Coven Keepers (Dark Fae Hollows Book 10)

by Thea Atkinson

  Scores of rotten slurry had rolled up its belly to wash me free of its tongue. In the tsunami of that mess, I had called to my magic, disgusted by the feel of the slime against my skin.

  “I wasn’t sure my power would find me there, but it did,” I said. “It lit the entire cavern of his mouth, and I could see the debris of a dozen boats like mine.”

  “Awful,” Ari murmured and lifted my hand to his mouth. His lips played over my knuckles. “But it’s over,” he breathed against my cold fingers. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Uriel’s little hand touched my cheek, and I thought he might be trying to tell me the same thing. I sighed. They would find out soon enough.

  We would wait. And they would see. And if there were any gods at all, the thing would take me and let these two pass.

  At some point, I heard Ari snoring. It was a light sound, not razor sharp, just deep breathing followed by a short rumble that came from the depths of his chest. I envied him that peace.

  I lay awake, staring at the blackness of the sky. My stomach rolled with each wave and every breath told me we were getting closer to Avalon. It wasn’t the scent of darkheart pears wafting to me on the breeze that was the telltale sign; rather, it was the stink of rotting fish.

  I rolled over onto my side, knowing I would want to stand when it came. The raft rocked beneath my feet as I tried to find the center and keep my balance. Ari stirred beside me, and I felt his hand grip my ankle.

  “It’s time,” I said. “Hold onto the boy.”

  If he did, I didn’t have time to find out. That same wet and leathery grip from days earlier stepped around my thigh. That same tentative testing pulse as it gave an almost playful tug.

  I knew what I would have to do. There was no question of it. We were close to Avalon, close enough that the raft would find the way on its own so long as the kraken was kept busy.

  I didn’t wait for the second pulse to go through that arm. Instead, I pulled in a bracing breath and tensed every muscle in my body.

  I heard Ari shout at me, but his voice was lost as I dove headfirst into the water.

  Fear was a powerful thing. But it quailed in the face of resignation. I couldn’t swim, but I didn’t need to. The kraken wouldn’t let go of me. He would want his revenge. I intended to keep the thing busy getting it.

  It had been the bones of a sailor bumping into my leg the last time that saved me. The still-formed skeleton hadn’t had time to break apart in the kraken’s belly when I’d been swallowed, but when it struck my hip, I had grabbed for it and fished about the ligaments and rotting tendons to tear a bone from its rib cage. With my lungs burning and my muscles already failing from lack of oxygen, I had jammed the butt of the rib into the kraken’s palate.

  The kraken had roared its fury and pain, forcing everything from its stomach: the slurry, the boat debris, and me out into the water with a rush. It had only been a piece of that flotsam striking me unconscious that saved me then.

  I wouldn’t be so lucky this time. After all, the chosen one was on his way home and the use for the fire-touched witch was finished. I was expendable now. Even I knew it.

  I thought my coven’s acceptance meant everything to me. I was wrong. What meant everything was this man and this boy. Buoyed by the remembrance that he had carried me when he could have dropped me, stood by me when he could have fled, kissed me when I was being impossible, I went limp and let the kraken do his work. It was the least I could do for the two I knew I loved.

  As it yanked on my leg, I became a keel’s edge in the water, slicing through the murk. The creature wouldn’t swallow me whole like the first time. It would play with me first, like a cat with a mouse. I expected it. I hoped for it.

  It didn’t disappoint me.

  When I broke the surface, flung from the kraken’s arm, it was to full light. As I sailed upward into the heavens, I caught sight of Uriel and Ari with their shirts spread wide, their lumens penetrating the darkness. One of them was shouting my name. Ari, I thought, until I realized it was Uriel whose mouth was wide open.

  I pulled my magic to me in those seconds, knowing I might only have an instant to let it whisper up my arm and gather in my palms, and that instant would never be enough to jolt the raft and send it on ahead those last leagues to Avalon. Still, I had to try.

  I was still working on gathering power when the water’s surface came at me again. Before I could break it, however, I was whipped sideways as the kraken caught me and wrenched me, flipping me in midair toward the horizon.

  The horizon. For one breathless second, I saw the coast of the isle. I felt hope.

  Then I heard my shin break, and agony lit a trail up my throat. My power let go in a ball that hovered in the sky like a purple flowerhead. I sailed through the air, a crane without wings, flapping ineffectively against the propulsion.

  Uriel and Ari on the raft grew smaller in the distance.

  But I didn’t fall. It was only as another one of the kraken’s arms wrapped around my torso midair that I understood the full scope of his size. It gripped me tight and thrashed me back and forth. I bit my tongue. Blood welled in my mouth. I lost consciousness twice and came to again, and I was still being shaken. Upside down, the blood rushing to my ears.

  I had time to think my neck should be broken in several places before I heard something snap. I thought I’d finally fractured each bone until I saw the lightning.

  It was purple and white all at once, and it came from the direction of the raft. My wayward ball of power had descended finally, and was captured in Ari’s hands, his lumen sparking with light that rent the sky around him into streaks that sizzled with electricity.

  The kraken saw it, too. It made a sort of mewling sound and paused as it left me to dangle there in the air, upside down, in its grip. I tried again to draw magic to blast it silly. When I did, it gripped my wrists with a second arm. Held them fast against my body without squeezing or shaking me. A sort of scolding maybe, telling me, a petulant child, to stop fussing because it was busy trying to work out something important.

  I got the impression it recognized something in Ari’s light. That mixed with my magic, it was reminded of something, days long past, perhaps, when it was a guardian and not a beast. I fancied it recalled sacrifices made to it in wonderment and hope of protection, the worship of my ancestors caught in the grip of something more wondrous than mere magic. Of purpose and appreciation.

  Or maybe it was just getting more pissed off at seeing the power out there bald and bold, and was soaking up the pause to unleash all its rage on me.

  Whatever it was thinking, I’d never know. It roared again and let go its hold.

  I dropped to the waves with a double roll, head over heels, and plunged beneath the depths without making a splash. My feet went first, then the rest of me. My broken leg screeched at me when I tried to use it as a rudder to keep from sinking too fast. Far and fast, I sank, unable to stop myself.

  I screamed into the water, letting much-needed oxygen go.

  Then my descent halted. Something soft but equally unyielding slapped my bottom and hefted me higher. It poked my ribcage, then planted itself on my torso. Shoved. Like a bully unafraid to prod a victim into action. The kraken. Behind me and under me. Taunting me. Torturing me.

  Air leaked from my nose. I watched my final bubbles of air trailing to the surface as I slipped another foot deeper, thinking the dammed thing could at least let me drown in peace.

  But no. It wrapped a tentacle around my torso. Then another. I could have wept when I realized this whole damn painful thing was far from over, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. That would mean dragging in a lungful of water, and I wasn’t ready yet. Not yet.

  If I was smart, I’d do it and get it over with. Rob the creature of its last bit of satisfaction.

  Never one to listen to the urgings of my conscious, I twisted in the kraken’s grip, trying to wrest myself free and discovering far too late that each struggle stole that much mor
e air from my tissues. I thought the water was turning black again, that the light was dissipating from above. My ears popped as my veins cried out their need for fuel. My blood was turning as inky as the kraken’s throat.

  I sought heaven with my gaze, searching for the light through the water. One last look. That was all I wanted. One last lingering glance at a light the world hadn’t seen in an eon. A light we had brought to the hollow. I deserved at least that. To remind me what I had worked for, what I had gained, and what I was most assuredly, giving up.

  Even as I searched upward through the brine, my oxygen ran out. The arms that encircled me were not the kraken’s, but Death’s.

  Funny thing was that death felt a whole lot like flying.

  It was also cold and wet. It burned my retinas with light. I had to shield my eyes against the unrelenting brightness of it.

  On the pleasant side, it left me with the impression of having warm lips on my mouth, of the taste of candy floss and darkheart pears on my tongue to replace that of brine.

  All in all, not a terrible experience.

  “Holy hollows,” a smoky voice said. “You’re alive.”

  What sort of magic was death that I could hear Ari’s voice? I tried to move, but felt a searing bolt of pain shoot up my leg, which gave me the answer to that. Black magic, that was what it was, because no other kind would let my death carry with it every single ache and pain from the kraken’s attack.

  I felt sour and cheated, and I groaned out every bit of bitterness at feeling so sore under the circumstances.

  “Everly,” the voice said again. Calloused fingers swept across my cheeks. A thumb peeled my eyelid back.

  “Fuck off,” I told death. I’d earned some peace at least. Never mind trying to get me to look it in the face. I needed a nap. “Leave me be, you bastard.”

  A soft, dark chuckle. “She’s alright, Uriel. No need to worry.”

  Tiny fingers peeled open the other eyelid. I winced. Was that a rock under my shoulder? What in the holy hollows was this purgatory anyway?

  I rolled over. At least, I tried to. The boy climbed atop my chest and hugged me so tight I lost my breath again. He felt soft and… real. I struggled to see as the boy let go and scampered to my side. I felt him lie down next to me, stretching out his arms as though he wanted to soak in the light.

  More arms around me then, pulling me against a hard chest. Ari’s chest. I felt the sure and steady thud of his heart next to mine. Hammering against mine. Lips nuzzling my hair with hot breath streaming down the back of my neck, muttering blessings to Miriam and a few awful curses at the same time.

  “We made it,” Ari said. “You did it,” he said. “I didn’t believe you. Not really. But you did it. We’re here. Look at that sky. That light. You’re home. You got us to Avalon.”

  I squinted upward. Blue like Freya’s magic had been. Daylight. So that was what it was. It felt warm and luxurious at the same time. Somehow, the balance had shifted. Somehow I’d made it home.

  “You mean I’m alive?” I asked.

  “Disappointed?” he asked.

  “Fuck,” I said, because it was the only thing that sounded right in that moment. “No.”

  Nothing looked the same as I’d left it. The buildings, the barracks, the gardens were all there, but they looked bedraggled and seedy under the revealing sun. The orchard’s trees on the hill had a leggy appearance, with branches so long they looked to be trying to dig themselves back into the earth. The darkheart pears I so loved looked like tiny fists as they dangled. I could just make out the top of Freya’s grave marker, clean of moss and detritus because I kept it neat. My chest went tight as I ran my gaze over the familiar line.

  “This is it, right?” he said, pulling my attention back to him. “Avalon? The isle of light.”

  “We have no light,” I answered glumly. “We suffer the same darkness as you.”

  He smiled and canted his head to the side. “Not anymore. Whatever we did—whatever you did—the darkness is gone.”

  He pulled off his lumen and dangled it in front of me. “I’m guessing I don’t need this anymore.”

  I inhaled, trying to taste the sunshine. “I guess not,” I said. I couldn’t shake the sense that something was wrong. I’d been sent to bring the chosen one home. I had done it. Past all the odds, past their fears I would fail. I had done it. Me. The fire-touched witch. So why didn’t I feel the rush of victory?

  The witch commune at the top of the hill was bathed in golden light so magnificent every worn stone and finger of heavy moss that covered the structure whispered of rot and decay. I’d spent my entire life here, trying to fit in, trying to get them to accept me. I’d thought this pilgrimage would save me, put me in their good graces, make them love me at last.

  I watched silently for a moment as several forms flung open doors all along the buildings and barracks. Whoops of joy met the breeze. They knew. They knew I had done their impossible task. Ari looked over his shoulder as some of them headed toward us.

  “Get ready, Everly,” he began. “Your people are coming to take you home.”

  “They aren’t my people,” I said.

  He leaned over me, a look of confusion on his face.

  “But you said—”

  “I know what I said.” I caught his eye and held it with my own.

  “This isn’t home,” I said, remembering Freya’s words and understanding them for the first time. “My heart isn’t here.”

  The way he looked at me, the set to his jaw, I knew he was worried. Maybe worried we weren’t in the right place, that I’d lied, that Avalon wanted to use him the way the marauders had.

  “This is Avalon,” I said to allay what I thought were his fears. “And you are the chosen one. You will be welcomed here. Lauded and treated like a god, even.”

  I nodded to the group of girls who had run to the front of the crowd and were even now close enough for me to see their faces. The little novice I’d frightened before I’d left and who had run from me in fear now ran toward me, her face beaming with her joy. I shook my head, seeing the same looks on all the others.

  “But this is not my home. I don’t belong. I never will.” I pushed myself to my feet and patted Uriel on the leg as I rose, gave him a tired, mournful smile I hoped he would understand meant I would always remember him.

  Then I faced Ari with a lifted chin and inhaled with a bracing defiance. I hated leaving him. I couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing him again, but Freya had been right. My home was somewhere else.

  “I’d rather wed the kraken than stay.”

  I thought he was going to laugh at me. His mouth screwed up in a strange way and his eyes fell to mine. I watched him swallow three times before he leaned down and captured my lips with his.

  I thought my heart stopped for three beats, it ached so beneath his kiss. Then, as though my body knew what my mind couldn’t admit, I flung my arms around Ari’s neck and clung to him, kissing him back with everything I had. I didn’t care what he thought. What the coven thought. If this was my last chance to enjoy a moment of happiness, I would cling to each second. I would let it consume me.

  He hefted me into his arms long before he lifted his mouth from mine. I swallowed down my nerves, trying to quell the aching of my throat. I thought he was going to say goodbye. I wasn’t ready for it.

  Instead, he swung around with me still cradled against his chest. Without a word, he began striding toward the lake’s edge. I heard the sloshing sounds of Uriel as he followed us into the water.

  Someone called out from behind us, but Ari didn’t turn around. His mouth was a grim, determined line, and I felt his heart thudding against my ribcage.

  Now that he was sending me away, I had a moment’s hesitation.

  “I can leave on my own steam. I don’t need help,” I said.

  “This isn’t help.”

  “Then what is it?”

  He didn’t answer, just set me on the raft with gentle ease. He held it s
teady as I settled on the boards. I let my feet dangle in the water. It felt different now the light had come. Warmer. Welcoming.

  He reached back for Uriel and helped him climb behind me. The raft wobbled for a moment, then just bobbed softly on the waves. He grunted as he pushed off and found a seat next to me. His arm went around me, and he pulled me close. His heat radiated through me like a wool shawl.

  I could see the entire coven halt on the shores, hands flapping, mouths gaping. Ianna was at the front, standing next to the novice I’d scared. She called out to us. My name was a chiding sound on the breeze.

  Ari lifted a single finger at her over his shoulder.

  “This isn’t my home either,” he said. “And if you’re not staying, I’m not either.”

  Uriel clapped his hands together and then stretched out along the boards with his fingers trailing in the water. I watched the shore grow smaller. As it did, my chest unwound from the knot that had clenched it tight. We bobbed for several moments, finding a wave and skirting the water as though the kraken was waving its arms beneath the surface and propelling us softly. Ari pulled me even closer and brushed the top of my head with a kiss.

  “Your hair,” he murmured after a long time, so that only I could hear. “I dream of it. It wraps around my heart and pushes roots in there. I’m all tangled up in it.

  “We’ll find a place,” he said absently, as though he was talking more to himself than me. “Whether it’s the city beyond the isle or some other hollow. So long as we’re together.”

  I noticed he didn’t ask me if I wanted to be alone. Didn’t ask me to go with him. And it didn’t matter.

  I hugged him back and looked out over the water with a smile. I thought of how Freya had warned me not to put roots where my heart didn’t belong. I’d been working for all the wrong things. I’d wanted acceptance and sought it in the hearts of those who could never call me theirs. In hearts where I didn’t belong.