Rogue Descendant (Nikki Glass) - By Jenna Black Page 0,119

the snow. Which made the lack of footprints anywhere around him noticeable even while my mind was trying to encompass the idea that he was alive and free.

“H-how . . .” I gestured at the ruins and shook my head, unable to form a coherent question.

“I’m not sure exactly what happened,” he said. He had to be freezing standing there in the snow in the nude, but there was no hint of shivering in his voice. “I take it I was inside when the house came down?”

Of course he wouldn’t know what had happened. He’d been dead for most of it. I could have given him a blow-by-blow recap of what he’d missed. But only if my brain had actually been working.

“M-molten metal,” I stammered incoherently. “You were encased in molten metal and h-he brought the house down on t-top of you.” The fact that I was well on my way to turning into a human Popsicle wasn’t making my dialog any wittier or easier to understand.

I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye. He was completely unself-conscious about his nudity, but I couldn’t say the same of myself.

“I can see why he’d have thought that might work.”

I sucked in a deep breath, hoping it would help steady me. Instead, I merely froze my lungs a little more. “H-he said you wouldn’t be able to move.”

“He was right about that, at least.” There was a hint of smugness in his voice, and I couldn’t resist looking at him despite his nudity.

“Then how—?”

“I’m the son of Death, Nikki. There is one way to kill me, and it was not in Konstantin’s power to do. But there is no power on earth that can contain me.” He walked through the snow toward me—leaving footprints this time—and crouched so he was about at eye level. “You remember the Underworld, don’t you?”

I shuddered and nodded. When I’d been hunting Justin Kerner, I’d discovered that some death-god descendants are able to use cemeteries as gateways to the Underworld. I couldn’t tell you exactly what the Underworld is, even though I’ve been there, but it’s not a place we mere humans can get to without aid. I knew that Anderson was able to use cemeteries that way—after all, he’d come into the Underworld to rescue me—but we weren’t in a cemetery right now.

“Neither Alexis nor Konstantin was stupid enough to bury bodies on their own land, so unless we’re sitting on top of some ancient burial ground, this isn’t any form of cemetery,” I said.

“Death-god descendants get to the Underworld by creating a gateway. I, on the other hand, am a gateway. I can create an entrance to the Underworld wherever I am. I told you Konstantin couldn’t trap me by burial or drowning.”

“You didn’t mention being encased in molten metal.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you still have your sense of humor.”

I didn’t actually find it all that funny. If Anderson had just come right out and told me this in the first place, instead of being so cryptic in his impatience . . .

I sighed. It wouldn’t have made a bit of difference. He hadn’t been able to come back from the dead until after I’d already finished off Konstantin. He wouldn’t have been able to help me, and no matter what he’d told me, I wouldn’t have believed he could really escape until I actually saw it.

“We have to get out of here,” I said, glancing up at the sky. It was still dark, but I thought I was beginning to see the first hints of predawn light.

Anderson stared at Konstantin’s inert form. I guess I was getting to know him pretty well, because I knew what he was thinking.

“Unless you can get these shackles off of me,” I said, “you’re going to have to carry me to the car if we want to get there before next Wednesday. I know you’re strong, but can you carry me and Konstantin at the same time?”

Anderson was the son of Death, but he was also the son of a Fury. I’d certainly hurt Konstantin when I’d pelted him with bricks and dropped a hunk of concrete on his head, but when Anderson killed someone, they suffered. Unless their human shell was already dead, that is.

“A quick death is too good for him,” Anderson said through gritted teeth.

“Maybe. But how about you worry about what’s good for us instead? We really don’t want to be here when the police come knocking, and the house is