“Sweet mother of God!” Quen exclaimed as the ache in the line and in my head evaporated. I jumped, startled as the bubble of imbalance suddenly vanished. I felt a pull, and I dug my awareness into the present to keep us from sliding to join it. There was a sliding ping, and then . . . nothing. The event horizon was gone.

“We did it!” I exclaimed, the pure tone of my line singing through me like icing. I was almost dancing. “Quen, we did it!” I shouted again, and Quen let go of my hand, beaming. Before us, the purple sludge was gone from the line. It was humming, in tune with reality—apart from the original imbalance, that is.

The wind from Etude’s wings sent my hair flying as he landed behind us on the upraised half of the garden. “The imbalance is at the small line in the churchyard,” he said, his deep voice rumbling and his ears slanted parallel with the ground to look like a peeved horse. “I can feel it there, but only because I know where to look.”

My elation vanished. We had done it, but it was only half over, and the gargoyles were suffering. They were suffering as I reveled in our accomplishments. “Ku’Sox is going to be pissed.”

“That’s not the half of it,” Ku’Sox’s voice said, and I spun. Behind me, Etude began to hiss, sounding like a train making long, powerful huffs. Quen stiffened, stepping before me.

“Congratulations . . .” the demon drawled, taking in my pale clothes and Quen’s black attire. “Now you’re dead.”

“Down!” I cried, pulling on the clean purity of the line before me.

Ku’Sox’s black spell raced toward us, shedding silver sparkles. The line in my mental grip slipped through my fingers like silk, and I scrambled for it, my mouth gaping. I could do nothing. What in hell?

Quen’s circle saved us, and both of us fell to our knees as Ku’Sox’s spell imploded on its surface, lighting the area in a flash of lightning.

The line! I thought, unable to find it in my light-stunned vision, and then my panic turned to anger. It was Quen. “Quit hogging the line!” I shouted, ignoring Quen’s offered hand as he tried to help me up. Etude had jumped between us and Ku’Sox, stalking back and forth with his wings half open. He looked far more menacing than when Bis did it.

Ku’Sox hesitated, his features pressed as he reassessed everything while I got to my feet. Quen stood staunchly beside me, tall and unbowed and smelling of crushed grass and wine.

“An unbound gargoyle?” Ku’Sox said, the disgust in his voice obvious as he watched Etude. “What do you hope to accomplish there?”