by Rosalie Redd
Standing on the other side of Zain, Victoria stiffened. Although her sunken eyes and pale face indicated the depths of her illness, she held her chin high. Respect for her mother, mixed with regret over the loss of the potion, tightened Wynne’s chest.
“This way.” Zain led them past the guards and into the Misery Room’s main chamber.
The green crystal’s pulsing light cast shadows along the walls and over the numerous crates. Tiny tendrils of energy trickled along the chains like fire ants, the palpitating lights blinking fast and furious. A gargoyle, wrapped in manacles, sat hunched on the stone floor, his features hidden behind his massive shoulders and obscured by the shadows.
Anger swept through Wynne on a rush of adrenaline. Her fingers burned, and she glanced at the tips. Fiery red, they stung with her need for retribution.
Gwawl strode from the far side of the crystal. He toyed with the golden chain at his waist, and his presence overpowered the room. His attention flicked from Victoria to Zain to Wynne.
The god’s thick brows furrowed. “Well, well, look who we have here, and just in time, too. The solar eclipse is already underway. Marco!”
Marco darted from the shadows behind the gargoyle, his shoulders raised. His face radiated with glee. “Yes, my lord.”
“I thought you said Zain let the young witch escape. You lied.” Gwawl’s voice boomed across the room.
Zain stepped forward and placed himself in front of Wynne and Victoria. A faint glimmer of hope flared in Wynne’s chest.
Marco’s gaze tracked to Wynne. The smug smile faltered. He stiffened and licked his lips. “I thought she was gone. I just want to please you—”
Gwawl held out his hand, palm raised. “Come here.”
Marco levitated then flew across the room like a rag doll. He hovered in front of the god, his hands at his throat. Legs kicking and eyes bulging from his sockets, he gasped for air.
The god narrowed his gaze and brought the fae closer. “You don’t know your ass from a hole in the wall. Stupid. Unreliable. I sentence you to Tech Duinn for eternity.”
With a flick of the god’s finger, Marco disappeared. A large pop echoed around the room.
Victoria gasped, but then her shoulders relaxed, relief evident in her features.
Wynne’s mouth went dry. Even though Marco had rejected her as his daughter, she wouldn’t have wished anyone to the Isle of Tech Duinn. Marco’s soul would rot there forever.
Gwawl’s attention turned to Wynne. The depths of his black eyes seemed endless.
A chill gravitated down her spine and along the back of her legs.
“I was afraid I’d have to force-feed your mother some gargoyle meat to prolong her life.” Gwawl waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “But that isn’t an issue any longer, though, now that you’re here.”
The urge to pummel the god rippled through Wynne, and she started toward him.
“Wynne, don’t.” Zain gripped Wynne’s waist and tugged her against him.
Unable to break free, she spat at her feet. “You’re an evil bastard.”
Gwawl blinked. A laugh burst from his lips. The grating sound ricocheted around the room, building in volume and frequency. “I’m a god out to right a wrong. Rhiannon should never have chosen Pwyll, a human lover, over me.”
The god stepped aside and motioned toward the gargoyle chained to the floor. “I do receive such great pleasure in torturing her pets. Would you like to meet my latest acquisition? Marco brought him to me a few minutes ago.” He tapped his finger against his bottom lip then shrugged. “Perhaps I was a bit rushed in my sentencing of him.”
Zain tightened his grip around Wynne’s waist. The protective gesture warmed her broken heart, but she drew away. There was something familiar about the gargoyle that prickled the hair at her nape.
As she approached, she stepped over one of the chains. The electrical charge from the crystal intensified, the sizzle an almost imperceptible hum. Her fingertips burned, and she curled her fingers in her palms until her nails dug into the tender flesh.
The figure on the floor didn’t move, but the shape of his broad shoulders, his dark skin, and his short-cropped hair made her arms tingle.
“Damian.” She raced to his side.
His shirt hung in tatters on his muscular frame, and welts marred his skin along the chain’s path. She crashed to her knees in front of him. Pain rippled down her shins. Tears threatened as she cupped his face in her palms. Although she didn’t love him, she still cared for him, deeply.
“Damian, you returned for me, didn’t you?” She sobbed.
The news spilling from Wynne’s lips heated Zain’s ears, and his doubts about Wynne and Damian vanished. The gargoyle was her lover. She really had played him for a fool. He wanted to hate her, but he’d fallen harder for her than he cared to admit. An ache built at the center of his heart.
“Wynne…” Damian groaned and raised his head. A lopsided smile tugged at his bruised and swollen lip.
Zain’s stomach lurched. He glanced at the ground, at the crystal, at the line of crates, at anything to avoid witnessing the lovers’ reunion in front of him.
Victoria placed her hand on his shoulder and whispered, “Remember what I said about Wynne.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear. Wynne cares for you.” The comments tumbled through his mind, and he tightened his jaw.
Victoria released an exasperated breath. “She loves you, not Damian. Look in her eyes and you’ll know for sure.”
He peered at Wynne, but her attention remained focused on Damian.
“You shouldn’t have come back. I didn’t want this for you,” she said to the gargoyle.
Damian raised his hand and stroked a finger along Wynne’s cheek. The chains around his wrist clanked from the movement. “I’m not surprised you returned for your mother and that fae. I’ve watched you fall in love with him over this past week, and your return to this wretched place only confirmed it.”
Wynne’s bottom lip quivered. She rose to her feet, turned away from the gargoyle, and met Zain’s gaze. Amplified by unshed tears, love radiated from the depths of her beautiful blue eyes.
His heartbeat picked up speed. She loved him? Was that really possible?
A loud rumble shook the room. The crystal’s pulsating green light ceased, replaced by a vibrant steady light.
“Enough sniveling. The solar eclipse will be at its peak soon.” Gwawl narrowed his gaze and pointed at Zain. “Take the elder witch to the crystal.”
He hesitated, his muscles rigid with tension.
“Is there a problem, fae?” Gwawl’s low voice echoed around the chamber.
The god’s watchful gaze bore into Zain. Pinpricks hammered behind his eyes, spiking into his brain. He hid his uncertainty behind the wall of agony and forced himself to breathe.
“Not at all, my lord.” He bowed his head then grasped Victoria’s arm and walked along a narrow path through the water surrounding the giant crystal.
She wrapped her arm around his and patted his hand. “You’re a good man.”
He wasn’t, not really, but he didn’t have the energy or the heart to argue with her. He was a fae, through and through.
Wynne rushed to her mother’s side. “No, Mom!”
“Subdue her or I’ll do it for you!” Gwawl’s command reverberated around the chamber and shook the walls.
“Stop!” Wynne held up her hands and electrical energy zapped from her fingertips. The tendrils latched on to one of the chains and traveled to the crate at its end. The large metal box elevated off the ground and rattled against the bonds before crashing down once again.
The electrical discharge stopped as quickly as it had started.
Wynne’s eyes widened, and she peered at her hands.
Zain let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d held. Even muted by the bracelet, Wynne’s powers were remarkable. What could she do if the golden cuff wasn’t there?
She glanced at him. That dete
rmination he’d come to know so well in such a short amount of time radiated from her beautiful blue eyes. She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. His lungs expanded, filled with a mixture of respect and pride. Gods, how he loved her.
Gwawl’s soft chuckle filled the empty silence. He stepped forward and rested his large palm on Damian’s back. A low, agonized cry burst from the gargoyle’s lips then cut short.
A foul, bitter taste coated the back of Zain’s throat. He preferred a fair fight and hated to see a man tortured while shackled. That was like sparring with one arm behind his back, something he never would have tolerated in the boxing ring.
Gwawl’s sinister smile turned his black eyes cold, and they reflected the crystal’s green light with an eerie glow. “When the crystal turns vibrant red and burns with power, the solar eclipse will be at its peak. With the bracelet on her wrist, bind Wynne to the crystal’s base and toss the old witch into its fire.”
“No, Zain. You can’t.” Feet planted shoulder-width apart, Wynne stood in his path. “I won’t let you harm Mom.”
Love for Wynne swept over him in a giant wave. There was no way he’d let anything happen to either of these witches. Resolve hardened deep inside, filling his soul with a determination that burned brighter than any star. He gripped her arm and rubbed his thumb over the golden cuff.
“Trust me,” he whispered.
She blinked. Her brow furrowed, and her eyes darted back and forth as she studied him. His stomach flipped while he waited for her decision. She licked her lips, and an almost imperceptible nod followed. The weight on his shoulders lifted.
Gwawl growled. “Do it now, fae, unless you want to follow Marco to Tech Duinn.”
In the past, the threat would’ve iced the hair at his nape. Now, though, the menacing words fueled his determination. He tugged Wynne and Victoria toward the green crystal.
The giant gem pulsed once again, the steady beat soft at first, but increasing in strength and speed with each step he took toward it until the ground shook with the force. A mere foot away, power from the deep green crystal settled into his bones, threatening to scatter them into tiny bits.
Zain met his god’s angry stare. With a sense of conviction strumming through his veins, he loosened his grip on Victoria, tugged the chain from around his neck, and grasped the key.
Wynne’s lips moved, and an odd chant filtered into the air, but he couldn’t decipher the words over the crystal’s loud hum. Victoria joined in, and the color in the spires swirled from an eerie green to a deep violet. A moment later, the water in the pool lapped against the crystal, and a hot, burning red filtered through the stone.
Now or never.
Love for her warmed his heart, and he yanked the key from the chain. As he reached for Wynne’s arm intent on unlocking the bracelet, she turned toward him and her elbow connected with his hand.
The key slipped from his fingers and bobbled off his palm.
As if in slow motion, the key bounced on the stone floor and into the crystal’s fire.
“No!” His breath hitched, and dread scaled down his spine with razor-sharp claws. Rage followed in hot pursuit, along with a conviction that bubbled from his very soul.
There was only one way to remove that bracelet now. He shoved Victoria toward Wynne. She caught the elder female in her arms, and her gaze riveted on him.
“I’ll always love you, Wynne, now rescue those gargoyles.” He smiled, giving her that sexy grin he knew she liked so well, and jumped into the fire.
Gwawl’s bellow of rage competed with Wynne’s agonized cry, both echoing through the chamber.
The stone’s internal flame licked greedily at his skin. Pain ricocheted through his body, and a scream tore from his lips, but his soul rejoiced. He’d sacrificed himself to save Wynne and her mother. At the very least, his action had given them a chance to save themselves. Together, they’d find a way to survive.
As his body fried to a crisp, his soul disappeared into the ether, the space between space.
A fitting end for a fae.
The golden cuff around Wynne’s wrist slipped to the floor and rolled to the edge of the pool, coming to rest in the dark water.
“If the one who enslaved you dies, then you’ll be free.” Neira’s comments repeated in Wynne’s mind.
Her heart shattered into a million shards, and a tortured cry erupted from her lips. Zain was gone. As the crystal’s power pulsated with a sickening beat, the thing seemed almost alive, taunting her with her grief.
The god’s shocked gaze remained glued to the pool, and his shoulders rose and fell with his heavy breaths.
“Mom, step away from the crystal.” Wynne urged her mother aside. “I’m going to bring it down.”
“You are my daughter, a once-in-ten-generations witch.” Pride vibrated in Victoria’s voice.
“Yes, I am.” A deep resolve burned right alongside Wynne’s anguish. She drew on her love for Zain, remembering his sexy smile, the way he cupped her cheek in his palm, and the determined look in his eyes as he learned to read.
She’d loved him, more than he could know, and for once in her life, a man had made her his number one priority, loving her in return. She wouldn’t let his sacrifice be in vain.
“Stop, witch.” Gwawl’s voice boomed across the room.
Her powers finally free from her confining bracelet, she focused her intense anger not at the god, but at the crystal, the manifestation of his dark soul. Drawing on all the information she’d gleaned from the ancient manual, she homed in on its weakest spot where the spikes protruded from the core.
“Marna aru, aesto con rea.” She whispered the words she’d learned from the ancient text.
A buzz started in her ear, and the vibration reverberated into her chest and along her arms until her fingers glowed a vibrant white. From the depths of her soul, the powers and knowledge from eons of witches past flowed through her veins. Understanding of her role came to her in an instant and answered all her questions. She was the conduit from previous generations chosen to use the full force of all their combined magic.
“Marna aru, aesto con rea.” At long last, she unleashed her power, and electricity shot from her fingertips and into the crystal.
The large gem flared, absorbing the energy.
Gwawl’s dark laughter reverberated off the walls.
Doubt prickled Wynne’s soul, but she focused on the memory of Zain, his smile, and his gorgeous hazel eyes. Love spread throughout her heart. Flecks of beautiful yellow-gold, the color of her once-hated bracelet flowed from her fingertips and encircled the crystal.
A shrill whine emanated from the gem.
Gwawl growled. “You will remove that barrier or die, witch.”
Wynne glanced over her shoulder. Feet planted on the path’s floorboards, her mother held up her palms, her features strained.
A thin, translucent wall separated the god from them both.
“Keep going, Wynne. It’s working,” Victoria gasped.
The golden flecks traveled along the chains, leaving a pile of melted steel in their wake.
Wynne’s stomach fluttered. Maybe they could save the gargoyles.
The muscles in her arms and legs quivered as fatigue set in. In the back of her mind, she realized she might not survive the energy drain, but she didn’t care, her resolve to rescue the gargoyles and honor Zain in the process fed her powers.
She returned her attention to the large gem and her memories of Zain—his tender touch, his devoted attention, his thoughtful gifts. Love poured from her even as tears streaked down her cheeks.
“I will not be denied.” A loud boom echoed through the room.
Several pebbles and a large chunk of the roof crashed onto the floor.
Wynne’s connection to the crystal dimmed, and its haunting light surged under her golden flecks. She widened her stance, squared her shoulders, and poured her entire heart and soul into her energy.
For Zain…
The electri
cal stream from her fingertips grew in strength and intensity, the white light intertwining with the gold sparks cocooning the evil rock in a blanket of pristine energy.
Cheers and shouts of encouragement from the gargoyles rose in magnitude.
The creak of steel bending reverberated around the room. A door to one of the gargoyle’s crates skidded across the floor. The metal crashed into the crystal and disappeared in the cold fire.
From the corner of her eye, Wynne caught a glimpse of Damian. He gripped the manacles at his wrists and tossed what remained of the dissolving metal to the ground. A war cry erupted from his lips.
Hope flared inside Wynne.
Through the open doorway, a horde of fae swept into the room.
“Fae, I command you. Attack!” Gwawl’s voice rippled by on a strong breeze.
The hiss of several fae joined in the cacophony, and the gargoyles battled the fae.
The large rock pulsed at an alarming rate. Blinding light jabbed pinpricks of pain behind Wynne’s eyes.
Against her will, she took a step forward and another, as if drawn to the crystal under a magnetic force. She fought against the drag, but her feet continued on their path even as the energy continued to flow from her fingertips.
Numbness tingled up her legs and into her torso, and a strange sense of peace washed over her. She’d follow Zain into the fire to free the remaining gargoyles. Love for Zain and his sacrifice swelled inside, and she poured all the energy she had left into one giant ball of devotion.
Golden flecks spewed from her fingertips in a shower of light.
Wynne collapsed to her knees. Pain flared down her shins.
The crystal exploded.
Minuscule shards of the broken gem trickled through the air, blanketing the room in a rainbow of colors.
Wynne had never seen anything so beautiful.
Through the fine powdery mist, dark shadows emerged from the gargoyles’ open crates. Not even a foot tall and nebulous in shape, they sprouted feet and scurried through the cracks in the stone, disappearing from sight.
The back of Wynne’s neck prickled. What were they?
Cocooned in a bubble, Mom on the inside with her, the elder witch held up her hands, maintaining the protection spell. She smiled. “I knew you could do it. I’m so proud of you, Wynne.”