The Iron Thorn - Caitlin Kittredge [171]
“I saw him,” I insisted. “He got me out of there.”
“Aoife,” Dean said as glass shattered and gears shrieked in the bowels of the house. The traps whirred to life against an overwhelming attack. “We should go with him, much as I hate to say it.”
I looked from Conrad to Dean, to Cal and Bethina, who clutched his sleeve.
“All right,” I told Conrad. “But only for now. You better believe you’re going to explain this to me when we’re safe.”
“Say it,” Conrad said. “Or the gate doesn’t work. Say that you trust me.” He held out his hand, but I grabbed Dean’s instead.
“I trust you, Conrad.” I still did, in spite of everything. My brother was still my brother, and when he’d asked for my help those weeks ago he hadn’t lied to me.
Conrad turned his eyes on Dean. “And how about you, halfkin?”
Dean’s lip pulled back to show his teeth. “Only because I don’t got a choice, friend.”
“Anywhere has to be better than here right now,” Cal agreed. “C’mon, Bethina.”
“You have nothing to fear,” Conrad said. “Not from me. Fear the events you’ve set in motion, and the ripples from this world to the worlds beyond.” He held out his hand to the doorway. “Aoife. You first.”
I shook my head, still holding on to Dean. “We go together.”
“Together,” Dean agreed. “Or not at all.”
“Fine!” Conrad snapped. “Whatever you like, just go.”
He sounded more like my brother then, and a little of my trepidation vanished.
Dean and I stepped into the Mists as one, and blackness gripped me. Not the sick vertigo of Tremaine’s hexenring, but a vast and windy emptiness that seemed to stretch on forever. I saw visions of Lovecraft, burning and forsaken. I saw the lily field, trampled, and the glass coffins, shattered. I saw the stars and the eyes of the Great Old Ones, burning up space as they flew onward, infinite.
I was falling toward a place made of smoke and shadow, a darkness I had only seen in nightmares, but Dean was with me and Cal, Bethina and Conrad were behind.
I fell into the Mists, passing worlds beyond number as I did, while above me, the stars turned out of time, in a vast and darkening sky.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing a novel is oftentimes a solitary and maddening pursuit, and I’d like to thank everyone who’s aided or influenced me individually, but that would run on for pages, so I’ll try my best here: My mother, Pamela Kittredge, who gave me a love of books and who never minded that I only wanted to read the scary stuff. My amazing literary agent, Rachel Vater, who took the Iron Codex from an odd idea to full-blown, contracted series of novels. Krista Marino, my endlessly patient editor, and the entire team of copy editors, publicists, marketing staff and designers at Random House for their unending support of Aoife and her story. The book would never have been finished without the encouragement of my fellow authors and friends: Mark Henry, Richelle Mead, Kat Richardson and Tiffany Trent. Special thanks belong to Cherie Priest, Sara McDonald and Stacia Kane for the literal hours they endured of my assuring them the book would never be finished and that I was going to be forced to go join a shady circus to make ends meet, because I was just no good at this writing thing. They kept telling me I could finish, and I did. And I’m not cut out for circus life, anyway. Any number of fabulous fellow writers influenced this story with their work, but I owe particular thanks to Mike Mignola, Holly Black, Ed Brubaker, Warren Ellis and Joe Hill. Joe, I’m sorry I inadvertently stole the name of your city. Feel free to steal it back. Finally, I want to thank everyone who introduced me to the finer and funner aspects of the steampunk community in Seattle and beyond—it’s a brave new world, and I’m thrilled to be part of it, goggles, dirigibles and all.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CAITLIN KITTREDGE is a history and horror movie enthusiast who writes novels wherein bad things usually happen to perfectly nice characters. But that’s all right—the ones who aren’t so nice have always been her favorites. Caitlin lives