good, I’d never quite seen myself.
But Kane. I hadn’t realized how much I missed him until he got out of that car. Why had he arrived now, when I needed him beside me? Maybe it was destiny. The thought made me smile.
Then I put all thoughts aside to prepare for the task at hand. I closed my eyes and worked on getting centered. I wasn’t worried about purity anymore. Instead, I dug down to find the core of my being, the calm place where all was still, the place from which I could meet my destiny.
27
“TURN HERE, JENKINS.”
I opened my eyes at the sound of Mab’s voice.
The Land Rover slowed and made a cautious right turn, then bumped along a rutted dirt road. We were in the mountains now, traveling along a narrow valley hemmed in by steep, rocky slopes. It was late afternoon, nearly twilight. The Land Rover crept down the overgrown track. We’d make faster progress if we got out and walked, but I didn’t say that. I was trying to hang on to the calm, centered place I’d found on the drive.
For ten minutes, we jounced along at a snail’s pace. Then slabs of slate, irregular in shape and standing upright like gravestones, appeared on both sides of the road.
Mab turned around in her seat. “Slate fences were once common in this part of Wales,” she told Kane, as though narrating a pleasure tour of the countryside. This fence was in bad shape, some of the stones had split, and others tilted at drunken angles or lay on the ground. We were getting close to the mine.
The track curved along the shore of a lake, gray under the leaden sky. In the dim light, the lake seemed to absorb whatever light there was, giving nothing back. Like Pryce’s eyes.
Beyond the lake rose steep, gray-and-brown hills. A place devoid of color or sparkle, it reminded me of Limbo, the world between the worlds.
The track turned away from the lake, and we came to a flat, empty, gravel-filled yard. Crumbling stone buildings—roofless, windowless, walls collapsing—stood in clusters and climbed the surrounding hills. The ruins gave the place an air of failure, of activity long stilled, of silence that stretched endlessly past the final echo. It was a place where the dead called to the dead in an unspoken language the living could not perceive. I wondered if they were calling to me.
I shook off the feeling. Centered—I had to stay centered. As though he shared my unease, Kane put his arm around me and pulled me close.
On the west side of the yard, a hill ascended, its slope covered with piles of loose rock, waste from the mine. A short, square doorway led into the mine itself. I sat up straighter. The scene looked exactly like the illustration in The Book of Utter Darkness.
Jenkins stopped by the mine’s entrance. The sun dropped behind the hill, casting shadows over us, over everything. It felt like we’d reached the end of the world.
We climbed out of the Land Rover. “No other cars,” Kane pointed out. “Looks like we got here first.”
“He’s here,” Mab said. She gestured at the entrance. A twisted metal gate and broken padlock lay on the ground. “Pryce can travel through the demon plane. He’s been here for hours, I’d wager. But he cannot release the Morfran until dark.” She glanced at the hill that now hid the sun. “We must hurry.”
Pryce was here. I’d expected that, of course, but the thought still prickled the back of my neck. Those dead eyes could be watching us right now from Uffern. At any moment, he could attack out of nowhere. Maybe I could locate him. I opened to the demon plane.
Uffern was stiflingly hot, as though invisible fires burned all around, consuming all the oxygen. The landscape was even more gloomy and desolate than it looked to human eyes, like a dirty veil had been pulled across the scene. I stretched out my senses, searching for Pryce. Mab was right; he’d beaten us here. Cysgod’s sulfur-and-brimstone stench hung in the air. From deep inside the mine came the muffled sound of frantic cawing, the Morfran trapped in the slate. But I couldn’t find Pryce.
I pulled my senses back—or tried to. Nothing changed. The filth, the stink, the heat, and sounds of the demon plane persisted. It was like being trapped in a dream where you try to shut your eyes to some horror but can’t stop seeing it.
I held my breath to block the smell. I closed my eyes and covered my ears, willing myself to return to the Ordinary. It did no good; I remained in Uffern. Panic rising, I tried again, yanking at my senses, trying to reel them in. It wasn’t working. Somewhere, demonic laughter cackled. I pulled harder.
With an almost audible pop, the world snapped back into focus. My ears rang, and it took my eyes a minute to adjust.
I sat on the gravel beside the demolished gate. Kane’s hand gripped my shoulder, and Mab studied me like a doctor inspecting X-rays for a hidden hairline fracture.
“What happened, child?”
I stood, wiping sweat from my forehead. “I checked the demon plane for Pryce. I couldn’t locate him, and I … um, kind of got stuck.”
“What do you mean, ‘stuck’?”
“You know how opening and closing to the demon plane is kind of like raising and lowering a window shade? The shade wouldn’t lower. I had to tug really hard to get it down.”
Mab turned to Kane. “Could you please leave us for a moment? I must speak to my niece privately.”
From the way Kane’s face fell, it was clear he thought Mab disliked him. He glanced at me, and I nodded. “Of course,” he said, all graciousness, and went back to the Land Rover.
When he was out of earshot, Mab grasped my arm. “Be careful. Here, you must resist the demon plane. We’re standing in a place of legend, near the spot where Hellions were born.”
“You mean Ceridwen, Avagddu, the cauldron?” No wonder the demon plane felt creepier than usual here.
She nodded, her expression grave. “This is a place of power for the Destroyer.”
“The Destroyer’s here?” If Difethwr fought on Pryce’s side, there was no way we could win. Not without the Sword of Saint Michael. We were dead, all of us.
“No. You sent the Destroyer to Hell, and there it must stay until you call it forth. But your bond … It troubles me. I’m not sure what might happen if you open to the demon plane again.”
“How am I supposed to fight demons if I can’t enter the demon plane?”
“You won’t be fighting demons. We’re here to stop Pryce from releasing the Morfran, and he must do the ritual in his human form. Focus on Pryce.”