The City of Dust is surrounded by a towering, jagged crystalline wall in shades of grey and black. On the outside of the wall, the remnants of tall buildings, dead trees, and old power lines lay where they fell ten years ago, cleaved in two when the wall punched through the ground. A sprawling tent city has sprung up nearby, cobbled together from steel beams, slabs of concrete, and wood carved from downed trees. A sign on the road proclaims this to be "Kirkwood".

"Don't you have business here?" I remind Glaris pointedly as he guides his black stallion deftly through the congested road.

Displaced humans part easily for the demon-hunter and his massive warhorse. They give equal berth to Winston and me, throwing themselves up against wobbly partitions to let us pass through.

Glaris looks at me over his shoulder. "I ... yes, yes, you're right, I do."

Does he really expect to accompany us into the city? And here I am just beginning to think that he has more sense than that. What demon-hunter in their right mind would casually walk up to a demon lord's citadel and ask for permission to enter?

"Well, kid, here's where we part."

Kayleigh stares up at him, lower lip trembling as she does her best to rein in her emotions. "I'll see you again?"

Glaris's yellow demon eyes crinkle in amusement. "Of course."

God, he can't lie his way out of a paper bag, but the kid buys it hook, line, and sinker. Was I ever that naïve? It's hard to remember.

Glaris maneuvers his stallion close to Winston so Kayleigh can easily climb between the two. Winston flicks an ear back but doesn't react to the added weight.

Just as I put my heels to Winston's sides, Glaris reaches out and touches my wrist. My eyes fly open; no one has ever dared to touch me so casually. Even Keaton knew better.

"What?" I growl between clenched teeth.

The demon-hunter ignores my ire. "I'll hang out here for a while, in case you need me."

"I doubt that. This is a simple delivery job. I'll be out the other end and on my way in less than an hour."

Glaris holds my gaze steadily. "I'll be waiting," he repeats.

There's something about the way he says that which makes me pause. I don't like second-guessing myself and I certainly don't like the feeling of walking into a trap. Why does Glaris make me do both?

I slam a wall down on my worries and lift a shoulder indifferently. "Sure thing." I cluck to Winston. "Let's go."

The big bull walks on. I can feel Kayleigh turn around, feel her move in a manner that tells me she's waving to the demon-hunter. I keep my eyes on the road.

"Aren't you going to—"

"No."

"You didn't let me finish," she points out.

"I know what you were going to say. I'm not going to miss him."

The kid pauses, and I'm certain she has a smug smile on her face. I scowl and readjust my seat in the saddle. I hate being proven wrong—especially by a child.

Hovering over the entire city is a massive, donut-shaped dust cloud. A constant stream of endless dust flows like a river from the revolving cloud, but strangely, nothing falls on us. I tilt my head back, staring. As I watch, there's a sound like a rushing train and a great burst of dust explodes from the cloud, rocketing down the coast. At the end of this burst, the stream is suddenly cut off—only to start off two seconds later.

Winston's skin shivers and my hand automatically goes out to stroke his neck. Trotting next to us, Egon's black-tipped ears fold backward.

What does that mean? I wonder, frowning.

The tent city ends almost where the wall begins. A tall, elaborate iron and concrete gate prohibit us from going any further. A squat black gatehouse sits on the left side of the barricade; a dozen humans dressed in crimson armor patrol the perimeter while four others process those who wish to enter the city. All of them are either carrying automatic weapons or have them slung over their shoulders. I ease Winston into the queue and wait to be permitted entrance.

As we idle, I glance over my shoulder at the kid. She's clinging to my waist with white knuckles, brown eyes wide. While we traveled, she and Glaris rarely shut up. A constant sort of chatter passed between the two, nearly causing me to stab myself through the ears with a crossbow bolt. This is the first time since the Striker joined us that there has been silence.

And it's glorious—even in the face of a demon lord's lair.

"State your business, Hunter," one of the guards says to me, his voice gravelly. All of the guards' faces are hidden behind plain helmets and dark visors; only their mouths and chins are visible. The edge of a red, raised brand peeks out from beneath the guard's collar.

The guards tense up, AK-47s rising slightly as I slip my hand into my robes. "Safe passage for Hunter Raine Barlow and Kayleigh Abbott," I say, pulling out a small card. "That includes all personal effects carried or owned by said Hunter—me—and the girl."

The guard next to me takes the card and tips up the visor of his helmet to read the small print. What little I see of his face tells me that he's no older than me—another kid swept up in demons' games.

"No pets," he states, pointing at Egon.

"The enfield isn't a pet," I tell him, straightening my back and looking down at him with my most haughty expression. "He's a highly-trained monster-hunter in his own right."

"What the hell is an enfield?" one of the guards in the back mutters. Egon cocks his head to the side, his black nose twitching.

"Who gives a shit?" a third guard retorts, spitting near Winston's cloven hooves. The battle-elk's nostrils flare and he shakes his antlers. Wisely, the guards take a step back.

"Whatever," the guard on my left rumbles. "Let them through."

"Your head, not mine," the guard manning the gate's controls mutters. The gate lifts with a hiss of pneumatics and rises into the air, shaking as it does so. "Get going."

I set my heels to Winston's sides and the battle-elk shifts into a walk. There are a hundred yards between the gate and the tunnel entrance to the city. I feel strangely exposed to a world that isn't covered in layers of brown granules. The skin between my shoulder blades twitches as I scan the area for threats. Winston grumbles, shaking his short tail as my unease passes through to him.

Two more guards standing near the tunnel lift another gate; ten feet beyond that, a third gate lifts at the same time.

We pass through a tunnel that sparkles like the inside of a cracked geode—dark purple, amethyst, and lavender. The colors kaleidoscope over my dingy white garments and I find myself holding out my gloved hand to watch them dance over the black leather.

"Wow ..." I hear the kid breath in wonder.

The tunnel opens up into a bright, sunny square complete with a bubbling fountain in the shape of a mermaid.

Wait—what?

I can't believe what I'm seeing. It's ... completely normal.

Tall, healthy trees; manicured green grass; cool running water; bright, sunny skies and puffy white clouds. There are immaculately paved roads, meticulous sidewalks, and working street lights. Office buildings and homes stand untouched by the Turning. It's so unsettling that I pinch myself to make sure that I'm not dreaming. I did see a giant swirling dust cloud overhead, didn't I? So, where is it now?

"Keep moving," the guard next to the tunnel commands, swinging a baton next to Winston's haunches. The battle-elk's ears pin back and he dances, kicking out with cloven hooves.

"Shit!" the man exclaims, jumping out of the way.

Egon twists around, ears pinned back, shoulder feathers rustling in a warning.

"The Orcus Institute?" I ask the man in a low voice as he brushes dirt off of his crimson uniform.

His head snaps up, eyes obscured by the visor. "Follow the signs," he tells me, pointing the baton ahead at a green road sign. The words "Orcus Institute", mileage and directions are spelled out in bold white capital letters.

I take a deep breath and adjust my grip on Winston's reins. Ten thousand dollars, I tell myself. Ten thousand dollars.

------------

There are no cars in the City of Dust; residents either walk, ride bicycles or travel on horseback. What vehicles I see are supply trucks, closely monitored by Ehtab's military. Those people that I see out and about move strangely and avoid eye contact as we pass them by. It's so odd that I wonder if they're even alive.

The Orcus Institute looks just like I remember it—a simple three-story white and grey building with tinted windows. The only exception is the parking lot, which has been restructured into several stables, four small paddocks, and two rows of bicycle racks.

A massive sign sits atop the roof, stretching almost the whole length of it. Their logo, a giant "O" bisected by an "I", sits at the end—an all-seeing eye overlooking the City of Dust.

My eyes immediately sweep upwards, to a certain window on the third floor. A memory so powerful that I list slightly in the saddle hits me from out of nowhere:

"See that window there?" my mother asks, pointing upward.

"Yeah?" a much younger me answers, unable to contain my excitement.

"That's where Mommy and Daddy work."

"No way!"

"Yes!"

"Are you all right?"

A single tear appears in the corner of my right eye. What the hell? Furiously, I dash the bit of moisture from my face, grateful for the scarves that shield much of my expression.

Clearing my throat, I turn in the saddle to glare at Kayleigh. "Of course."

The kid has the gall to fire back with an arched eyebrow. I'm about to remind her that she was close to pissing herself back there when a shout catches my attention.

A single man in a grey uniform steps out of the little building, arms crossed, waiting for us.

Dismounting, I help the kid down. Taking Winston's reins, I lead him up to the gatehouse; Kayleigh and Egon following right behind.

"Hunter Raine Barlow to see Xenia Parrish-Abbott," I tell the man.

He looks me up and down contemptuously. Dust falls from the creases in my robes and scarves, making little sand piles at my feet.

"Doctor Parrish-Abbott isn't receiving visitors."

Doctor? A slight frown knits between my eyebrows. The kid said she was an office manager. Hmm ...

"I have her daughter." I flash him my card, keeping my expression neutral.

The guard snatches the card from my hand and retreats into the little building. When he returns a minute later, he's a shade or two paler than before.

"Doctor Parrish-Abbott will be out shortly," he stammers as a man dressed in dirty overalls emerges from the stable yard. "We can take your ..." He looks at Winston, unsure of what to label the big bull elk.

"Battle-elk," Kayleigh supplies helpfully.

"Y-yes."

Before the groom can take Winston, I pull out a small pouch and hurriedly stuff my owl and children's book into it. The pouch hooks onto my belt and hangs there, a comforting weight. "Be good," I tell Winston, patting him solidly on the shoulder.

The battle-elk rolls a liquid brown eye in my direction and nuzzles my cheek. He knows as well as I do to break out of the stable if anything should happen. You'd never suspect an elk of knowing how to slide a deadbolt back with his teeth.

"Erm, and the ...?" the man asks, looking down at Egon.

The enfield sits on the grass near the guardhouse and looks at Kayleigh, who then turns to me for advice. "Go with Winston," I tell the beast.

Egon's crest feathers twitch and he wriggles slightly on the grass. "You won't fit indoors," I tell him.

Shaking his head slightly, the enfield gets up and stands by Winston.

The doors to the Orcus Institute burst open and a woman in a long white lab coat sweeps out onto the sidewalk.

"Kayleigh!" she cries, throwing her arms wide.