The Beyond (A Devil's Isle Novel)

by Chloe Neill

  He pounded his fist again. “You’re welcome.”

  Gavin unlinked his hands, sat up. “You think the Devil’s Snare is going to work?”

  “Yes,” I said. “We tested it, and I survived with magic intact. We just have to get the Seelies in its path.”

  Solomon perked up. “The Devil’s Snare?” he asked, looking around. “That’s what you’ve been working on?”

  “Yeah,” Mos said, eyes narrowed. “Why? What do you know about it?”

  “Nullification,” Solomon said. “Some stones, some magic, and it knocks the power right out of you.”

  “How did you hear that?” I wondered, and felt Liam’s curious gaze on me.

  “Heard talk.”

  “Did Aeryth know about it?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Court knows about it. Heard about it in Elysium. That’s one of the reasons the fighting started.”

  I looked up at Liam and Gavin, caught their nods. The Precepts had been so sure the Court hadn’t known about their secret weapon. But they absolutely had. Little wonder Aeryth and the others had decided to take their chances in our world when the other option was having their magic stripped away completely.

  Something hard struck the plywood that covered the third-floor window, and then the wrench of metal screamed through the darkness.

  Gavin and Liam went to the front of the store, looked through the gap we’d left in the plywood so we could keep an eye on things outside.

  “Balcony railing,” Liam said.

  There was another screech of metal, a shearing away that shook the store’s foundations, and then another crash.

  “And balcony,” Gavin added.

  And canoe, I thought. I decided I wasn’t going to worry about the ornaments as long as the walls stayed up. I hoped to God the walls would stay up.

  “Would they have pulled off bricks?” I wondered.

  “Shouldn’t have,” Liam said, “but Gavin will go look.”

  “Are you volunteering me?”

  “Cost of room and board during the storm, frère.”

  Gavin grumbled, but tramped up the stairs.

  “Back to the other drama,” Tadji said. “What do we do about the Seelies?”

  “We get them in front of the weapon,” I said.

  “How?” Tadji asked. “We send them a pigeon?”

  “Not exactly,” I said, and looked at Liam. “We use a bat signal.”

  “A bat—ahh,” he said, nodding. “The beam from the Inclusion Stone,” he said, and explained to the room what it had done in the garage.

  “If it works across a room,” I said, “why not try shooting it into the sky?” I looked at Malachi. “That would work, right?”

  He blinked in surprise, then considered. “The magic should refract off the water in the air, create additional brilliance. So, theoretically, yes.”

  “So the Seelies see that, and they’re going to wonder what’s happening.”

  “You think they’ll see it, investigate.”

  “Or know what it is and come to claim what’s theirs.”

  “And when Aeryth arrives?”

  “I’ll offer her a deal. We give her the Devil’s Snare, and she goes back to the Beyond and leaves us alone.”

  “No,” Malachi said. “We cannot risk it falling into her hands.”

  “We won’t let it. We won’t even let her get close to it, and you’ll all be there, out of sight. Along with some Containment agents. You and Burke have made people invisible before.”

  They’d used a similar trick when we’d gotten Eleanor out of Devil’s Isle. Burke manifested the invisibility; Malachi helped him extend it. Now they had Liam to add to the mix.

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Liam said, crossing his arms over his chest. “But they may assume it’s a trap and stay away.”

  “You only need them to take a look,” Moses said. “Aeryth’s not going to resist the chance to get her hands on the weapon.”

  “She’ll think she can take out humans with the storm,” Malachi said, “and Paras with the Devil’s Snare.”

  Gavin came down again. “Walls are fine. Third floor is leaking like a sieve, but the water is hitting the pots you left out. We’ll need to dump them eventually.”

  “Storms are a pain in the ass,” Moses said.

  “How are you going to do all this luring in the middle of a hurricane?” Tadji asked.

  “I also prefer a less drenchy option,” Gavin said.

  “It won’t be easy,” Liam said. “But we can’t very well sit here while they flood us out.”

  “Is this weapon safe?” Moses asked. “It won’t screw us in the process?”

  “It won’t,” Darby promised.

  “But you can stand behind me just in case,” I told him.

  “Okay,” he said with a nod. “That’s better.”

  “The Devil’s Snare isn’t going to completely disable them,” Burke said. “It will take their magic, but not their physical strength. And they’re going to fight.”

  “We’ve got Containment, Consularis Paras, and ourselves,” Liam said. “And if we’re going to fight them, it’s better to do it on our turf. There’s almost no one left in the Quarter but Containment, so injuries and fatalities can be controlled. And if there’s flooding, it will likely be less here than in other parts of the city. Ground’s higher.”

  “And if we do this right,” I said, “Devil’s Isle is right down the road for their ultimate incarceration.”

  “It’s a simple plan,” Gavin said. “But simple plans can go wrong just like complex ones.”

  “Ah, but it’s not a simple plan,” Tadji said with a smile. “It’s just that you’ve finally made it to the last step. Think about it—Darby finds the notes. Claire’s dad finds the Inclusion Stone. You go into the freaking Beyond to get the other thing—” She glanced at me.

  “The Abethyl,” I said with a smile.

  “That,” Tadji said, nodding. “You make it back alive, you figure out how to put this weapon together, and you come up with a way to use the weapon against the bad guys. Very complex,” she said. “And you’ve nearly reached the end.”

  “It’s a good plan,” Burke said. “But Containment won’t go for it during the storm.”

  We all looked at him—and the grim expression on his face.

  “What do you mean?” Gavin asked.

  He pointed to the window. “Category five hurricane. One-hundred-and-fifty-mile-per-hour winds, and that’s not including the rain, debris, flooding, storm surge. Containment has done some crazy shit, but even they won’t run an op in a hurricane.”

  “So we just let them destroy us?”

  “I don’t think that’s our only option.” I looked at Darby. “They can’t stop the hurricane completely, right?”

  She shook her head. “There’s no way they have the magic for that. Slow it down, sure, enough to do some real damage. But not stop it completely. There’s too much energy.”

  “How does that help us?” Burke asked.

  “Because the hurricane will continue moving north or north-northeast,” I said. “And it will give us a respite.”

  “The eye,” Darby said.

  “Exactly. That’s our window. The rain breaks; we use the Inclusion Stone; we lure them in. We take their magic, and Containment rides to the rescue. But that’s hours away. What do we do in the meantime?”

  “We get a message to Containment,” Burke said, pulling out a satellite phone. “And we try our best to survive.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  As the eye drew closer, the storm got worse. The noise was incredible. The wind screamed like a freight train bearing down on us, and the rain was percussive, each drop striking the window like a hammer.

  It was obvious this wasn’t an ordinary storm. Red l
ightning crackled as the magic built up, discharged. And there was a vibration in the building, in the air, that didn’t have anything to do with temperature or pressure. It was the residue of the Seelies’ magic, of the power they piled on top of the storm to keep it fueled, to keep it stationary. To keep it dumping inch after inch of water on New Orleans.

  When water began to seep beneath the front door, we took the stairs to the third floor, sat or stretched out on spare mattresses, blankets, and pillows around a dozen candles and the bowls and coolers that sat on the floor to catch drips from the ceiling.

  Moses claimed the only bed, because “Dibs still works in hurricanes.” Tadji sat in front of it, her back against the foot, a book in one hand and a mini-flashlight in the other, reading a book as Burke stared at the ceiling, his head on her legs. Liam’s back was against the interior wall, and I sat in his arms, staring up at the glowing stars that dotted the ceiling. I’d nearly forgotten about them, and finding them shimmering in the dark made me feel better.

  Even the Peskie was quiet; she’d fallen asleep after getting into the bottle of wine we’d opened. She’d found a thimble and convinced Solomon to fill it up. Half a dozen times.

  It was comforting to have everyone here together, to know they were relatively safe despite the noise and shuddering. And as I looked around at them, it finally occurred to me: Maybe home wasn’t just a latitude or a bit of brick and stone. Maybe it wasn’t just heat or humidity or purple and gold.

  Maybe it was safety. Maybe it was familiarity. Maybe it was about feeling at home wherever you were. Maybe it was not about the place, but about the people. And hadn’t I found mine? Tadji, Burke, and Gunnar. Liam and Gavin. Moses and Malachi. We’d laughed and cried and fought together, loved and hated and won together. Hidden and run together.

  Those things would exist outside New Orleans, outside the Zone. Whether they’d exist outside war would depend on us—on whether we stayed together or drifted apart, and whether we were bound together by something more than survival.

  I thought we were. I thought we were a kind of family, and the ties between us weren’t just because of location or circumstance, but because we were right for each other, all of us. Tadji’s seriousness, Burke’s sense of duty, Gavin’s snark, Gunnar’s loyalty, Liam’s sense of honor.

  If we wanted a chance to grow, to become more, we might need that to happen outside the boundaries of New Orleans. Without the boundaries of New Orleans—and the limitations placed on us by war and wants.

  We were survivors. We had grit. And we’d have those things outside New Orleans, too. And we’d have one another.

  My heart was so full. So as the world fell apart outside, I was finally ready to accept the gift I’d been offered.

  I looked back at Liam, candlelight flickering across his beautiful face.

  “Yes,” I said.

  He’d been looking toward the window, and it took a moment for him to turn back at me. “Yes, what?”

  “Yes—to us.”

  It took another moment for understanding to dawn in his eyes. And when it did, it was glorious. The haze of shimmering gold spread light across the room. Enough that a few of the others looked over.

  “You were right,” I told him. “You don’t say no to love because you’re afraid the world will fall apart around you. You say yes because you’re afraid the world will fall apart around you. Because that’s what keeps you together. Because love is the reason you keep trying.”

  His smile blossomed, and he leaned in, pressed his lips to mine. “I love you, Claire.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “But I need you to stay here.” And he wiggled out of our warm little embrace and headed for the stairs. He was gone before I could ask what he was doing.

  “Not the reaction I was hoping for,” I murmured.

  “It’s because you’re too tall,” Moses said. “I’ve always said that about you.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  There was thumping on the stairs, and Liam appeared again, then rounded the banister.

  “What’s it look like down there?” Burke asked.

  “Wet,” Liam said with a cheeky grin, and went to his knees on the floor. And opened his palm to reveal a navy velvet ring box.

  Tadji sucked in a breath just as something big hit the roof, caught, and with a scream peeled away wood and tar paper in the corner of the bedroom.

  Water began to pour in.

  “Grab that tarp!” Gavin said, and he and Malachi used the bright blue plastic we’d brought upstairs to create a make-do patch.

  I was torn between watching them repair my beloved store and staring down at the box in Liam’s hand. My heart was thudding, and that had nothing to do with Frieda.

  “Is this actually happening?” Darby asked. “Right now? In the middle of a mother-loving hurricane?”

  “Holy shit,” I said, a whisper the only thing I could manage.

  A corner of Liam’s mouth lifted. “I think that’s the appropriate response.” He flipped the box open, revealing beauty. A princess-cut diamond surrounded by a delicate silver filigree that arced around the edges of the ring like lace.

  “Oh,” I said, leaning forward. “Belle époque, probably three-quarters of a carat. A really gorgeous vintage setting.”

  There were groans across the room.

  “Will you please quit appraising the jewelry?”

  “I can’t.” I looked back at him, grinned. “Have you seen this thing?”

  “I have, yes.”

  “Where did you get it?”

  “Eleanor,” he said, with his dimpled smile. “It was hers. She sent it in the box with the chocolate.”

  “Sneaky,” I said approvingly. And then I simply ran out of words. I looked at it again, tried to take in the fact that Liam Quinn was proposing to me, and with his grandmother’s diamond ring. And I only had to say yes. I only had to reach out, to accept the happiness, the happy ending, that was being offered to me.

  “I haven’t yet heard your answer.”

  “We’re all waiting,” said a member of the audience.

  I put my hand over the box, fingers hovering inches above it, and looked back at Liam. “Gavin’s okay with you giving me your grandmother’s ring?”

  “It was my idea,” Gavin said, and my heart melted a little.

  “Y’all talked about this. About me. About us.”

  “Of course we did. I love you.” His tone darkened. “And, for better or worse, he’s family.”

  Gavin sat up from his pallet across the room. “What do you mean, better or worse?”

  “I mean what I said.” Liam kept his gaze on me. “Claire, you frustrate me. You challenge me. You inspire me. I love you, and I want you to be my wife. Will you have me?”

  As it turned out, the answer was easy. “Yes.”

  Cheers erupted as Liam pressed his lips to mine and slipped the ring onto my finger.

  “I can’t promise forever,” he said, lips against my cheek, “because that’s not mine to offer. But as long as I’m alive, as long as my heart beats, it’s yours.”

  * * *

  • • •

  We sent Gavin downstairs for the single bottle of champagne we’d been hiding for months, waiting for good news to crack it open. He came back up with a corkscrew, a sleeve of red plastic cups, and a grimace.

  “Very, very wet,” he said. “Inch of water on the first floor, but the building seems to be holding.”

  “She’ll hold,” I said, and hoped I was right. If a magically protected building couldn’t deflect a Seelie-inflicted hurricane, what was the point of the protection?

  “Big brother’s getting married,” he said, pouring champagne into the cups. “Let’s lift a glass to him and his future bride, Claire-Bear.”

  “To Liam and Claire-Bear!” they shouted, and given
the occasion, I let it go.

  * * *

  • • •

  The night passed in darkness, vibrations, and noise. The rain was constant, and wind roared like a freight train, punctuated by concussions as debris slammed into the building or those nearby.

  And the ferocity only grew as the eye grew closer, and the eye wall—the ring of destruction that surrounded it—spun closer.

  As we waited and prayed and flicked errant water from our faces, I kept looking down at the diamond on my finger; I hadn’t worn jewelry in a long time, and I wasn’t used to the sensation. Or what it meant. Represented. I was still coming to terms with the possibility of commitment and forever, but I knew I’d get used to that, too.

  But even with the weight of love on my finger, it was hard not to worry about the store, the Quarter, the city.

  I sat beside Liam, my arms around my knees, ears pricked for some drop in the volume that would signal the eye was nearly here. “Where would we go?”

  He leaned back against the wall, looked at me. “Go?”

  “If we lose New Orleans. Where will we go?”

  “We aren’t going to lose New Orleans.”

  “Maybe not,” I said. “But maybe we will. And we’ll be a family regardless. So where will we go?”

  “Somewhere with reliable electricity,” Gavin said, cooling himself with a paper fan advertising a Bourbon Street strip club.

  “Where the hell did you get that thing?” Liam asked.

  “What?” Gavin asked, and fanned faster. “Found it in a box on one of my walkabouts.”

  “Your breaking-and-entering trips around the city?” Liam translated.

  “Like we don’t all do it” was Gavin’s retort. He had a point.

  “Paris?” Darby offered, steering the subject back again. “Montreal? If you want the French feel.”

  “Charleston,” I said. “Eleanor and Foster are there.”

  “I like Chicago,” Tadji said. “Or maybe we skip it all and go to the beach. Bermuda.”

  “Or north,” Gavin said. “Iceland.”

  “What the hell would you do in Iceland?” Liam asked.