The Dire King (Jackaby #4)(77)

“You,” I panted, climbing the rest of the way up onto the platform beside her. “You did it.”

“No.” Alina sank to the ground. Her eyes were on the body lying at her feet. “I ruined everything.”

I sat down beside her. Charlie’s body lay still on the platform.

“You wanted purpose,” I said quietly. “That’s what your brother wanted, too—something to run toward instead of running away. The Dire King made you feel like you had found your purpose—but his purpose was never really yours. You found your own way, in the end.”

“Too late.” Alina’s shoulders heaved. “So many people are dead. My family—” Her voice cracked. “And now the veil is crumbling around us.”

“The veil can still be mended,” I said. “Jackaby—” I stopped.

“The Seer is dead,” said Alina.

“No,” I said, swallowing hard. “She’s not.”





Chapter Thirty-Three

My insides churned as the machine burst to life. I held the gem in one hand, and the black blade felt heavy in the other. The hardest part had been the crown. Neither Alina nor I had wanted to touch the terrible thing, but in the end I had put it on. Crown to focus the power. Blade to direct it. Gem to survive it.

I pointed the sword to the farthest edge of the unraveling veil and concentrated. The crown felt like a band of ice around my forehead as my mind cleared of all thoughts but the one. There was only the veil. I followed the patterns with my mind, willing them to knit together. I had no idea what I was doing. Bit by bit, the threads slid together and the two worlds slid apart. The veil was healing.

It was like drinking boiling water. The earthly trees slipped behind the curtain, and the rolling fields of the Annwyn stood alone once more. The heat rose in me until it felt as though my blood had been replaced with fire. The ruined walls of Grafton’s church faded away, and soon Hafgan’s Hold was Hafgan’s Hold once more. I willed the last frail ends of the veil to come together, pulling the rend together from a gap of one hundred feet across to fifty. I didn’t know how much longer I could stand it. Thirty. I closed my eyes, but the visions still hung in front of me—there was no respite for the Seer. Twenty. The world swam. My whole body burned. Darkness closed in.

And then the pain was suddenly—not gone, exactly, but someone else’s. I felt it as though from far away. I opened my eyes. A stranger clad in purest black stood over me. A memory. A shadow I had seen only once before in the depths of the underworld.

“Hello, Abigail Rook.”

I could not find words to speak. My mind turned to Charlie and Jackaby, both dead on the battlefield. Had I joined them?

“You have not gone to the other side,” said the stranger. “Not yet. But you may, if you choose to. I wonder. Will you? It’s a very human thing to do, after all. They’re always writing about it. Pyramus and Thisbe. Romeo and Juliet. You and I both know that you have nothing to fear from the other side, little mortal. Only old friends. Will you join him? You love him. I can see it.”

My body felt both weightless and very heavy all at once.

“Very well,” said the stranger.

I opened my eyes. Jackaby’s face hung in a halo of light above me. I caught my breath. I hadn’t chosen this. More faces appeared beside his. Jenny. Hudson. Lydia. All of them were swimming in their own glow, lit by brilliant auras. They radiated love and pride. The one face I wanted most to see was not among them.

My head throbbed. “I’m not dead?” I said.

“We didn’t know for sure for a while,” said Jackaby. “Very odd thing, not knowing.”

“But you, sir!” I said. “You were dead. I saw you! You’re . . . alive?”

“That’s Jenny’s doing,” said Jackaby. “And it was physical science, no less. No magic involved.”

“Well, I did reach inside your chest when the compressions weren’t working,” Jenny admitted. “But otherwise, good old-fashioned medical care, yes.”

“She saved my life,” said Jackaby. “No—I guess that isn’t right. She brought me back. Which, I suppose, makes me undead as well, now, doesn’t it?” He sounded a little too tickled at the notion. “I was definitely briefly dead, after all—as evidenced by the sight leaving my body.” His expression sobered. He looked into my eyes. “I had no right to do it, Miss Rook,” he said. “I am so sorry. It was the only thing I could think to do, the only way to give you a chance at mending the veil after I had gone. It should never have been your burden to bear. I just couldn’t imagine it falling to anyone else. I couldn’t imagine anyone else understanding.”

“I expect that’s how Eleanor felt when she willed it to you,” I said. “It’s fine. It’s done.” I looked him in the face. He looked positively destroyed. Except his eyes. His eyes looked, somehow, younger.

“They’re blue,” I said. “Your eyes have turned blue.”

“They always were,” he said. He allowed himself a soft chuckle. “Yours went red for a while there. They’ve turned gray now. They’re like storm clouds.”

I pushed myself up. We were still high atop the machine. Down below, there was a circle in the center of the courtyard twenty feet wide. Through it, human and inhuman soldiers were staggering toward the keep, gazing up at us on the tower for answers. “The rend isn’t fully closed,” I said. “I still need to finish this.”