“Oh?” Mab said. “Request?”
“Leave William alone.” Holly lifted her chin. “Name your terms.”
Will made a gurgle of protest. Gently, Holly touched his cold cheek, and Will’s gaze held hers. “Stay down,” she said in a low voice. “This is my fight.”
His nostrils flared, the expression on his face shifting towards stubborn refusal. But then he gave an almost imperceptible nod. Love, gratitude, and protectiveness flooded her and gave her strength. This man. He knew her. He was her partner in all things. And she would not lose him again.
In a single move, Holly rose and spun to face Mab.
“Now dear girl,” Mab said with a patronizing smile, “no male is worth such upset. Do the sensible thing and never become attached to one.”
“As you did not become attached to Aidan? So desperate for his affections that you forced a man who did not desire you into your bed.”
Mab’s eyes flared dark purple fire as she sneered. “He was being unreasonable. As are you.”
The fae stiffened as Holly’s fists clenched. “Do not,” Mab suggested, “make threatening gestures towards me, young one. You shall not like the consequences.”
Holly smiled then. This fae believed her to be a rational creature, ruled by logic. Perhaps once. But not today. “As you dared to threaten William?” Holly stalked forward. “You dared lay a finger on him, after we played your game?”
“His very presence here insults me. I am Mab. I shall not be made to look a fool by a lowly sanguis turned even lower human.” Her expression turned mulish. “And I cannot say I am pleased by your lack of gratitude for the gift I bestowed to you.”
Ah, yes, her “gift.” As soon as William had left her, Mab had informed Holly that, because of her kinship and the trials she had to face by being stuck with the sanguis, Holly could have the gift of immortality. It had been the height of cruelty, to make Will a human while forcing Holly to live an eternity without him.
Holly had said as much, and Mab, in a fit of pique, had made the gift irreversible. The bitch.
Holly’s anger burned hotter now. “If it’s gratitude you’re wanting, pray look elsewhere. Only a fool would desire a ‘gift’ from you.”
Mab’s nostrils flared. She cuffed Holly on the face, sending her to her knees.
A roar rang out, and Will staggered to his feet and grabbed the fae about the throat. Though human, Will was not weak. He shook her like a rag before tossing her far. But Mab landed upon light feet.
And she laughed. “I see lessons are in order.”
She snapped her fingers, and Holly heard the sickening crack of Will’s arm bone. Instantly, Will’s body went rigid, a scream pushing through his clenched teeth. Mab snapped again, and Will toppled, his legs bent at unnatural angles.
Chapter Thirty-Five
No more!” Holly shouted, stalking towards Mab.
With a bored expression, the fae lifted a hand and sent a wave of power through the air. Holly tumbled back, skidding until she stopped at the edge of the train platform. And Will, human and vulnerable, flopped about on the ground as Mab continued to break his bones one by one.
Rage, blind and all-encompassing, lit through Holly. She welcomed it, letting it fuel her. Looming behind her was a great, black steam engine. The massive iron locomotive began to shake upon the track, the sound of metal groaning then tearing with a series of sharp screeches. Holly narrowed her focus, and the iron panels along the engine ripped free. They flew through the air and landed before Will, clanging as they formed a wall around him. Higher and higher, blocking him from Mab and her power.
Struggling to her feet, Holly pulled more iron. A violent rattle sounded around the platform, ominous and strained.
Mab glanced about, taking in the wrought-iron fence dividing the wide platform that lay between two tracks. The iron posts began to quiver. And her gaze narrowed. Iron was quite deadly to the fae, and they both knew it. “You would not dare.”
Holly flicked her wrists. The iron spears on the fence flew through the air in a blur. Mab screamed as they slammed into her, throwing her back and impaling her upon the stone wall of the station’s entrance.
Breathing through her teeth, Mab hissed at Holly. “Insolent little—”
Another sliver of iron caught the fae in the neck, going in deep enough to cut off her words but not yet her head.
Holly stopped before the woman. Mab snarled, unable to move against the iron spears. The metal was doing its work, leaching into her body, poisoning her blood and weakening her.
“You ought to have chosen a safer place to launch your attack,” Holly advised. “Or did you assume that I would not fight back? That I would cower and fear you?”
Mab’s expression promised retribution and pain.
“Now you listen to me,” Holly said with quiet conviction. “You will never touch William Thorne, nor any of his kith and kin, again. You will never contact me or interfere with my life, either directly or indirectly, again.”
The fae uttered a noise that might have been a snort before glaring back at Holly.
Holly stared into those ancient eyes without fear. “You may have more power, and perhaps one day, you’ll have the luck to catch me unaware. But you do not have my resolve. You come between me and mine again, and I will slice you into ribbons so slowly, it will take agonizing hours for this mortal shell you now wear to die. And when I am done, I’ll send you back without another thought for you. I’ll do it over and over. I will not stop defending what is mine.”
Mab bared her teeth. She could not respond, however, not with the iron bar lodged in her throat.
Holly didn’t flinch or blink. “Am I clear?”
Resentful capitulation filled Mab’s eyes. Holly waved her hand, and the iron shards sliced through the fae’s flesh like it was suet. On a garbled cry, the fae’s head fell off, her body breaking apart in a mess of limbs and gore before it sizzled and bubbled an instant later. Before the iron finished falling to the ground, her remains were nothing more than a pile of ash.
Holly turned heel and ran back to Will, flinging the iron panels aside with a flick of her wrist. Will lay on his side, shaking.
“William.” Her knees hit the pavement, and she reached for him, half frightened to touch him and cause more pain. White streaks shot down from the crown of his head, growing thicker and thicker, until the brown was gone.
“William?” she whispered.
Snarling, he reared back, and the light of the moon shone down through the glass ceiling and upon his face. Platinum. Razor sharp fangs extended from his open mouth. And then he simply sagged in on himself. The platinum faded away as if on a breath. For a moment, neither of them spoke, until he lifted his head and looked at her with demon black eyes.
A sob of relief broke from her. “Are you well?”
“I’ve had better nights.” He glanced over at Mab’s mortal remains and then back to Holly. His firm lips twitched, but his eyes remained tired and wary. “Destroying the fae queen will likely bring wrath upon your head.”
“I did not destroy her. I sent her back to her world. She’ll have to find another way to return here, and make another body.” The thought of Mab returning made Holly shudder. But Will was safe and whole. And so was she.
Slowly he stood, extending a hand to help her up. Around them, the station filled up with people once more, all of them bustling about as if they’d always been there. Shocked voices broke out as people took in the skinned steam engine.
Ignoring them all, Will only had eyes for her, his expression almost stern. “My brave, clever love.” He tugged her into his arms and held her tight. For a moment they simply breathed, his lips against her hair, her nose burrowed in the warm crook of his neck. Her palm flattened against his chest where his mechanical heart once again pumped away.
A wave of despair hit her. “What shall we do about you?” Though she was once again in balance, he was not.
“Petal, my capitulation to Mab was n
ever about saving myself. It was about saving you.” Will’s hand came to rest over hers. “Watch.”
Before her eyes, his hand went pure platinum and then back again to pale flesh.
Holly raised her head. “What does it mean?”
Though fatigue lined his face, his smile was cheeky. “Do you know, I’ve been sitting around that drafty old house pretending to be a marquis and having nothing to do.”
“William,” she threatened.
He laughed, a light, happy sound. “I’m getting there, love. I must have been thinking of you in some capacity, for I found myself reading scientific tomes. And there was this volume by that chap Darwin.”
“You read Darwin?” Really, the thought of Will Thorne sitting quietly reading like a studious scholar was shock enough.
“Mmm.” Wrapping an arm about her shoulders, he tucked her close and walked them away from Mab’s ashes. “And he had this interesting theory on evolution.”
“I’ve read it.”
“Always interrupting.” Will shook his head, grinning wide. “It occurs to me just now that perhaps I haven’t been dying but evolving. A true marriage of science and nature. Why fight this new step? When fighting it has only brought me pain.”
Holly stopped short. “That is your great epiphany? William Thorne, you have no proof—”
He kissed her, slow and leisurely. When she melted into him, he pulled back. “I’ve gone entirely metal many times now and still have my sanity. In truth, I’ve had control over myself since I destroyed the Nex elders. And the change to metal stopped hurting just after the Alamut let me go.” He shrugged. “That’s good enough for now.”
Though she could voice various counter-theories and objections, Holly found herself smiling. “I missed you.”
“Well I didn’t, couldn’t, you see,” he teased, laughing when she poked his ribs. Then he sobered. “And I was in hell.”
He kissed her once more. Softly. “I love you, Holly.”
“I love you, William.” Gently, she unwound his cravat and found her star-shaped mark upon his neck. She kissed the spot with possessive pride and utter contentment. And he returned the favor, nuzzling the little thorn upon her neck before tucking her once more against his side and guiding her down the platform.
“Where are we going?” Holly asked as they walked out of the station and into the clear night.
His grip on her tightened. “Home, petal mine. We’re going home.”
Epilogue
Seven months earlier, London
Once upon a time, superstitious humans would bury those who died by their own hand at the crossroads. Six feet under with a spike through their hearts so that the dead would not rise. The dead, humans realized on some level, did not always stay dead. Sometimes, they changed into immortals. And while humans thought of a crossroad as a simple intersection, it was something far more powerful. A real crossroad was, in actuality, a gateway to other worlds.
Victoria Station, London’s massive homage to locomotive transport, was once such a crossroad. And while the old crossroad was buried under brick and mortar, glass and steel, it still operated as a gateway.
As Adam strolled down a train platform, hands tucked into the pockets of his fine wool trousers that went with his fine English suit, he could not ignore that his freedom had come to an end. He had tried to break his curse, and he had failed. Time to pay the piper, as it were.
Around him travelers went about their business, thinking Adam nothing more than an ordinary gentleman waiting for the train. He waited for something far worse. And far too soon a sickly, yellow-green fog began to roll in, snaking along the track gullies and up onto the platform. No one took notice. London was often plagued by “pea soup” fog. Little did the humans know that this certain color fog heralded evil.
Inside his pockets, Adam’s fists tightened against the urge to smash something. He focused on a distant spot, where a woman was gliding along, her green skirts swishing through the fog. The closer she came, the harder his heart beat. There would be pain, humiliation. An eternity of it. He did not want to be afraid; he loathed the idea. But he was.
The woman came into focus, her smile glinting with a sly bit of fang, her eyes a dark, smoky purple. He wanted to retch.
“I thought you might run,” she said as she stopped before him. The scent of earth and green things surrounded him. Since it was her scent, it turned his stomach.
“I never run.” He’d fight, but that was different.
She smiled, and the sweet visage she wore dropped for a mere instant, showing him her true form, the green tint of her skin, the black lips, and pointed teeth. Fae. Not beautiful and gentle, but ugly and cruel. “I’ve waited a long time for this, Cù-Sìth.”
It had been a long time since anyone had called him Cù-Sìth, the dark hound, harbinger of death. Knowing she’d revel in it, Adam refrained from flinching at the moniker.
“I’m certain you have, Queen Mab,” Adam said as though he were without care.
Her simper fell. “Aodh MacNiall of Moray, ye have failed to bond with your soul’s true mate.”
“True.” Quite the burn to discover that his other half found him repugnant. And now he’d never know how it felt to be complete. He’d never know peace.
Mab licked her lips, a greedy flick of her tongue. “Thus your soul is in forfeit. To me.”
About the Author
Kristen Callihan is a child of the eighties, which means she’s worn neon skirts, black lace gloves, and combat boots (although never all at once), and can quote John Hughes’s movies with the best of them. A lifelong daydreamer, she finally realized that the characters in her head needed a proper home and thus hit the keyboard. She believes that falling in love is one of the headiest experiences a person can have, so naturally she writes romance. Her love of superheroes, action movies, and history has led her to write historical paranormals. Kristen lives in the Washington, DC, area and, when not writing, she looks after two children, one husband, and a dog—the fish can fend for themselves.
You can learn more at:
KristenCallihan.com
Twitter @Kris10Callihan
Facebook.com/KristenCallihan
Also by Kristen Callihan
Firelight
Ember (short story)
Moonglow
Winterblaze
Entwined (short story)
Shadowdance
Evernight
Praise for the
Darkest London Series
Shadowdance
“4½ stars! Callihan spins a spellbinding web that entangles readers in a complex, carefully plotted story of great emotional depth, heated sexual tension, dark adventure, and stunning surprises… Callihan’s talents continue to grow, and her heart-stopping stories just keep getting better and better. Prepare to be awestruck.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Top pick! From page one, Kristen Callihan had me. She weaved a tale so powerful, so compelling, that I had no choice but to follow it through to the end… It’s a rare talent, being able to do that, but Callihan has it.”
—NightOwlReviews.com
“Callihan’s solid world-building draws the reader into 1885 London from the first page [and] her lyrical writing will have readers racing to the thrilling finish.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Kristen Callihan most definitely delivers. Longtime fans of the series finally get to see the enigmatic Jack Talent take his turn as hero, and Mary Chase, bless her clockwork heart, is more than up for the job of heroine. When two people are absolutely perfect for each other, it makes for a romance like no other.”
—HeroesandHeartbreakers.com
“Grade: A. The sexual tension between Jack and Mary is thick enough to drip off the pages… The Darkest London series is one that everyone should be reading… It is hard to put it into one category, but if I was forced, [that] category would be pure excellence. If you aren’t reading these books you should be!”
—FictionVixen.com
Winterblaze
“Top Pick! 4½ stars! Like all good things, Callihan just keeps getting better and better. The third installment in the Darkest London series is not only a gripping novel, but also one that elevates the genre with its depth of emotion, passion, and mesmerizing storytelling. Callihan doesn’t just create worlds, she moves readers into them with unforgettable characters and stunning revelations. Once begun, it’s impossible to put down Winterblaze.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Pulse-pounding… Callihan masterfully toggles between Winston and Poppy’s meeting in Victoria Station in 1873 and their present day in 1883, building an intricate world and solid romantic tension. An epilogue will whet reader appetites for future installments.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Dark, dangerous, and totally enthralling, this latest edition to Callihan’s Darkest London series treats fans to a heart-tugging, satisfying romance, fills in a few series blanks with well-handled flashbacks, and nicely sets the stage for stories that are sure to come.”
—Library Journal
“Page-turner is an understatement in describing Winterblaze. Readers will be hard pressed to put this book down once the opening scene unfolds… Another Perfect 10 by Ms. Callihan, and I very highly recommend reading this entire series.”
—RomRevtoday.com
Moonglow
“Action-packed… This richly textured tale of 19th-century London interweaves intricately imagined and historically accurate scenes with red-hot sensual interludes. Like the first, a deeply compelling and imaginative story.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“4½ stars! Top pick! Darkest London glows with the light of Callihan’s creativity in the second installment of her unforgettable paranormal series. With a strong, sensually charged conflict, intense emotions, chilling suspense and thrilling action, readers will enjoy this haunting tale. Callihan sets the mark for a new style of paranormal historical.”
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