The Deck of Omens (The Devouring Gray #2) - Christine Lynn Herman Page 0,99

felt everything. And when they cared for someone, they would not hesitate to rush into the line of fire to save them.

Harper had experienced the equinox before, where the lines between the Gray and Four Paths blurred. But she had never seen anything like this. Iridescent ash fell from the cracks in the sky like rain, swirling in the wind. The trees that had grown around the founders’ seal were grotesque, pulsating things?—their roots snarled and knotted together like conjoined fingers. She could feel the spread of corruption through the town, the creep of a death rattle. She hoped Mitzi and Seth were safe, even though they were angry with her. She hoped everyone else had truly left Four Paths.

She didn’t feel like she was in the real world anymore, and yet this did not feel like the Gray, either?—it was both and neither, it was something outside of time, outside of space.

Violet was only a few yards away from the town hall, but it felt as if it had taken years to reach her by the time her thin frame came into view. Roots had wound around her ankles, and she was clutching Orpheus for dear life, the cat’s head buried in her chest.

“What are you doing here?” she gasped at the sight of them.

“Helping you escape.” Isaac’s hands began to glow. He knelt down and set about disintegrating the roots holding Violet in place, while Harper used her sword to slash through the remaining bits of tree. But they were growing fast, faster than Harper had seen before. A root snaked beneath Isaac’s foot, tripping him, while another one tried to yank her left leg out from under her. Harper kicked it away.

“Here,” Violet gasped, shoving Orpheus into Isaac’s arms. “Take him.”

The cat squirmed for a moment, but settled almost immediately. Violet turned, a wild expression on her face, and stretched out her arms again.

“You can’t fight this!” Isaac said desperately.

“I’m just trying to hold it back.” Tears leaked from the corners of Violet’s eyes, sliding down her cheeks. Harper felt a rush of relief as the roots attacking them slowed, then stilled. “We have a few seconds,” Violet said. “Run.”

They did, bolting back through the mist. Harper had no idea how Isaac knew what direction to go in, but she had never been so happy to see the steps of the town hall appear in front of her. A moment later, they had pushed open the door and collapsed in the foyer, all panting on the cold marble floor.

“Well, okay, then,” Isaac mumbled from beside Harper. She turned and realized, to her great amusement, that Orpheus did not appear ready to let go of him. He’d tucked his entire body into Isaac’s jacket, quivering. All that was visible was his gray-striped tail and the tips of his ears, one adorned as always with red yarn. “Uh, Violet? Do you want him back?”

But Violet didn’t even seem to notice. She was already on her feet, riffling through her pockets. “Mom went to get the sheriff as soon as the seal fell,” she said to Harper. “Is there still no service? We couldn’t call anybody.”

“Yeah, none of our phones are working.”

Violet frowned. “I hope she’s all right.”

“You said she was going to find Augusta, yeah?” Isaac asked. “She’s probably safe at the Hawthorne house.”

“She’d better be,” Violet murmured. “I should try to go find her.”

“It’s not safe out there,” Harper said gently. “Your mom can protect herself. And she wouldn’t want you running into danger.”

Violet scowled at her, but Harper could tell she’d seen reason.

“Fine,” she mumbled. “Well, I’m glad you two are here; I have something terrible to tell you?—”

“So does Justin, apparently,” Harper said, pushing open the door to Isaac’s apartment. In their absence, Justin had lit candles, casting the room in a dim glow. At the sight of all three of them, the boy in question stepped forward, his face creased into a relieved smile.

“You’re all okay,” Justin said hoarsely, and then he turned to Isaac. “Huh. I guess you made a friend.”

“He won’t let go.” Isaac attempted again to dislodge Orpheus, but the cat let out a hiss in protest. “Violet, can’t you do something about this?”

“I don’t control him.” Violet’s lips twitched with amusement. “Don’t worry. He’ll detach when he calms down.”

“His claws are digging into my stomach.”

“I think you’ll live. Try scratching behind his ears; he likes that.”

“Enough.” Harper turned to all three of them. “Talk.”

Violet’s story was terrifying on its own, relaying