by Sarah Piper
I focused my will and intent on sending him that message, my influence pulsing through his mind, already making him question his own instincts.
He turned back around slowly, confused, as if he’d just run into a room and forgotten what for.
That’s it. Nice and easy. That weapon is dangerous, Phillip. It’s best to turn it over.
Phillip nodded, then finally handed over the weapon, and I shoved it into the back of my waistband.
In his cloudy haze, Phillip had lost all common sense, and now he allowed Darius to approach him, totally unchallenged.
Without ceremony, Darius drove a fae sword into the man’s gut, bringing the bastard to his knees.
But Phillip wasn’t dead yet. Just bleeding.
Darius yanked out the sword and lifted it overhead, intending to finish the job with a clean swipe—a quick and painless decapitation.
But this job was mine, and there would be nothing quick or painless about it.
That was a promise.
I glanced up at my vampire, our gazes locked in a fierce battle of wills. Logically, I knew it didn’t matter who killed Phillip, or any of our enemies, so long as it got done and we stopped their ultimate plans.
But I couldn’t let Darius take the man who’d murdered my mother. Who’d set our home on fire, trying to burn me down inside. Who’d shot the man I love with a devil’s trap his own twisted son had invented.
Darius read my thoughts, finally lowering his sword. “Whatever you need to do, Gray, make it quick.”
I nodded. My mouth was already full of hunter blood, but there was another whose blood I’d taste tonight. Another whose blood needed to be spilled by my hand.
I knelt down beside Phillip and sank my fangs into his neck, taking exactly what I needed—not a drop more.
Phillip choked and sputtered, his body failing.
“Are you afraid?” I asked him.
No response.
I leaned in close, whispering in his ear. “Good. You should be.” Then, glancing up at Darius, “I’ll be right back.”
The blue runes carved into the gates of the Shadowrealm pulsed brightly, its stone archway looming overhead. Here in my realm, the night sky was cloudless, glittering with stars.
It seemed fitting that he would die here—die by my hand, by my power. Die in a place he and all hunters feared—a place of a witch’s true power.
“Do it,” he hissed, kneeling before the rune gate, writhing beneath my grip on his shoulder. But his efforts were weak. He’d already lost too much blood. All he had now were his nasty words, his filthy lies.
He was going to choke on them.
“Do it!” he tried again, but I shook my head, a sense of rightness and calm washing over me.
This man, if I could even bring myself to call him that, had murdered my mother. I was also holding him at least partly accountable for Sophie’s death, considering that his passionate hatred of witches ultimately drove his son mad. Phillip’s torments had set Jonathan on a fruitless, lifelong quest to prove himself by any means necessary.
“You cut my mother’s throat,” I said plainly, “and you set our home on fire.”
“Your mother was the devil’s whore,” he spat, “just like you.”
Ignoring this, I said, “I watched her blood spill. I watched her bones turn to ash. I pissed myself waiting for you to come back and light me on fire next, but you never did.”
“That woman needed to burn, and you will, too. Maybe not tonight, but soon enough.”
“For more than a decade,” I continued, still calm, still serene, “I’ve seen that moment in my nightmares, in my waking hours, in the bitter darkness. It took me years to accept that it wasn’t my fault. That there was nothing I could’ve done to save her, just as there’s nothing I can do now to bring her back. But there is something I can do to get that image out of my mind—for a little while, at least.”
Phillip coughed up blood, but his eyes still burned with vicious hatred. “How do you plan to do that, sorceress?”
I smiled.
Then I removed the dagger from my boot, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and cut his throat. Not too deep. More of a nick, just like Ronan had shown me how to do. It was an art, really, getting it just right. Just deep enough to watch his artery pump out his blood, slow and steady, but not so deep he bled out too quickly.
I wanted him conscious for this.
Phillip growled at the fresh pain, his taunts quickly turning into moans of agony.
I took a step back, looking down on him and meeting his gaze.
“This is for my mother, Calla, and all the other witches you’ve tortured and killed. This is for Sophie, my best friend and the bravest witch I know. And this is for every witch and every woman who’s ever had to hide her truth, her heart, her soul from the world because of men like you.”
Then I reached into my pocket, pulled out a lighter, and lit him on fire.
There were no words for the sounds that came out of his mouth then. No words to describe the smell of his burning flesh.
From the moment I’d brought him here, I thought I’d want to watch, to wait until the flames consumed his body, until the very last smoldering ember died. I thought I’d want to spit on the ashes of his bones.
But hearing his screams? That was enough.
I took one more glance at his burning body, his twitching limbs engulfed, then turned my back on him.
And there before me, gaping at the burning mass of the former king of the hunters, was his son.
Half beast, half something else entirely, the hunter formerly known as Jonathan dragged himself closer, his eyes full of inexplicable agony.
He fell to the ground before the fire, keening, the sound making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
That Jonathan would grieve for the man who’d ruined him was a testament to the power of manipulation, the weaponization of love by those completely incapable of feeling it.
It was tragic. Logically, I knew that. And maybe there was a time when I would’ve felt bad at how things had ended for them. For Jonathan, the first boy I’d ever loved.
But I had no compassion left for the Reese family. The best I could offer Jonathan now was a quick death. And this time, I’d be sure it stuck.
“You’re the last of your line, hunter,” I said to his back. “And this is the end of yours.”
Jonathan didn’t move. I grabbed his head and twisted hard. Fast. Bone snapped, but a broken neck was only a setback for Jonathan. He was, after all, a vampire now, however mutated.
I retrieved the sword from my back. Gripping it tightly, I swung hard and true, decapitating him instantly.
As Jonathan’s blood dripped from my blade, I watched just long enough for the flames to lick across the grass and catch his body, swallowing him in the inferno, the blaze burning father and son out of existence.
Feeling lighter than I had in years, I walked back along my path, taking in the whole of my realm—the black skeleton trees, silver eyes glittering from the branches. The scents of lilac and lavender. The rolling meadow, and the lake that seemed to appear and disappear at will.
I loved this place. It had brought me back to my magic when I was certain I’d never feel its warm touch again.
But now, it was time to say goodbye.
I sat down on the path, digging my fingers into the dirt, and closed my eyes, slowly releasing my hold, slowly letting it go.
When I opened my eyes, I was back on the material plane with Darius, right where I’d left him. It was clear that only moments had passed here, just as I’d intended.
He pulled me into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
“Ronan?” I asked. “Have you seen him?”
Darius shook his head. “Let’s go find him, shall we?”
We headed back to the side of the street where another skirmish had broken out, weaving through a cluster of witches and hybrids, helping them take out the last few enemy shifters.
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br /> We dispatched them quickly, and I was ready to be on my way again. But a flash of movement in the shadows in the alley beside us caught my eye, and I turned just in time to see her.
Alive. In person. Real.
The woman who’d once called herself my mother.
Her eyes locked on mine, gleaming with pure, unadulterated hatred.
“You die, Shadowborn filth,” she announced.
But in that terrible, soul-wrenching instant, I realized it wasn’t me she was after tonight. Not yet, anyway.
She charged toward us in a blur, plucking a witch from the group and sinking her fangs into her neck. It was over in an instant. She dropped the witch like a rag doll, sparing me a quick, bloodstained smile before blurring out of sight.
My heart shattered, exploding in a million tiny shards inside my chest.
I couldn’t feel my legs, my lungs, my face. Nothing was working. Nothing would ever work properly again.
Because the witch lying broken on the street, blood leaking from her artery as she sputtered and gasped for her final breaths, was Reva.
Thirty-Two
LIAM
Darius charged after Trinity, disappearing around the corner as Gray dropped to her knees beside us.
Her heartbreak mirrored my own, and as she wept for the child that’d become like a fourth sister to her, I felt the weight of her impending loss bearing down on us both.
It stole the very breath from my lungs.
“I love you, Gray,” Reva choked out. “You’re… You’re my sister in all the ways that… that count.”
“Reva, don’t talk.” Gray held the girl’s hands, pressing them to her heart as if she could bring Reva back from the brink with the force of her love alone. “Save your strength. We’ll fix this. We have to fix this.”
“It’s too late,” Reva said. “Don’t—”
“If you say I’m your sister, then you have to listen to what I say,” Gray snapped. “And right now, I say it isn’t too late.” She scanned the street in both directions, frantic. “Damn it. Where is McKenna? We need healing, now. Liam, find—”
“Gray, I… I need to talk to Liam alone.” Reva’s voice was faint, but her eyes were calm and clear. Resigned.
“Shh,” Gray said. “Just be still.”
“You have to let me go.” A tear tracked down Reva’s cheek, and Gray gasped, sensing the end was near.
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Gray said. “I can… I can fix this.” She closed her eyes, then shook her head, as if she were talking herself out of something terrible.
Or, more likely, into something terrible.
Immediately I sensed the direction of her thoughts, and I placed a hand on her shoulder, bringing her back from the darkness.
“No, Gray,” I said softly. Gently. “Your heart is in the right place, but you mustn’t act on it.”
We both knew Reva wouldn’t want Gray to turn her into a vampire, or to manipulate her soul energy, even if it meant saving her life. Even as Gray’s skills had improved immeasurably, there could never be a resurrection without loss.
Reva would certainly lose something—some part of herself, some memory, something crucial that made her the Reva we all knew and loved.
“I can’t just leave her like this!” Gray shouted, but I saw the resignation in her eyes, and tried not to show the relief in mine.
Reva was going to die. We both knew it. All that we had left was a precious moment in which to say goodbye.
I knew from my long tenure as Death that even a single moment was more than most people got, and my heart swelled, grateful for the gift that it was. Grateful for the gift that Reva herself had been, shining her light into our lives, however briefly.
“We’re not leaving you,” Gray told her, stroking her cheek. “We’ll be right here the whole time.”
Reva shook her head. “I want… I need to be alone with Liam. Please, Gray.”
Gray bit her lip, shaking her head, but again I saw the resignation in her eyes. She would grant Reva this last wish, despite her own wishes on the matter.
“Are you sure?” she finally asked.
Reva nodded.
Tears spilled down Gray’s face, and she bent down and pressed a kiss to Reva’s forehead, her shoulders shaking. I placed my hand on her back, wishing I had the power to take her pain, that I could carry it for eternity.
But I also knew that I wouldn’t take it, even if I’d had that magic. The pain itself was a blessing; it meant that she’d truly loved Reva, and from the depths of that ache, her love would continue to bloom, blossoming anew with every shared memory, every gentle reminder.
“Find Trinity,” Reva whispered. “End her.”
Gray kissed her once more, sealing the promise. Then, reluctantly, she released Reva’s hands and got to her feet.
Her pain fell away, leaving only a steely determination in its place.
“I need to find Trinity,” she said.
“I know, Little Witch.”
“Look after her,” she whispered. And then she was gone, blurring around the corner in the direction Darius had gone only moments before.
The instant we were alone, Reva’s brave mask evaporated, and she began to cry in earnest.
“I’m scared,” she said, her eyes wide and child-like.
“Me too,” I admitted. It wasn’t a lie. I was terrified—terrified to lose her. Terrified Gray would never survive the pain of this death. Terrified that I’d caused so much irreparable damage to the people I’d come to love—that I should’ve been able to find some way to prevent this tragedy.
Terrified that when we woke up tomorrow after all the dust had settled, we’d realize what fools we’d been—how hopeless our cause really was.
But in the end, my fear was no match for my faith, and as Reva took a deep, shuddering breath, steadying herself once again, I knew she would find her path in the Shadowrealm, despite the brokenness of the natural order.
Like Gray, this one was a fighter.
“Liam, I need to tell…” She coughed once, her body going still, even as the light shone bright in her eyes. “I know. I already know.”
In that single moment, she’d aged a lifetime, and I knew immediately what she was referring to.
“How?” I asked.
“Being Shadowborn… It explains so much. It just… Everything makes sense.”
I smiled, knowing she was holding back. “That’s all? You just did the math, sketched it out on a napkin, and figured it all out?”
Her eyes glinted with mischief. “Well I… I heard you talking to Gray about it.” A smile touched her lips, then faded, her gaze turning serious and ancient once again.
“Yes, Reva,” I said. “You are indeed Shadowborn.”
There was no point in denying it, though I wished now that I’d spoken with her about it sooner. Would it have changed this outcome? Given her some other advantage, some other path?
“Then you have to do it,” she said, her voice faint, but totally clear. Her body was no longer struggling, leaving her mind to focus on this last request. “You have to sac—”
“No.” I was resolute. Reva may have surprised me with this new direction, but my instinct to protect her was as sharp as ever.
She wanted to take on the Death mantle. To allow me to sacrifice her to that end, just as the Old One had instructed. A Shadowborn witch, they’d said. That was the only way to undo the chaos of my banishment. The curse.
“It’s the only way to fix this.” She blinked the snowflakes from her dark lashes, even as more continued to gather. Her eyes were bright blue in the night. Half-wild now.
“I’ve already accepted the terms of my punishment,” I said, “and I will deal with the consequences, however terrible they are. It’s not your burden to carry, little one.” I touched my hand to her cheek. “I can’t ask you to make such a sacrifice.”
“Hello?” She rolled her eyes, her playful spark undimmed. “I’m dying. It’s not much of a
sacrifice.”
I shook my head. She was so, so wrong. Taking on the mantle of Death was a greater burden than she could ever imagine, a fate many would find worse than experiencing death itself.
But she was undeterred. And just as she’d been able to convince Gray to leave her, now, she was already slipping in past my defenses.
“Please, Liam,” she said, her voice so soft now I had to lean in close to hear it. “I had a dream about this a long time ago, before I ever met you. You appeared as a black raven, and you showed me this moment, right here. I saw the snow falling on my face from above. You said I would know what to do when the time came.”
I could only stare, open-mouthed. Reva had never mentioned this to me, not in all our lessons and conversations.
“When I woke up the next morning,” she continued, “it was like this great sense of purpose and belonging fell over me, and I knew. I just knew.” She closed her eyes, her skin so pale she was nearly translucent. “Let me do this. For Gray. For Haley. For all of the witches who came here today. It’s truly what I want. What I was meant for.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks, and my own eyes blurred.
Reva sounded so much like Gray in that moment, I could only smile.
She was nearly gone now, but in these final moments, she had won me over.
“Are you certain?” I asked.
Reva smiled, and my heart melted, knowing it would be the last I would ever see it.
Gently I placed my hand over her eyes and bowed my head, whispering the incantation given to me by the Old One, the last and only power I’d been left with. The one I’d sworn I’d never use.
When she opened her eyes again, they were electric, holding the wisdom of a thousand stars, the depths of the ancient oceans, the timelessness of the entire universe.
She opened her mouth to speak, but I would never know her final thoughts. Her body convulsed, then shifted before my eyes, the sight as awesome as it was beautiful.
A sleek, white raven flapped its great wings, hovering before me for a single heartbeat.
Fresh tears glazed my eyes, and I blinked them away.