god, I did the only thing I could think of—the thing I knew Oz would have been screaming at me to do had he been at my side where he belonged.
Get the fuck out of there. Live to fight another day.
So I did as his memory bade me and shot toward the gates, leaving the shadowy melee behind me. I flew through the broken entrance and never looked back. But I could feel the eyes of the fear god on me.
And I knew that time would not be the last.
1
I flew over our decaying Detroit neighborhood, headed for the Victorian with a desperation I had never known. It only grew when I saw smoke in the distance. As I neared, my chest seized and my heart raced. I landed in the street at the curb of our lot. What I found awaiting my arrival was nothing short of total devastation.
Smoldering rubble greeted me, a mound of charred wood and broken glass the remnants of what had once been my home—our home. The Victorian was no more. Phobos had obviously gone there first.
I walked toward it, my feet not my own, and stepped onto the burnt grass. Near where the steps had been was a stony figure. I pushed aside the debris and ash to find another disturbing sight; a headless stone gargoyle greeted me. Lying next to it on the ground was a piece of its jaw, the distinct absence of a canine tooth noticeable at first glance. Azriel had fallen protecting the Victorian.
Fear shot through my body. I dropped the stone and ran headlong into what was left of the house, screaming my brothers’ names. Not one of them replied.
With the strength of an army, I threw charred beams and furniture aside, searching for what I prayed I would not find. Surely my brothers would have escaped a fiery death. Pierson’s premonitions would have warned of an attack of this magnitude. They would have had time to get away.
After minutes of looking for them, I had my answer.
I was halfway into the basement when I first found bones. I dug and dug until the entire skeleton was unearthed. I searched it for any sign of identification, thinking that it could have been anyone. I was desperate to believe the lie.
Not long after, two more sets of remains came into view, lying side by side. In one of their hands was Pierson’s black box of magical secrets that normally sat on the bookshelf in the living room. My heart shot into my throat.
Kierson, Pierson, and Drew. My brothers were dead. And Oz was nowhere to be found.
Phobos had killed them all to get to me.
“No,” I muttered to myself, the low keening sound escaping me growing in volume with every moment I spent standing in the graveyard that had once been my home. “It cannot be…”
But it could be, and I knew it. I had fled the Underworld and left everyone I cared for behind to deal with the chaos I had created. The tang of truth was sharp and bitter on my tongue as I swallowed down the bile rising within me.
“This is my fault,” I said, the pain and pressure of grief about to split my head wide open. I clutched it in my hands and squeezed it together, as though that alone could keep the weight of my reality from tearing it in two.
I staggered out of the rubble.
“I have to go,” I told myself, backing away. “I have to see them...”
With every step I took, I could feel my body stiffen, its reluctance to leave the graves of my brothers behind plain. Halfway into the street, I howled in pain, the stabbing in my head enough to shred my mind to bits. I turned away from where the Victorian had once been and ran. Even as the pull to watch over their remains begged me to stay behind, I fought it until its grip on me snapped. I took to the air and never looked back.
I needed to get to the Underworld.
I needed to find my dead brothers.
I stormed Hades’ realm like a woman possessed by grief because that was precisely what I was. Calling for my father until my voice was hoarse, I sped across the Acheron without incident, its fiery waters calming in the wake of my chaos. Aery met me on the other side, her petite features twisted with worry.
“Khara! What—”
“My brothers,” I said, cutting her off. “Where are my brothers?”
Her expression darkened