by Vivian Wood
All around her, bodies fell to the ground. The Fury didn’t care if they were friend or foe; she only wanted to protect her mate, her love. Her song burned bright and high, shaking her body, pulling Alice free of the flimsy human form she’d worn her whole life. She keenly felt the separation of her soul from her body, but she couldn’t have stopped it if she’d tried.
Her song finished on a lovely, haunting note, ripping Alice away from the human realm in a final, painful pull. She glimpsed Aeric lying on his side, saw his chest rising and falling, and was satisfied. If she must die, at least she’d saved her fated mate.
Alice let go, let herself be pulled through the thickening air and beyond the Veil.
Her final act was complete.
10
Chapter Ten
Aeric woke with a ragged roar bursting from his throat. He pushed at the bedclothes clinging to his arms and legs, frantic. Heart pounding, his dragon and bear raging, he was in a state of pure panic.
“Alice!” he shouted.
He was in a strange bedroom, tucked into the bed tighter than a mummy. The whole room was done in pure white; the smell of astringent chemicals told him that he was in some kind of hospital.
“Where am I?” he demanded to know. “Where’s Alice?”
“Do not shift again,” Mere Marie said, appearing next to the bed. She held a damp washcloth in her hand, casting a critical eye over him. “And quit moving around so much. You’re badly wounded.”
She was right about the last part. Pain ripped through the right side of his body, and when he managed to get the comforter off his body he saw that he was bandaged from ribs to hip bone.
As Aeric examined his wounds, Marie turned and called over her shoulder to a nurse, “Get Dr. Khouri! He's awake!"
"Where is Alice?" Aeric repeated, plucking at the tubes taped to his forearms and wrists.
Mere Marie opened her mouth hesitantly, giving Aeric a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, but before she could answer, a pretty Middle Eastern woman in a white doctor’s coat burst into the room.
“Ah, you're awake. I knew you'd come around sooner rather than later," she said in a crisp British accent. "I am Dr. Khouri, and you are at Full Moon General, the paranormal hospital in the Grey Market. Stop pulling at your IVs, if you please. It took the nurses ages to get those in because you wouldn't stop shifting forms. Now let's get a blood pressure on you."
Under the doctor’s gentle but persistent care, Aeric was forced to sit back and wait for her to finish. Once she checked all his vital signs and seemed satisfied, he asked again.
"Where's my mate? Where's Alice?" He wasn't proud of the pleading tone in his voice, but he was growing desperate for answers.
The doctor sucked in a little breath, her mouth turning down at the corners.
"I'm afraid I can't let you see her yet. You're not well enough to leave this bed, and your mate isn't awake yet."
There was a flash of something in her eyes, something that told Aeric that he wasn't getting the full story. He looked to Mere Marie and saw the same thing in her expression.
"What do you mean, not awake?” he asked.
Mere Marie reached out and placed a hand on top of his.
"When she saw that you are wounded, she went through something… Well, we’re not exactly sure. But it was traumatic. There was a great flash of light, and then everyone dropped to the ground. Alice’s doing, we’re pretty sure. Every single one of our enemies was dead as a door nail, and the rest of us were knocked out cold. You and Alice are the last to revive, I'm afraid."
Grimacing, Aeric moved and started to swing his legs off the bed.
"Take the IVs out, or I will rip them out," he said, desperately trying to keep his cool. "I'm going to see her right now, with or without your help."
Mere Marie and the doctor exchanged a look. After a moment, Dr. Khouri gave a brisk nod and began to disconnect the tubing.
"Wait let me —" the doctor tried, but the second he was free Aeric was on his feet, halfway out the door.
Mere Marie was on his heels, steering him to the right as he padded down the hallway in his bare feet. It occurred to him that he was wearing some kind of flimsy hospital gown and likely looked like a wild man. That wasn’t entirely wrong though, was it? He felt wild without his mate.
Alice's room was only a few doors down from his. When he swung the door open, he found Cassie and Echo sitting in visitors’ chairs on the far side of the hospital bed. Alice was garbed in the same thin cotton robe as he was, laid out on the bed just as she'd been when he found her in the glass coffin.
She looked as though she'd been prepared for her own funeral. Her long, dark hair lay around her in a silky mass; her skin was unnaturally pale, her lips too bright, her eyes closed. Aeric stumbled to her bed, reaching out to take her hands.
"She's cold," he uttered. Turning his head back to look at the doctor, who was in the doorway behind him, he asked, "why is she cold?"
The doctor gave a soft sigh.
"We're not certain," she admitted. "It's not a coma… And she still breathing. She's just… Not coming back to us as we expected her to."
"We've tried everything we can think of so far," Mere Marie said. "No one seems to know what this is."
Aeric gave a stiff nod, looking down at Alice. She was so perfectly still, except for the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.
"It's a curse. She tried to tell me…" His voice broke. "She said a Fury’s mate brings about her death, without exception. I wouldn't listen…"
Dr. Khouri approached and put her hand on Aeric's arm.
"She's still alive," the doctor reminded him softly. "I believe there is some hope yet left. Perhaps a ritual… I'm just not sure."
A ritual. That was something that Aeric could understand, something familiar. Already he was looking around the room for a sharp object, in a hurry to snatch a pair of medical scissors off a nearby nurses’ tray. Before anyone could say another word, Aeric made a neat slice across his palm.
Blood dripping, he reached out and pressed his hand against the exposed skin above the neck line of Alice's hospital gown, as close as he could get to her heart.
He waited, hoped, but there was nothing. Alice didn't so much as twitch. Aeric looked up at Mere Marie, perplexed.
"I could have told you not to do that. The sacrifice isn’t nearly great enough," the old witch said, her lips pulling down into a frown.
"What, then? I'd give anything. I trade my life —" Aeric started.
"Whoa whoa whoa," Mere Marie said, shaking her head. "I'm not letting you do that."
"You don't exactly have a choice," Aeric snapped.
Mere Marie crossed her arms and shot him a glare.
"As a matter fact, I do. It's in the terms of your contract. You're not allowed to sacrifice your life needlessly. If you try, I will use magic to prevent you. There has to be another way."
"Didn't…" Cassie started, then bit her lip. "Didn't Alice say that she was the one who cursed you, turned you into a dragon?"
Aeric fixed her with a curious gaze.
"Yes."
"Then… What if… I mean, this sounds crazy, but don't you think that would be the most appropriate sacrifice?" Cassie wrinkled her nose. "I mean, it's harsh, but —"
"I'll do it." Aeric didn't even have to think about it. He looked over at Mere Marie. "How do I do it?"
Marie canted her head.
“I think you’ll have to ask Echo to take you beyond the Veil, into the spirit realm.”
Aeric looked to Echo.
“Of course I will. I can let you through, but you will have to bring her back.”
“Let’s do it,” Aeric said without a moment’s hesitation.
Echo stood and walked over. She held out her hand, and Aeric took it. She closed her eyes and reached out a hand waving it in front of her body. For several moments, she looked like a madwoman, experiencing something that Aeric couldn’t see.
&nb
sp; Then the air before them seemed to thicken and warp, swirling with each pass of Echo’s hand. Echo’s eyes snapped open suddenly. The scene before them, Alice in her hospital bed and Cassie watching with a frightened expression, vanished. A layer of white mist appeared, and Echo reached out to draw it back, as easy as pulling aside a curtain.
“Come,” Echo said ominously. She stepped into the gray twilight beyond the Veil, pulling Aeric along with her as she went.
Aeric stepped through into the spiritual plane, blinking as his eyes adjusted. The world here was dim and foggy, no sun or moon to be found. He could make out some gnarled, bare trees in the distance, and the dark, moist ground at his feet, but little else.
Echo released his hand.
“I can’t go any further,” she explained. “I have to stay here and protect the opening I made in the Veil. It will draw spirits, after a bit, so please try to be as quick as you can.”
“Where do I go?” Aeric asked as he squinted into the mist.
“I believe someone awaits you,” Echo said, pointing.
It was true. A tall, dark-cloaked figure stood in the mist. Aeric moved away from Echo, heart hammering in his chest as he moved toward the stranger. Each step felt as though he was wading through concrete, using every bit of his strength just to keep moving.
When he was arm’s length from the figure, the face came into focus. The woman was older than any human could ever be, wrinkled and gnarled. Still, there was something about her that was familiar.
“You live,” she announced, sounding faintly surprised. Her accent was thick and vaguely Middle Eastern, made all the more difficult by her toothless lisp. “I warned my daughter that she should kill you, fulfill her destiny as a Fury. And yet, here we stand.”
She gestured to a dark spot on the ground a few feet away. Aeric stared at it for several beats before he could recognize it as a body. Alice lay prone on the ground, garbed in a thick dark cloak just like the crone’s.
“Alice!” he cried, rushing to her side. He knelt, turning her over. She was lifeless, pale, and cool to the touch. Yet she still breathed; a perfect mirror of Alice as she lay in the hospital bed.
“She cannot hear you,” the witch hissed. “You have taken all from her, just as I prophesied.”
“I will do anything,” Aeric swore. “Anything to bring her back.”
The crone tilted her head, considering Aeric for a long moment.
“She cannot go forward or back without the proper sacrifice. How much of yourself would you give to free her?”
“My life,” Aeric said. “I would give anything you ask.”
Lips pursed, the witch shook her head.
“I know my daughter. She saved your life more than once, she dotes on you. She will not wish to return to a world without you.” She paused. “The curse she gave you, the dragon within. You love it, do you not?”
Aeric inclined his head. “I do.”
The witch gave him an eerie, gummy smile. She pulled a long, wicked-looking obsidian knife from her robes.
“That will do,” she said. “Free your dragon, release him into the spirit realm, and you may reclaim your mate.”
Aeric snatched the knife from her shaking fingers, shuddering at the feel of the knife’s slick, icy surface. The black stone gleamed dully in the twilight, making Aeric’s stomach turn over uneasily.
“Straight into your heart, I should think,” the witch said, crossing her arms and shooting him an unimpressed glare.
Aeric closed his eyes, took a steadying breath, and turned the knife inward. Clutching it with both hands, he drove it home in a single, swift stroke.
A keening scream broke from his lips as the knife parted his flesh. But it didn’t stop his heart, no blood rushed forth, his body was completely intact. Instead, the knife hurt his soul. His dragon stirred, roaring as it was ripped from the fabric of Aeric’s being. Immense sorrow filled his heart as the dragon’s spirit poured from the knife wound, slipping out of the cut in a thin stream of golden smoke.
“Agh!” Aeric grunted. The smoke wrapped around his shoulders, caressing him longingly before fading into the mist. The crone reached out and pulled the dagger from Aeric’s chest, bracing his shoulder to keep him from collapsing onto Alice’s unconscious body.
Below him, Alice stirred.
“Alice,” he whispered, hoarse.
She gave a soft groan and tried to roll over. Aeric freed himself from the witch’s hands, then clutched at his mate. When her big hazel eyes opened, blinking sleepily, he dragged her to his chest in a crushing embrace.
“What happened?” she murmured.
“Go now,” the witch thundered at Aeric. “Take your woman, leave this place.”
“Mother?” Alice said, glancing up in confusion.
Aeric didn’t waste a moment. He stood and gathered Alice in his arms, and bolted toward the place where Echo stood waiting.
“You did it,” Echo said, awed. She stood aside and let Aeric carry Alice through, following them to seal the Veil. Alice’s body faded in his arms, filtering away. He knew a moment of panic until he realized that she still lay in the hospital bed on the other side.
Aeric stepped into the pristine white hospital room, wincing at the bright light of the human realm. Mere Marie, Cassie, and Dr. Khouri were looking back and forth between Aeric, Echo, and Alice, who was struggling to sit upright in her bed.
Aeric shouldered the women aside and sat next to Alice, reaching out to take her warming hands. She gazed back at him for several moments, tears filling her eyes.
“You…” she whispered. “I know you, don’t I?”
Aeric’s heart plummeted.
“You’re my mate,” he said, confused. “Of course you know me.”
Alice’s lower lip trembled.
“I— I’m sorry,” she said, a small sob escaping her lips. “I don’t remember…”
Of course. The curse had been removed…. taking all her memories along with it. Aeric reached out and drew her close, hugging her hard.
“It’s okay,” he murmured into her hair. She didn’t offer a bit of resistance, allowing them both the comfort of the embrace.
“I know you,” she said again. “I know you. I’ve touched you… I just can’t remember…”
“Aeric. My name is Aeric,” he said. “And I will find you again, Alice.”
She pushed back a little glancing up at him. A strange, shy smile lit her lips.
“Aeric,” she said, as if testing the name out. “You’re really very handsome.”
A tear rolled down his cheek, the first to touch him in hundreds of years. With it, he knew a moment of intense, burning hope. He’d saved her, that was all that mattered. The rest would come with time.
After all, she’d promised that she would always come back to him.
Always.
11
Chapter Eleven
Pere Mal’s muscles spasmed, waking him from a dozing sleep. The first he’d had in days, ever since Kieran the Gray had eluded his forces at the Guardians’ Manor. Foreboding filled his chest before he even opened his eyes.
The second his lids lifted, he cried out. He lay in his bed, clutching a vile-looking ceremonial dagger. The same one he’d used time and time again to bring forth Papa Aguiel, to shift the form of a waiting Vessel.
“No!” he shouted, but it was too late. A darkness stirred in his chest as he thrust the dagger down into his body, a scream fleeing his throat.
His consciousness shifted, floated away…
Suddenly Papa Aguiel was staring up at a blank white ceiling. A grin split his face as he wriggled in his new skin, bones creaking and flesh stretching to reveal his true form. Already, he could feel the strength of this Vessel. It had been a great bit of magic, using this powerful voodoo priest as a Vessel instead of the usual virgin sacrifice, but it was worth it.
Aguiel could tell that this one would hold up much better. He had weeks at least, months maybe, before this form gave out. Ple
nty of time to smoke out the Vessel he needed, the one who could hold his form indefinitely.
Once he had the girl, he would rule the human realm with an iron fist. The heavens would rain blood, the rivers would overflow with the bodies of his enemies, and mankind would bow to his sovereignty.
It was written.
Standing and stretching his body had never felt quite so good. Pere Mal had good taste in silk pajamas, at least. If these fit, it seemed likely that Papa Aguiel would have a full wardrobe at his disposal, without any work on his part.
Yes, he’d chosen his latest Vessel quite well.
His grin widened further as he stalked over to the doorway of Pere Mal’s bedroom. There by the bureau were a cluster of photographs tacked to the wall, the humans that Pere Mal had hunted at Papa Aguiel’s behest.
One photo showed two handsome and identical dark-haired men, both elusive Faerie princes. Another photo showed a beautiful Middle Eastern woman with a waterfall of silky dark hair and wide brown eyes. She posed with several of her coworkers, all dressed in white doctor’s coats.
Plucking the photograph from the wall, Papa Aguiel gave a hoot of laughter. He flipped the photo over, finding the woman’s name written in a scrawl of flourished handwriting.
“Dr. Serafina Khouri,” he read aloud. “I couldn’t have asked for a prettier quarry.”
Tapping the photo with a finger, he tucked it into the pocket of his borrowed pajamas and moved toward the door. There was no more time for sleep.
Papa Aguiel had a world to conquer.
12
Chapter Twelve
One month later
Aeric walked into the library his suite of rooms and tossed his tactical vest on an armchair. He’d expected Mere Marie or Cassie to be here, coaching Alice. Memory spells, flashcards with information about people she knew, all kinds of things. Alice, good sport that she was, had been working her tail off to relearn a lifetime of lost experiences.