home in the hive?”
“Hopefully,” Dana said. “He’d be keeping the Canope somewhere safe. He has to be careful with it. Really, really careful. It’s designed to hold souls. If it breaks, the soul’s gone.”
“It holds souls?” Marion asked, eyes widening. “Or memories?”
“The essence of a person. Whatever you want to call it. If it breaks, whoever’s being kept in there will be pretty much dead.”
Marion’s essence—her memories—had been sold to a demon in Hell.
No wonder she didn’t remember anything at all once she touched Seth. She’d already remembered everything that remained within her mind. Everything else was locked away in the Canope.
Seth took her hand and squeezed it. “We’ll get it back. Don’t worry.”
Was her fear so transparent?
“Yes, thanks,” she murmured.
She edged away from the island while Seth and Dana continued to discuss the map.
Dana wasn’t as much a fan of books as Marion, or even Seth, but she had a few shelves. Most of her collection was trashy science fiction. Old stuff that had been read so much that the spines were illegible from being creased so much.
There was a piece of paper sticking out from between two books. Marion glanced at Dana, who was still distracted, before tugging it free.
It was a photograph of three women at a sunny beach: an adult and two teenagers.
The moon-faced teen on the left with the spiky pink hair was clearly Dana, though she wasn’t quite as fat as she’d grown to become. Less like a tank, more like an armored car. She wore a halter bikini top with board shorts that showed off her powerful thighs and the pleasant rolls of her belly.
The adult woman was someone that Marion had seen in photos of her own: Ariane Kavanagh, who looked like an older, whiter-skinned version of Marion. Ariane was dainty and mischievous around the eyes, as though she were hiding secrets.
The third woman was Marion herself.
She was younger, skinnier, cute rather than beautiful. Her hair was concealed by a headscarf, emphasizing her luminous blue eyes. And the teenage Dana was easily hefting Marion’s lanky figure above her head, like Marion was a barbell, while Ariane watched the two of them. Ariane looked like she was either laughing or horrified.
Marion wore a string bikini, which showed off her abdomen. She had no silvery scar on her ribcage. The photo must have been taken before she started dating Konig.
Together, the three women looked happy.
Like family.
Marion stared at Dana in the flesh, where she stood under the pool of light shining on her kitchen island. The huntress didn’t look like she’d been happy in a long time. Like she might have never once smiled since becoming an adult.
Were they sisters? Marion and this stocky, armored, angry lesbian?
“Gods,” Marion breathed.
“Take the map,” Dana was saying, oblivious to Marion’s exploration. She folded the parchment and handed it to Seth. “Once you get in Sheol, there’ll be a dot that shows your location. Bring it back to me once you’re finished down there.”
Seth picked up the paper, studying it closely. “Loaning your enchanted map to me? That’s showing a lot of trust for one of your dad’s worthless acquaintances.”
“Not that much. It’ll spring back to me if you die.”
“Interesting magic. Very strong, very privileged, unseelie magic.” He directed that toward Marion.
She came up behind him to look over his shoulder. Seth was right. The map was riddled with complex unseelie magic similar to the kind that had connected Oliver Machado to the unseelie. “You’re a triadist,” Marion said. “Aren’t you, Dana?”
“Triadist?” Seth asked.
“They’re a church that thinks the gods aren’t dead and have dedicated their lives to worshipping them.” At Seth’s confused look, Marion explained, “Konig told me about them. He said that the triadists are connected to the previous rulers of the Winter Court.”
Dana folded her arms. “What