I set my mind to developing all sorts of reasons why Hadrain was a bad father. The only thing I come up with is that Kera had once said her father was an intellectual, more interested in hypothetical scenarios than reality. Plus the fact that he tried to marry his daughter to a power-hungry warlord who tried to kill us both. Other than that brainless move, by all appearances Hadrain cares deeply for his daughter.

As I sit, I hear Kera's faint call. My eyes pop open, and I'm startled to realize it's been a while since I've heard her. I try to connect to her, but I can't. How is it I have an overabundance of magic at my fingertips, yet I'm stuck waiting on a human. My irritation climbs even as I tell myself to calm down.

Another thirty minutes pa.s.ses, and I'm not sure how Jason's done it, but none of the maps show where he is. A quiet thread has begun, saying he's dead. Jason would love that, get us to let down our guard only to pop back up twice as c.o.c.ky and bent on killing me and everyone around me.

"He's not dead," I say and push myself from the overly cushioned chair and pace. "Don't ask me how I know. I just do."

"Fine." Wyatt pushes the latest map off the table, and I watch it flutter to the floor. "Then he's a little coward hiding in a hole while his army creeps up on us."

We hear the sound of running and Reece punches the door open, getting all our attention. "She's gone. Signe's gone."

"Are you sure?" Maybe she's in the bathroom. Mom was known to camp out in our bathroom, forcing me to dash outside and find a discreetly located bush to pee on.

"She's gone to the bridge."

"Why?" Hadrain asks. "She cannot cross. None of us can."

"We were talking to that ugly little guy earlier..."

"Bodog..." I offer.

"Right, and he said magic is set against magic. Like at Signe's caves where only those without magic can find them." He looks at me. "There is a bridge, but there is no bridge. It's there, but who around here would be able to cross it? Get it?"

G.o.d, I hate Bodog's hidden speech. "Now I do."

"I'll admit," Reece says, "the idea is possible, but he's crazy, right? Except Signe didn't think so. She thinks the Unknown works the same way as the caves."

"Why would anyone, with or without magic, want to go into the Unknown if it's as bad as everyone says?" Wyatt asks.

"They wouldn't. It was created to keep those they disliked in. Bodog said most of those sent there have some form of magic that keeps them there."

"So she thinks she can just walk across that bridge and enter the Unknown?" Halim smacks his hands on his face and groans.

"She's a woman. Of course she does." Reece grabs the sword we took from one of the dead soldiers outside the gates. "I'm going after her."

Halim crosses the room, stands in front of Reece, and pulls out a heavy-handled knife. "If you're going, I'm going with you."

Reece looks around the room accusingly. "Where'd he get another knife?"

Halim snorts and tucks it back from where he pulled it. "I'm not dumb enough to only carry one."

A heavy sigh escapes Reece and he puts a hand on the boy's head. "You're staying here with Wyatt."

That babysitter announcement gets Wyatt's full attention. "Dude! You can't expect-"

"You're staying here," Reece says, making it clear he won't tolerate an argument. "You have a job to do."

"You're more important." The break in Wyatt's voice reminds me he only recently found Reece, and it's obvious he's not yet willing to let his brother go and maybe lose him again.

Reece turns Halim around and pushes him back toward the table. "I'm one guy, Wyatt. You have the opportunity to protect hundreds of thousands and make a real difference."

Wyatt's not ready to let it go. "You can't go alone. You need backup."

I have no problem stepping forward. "I'll be his backup. I'm done staying put." I've given Leo as much time as I'm willing to give.

"You can't, cross."

"And for all we know, Signe can't either. But if she's right, I want to be there." Maybe there's something I can do. There's got to be.

Wyatt shoves all the other maps away and slaps down the map of Teag that shows where the enemy has retreated to. We have to go around a huge contingent, but Halim shows us one of his shortcuts, and if we're quick and quiet enough, we should be able to sneak by.

Hadrain clears his throat. "Faldon mentioned you now have his power. Whenever he needed me, he would send up a fireball." He moves his finger from the manor house to the bridge. "It's far, but send it out at the right angle and we should see it." We all stare at one another. We're as prepared as we can be.

Reece and I resupply the bags Signe gave us at the caves and secure them over our shoulders. Under heavy guard, we make our way to the gates. Once outside the fortified walls, Reece and I find the bodies are being cleared, mostly burned after they're stripped of anything valuable. The smell of death has me choking. Reece grabs a couple rags from somewhere and hands me one, and we tie them across our faces.

I see two men toss another body onto one of the huge funeral pyres, and I wince as the flames lick at the dead man's flesh. The sight of so many bodies being reduced to ash is disturbing. "Burning them in the open like this seems wrong."

"People dying for no reason is wrong, and from what Signe has told me, most of these men didn't have a choice. Their leaders ordered their deaths. How I see it, letting good men rot in the open is worse."

I still don't understand why the firsts are bound so tightly to their word. It's a flaw I'm glad I don't possess, and because I can break my word and lie and deceive at will, it's the reason they marked me for death. But who is the bigger man? Someone who has no choice in his actions, or someone who chooses to keep his word, not deceive others, and tell the truth? "A man is only a man if he still acts knowing the end result may bring about his death."

Reece stares at me, his eyes narrowing against the billow of smoke and ash. "Sounds like you've been hanging around Wyatt too much, but I don't disagree."

We run through the area and into the forest. When we're far enough away from the funeral pyres, I take off my makeshift mask and stuff it into my pocket. All around us, there isn't a patch of earth that isn't charred, trampled, or ripped up.

Reece rips his off and breaks out in a sweat. "What was she thinking going off by herself?"

"I don't think she did. Did you see Bodog?"

"No." He sighs. "I don't know if I'm glad about that or more worried."

"He's probably taken her underground, which is a lot safer than what we're doing."

Reece seems to chew on that as he stows his mask, though his body is still taut and ready for a fight.

There's nothing we can do but keep moving and hope we find Signe before anyone else does. We travel deeper into the forest, and it's not long before we hear the enemy. We aren't even a mile from the manor and its defenses, and by the size of the encampment, you wouldn't know they took heavy losses.

"If we take Halim's shortcut and shoot over there," I point toward the right where the woods grow thicker, "they shouldn't know we're even here."

We take Halim's shortcut, and almost make it completely around the enemy camp when we hear a loud, definite snap like twigs breaking under a foot. We slow and I make a full turn, unable to determine from which direction the sound came.

Reece stops next to me. "I don't see anything. It could've been an animal."

He barely gets the words out when a succession of arrows fly toward us. We hit the ground. When the area clears, I look at Reece, who's got an arrow sticking out of his shoulder. With a throaty growl, he yanks it free and tosses it into the bushes.

"You okay?" I ask, amazed at how calmly he's acting.

He pulls his hand away from his shoulder, where a hole the size of a nickel seeps blood. "I'm not dead. Well...not yet."

I motion him my way, and as we zigzag through the woods, we hear footsteps behind us. We dive behind a cl.u.s.ter of trees and Reece winces. "I think it's safe to say we're not as clever as we thought."

Heat builds in my bones, and I step out, sending fireb.a.l.l.s into the men following us. I blast a huge tree and it explodes, sending chips of wood in every direction and fire into the air. I dive back behind the trees and hunker down next to Reece as arrows zip past. He looks from me to my hands. "Do your grandparents know you can do that?"

"Sort of, now hold on." I grab him and send us up into the trees for cover. Arrows follow us. I hear the enemy calling to one another as they run toward the disaster I've caused. We have to leave before they organize themselves.

"Trust me?" I ask Reece.

He winces and nods past the pain. His shoulder is bleeding profusely, and it wouldn't surprise me if it gets infected.

"Relax and let me do all the work." The limb we're situated on inches back, and when there's enough tension, we shoot forward to the next tree. We land and are pitched immediately to the next tree and the next and the next.

At a safe distance, we drop back to the ground. Reece catches his breath, and all the color drains from his face. I'm not sure he knows he's collapsed and is rocking back and forth as he holds his shoulder. Blood seeps past his fingers and stains the left side of his T-shirt a deep red.

"Dude." I kneel in front of him and help him lie back. His eyes are glazed with pain and his breathing is shallow. "This is bad. I can help, but it's not going to be pleasant."

He grunts, closes his eyes, and stretches his T-shirt over his shoulder to expose the wound. I take that as an okay. The hole is ragged, sliced deeply into his muscle. I position myself in a way that braces my legs and weight on his body to keep him still. Then, just like I etched my name in the swing on grandma's porch, I slowly run my finger along the wound, searing it as best I can.

The smell of burning flesh and blood permeates the air. Reece stiffens. His eyes roll back in his head. For a split second, I think he's going to pa.s.s out. I pull away and he lets out a low deep growl.

I tear off his sleeve and make a rough bandage out of the stretchy cloth. "Can you keep going?"

"Yes."

His short answer tells me two things. He's tough and he's determined. I pull him to his feet and we take off. Everywhere we turn there is some form of destruction. Fallen trees, razed homes, scorched fields.

Jason's been busy acting out his dysfunctional issues.

When we finally approach the bridge, the area is crawling with soldiers.

I pull Reece down and he sags against a tree, his head in his hands. "Should have seen this coming, but I didn't."

"Why would they camp here? There's nothing here for them." And then I remember Halim pointing to the map and the thick line of black within the Unknown. "Jason. He's going to unleash what's in the Unknown. That has to be it."

Reece rubs his face and stares up through the tree limbs. "What is his problem? I get that his dad is a piece of work, but that little p.r.i.c.k is going above and beyond the tantrum stage."

"I don't know," I lie. This isn't the time or place to confess how I abandoned Jason, leaving him in a panic buried within a tangle of tree roots. Some friend I am. I took a perfectly decent guy and made him into a raging psychopath.

"Wait here." I scooch on my belly to the edge of the clearing. My nose is full of the loamy smell of forest debris. I quickly do a head count. It isn't as large a contingent as I first thought-more than twelve, less than twenty-and they're heavily bogged down with setting up the tents and arranging all the gear of camp life. There's no sign of Jason, but when I glance toward the bridge, I see something that has me squinting to be sure-Signe and Bodog sneaking toward the bridge. It's only a matter of time before the soldiers see them.

I hustle back to Reece, and when he sees me, he pushes to his feet. "What?"

I must look as panicked as I feel. "She's with Bodog and they're going for the bridge." We scramble back to the clearing and hide behind some trees. I point to where I saw them, and a few seconds later we see them dart between the trees.

Reece ducks back out of sight. "She's going to get herself killed."

"I'll deal with the soldiers." I motion toward his shoulder. "How do you feel?"

He tests its mobility and winces. "Been better, but I'll manage."

"Okay, then." I'm not going to argue with him. "You run as fast as you can and get Signe." I nod at the sword he's carrying. "Tell me you know how to use that."

"In theory."

I sigh, not at all surprised. "Don't use it unless you have to. And if you find yourself in trouble, give it to Bodog."

"You're kidding." He acts like I just told him Bodog is my half brother I've had hidden Quasimodo-style until now.

All Reece knows is Bodog the whimpering little man. He hasn't seen what I have. "I'm dead serious. He knows exactly how to use it."

Reece reluctantly gives me his word, and I nod. "Good luck. On three."

Reece crouches, and I feel my muscles tense, ready to spring into action. "One. Two. Three."

We both shoot out of the trees. Reece's arms pump and legs spin in a mad dash for Signe. I barge right into the camp, pull out my sword, and slice into the first man I see. I dodge, then turn back on the next guy, killing him with one blow. Dodge and strike. Kick, spin, and jab. I make my way through the camp like an angel of death until I'm standing amid a pile of bloodied and broken bodies.

When I turn to find Reece and Signe, I don't see them. Only Bodog stands, leaning on the stick that holds the spirit of Faldon. My grandfather's face appears in the wood, and the scratchy dry words that crawl from the wooden lips make me feel sick to my stomach. "You've become quite the expert at killing, Dylan. Well done."

I storm over to Bodog and point my flaming sword at Faldon's shrinking face. "I don't enjoy it. Not like you." Then I round on Bodog. "Where'd they go?"

He strokes the stick as if he's consoling Faldon, and glares at me. I'm beginning to think he's not going to tell me when he points a long, k.n.o.bby finger toward the bridge.

It's like someone punched me in the chest. They went into the Unknown. Without me. "How are they going to survive?"

Never Let Go.

Time. It slipped along, sometimes quickly, sometimes excruciatingly slowly, dipping into day and night at will, without reason.

How long Kera floated in the black abyss, reaching for dreams she couldn't catch, she had no way of knowing. But finally, a dream came near and she latched on, falling into it with a sigh of relief.

When she opened her eyes, she was immediately aware of two things. She was dressed in clothes from Dylan's realm-jeans, T-shirt, and tennis shoes. No pinching corset or uncomfortable shoes. And she stood in Faldon's kitchen beside the long oak table with his chemistry tubes and vials hissing and dripping away. A sense of home washed over her weary nerves.

The last time she was here was with Dylan. If she closed her eyes, she could see him. When she opened her eyes, the room was empty, and only a lingering sense of Dylan remained. She felt a pinch to her heart and rubbed her arms as if to warm herself, though she wasn't cold.

She stepped to the table and ran her hand along the old oak top, then looked around. Everything was as it should be. A bird stand loomed in one corner. A huge sink gobbled up the s.p.a.ce of another, and between the two, a ma.s.sive oven intruded into the square footage of the kitchen. Pots and pans and dried herbs hung from the rafters. There was the scent of life and death here, but that didn't alarm her. Faldon had been their healer. His herbs and magic were sought by everyone.

She heard something, like a man clearing his throat. "Faldon?"

She took a step toward the door that separated the kitchen from the rest of the house. But for the makeshift laboratory, the house was achingly quiet. When she reached the door, a tiny mew came from the opposite side. Faldon was a great believer in rehabilitating creatures their world had damaged or considered dangerous. He called it his great social experiment. Always the scientist. She missed him terribly.

Kera opened the door and walked down the short hall to the living area. Peeking inside, she saw a fire in the fireplace and a man sitting in a chair. He sat at an angle that hid his ident.i.ty, only revealing the swishing white tail of a cat he held on his lap.

Kera paused, somehow knowing it wasn't Faldon. She must have made a noise, because the man leaned forward, and the cat hissed upon seeing her.