TORN: (The Fire Born Novels, Book Two)

by Laney McMann

  The high pitches and calls of the Steed continued to fill the air. White spindles of vapor snaked through the dark trees. Gleaming silver eyes shined under hoods in the darkness, and the Sluagh joined their mounts—their cat calls and jeers had alerted them to our location. Reins snapped against scaled hides as they rode, The Hunt navigating the forest with ease.

  We were running to nowhere.

  Thick opaque mist bled into the sky, like bright fingers of smoke, lightening the forest floor. At my back, sides, front, the assassins honed in. Tightening their circle around us.

  A pair of radiant eyes locked with my gaze through the trees. “You will not outrun us again, girl.”

  Laughter erupted in my head. Heat coursed through my body, and my Shield rotated as if tunneling itself into my flesh. I backed into a tree, unable to keep them all in view. There was nowhere else to run, nowhere to go.

  “You cannot run.”

  Justice heaved air beside me. A ripping caw screamed inside my head. The Raven. It felt as if she was trapped inside my body, struggling to escape—knowing she needed to fight. The Dara on my left wrist spun and stretched, reaching up my forearm, wrapping my bicep in a green-lined vice. The Raven screamed again. Feathers split through skin across my shoulder blades, and the Dara wrapped tighter still, coursing up my shoulder, joining with the Triskele Ogham. The earth shuddered and shook under my feet as if the tree at my back was uprooting itself.

  The Sluagh lunged. A united front. From every direction. Justice yelled and rammed headlong into a creature closing in on me, separating the rider from the beast, and grabbed me around the waist, speeding upward through the trees like a bullet. The Hunt ascended into the skies underneath us in a blur, their catcalls echoing through the night.

  Reaching for something in the strap across his chest, Justice yanked a small round object free and ripped at it with his teeth, before dropping a live grenade into midair.

  There was a momentary space of eerie silence before the atmosphere rumbled and the sky exploded.

  “That wasn’t the plan.” Standing inside the cliff crevice in which we’d crash landed after the grenade’s explosion caused us to plummet toward the sea caves, I brushed ash from my clothes and hair.

  “Nope.” Justice flinched, touching his calf where a chunk of it had been blown off and his human flesh bled profusely.

  I threw the bottle of alcohol my grandmother had packed across the drafty cave. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to play with explosives?”

  He caught the alcohol with one hand and set it down beside him. “Didn’t anyone to tell you to fight back when you’re being threatened?” He screwed off the cap. “I hate this stuff. It stings.”

  “What did you want me to do? Burst into flames?”

  “Do something—instead of just … standing there.” He dabbed on a minuscule amount of alcohol and winced. “Why’s she always giving me this to clean wounds with?”

  “Cause it works? Just do it quick. It’s not that bad.” I couldn’t help but smirk. Alcohol was akin to setting wounds on fire.

  “Can’t you do that fire thing—you know, how you throw it out, or whatever? What was all that you were doing the day Max was attacked?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know how I did that. It just … happened. And—” I didn’t know how to explain it. I still had no idea how I was doing anything as myself, the Ancient Fire Born, much less how to do anything as the Raven. Not that it mattered, since I couldn’t shift, and the anger that took control when I did, an anger I wasn’t sure was entirely my own, I didn’t know how to control either.

  “I saw your whole body erupt into that firebird thing when the Leanaan Sidhe disappeared with Max.” He lifted an eyebrow. “So don’t try to tell me you don’t know what you’re doing as the Raven.” Stretching his legs out, he cringed again.

  I shook my head. “Like it matters. I can’t shift.” Honestly, I really had no idea how I’d erupted into some kind of Phoenix when Max was taken, either. Madness was the only explanation.

  “What do you mean can’t?” Justice asked.

  “I told you that already.” I thrust out my arm, showing him the inner crook of my elbow. “Can’t. Not won’t. Not following my grandmother’s rules. Can’t. My grandmother put this Evil Eye Ogham on me. It prevents me from traversing or shifting, or allying myself with the Raven, as she calls it.”

  He squinted. “Where is it?”

  I extended my arm further. “Right here.” I pointed to the tiny dark blue eye.

  He squinted more. “That freckle thing?”

  “It’s not a freckle.”

  “Looks like one to me.”

  “Did you just think I wanted you to carry me when we saw your weird friend Ryan?”

  “No. I just thought you were, you know, following orders.”

  “Orders? Who follows orders?”

  He shrugged and winced, dabbing the alcohol on his leg again.

  I smirked. “You’re a gargoyle … it can’t be that painful. What’s all the stone for, if it doesn’t protect you from injuries?”

  “I am not a gargoyle—” He shook his head like he thought I was the dumbest person he’d ever known. “I’m one of The Fallen …” He mouthed the word ‘fallen’ really slow, as if I couldn’t understand English. “… for the twentieth time. This is only the form I assume. I thought we were on the same page with that. And believe it or not, we aren’t invincible. We’re not young eternal, like you and Max—” He gave me an odd look.

  “Whatever. I don’t even know what that means.” The strain in my voice was audible. “I just meant that, for a fallen angel, you don’t seem very … demonic to me.” Max told me that Justice and Tristan, even Sam, were Fallen Angels, but I had a really hard time wrapping my head around that idea. Especially when taking in Justice’s monstrous form and moody attitude.

  “Demonic? Why does everyone assume Fallen means demon?” He leaned forward. “My situation—Tristan’s—isn’t about being evil.” He looked at me, brow crunched, as if he was going to say something else, before patting his wound again. “I guess it’s clear you’re not off the Fomore’s hunting list. You think the doorway into the Underworld is down there?”

  “No, I think the Fomore have their arsenal policing the woods so we don’t find it. You saw, the Dryads and Fae Folk have pretty good defenses around their lands. I don’t think the doorway can be near them.” I stared out of the cave. “Why are they down there, though? I say we go back once it’s pitch black, and see if we can find out why they’re lingering around that spot.” I didn’t like it, them being so near that cemetery. It didn’t make any sense.

  Justice continued making little grumbling sounds, hovering his hand over his calf. “Fine with me. Midnight?”

  “Midnight.”

  “But listen. If I tell you to run, or whatever, don’t just stand there in shock again.”

  “I ran! And I was not in shock.”

  “Call it what you want. Toward the end, when we were surrounded, you weren’t moving.”

  “It just … caught me off guard. And where exactly should I have moved to? Up the tree I was backed against?” And the Raven was screaming in my head, not to mention the Sluagh, and my Oghams were wriggling all over …

  “When something is hunting you,” he said, eyeing me, “you have to stay on guard. Shock will get us killed.” He extended his legs farther, favoring the injured one. “I’m gonna try to get some sleep. Wake me up when you’re ready.” He lay back, but the fissure was too narrow for him to stretch out all the way, so he leaned sideways with his legs in an awkward bend. I couldn’t help but giggle to myself.

  It wasn’t as funny when I realized I couldn’t stretch out either. Luckily, sleep came swiftly.

  The glint of steel shined in the darkness. A breastplate partially concealed underneath long black robes. Smoke filled a wide open chamber, flames roaring from massive hearths lining the room. Max lifted his head, and his coal black eyes seared into my
own.

  16

  The stench of spoiled meat hit me first. The remains of the fallen Steed, blown to pieces by Justice’s grenade, hung from tree limbs, and lay rotting in the moonlight on the forest floor.

  The spot near the Necropolis was easy to find again. Navigating our way through a forest teeming with Fomore assassins at night, I knew, wouldn’t be.

  Landing in the treetops, Justice set me down gently, tucking his massive black wings in, and I searched for the Sluagh’s silvery eyes through the darkness. Instead, I spotted an army of creatures who’d tried to hide themselves throughout the underbrush, ineffectively.

  “What are those?”

  The things were massive. Their bodies reminded me of pillars of melted wax that had dripped unevenly. Thick, heavy grayish skin folded down on itself, and they walked with a distinct drag.

  “Fomorian guards—real ones.” Justice squatted beside me, balancing on a wide tree limb while he messed with his arsenal of weapons.

  No wonder they were called Demon Gods. They looked like they were from some alien planet. Max is related to them? Not possible.

  “You’re sure about this?” Justice asked. “I mean, it isn’t exactly following your grandmother’s plan.”

  “Her plan was to get into the Underworld. That’s what we’re trying to do.”

  He shrugged. “Actually, her plan was for me to alert the World of Light’s Guard when I found the doorway.” He tightened a strap on his hip.

  “Well, we have to find the doorway first. Don’t you have powers, or something? You’re one of The Fallen. What’s with all the weapons?”

  He scrunched his brow, staring at me with an incredulous expression. “Are you mocking me? What part of fallen don’t you get?” He shook his head. “No—besides flight, the kaleidoscopic effect in the air, and the bad-ass gargoyle transformation thing—no powers. I can fight. Better than most. There are residuals of my former self. Strength is one of them.”

  Former self?

  He tossed me one of two rusty-looking pistols. I caught it and held it out like it might misfire in my hand. “What’s this for?”

  “Just in case.”

  “In case of what? I need to shoot creatures from an ancient immortal race?”

  He stopped loading and pointed toward the huge Fomorian guards. “They are immortal.” He tilted his head in the other direction toward a cluster of black-winged Steed crouched in the bushes. Their reptilian bodies ambled around the dark, a slight hint of moonlight gleaming off their ravaged scaled hides. “They are not. Shoot them.”

  “They’re spirits of the dead …” I glanced over.

  “Exactly. Doesn’t mean they’re immortal. Only means they haven’t died properly. Make sure they do this time around.” He smirked.

  “I don’t know how to shoot anything.”

  “Just aim and pull the trigger.”

  Right.

  “Second thoughts?”

  I shook my head. “So, do you live forever?”

  His forehead knitted up. “Nothing lives forever, Layla. Done with the hundred questions game?”

  “Wait—” I reached for his arm before he jumped down from the tree we were in. “What about the Sluagh? I can’t shoot them.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You are an Ancient Fire Born.” His blue eyes widened, eyebrows lifting. “When are you going to remember that? Set them on fire, like you did at Max’s. Immortal doesn’t mean indestructible.”

  “I can’t just set fire to the Wood.”

  “Can’t you aim, or something? You know, that whole spears of light thing you did before?”

  I sighed. “I have no idea what I’m doing! When is everyone going to get that?”

  Eyeing me for a few beats, like he was trying to find patience, he said, “Just, try—and don’t let anything mess around with your thoughts. I can’t do that whole internal communication thing you and Max do.” He waved his hand around in a circle in midair. “I won’t know if you’re in trouble unless you talk out loud.” He mouthed ‘out loud’ and grinned in a teasing way.

  “You’re mocking me now?”

  “You started it. Look, we need to get past the guards and find out what’s on the other side of them.” He seemed to love every minute. “Ready?”

  I jumped from our perch before he could continue prodding me. He landed at my side with a ground-trembling thud, weapons rattling across his body.

  I eyed him.

  “What?”

  “Shh!”

  He crouched low to the forest floor. The dead of night pressed in—an evil unease. The usual croaking of toads and chirping of crickets had disappeared. Only silence penetrated the wood. That and the breath of the Steed, like raging bulls trapped in a cage, or wild horses trying to break free of new enclosures.

  The steel gun in my hand felt cold and foreign, and I wanted to drop it on the ground and leave it there. Instead, I warily tucked it into the waist of my jeans, hoping it didn’t shoot me in the leg, and began a slow, steady crawl, with Justice guarding my back.

  A flash of lightning illuminated crude rock walls. The drag of feet scuffed a sandy floor. A ghostly light ran across crystal grey eyes shining in the darkness. And blood. Everywhere.

  My breath caught, and I came to a halt, the glint of Max’s eyes racing through my head with the receding vision.

  “Hello …” Justice nudged me, but I couldn’t move. “You hear something?” He glanced around the woods.

  Frozen in my tracks on all fours, I tried to steady my breathing. “I think he’s in some kind of prison. I saw the walls—the darkness. And something else …” I couldn’t place the feeling that had come over me.

  “You saw Max in a jail?” Crouched beside me in the underbrush, Justice sounded skeptical. “Um … I get that you have visions, and all that, but no way are the Fomore imprisoning their own heir.” He shook his head. “Max … the Underworld Prince.” He chuckled and prodded me to get moving again. “Bet he’s thrilled about that.”

  My heavy limbs refused to cooperate. Some unnatural weight pulled on me, holding me in place, while Justice continued rambling. He pushed again.

  “Let’s go before we’re seen.”

  I lifted my arm, heavy with an unknown weight, and the slice of knives shimmied through my shoulder—the cut of what I knew were a thousand feathers splitting through my skin. A slight cry escaped my lips at the pain—along with the confusion of knowing that I should not be able to shift into the Raven—had not even tried to shift. My palm slammed back down to the earth with crippling force and threw off my balance, sending my head careening toward the ground.

  “What are you doing?” Justice hissed. “They’re going to hear you.” He shuffled toward me on all fours and positioned his stone form over my body in a sort of tented protective stance. “Are you hurt, or something?”

  I repositioned myself as the vision of Max flew past my scope again. Blood on his face. Hands bound behind his back. Swollen eyelids. An orange glow of firelight framed his silhouette. A dark cloak wrapped his shoulders.

  The lancing cut of feathers shimmied up my other arm, like knives through bare skin. My elbow buckled, and my face hit the dirt.

  17

  Shoulder blades tingling, darkness pressed in around me, and I opened my eyes. Mounds of sand dotted spiked wood floors. My hand went to my wrist, fingers folding around the eternity bracelets, and I exhaled, trying to keep the tears from falling as I sat up.

  Max’s house, if at all possible, looked worse than before.

  How did I get here again?

  “So, the Princess returns.” Perched on the end of a dilapidated couch, the Gatekeeper sat, dressed in rags, staring right at me. “Doorway wouldn’t open for you?” She sneered her lopsided smile. “Or perhaps you never made it that far, hmm?”

  My eyes narrowed, cautiously watching her. “Agrona.” I backed up, keeping my distance. I’d hoped she was nothing more than a bad dream, although if honest with myself, I knew otherw
ise.

  She bowed her head. “One and the same.”

  “You spoke to me in a vision. How’d you do that?”

  Her lips stretched over blackened teeth. “For me to know, and you to find out.”

  “You said you would help me.” The words flew out of my mouth. “Did you mean that?”

  “She asks for my help? Again?”

  “Yes,” I said without hesitation.

  “Yes.” Her reddish eyes glowed in the darkness. “You need only ask.” A wicked smile stretched across her sagging discolored skin. “Help you shall receive.” She bowed.

  “You finally awake?” The unmistakable complaining tone of Justice’s voice rose behind me, accompanied by the scratch of chair legs grinding against a floor. “Hard to recognize the place, huh?” His footsteps clapped against the floor, taking my attention from Agrona to him. He held out a cup of coffee. “Might help.”

  “I hate coffee.” A pounding in my head pulsed at me like a hammer.

  “We’re kinda limited, but some stuff still works in the kitchen. Coffee’s the only choice, right now, though.”

  “Thanks.” I folded the cup into my hands, relishing its warmth. “Did you bring me here?”

  “Yeah. We might have been seen—not that you were conscious enough to know that. I knew your grandmother would freak if I showed up with you in the Underground, so it was either here, or the rooftops, and I figured somewhere enclosed was better.”

  “Rooftops?”

  “Where we, the Fallen that is, keep watch over the city.”

  “Oh, Well, thanks … for getting me out of the forest.” I took a sip of coffee, cleared my throat, and winced.

  “So … what did you see exactly that threw you over the edge like that? I mean—you went all rigid.”

  “I saw … blood.” I couldn’t decide if it was one of the weird dreams I kept having. I glanced toward Agrona but she’d disappeared. “Where’d she go?” I stood up and turned in a circle.

  “Huh?”