by E.J. Stevens
Fernie nudged me with her nose. Oh yeah, I was already wrapped around her little hoof.
“Never a dull moment, princess,” Torn said, a grin tugging at his lips.
“Lucifer save us all,” Forneus muttered.
Ceff finished removing Fernvolg’s chains and smiled. We’d solved the case, defeated the lich king, rescued an adorable night-mare, and maybe even found a cure for Kaye’s condition. Not bad for a day’s work.
“Let’s go home,” I said.
Chapter 34
The lich king was dead. It was time to go home, hug my kid, and sleep for a week. Too bad the Necropolis had other ideas.
“What the hell is that?” I asked, fingering my knives and shifting to a fighting stance. “Torn? You deal with shadows. Any ideas?”
Shadows slid down the bodies of the fallen zombies to pool on the ground. More shadows flowed from the outskirts of the Necropolis. They moved like living mercury, if mercury were made of darkness.
“Yes, cat lord, is this your handiwork?” Forneus asked, hellfire flickering behind narrowed eyes.
“No, by sweet Titania, this is not my work,” Torn said, eyes wide as he stared incredulously at the writhing shadows. I believed him. For the first time since we’d met, Torn looked truly out of his depth. “I can coax and charm a shadow to let me pass, or to share its secrets, not command hundreds of the things. This…this isn’t my doing.”
“In all of my years, I’ve never seen such a thing,” Forneus said, drawing a sword from his cane. As soon as he drew the blade, the cane disappeared. It was a neat trick.
The shadows increased their speed, slithering across the ground, heading toward the throne. Unfortunately, that meant they were also headed straight for us. I took an involuntarily step back, bile rising in my throat.
“I have,” Ceff said, voice somber. “In the Forest of Torment and in the Unseelie Court.”
It was true that shadows hadn’t behaved normally in Faerie, especially in my mother’s court. But as with most things related to Mab and to my uncle Kade, I’d tamped those memories down deep, wrapping them up and tying them up with a bow. It wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism, especially now.
“Ceff’s right,” I said, taking another step back, praying to Oberon that I wouldn’t trip and stumble into the lich king’s throne or fall and drown under a sea of darkness.
“Interesting,” Torn said. “The trees, and their shadows, in the Forest of Torment were hungry for blood. The shadows in the Unseelie Court were Mab’s spies, passing along whispers to the queen and her court. What do these shadows desire do you think?”
“I don’t care,” I said, shaking my head. “So long as they stay away.”
I did not want to be sucked into a shadow’s vision. Was that even possible? Until now, I would have said a shadow peeling itself from their hosts and rushing toward me like some rabid monster while its brethren pooled and slid like hungry puddles of darkness wasn’t possible, but that was happening all over the Necropolis. We were surrounded.
“That would seem unlikely, given the circumstances,” Forneus said.
The shadows continued swarming, herding us closer to the throne. Scratch that. They were herding me closer to the throne. Somehow, I’d been cut off from my friends.
I shot a glance at Ceff, chest tightening. He was stabbing at the shadows with his trident, but the weapon had no lasting effect. The shadows continued to gain ground.
“Ivy!” he shouted, anguish in his voice.
Ceffyl Dwr, king of the kelpies, was caught against the shadow tide, trapped in an undertow. He knew better than I did that swimming against a riptide was futile, and deadly. But he wouldn’t back down, not while someone he loved was in danger.
“I’m okay,” I said, thankful that I could still tell a white lie.
Truth was, I was scared as hell. The shadows writhed at the base of the throne, as if a pack of barghests fought there, rolling and falling over each other, struggling for dominance. Not one shadow touched the throne, or me, not yet.
“What’s happening?” I asked, voice a hushed whisper.
“Change,” Torn said, tilting his head.
Chapter 35
Cold, malevolent shadows rushed me, invading body and mind. Their voices started as whispers, multiple conversations, slipping and sliding over each other, never coming into focus. Pressure built, but it didn’t signal the usual headache or nausea. Magic filled the air, choking me, as the voices sent icy tendrils to invade my heart and mind.
The deeper they delved, the stronger their power, and the clearer their words.
“Claim us.”
“Command us.”
“Restore the throne.”
“Command us, my Queen.”
Queen? Mab’s bloody bones, no.
But the shadows didn’t fight fair. Like most things in my world, they sought out vulnerabilities, hitting me where my defenses were weakest. I could face death, but I wouldn’t risk the lives of those I loved.
Shadows writhed, wrapping themselves into chains, dragging down my friends, dragging down my beloved, drowning them beneath the churning darkness. The shadows even swallowed the puff of ash as Ceff, Torn, Forneus, and Fernvolg hit the ground.
“Claim us.”
“Command us.”
“My Queen.”
“My Queen. My Queen. My Queen.”
It wasn’t fair. But since when did Faerie play fair? Faerie was a dirty rotten opponent, but I could fight dirty too.
“Release them, or I’ll kill myself,” I said, holding my blade to my throat. I gasped, the truth of my words and the bargain of them hanging heavy in the air. “I’ll do it.”
“Release them?”
“Release my friends,” I said.
“Friends?”
“RELEASE MY FRIENDS AND MY BETROTHED,” I shouted.
“As you command.”
“Command.”
“As you command.”
“Command.”
“My Queen.”
“No,” I gasped, but it was too late.
I could feel the change. I’d made a mistake. The lich king had set a trap. It must have been the lich king, right? Although that didn’t make sense. But I was drowning, suffocating. What mattered was that I’d tried to escape the trap and failed.
At least my friends would survive. Ceff would live. Maybe, he would make it home. Sparky wouldn’t become an orphan again. The kid could still have a dad. My friends would take care of the city. They would keep it safe.
That was enough.
It had to be.
Pain coursed through my veins. Icy daggers lancing through me, the shadows and ice magic piercing my body and my mind to a heartbeat that resembled but wasn’t mine. Somewhere deep inside my soul, I knew the source of that thrumming beat. It had been with me all along.
I couldn’t fight it. I’d never escaped it. It was the heartbeat of Faerie, and I was tied to that realm with bone and blood. Shadow and ice. Air and darkness.
I wanted to die. I wanted the spell to end or end me. I wasn’t so lucky.
The shadows and frost had been unbearable. I was nothing but pain and emptiness. I tried to reach for the hope that I’d always had, the human piece of me that still believed in true love and happily ever after. I shifted my focus and stretched mental fingers toward my heart, but it was encased in ice. The spark that was hope and love and goodness faded.
I thought that was the worst thing that could happen. My body was trapped and tortured. Everything that made me who I am was locked away, hidden so deep I couldn’t be sure it truly existed at all. It couldn’t possibly be worse.
That’s when the vines sprung from the ground, from mausoleums, from every grave. The vines were made of ice, covered in thorns, and raced toward me with speed and purpose. I was their queen and so, I must be bound.
I screamed until the icy vines wrapped tightly around my mouth, thorns piercing my lips. I tried to turn, to see if my friends were still ali
ve, but the vines held like iron chains. Vines wrapped around my forehead, twining and dancing in graceful pirouettes.
No.
I was a hero. Heroes save their friends. I wouldn’t let my friends die.
I closed my eyes, reaching deep for the last vestiges of my wisp magic. It was Unseelie magic, but unlike the ice magic of my mother’s court, this was the fire magic of my father’s much smaller court. I pictured my father’s solemn face and reached further.
There.
Hiding behind my frozen heart was a spark, a tiny glowing ball of wisp magic. It was depressingly small, but I didn’t let that stop me. I reached for it, coaxed it, whispering promises that I wasn’t sure I could keep. Lying to myself? I was damn good at that.
I was also good at saving the Mab-be-damned day despite terrible odds.
I sent the glowing wisp magic toward my heart. I shoved every bit of energy I had at it, demanding it to attack. I was attacking myself, but I didn’t care. What kind of life would I have without my heart?
Heat and pain shot through my chest. Ice and fire burned, blackening the wall around my heart. With one final burst of magic, all that I had left, the ice inside my chest shattered. Cold light burst through the Necropolis and the vines and shadows retreated. I blinked rapidly, pulling a shuddering breath through lips that were no longer pierced with thorns.
My reflection glittered back at me in all directions from the many-faceted ice gems that covered the Necropolis. Every tomb, headstone, and mausoleum was encased and bejeweled, death enshrouded like a deadly geode.
The effect was dizzying, and I faltered. Any grace the ice magic had bestowed was lost as I stumbled, stomach churning as reality repositioned itself, and my role within it. I don’t know how I knew that reality was shifting, only that there were endless things I had access to now, seas of truths floating and swimming within my blood. My stomach churned, but ice crept in further, holding my gorge from rising.
I wasn’t thankful for the magic’s assistance. I’d rather dump the contents of my stomach all over the sparkly throne. I prayed to Oberon and even Mab that Faerie would release me, would allow me to be almost human again.
But it was too late. The evidence of that shone with a cold brilliance that should have hurt to look at.
Upon my brow sat a crown.
It was beautiful and deadly. Thorns, roses, and blades that looked suspiciously similar to the ones strapped to my arms were spun together, a glittering ring of ice and shadow.
I pulled my gaze away, not willing to become ensnared by my reflection. There was something I needed to see with much greater urgency. I spun around, eyes searching the ground below the throne.
As I leapt forward, shadows and ice slid away from my friends. They looked shaken, but whole. They would survive.
The shadows and vines whispered as they retreated, dipping and bowing as they rushed away from the throne.
“All hail, Ivy the Queen of Air and Darkness.”
“All hail, Ivy the Queen of the Winter Court.”
“All hail, Ivy the Queen of the Unseelie.”
My friends, every Unseelie fae, dropped to the floor. Only Forneus resisted, his head bowed and hands fisted at his sides rather than down on one knee. Torn and Ceff weren’t so lucky. They were kneeling, their heads bowed, backs bent painfully.
An icy tear slid down my cheek, shattering as it hit the frost-covered stones at my feet.
“No,” I choked, sobs breaking from my chest and tearing from a throat gone cold and raw. “No.”
I ran to my friends.
“This can’t be happening,” I muttered.
I dropped gracelessly to the ground, lifting Ceff’s chin. I didn’t care that at some point my gloves had burned away. I touched his face, the skin scalding beneath my fingers. I didn’t pull away, even when the tips of my fingers started to blister.
“I love you,” I said.
His body was rigid and unresponsive, but his eyes were fierce. My Ceff was in there. He’d fought captivity before—first with the each uisge and more recently with the Wild Hunt—he would survive. He would come back to me.
“I love you,” I said. “I don’t want this crown. I don’t want this power. I just want you.”
More tears slid down my cheek. Were they less frozen now?
“I love you,” I said. “I will never give up on us. Never.”
Ice slid from my chest, painful icy spikes dragged through organs, bone, and flesh, but the cold retreated. It didn’t go far. The magic never fully leaving me, but it lessened.
More importantly, my friends were free. Ceff reached for me, wrapping me in his arms.
My face was wet. I wasn’t sure if it from my tears, which had returned to the messy, hot normal kind, or from my melting crown. Regardless, I could still feel the weight of the crown whether it had melted or not.
“Is everyone okay?” I asked, voice little more than a raspy, rattling croak as my vocal cords rediscovered the reality of flesh.
“Never better, princess,” Torn said.
“I will endure,” Forneus said, dusting off his suit and looking around for his blade.
I was pretty sure that Faerie, or its shadow and ice minions, had stolen the sword. Hopefully, Forneus could magic himself a new one.
“Ceff?” I asked, running a hand down his face.
My eyes widened in wonder. That was new. We couldn’t usually touch without a vision. I’d always thought of that as a burden, or at least an inconvenience, but right now it was like a wall between us, shutting me out.
“I am well, so long as you are unharmed,” he said, turning his head to press his lips to my palm.
“Princess?” Torn asked.
Forneus coughed.
“Perhaps, Miss Granger would like to retrieve her clothes,” he said.
I blinked. My clothes? I looked down, belatedly realizing that my gloves weren’t the only things to burn away during my transformation.
“Oberon’s eyes,” I muttered.
“Here,” Ceff said, pulling his shirt over his head and handing it to me.
I frowned. Old habits die hard, but he was right. I’d touched his skin without a vision. His shirt was probably safe. And it’s not like I was touching anything belonging to Torn or Forneus.
Fernie whinnied, nosing something half-buried in ash. No way. She’d found my leather jacket.
I shivered and put on Ceff’s shirt, pulling my filthy jacket on over it. I glanced down, knobby knees peeking out from below the hem, and smiled. I looked like a kid, not a queen.
Not looking like a queen suited me just fine. Not being one would suit be even better, but that was a problem for another day. Right now, I wanted to crank the heat, crawl into bed, and sleep for a week.
“Let’s go home,” I said.
Chapter 36
I was cold and grouchy and in no mood for zombie hijinks. Thankfully, the zombies on the other side of the portal had become lifeless with the lich king’s death, just as the ones had in the Necropolis. That’s where our luck ran out.
Highgate Cemetery was hauntingly beautiful from our vantage as we emerged from the portal, traversing from the Necropolis, to stand at the entrance to Egyptian Avenue. We’d left destruction in our wake, but the stone vaults seemed to glow prettily in the gathering twilight.
For a moment, looking up through the canopy of vines to the majestic cedar framed by the archway, I wondered if Jinx would agree to holding the wedding here. A bouquet there, a ribbon here, and it would be a fitting place to exchange vows that were meant to last an eternity.
Well, it was almost perfect. I stepped over a fallen corpse. We’d have to do something about the zombies. I didn’t think they added to a festive wedding atmosphere.
Something hissed to my right, and I jumped, staggering as my boot caught on a rotting shroud.
“This is unfortunate,” Forneus said with a sulfurous sigh.
Okay, I had wrenched my hip, but I didn’t know why he sounded so i
rritable. Maybe, he was suffering from low blood sugar. I couldn’t even remember the last time I ate.
He waved his cane in front of my face and I glared over my shoulder. But Forneus was a few feet away, and he had his cane at his side. What the hell?
The thick, black thing in front of me lashed out and I stumbled back, right into the rotting corpse. If I survived this, I’d see if Fernie could eat my nightmares. Because, hoo-boy, this was going to create a doozy.
“You just had to wake up, Bob,” Forneus said.
Bob was an orb variety of spider-fae who was currently waving his legs and mandibles at me threateningly. I got the message, but apparently, scurrying blindly backward over a pile of corpses isn’t my best skill.
“Sometime this century, princess,” Torn said.
I stumbled to my feet, and hurriedly lurched over the bodies. Bob wasted no time. Long, spindly black legs reached out and dragged a corpse into a nearby vault.
“What is he doing?” I whispered shakily.
“His job,” Torn said.
My head pounded and my wings throbbed, and I had no idea what Torn was talking about. Bob continued to drag the fallen zombies back to their coffins while I stood as if rooted to the pathway.
“Is he going to eat them?” I asked.
Torn laughed and Fernie snorted, pawing at the ground. A grin tugged at Ceff’s lips, but he gestured to Forneus.
“No, Miss Granger,” Forneus said, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Bob is the caretaker.”
“Oh,” I said.
Torn’s laughter still rang in my ears as the cat sidhe tugged at a shadow, stretching and folding the darkness into a pathway, taking us home. It was about time. I’d had it with liches, and zombies, and spider-fae caretakers.
Chapter 37
Standing in my bedroom, staring at the mundane normalcy of my unmade bed and laundry-strewn floor, drove home the fact that I was no longer normal. Normal-ish. I’ve never truly been normal.