Chapter 7 · A Wall Made of Fear

"Don't touch it again!" Lira's palm slammed into my chest and shoved me back from the screaming Anchor.

The thing wasn't shining. It was shrieking. That dirty white pillar of light we'd just lit was tearing the air open and my teeth hurt just standing next to it.

"I wasn't trying to turn it off," I said. "I was trying to hold it steady."

"You don't hold an Anchor, you idiot! You feed it or it feeds on you!" Her hand was still fisted in my jacket, knuckles white. Her face was two inches from mine and her breath was coming fast and hot against my chin.

"Contact! Northwest!" Bram bellowed from the edge of the platform, rifle up. "Two minutes! Maybe less!"

I looked past Lira. The dead zone we'd claimed, this broken courtyard of black stone, was lit up like a goddamn flare. The Anchor we'd just forced awake was a column of raw light and that scream was rolling out across the Deep for miles.

And something was answering.

You could feel it through the soles of your boots. Thump. Thump. Thump.