Damn it all to hells, he’s right. I see that there are seven levels, now that I can count the windows, and the walls of the castle are easily scalable, made of rough rock that protrudes all over the place—plenty of ledges and grips to make it to the top.
It’s definitely faster, especially for Boone, who is, of course, a fantastic climber, and it’s much safer than facing the automatons. That’s assuming I can make it. I’m not the worst at wall-work, but I’m not the best, either, and we have no ropes.
Boone must read my mind, because he winks. “I’ll make sure you get to the top.”
He means it.
“Move over.” I wave him back impatiently.
With a chuckle, he maneuvers so that he’s no longer sitting on the windowsill but scaling the wall off to the side. I sit and swing my legs over, then look for the best foot- and handholds. In seconds, I’m also hanging from the side of the castle, looking up, trying to remember my training and map out the first set of moves.
“To the left?” I ask.
“No.” He points. “Right. See that larger outcropping?”
“Got it.”
We start climbing. My heart is pounding so hard, I can feel the blood pump in my ears and temples. At least once, I see a glow from one of the windows near the top. Diego’s halo, I guess, or maybe Dae’s necklace. And a few yells come from various levels. I’m careful and slow, trying to keep most of my weight on my legs, not my arms, as we make it past one window. We’re just coming to the next windowsill when Boone whispers, “The humming.”
I cut the sound off in my throat. “Sorry.”
Quietly, we split and make our way to either side of the opening.
When the sill is about hip height on me, I pause to look for a different handhold. As I turn my head to search, a flash of something silver lashes out from inside the tower. A blur, it’s so fast. All I know is Boone lunges so that he’s between me and whatever is coming at us from inside.
I see the way he takes the impact, his big hands curling around the windowsill as his body jerks. He grunts. Hard.
Then, without a pause, he reaches for me. Trying to move me out of the way or make sure I don’t fall—I’m not sure which. It all happens in an instant. When he turns away, I suddenly can see the stain of red already seeping into the tear in his shirt, a wide gash across his chest.
But the silver thing from inside comes at us again before I have a chance to so much as gasp—and then Boone’s in the air.
His face contorts with shock as he wheels his arms, and I reach out a futile hand for him, grasping nothing as he falls away.
“No!” I think I scream it as I watch him drop.
It feels like time has slowed and the fall takes a lifetime.
Drops of blood follow him down like rainfall, and Boone’s horrified eyes never leave my face, even when he hits the spikes. I hear the thud, crunch, and gurgle of the impact, even from up here.
“Lyra.” I can’t hear him, just see his lips move. Then he coughs up more blood.
A tiny firefly strays from the safety of the trees to flicker in front of him curiously, and Boone sees it…and smiles. Then he looks up, seeking me out like he wants us to share that moment and not the reality of what’s happening. His gaze stays on mine, then, even as the life oozes out of him. He doesn’t look away once, not until his head lolls back and his entire body goes limp around the spikes skewering his chest, shoulder, and leg, holding him aloft.
“Boone!” I’m screaming for sure now as time catches up in an almighty rush. My next scream lasts what feels like an eternity, and I don’t stop until my voice is raw.
I take a quick, hiccupping breath. It cuts off abruptly with a jolt of pain as a blur of silver strikes at me from inside the room, nearly knocking me off, too. I see it this time—through a blur of tears and anguish—a whiplike tentacle made of metal, with a lethal-looking sharp-tipped end. That thing is what knocked Boone off the tower wall.
I have my axe in my hand in a flash, just as that tentacle shoots out again.
I slam my axe down on top of it, and the blade penetrates, pinning the thing to the wood of the windowsill. And then I climb.
I have no choice.
I don’t let myself look down. If I see Boone’s mangled body again, I know I’ll lose it. I have to reach the top. A shadow flies by overhead—probably one of the Daemones, but I don’t look. Avoiding the windows, I climb and climb and climb until I’m at the battlement wall at the top. I manage to use the narrow slits between stone blocks to pull myself up and over, muscles burning, heart aching.
The second my feet hit the roof, I spin around to lean over and look for Boone. But before I can see him, arms wrap around me from behind. Hades. I’m sure of it. He doesn’t give me time to look at Boone again or react at all before we disappear.
Not to end up in the forest. Not to go wherever the others who have finished or are waiting for loved ones to finish have been taken. Not to return to the third floor to start all over like I semi-expect, given the cheat to get to the top. Not even to Hades’ house in Olympus.
When we reappear, I’m standing in the circle of Hades’ arms, my back against the warmth of his body. We’re in a library. Columns, not fluted or Greek but inlaid with turquoise and gold, bracket a divided staircase winding on both sides up three stories to a glass dome showing a velvety sky that’s not a sky outside. And books everywhere.
I’m standing with him in the Underworld.
In his home.
I’m sure of it.
He drops his forehead to the back of my head. “Lyra.” His voice is a quiet murmur. Hesitant. Not like Hades at all.
And that’s what finally punctures the numb bubble I wrapped around myself in order to get up that fucking tower. It’s when the image of Boone’s face as he fell, the twisted sight of his broken body on those spikes, finally hits with the reality that, unlike the last Labor, I can’t wake him up this time. There is no magic. He’s really gone.
I crumple.
And Hades catches me.
part 6
dead loss
