“I know,” she replies softly, gaze dropping to the floor as she takes a breath. When she looks back to me, she seems more in control. “It’s fine. It was just awkward, and there were mixed feelings.”
“Mixed feelings about what?” Maddox asks, a hint of ice in his tone. He may not know the details about Zora and Amell having been intimate, but I’m thinking he’s figuring it out now.
Of course, Zora doesn’t understand things like jealousy, so her expression turns confused.
I don’t have time for a lover’s quarrel that might erupt—although it might not because, like Zora, Maddox has insisted this is just casual—so I redirect the conversation.
Turning back to Carrick, I nod at the lariat he holds. “He wants us to try to contain her versus kill her. Maybe he’s pushing that because he’s feeling guilty for providing us information. He didn’t tell us much we didn’t already know, but, to him, that’s a betrayal to his queen and if Amell is anything, he’s loyal to her.”
“We can’t trust what he says,” Carrick says gravely.
“No, you can’t,” Zora agrees bitterly. And I know she’s referring to the fact he lied to her about her heritage, making her believe she was an orphan instead of someone who had a family who deeply loved her.
“We’ll bring the lariat and use it to help dampen her powers,” Carrick muses. “But the end goal is still the same. We destroy Kymaris in our effort to stop the prophecy.”
“Agreed,” I reply.
“Agreed,” Zora adds. More than anyone in this room, Zora has the most to hate Kymaris for. If she wants the queen dead, I’m going to happily do everything in my power to ensure it’s done.
CHAPTER 25
Finley
The morning of October 7th dawns strangely bright and sunny for the prospect of doom in the coming hours. Carrick and I stay in bed, ignoring the world and all the problems waiting outside our door. Tonight at midnight, life changes. It’s possibly our last day together, and not even a full day at that since we’ll be starting preparations for our battle tonight.
Carrick wakes me up with a slow kiss that feels like the sunrise and all the hope and freshness one normally brings. It turns deep and possessive, and I’d let it continue for eternity but we must stop because it’s not just about us. I curl into his body, skin against skin, pressing my nose into his chest and inhaling deeply. He smells of comfort and strength, devotion and eternity. When I’m reincarnated, I wonder if I will inherently miss this, since I know what it feels like now?
Carrick’s hand idly strokes my shoulder, his breathing steady and even. He’s abnormally quiet, and I know his heart is heavy with what might happen to me in mere hours.
“If I die,” I murmur into the quiet between us.
Carrick sighs, but doesn’t try to stop me. We talk about death and our future almost every day. It’s not taboo, but I know I’m interrupting his simple pleasure of laying here with me.
“If I die,” I repeat again, pressing my cheek to his chest. “Promise me you’ll keep battling on. You won’t give up.”
“You know I won’t.” I actually hear the words in his chest where they sound low and gravelly, but they’re coming directly from the heart. “And I’ll protect Zora, Rainey, and Myles. I’ll take them to another realm if I have to.”
“And you’ll find me again,” I say, a simple validation that I believe in our destiny together.
“I will most certainly find you again,” he agrees, his arm tightening around me.
My hand comes up, my fingers gliding over his sternum and down his stomach. A lazy stroke—the pleasure of touching him a gift. Profound sadness wells within me, that life as Carrick and I know it will change very soon. These good days are done.
I’m sad for the pain Carrick will feel when I die, whether it’s in trying to stop the prophecy from coming true or in the ensuing days, months, or, if we’re lucky, years that Rune might choose to give us.
There’s no sadness for me, though. I accepted I have many potential fates coming my way, all of which end in death.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel.
I feel too much.
“I’m scared,” I admit to Carrick, glad my eyes can follow the path my fingers are taking down his stomach so I don’t have to let him see the slight bit of shame that admission causes.
He’ll never let that statement pass without looking me in the eyes, though. He rolls me to my back, propping on an elbow to hover over me. His free hand cups my jaw, and his golden eyes are swimming with empathy.
It’s too much to handle, and I’m forced to look away.
His hand tightens on my jaw, a command to grace him with my attention. My eyes slowly come back to his.
“Life is so fragile,” he murmurs gently. “No stronger than glass. And it seems from the moment I met you in this lifetime, that was something you inherently accepted. You lost your parents, and you understood how fleeting it all is. The strength you’ve shown these last few months, especially after learning about this sacrifice you’ll have to bear, is greater than some of history’s bravest warriors. Time and time again, you’ve acknowledged that fate will not take a backseat, and you’ve faced it head-on with not only brute confidence, but also with a graciousness that comes from the beauty of your heart. It’s because your heart is so fucking big and loves so goddamned generously that you’ve been marching forward to greet your destiny without ever taking a moment to be scared. And now… you’re taking it, and I’m here for it. I’m here to shoulder the burden with you. I’ll take on all of your worries, pain, and fear if you’ll let me. I will continually remind you that you brought a demi-god to his knees time and time again, and you are more magnificent than all the gods put together. It’s with that knowledge I know I’ll have to let you go until I find that shining star again. Until then, I hope it’s enough that I will be by your side every step of the way. And if the fates are kind to us, hopefully I’ll be holding you as you leave this world to wait for me in the next.”
My eyes, of course, are swimming with tears. They slip from the outer corners, hit my temples, and slide behind my ears. They tickle as they travel over my skin. Strangely, they ground me just a little.
Carrick doesn’t make a move to wipe them away. He wants me to let them out.
He bends closer, his eyes so intense I couldn’t look away if I wanted to. “I don’t want you to die tonight, Finley. But if you do, I need you to know that I’ll never be more proud of anyone in my life when it happens. It will be a travesty that humanity will never know the lengths to which you’ve gone to save them all. You won’t be memorialized in history, but you are forever etched on my soul. That’s all that really matters.”
“I love you,” I whisper, putting my hands to the sides of his face and pulling him to me for a kiss.
And it starts warm and bright like the sunshine. Ultimately, when he’s done with me, I see nothing but stars.
It’s only after we take a shower together, get dressed, and head into the kitchen that I start to lose the warm fuzzies Carrick produced. I know I have to start mentally preparing for the fight ahead. But before that, I need just a little bit more time for one last gathering in the kitchen while Zaid feeds us.
Me, Carrick, Zora, Rainey, Myles, Maddox, Zaid, and Boral.
The Dream Team.
I think I can speak for the group when I say none of us really have an appetite, but we need fuel for the long and arduous hours ahead of us.
As it’s mid-morning, there’s nothing more appropriate than brunch while enjoying these last moments of camaraderie. After, we’ll make the roughly two-hour drive toward Lake Wenatchee, where we’ll set up a good mile out from the ritual site in a deeply wooded area Maddox had scouted. Currently, Carrick has allies stationed around the general vicinity of where the ritual will take place to watch for Kymaris and her forces. They’re hidden in trees or with magical glamours, their only job to watch and report. We have no clue when Kymaris will start to set up,
but we want to know as soon as she does.
So far, it’s been quiet.
Zaid lays out an amazing feast—Belgian waffles with fresh cream and strawberries, thick-cut bacon crisped to perfection, two different types of quiche, croissants for Zora, and a variety of cold cuts and broiled tomatoes for a bit of a European flair. We load up our plates, take our usual spots around the island, and eat.
The first bite of bacon stimulates my appetite, especially as I realize this could be my last real meal, the protein bars and electrolyte drinks we’re bringing with us not really counting as more than sustenance.
This gathering is obviously different. We don’t joke and banter. Zaid can’t even gather up enough antagonism to level a glare at Boral.
We are all resigned that we have the fight of our lives ahead of us.
“The condo has protections,” Carrick reminds Rainey and Myles, who will be staying well clear of the ritual for their own safety and our peace of minds. “But if you wanted to head out of town, that would be even safer.”
Rainey smiles with a short nod, but Myles says, “I’ve been working on something for you guys.” He bends to the side of his stool, pulling the canvas satchel he always carries onto his lap. From within, he pulls out a small drone. Way smaller than others I’ve seen people use. He sets it gently on the counter to the side of his plate, then smiles proudly down at it.
“Nice,” Maddox says, pushing up off his stool and moving closer to inspect it.
Myles proceeds to explain the drone and some fancy micro camera he has mounted on it. The beauty of it is in how small it is, which means it’s probably whisper quiet.
“It can be flown over the clearing, and the night vision camera can project live stream right to your phones. In the heat of things, you can get play-by-play through comms. I have earpieces—one for Carrick, Maddox, and Titus.”
“Why us?” Maddox asks, moving back to his place at the island to eat.
I take the liberty of answering because it’s common sense. “You and Carrick are our two strongest warriors. Titus is incredibly battle-tested. The most important ones out there. You can take the information and pivot strategies as needed.”
“What she said,” Myles quips as he cuts into his waffle, taking a big bite.
“It’s amazing,” I commend Myles.
“But who will fly it?” Carrick asks pointedly.
“I will.” Myles and Rainey exchange a glance, and it’s clear they’ve talked about this already.
My tone is hesitant, not wanting to offend. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“It will be incredibly dangerous,” Carrick adds. “While I’m assuming you can fly that thing some place away from the action, you’d still be close enough to be in danger. You won’t be able to take on the weakest daemon if you’re discovered.”
“Then I won’t be discovered,” Myles replies confidently.
I look at Rainey. “And you’re good with this?”
Putting on a brave face, she nods. “I am. I think Myles can really help. I’ll just curl up here with some popcorn and watch a movie. When you all come back, we’ll have a big victory party.”
I know Rainey. She’s not cool with this at all, but she is showing support to her husband because she knows this is important to him.
Carrick swivels to look my way. He doesn’t say a word, but he wants to know if I have qualms about this, because if I do, he’ll be the bad guy and shut it down. But even though it terrifies me to have Myles anywhere near this, I realize it’s something he really feels the need to do. He’s part of the team, and has been from the start.
I can’t deny him.
I tip my head slightly, and Carrick understands my assent. He looks the other way toward Myles and praises, “This is really great. You’ll be the best pair of eyes we have on the situation once the fighting starts. From overhead, you’ll be able to keep tabs on Kymaris so we know when to roll in our secret weapon.”
The secret weapon being me.
Except I’m not so secret and not exactly a weapon.
But we have a plan, which is quite simple. We’re going to throw as much power and strength at her as we can, disrupt the ritual, and distract her with our fiercest warriors—Carrick and Maddox leading the crush. Two demi-gods against Kymaris and the Blood Stone should be enough to keep her occupied so I can come in and use the lariat Amell gave us to dampen her strength. Then it’s a matter of getting the Blood Stone. Bonus points if I can kill her with iron, but if she’s immune to it, Carrick is confident we can use the stone to destroy her.
“Easy-peasy,” I say lightheartedly, but we all know it’s going to be anything but easy.
I make one last-ditch effort to appeal to my sister’s sensibilities. Swiveling on my stool, I turn to Zora, who is already on her second croissant.
“You could stay here, too,” I suggest hopefully.
She glances at me, scowls, and goes back to eating. I take that as a “no,” but I’m not surprised. She’s been adamant that she wants to be there with us. She’s hoping there will be some way she can contribute, but I know what she’s really wishing for.
That her powers will manifest so she can make a true difference in my fight.
That she can help me defeat Kymaris, because she has a stake of retribution in all of this.
Reaching out, I touch her shoulder. It’s an acceptance of her decision, and her scowl turns into a smile. My heart flushes warmly when she brings her hand up, and it briefly comes to rest on top of mine. Zora is finally getting used to human touch and affection.
After lunch, we finish our last-minute packing. Rainey goes to the gym with me so I can grab some throwing knives for my thigh holsters. It’s a private moment we both need together.
She quietly watches me gather the knives and then peruse some of my other weapons. I’ll obviously have my whip, but I’m feeling the pressure to load up with more. I don’t consider any of the guns Zaid and Boral purchased as I don’t know how to use them.
With a sigh, I turn away from the cabinets.
I freeze in place when I take in Rainey, who has tears streaming down her face.
“Oh no,” I drawl with sympathy, rushing to take her in my arms. “No, no, no. Don’t cry. I’m going to be fine.”
“I know,” she croaks as she squeezes me tight and nods her head. “I know.”
“I swear.”
“I know.”
Both of us ignore the blatant lies we’re offering the other. Instead, we just hug each other tightly.
Our goodbyes.
* * *
It’s almost one when we meet up with Titus, Deandra, and Rebsha at a preset point deep in the woods north of Fish Lake. We’re eleven hours out from when the ritual will supposedly start—if Amell was telling the truth—but we have a lot of work to do to get ready.
Between the Light Fae Rebsha was able to muster, the Brevalians who did indeed agree to fight with us, and the handful of light and dark daemons who like the Earth realm just the way it is, we had close to a hundred willing to lay down their lives if necessary.
Unfortunately, it probably wasn’t enough. We suspect Kymaris is not going to come to the ritual with just the power of the Blood Stone. It would be needed to tear the veil down, not protect the ritual. We assume Kymaris will show up with hundreds of daemons and Dark Fae also willing to lay their lives down in support of her.
Since her army is heavy on daemons who don’t possess magic and are frailer than fae and annihilators, we hope that fact will make the difference. She had a hard time collecting her original Fallen Dark Fae, so we’re banking on the same for those descended from the originals.
We hope beyond hope we are at least evenly matched given the quality of our warriors, even if they have more in quantity.
It’s a lot to depend on hope, but it is all we have.
Because we hiked into our arranged meeting spot, which was still a mile through thick woods to the ritual spot, there wasn’t really
anywhere to get comfortable. I sit on the ground with my back against a thick tree, nervously twining my fingers. Boral lounges on the pine-needled floor as if he frequently hangs out in the woods, and Zaid paces nervously nearby. My eyes keep cutting to the core group of strategists and warriors who are ironing out and making any last revisions to the game plan.
Deandra is admittedly magnificent in battle armor that actually still looks feminine. Her black hair is in a high ponytail on top of her head, and she looks both beautiful and terrifying at the same time. She has reiterated on more than one occasion that Pyke is hers to take care of.
Rebsha is similarly dressed, but his look is far from feminine. His muscles are on full display, and the genial advisor to Queen Nimeyah is gone—replaced by a warrior.
Titus is in dark leather pants and a sleeveless leather vest, with an array of weapons attached. Carrick and Maddox are more modern, dressed in all-black fatigues and long-sleeved shirts, their sturdy combat boots making them both look badass.
Even though she won’t actively participate, Zora stands with them, listening intently as they go over their strategies. She’s wearing a pair of comfortable workout clothes in black, same as me.
She has her hair in a braid, also same as me, but because hers almost glows at night since it’s so white, she has a black knit cap on to dampen it.
The rest of the forces are scattered deeper in the woods, managed for the moment by the leaders of the two Brevalian tribes. Caiden has the annihilators set up and ready to go. Myles is with Titus’ wife, Priya, who will bring him closer when it’s time to set his drone into the air.
“You ready for this, Savior?” Boral asks in a lazy tone. Out of all of us, he’s the most laid back about all of this. I expect it’s because he’s killed so many people and creatures in his lifetime that death is nothing more than an ordinary day for him.
“Are you?” I return, crossing one outstretched leg over the other.
Boral shrugs a shoulder. “We all got to die sometime.”
“Except you’re immortal and I’m not,” I point out. “Your laissez fair attitude works better for you.”
The Rise of Fortune and Fury Page 26