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

Ithan blurted, teeth clattering with the cold, “Can you tell if Connor Holstrom’s soul somehow got lost in Hel?”

Thanatos frowned at his knee-high boots, like he could see all the way down to the Pit levels below.

The wolf is your brother, I take it, he said to Ithan.

“Yes.” Ithan’s throat bobbed.

His soul is not in Hel. He is … His attention snapped again to Bryce. Ripped away skin and bone to the being beneath. You slew one of my creations. My beloved pet, kept for so long on your side of the Crossing.

Bryce managed to ask, breath clouding in front of her, “You mean the Reapers? Or the Shepherd?” A shepherd of souls—for a prince who peddled them. “The Under-King said you abandoned it after the First Wars.”

Abandoned, or intentionally planted?

Great. Fantastic.

“I had no interest in being its lunch,” Bryce said.

Thanatos’s eyes flared. You cost me a key link to Midgard. The Shepherd reported faithfully to me on all it heard in the Bone Quarter. The souls of the dead talk freely of their world.

“Boo-hoo.”

You mock a Prince of Hel?

“I just want answers.” And to get the fuck out of here.

Thanatos studied her again—as if he had all the time in the universe. Then he said, I will give them to you only out of respect for a warrior capable of slaying one of my creations. Shall I meet you on the battlefield, however, I will take vengeance for the Shepherd’s death.

Bryce’s mouth dried out. “It’s a date.”

Connor Holstrom remains in the Bone Quarter. My Shepherd observed him on its rounds the night before you slew it. Unless … Ah, I see now. His eyes went distant. An order was dispatched from the dark. He shall be left alone with the others until the usual amount of time has passed.

“Who gave the order?” Ithan demanded.

It is not clear.

Bryce demanded, “Is there a way to help souls like Connor?” Whether he was ushered through the Dead Gate tomorrow or in five hundred years, it was a horrible fate.

Only the Asteri would know.

Tharion—the asshole—cut in, “Can you determine the location of a human boy named Emile Renast in Lunathion?”

Bryce stiffened. If Apollion was actually seeking Emile … had they just dragged another Prince of Hel into the hunt?

“That is not how this works,” the Astronomer hissed from where he still cowered by the wall.

I do not know this name or person.

Thank the gods. And thank the gods the prince’s words held no hint of awareness about what Emile was, or what Apollion might want from him.

Tharion drawled, “Know anyone who might?”

No. Those are matters of your world.

Bryce tried and failed to calm her racing heartbeat. At least Connor remained in the Bone Quarter, and they’d gotten a cease-fire.

“Kid’s a thunderbird,” Tharion said. “Ring any bells?”

“Tharion,” Ithan warned, apparently on the same page as Bryce.

I thought the Asteri destroyed that threat long ago.

Bryce cleared her throat. “Maybe,” she hedged. “Why were they a threat?”

I grow tired of these questions. I shall feast.

The room plunged into blackness.

The Astronomer whispered, “Luna guard me, your bow bright against the darkness, your arrows like silver fire shooting into Hel—”

Bryce lifted a hand wreathed in starlight, casting the room in silver. In the space where Thanatos’s hologram had been, only a black pit remained.

The male mystic jerked violently, submerging and arching upward. Red liquid splashed. The other two lay still as death. The machine began blaring and beeping, and the Astronomer halted his praying to rush to the controls. “He has snared him,” the male gasped, hands shaking.

Bryce flared her light brighter as the feed began running again.

It has been a long while since a mortal fly buzzed all the way down to Hel. I will taste this one’s soul, as I once sipped from them like fine wine.

Frost spread over the floor. The male mystic arched again, thin arms flailing, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.

“Cut him loose!” Bryce barked.

Please, the mystic begged.

How sad and lonely and desperate you are. You taste of rainwater.

Please, please.

A little more. Just a taste.

The Astronomer began typing. Alarms wailed.

“What’s happening?” Tharion shouted. Down below, the ice crept over the other two mystics in their tubs.

The prince continued, You have gone too deep. I think I shall keep you.

The male thrashed, sending waves of red water cascading into the void below.

“Turn off the machines,” Ithan ordered.

“I cannot—not without the proper extraction. His mind might shatter.”

Bryce protested, “He’s fucked if you don’t.”

The Prince of the Ravine said, I do not care for my brothers’ agenda. I do not heed their rules and restraints and illusions of civilization. I shall taste all of you like this—you and your masters—once the door between our worlds is again open. Starting with you, Starborn.

Ice exploded across the walls, crusting over the submerged mystics. The machines groaned, planets flickering, and then—

Every firstlight and piece of tech went out. Even Bryce’s starlight vanished. Bryce swore. “What—”