House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City)

by Sarah J. Maas

Hunt’s stomach turned. He could have sworn a chill breeze drifted from Jesiba.

  Micah went on idly, “Did you know that during the First Wars, when the Asteri gave the order, it was at Parthos that a doomed human army made its final stand against the Vanir? To save proof of what they were before the Rifts opened—to save the books. A hundred thousand humans marched that day knowing they would die, and lose the war.” Micah’s smile grew. “All to buy the priestesses time to grab the most vital volumes. They loaded them onto ships and vanished. I am curious to learn how they landed with Jesiba Roga.”

  The sorceress watching her truth unfold on the screens still did not speak. To acknowledge what had been suggested. Did it have something to do with why she’d left the witches? Or why she’d joined the Under-King?

  Micah leaned back in his seat, wings rustling. “I’ve long suspected that the remains of Parthos were housed here—a record of two thousand years of human knowledge before the Asteri arrived. I took one look at some of the titles on the shelves and knew it to be true.”

  No one so much as blinked as the truth settled. But Jesiba pointed to the screens and said to Tristan Flynn, to Sabine, her voice shaking, “Tell the Aux to move their fucking asses. Save those books. I beg you.”

  Hunt ground his teeth. Of course the books were more important to her than Bryce.

  “The Aux shall do no such thing,” Sandriel said coldly. She smiled at Jesiba as the female went rigid. “And whatever Micah has in mind for your little assistant is going to look mild compared to what the Asteri do to you for harboring that lying rubbish—”

  But Bryce picked up the cheese tray and glass of wine. “Look, I only work here, Governor.”

  She faced Micah at last. She was wearing athletic clothes: leggings and a long-sleeved white T-shirt. Her neon-pink sneakers shone like firstlight in the dim library.

  “Run,” Flynn urged to the screen, as if Bryce could hear him. “Fucking run, Bryce.”

  Sandriel glared at the Fae warrior. “You dare accuse a Governor of foul play?” But doubt shone in her eyes.

  The Fae lord ignored her, his eyes again on the screens.

  Hunt couldn’t move. Not as Bryce set down the cheese platter, the wine, and said to Micah, “You came here looking for me, and here I am.” A half smile. “That Summit must have been a real bore.” She crossed her arms behind her back, the portrait of casualness. She winked. “Are you going to ask me out again?”

  Micah didn’t see the angle of the second feed that Declan pulled up—how her fingers began flicking behind her back. Pointing to the stairs. A silent, frantic order to Lehabah and Syrinx to flee. Neither moved.

  “As you once said to me,” Micah replied smoothly, “I’m not interested.”

  “Too bad.” Silence throbbed in the conference room.

  Bryce gestured again behind her back, her fingers shaking now. Please, those hands seemed to say. Please run. While he’s distracted by me.

  “Have a seat,” Micah said, gesturing to the chair across the table. “We might as well be civilized about it.”

  Bryce obeyed, batting her eyelashes. “About what?”

  “About you giving me Luna’s Horn.”

  77

  Bryce knew there was little chance of this ending well.

  But if Jesiba had seen her messages, maybe it wouldn’t be in vain. Maybe everyone would know what had happened to her. Maybe they could save the books, if the protective spells on them held out against an Archangel’s wrath. Even if the gallery’s enchantments had not.

  Bryce said smoothly to Micah, “I have no idea where the Horn is.”

  His smile didn’t waver. “Try again.”

  “I have no idea where the Horn is, Governor?”

  He braced his powerful forearms on the table. “Do you want to know what I think?”

  “No, but you’re going to tell me anyway?” Her heart raced and raced.

  Micah chuckled. “I think you figured it out. Likely at the same moment I did a few days ago.”

  “I’m flattered you think I’m that smart.”

  “Not you.” Another cold laugh. “Danika Fendyr was the smart one. She stole the Horn from the temple, and you knew her well enough to finally realize what she did with it.”

  “Why would Danika have ever wanted the Horn?” Bryce asked innocently. “It’s broken.”

  “It was cleaved. And I’m guessing you already learned what could repair it at last.” Her heart thundered as Micah growled, “Synth.”

  She got to her feet, her knees shaking only slightly. “Governor or not, this is private property. If you want to burn me at the stake with all these books, you’ll need a warrant.”

  Bryce reached the steps. Syrinx and Lehabah hadn’t moved, though.

  “Hand over the Horn.”

  “I told you, I don’t know where it is.”

  She put one foot on the steps, and then Micah was there, his hand at the collar of her shirt. He hissed, “Do not lie.”

  Hunt staggered all of one step down the stairs before Sandriel stopped him, her wind shoving him back against the wall. It snaked down his throat, clamping on to his vocal cords. Rendering him silent to watch what unfolded on the screens.

  Micah growled in Bryce’s ear, more animal than angel, “Do you want to know how I figured it out?”

  She trembled as the Governor ran a possessive hand down the curve of her spine.

  Hunt saw red at that touch, the entitlement in it, the sheer dread that widened her eyes.

  Bryce wasn’t stupid enough to try to run as Micah ran his fingers back up her spine, intent in every stroke.

  Hunt’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt, his breath coming out in great, bellowing pants. He’d kill him. He’d find a way to get free of Sandriel, and fucking kill Micah for that touch—

  Micah trailed his fingers over the delicate chain of her necklace. A new one, Hunt realized.

  Micah purred, unaware of the camera mere feet away, “I saw the footage of you in the Comitium lobby. You gave your Archesian amulet to Sandriel. And she destroyed it.” His broad hand clamped around her neck, and Bryce squeezed her eyes shut. “That’s how I realized. How you realized the truth, too.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bryce whispered.

  Micah’s hand tightened, and it might as well have been his hand on Hunt’s throat for all the difficulty he had breathing. “For three years, you wore that amulet. Every single day, every single hour. Danika knew that. Knew you were without ambition, too, and would never have the drive to leave this job. And thus never take off the amulet.”

  “You’re insane,” Bryce managed to say.

  “Am I? Then explain to me why, within an hour after you took off the amulet, that kristallos demon attacked you.”

  Hunt stilled. A demon had attacked her that day? He found Ruhn’s stare, and the prince nodded, his face deathly pale. We got to her in time was all Danaan said to him, mind-to-mind.

  “Bad luck?” Bryce tried.

  Micah didn’t so much as smile, his hand still clamped on her neck. “You don’t just have the Horn. You are the Horn.” His hand again ran down her back. “You became its bearer the night Danika had it ground into a fine powder, mixed it with witch-ink, and then got you so drunk you didn’t ask questions when she had it tattooed onto your back.”

  “What?” Fury Axtar barked.

  Holy fucking gods. Hunt bared his teeth, still forbidden from speaking.

  But Bryce said, “Cool as that sounds, Governor, this tattoo says—”

  “The language is beyond that of this world. It is the language of universes. And it spells out a direct command to activate the Horn through a blast of raw power upon the tattoo itself. Just as it once did for the Starborn Prince. You may not possess his gifts like your brother, but I believe your bloodline and the synth shall compensate for it when I use my power upon you. To fill the tattoo—to fill you—with power is, in essence, to blow the Horn.”

  Bryce’s nostrils
flared. “Blow me, asshole.” She snapped her head back, fast enough that even Micah couldn’t stop the collision of her skull with his nose. He stumbled, buying her time to twist and flee—

  His hand didn’t let go, though.

  And with a shove, her shirt ripping down the back, Micah hurled her to the floor.

  Hunt’s shout was lodged in his throat, but Ruhn’s echoed through the conference room as Bryce skidded across the carpet.

  Lehabah screamed as Syrinx roared, and Bryce managed to snap, “Hide.”

  But the Archangel halted, surveying the woman sprawled on the floor before him.

  The tattoo down her back. Luna’s Horn contained within its dark ink.

  Bryce scrambled to her feet, as if there were anywhere to go, anywhere to hide from the Governor and his terrible power. She made it across the room, to the steps up to the mezzanine—

  Micah moved fast as the wind. He wrapped a hand around her ankle and tossed her across the room.

  Bryce’s scream as she collided with the wood table and it shattered beneath her was the worst sound Hunt had ever heard.

  Ruhn breathed, “He’s going to fucking kill her.”

  Bryce crawled backward through the debris of the table, blood running from her mouth as she whispered to Micah, “You killed Danika and the pack.”

  Micah smiled. “I enjoyed every second of it.”

  The conference room shook. Or maybe that was just Hunt himself.

  And then the Archangel was upon her, and Hunt couldn’t bear it, the sight of him grabbing Bryce by the neck and throwing her across the room again, into those shelves.

  “Where is the fucking Aux?” Ruhn screamed at Flynn. At Sabine.

  But her eyes were wide. Stunned.

  So slowly, Bryce crawled backward, up the mezzanine stairs again, clawing at the books to heave herself along. A gash leaked blood onto her leggings, bone gleaming beneath a protruding shard of wood. She panted, half sobbing, “Why?”

  Lehabah had crept to the metal bathroom door in the back of the library and managed to open it, as if silently signaling Bryce to get there—so they could lock themselves inside until help arrived.

  “Did you learn, in all your research, that I am an investor in Redner Industries? That I have access to all its experiments?”

  “Oh fuck,” Isaiah said from across the pit.

  “And did you ever learn,” Micah went on, “what Danika did for Redner Industries?”

  Bryce still crawled backward up the stairs. There was nowhere to go, though. “She did part-time security work.”

  “Is that how she sanitized it for you?” He smirked. “Danika tracked down the people that Redner wanted her to find. People who didn’t want to be found. Including a group of Ophion rebels who had been experimenting with a formula for synthetic magic—to assist in the humans’ treachery. They’d dug into long-forgotten history and learned that the kristallos demons’ venom nullified magic—our magic. So these clever rebels decided to look into why, isolating the proteins that were targeted by that venom. The source of magic. Redner’s human spies tipped him off, and out Danika went to bring in the research—and the people behind it.”

  Bryce gasped for breath, still slowly crawling upward. No one spoke in the conference room as she said, “The Asteri don’t approve of synthetic magic. How did Redner even get away with doing the research on it?”

  Hunt shook. She was buying herself time.

  Micah seemed all too happy to indulge her. “Because Redner knew the Asteri would shut down any synthetic magic research, that I would shut their experiments down, they spun synth experiments as a drug for healing. Redner invited me to invest. The earliest trials were a success: with it, humans could heal faster than with any medwitch or Fae power. But later trials did not go according to plan. Vanir, we learned, went out of their minds when given it. And humans who took too much synth … well. Danika used her security clearance to steal footage of the trials—and I suspect she left it for you, didn’t she?”

  Burning Solas. Up and up, Bryce crawled along the stairs, fingers scrabbling over those ancient, precious books. “How did she learn what you were really up to?”

  “She always stuck her nose where it didn’t belong. Always wanting to protect the meek.”

  “From monsters like you,” Bryce spat, still inching upward. Still buying herself time.

  Micah’s smile was hideous. “She made no secret that she kept an eye on the synth trials, because she was keen to find a way to help her weak, vulnerable, half-human friend. You, who would inherit no power—she wondered if it might give you a fighting chance against the predators who rule this world. And when she saw the horrors the synth could bring about, she became concerned for the test subjects. Concerned for what it’d do to humans if it leaked into the world. But Redner’s employees said Danika had her own research there, too. No one knew what, but she spent time in their labs outside of her own duties.”

  All of it had to be on the flash drive Bryce had found. Hunt prayed she’d put it somewhere safe. Wondered what other bombshells might be on it.

  Bryce said, “She was never selling the synth on that boat, was she?”

  “No. By that point, I’d realized I needed someone with unrestricted access to the temple to take the Horn—I would be too easily noticed. So when she stole the synth trial footage, I had my chance to use her.”

  Bryce made it up another step. “You dumped the synth into the streets.”

  Micah kept trailing her. “Yes. I knew Danika’s constant need to be the hero would send her running after it, to save the low-lifes of Lunathion from destroying themselves with it. She got most of it, but not all. When I told her I’d seen her on the river, when I claimed no one would believe the Party Princess was trying to get drugs off the streets, her hands were tied. I told her I’d forget about it, if she did one little favor for me, at just the right moment.”

  “You caused the blackout that night she stole the Horn.”

  “I did. But I underestimated Danika. She’d been wary of my interest in the synth long before I leaked it onto the streets, and when I blackmailed her into stealing the Horn, she must have realized the connection between the two. That the Horn could be repaired by synth.”

  “So you killed her for it?” Another step, another question to buy herself time.

  “I killed her because she hid the Horn before I could repair it with the synth. And thus help my people.”

  “I’d think your power alone would be enough for that,” Bryce said, as if trying flattery to save herself.

  The Archangel looked truly sad for a moment. “Even my power is not enough to help them. To keep war from Valbara’s shores. For that, I need help from beyond our own world. The Horn will open a portal—and allow me to summon an army to decimate the human rebels and end their wanton destruction.”

  “What world?” Bryce asked, blanching. “Hel?”

  “Hel would resist kneeling to me. But ancient lore whispers of other worlds that exist that would bow to a power like mine—and bow to the Horn.” He smiled, cold as a deep-sea fish. “The one who possesses the Horn at full power can do anything. Perhaps establish oneself as an Asteri.”

  “Their power is born, not made,” Bryce snapped, even as her face turned ashen.

  “With the Horn, you would not need to inherit a star’s might to rule. And the Asteri would recognize that. Welcome me as one of them.” Another soft laugh.

  “You killed those two CCU students.”

  “No. They were slaughtered by a satyr high on synth—while Danika was busy stealing the Horn that night. I’m sure the guilt of it ate her up.”

  Bryce was shaking. Hunt was, too. “So you went to the apartment and killed her and the Pack of Devils?”

  “I waited until Philip Briggs was released.”

  She murmured, “He had the black salt in his lab that would incriminate him.”

  “Yes. Once he was again on the streets, I went to Danika’s apartment—your a
partment—disabled the Pack of Devils with my power, and injected her with the synth. And watched as she ripped them apart before turning on herself.”

  Bryce was crying in earnest now. “She didn’t tell you, though. Where the Horn was.”

  Micah shrugged. “She held out.”

  “And what—you summoned the kristallos afterward to cover your tracks? Let it attack you in the alley to keep your triarii from suspecting you? Or just to give yourself a reason to monitor this case so closely without raising any eyebrows? And then you waited two fucking years?”

  He frowned. “I have spent these past two years looking for the Horn, calling kristallos demons to track it down for me, but I couldn’t find a trace of it. Until I realized I didn’t have to do the legwork. Because you, Bryce Quinlan, were the key to finding the Horn. I knew Danika had hidden it somewhere, and you, if I gave you a chance for vengeance, would lead me to it. All my power couldn’t find it, but you—you loved her. And the power of your love would bring the Horn to me. Would fuel your need for justice and lead you right to it.” He snorted. “But there was a chance you might not get that far—not alone. So I planted a seed in the mind of the Autumn King.”

  Everyone in the room looked to the stone-faced Fae male.

  Ruhn growled at his father, “He played you like a fucking fiddle.”

  The Autumn King’s amber eyes flashed with white-hot rage. But Micah went on before he could speak. “I knew a bit of taunting about the Fae’s waning power, about the loss of the Horn, would rankle his pride just enough for him to order his Starborn son to look for it.”

  Bryce let out a long breath. “So if I couldn’t find it, then Ruhn might.”

  Ruhn blinked. “I—every time I went to look for the Horn …” He paled. “I always had the urge to go to Bryce.” He twisted in his seat to meet Hunt’s stare and said to him mind-to-mind, I thought it was the gallery, some knowledge in there, but … fuck, it was her.

  Your Starborn connection to her and the Horn must have overcome even the masking power of the Archesian amulet, Hunt answered. That’s quite a bond, Prince.

  Bryce demanded, “And summoning the kristallos these months? The murders?”