Inimical

by Genevieve Iseult Eldredge

  But that dark part of me, the part that’s pure dark Fae, crashes against the bars of her cage, screaming in my mind.

  Take her, claim her. She’s yours!

  No. I ready my mental shields.

  In response, Dark-Rouen roars in fury, her desires building like a runaway storm inside me. My hands itch to touch Syl, to drag her close; my fangs itch to devour her.

  Take her, take her, take her!

  No! I slam my shields down like an adamantine wall, locking out my dark self. Even so, I feel her scraping against them, dragging her claws down that mental barrier. She’s getting stronger.

  Take her!

  I won’t. I love Syl. I want to be with her.

  But can I be, without hurting her, without turning her into my queen-slave the way every single dark Fae king has?

  I won’t risk it.

  Not until I’ve settled things with Dark-Rouen. I won’t take the chance of hurting her.

  Syl’s concern bleeds down the soul-bond. “Roue?” She reaches out to me, touches my arm. “I want to,” she says shyly, turning to kiss my palm.

  The touch of her lips is lightning and fire against my skin. It gives Dark-Rouen the power she needs to surge up.

  I slam her back down.

  “Me too,” I step in, mastering my dark self, fighting it for every clear-headed second. “It’s all right. I want to wait until you feel it’s right.”

  She smiles, leans up. The touch of her lips sets me on fire.

  Okay, time to do something else. “Maybe we should…” I nod toward the city laid out before us.

  “I’m with you. Besides…” Her eyes glint with mischief. “We have to train. Both of us. Get ready for some War, Miss Badass Gothstar.”

  The summer night is sweltering as I chase Syl through the streets and along the rooftops of Shockoe Bottom and up into Shockoe Slip. The sky is a fantastical orange-pink-red, and I have to admit, from up here, you can see the everything lit up.

  The whole world on fire.

  Save it for the lyrics, Roue.

  I glance back, but Syl’s gone. What the—

  Bam!

  Syl pulls her punch, but I run right into it. Blast it all! My legs go out from under me, and I fall to the rooftop with an embarrassing, “Oof!” Looked back when I should’ve been looking forward. Always concerned about her.

  Her smiling face appears above me. “Don’t worry about me.”

  But how can I not? My father tried to infect her with Inimical circuitry. Then he named her my second in the duel. He sent the Xi after her.

  That’s just for starters. He’s been awfully quiet since then.

  I kippup to my feet. Syl grins, circling me. My sweet Summer girl.

  The thought of losing her guts my black heart.

  I still wake every morning, feeling that icy blade in my hand.

  Syl’s next punch comes, and I evade. We dance around each other on top of the bank building. “Head in the game, Roue.” She windwarps toward me, appearing right in front of me with a front kick.

  I slap it aside, and she spins with the force of my parry.

  Her laughter echoes over the rooftops. Her energy and effervescence comes down the soul-bond, and I feel myself relaxing into our sparring match. After all the “Wits” training the bain sidhe’s giving me, I need to let off some steam. For the next few moments, we are windwarping and flashing about, trading blows, parrying, evading.

  We pull our strikes just enough not to cause serious injury.

  I cock an eyebrow at her. “You’ve gotten good, princess.”

  She smiles, breathless, and raises an eyebrow. “As good as you.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” I tease her, warming to our flirty banter.

  Already, my body is heating up, and not from the strenuous sparring. Her closeness, the scent of her—all vanilla and sweet skin musk—flies wild around us. Her infectious smile, red curls that I want to tangle my fingers into, her pale skin dusted with freckles…

  I want to push her against the alley wall, kiss her, drink her in.

  A slow smile curves her lips as she feels my desire through the soul-bond.

  “It’s okay,” she tells me. “I’m not scared of you.”

  Oh, Syl, you should be.

  She takes a step, then another. I think she’s coming into my arms, and then she sweeps my leg and follows with a jump punch. I dodge, and she pulverizes the wall. We’re peppered with bricks and dust.

  “Come on!” She windwarps away, laughing. “Take me if you can.”

  “Oh, I can, princess.”

  My heart racing, I chase her through the winding dark alleys, the way I chased more than one sleeper-princess. Seeing her flee—the fair Fae princess fleeing and me giving chase…

  That memory triggers my dark self. Take her, claim her, possess her—

  No! I step on Dark-Rouen’s throat. You don’t control me.

  Oh, but don’t I? If not yet, then soon…

  Syl feels my conflict through the bond. “Roue?”

  I’m being torn apart.

  My dark self surges, wanting to devour her and her light. “I…” I force myself to stop. “I am no better than my father.” The admission rushes out of me, flooding me with fear and shame.

  “No.” Syl’s concern flashes down the bond. “You’re ten of him. And more.” A bright, reassuring smile curves her lips. “I’ll help you.”

  She moves in close.

  I try to move back, but she’s insistent. She holds me there in the alley. Her strength is growing, my sweet Summer princess. I could pull away if I wanted to, but not without a lot of effort.

  “Syl…” Panic surges up inside me. She can’t mean to provoke my dark instincts…

  “Breathe. Relax.”

  Oh, she means to, all right.

  My whole body trembles as she presses in, testing my resolve. My body is on fire, Dark-Rouen roaring in my head, her desires blotting out rational thought. I’m losing my grip… “Syl!”

  “Breathe…” She leans in, cradling my face in her soft hands.

  For one spinning moment, I wonder what happened to that shy girl I met at my show in DC, but she’s right here in front of me. Syl’s gained more confidence; she’s gotten stronger, more independent. She stands up when the chips are down. But it hasn’t hardened her.

  No, she’ll always be sweet. My sweet Summer girl.

  Her featherlight kisses on my neck, near my ear drive me wild. “Come on, Miss Stubborn. Relax, already.”

  It’s everything I can do not to pounce on her, my heart beating so fast and hard it feels like it might punch from my chest like one of those aliens in that sci-fi movie. At her every touch, my dark self rises, but I shove it down again and again, my gaze on Syl’s, on those grey eyes

  I won’t hurt her. I won’t hurt her. It becomes a mantra, and Syl adds to it,

  “You never could. You never would.”

  Her vanilla and sunshine scent wraps me up, makes me dizzy. I wrap my arms around her. My grip tightens. My fangs ache. I want to bury them in her sweet, soft throat.

  No. Don’t even think it, Rouen. Don’t—

  Suddenly, the air pressure changes, my ears pop, and a cold wind sweeps through the nighttime alleyway. The shadows warp and flash with crimson lightning.

  The Xi is coming.

  Relief and dread warring inside me, I pull away from Syl. “The Xi—”

  “I feel it.” Next to me, she drops into a battle stance.

  The shadows peel back, crimson lightning races along the ground, and the Xi steps into the alleyway. “I haven’t come to fight.”

  It takes me a second to process those words. “You haven’t?”

  “I’ve come to warn you.” For once, Xi’s eyes are ice-blue, not a trace of that possessed Inimical red. The runes on their cheek are dormant, too.

  My father must not be exercising his control.

  Even so, I’m still on high alert.

  “Aldebaran has
breached the Shroud and entered Dark Faerie.” The Xi clenches both fists, conflict evident in those icy eyes. As one of the guardians of Dark Faerie, I’m sure it grates on Xi’s nerves to have a fair Fae gallivanting around UnderHollow.

  It’s the Xi’s next words that have me reeling. “He is heading to the Ebon Vault.”

  Blast and bloody bones!

  “Is that bad?” Syl looks up at me. “What’s the Ebon Vault?”

  The Xi’s voice is tense. “The Ebon Vault is where all the forbidden magic is locked away. It houses the Moribund Heart, which encompasses all the Moribund in Dark Faerie.”

  “Gee, thanks.” I was trying to break that to my girl gently.

  Syl takes a step back. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “It’s not.” I glare at the Xi. “If Aldebaran somehow gets past the deep wards and into the chamber…”

  “He could set all the Moribund loose.”

  My heart gives a nasty jolt at the thought of millions of Moribund, Ouroboros, and Inimical circuits rushing out into UnderHollow, infecting everything they touch. Dread burgeons inside me. “It’s my father’s plan all over again—to infect Dark Faerie. Only, this time, he’s using Aldebaran and he’s trying to do it without the hearthstone.”

  Hmm…looks like all that Wits training is paying off.

  Syl clutches my arm. “What does Aldebaran get out of releasing all the Morib—ohhhhh!” She meets my gaze. “My shield. He needs more power to break my shield.”

  And kill the king.

  She doesn’t have to say it, I sense the fear in her heart. Shock and horror darken her grey eyes. “They teamed up.”

  “Yes, and Aldebaran’s plan to kill the king suits my father’s plan as well.” All my instincts tell me it’s true. “Aldebaran didn’t breach the Shroud at all. He was let in, and my father’s protecting him from the Winter weather.”

  “We need to get to UnderHollow right away. And that means…” Syl’s grey eyes are grave.

  “The harrow-stitches.” I hate it. It’ll cause even more Bleed.

  But what other choice do we have?

  31

  SYL

  Dark Faerie

  Death to a fair Fae

  Surviving the deep wards

  Is impossible

  - Glamma’s Grimm

  * * *

  I’ve never been much of a gambling girl, but I’ve got no choice. Aldebaran’s heading to the Ebon Vault in Dark Faerie to seize control of the Moribund Heart, and that is bad, bad, bad. So, Roue and I make our best guess which harrow-stitch seems the least Bleedy.

  The one at the Diamond.

  We race there, all fairy winds and windwarping. The night provides some good cover, but even so, we throw up our don’t-see-us Glamouries to mask us from any onlookers. If mortals discovered that Fae really existed, it’d be catastrophic. Can you imagine weapons of war powered by gramarye?

  I can, and it freaks me out.

  My mind whirls as streets whip by. Roue and I race along side by side, our footsteps in sync. No matter what happens, the fact that she’s at my side is everything.

  Even racing toward UnderHollow seems magical. If a bit terrifying.

  Who am I kidding? It’s a lot terrifying.

  I try to distract myself. “I’ve heard rumors that Becca got her dad to rent out the Diamond for our playoff against her and her squad.”

  Roue flicks me an annoyed gaze. “Seriously? Who does that?”

  “Becca ‘the Buck’ Buchanan,” I reply, and we lapse into silence once more. As much as I love my friends, beating Becca and her mean-girl minions isn’t my top priority. In fact, I’m not even sure Becca really is a mean girl. Hanging around the Xi’s brought out her softer side, but that’s beside the point right now. “If Aldebaran gets the Moribund Heart, there’s no telling what damage he’ll cause—in Dark Faerie and Fair Faerie.”

  It’s your fault, my inner killjoy whispers. You let him go last time, Syl.

  Maybe. But I’m not a murderer. I mean, guy deserved to get his butt kicked after the stunt he pulled at the Battle of the Bands, but death?

  “We might not have a choice this time.” Roue ‘s sending is as gentle as she can make it. “He’s Inimical now.”

  I only nod. Aldebaran is infected with Inimical circuitry, and Roue’s father holds the master-key. Now, King Reinghûl’s using the fair Fae prince to steal all the Moribund in Dark Faerie and set it loose. Not to mention, he wants Aldebaran to shatter my shield and kill my father.

  All so he can control the Great Convergence, twist it to his evil ends, and rule as Overking.

  It doesn’t get much worse than that.

  We dodge a speeding motorcycle, leaping over it, both of us landing at the same time.

  I steel my resolve. “We have to stop both of them. No matter what.”

  “Yes,” Roue agrees.

  We pour on the speed, heading to the Diamond.

  I’m hyperaware of three things: one, it’s late. Two, it’s a school night, and three, Mom will officially kill me if she finds out I’m racing through the city toward a harrow-stitch that will carry me to Dark Faerie.

  Still, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Me and Roue are a team.

  I sneak a glance at Roue as we race across the rooftops of Shockoe Bottom toward the Diamond. I can’t wrap my head around the idea of losing her.

  Never mind killing her.

  In my nightmare, I never have a choice. My body just reacts, driving my sunfire dagger into her heart. It’s the same for her, the two of us like robots.

  Programmed to hate and kill.

  I shake my head and speed up. I won’t accept that!

  Roue and I turn down North Boulevard, toward the massive stadium. The place is a ghost town. Our fairy winds kick up dust and a few stray Solo cups as we race through the empty parking lot. On weekends, when the home team plays, this place is packed, filled with college kids and families tailgating, hanging out, playing ball in the lot before the big game.

  As a result, there’s a lot of ambient emotion here.

  I see the leftover auras swirling in the air. And if I can feel it, you’d better believe the harrow-stitches can, too. Roue says they’re more powerful around places with strong emotion.

  She gives me the nod. “Do you remember where it is?”

  “Of course.” How could I forget? The Diamond was the first place we found one of Agravaine’s hidden Ouroboros ovo. It was spawning in the tunnels beneath the stadium. We head there now.

  What’s a little B&E between friends?

  The doors are locked, but Roue shoulders them open without missing a step, our don’t-see-us Glamoury fooling the cameras. My Roue is pure power and beauty, super smexy in her black leathers, her raven-dark hair like a wild halo.

  My dark angel. Swooooon.

  Head in the game, Syl.

  We race into the stadium to the “Staff Only” doors. Roue busts those open, too. Darkness yawns ahead of us, but there’s a sicky green glow—enough for a Fae to see by.

  “Ready?” I ask Roue.

  It’s one of our flirty things.

  When she responds, it sends little electrical tingles through my whole body. “Born ready.” Determination glints in her eyes.

  We head into the darkness, our footsteps echoing weirdly, making it seem like the passage is never-ending. Finally, we step out into a maintenance area where they keep the mowers and line painters. Huge, hulking machinery looms in the darkness. Jagged shadows thrown every which way.

  And in the center, the harrow-stitch.

  To my normal sight, it’s only a green shimmer, but when I call my Fae-sight, I see it as a swirling vortex pulsing and glowing like the Ouroboros itself. Roue’s dad closed the Gates to UnderHollow, so this is the only way we can get in. At least it’ll keep time from passing weirdly while we’re on the other side.

  Just a nice little side effect.

  I step toward it.

  “Syl.” Roue puts her hand on my
arm. “Maybe…maybe it’s better if you don’t come with me.”

  “Wait, what?” Hurt stabs me in the heart. “I know it’ll be hard, even with the soul-bond. I mean, at least the deep wards shouldn’t try to kill me, right?”

  “Syl…” She runs a hand through her black hair. “The Winter Court is no place for a Summer Fae.”

  “I know, I know.” I talk fast, all in a ramble. “Not to mention, your people did just try to murder me at the Goblin Market.”

  All of that flickers across her face, her concern pulsing down the bond.

  “Yes. And I won’t risk you.”

  “Look.” I take her hands, meeting her eyes. “I’m coming, no matter how many dark Fae want to kill me. You’re their princess. You’ll just have to convince them not to. Besides…Fair Faerie’s at stake, and I’m the fair Fae princess. I have a duty to my people just like you have to yours.”

  That gets right to her sense of honor. She blows out a breath. “All right. But let’s not do anything too risky, got it?”

  “Right!” I turn toward the pulsing harrow-stitch. “How do we…?”

  “Here.” Roue takes my hand. We step up to the glowing green vortex. Roue calls upon the Winter in her blood. It gets cold, tiny swirls of snow eddying. We can see our breath. She pushes her power toward the harrow-stitch. “Just a little, a breath of Winter. You only want to—”

  Fwoosh!

  The harrow-stitch yawns open, all sucking darkness and swirling gravity yanking hard, hoovering us in.

  My stomach drops out. “Whoa!”

  Instantly, the darkness folds itself around us, inky, and sliding across our skin like shivering velvet, that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as if I’m going to hurl. It’s like being enveloped in one of those haunted house tunnels, all black and suffocating and scary as the gravity pulls us through.

  It goes on just a minute too long.

  Then the harrow-stitch burps us out into the cold, wintry realm of Dark Faerie, snow and sleet churning the air around us.

  Twilight is a sparkling grey haze over snow-laden moors stretching out before a dark castle—its dark, brooding walls carved with gargoyles and cragged with towers and turrets. A blue glow, like frozen fire, emanates from the small arrow slits.