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Back Harrow the Ninth Save as PDF
Chapters (70)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. DRAMATIS PERSONAE
  5. Prologue
  6. PARODOS
  7. ACT ONE
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. ACT TWO
  20. 12
  21. 13
  22. 14
  23. 15
  24. 16
  25. 17
  26. 18
  27. 19
  28. 20
  29. 21
  30. 22
  31. ACT THREE
  32. 23
  33. 24
  34. 25
  35. 26
  36. 27
  37. 28
  38. 29
  39. 30
  40. 31
  41. ACT FOUR
  42. 32
  43. 33
  44. 34
  45. 35
  46. 36
  47. 37
  48. 38
  49. 39
  50. EPIPARODOS
  51. ACT FIVE
  52. 40
  53. 41
  54. 42
  55. 43
  56. 44
  57. 45
  58. 46
  59. 47
  60. 48
  61. 49
  62. 50
  63. 51
  64. 52
  65. 53
  66. EPILOGUE
  67. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  68. The Locked Tomb Trilogy
  69. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  70. Newsletter Sign-up

The dead Lyctor did something with that heavy gun again—she angled it open with a click, and more thin streams of smoke emerged from the other end of the barrels. She wore a bandolier of bullets, and she palmed one and slid it in the barrel and pulled the body of the gun back over it. She was incredibly quick, and I didn’t quite follow her. Mercymorn was still juddering and crying out—it didn’t seem like she was actually dying, but she was frothing at the mouth like a rabid animal.

Cytherea looked at me with that dead-eyed, stony expression; and then, very slowly, she pointed the nose of the gun down.

I didn’t know what to say—Thank you? Is this like round five now? I didn’t have to say anything, because her mouth opened, and the voice was Cytherea’s but the gravelly, hard-as-nails tone wasn’t. “Goodbye,” she said.

And Cytherea’s body turned around and, gun raised, slowly stomped back out into the corridor; walking heavily and painfully, like it hurt. I was too amazed to do anything. I stared at that thin back—those pronounced, painful shoulder blades, the fine bumps of the spine.

Sorry. Maybe I should’ve gone for her. Like, I can imagine what you’d say. All I can say is that it was complicated back in Canaan House, and sometimes a cute older girl shows you a lot of attention, because she’s bored or whatever, and you sort of have this maybe-flirting maybe-not thing going on, right, and then it turns out she’s an ancient warrior who’s killed all your friends and she’s coming for you, and then you both die and she turns up ages later in the broiling heat on a sacred space station and like, it’s complicated. Just saying that it happens all the time.

All I could do was stand there, sword raised, as the Lyctor thrashed mindlessly on the floor next to us, and say: “What the fuck is going on?”

47

THEY PLACED THE CANDLES in a ring around the Sleeper’s coffin. Abigail was busying herself with an immense chalk diagram, which took some time because she had to put her red, numbed fingers back in her glove every few minutes, or have her hands warmed between her husband’s. Harrowhark drew wards at the apex of each candle, as instructed, squatting beside the smiling, no-longer-intubated face of Dulcie Septimus.