Page 5 of Claim the Twilight
I take a calming breath. “The wards will hold her in place. The white wings can pass through, back and forth. They’ll carry information between us and the Order as needed.”
“So we wait?”
“Yes, we wait.”
The temperature drops, and inside the cell, Orina curls in on herself for warmth, whimpering softly in sleep.
Daisy materializes by Ezekiel’s cot, a full-bodied manifestation that sucks the remaining heat from the room.
Her dark gaze flits to the cell, and her mouth turns down.
“What is it?” Ezekiel asks.
“Ingrid requires your presence in the dining room,” she says.
The end to Ezekiel’s curse may not have freed me or Ordell, but it freed the ghosts of Blackwood, giving them the choice to pass on. But many remain. Including Daisy and Ingrid.
“I don’t need to eat,” Ezekiel says stiffly.
“And I’m not hungry,” I add.
Daisy frowns. “And what does Miss Lighthart need? Guardians who are fueled and ready to fight against the darkness or limp lovers mooning at her side?”
Ezekiel bristled. “Limp…What the?—”
“Understood.” I bite back a grin at the indignation on Ezekiel’s face. “We should eat.”
Ezekiel exhales in frustration. “Fine. Tell Ingrid we’re on our way.” He runs a hand over his face and looks back at the cell. “Do you think Ordell knows? All the way out in the Rim…He should be here. He’d want to be here.”
“Once the white wings contact us, we can ask them to get a message to Ordell. But until then…all we can do is hope that maybe the bond he has with Orina allowed him to feel…something.”
Ezekiel nods slowly. “If he finds out what’s happened, then nothing will keep him away.”
Orina and Ordell are bonded through his beast, and if he did feel her die, then…I can only imagine the horror he’s experiencing right now.
Chapter 3
ORDELL
“Back up! Now!” The guard at the border to Dracul territory attempts to shove me. I grab his wrist and twist. He cries out and buckles.
I shove him away from me, a growl vibrating in my throat. “Try that again and I’ll rip off your hand, do you understand?”
He stares at me, wide-eyed. “You can’t get through,” he says again, this time with less authority. “Not without the official documents from the Order.”
“I told you, I don’t need documents. Iamthe Order. Get me a superior officer now! Tell them Ordell Singer is here.”
This was bound to happen. Only the top tier of the Order knows about Hemlock and me—that we formed the organization, that we have authority. We should have planned for this eventuality. For the possibility of being outside the territory if the wards went up.
But we didn’t, and now I’m stuck on the border of Dracul with a shimmering wall of power separating me from the woman I love. A woman who’s in danger.
Dread tore me from sleep last night, the conviction that Orina was in mortal danger forcing me from my bed, permitting me to leave my children in the care of the Sisters and drive to the phone station to call Orina.
The call refused to connect.
Not to her. Not to Hemlock. Not to anyone who might be in Dracul.
And now I’m here, stomach filled with rocks because the thing we feared for centuries, the thing that we worked our asses off to prevent, has come to pass.
