“He went where?” It was her turn to be horrified. “How did he plan to accomplish that? I thought only I could call Shadowman!”
“Adam found a way.” Zoe stepped back, her hand reaching for the doorknob.
Talia lifted the shadows again, flung out a hand, and held the door closed with a wave of darkness. “What way did he find?”
“Uh…I…” Zoe didn’t finish her answer, and Talia didn’t want her to. The implications were already spinning. Back at Segue, Philip had spoken of a way. An ancient death rite. To usher an immortal monster out of the world, someone had to sacrifice their life. A life to balance out death. Adam had fought the idea then. But now, he couldn’t possibly intend to—He did.
Over her dead body.
Talia grabbed at the back of her skirt. When the clasp wouldn’t come undone, she yanked hard on the fabric at the waistline, ripping it. The skirt puddled at her feet. The slip followed. She didn’t have time to wrestle with the corset, not when Adam could be facing the demon at any moment.
“There was no stopping him, Talia.” Zoe’s words tumbled out in a rush. “Abigail said he was going to go, no matter what. He wouldn’t listen to her when she said he couldn’t win against the Death Collector. She couldn’t stop him.”
“Maybe she couldn’t,” Talia snapped back, throat aching, “but I could have.”
Damn Abigail and Zoe to hell. How hard would it possibly have been to lock him in a room for a couple of days? How hard would it be to counter his decision with one of their own? Change the future.
“We acted in your best interests. Me and Abigail and Adam. What will be, will be. You need to heal. If his way doesn’t work, then your scream is the only thing that can save us. You can be safe here.”
“You’ll tell me exactly where he is and how to get there, or I swear I will kill you myself.” With no other clothes available, Talia yanked on the skinny black leggings Zoe had worn before the party. Talia shoved her feet into Zoe’s discarded combat boots.
Zoe’s gaze hardened. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Talia’s voice rasped. No way to scream. Frustration at her weakness had her snapping the laces as she tightened them.
“Won’t. When you’re healed, then—”
“By the time I’m healed, Adam will be dead.” Talia stood. “And why should I care about saving the world if Adam isn’t in it?”
Talia ignored Zoe’s stricken face, took her roughly by the arm and made for the rear exit, dragging her out into the night.
“There’s no stopping him,” Zoe said.
“There’s no stopping me either,” Talia said. “Where do I go?”
When Zoe hesitated, Talia gripped harder and shook. “Where, damn it?” Her voice broke and she had to work for air.
“The ferry waits at the Seventy-ninth Street Boat Basin.”
“Ferry to where?”
“The Styx. It’s a boat, the Death Collector’s lair.”
Talia gathered shadow as she pulled Zoe down the slim lane of the alley to its junction at the street. Not a busy street, by any means. Dirty, littered, undoubtedly dangerous. Gang tags decorated a boarded building on the corner. A few blocks up, cars chased each other through a busy intersection. They could get a cab there.
The combination of anger and shadow gave Talia the strength to haul Zoe’s sniveling ass down the three blocks to the intersection. She’d have preferred to have left the girl back at the club, where she’d be safe, but who knew what important tidbits she’d left out? Talia didn’t trust the girl for a second.
For that matter, she didn’t trust Adam either.
Stupid man. What did he think he was doing? Going off and leaving her with a bunch of freaky babysitters. She’d kill him when she found him, if he weren’t already dead. And if he were dead, she’d call his sorry ghost back from Beyond and kill him all over again. Stupid, arrogant man.
When Talia reached the corner, she held her free hand up in the air while Zoe sulked.
“The Death Collector will kill you,” Zoe said. Her expression was partly mutinous, partly imploring. “I won’t be party to your death. You can’t make me go.”
“Oh, you’re going all right.” A taxi pulled up to the curb.
Talia opened the door and pushed her inside. Roughly.
“Where to?” the taxi driver asked.
“Seventy-ninth Street Boat Basin,” Zoe muttered.
The cabbie shook his head. “No, ladies. They haven’t caught the Riverside Park murderer yet. I’m not taking you there.”
Zoe mouthed the word wraith with a look of triumph. “The park borders the dock,” she explained. “Someone or something in the park is preying on stupid people who venture there. It’s all but deserted now.”
Talia ignored the implied insult. “Sir, I’m going straight to the dock. I promise I won’t linger in the park. I’ll be safe.”
The man shrugged and pulled away from the curb into traffic.
Zoe sneered over her shoulder at Talia. “I don’t know what you think you’re going to do. How can you possibly help Adam now? All you’ll accomplish is to ruin the world’s chance at destroying the Death Collector.”
Talia smiled. “Not so. If Adam fails, and if I fail, then there is a world full of people who can give it a try themselves, sacrifice themselves to kill the demon.” Her voice grated painfully over the words, probably ruining all the healing she’d done that day. But her words did the trick.
Zoe went white.
“That’s right. Anyone, even you, can teach the Death Collector to die. You can lecture me all you want when you’re prepared to face him yourself. Until then, shut up and let me think.”
Okay. So the scream was gone. She still had her shadows. She couldn’t kill the demon, but maybe she could rescue Adam’s sorry—but mighty fine—ass. He rescued her, once upon a time. In that alley in Arizona, he’d pitted himself, weaponless, against a wraith and they’d come out alive. She could do the same for him now. Damn him.
The taxi traveled down West Seventy-ninth, dipped under an overpass rumbling with traffic, and turned into a wide circular drive surrounded by trees, presumably the lethal Riverside Park. The black ribbon of the Hudson River glimmered beyond, the city lights twinkling on the water. Its smell infiltrated the cab, yeasty and rotten.
Goose bumps spread up Talia’s back and across her scalp.
“Stop here,” Zoe said. She gestured to a break in the concrete barrier. “Down the steps. Keep to the sidewalk. You’ll want the Charon—it’s moored at the dock on the far right. The deserted one, you know, as in deserted because everyone knows to stay away. The ferryman will take you to the Styx, but please don’t make me go. I’ve seen what the wraiths do. I want to live.”
“If you’ve left anything out…” Talia began hoarsely.
“I haven’t. Go on and die now, if you want, just leave me here.”
“Fine.” Talia got out and slammed the door.
“Lady?” The driver asked, leaning out his window. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Talia didn’t look back as the taxi pulled away. She followed the concrete road to the steps, and then jogged down those to the center of the lower level of the concrete circle. A deserted café was dark and shuttered. The place echoed with silence.
Though deep in her shadowy cloak, Talia’s heart hammered as she traveled down the sidewalk and across the jog path. The gate to the pier was open, as if the ferryman were expecting her.
Something knocked against the planking with a lonely, hollow sound. Exactly the sound her heart was making in its own mooring.