Grave Consequences - Ivy Asher Page 0,26

Elle asks, looking around at the others, but they all shrug.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier that you were attacked in the Vestibule?” Tazreel demands.

My eyes narrow. “When was I supposed to tell you? Before or after you yelled at me and threw me in the dungeon?”

Gasps fly out of some Abdicated mouths. “You put your progeny in the dungeon, Taz?”

“Oh, please, like you wouldn’t have done the same thing,” he says to Ginger. She just shrugs, not denying it.

“We should be able to narrow it down. If Luce knows who the mother is based on the scythe, then that’s our clue.”

They all move forward until I’m being squished by Abdicated, like we’re all sharing the same tiny ass elevator. They all hem and haw over the scythe, fingers grazing over the wood as they take it in, each of them very careful not to touch the blade.

“I think only Grims can call scythes,” Ace—the slouched ash-colored male—says, his tone quiet.

“I didn’t fuck a Grim!” Tazreel replies, his tone put-out. Some of them look like they don’t believe him.

“But what is a Grim if not a true Gatekeeper? It’s been so long since the other Gatekeepers were around, but wouldn’t they be able to call a scythe too?” Jewelry dude observes thoughtfully. “This scythe is most definitely the key, but Borf is the oldest Savor there is. He would have tasted Gatekeeper in her if it was there,” he adds.

“Unless Borf never cataloged a Gatekeeper,” Elle comments.

“But her coloring…” Driftwood says, interrupting that line of discussion as she looks at my purple wings with envy. “It’s very unusual.”

“Hmm.” The bald male taps his plush lips in thought. At least he’s not still eating. “You said something about Guardians?”

I nod tersely, trying to back away from them so that they can give me a little room to breathe. “I was with them in the Vestibule. But we were overrun with Outer Ringers attacking us. I barely made it here.”

“Call the Guardians, Taz.”

My eyes snap over to him, but before I can open my mouth to tell him the Outer Ringers killed them, he snaps his fingers, and a puff of steam erupts ten feet away, shadowed silhouettes visible through the mist.

For a second, my heart is caught in my throat, choking me with soaring hope, but then the steam clears, and I see two familiar demons. My heart lurches and then stalls. They’re not my demons.

“Flint. Alder.”

Their eyes snap toward me, gazes widening. “Delta? What the fuck is going on? Where are we?”

The crushing sadness claws at me. Just for that split second, I actually thought I was going to see my Guardians. I thought for a millisecond that maybe somehow they came through the attack alive, even though I know better.

I have to clear my throat and blink my eyes rapidly so that tears don’t gather. “Umm, you’re in Nihil.”

Flint’s marble face stretches into an expression of shock. Alder touches his lily flower propped behind his ear, like it’s a nervous gesture, before rubbing absently at his watercolor skin. They both take in the Abdicated warily, their eyes moving from them to me.

Alder’s nostrils flare when his eyes bounce from my scythe to the purple wings hanging from my back. “So you are a true Gatekeeper?” he asks, and I don’t miss the hope that’s dripping from his tone.

“I—”

“Gate Guardian,” Tazreel cuts me off. “Tell me about this attack in the Vestibule,” he demands.

“No, that’s not them,” I intervene. “I know them, but these aren’t my Guardians. Mine…” My voice cuts out, like my throat is strangling me from the inside, refusing to say the words. “They died in the Vestibule protecting me.”

Flint and Alder gape. “What?” they both say at the same time.

I look down at the fabric of my dress, trying to count the little moonstones sewn into the fabric so that I can try to keep my shit together.

“Oh, wrong ones,” Tazreel says.

I lift my head back up, but Tazreel just snaps his fingers again, making Flint and Alder disappear just as quickly as they’d come.

“What the fuck?” I yell at him. “You didn’t even let me explain to them what happened!”

“Quiet, daughter.”

I growl, low in my throat, suddenly furious. “Don’t call me that.”

“This is getting exciting,” Driftwood chirps behind me.

Tazreel ignores me completely and then snaps his fingers again. Steam erupts, once again encasing silhouettes who are looking around wildly. “How about these?” Taz asks.

I give a cursory look to the trio of demons looking back

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