hand into a pocket. “I realize you’re upset, but nothing could be served by seeing her now—”
“I have a right to see her body.”
“No. Actually, you don’t.”
“Screw that.” It was bad enough she had to die alone,no way these sons of bitches were keeping him from her. He looked at Bosch, imploring.“I’ve always been there for her.
Always.
And you people have no right to steal that from me.”
For a moment, he thought he saw sympathy flash in the elder man’s eyes. But it was gone as fast as it had appeared. “The Alliance has executed her, Mr. Lang. Nothing will be gained by viewing her body.”
“Goddammit, I need to see her.” He could still feel her, and until he saw her body, he knew that he’d never get through his head that she was really and truly dead. “You had no right,” he said. “No right. She was human.”
“She was condemned by an Alliance Tribunal,” Bosch said, his voice flat. “Its jurisdiction is clear.”
“Its jurisdiction is shit,” he spat, and around him the wind began to rage.
Bosch didn’t appear the least bit rattled. “Mr. Lang, you have my condolences, but it’s time for you to vacate the premises. Please, let me have one of Division’s agents give you a lift home.”
“Fuck your lift and fuck you. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not—” He stopped, pain and failure overwhelming him. Their grandmother had bound the two of them, charging Kiril with the responsibility of watching over Petra—of protecting her from the world and the world from her.
He’d failed. Epic fail, actually. And he was paying the price now.
But maybe not as deeply as he’d first thought.
He could still feel her.
“Mr. Lang?”
“I’ll go,” he said, because there could be only one explanation. “You fuckers won’t help me, so I might as well go.” He needed to get out of there. Needed to leave fast, get home, and meditate.
It made sense now. It all made sense. And he hoped to hell he was right. Please, God, let him be right.
They wouldn’t show him Petra’s body, because Petra wasn’t dead.
CHAPTER 7
Nick stood in the dark and stared into the dimly lit cell at the thing that slept inside, surrounded by the gnawed and bloody bones of animals that had been dropped down from the trapdoor to feed it. A thing that looked like Sergius, but was Sergius no more.
One touch from Petra, and Nick’s friend had vanished, all possibility of battling down the daemon that had risen within Serge destroyed. Ironic that so recently it had been that very daemon they sought to subdue and control—a house cat compared to the beast that now raged within. Pure evil, conjured with dark magic, no longer gaining life from blood, but from death and pain. Old magic, Nick assumed, drawn from the earth itself, and that wasn’t the kind of thing that Nick knew how to fight.
He would learn, though. Nick had spent much of his life dabbling with alchemy, looking for the cure to death itself. He hadn’t found it—not the way he’d expected, anyway—but he had never abandoned the love of science. Chemistry and biology had been his particular favorites, and he knew one thing for certain: Even with all their differences, humans and shadowers were nothing more spectacular than a pattern of molecules.
The girl’s touch had manipulated those molecules, creating a chemical reaction in Serge that had changedhim at the most basic level. But if those molecules could be manipulated to form a monster, they could be manipulated to restore the man. And even if Nick had to take the girl to the very end of creation to find the answer, he would learn how to restore his friend.
Part of Nick wanted to hate Petra for turning Serge into a monster; the other part pitied the woman whose torment surely rivaled his own. He had battled back his daemon; Petra lived with her curse every moment of every day.
The thing in the cell shifted, eyes slitting open to reveal blood-red irises. Then a slow grin spread
“I have a right to see her body.”
“No. Actually, you don’t.”
“Screw that.” It was bad enough she had to die alone,no way these sons of bitches were keeping him from her. He looked at Bosch, imploring.“I’ve always been there for her.
Always.
And you people have no right to steal that from me.”
For a moment, he thought he saw sympathy flash in the elder man’s eyes. But it was gone as fast as it had appeared. “The Alliance has executed her, Mr. Lang. Nothing will be gained by viewing her body.”
“Goddammit, I need to see her.” He could still feel her, and until he saw her body, he knew that he’d never get through his head that she was really and truly dead. “You had no right,” he said. “No right. She was human.”
“She was condemned by an Alliance Tribunal,” Bosch said, his voice flat. “Its jurisdiction is clear.”
“Its jurisdiction is shit,” he spat, and around him the wind began to rage.
Bosch didn’t appear the least bit rattled. “Mr. Lang, you have my condolences, but it’s time for you to vacate the premises. Please, let me have one of Division’s agents give you a lift home.”
“Fuck your lift and fuck you. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not—” He stopped, pain and failure overwhelming him. Their grandmother had bound the two of them, charging Kiril with the responsibility of watching over Petra—of protecting her from the world and the world from her.
He’d failed. Epic fail, actually. And he was paying the price now.
But maybe not as deeply as he’d first thought.
He could still feel her.
“Mr. Lang?”
“I’ll go,” he said, because there could be only one explanation. “You fuckers won’t help me, so I might as well go.” He needed to get out of there. Needed to leave fast, get home, and meditate.
It made sense now. It all made sense. And he hoped to hell he was right. Please, God, let him be right.
They wouldn’t show him Petra’s body, because Petra wasn’t dead.
CHAPTER 7
Nick stood in the dark and stared into the dimly lit cell at the thing that slept inside, surrounded by the gnawed and bloody bones of animals that had been dropped down from the trapdoor to feed it. A thing that looked like Sergius, but was Sergius no more.
One touch from Petra, and Nick’s friend had vanished, all possibility of battling down the daemon that had risen within Serge destroyed. Ironic that so recently it had been that very daemon they sought to subdue and control—a house cat compared to the beast that now raged within. Pure evil, conjured with dark magic, no longer gaining life from blood, but from death and pain. Old magic, Nick assumed, drawn from the earth itself, and that wasn’t the kind of thing that Nick knew how to fight.
He would learn, though. Nick had spent much of his life dabbling with alchemy, looking for the cure to death itself. He hadn’t found it—not the way he’d expected, anyway—but he had never abandoned the love of science. Chemistry and biology had been his particular favorites, and he knew one thing for certain: Even with all their differences, humans and shadowers were nothing more spectacular than a pattern of molecules.
The girl’s touch had manipulated those molecules, creating a chemical reaction in Serge that had changedhim at the most basic level. But if those molecules could be manipulated to form a monster, they could be manipulated to restore the man. And even if Nick had to take the girl to the very end of creation to find the answer, he would learn how to restore his friend.
Part of Nick wanted to hate Petra for turning Serge into a monster; the other part pitied the woman whose torment surely rivaled his own. He had battled back his daemon; Petra lived with her curse every moment of every day.
The thing in the cell shifted, eyes slitting open to reveal blood-red irises. Then a slow grin spread
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