Chapter 5 · Chapter 5: That Isn't Mom

"That's not her," he says.

I twist around. "You don't know what she sounds like. You haven't heard her in twelve years."

"Neither have you." His grip tightens. "And hunters know it."

The voice comes again, softer now, like it's drifting closer. "Mara, please. I came back for you."

My throat closes up. I know it's stupid. I know Dorian's probably right. But that voice has the same little rasp Mom used to get when she was tired, the way she'd stretch out my name when she wanted me to listen.

"Let me go," I say.

Dorian's jaw sets. "No."

"I said let go."

"And I said no." He pulls me back from the window. "If you go out there, you're dead in thirty seconds. That's the point."

I'm about to tell him where he can shove his thirty-day deal when the penthouse door explodes inward.

Not unlocked. Not kicked open. Exploded. The steel frame peels back like tinfoil and the whole slab crashes onto the marble floor. Smoke pours through the gap. My ears are ringing.

Dorian shoves me behind him. His other hand goes to his belt and comes up with a black pistol I didn't know he had. He doesn't aim it at the smoke. He aims it at the hallway to our left.

"They're flanking," he says. "Stay behind me. Don't run."

"What the hell just—"

"Breacher hex. Military-grade." He takes two steps back, forcing me with him. "Whoever's funding this wants you bad."

A figure steps through the smoke.

It's a woman. Older, maybe fifties. Dark hair streaked with grey, pale skin, torn jacket. She's barefoot. There's blood on her shins. She looks right at me and smiles.

"Mara," she says in Mom's voice. "You signed it, didn't you? You signed his paper."

I can't breathe.

It's not her face. It's not her body. But the voice is perfect.

"Don't answer," Dorian says quietly.

"I'm talking to my daughter," the woman says. Her smile doesn't move. "Not you, Ash."

Dorian raises the gun. "Last chance. Walk out."

The woman laughs. It's Mom's laugh. The one she used to make when I said something ridiculous, half-affection and half-disbelief. I feel it in my chest like a fishhook.

"You can't shoot me," she says. "Your wards are down. The Council's already inside. And she knows now, doesn't she?" Her eyes flick to me. "You heard the recording. You know your mother gave you up."

"Shut up," I say. My voice comes out thin.

"She sold you, baby. Signed the contract herself. Ash didn't steal you. She handed you over."

"Mara," Dorian says. "Don't listen."

But I'm already listening. Because the woman's mouth is moving with Mom's voice and even though I know it's fake, even though I can see it's a trick, some part of me wants to believe she came back.

"Why?" I ask.

The woman tilts her head. "Why what?"

"Why would she do that?"

"Because the Gate wanted you more than she did."

Dorian pulls the trigger.

The sound cracks through the penthouse. The woman's shoulder snaps back and she staggers, blood spreading fast across her jacket. But she doesn't fall. She straightens up, still smiling, and I see the hole in her jacket close itself. Skin knitting back together like it was never open.

"Silver," she says. "Cute."

Dorian swears under his breath. He fires again, center mass this time, and the woman takes the hit without flinching. The bullet sparks against something under her skin and drops to the floor, flattened.

"You can't kill a Echo," she says. "We don't die until the message is delivered."

"Then deliver it and get out," Dorian snaps.

The woman's smile finally fades. She looks at me again and this time her eyes are empty. No warmth. No recognition. Just black pupils and a flat, dead stare.

"Your mother sold you to the Eclipse Council when you were six years old," she says. "The payment was her freedom and a twelve-year delay. The Council honored the delay. Now they want what they paid for."

My knees want to fold. I lock them.

"You're lying," I say.

The woman shrugs. "I'm a Echo. I can't lie. I only repeat what I was paid to say." She takes a step forward. Dorian shifts to block her but she's not looking at him anymore. She's looking at the ring on my finger. "That's a Ash binding mark. You signed the marriage contract."

"Yeah," I say. "So what?"

"So the Council won't honor his claim. You were sold first. His contract is void."

Dorian's voice drops into something lower, rougher. "She's under my protection now. The bond is sealed."

"The bond is irrelevant." The woman's head tilts too far to the left, like her neck is broken. "The Eclipse Council doesn't recognize second contracts. She belongs to the Gate."

She lunges.

Dorian moves faster than anything human should. He drops the gun and his hand comes up glowing with pale silver light. He slams it into the woman's chest and she screams—not with Mom's voice this time but something high and shrill and wrong. The light spreads through her body like cracks in glass. Her skin splits. Black smoke pours out.

Then she explodes.

Not fire. Not blood. Just smoke and a sound like tearing fabric. I throw my arm up too late. The smoke hits me and it's cold, so cold my lungs seize. I'm on my knees. I don't remember falling.

Dorian's hands are on my shoulders. He's saying something but I can't hear him over the ringing in my ears. The smoke is clearing. The woman is gone. There's nothing left but a black stain on the floor and the smell of burnt hair.

I look up at him. His eyes aren't grey anymore. They're gold. Bright, animal gold. His teeth are too sharp.

"What the hell are you?" I rasp.

He doesn't answer. He's looking past me, at the broken door. His hand moves to my arm and he hauls me to my feet.

"We're leaving," he says.

"Leaving where?"

"Somewhere the Council can't track you."

"You said this place was safe."

"It was." His voice is still wrong, layered with something that sounds like gravel and growling. "They shouldn't have been able to breach the wards. Someone gave them access."

"Who?"

He finally looks at me. His eyes are still gold. Still not human.

"Someone who knew your mother," he says.

Footsteps echo in the hallway. More than one set. Dorian's head snaps toward the sound and I see his shoulders shift, bones moving under his shirt in ways that shouldn't be possible.

"How many?" I whisper.

"Four," he says. "Maybe five."

"Can you fight them?"

He smiles. It's not a nice smile. It's the kind of smile that makes you want to run in the opposite direction.

"Yeah," he says. "I can fight them."

His hand tightens on my arm. The ring on my finger flares hot and I feel something snap into place, like a chain locking shut.

"But you can't," he says. "So you're going to do exactly what I say. Understand?"

I nod. I don't have a better option.

The footsteps are closer now. Dorian moves toward the hallway, pulling me with him. Then he stops. His whole body goes rigid.

"What?" I ask.

He doesn't answer. He's staring at the black stain on the floor where the Echo died. There's something written in the ash. I didn't see it before. It's a single word, spelled out in shaky letters.

GATE.

No. Not just the word. A location. Coordinates. Numbers and a symbol I don't recognize.

Dorian's jaw works. He looks at me and for the first time since I met him, I see something close to fear in his face.

"That's where your mother is," he says.

My heart stops. "What?"

"The Gate. That's not just a place. It's a prison." He crouches down, studying the coordinates. "And if the Council's sending Echoes to tell you about it, that means they want you to go there."

"Why?"

He stands. The footsteps are right outside now. Shadows move across the broken doorway.

"Because," Dorian says, "your mother isn't missing. She's bait."

The first hunter steps through the smoke.

Dorian's hand comes up, claws now instead of fingers, and the last thing I see before everything goes to hell is his face shifting, splitting, turning into something with too many teeth and eyes that burn like molten gold.

Then the hunters start shooting and the world goes loud and red and I don't know if I'm screaming or if that's just the sound of Dorian tearing them apart.