by E Hall
I shudder a breath. “What did you do?”
He tilts his head side to side. “I just helped you along. Your magic is untested, untamed. It was easy to draw it to the surface. Of course, you were defending yourself, but I made sure the power surrounding you was strong enough to ensure that you dealt the deathblow.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Why?”
“Because Amanda had something I wanted. Something I’d been searching for.”
“The cloak,” I say.
“Ding, ding, ding. You win the prize this round.”
“I don’t want to play your games or win any prize from you.”
He stabs the air with his finger. “Ah, but you are the prize.”
I shake my head, not understanding. “Melchior selected our grandmother, Isa as consort, the highest honor a fae can receive. She ran away, fell in love. Had she not, we wouldn’t be here. Be that as it may, you’re here to pay her debt.”
As the words breach his lips, my heart sinks. This time not in flame but like it’s filling with water, drowning in fear.
Corbin starts to move. Clove fires off more magic nearly freezing him, but Corbin jerks out of the way.
“You killed Tatiana too,” Corbin growls.
“You said you were friends.”
“We were friends, yes. She taught me many useful things, including creating Runes of Power. It turned out that she had the red cloak. Unfortunately, Amanda and I went after it at the same time.”
Corbin’s eyes flash with recognition.
“I couldn’t very well let Amanda have it after the years I’d spent in search of it. But I missed my mark, and Tatiana took the fall.” He tsks.
“No, stop, Clove. Whatever you have planned, surely we can figure something out.”
“We’re well past negotiations.” He wrinkles his nose in distaste. “They tend to be long, drawn out. No, the fae king has something I want. I’m using you to get it. Plain and simple.”
I recall my father and me discussing the magical items—the diary, cloak, and scepter.
“The scepter,” I whisper.
Clove smiles. “Can’t get anything past you, can I, sis?” He laughs darkly.
I prickle at his use of the term of endearment.
What I think is the male goblin comes near, ready to whack Corbin and me both with a wooden block. His needle-like teeth pierce his leer and slime oozes from his mouth.
A female goblin hovers above and slurps a strand of slime back into her mouth as she twiddles her fingers.
“What should we do with them, sir?” the male gurgles.
The female strokes my cheek.
I flinch, trying to get away from her cold, dead, fishlike grasp. “Get away from me.”
She kicks me in the side, and I roll onto my back like a stranded beetle. Through the window, the sun starts to set.
“Take them to the woods. It’s time to meet the fae king.”
Corbin scowls. “You’re a lying, backstabbing, piece of—”
“No, wolf. You have me all wrong. I’m making things right.”
“If this is what you call right then—”
“As I said, you weren’t supposed to be involved.”
“Clove, this isn’t how it has to be,” I say.
He shakes his head and counters, “But it does.”
Chapter 22
Corbin
The goblins knock Kenna out after she struggles and then hauls us toward the woods. I cooperated but only because one of us needs to remain conscious, and I’m calling on the entirety of my power to break these restraints.
My wolf is desperate to shift, but the bonds hold fast with a rune to prevent the use of my power.
They toss us on the ground in a clearing. I blink my surroundings into focus. The lavender velvet of dusk filters through the nearly bare branches of the woods.
Kenna’s breath is shallow. My gut wrenches at the thought of her being hurt and me being helpless. Once more, I summon my Alpha, but we can’t get past these bonds or call upon the betas.
I glance at her wrists and ankles, also tied up. She overpowered the Runes of Closure in the shed, perhaps she can do the same now.
Clove paces nearby and his fingers jitter against his leg. I sense a hint of fear emanating from him. I suppose it’s not every day he makes a bargain with the fae king.
Melchior will know that I wasn’t really intending to bring Kenna to him. But he will be pleased finally to have her in custody. I imagine he told Clove she could pay Isa’s debt as a ploy. He’ll want to destroy her, following the Articles of Accord.
I cannot let that happen.
“You want the scepter in exchange for Kenna?” I prop myself up on the ground. “What makes you think the fae king will hand it over to you?” I ask, knowing it’s a fake.
“If you haven’t noticed, I take what I want.”
“Killing Tatiana wasn’t necessary.”
“It was an accident.”
“Compelling Kenna to kill Amanda was cruel.”
“I could easily argue that not doing your Alpha duties and protecting your pack from Amanda was cruel,” Clove counters. “Then again, I did catch you unaware and froze you in place so you wouldn’t be a nuisance and try to stop things.”
I recall feeling suddenly frozen that night, stopped in my tracks. The truth in his comment is like a blow to the chest. I want to argue, but he isn’t wrong. I should’ve contained Amanda. I should be out there stopping the werewolf.
I ask, “Why are you doing this? I thought you said you were going to finish what your father started. Are you leading the Klave?”
Clove laughs. “You really have no idea. I’m giving the fae king exactly what he wants, and I will get exactly what I want.” His voice is brittle like it’s been stripped of something like vigor or potency.
I know all too well that wanting something that you can’t have is draining.
My empathy stops there. “And then what? Do you plan on ruling the realm, controlling magicals, and using humans to your own ends?” I almost don’t want to hear what he has to say.
His answer is silence.
A gale blows through the woods.
My wolf hackles lift. I ache for the shift, to attack, to put an end to this.
“Kenna, wake up,” I whisper. “If we make it through this, I’ll explain, I’ll apologize, I’ll do anything to see that ring back on your finger.”
Beside me, Kenna rouses. Her eyes widen at our new surroundings. The sun dips lower in the sky. Like a swelling wave, something within her surges. The metallic tang of vampire power fills the air. Her wolf scent is faint and the fae energy quiet.
In one bold move, she bursts to her feet. “We will make it.” Her shout is robust, clear, powerful.
She throws the bonds from her wrists and tears them from mine.
My wolf takes over, and in less time than it takes for Kenna to cross the clearing to reach Clove, I’m on all fours.
She surges and dark, hungry energy surrounds her. Sharp teeth appear in her mouth, and her eyes go from stormy gray to black, veined with red.
“The fae king will be well pleased. Seems like your power is officially synthesized.”
Kenna closes the space between them as she launches herself at her brother.
Fae magic slides from his palms.
Kenna must instinctually use a vampire shield, blocking it and sending the trails of blinding light ricocheting toward the woods.
As I blink my surroundings back into focus, Clove sails through the air, smashing against an oak tree with a thwack. At the same time, he casts another blast of fae magic, temporarily freezing Kenna. Her vampire shield must’ve been a onetime deal. At least for now. She’ll have to learn how fully to use her powers so she can call upon them at will.
I bound toward Clove, closing my jaw around his neck and shaking him.
A heavy gust of wind rattles the branches overhead, chilling the air.
Clove’s l
ips curl into an uncertain smile. “If I’m not mistaken Melchior is coming.”
Trumpeting echoes through the woods, and then the fae king rides into the clearing in his chariot led by giant bullfrogs. I scent autumn leaves and impending loss in the air. It’s nearly the equinox.
Distracted by the sight, Kenna elbows Clove hard and drops him to his knees before clasping his hands behind his back in a solid hold.
Despite my desperate desire to stop this craziness, I’m not sure how other than by sheer force, biting and tearing and destroying.
I shift back into physical form at the fae king’s arrival. Maybe it’s not too late for negotiations.
Holding the iron-tipped scepter, Melchior exits his chariot along with two female fae. The one on his right flank looks ragged with dark, lank hair hanging around her face. Her lips form a thin line. The only thing remotely fae about her is her long eyelashes and the faint swirls marking her arms. The one on his left tosses her sandy-colored hair and glares at Kenna with shining, emerald eyes. Then she turns her attention to me.
She pads softly closer, licking her lips then the hum of an eerily enchanting song begins. It’s much like the one Kenna sang to me earlier. I try to keep my focus on my surroundings, keep my head above water.
“Kenna, how delightful to meet you finally,” Melchior says over the tune. “Your mate, Corbin, hasn’t properly introduced us. I started to think he was hiding you from me.” His tone is cunning.
She glares in reply.
“Meet Jana, dear sister of Isa. And this is Visalia,” Melchior says, gesturing to the fae with the stringy hair.
“Visalia?” I ask. “You were Logan’s mate.” She must’ve used glamour to conceal her true appearance.
She trembles with a cold laugh then grimaces at me with pure hatred. “I learned your weaknesses, Corbin. Amanda proved useful. And my taste for revenge is still strong.”
Melchior smiles thinly. “Ah, Visalia, there’s nothing worse than losing a mate, even for a werewolf.”
“You were a werewolf then?” I ask, shocked.
“Logan helped me resist the curse. He tried to cure me. We almost had it figured out. When you killed your so-called best friend, there was nothing left for me.”
“And you’ve been hunting our lands on the full moon.”
She exhales a shrug. “My nature cannot be helped.”
“Tell your fae to stop singing,” I order.
Wolves can resist the alluring tune, but our physical form is close enough to being human that it’s harder to do. Melchior knows full well that I’ll shift if she doesn’t shut up.
Historically, wolves were deadly enemies of fae. The Accords helped tame the wild inside, but if the spell is lifting, I can’t promise that I won’t attack.
The fae that was singing goes quiet as if by a silent command from her king. Instead, she says, “Kenna, you look so much like her.”
“The resemblance is uncanny,” Melchior says. “You belong with us, fair maiden Kenna.”
Vampire power radiates off Kenna. She’s not listening with fae or wolf ears. She bares her teeth.
“Clove thought it would be best that you return to us and just in time. I see the Accords don’t work to control your inner vampire. But you don’t need blood and vampires vices. We can teach you the ways of the fae. Help you understand the full extent of your power.” He steps closer to her, undaunted by her desire to bite.
“Back off,” she snarls.
My wolf growls. I’m on the edge of shifting. I envision myself tearing the fae king’s head off. But curiosity pricks me too. Is he implying he’d let her live among the fae rather than destroy her in agreement with the Articles of Accord?
As the last of the sun dips away, the scepter flashes.
Clove steps forward and magic drips from his fingers as he extends his hand. “I brought you her. Now, in exchange—”
A terrible smell of decay and rot fills the forest as the milky light of the moon emerges from behind the clouds.
Visalia’s eyes turn wild, pained as she contorts, screams, and then shifts into a werewolf.
At the same time, Greyson appears with a second scepter in his hand. Its sharp prongs aim at the cursed wolf. Greyson’s eyes are as frigid as the air. His silver-white spectral appearance doesn’t look like it could blow away in the wind. Rather, he appears formidable. King-like.
The werewolf, undaunted, doesn’t flinch.
“I think we’ve met. I’m Greyson Slade, and I’d like to put you out of your misery.” He strikes the wolf with the scepter.
The ground shakes and the wind blows.
She howls and then drops back.
For a moment, it’s like the forest holds its breath. All is still. All is silent.
Without my betas here, I don’t even think I could stand up to a centuries-old werewolf.
“Melchior, we meet at least.” Greyson’s voice bellows, despite his ethereal form.
The fae king snorts. “I’ve been looking forward to this moment. I see you traded your life for that of a hollow ghost.” Without hesitating, he shoots a blast of fae magic from his fingers. Where I expect it to move through Greyson, it crackles up and down his body like a live wire.
He shakes and then pressing the prongs of the scepter to his skin, he draws it out and then fires it back at Melchior.
The fae king lunges out of the way at the same time as the werewolf leaps at me, knocking me into the ground.
Chapter 23
Kenna
“Leave him alone,” I call. My voice sounds as big as the sky and as dark as the night.
Locked in battle, I charge at the werewolf and at my wolf, Corbin. The dry leaves toss and the air churns. I didn’t summon the vampire, but it took over within me.
I surge with strength and power as I thrust the werewolf off Corbin, throwing her into a tree. Like with Clove before, she strikes it with a sickening crack.
My father closes in on Melchior as he blocks the fae king’s magic with the scepter. The female fae with green eyes remains in the chariot, watching with an amused smile on her lips. She must be unseelie.
Corbin gets to his paws and steps beside me, lowering his head at a menacing angle. He snarls as Clove throws a bolt of magic in the direction of our father and the fae king. It illuminates Melchior’s bearded face, revealing a sinister expression. I can’t help but feel like we’re all pawns in a game he’s playing—Clove included.
“I see you have something that belongs to me,” Melchior says to Greyson.
“What? This?” He tosses the scepter from hand to hand, taunting the fae king.
“What do you propose we do, Greyson?”
“Release Kenna and the others, and you and I can figure it out,” my dad says.
That ticks my vampire off. “Release us?” I say, striding forward. “I’m not anyone’s to barter.” Corbin receives my darkest look.
“Oh, but you are. I’m a Council member. I hold the threads to your fate.” Melchior laughs darkly.
A blood curdling cackle rushes out of me. Must be the vamp influence. On instinct, I thrust my fists at the fae king, shoving him back. He staggers, taken off guard.
I stride forward, closing the space between us.
He smooths his shining robe. “You will pay for that with your life.” A blast of cloudy magic rocks from Melchior’s hands.
Greyson angles the scepter in front of me at the same time I attempt to block it with what feels like a shield.
At my back, the werewolf rouses. Corbin attacks.
The night fills with the electric sounds of fae magic coming from Clove and Melchior and a deep cracking as it rebounds off the scepter my father wields. I wonder where he found it. I’m not looking for answers. They’ll have to come later. Power and anger consume me.
Scuffling and growls mix with the wind whipping through the trees, causing branches to scratch and night birds to hoot.
To my father, Melchior says, “I’ll restore your life i
f you give me the scepter.”
“I care not for my life, but the future of the magical world.”
“Then what will you consider?”
“You know very well, Councilman,” Greyson grinds out.
Melchior tilts his head as though considering the demand. The surrounding air stills. “Inspired, but no. That won’t work.”
Clove steps forward, giving our father a careful sidelong glance. “Melchior, you made me a promise if I brought you Magical’s Most Wanted.”
“Didn’t your mother teach you that fae are tricky?” Melchior glances at the woman in the chariot.
She must be Jana.
Clove glowers. My expression matches my brother’s, only it’s aimed at him. I cannot believe he betrayed me too.
Melchior folds his hands together. “I suppose a happy family reunion will not be on order today. What a shame. Visalia, finish the wolf. Jana, do something about your pest of a son.” He turns to Greyson and me. “I don’t have the time or interest in negotiations.” His voice is like thunder.
Watching his every move, my father angles the scepter at Melchior. The king’s eyes are obsidian and the air surrounding him is thick.
He reaches for the scepter, but Greyson shoves it forward, piercing him. His face flashes with surprise. Iron tips the scepter. When his drop of blood falls to the forest floor, my hunger flares. It consumes me. I’ve never wanted something so much in my life.
The wolf and fae have receded within. My vamp nature has taken over. The thirst for blood blankets my mind, pulling my attention toward him. Whereas it once made me queasy, now an unnatural longing fills me.
The wind Melchior controls threatens to knock me off my feet, but I continue to advance on him. I am not a hunter seizing my prey or a puppet master pulling the strings or a game player manipulating my pawns.
I lock on my target. The king is mine.
The vague awareness of Corbin and the werewolf fighting nearby and my father and Clove, along with Jana struggling over the scepter fades.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” Pieces of Melchior’s voice drift toward me over the wind. “You seek answers, the truth, and I can give them to you. I can give you the realm, Kenna.”