BooksBarbecue
Back Into the Dying Light Save as PDF
Chapters (72)
  1. Copyright Notice
  2. Dedication
  3. I
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. BEFORE
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. BEFORE
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. BEFORE
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. BEFORE
  25. II
  26. 18
  27. 19
  28. 20
  29. 21
  30. 22
  31. 23
  32. 24
  33. 25
  34. 26
  35. 27
  36. 28
  37. 29
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. 32
  41. III
  42. 33
  43. 34
  44. 35
  45. 36
  46. 37
  47. 38
  48. 39
  49. 40
  50. 41
  51. IV
  52. 42
  53. 43
  54. 44
  55. 45
  56. 46
  57. 47
  58. 48
  59. 49
  60. 50
  61. 51
  62. 52
  63. 53
  64. 54
  65. 55
  66. 56
  67. 57
  68. 58
  69. AFTER
  70. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  71. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  72. Newsletter Sign-up

Khepri’s gaze met Hassan’s, fear and ferocity in her eyes. The blade bit into the underside of her jaw, drawing blood so bright Hassan could see it from twenty paces off. She shook her head. But Hassan was already raising his hands in surrender.

Ahead of him, Jude laid down his sword.

Hector glanced at the two of them, and then back to the Hierophant and his hostages. Blowing out an enraged breath, he let his sword clatter to the ground, too.

Hassan felt someone grab him from behind, yanking his hands behind his back and securing them. One by one, the Witnesses led them out of the courtyard.

13

ANTON

“Are you certain this is the correct place?” the Wanderer asked skeptically as Anton led her to the low, squat building at the end of a dirt path.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Anton replied, irritated. The hollow scrape of Illya’s esha rattled faintly around him. It always set him on edge, but this time at least he was seeking it out. “Why?”

“Because this is a crematorium,” the Wanderer replied.

Anton startled. What was Illya doing in a crematorium?

“Come on,” he said impatiently, crossing the dirt path toward the building.

“Do we knock?” the Wanderer wondered.

He gave her an annoyed look. She’d never broken into anything before.

“If it’s a crematorium, then there’s gotta be a chimney,” he said, circling around the building and climbing atop a stack of crates. He was just barely able to grab the edge of the flat roof, heaving himself up and scrabbling against the sides of the building.

“I’ll just wait out here for you, shall I?” the Wanderer said. “Keep watch.”

“Just go to the door,” Anton replied, still annoyed, and then darted over the roof. Sure enough, there was an opening on the roof just large enough for Anton to slip through. Below he could see a pile of wood, where they burned the bodies. It would cushion his fall, a little.

He dropped down, the woodpile clattering loudly enough that someone was sure to come running. But the building was silent. He waited a moment to be sure and then struggled to his feet and opened the latch on the door.

“It’s empty,” he told the Wanderer as she strode past him.

“Good,” she replied.

“As in, no Illya,” he clarified.

“Not good,” she amended. “Look, there’s a stairwell over here. Maybe some kind of basement?”

Anton searched the room for a lamp but found nothing. They would have to brave the dark.

He led the way down, the Wanderer at his heels. The light grew dimmer the deeper they descended, and Anton felt a chill run down his spine as they were let out into a dark, airless room with a low ceiling. It smelled vaguely of earth, and each side was lined by what looked like wooden cribs.