“You are the prophesied one,” Mimir croaked out. “Take this.” The shard of cairn slipped out of her hand and Becka caught it before it fell to the floor.
Had she actually seen the rock pull Mimir in her direction? Surely not, and yet… Becka slipped the stone into her back pocket. It was a mystery for another time.
“You took everything,” Mimir whispered, her breathing growing increasingly ragged. “I can’t heal myself.”
“You deserve to die and I can’t wait for you to get around to it.”
Chapter 30
Mimir’s eyes filled with fear at her imminent demise, but Becka had no empathy for her. She left the now-powerless and fading fae and picked her way across the singed and spottily still-burning floor to Quinn and Hanna. The guards weren’t moving, their bodies both gruesomely contorted and blackened by the magical fire. Based on where they were standing, Becka figured they likely got the worst of the blast’s impact.
At least it had been quick for them. She hoped it would be long and painful for Mimir, whose agonized breaths were progressively growing further and further apart.
Becka pulled the coffee table off Quinn and dropped to her knees beside him. She was grateful that the table had prevented the full blast of the fireball’s backlash, yet his skin was skill blistering and blackened in spots.
“Quinn, are you still with me?”
He grunted. “I’m somewhere. What the hell happened back there?”
She avoided his question for now, not wanting to think too much about the insanity that had just occurred. “Let’s roll you off Hanna,” Becka suggested, trying to find a spot that wasn’t blistering to help him move.
Quinn lifted himself up and moved off of Hanna, coming up onto his side.
“She doesn’t look burned at all,” Becka noted. She placed her hands on his stomach where Mimir had stabbed him, sensing a reflexive flow of magic pour from her hands into his body.
That’s new too. Why aren’t I tired yet after using all of this new magic?
“Since when can you heal?” he asked, his voice sounding like gravel. “Or summon fireballs?”
That ain't the half of it, she wanted to say, but held her tongue. She didn’t know how much Quinn had seen or heard from her fight with Mimir, but knew he'd watched her drink Mimir’s blood back on stage. The realization of what had just transpired in the fight with the fireball hadn’t hit her fully yet, but a growing sense of foreboding was building within her bones.
What else has Mimir’s blood opened up within me?
“If you don’t want it, I can stop,” she offered, suddenly self-conscious.
Quinn placed a hand over hers, concern in his gaze. “I’m grateful, but Hanna needs it more.” She hesitated despite his urging. “I’ve lived through worse before. Besides, if we lose Hanna, House Hawthorne will never let you live it down.”
Becka had been so preoccupied worrying over Quinn, she hadn’t even thought of that. She shifted closer to Hanna, pulling off the blindfold which still obscured her face, and then placing her hands on Hanna’s abdomen. The energy trickled out as if it knew what Hanna needed by instinct. Becka had to trust the magic would understand her intent to aid Hanna and put things to rights, fixing whatever Mimir had broken within her.
She thought back to times she’d watched healers work, and they’d always used such soothing, sympathetic movements. She mimicked the motions she’d witnessed, time and time again, keeping her thoughts on Hanna’s highest good. For Hanna’s sake, Becka was grateful at least basic healing seemed to work on autopilot by her intent alone.
That Mimir had had this ability and instead inflicted so much pain and suffering, renewed her anger at the woman.
“Please, help me,” Mimir cried out. Her body had begun shaking, no doubt from pain.
“Suck it, murderer,” Becka yelled back.
Hanna gasped and then coughed, once again breathing with vigor. Becka pulled back as Hanna opened her eyes.
“Suck what?” Hanna asked her.
“Oh goddess, not you,” Becka said. “How are you feeling?”
Noise picked up from down the hall, and Becka jumped to her feet, wary it might be the acolytes or torturers coming back to check on them. When she heard Caeda’s surly tone echoing, she could have cried with relief.
“In here! Come quick!” Becka hollered.
A moment later a wolf bounded through the still-burning doorway, a low growl rumbling from deep within her chest. “Saige!” Becka would recognize that distinctive face-marking anywhere.
She barked a quick greeting to Becka, sniffed at Quinn and Hanna’s feet, but then her hackles went up when she scented Mimir. The growl returned as Saige stalked over to her, barking and snarling as she got close.
Caeda and Hamish came through the door, and Becka could hear more enforcers behind them.
“We need healers for Quinn and Hanna. They’ve been stabbed, electrocuted and cut,” Becka said, the words flowing out of her in escalating tones. It was as if, now that the danger had passed, the fear she’d been holding at bay had caught up with her and punched her in the gut.
Caeda nodded and called back down the hall. “We need gurneys and medics in here to stabilize two fae.”
Hamish knelt beside Hanna, taking her pulse and checking her for injuries. “Where was she stabbed?”
“The stomach,” Becka said.
He pulled up her bloodied shirt, showing an abdomen with no wounds. “You sure?”
Whoa. Did I do that? “I must have been confused. But Hanna was unconscious for a while. Did you find Lydia?”
“We did,” Caeda confirmed. “She was hanging on by a thread, but she’s already being transported to the hospital.”
Becka drew in a ragged breath. “She looked near death the last time I saw her, but you’re right, she’s indomitable. If anyone can pull through, she can.”
“Lydia’s a powerful spirit. Have faith she’ll pull through.”
Saige’s growling transformed to a plaintive howl, making it impossible to talk for a few moments.
When she quieted, Becka turned back to Hamish. “What’s wrong?”
“It upsets Saige that she didn’t get vengeance for Luce. You took her down, and finishing Mimir off now, in her diminished state, would only bring shame upon Saige.”
Becka empathized with Saige’s pain. “I’m sorry. If it helps, Mimir’s in a lot of pain after being burned half to death by her own magic gone astray. I’d be surprised if she lives through this.”
The gurneys arrived one by one, loading Hanna up first at Quinn’s insistence. Her pallor was already much improved, so Becka hoped she’d recover quickly with real medics and healers attending to her.
The medics approached Mimir next. “Wait, is she dangerous?” the female shifter medic asked.
“I stripped her of powers, and with her injuries, she’s not likely to be able to cause you problems,” Becka replied. “Do you best to save her. She deserves to rot away in jail for the rest of her life.”
They lifted Mimir up, but made no noise as she was lifted onto the gurney. The medics checked her over, placing an oxygen mask over her face, and injecting something into her arm.
“We’ll do our best,” one of the medics responded.
“Becka, a word,” Hanna said, reaching out for her.
Becka moved close and offered Hanna her hand, which she grabbed and held firm. “A lot of the last day or however long it’s been has been blurry to me, but I recognize I was wrong about the Shadow-Dwellers. They exist, and I was also wrong about you. I heard you plead for me against these killers, and I know you fought against Mimir to save us. We’re even now.”
“Thank you, Hanna. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
As they wheeled Hanna off down the hall, Becka refocused her attention on Quinn. After they had loaded him on his own gurney, Becka walked alongside him on the way out of the building, her hand never leaving his arm. Caeda came with them while Hamish stayed behind with Saige.
There were a couple fallen masked bodies in the building, but none in enforcer outfits.
“Did any of our people die?” Becka asked Caeda.
“We had some injuries, but I don’t think anyone was even critical. There were only a couple of Shadow-Dwellers left when we arrived. They fled in every direction. We had the advantage in numbers against those remaining and took a couple of them out. It’s like those blood-thieves scattered like the rats they are at the slightest hint of danger.”
“I’m glad,” Becka replied, but shame rolled over her. In an act of desperation, she’d become one of those blood-drinkers tonight. Although she’d done it to survive and protect her friends, anyone who found out would no doubt judge her. Not to mention, she might face ostracism from the fae.
“We’ll need a statement, but it can wait until you both get checked over at the hospital,” Caeda said.
“I’m fine,” Becka replied.
Caeda arched a brow at her as she gave Becka the once over. “I can see that, and it’s a little perplexing considering the state of the room we found you in.”
“Mimir didn’t hurt me because she didn’t want my power diminished, and she didn’t touch me because she wanted to avoid getting Nulled by me. She hurt those I cared about instead.”
“So why Hanna?” Caeda asked.
“I owe her a debt,” Becka answered.
Caeda nodded. “Not after this. But I’m still confused how Mimir was injured by her own power?”
“She lost her balance on those heels of hers in the shag carpet and fell towards me, and then I could Null her powers.”
“A lucky break. But was that before or after the fireball of doom?”
“In the middle? Sort of?”
“You’ll have to diagram it for me later,” Caeda said. “I just don’t understand how she prevented the fire from harming you when she was hurt by it after you Nulled her?”
Caeda was a little too good of a detective.
“Yeah, that is confusing. I’m sure a diagram or diorama or interpretive dance might help.”
Caeda winked at her. “I’ll take a walk-through.”
When they finally emerged into the night in a dingy alley, Becka breathed deep, desperate to change the conversation. “How did you find us?”
“I hid a tracker in your clothes after the last time you portalled. Unfortunately, it went dark not long after you vanished, but it helped to narrow down the search.”
“You scoundrel!” Becka feigned horror. “But good thinking.”
Becka rode with Quinn to the hospital, finally not worried about the threat of imminent attack from Mimir. They took him straight to a treatment room, and Becka sat in a chair out of the way while the medics and healers worked.
Something dug into her butt in the chair, and Becka pulled the shard of cairn out of her back pocket. She turned it over and over in her hands, but it appeared to be an unremarkable chunk of granite.
One moment she was sitting in the chair, the next she stood in a dark room, a single light ahead of her shining down from on high, illuminating a swath of the floor in dim light. She walked toward it, pausing when she reached the light.
“What is this?”
A deep, rumbling laugh echoed from all around Becka. “Who are you?”
Emboldened, Becka raised her chin. “I’m the current owner of some fancy rock. The prior owner is indisposed. Who are you?”
“I’m the one who gave her that shard.”
Becka felt her heart skip a beat. “Oh.”
“Yes. Oh.”
Becka mentally imagined herself dropping the stone. Letting go of it. Leaving this place. Waking up.
Nothing she tried worked. How long would she be trapped in here?
“You’re here until I’m done talking with you, Becka Rowan.”
She sucked in a quick breath. “Who are you?” She waited in silence a moment. “What are you?”
“I am the Shadow Maker,” his voice intoned, the gravity implying she should know what that meant.
“You’re the Shadow Maker, so that implies you made all the Shadow-Dwellers?”
“I have made some, and they have made more. We are legion.”
“Cool. You used this rock to communicate with your faithful minion, Mimir?”
“It is yours now.”
Becka tilted her head to the side. “But I am not yours, Shadow Maker.”
A figure stepped into the light before her. Tall and statuesque, even for a fae. His presence was fearsome. Ethereally dazzling, for a moment she had to look away from the intensity of his visage.
“You have tasted the blood. You have taken the powers. I feel them rising within you with each passing moment. You are Shadow-Dweller. You are mine.”
Becka forced herself to turn her gaze back to him. She knew what he was, even though her mind refused to believe it.
“You’re an Ancient! An actual, true fae.”
His response was a predatory grimace she thought he intended as a warm confirmation, but it struck fear in her heart. Surely not all Ancients were this terrifying? Humans had adored them. Worshipped them. Then the Ancients had bestowed their gifts on humankind in the form of half-fae, half-human children.
Thus a new race had been born. So they had taught her.
“All fae left Earth hundreds of years ago.”
“Who taught you that?”
“History books…” Becka began, but she couldn’t finish the sentence. All she could think about were those missing pages in the Great War tome. “Why are you still here? All the fae are gone.”
“There is still work to be done. I welcome you, Becka Rowan, to my flock. I have waited for you, and your gift, for some time.”
“I’m not yours,” she insisted.
“You are fae-touched. You drank the blood. You’re mine. You can live with acceptance of your role in fate, or you can fight it. It matters not to me. You are the child of prophecy, Becka. We cannot deny it.”
The darkness faded, replaced by a bright light flashing in her eyes.
“Becka? Can you hear me?” A medic stood in front of her. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, sorry,” she replied. A wave of revulsion passed over her, and she tucked the rock back into her back pocket. “I must have drifted off.”
“Okay, you were pretty out of it there, but after what you’ve been through, I bet you’re tired. Your partner Quinn is ready to be discharged. If you can just walk through these checks with me, we can discharge you and send you home.”
Becka nodded and went through the motions with the medic, fearing that her respite from being pursued by Mimir had just been replaced with another, much more formidable, threat.
Chapter 31
Becka punched and beat on the pillow like her life depended upon it. When it had reached what looked like maximum capacity, she held it out to Lydia for closer inspection.
She just shook her head. “Pillow fluffing is not an exact science, Becka.”
Lydia had only been back home since yesterday after spending three intensive days with healers. Remembering her medical summary of a ruptured spleen from the electricity shocks and sepsis from those nasty blades, not to mention seeing her body covered with bruises, Becka shuddered.
Her aunt had slept throughout yesterday and awoken today wanting to catch up on the shows she’d missed, so everyone had pitched in. Caeda had shown up with bags of snacks, Saige had made caramel corn. Hamish had rearranged the living room furniture for maximum lounging. Becka had ordered in some of Lydia’s favorite Thai food. Quinn had whipped up a batch of Lydia’s favorite mulled wine in the crock pot.
The domesticity binge was just what everyone needed to unwind.
“But this looks better, right?”
“I’ll allow it,” Lydia replied.
Saige, who was sitting on the other couch between Caeda and Hamish, laugh-snorted through a mouthful of popcorn.
“Can you wrap up this pillow saga so we can get back to our Chop
ped-Up Kitchen marathon?” Hamish asked.
Lydia looked up at Quinn. “An assist, kind warrior?”
Quinn reached out and took her hands, giving Lydia leverage to pull herself forward in the recliner with just a smidgen of Quinn’s extra muscle to help. Becka added the re-fluffed pillow to the stack behind Lydia, aligning it with precision, and then nodded to Quinn, who slowly moved Lydia back onto the fuller stack.
“Oh, this is paradise, truly. Thank you two,” Lydia said, picking up her mug of mulled wine from a conveniently placed side table.
Seeing her smiling and relaxed, feet up in the recliner, and with a drink in her hand, Becka’s eyes welled up with tears. She turned away, hoping no one saw.
She couldn’t escape Quinn’s keen eye. He sidled up next to her, giving her a quick but deliberate kiss on her temple. “Shall we,” he motioned to the couch. She nodded.
“I didn’t know you even liked the show?” Becka asked Hamish as she curled up next to Quinn on their couch.
His face screwed up with a confused frown. “There’s food involved.” When everyone laughed, he shook his head. “What can I say, it’s grown on me.”
Saige raised the remote to restart the show just as the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it.” Caeda jumped up and answered the door, ushering in a smiling Chief Elowen Oak.
Becka’s spirits fell at Elowen’s arrival. They’d only spoken briefly since Becka’s showdown with Mimir, and she’d feared their next conversation. Was Elowen here to renew Quinn’s order to return Becka back to House Rowan?
Elowen walked to the living room, but remained at the threshold. “Looks like I’m interrupting a critical household gathering?”
“This is a work-free zone, Elowen,” Lydia replied. “But you’re welcome to join us in our revelry.”
“I won’t intrude on such a sacred ritual, and I intend to keep things brief, so you can continue snacking on… just how many boxes of chocolate cream cookies do you have over there?”
“This is also a judgement-free zone,” Lydia said. “And it’s an adequate amount, to be sure.”
“As you say,” Elowen replied. “My apologies. I wanted to check in on everyone. Make sure the healing is progressing as expected? I trust you continue to improve?” she asked Lydia.
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