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Back Seasons of Chaos Save as PDF
Chapters (70)
  1. Dedication
  2. Prologue
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. 59
  62. 60
  63. 61
  64. 62
  65. Epilogue
  66. Acknowledgments
  67. About the Author
  68. Books by Elle Cosimano
  69. Back Ad
  70. About the Publisher

Whatever Doug has planned, our little field trip will get me outside that door. And that means an opportunity to run. To find Jack and the others before they make it here.

29

The Tree the Tempest

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DOUG

The elevator to the surface is slow. Halfway up, the power flickers and the car lurches.

Fleur grips the railing. Her eyes dart skyward as the lights flash on and off, and the car resumes its climb to the east portal. I didn’t dare take her through the Winter wing, where Lixue just dispatched four teams of Guards to hunt for Jack. Jack may have come down through the Summer portal, but the Winter halls were his stomping ground. Every map in his footlocker was of the catacombs below the north wing—below my office and my apartment. I’m not ready for that confrontation. Not yet. When I face off with Jack, I will have the eye, and I will have Gaia’s magic. Jack may be human, but his friends are not. I won’t underestimate them the way Michael did.

The elevator doors open, and the Guard inside the townhouse leaps to her feet. She dips her head. “Chronos.”

“Where’s my team?”

She gestures to the door. “Already in position.”

Lightning flickers through the windows. The wind howls, branches scraping like nails over the siding. I don’t relish the idea of going out in this weather, but I have no choice. According to Lixue, we’ve lost seventeen Seasons on two more continents, and that number will only climb as the storms spiral out of control.

Fleur recoils as I throw open the door and an icy mist blows in. I shove her out into the night, drawing up my collar against the rain as I direct her by the arm toward Greenwich Park.

“I thought Gaia’s magic protected the weather here,” she says through a shiver, “or did you manage to screw that up, too?”

She’s talking about the magic that insulates this region from the constant passage of Seasons through the portals. If I hadn’t managed to cage Gaia’s magic in that orb, the city would probably be leveled by now.