by S A McClure
“I will save you. I will.”
Her words came in waves as she continued to tug on the ribbon of light. She could feel it weakening, tearing at the seams. Black feathers began falling all around her like snow. They piled at her feet. She kicked at them but did not release her hold on the ribbon.
He screamed. His voice was so full of agony that she felt her fingers slip as she peered around the darkness in search of his face. He wasn’t there. The feathers, his cries of pain, they were all part of the spell’s defense mechanism.
The pile of feathers grew so high that they reached her chest. Her breathing became labored as she continued to grip the ribbon with both hands. She knew that if something didn’t change—if she couldn’t break the spell soon—she would be completely covered by the feathers. She didn’t want to consider what the outcome would be if that happened.
She yelled as she wrenched the ribbon free. For a moment, she thought she would fall backwards as the ribbon went taunt. Her shoulders pulled away from her back, sending pain shooting through her arms. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Spellbreaker!” she screamed. “I am a spellbreaker!”
The ribbon snapped, sending her flying backwards. She shot through the memories again and the obsidian wall and the darkness beyond. She fell through what felt like an eternity. There was no beginning or end. There was only her. There was only darkness.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Iris
A blistering cold wind whipped across Iris’s body. She shuddered, and she couldn’t make herself stop.
If she was cold, then she was still alive.
Something warm moved beside her. Skin upon skin.
Her eyes flew open.
And there Liam was, naked and face-down in the snow. His back was crisscrossed with so many scars she couldn’t follow their paths across his flesh.
But he was no longer a raven. He was there. He was human.
Was he alive?
His shoulder shook as he propped himself up off the ground to look at her. The pupils in his eyes were so large, they almost consumed the silver-blue radiance of his irises. He shifted his body so that his face was mere inches from hers. He leaned his forehead against hers, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
They were alive. And they were awake. And they were both human.
A shadow fell over them along with an icy breeze. Iris shifted her gaze upwards. Grandmother stood there. Her golden eyes blazed with contempt.
“You have been a very naughty little witch,” she hissed.
She bent down so quickly that Iris didn’t have time to react. Her talon-like nails dug into the soft spots of Iris’s neck, drawing warm blood. She couldn’t move her arms or her legs, but she could hear the cracking of her bones as Grandmother lifted her from the ground.
For a frail, old hag, she certainly had more strength than anyone was entitled to. Iris spat at her as the witch leaned in close.
She didn’t even react as the glob of spit ran down her cheek and dripped from her chin. She only pressed her forehead against Iris’s, meeting her gaze. Iris closed her eyes, if only to break the mental connection between them.
Grandmother chuckled. “You broke our accord.”
Iris attempted to shake her head, but couldn’t move.
“No,” she managed to croak out.
“No?” Grandmother scoffed. “Honestly, Iris, what do you take me for? I gave you one request: discover who is trying to kill me and I would save your sister. You broke that agreement.”
“I didn’t.”
Grandmother dropped her back into the snow. She heard the loud snap of her body slamming into rock, but didn’t feel the pain. The realization stoked the fear that had been growing in her ever since the banshee impaled her with its claw. If she couldn’t move, she couldn’t save Emma. If she couldn’t save Emma…she didn’t even want to consider the consequences of that.
Grandmother’s gaze shifted to Liam. “Stand up, boy, and face me.”
Iris’s face was turned towards Liam. She watched in horror as he stood on shaky legs. His large, muscular frame towered over Grandmother. Even still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that if they were to fight, Liam would lose. She struggled to move, but nothing responded.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. She’d come too far. She’d come so close. She couldn’t let it all be for nothing.
“Liam,” she rasped.
He didn’t even glance at her.
“Liam, please,” she said again, louder. “Please look at me.”
Grandmother cupped his cheek. He closed his eyes. She pressed her head against his chest. He stood stock-still for a moment before wrapping his arms around her.
“Liam?” Iris whispered. An iron band wound its way around her heart as she watched his face soften at the witch’s touch. It was supposed to be her. He was supposed to love her.
Grandmother snapped her fingers and clothes materialized from out of nowhere. They were like the ones he’d worn the day he’d been cursed: all leather and fur. Everything was there. A sword with a tiger’s face on the pummel hung at his hip. A fur cloak made from snow tigers covered his shoulders. His linen shirt had a deep V in it that accentuated his toned body.
“Liam?” Iris pled.
He didn’t even look at her as he took Grandmother’s hand.
“No,” she repeated the word over and over again. She couldn’t make sense of it. How did Grandmother know him? Why had she told Iris to stop searching for a way to save him? Why was she doing this now?
“I know who is trying to kill you.” It was the only thing she could think of that would stop Grandmother from leaving her in the snow to die. “Let me prove it to you.”
Grandmother glared down at her.
“I saw the coven mark. I could draw it for you. I could help you track them down.”
Grandmother’s brow furrowed.
“Please, Grandmother, don’t leave me here to die.”
Grandmother shrugged. “Describe the coven mark and I’ll consider your request.”
“Heal me first and I’ll tell you everything I know.”
“No.”
“No?” Disbelief swelled within her. Wasn’t this what Grandmother had wanted? “They won’t stop coming after you until you’re dead.”
“They can try.”
Grandmother looped her arm through Liam’s. Although he was smiling, his expression was vacant. He laid his hand atop Grandmother’s and stroked her skin with him thumb. Iris glared at the sign of endearment. That was supposed to be her.
She continued to lie limply in the snow. She was running out of time. She had no choice but to give in.
“Does a silver skull mean anything to you?”
Grandmother ripped away from Liam and crouched down before Iris so quickly that Iris didn’t see her move. She cupped Iris’s cheek, pulling her upwards. She felt the strain of her neck muscles pulling against the rest of her body.
“What did you just say?” she hissed.
There was no point in negotiating. Grandmother had all the power in this situation. Not her. She wondered if she had ever really had any power.
“The matara of the coven bore the mark of a silver skull.”
Grandmother’s grip slipped to her throat, cutting off her airway. Her eyes bulged. She couldn’t struggle against the hold. She gasped for breath, her eyes darting wildly over Grandmother’s face.
Grandmother dropped her hand from Iris’s neck. Her head fell backwards. Cold, slushy water rolled down her face as she sank into the snow.
Grandmother whispered something in Liam’s ear that left a sly smile on his face. He kissed Grandmother on the cheek. Yet still, he did not so much as even glance in Iris’s direction. Her heart sank. She’d done all this for nothing. She hadn’t even saved her sister. She was a failure.
Liam and the old hag turned to leave. Golden smoke billowed around their forms, encasing them in a glittering fog. Their forms slowly dissolved until only their
faces were left.
“Don’t worry, dear,” Grandmother said. “The effects of the Banshee’s poison will wear off soon enough. I trust you won’t freeze to death before that happens.”
Before Iris had a chance to respond, Grandmother’s face dissolved into a plume of smoke. It spiraled upwards, leaving a stream of burnt yellow in her wake.
Iris bit her lip to keep herself from crying. She didn’t know how she could have been so stupid. She thought he loved her. She believed him when he told her that he did. He’d been lying the entire time.
Once again, she had played the pawn in Grandmother’s schemes. And, it had nearly cost her everything.
Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. Maybe the silver skull witch—whoever she was—had been correct. She was a plague. She could see how everything was connected—how the web of magic binding spells to their target worked. She could break those bonds, strip away every fiber of magic used to shackle a person to the spell.
She just wished she could do the same for the manacles love placed on her own heart. She lay there, barely feeling the cold anywhere but on her face. Dark thoughts crept along the ridges of her mind.
She was a spellbreaker. She was a dreamwalker. She was a witch. She was failure. She was an aberration.
And, she deserved the death the silver skull coven so desperately desired of her.
A series of howls woke Iris from a fitful sleep. They faded into the dreamworld like stars in the night sky at sunrise. She didn’t know how long she’d been laying in there. Her face stuck to the collar of her tunic where the tears had frozen. A dull pain centered at the base of her head where Grandmother had lifted her by the neck. She rubbed at the spot, massaging away the dull ache.
The realization that she could move again hit her the same moment she realized she wasn’t alone.
“Stupid, meddling girl,” a male voice huffed from above her.
Iris sat up, her body squealing in pain. She could see the frost on her eyelashes as she squinted at the dwarf pacing a few feet away.
“Balkeen?”
Her throat prickled with the word. Her lips, already dry and cracked, began to bleed. She licked at the blood. It was the only warm thing about her. Even her breath felt cold.
He shuffled towards her, his eyes wild.
“You broke the spell to release him, didn’t you?” he demanded. Spit flew from his lips, spraying her in the face. She leaned away from him. “You stupid, meddling witch!”
He slapped her. The sting of the impact sent her head slamming backwards into a large rock. Red and white circles filled her vision. Stunned, she lay there for what felt like an eternity. As if her head were underwater, she could hear Balkeen continue to mutter about spells that should never be broken.
But, no one deserved to have their lives stolen from them. No one deserved to be imprisoned in the body of an animal, forced to do the bidding of a cowardly little dwarf. The murkiness faded away.
“You know what your problem is, Balkeen?”
He paused for a moment. His dark gaze bore into her. His hand twitched, as if he were waiting for the right moment to strike her again.
“You have the same problem Grandmother does.”
She sat up. Her head swam, her stomach following suit. Bile rose up the back of her throat and she thought, for a terrible second, that she would vomit all over the dwarf. Somehow, she managed to keep it down.
“You both always underestimate those you think are beneath you.”
She kicked her feet out, landing them solidly in the middle of his chest. He flew backwards, landing and then sliding across the icy river.
She pushed to standing. “You don’t have the right to turn people into your playthings. You don’t get to own them, anymore, Balkeen.”
She strode towards him. Her bones groaned against the weight of her own body with each step she took. She was dizzy and all she wanted to do was sleep just a little bit more, but she couldn’t. Emma was still out here. She didn’t know if her sister was still alive or not, but she couldn’t stop trying to save her. She couldn’t let Balkeen continue to control the humans he’d imprisoned in animal form, either.
He whimpered. His face was pale and smeared with mud, mucus, and other grime. She almost felt pity for him.
Almost.
“Why did you do it?” she asked. She bent down until she was eye-level with him. “Why did you curse all those people? You stole their lives away from them. Why?”
Blood coated his teeth when he smiled up at her. “They asked me to perform a service, so I did.”
She shook her head at him and snorted. “That’s not a good enough reason.”
She knew what she needed to do if she were going to save the rest of the people he’d cursed. She would never be strong enough to break through all of the barriers he’d left to ensure his spells could never be dispelled. But she’d also sensed that there was another way.
She’d seen it even before she knew what she was.
Spellbreaker.
The image of the girl in the cage pushed to the forefront of her mind. She’d been so frail. Hunger had left her gaunt. Despair had left her shivering in the corner. All of their curses had been broken by Balkeen’s death.
She stared down at him. “Release them from their spells.”
She had never been a killer. Her sister was the one who hunted for their family and ensured that they were well-fed, even throughout the winter. It was Emma who had learned to set aside her empathy for other creatures in order to do what needed to be done.
Iris never had learned that skill.
Balkeen squirmed beneath her gaze. “I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
She stood to her full height and placed her hands on her hips. Now was not the time for idle threats.
“Release them or I will.”
He laughed at her. It was high-pitched and tinny. She backhanded him. Her whole arm ached from the force of the impact. The sound of his whimpers turned into pleas.
“You can’t release them. You almost died breaking the spell I put on Liam Forseeth. What makes you think you’ll be able to save them all before you expire?”
Iris met his gaze. “I know there’s another way to save them now.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I will.”
He blinked up at her. She knew her lips were trembling, so she bit her bottom one to hide her anxiety. Silently, she begged him to accept her offer. All he had to do was release them. She cast her mind out to the ribbons of light she knew to be the spells connected to him. They glowed a fiery array of colors in the darkest of night.
He scrambled away from her, kicking at her legs as he went. She stalked after him.
She didn’t have a weapon. She didn’t have any magical abilities that would help her take his life. All she had was the ice beneath her feet and the rocks emerging from the frozen river.
Sweat beaded on her brow as she approached him. He struggled to stay ahead of her. In no time, she had reached him. Gripping him behind the neck, she turned him towards her.
“I can give you one last chance, Balkeen. Release them or I will kill you.”
“I can’t!” he squawked. His darted around her face wildly. She had never seen anyone look so afraid. “They’ll kill me if I go back on my word. They’ll tear me limb from limb until there’s nothing left.”
He began sobbing. He thrashed his arms, trying to break her hold on him. She dug her broken, jagged nails into his flesh. He squirmed in pain as she leaned in close.
“Is that your final answer?”
She knew she was stalling. The thought of killing him made her stomach squirm. She just couldn’t see any other way of saving the humans he’d imprisoned without also harming herself.
He tried smacking her in the face. He kicked at her. He clawed at the exposed skin of her arms.
In that moment, she knew he would never concede to her. He wasn’t afraid of her like he was of whoever had hired h
im to curse the humans. She knew that, like her, he had been played as a pawn in a much bigger game. It didn’t matter. He’d made his choice. And now, he would have to die with the knowledge of it.
Her entire body shook as she lifted him from the ground. He writhed in her grasp. She didn’t know how, but she was able to maintain her grip on him.
She closed her eyes, grieving the person she knew she would lose if she did. She told herself the outcomes outweighed the costs. Everyone deserved their freedom. Even if they turned against her the way Liam had, they didn’t deserve to be kept as slaves.
She slammed his head into one of the large rocks erupting from the frozen water. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, blood oozing from a wound just past his temple. His lips gaped open and closed.
Her hands shook, and tears streamed from her eyes. She felt the ribbons of light waiver. They were the chains binding the humans to their animal forms. They barely even waivered as Balkeen sucked in one laborious breath after the last. She stole a glance at his face. His features were slack. If it hadn’t been for the blood flooding down the side of his head, she might have thought he was sleeping.
“I gave you a chance,” she whispered.
She smashed his head against the rock again. Blood sprayed her face, mixing with the tears running down her cheeks. His body went slack. He didn’t move when she dropped him to the ground. She searched for the ribbons of light once more. They flickered and then went out.
Iris balled her hands into fists as she trembled. She was just as bad as Grandmother. She had served as judge and jury. She’d decided that her desire to free the humans from their curse was more important than his life. She’d snuffed it out like it meant nothing. He had done terrible things, but now, so had she.
Shaking her head, she turned her back on his prone body. She couldn’t sense any of the spells he’d placed anymore. All of them had shattered with the ending of his life. She told herself it was worth it. She told herself there was no other way to save them. She told herself she’d done the right thing.
All she could hope was that she wasn’t too late to save Emma.