TORN: (The Fire Born Novels, Book Two)

by Laney McMann

  The Shield. Layla’s fire Ogham was concealing me.

  I held my breath, staring back at my father.

  “Hmm.” The King glanced toward the bookshelf again and back. “Perhaps, I was mistaken.” Turning away, he marched out of the library, closing his study door with a thud.

  Reluctantly, I stashed History of The Ancients in the corner behind the curtain and hoped it would stay there. The bare balls of my feet remained silent on the cold stone floor as I crept out of Elethan’s library.

  Overhead, the semi-circular second-story held the jail cells—nothing more than a narrow ledge overlooking the main gallery area of the castle. I’d been prodded down the crumbling stairwell not so long ago. One wrong step, and a prisoner would likely fall head first into the massive room below. Probably the idea.

  Creeping toward the crumbling staircase, I kept close to the shadows, before taking the stairs two at time. Holding still at the top of the landing, I peered down the narrow shelf. Every cell along the passageway had a steel door. One or two had small square windows, but only one door was shut. I scurried toward it and slid inside, shocked it wasn’t locked. Another barred window allowed a weak haze of reddish moonlight into the cell, and a pile of what looked like old rags came into fuzzy view.

  “Benny?”

  Her eyes were half closed and rolling upward into her head. Clothes ripped and dirty, her legs and arms were covered in scrapes and bruises. She breathed in short hits as if she couldn't regulate her air. Her wrists were bound by manacles attached to chains bolted into the stone floor—likely the reason the door was unlocked.

  I touched a pale, cool cheek. “Benny?” Her head lolled to the side, face and hair caked in dirt. “Can you hear me?”

  She only moaned.

  I wrapped my hand around one of the shackles and let out a breath.

  Steel.

  “Dammit.” Nothing could cripple the Fae worse, or faster, than steel.

  She wouldn’t be able to shift her form, and instead would lie dying, trapped in her human guise. Searching the dark cell for something to break open the manacles, I spotted a set of keys hanging just above the door. Snatching them up, I fumbled with the locks around her wrists, just as the jail door slid open across the dirty floor. I sealed myself against the dark wall, and a ghostly light bathed Benny’s limp body.

  Sam stood in the threshold, his dark eyes shifting in their sockets. A deep rumble escaped his throat as he glared toward Benny’s unconscious body. “Ben?” The sound of his voice was timid—afraid. Completely unlike the Sam I knew. A desperate yearning I could never have imagined coming from him laced his tone.

  I stepped into the light in front of her, hands open wide at my sides. “Come to finish her off?”

  Sam blanched, gaze steeling, and his posture stiffened. His foot lifted from the ground, like he might run at me, but he lowered it just as fast. He gazed toward Benny again and back to me. “No.”

  “This is who you’re working for,” I hissed. “This.” I gestured toward Benny’s lifeless form. “This is what the Fomore do to people. This is who you’ve been helping.”

  He shook his head as if momentarily bewildered. “You don’t understand.”

  “I understand you love her. I can see it. So, get her the hell out of here.”

  “I … but, I—we’re …”

  “We’re what?”

  He stood as if shocked into a solid block of ice.

  “Sam.” I looked into his face, taking his view away from Benny’s body. “The shackles are steel. She’ll die.”

  The rest of the color drained from his face, and he lunged forward in one step, dropping to his knees beside her and fumbling with the manacles at her wrists.

  “I’ve already unlocked one.” I tossed him the keys before I knelt beside him, keeping my voice low. “She needs Grandma Mac.” I glared at him. “I never saw you, and you never saw me.”

  “Max—I’m …” He looked at me as if he didn’t recognize me.

  “Sorry. I know.” Popping to my feet, I said, “Tell my grandmother I sent you. Take Benny and don’t come back. If you do—I won’t hesitate to kill you when I see you. And I’ll make it a point to see you.” I helped him lift Benny’s limp body off the floor, and he cradled her in his arms. “If I find out you disabled the boundary lines around Layla’s house—” I kicked out the iron bars of the window in the cell. “Or you let Ryan get near her—”

  “Ryan?” He scrambled through the window, clutching Benny against his chest. “I didn’t disable the boundary around Layla’s house. Only yours. Ryan did this?” In the dark, his eyes lit up like a torch.

  “Yeah. They came for Benny as a warning to me.”

  Sam shook his head again like he was trying to shake the knowledge loose.

  “Stay away from Layla. I know you talked to her the other day on the beach. I’ll know if you come near her again.”

  “Max—” An odd look shone in his eyes.

  “What?”

  He glanced toward the cell door, and said, “Nothing. You … reminded me of someone I used to know.” He looked into my face as he said it. “I’m … sorry.”

  “And I won’t forget that, either.”

  He gave a quick nod and transformed. “I hope not.” He took off like a shot into the open night air.

  “Well, well. MacKenzie.”

  I spun on my heel.

  “It was you I heard in my library.” My father stood in the doorway, History of the Ancients held in his callused hands. “Did you learn anything by spying through my things?”

  “I learned enough.” Maybe.

  “Did you, now? Enough to know why you are so very important to my cause?”

  My eyes narrowed.

  He grinned. “I thought not.” He handed the heavy book to a guard standing behind him. “And I thought we finally understood one another.” An odd gleam hazed his grey eyes.

  “You thought wrong, I guess.” I raised my eyebrows before I summoned the wind and spun.

  Nothing happened.

  Elethan smiled, a wide evil grin. “You cannot traverse from here. I would have thought you remembered that?” He walked into the dark cell. “What have you done with my prisoner?”

  I backed closer to the window, away from him. “Set her free. You said you’d spare her life. I made sure you kept your word.” I smiled back at him.

  He snapped his fingers, and the guard walked up beside him. “Retrieve Samuel, please.” He sighed. “So difficult to find honest help,” he said under his breath, as if he were talking to himself. “Young and impetuous.” He inclined his head toward me. “You know, Son, we really must have trust. Without trust, well, what do you have? Nothing. I must say that I rather wanted to believe you—believe that we could make a new start. Trust that your word was genuine.”

  “My word is as genuine as yours, Father.” I stared at him, wondering how far the drop was out the window, and whether I could summon the wind fast enough to stop me if I fell. I glanced toward the bars I’d kicked out for Sam.

  “Are you listening, Son? You seem somewhere else entirely. I was saying that I am sorry—so sorry it has come to this. Wielding control … it is such a tedious part of what I do. A very unnecessary part. If only people would listen the first time.” He continued chattering while I shifted the wind between my hands, testing its strength. It felt normal enough. The window was pretty narrow, but if Sam made it through, so could I. I adjusted my feet, my eyes still on Elethan, who hadn’t stopped talking.

  “I gave you my word that I would not touch Teine, but you are forcing my hand. If I cannot trust you, well … it is within my Rights to go ahead with the Battle. Understand, it is the last thing I want to do—”

  Not listening to him, I jumped.

  A force knocked me back to the ground like a steel hammer. Right on the side of my neck.

  “I knew you were not listening.” My father shook his head, standing over me as I stretched out on the dirty cell floor with
both hands gripping my throat. “You asked about the tracking device. I may not have been completely honest. It has … many uses, you see. This, as you feel, is one of them. Son, I hoped that you would learn the error of your ways. Understand that Teine was born your enemy. But if you cannot join the Fomore of your own free will … well, what recourse do I have?”

  The edges of his face blurred. “You’re insane.”

  “As I was saying, I gave you my word that my hand would not touch your Twin Soul. I did not, however, say that yours would not.” He grinned down at me. “The Battle will commence. It is your destiny to destroy those who … stand in our way.” He smile grew.

  My teeth ground together.

  “Why do you think Samuel came into my service? All of your angels are suffering. Some are dying. Yet, still, you choose to protect the girl, rather than free the hundreds who have fought to protect you.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Heat radiated down my arms, and I couldn’t get my body to cooperate and move me to my feet.

  “Some would think it selfish of you. To choose one over one hundred. So, I will make it easy and choose for you. As a father would for his only son.”

  “You said the Fire Born were a race to be revered, not destroyed. The Creators—your ancestors.” I gritted my teeth and tried to push to my feet. A stabbing pain bloomed and sparked like fire across my chest, holding me to the ground.

  “And I do revere them.” He laughed. “What else is there, but power? Now that I have yours … I need Teine’s, as well.”

  “I will never hurt Layla. Ever.” My vision started to give as pain spread down to my torso.

  “Perhaps you did not understand me in your attempt at escape. I will bend your will—just as the Tuatha Dé have. It should be nothing new to you. You seemed quite comfortable knowing that magical coercion was the only link tying you to your Twin Soul. I wonder … do your angels know? That they’ve been suffering for nothing?”

  I glared at him.

  “Ah, yes. They do know. No wonder they have begun to turn on you. Are they hunting the girl, also?”

  I kicked out and missed his leg by inches.

  “Now, now. Let us play nicely.”

  “You’re telling me you care about the angels’ welfare?” I yelled, losing my breath.

  He waved a hand. “Goodness, no. I care to control them. And you have that power. You alone can give me all that I desire. Had I known you were my son, why, I would have intervened years ago. The transition would have been a much more pleasant one for you. But, no matter.”

  “They aren’t my angels!” I shouted. “Killing Layla won’t free them. They belong to the Ancient’s who came before me. The ones who died in the Uprising. I’ve told them that. I can’t give you anything you want.”

  “And yet, your two biggest allies, best friends even, stand against any threat that may come at you. Justice and Tristan, I believe are their names?” He looked down. “My son, haven’t you figured this out yet? Angels serve one master for eternity. Time has no meaning for them.” His grey-eyed gaze seared into my own. “You are the one who came before you. There is only one MacCoinnich of the Ancient race. One reborn from the ashes of old. You. The angels follow your command and yours alone. And I will wield them through you.” He turned and walked toward the small window. “You see, there is only one way to break the Ancient’s curse on them—on yourself. You must kill the girl. Or the cycle will continue. You will be reborn from the ashes of old over and over again, always cursed to kill the girl.” He shook his head and turned back. “So young and ill informed.”

  I didn’t answer, finding it hard to focus.

  “But you already knew that, didn’t you?” His brow rose. “What did your prying eyes see in my precious book? You surprise me, MacKenzie, I must say.”

  I swallowed, glaring at him, breathing harder as the pain spread.

  “Such a difficult choice it must be—choosing between your beloved and those who have sworn to protect you. No matter. After Teine’s death, the Morrigan will be freed of her bond to the girl.”

  All the feeling in my body drained to numb shock. Why else would the Raven’s Ogham have been on Layla’s neck? The voices I kept hearing inside her head weren’t hers. They were the Morrigan’s. Oh, god. I left her alone. This whole thing was a trap. To separate us. I wrestled with myself against the stone floor in a useless attempt to stand up.

  “Trust me,” Elethan said. “You will thank me later. It is in your blood.” He grinned, and the room blurred and winked in and out. “The blood of an Ancient Prince. The Morrigan will open the gates of Mag Mell, and release the powers of the Afterworld. The lost Ancient race will rise once again, and destroy the Lesser Gods.”

  “That’s … necromancy.” Shock and disgust released in my voice.

  “Yes.”

  Half blind, I grappled for the floor, scrambling to find a hold on anything and push to my feet. My body convulsed, and the pain returned with a quick stab. It coursed outward, speeding down my arms, my legs, into my fingertips, wrapping my rib cage like fiery spindles. My pulse sped, sizzling and throbbing, as if boiling water filled my veins. A weight pressed against my chest. Something stabbed through flesh and ground against bone, and a cry escaped my lips, as warm liquid spilled down my sides.

  My hands slipped, trying to find leverage on the floor, as my body writhed and twitched. A crack filled my ears. My heart sped, beating against bone as if it would explode. In agony, my scream broke the silence.

  Layla.

  Breaths released in a gasp.

  Eyes opened.

  Blood dripped from the ceiling, splattering the floor around me. My hands were covered in it.

  Chest slashed open, my ribcage splayed wide, the pain began to recede.

  A sword in his grasp, sweat covering his brow, Elethan stood over me. “Welcome home, Son.” He held a hand out.

  A quick glimpse of brown caught my eye, and my eternity bracelet fell from my wrist. I watched in silence as the bracelet dropped in slow motion and submerged into a pool of blood surrounding my body. Elethan had sheered it through with a small dagger.

  My gaze lifted and found my father’s. “It’s good to be home.” I grabbed his hand.

  36

  Layla

  A scream pierced the silence. My body writhed, curling into the fetal position. Something stabbed my neck, clawed at my heart. Feathers itched and prickled, bleeding into my throat, my nose. Suffocating me.

  A cracking sound, like wood being split with an axe, crowded my ears. My body lurched upward, and pain radiated through my ribcage as if I was being gutted, as if something inside me—something internal … tore in half.

  Screams shattered the silence again.

  They were my own.

  “Shh, Kindred. You are all right. Try to rest.”

  Sounds of the forest lifted into a high, crisp melody. Crypts loomed in the darkening cemetery. Beyond the threshold of the rusted gates surrounding the necropolis, I made my way toward the white mausoleum in the far corner. Upon my approach, the crypt shined as brightly as I remember. My fingertips dragged over the top of headstone after headstone, as I walked toward the mausoleum, and placed my hand on the heart-shaped lock securing the tombs within. The inscription on the underside of the metal scratched against my palm. Squeezing it tightly in my hand, I turned it over.

  MacCoinnich.

  Rubbing my thumb across the patina, the lock opened. I removed it from the gates, heart thundering. Pushing against the heavy crypt door, I found it resisted with nothing but a grumble, dirt and dust falling overhead as it gave way.

  Frigid cold stopped my steps in the entrance, the glowing flicker of candlelight dancing in tapered shadows up the interior walls of the inner tomb.

  Two caskets rested side by side before me, so close they touched. Balanced on ornate wrought iron sconces, candles of all sizes glowed along the walls of the chamber. Like a shrine. Dried gardenia petals littered the floo
r. Angel’s wings, painted in gold and rose, encapsulated the entire crypt, as if their feathered embrace cradled the dead in a protective hold. Beneath an arched cornice, in delicate tracery, the word, Tairngire, appeared in the stone.

  Promised.

  Taking a shaking step, I ran my fingertips over the lettering and down the cold, stone wall. Barely visible in the dim light, delicate strokes of gold paint connected two inscriptions above each headstone. With the unsteady movement of candlelight flames, the name MacCoinnich flittered. Beside it, to the left, the name Teine appeared.

  Understanding took me to my knees.

  Me.

  The padlock dropped from my hand and clanged with a bellow against the stone floor. The sharp metal engraving sliced across my ring finger and blood sprayed the crypt in crimson.

  I fell backward, out of the mausoleum, and onto the warm soft soil of the cemetery.

  “Kindred?” my grandmother’s voice startled me. “Please relax, child. You are safe. Just sleep. Try not to thrash around.”

  I wanted to answer her, open my eyes, but I couldn’t.

  “Must I always come when you call, Mother?” A little girl with long yellow locks skipped across a sun-drenched field, a basket overflowing with wildflowers cradled under her arm.

  “Yes, my dear, you must.” She ruffled the girl’s hair. “Such beautiful blooms you found, today. Perhaps we should offer them to the elder of the kingdom this eve at dinner?”

  The little girl’s chin dropped. “I would rather not, Mother. She is not very kind. I do believe Auntie Macha must despise me.” She trudged along through the high grass in an open field.

  “Nonsense.” Her mother chuckled. “You are her niece, and betrothed to the Prince. You will be the next Queen to the throne.”

  “I believe that is the problem,” the little girl mumbled. “As you say, Mother. I will present her with the most beautiful of bouquets.”

  “My sweet child. Run along now. The blooms will wilt.”

  The little girl gave a quick curtsy, and said, “Yes, Mother,” before darting off toward the trees.