House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City #2) by Sarah J. Maas

Silence fell, the temperature dropping with it. She demanded, “Why is it getting colder?”

“Sometimes their powers manifest the environment they’re encountering.” Before anyone replied, the Astronomer twisted a brass dial. “What do you see, what do you hear?”

The male twitched again, red water splashing over the edge of the tub and dribbling into the pit beneath. Tharion peered over the iron rail. “His lips are turning blue.”

“The water is warm.” The Astronomer tutted. “Look.” He pointed to the screen. A graph of rising and falling lines, like sound waves, appeared. “I’ll admit the new tech has some advantages. The old way of transcribing was much harder. I had to reference every single brain wave to find the correlation to the right letter or word. Now the machine just does it for me.”

I don’t care about brain waves, Bryce thought. Tell me what’s happening with Connor.

But the Astronomer rambled on, almost absentmindedly, “When you speak, your brain sends a message to your tongue to form the words. This machine reads that message, that signal, and interprets it. Without you needing to say a word.”

“So it’s a mind reader,” Tharion said, face pale in the lights. Bryce drifted closer to Ithan—the wolf radiated dread.

“Of a sort,” the Astronomer said. “Right now, it is more of an eavesdropper, listening to the conversation the mystic is having with whoever is on the other end of the line.”

Tharion asked, hands behind his back as he peered at the machines, “How does it know what the other person is saying?”

“The mystic is trained to repeat back the words so that we may transcribe them.” The screen began to flash a series of letters—words.

“Too dark,” the Astronomer read. “It is too dark to see. Only hear.”

“Can you pinpoint where in Hel your mystic is?” Ithan indicated the holographic levels far below.

“Not precisely, but judging by the cold, I’d say deep. Perhaps the Chasm itself.”

Bryce and Ithan swapped glances. His eyes were as wide as her own.

The Astronomer kept reading. “Hello?” Silence. Nothing but endless silence. “This is very common,” the Astronomer assured them, gesturing them to move closer. Despite herself, despite her objections, Bryce leaned in to read the feed.

The mystic said, I am searching for the soul of a wolf called Connor Holstrom.

Someone, something answered.

No wolves have roamed these lands for eons. No wolf by that name dwells here, living or dead. But what are you?

Ithan shuddered, swaying a step. With relief, Bryce realized—because that was the dizzying, rushing sensation in her body, too.

“Strange,” the Astronomer said. “Why were we drawn to Hel if your friend isn’t there?”

Bryce didn’t want to know. Tried and failed to open her mouth to say they should go.

I am a mystic, the male said.

From where?

A faraway place.

Why are you here?

To ask questions. Will you oblige me?

If I can, mystic, then I shall.

What is your name?

A pause. Then, Thanatos.

Bryce sucked in a sharp breath.

“The Prince of the Ravine.” Tharion fell back a step.

Do you know if Connor Holstrom remains in the Bone Quarter of Midgard?

A long, long pause, the sound waves flatlining. Then—

Who sent you here?

A wolf, a mer, and a half-Fae, half-human female.

How the mystics had known of their presence, Bryce had no idea. Didn’t want to know what sort of perception they possessed while in those isolation tanks.

Thanatos asked, What are their names?

I do not know. Will you answer my questions?

Another long pause. “We need to stop this.” Ithan nodded toward the male’s tub. Ice was beginning to inch over the water.

They are listening, are they?

Yes.

Again, silence.

And then the demon prince said, Let me see them. Let them see me.

The mystic’s eyes flew open in the tank below.





39

A shuddering inhale was the only sign of discomfort Bryce would allow herself as she stared at the hologram displayed in the center of the orrery. The male now contained inside its dark border.

Thanatos’s tightly curled black hair was cropped close to his head, displaying the handsome, unsmiling face above the powerful body bedecked in dark, ornate armor. He gazed right at Bryce. As if he could indeed see through the mystic’s eyes.

The Astronomer fell back a step, murmuring a prayer to Luna.

The feed kept going, in time to Thanatos’s moving mouth. Hunger filled the demon’s expression.

I can smell the starlight on you.

The Prince of the Ravine knew her. Somehow.

The Astronomer took another step back, then another, until he was pressed against the wall behind him, shaking in terror.

Thanatos’s dark eyes pierced to her soul. You’re the one my brothers speak about.

Ithan and Tharion glanced between her and the demon, hands within easy reach of their weapons—little as they could do.

“I came to ask about a friend’s soul. I don’t know why I’m talking to you,” Bryce said, and added a bit quietly, “Your Highness.”

I am a Prince of Death. Souls bow to me.

This male had none of Aidas’s slickness or what Hunt had told her of Apollion’s smug arrogance. Nothing that indicated mercy or humor.