But before we could answer, Patience’s nostrils flared. She swung her head back and forth as if sniffing the air. Then she let loose a stream of curses that would have made a sailor’s eyes water. The air grew colder yet, so our breath became vapor, and the woman’s visage rose nearly to the ceiling, her eyes bulging with apparent fury.
I felt Connor shift beside me. Theo’s eyes went wide as moons. Petra looked absolutely enamored.
The ghost glared at us. “I can smell the abomination on you! Who did it? Who let the demon back in?”
SIX
For a good ten seconds, the room went absolutely silent. “Demon?” I asked. “What demon?”
“A demon?” Petra asked. “Are you sure?”
The ghost looked at her. “Of course I’m sure. I’m the Chronicler.” Her nostrils flared again. “And can you not smell the sulfur? The brimstone? Foul and rank and already polluting our world.”
I had to work not to sniff myself.
Her gaze narrowed, and a frigid breeze blew through the room. “The very same stink that marked our city when she spilled chaos around it. Who let it in?”
Every word was an accusation.
“Nobody let it in,” I ventured. “We don’t even know what it is.”
Slowly, Patience’s gaze shifted to the two of us. If I could have turned myself invisible, I would have, just to escape that accusatory stare. “Itis a chaos demon.”
“A chaos demon,” Petra said.
I remember the chaos of that time.That’s what Uncle Malik had said, and my blood chilled.
“Eglantine,” Patience said. “That’s its name.”
“There were ghosts,” I said. “Human and canine, but nothing else. I don’t know what a chaos demon looks like, but we didn’t see one.”
“Hold up,” Petra said. “Let’s start at the beginning.” She waswriting notes on her screen as Patience talked. “There was a demon in Chicago whose name was Eglantine. Variety,” she said as she tapped, “chaos demon.”
“A creature which was drawn to Chicago after the Great Fire,” Patience said, “and fed on the city’s pain and grief and fury. And tried its best to destroy what remained of it.”
“When did it come to Chicago?”
“In 1872,” she said. “What year is it now?” Theo told her, and her eyes widened. “So long since, and the magic did as it ought. It beckoned me to tell the story, as is my duty among the Guardians to do so.”
“We tested the magic,” Petra said. “And it showed a date of 1872.”
Patience nodded. “Eglantine was exiled the same year by the collective efforts of Chicago’s remaining supernaturals. The Guardians,” she added proudly. “Those who swore an eternal oath to drive out the demon and protect the city from its return. I am the Chronicler. It was my role to tell the story of the demon Eglantine and its efforts to destroy Chicago.”
“How did it attempt to do that?” Petra asked.
“It is a chaos demon,” Patience said again. “It’s singular purpose—and the source of its power—is creation of chaos. That’s the reason for its existence, its fuel, its desire. It is a hording demon; we believed it scouted the city to attract others of its ilk. To create more chaos, to feed more fully. To nest in Chicago and turn it into something rotten, wicked, spoilt.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Why do I smell it again? You must have allowed it in or facilitated its entrance. The Guardians’ wards cannot simply break.”
“What wards?” Theo asked.
“The wards built to keep Eglantine from returning and to keep the others out. You don’t think we’d leave the city without protection, do you?”
I had no idea what I was supposed to believe. I was no less confused than I’d been last night. But we were on a different kind of deadline now: Ariel wasn’t going to be able to hold open this connection forever, so we needed information, and we needed it quickly.
“What are the wards?” I asked. “I mean, I understand the concept—they’re barrier or protection spells. But what wards do you mean?”
Patience’s gaze went a little unfocused, and she seemed confused by the question. Which was weird. “I... don’t remember precisely,” she said, and seemed discomfited by that.