Page 73 of Spirit Storm

“Accurate, but grim, P.” Asher stands to clear the plates. “We’ve learned that the key is probably a person who lives in the New World, that lockstones can be repaired, and that the information might well have been handed down among the other surviving members of the Descendants of the Nine.”

“And you saved your sister and fixed Wylder,” Orion adds. “It’s been a hell of a week, but Asher’s right. It does us no good to be sucked into the negative.”

I draw a deep breath and stride over to get the strawberry rhubarb pie out of the oven. “You’re right. I’m just frustrated.”

“Well, there’s nothing a little pie and ice cream can’t fix.” Asher pulls the carton of French vanilla out of the freezer and follows me back to the table.

Rowan snorts. “Your optimism is adorable, even if there’s no logic or truth to it.”

Asher frowns. “Do you want pie or not?”

Rowan sobers. “My bad. Of course, pie can change the world. Everyone knows that.”

“Much better.” Asher sets down the ice cream and then goes back for the pie lifter, scoop, and plates. “At least there haven’t been any bizarre earthquakes, and Poppy hasn’t had any visions. That suggests that no more lockstones have been broken.”

“But why not?” I ask, cutting the pie into six pieces. “The first two broke a day apart. And that was almost three days ago. What does that mean? Where is he? What’s he waiting for?”

Asher closes his hand over mine and pries the knife from my fingers. “Take a load off, baby girl. I’m starting to get murderous stabby-stabby vibes off you.”

I arch a brow, but he’s not wrong. If Tharuzel were here right now, I would definitely be going to Stabby Town. “I’m just saying… I've cross-referenced Freya's information with Order databases to map potential lockstone locations based on geological patterns and magical ley line intersections. So far, I've identified seven possible sites across four continents. Why didn’t someone just keep track of where the lockstones were set? If the Order had the information, we could get ahead of Tharuzel.”

Rowan accepts her pie and ice cream and digs in. “Seven possible sites. An unknown number of lockstones in total. And Tharuzel has already trashed two. I’d say it’s not so bad.”

“I’d say the math makes my stomach hurt. We have no idea how close we are to Demon D-Day.”

My laptop chimes with a new email notification, and I abandon my dessert to go over to the island to check what’s come in.

As much as I’d like to think happy thoughts, after the disappointment of the last response, I click over to my inbox, half-expecting another slap to the face.

Re: Descendant of the Nine

I close my eyes. Please, please, please….

Hi Poppy,

I heard about what happened to Henrik. I'm sorry for your loss and for all you're dealing with.

I'm willing to share what my family knows about the lockstones and the original binding, but I’ll need to meet you first. Face to face.

Not because I don't trust you—okay, partly because I don't trust you—but mainly because my grandmother made me swear I'd never put it in writing.

If you're serious about stopping whatever's happening, come to Nassau. I live in the Bahamas. Once we talk in person, I'll tell you everything I can.

Let me know.

Khylie

Hope flares hot and bright in my chest. "Yes! Finally. Someone actually wants to help."

Wylder steps in beside me, reading over my shoulder. "She wants us to go to the Bahamas?"

“What’s that now?” Asher jumps up from the table and hurries over. “Yeah, baby. Finally, a perk to being in the trenches. We’re going, right? Please say we’re going, P.”

“Oh, we’re going.” I'm already typing a response, fingers flying over the keys.

Khylie,

Thank you so much for being willing to help. I completely understand wanting to meet first—honestly, I'd be suspicious too if some random American emailed me about ancient demon-locking rituals.