Caged in Bone (The Ascension Series) by SM Reine Page A

all of twenty seconds to get dressed, and he waited in the nave as Summer followed suit. The pews had been removed to make room for meeting tables. The basement, which used to be occupied by a cult, was now a storeroom. Josaiah was hauling boxes out of storage and loading them onto a cart. “Help?” he asked.
    Abram lifted one of the heavier boxes for him and peeked inside. It was a standard care package—blankets, donated jackets, water bottles. “How many are we expecting today?”
    “No idea,” Josaiah said. “Neuma didn’t have a number.”
    Summer emerged from the office looking bright-eyed and fresh. There was no way to tell that she had spent the night drinking and had woken up late aside from the fact she had pulled her normally wild curls into a ponytail rather than styling them. “You guys still here? What’s taking so long? Let’s get going!”
    Josaiah rolled his eyes behind her back.
    Half of the town was waiting for them outside, prepared to follow them to the bridge at the center of town. Summer waved at them when she stepped out onto the stairs like she thought she was Eva Perón. “Don’t encourage them,” Abram muttered.
    She socked him in the arm. “Don’t be a grouch. They’re excited.”
    The hundred or so humans at their backs didn’t look excited. They looked worried, resolved, suspenseful. But definitely not happy.
    Homecoming was never all that happy.
    Bain Marshall towered over the center of town, hand outstretched, eyes lifted to the sky. The base of the statue was scorched and ash-caked and wouldn’t stay clean no matter how often they scrubbed it. Above the shoulders, he glowed brighter than the hazy winter sky. Below the knees, he might as well have been carved from lava rock.
    The fissure into Dis hadn’t widened lately, but it was already broader than the length of a limousine, so it didn’t really need to grow to look like a hideous scar gouging the face of Northgate. It always felt like the hottest days of midsummer near the fissure. And every gust of wind beat the smoke away so that Abram could glimpse Dis below. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to that.
    As they approached, he caught a glimpse of Summer toying with her engagement ring out of the corner of his eye, lost deep in thought.
    “Abel’s a dick,” he said. “Don’t let it get to you.”
    She looked startled. “He’s not a dick.”
    “He’s being a dick about your wedding. I’d say that makes him a dick.”
    “He isn’t being a—look, stop saying the word ‘dick.’ He’s just worrying about me.” She quickly amended it to, “He’s worrying about us . That’s his job. He’s our father, after all.”
    Abram snorted. “Since when?”
    She poked him in the ear. He swatted her hand away.
    “I’m worried about him, too. Did he seem weird to you yesterday?” Summer asked.
    “Being a dick isn’t weird for him.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Okay, apparently we’re not having adult conversations today. Forget about it. I trust that he doesn’t intend to be mean about the wedding.” But she was still toying with her ring as they approached the fissure. Her face melted into a smile when they entered the square. “Cute,” she said, “really cute.”
    Abram followed her gaze to the pylons marking the edge of the bridge. They were decorated with Christmas garlands. It must have been recent, because the tacky silver plastic hadn’t been caked in smoke yet. Red bows had been tied around the tops of the pylons.
    “Cute,” Abram echoed. More like freaking weird. It was a bridge to Hell. Even if they had an alliance with the current demon in charge, for however long that lasted, it was still a goddamn bridge to Hell. No amount of holiday cheer would change that.
    It must have been the Scions who put up the decorations. That was what the informal coalition that guarded the bridge called themselves. They weren’t anyone special, no soldiers or battle-capable witches—just a few humans with