Fire and Bone

by Rachel A. Marks

  “I don’t know. But I trusted her. She was good to me, even though I was a boy, young and annoying. All I knew of her was how happy she made my brother.”

  So he’s been waiting this whole time, thinking I’d show up and be his? And instead I hate him.

  Maybe if he wasn’t such an asshole . . .

  “What are your powers?” I ask. “Besides being a weirdo raven man, I mean.”

  He gives me a crooked smile. “Why do you wish to know?”

  “For self-defense reasons, obviously.”

  “Well, in that case,” he says, clearing his throat, “as a son of Morrígan, my element is spirit, so that is what I manipulate. I can walk into dreams, change emotions, and take away a person’s will.”

  My pulse speeds up as he rattles off the list.

  “Oh, and I can be a weirdo raven man,” he adds. He moves a branch out of the way and allows me to pass first. When he follows, he says, “This also means I can see through the eyes of other ravens. Which is how I followed you most of the time.”

  My feet stumble in the moss. “Followed me?”

  “Before you came to us, when you lived on the street, I was watching. And then once you were at Marius’s house, I kept my birds close.” He looks at me. “I saw many things.”

  His words hang in the air. I don’t want to think about what “many things” might mean. But that must be how he knew about Niamh.

  “So what’re we going to do about your sister?” I ask, trying not to think about the pixie she killed, the horrifying death. Instead I need to focus on how to get revenge.

  Kieran is quiet for a few seconds like he’s thinking. “I was only going to hide you from her. I’m not sure how to destroy her. And the Cast is behind her, always.”

  “I can’t hide forever, Kieran. We have to do something.”

  “Lily assumed something could be done,” he says, his voice full of sadness. “She was wrong.”

  “Your sister hurt her—is that why Lily went crazy and killed your brother?”

  “In a way,” he says.

  “If you know what happened to them, tell me.”

  “It’s not my story to tell.”

  I stop walking and turn to glare at him. “Really? You’re gonna be coy? People have died.”

  “Some stories kill as well. Even a demi.” He moves ahead on the path, and I hear him say quietly, “And I won’t be the one to put you in the crosshairs of that mess.”

  I watch him go and then follow a few paces behind. He’s impossible to understand. And he’s obviously not going to tell me anything. But if Lily’s really a part of me, I need to know what she knew about Princess Mara. I need to understand where everything went wrong, why Lily killed the king.

  “Did your brother and sister get along?” I ask.

  “No, never,” Kieran says. “My brother felt my sister’s way of living, of feeding, was undignified. He never allowed her to be a part of the court. At the time I felt he was unfair to her. Now I understand why.”

  “And now she’s in charge,” I say. How convenient. “How do the children of Morrígan . . . feed?” I ask. When the king fed from me in the dream, it felt like I was being ripped to bits from the inside.

  His shoulders stiffen and at first he doesn’t answer. Then he says quietly, “We pull spirits from their bodies.”

  Chills rake over me.

  “A bit at a time.” He sounds tired saying it. “It can be very painful.”

  I remember.

  “As a fire demi, what you take from a body is related to their molecular structure; it’s physical. The Morrígan children take the essence of a person’s spirit,” he continues. “It can be messy if it’s not tightly controlled, and pieces of the spirit itself can peel off in the feeding. That’s why most of my younger siblings have shade consorts—they’re already dead in the important sense of the word, only threads of spirit left behind. You can’t usually pull those threads from a shade by accident, so they’re more likely to survive.”

  I let all of that soak in. Then I ask, “Do you kill every time you feed?”

  “Not anymore.”

  The pathway narrows and the trees become thicker. I’m wondering if we’re ever going to get there, when Kieran says, “It’s just up ahead.”

  We pick our way through a section of dense ferns followed by some pretty crazy brambles, pushing forward. And just when I think he’s lying and we’ll be walking in an endless loop for an eternity, we stumble out.

  Right into a huge field of purple and yellow flowers.

  I gasp, taken off guard by the beauty in front of me. And I immediately recognize it as the place Lily wanted to return to, the woods of Caledonia, a field of bluebells and daffodils.

  A rush of elation washes over me. “Oh wow, it’s barely changed at all.” I search the other side of the clearing for the juniper tree. It has twisty limbs, I remember—

  My gaze catches on an overgrown area on the far side of the clearing. A branch sticking out looks familiar, so I head toward it.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  FAELAN

  I burst through the French doors of Marius’s house. Screams fill the air around me, coming from upstairs. Two females, from the sound of it.

  I take the stairs two at a time, pulling out my dagger. When I get to the landing, I slow, trying to catch a scent in the air that might tell me what I’m walking into. But I don’t sense anything odd or off. There’s soap and old perfume. One of the females is Aelia, I think. The other is a human, likely the mother, but it could be one of the servants.

  I move along the hallway, aware now that the arguing is coming from Aelia’s room. I pause outside the door, peek through the crack, and push the door open while trying to stay back.

  My thundering heart stops.

  Marius is on his hands and knees on the floor, the hilt of a dagger sticking out of his back. He’s gasping, gagging, trying to reach out for someone, trying to speak, but he can’t. Blood is coming from his ears, his nose, his lips, dripping onto the wood floor.

  Aelia is shoving a woman against the wall—the wife, Barbara. She sobs, then screams in her mother’s face. “What the fuck have you done?”

  The human looks confused. She’s shaking her head, but she’s not fighting back. “It was to help him,” she says. “He was sick. I was told to put the medicine in him.”

  “It wasn’t medicine, bitch! It was a poisoned dagger!” Aelia shoves her hard and turns to her father, crumpling beside him. “Oh, gods, oh, Daddy, what do I do, goddess help me.”

  I rush in as she’s reaching to touch the hilt. I pull her hand away. “No,” I say, “it’s cursed, like the ring.” I watch my mentor struggling to move, to speak, my mind frozen in horror. His eyes find mine, and tears spill from them.

  “What’s happening, Faelan?” Aelia grips me. “Stop it, please make it stop.”

  “I can’t,” I whisper. Rage unfurls in my gut as she clings to me, shaking, desperate. I should’ve moved faster. Only minutes earlier and I could’ve stopped it, seconds faster and he’d have been spared. “We’ll fix this. Don’t be afraid.” I hold her to me as we watch him convulse, his features contorting.

  The poison is filling his skin now, spreading out, weaving its black web through his veins. He goes still, black ooze slipping from his mouth in a thin string. He collapses to the side, eyes wide, face contorted in pain—am I truly seeing this?

  Aelia clutches me as we watch her father disappear inside himself.

  Barbara just keeps talking, telling us that it’ll help in a second. It’s got medicine on it, the dagger, she was told it would fix him. She’s obviously been severely glamoured—she’s in some kind of trance, barely aware that her husband is on the floor in front of her.

  After a moment, I grab a scarf off one of the mirrors and gag her. Then I pull her to the closet and shove her in, blocking the door with a chair from the vanity.

  It’s either that or I cut out her heart. The way I feel right now, I’m bare
ly sane enough not to kill her. Even though I don’t think she knew what she was doing.

  Aelia sniffs, like she’s trying to collect herself. “We can’t just leave him here,” she says. “What do we do?”

  “He’ll need to be put somewhere until we can get the antidote.”

  “Maybe his study? It has a view of the lagoon. I think he’d like that best.” She looks up at me, her cheeks glistening with tears. “I can’t take the knife out. Will you do it?”

  “Yeah,” I say, but the word barely emerges. I stare down at my mentor, not sure what to do exactly. As if I were a newblood all over again. “We need to call Cias. Hopefully, he can start making the antidote right away.” Marius will be in excruciating agony as long as he is under.

  I kneel beside him, pull off my shirt, and use it to grip the dagger’s hilt. I slide it out, my gut rising, thinking of who this is, how strong he is, how helpless he’s become, in seconds.

  I should have been here to stop it.

  I wrap the dagger in my shirt. Aelia helps me move Marius into his study and lay him out on the long window seat. She sits beside her dad, taking his hand in hers, and I go to the safe, locking away the cursed dagger.

  Looking at them tears me in two, knowing I can’t stay. I have to get back to Sage. But how can I leave Aelia alone like this?

  I step into the hall and pull out my phone, tapping in James’s number.

  “Everything okay?” he asks, his voice tense.

  “I need you to come back to the Cottages right away. Aelia needs you.”

  “What is it?”

  I don’t know how to say it. “Just come.”

  Back in the room, Aelia is still sitting beside her father, both of them framed by the picture window. “I have to go,” I say.

  Aelia turns slowly, her eyes lost. “What?”

  “I have to leave, I’m so sorry. Sage needs me.” I can barely utter the words. Marius is my master. He’s my keeper. He saved me and took me in when everyone rejected me, when they betrayed me. He’s the only true friend I’ve ever had. And I should be with him, at his side, taking care of every detail to bring him back. But I can’t help it. I have to go.

  I keep seeing Sage in danger, and I’m not by her side. I’m not but Kieran is. An irrational fear is coiling in my chest as I realize I could lose her, lose something that was never meant to be mine to begin with.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  SAGE

  “Do you hear that?” Kieran whispers as we cross the field.

  My feet slow a little, anxiety trickling through me. I scan the trees, seeing only shadows.

  Before I can tell him no, one of the shadows moves. A large one. Just slightly.

  I freeze.

  Kieran grabs me, pulling me to the side, ducking under a fallen tree. “Stay here, don’t move.” He brushes his fingers along the scar on my neck. “And trust that I’ll be watching you.” Then he poofs away.

  Seriously?

  I peek over the tree, searching for the spot where I saw the movement, but I can’t see anything now. It’s all a thick wall of tree limbs and ivy. I don’t even know if what I saw move was a threat. For all I know, it could’ve been an animal. Like a really big raccoon or something. Are there raccoons in this forest? Bears? We’re in Scotland, right? What sort of animals run around in the land of plaid? There aren’t monkeys, obviously, but maybe—

  “What are we hiding from?” whispers a voice beside me.

  I twist to look, nearly falling over.

  An old man is crouched behind the log, staring at me with wide, curious eyes. “Is it a Norseman?” A squirrel appears over his shoulder, peeking at me too.

  I stare at them both. The smell of him wafts around me, a thick, barnlike scent. His eyes are a piercing blue, framed by the bushiest eyebrows I’ve ever seen. His hair is a tangle of silver gray and his hat looks like—well, I think it’s a bird’s nest. There are leaves and vines woven into his long thick robes, and his hand is gripping a tall walking stick. He looks like he just popped out of a children’s story.

  Something brushes my foot, and I bite back a gasp of surprise as I look down.

  It’s only a rabbit. Its ears twitch back like it’s annoyed that I’m not petting it.

  “I hope it’s not a Saxon,” the old man says with a snort. “They smell like the underside of a horse. Very disagreeable. Whoever they are, they bring bad apples.”

  I don’t quite know what to say. Or do. But I think this is Lailoken. He doesn’t look the same, not even a little. But he’s familiar.

  He sinks lower and asks me in a conspiratorial voice, “Did you come here by way of sky or sea?”

  “I walked?” I say, like a question. I should tell him why I’m here, that he’s in danger, but I’m at a total loss for words. Suddenly my memories are no help at all.

  “Oh!” he says in wonder, brow going up. “Well, that is exciting.”

  “Um”—I look down at the rabbit by my foot—“I came to warn you.”

  “You did?” He adjusts the nest on his head.

  “Yeah, there’s someone who’s trying to—”

  He places a dirty finger to his lips to hush me. Then he points to something behind me in the field, whispering, “The tale begins, my child.” Giddiness fills his features, and he motions for me to look. “I’ve been waiting so very long.”

  I turn.

  Faelan is emerging from the woods. He pauses at the edge, searching the opposite tree line, his body tense.

  Relief washes over me, and I start to stand, lifting a hand to wave. But I’m grabbed from behind, the old man yanking on my shirt. “No, no,” he hisses. “You’re interrupting. Hush now and sit still.”

  I open my mouth to scold him, and he puts a finger to his mouth again. My throat clenches. I can’t speak.

  “No more foolishness, Lily. This is what we’ve waited for.” He motions at me to watch.

  Fear threads through me, my skin turning clammy. What is he talking about?

  He called me Lily.

  I turn to Faelan, but when I open my mouth to call to him, nothing comes out. I try to get up, to move, but it’s like my feet are stuck, my legs useless.

  Fear becomes dread. I stare at Faelan, helplessly watching him cross the clearing, his body crouched low to the ground, his eyes watchful. He won’t see me here; he’s focused on the trees across from us. He moves steadily. And when he passes us, he’s forty yards or so away.

  He pauses halfway across the field, pulling a dagger from his waist like he heard something. He studies the trees ahead, then turns to look behind him.

  An object sings through the air. And a dull thwack echoes around the clearing.

  Faelan flies back, an arrow protruding from his chest.

  A cry fills me, horror burning in my limbs, but I can’t move, I can’t speak. I’m frozen, useless. Held captive by a crazy old man.

  Lailoken touches my shoulder like he’s consoling me as we watch. He leans over, whispering, “He is a brilliant boy, Mr. Winter. I hope he brought his heart with him. He shall need it.”

  Another snapping of twigs nearby and someone else emerges from the forest. I blink, not sure I’m seeing right. I think I recognize him. He’s in old-fashioned black leathers, a bow held in his hand, a quiver on his back. His hair is dark brown, cut close to his head, and his skin is tan.

  Ben. The shade from the Halloween party where all of this began.

  “You got him,” he yells to someone behind him. “That should hold him for a minute, maybe two. Hurry up and get the bigger torque.”

  Someone else yells back from the cover of the trees, a female voice, but I can’t hear it clearly.

  “No way, not without the torque. I’m not getting paid enough to be gutted by your lover.”

  There’s silence, and the man is joined by a second figure, a tall female. She emerges into the clearing like a Viking princess, her perfect body clad in tight, ancient-looking leathers, a thick iron shackle in her fist.

&nb
sp; A white-blond braid curls over her shoulder.

  Astrid.

  What is she doing here? I expected to see Mara, but this . . . it doesn’t make sense.

  I watch her and Ben walk toward Faelan’s body. They slow as they get closer, both pulling out daggers. Astrid says something quietly, and Ben goes around in a wider circle, to the other side. Then he kneels and grabs Faelan, pushing him into a limp sitting position.

  Faelan looks completely out of it, his chin on his chest, his dark hair curtained over his face. A huge arrow is sticking out of his chest.

  My own chest aches and tears fill my eyes. I want to run out there, to rip that bitch’s braid out by the roots. What the hell are they doing to him?

  “Now they shall see, Lily,” Lailoken whispers. “It will come as quite a shock, but they shall see.”

  Astrid leans over and places the torque around Faelan’s neck. Then she nods at Ben, who hoists him up and starts dragging Faelan’s body across the clearing into the trees. Astrid follows, slipping her dagger casually back into her belt, a satisfied grin on her face.

  “Well, let’s go!” Lailoken says, sounding excited. He snaps his fingers and my throat warms, the lock on my limbs easing. “It’s almost your cue, princess. The boy needs us to save him.” He grabs me by the arm, yanking me to my feet and tugging me through a raspberry bush like he’s as strong as a twenty-year-old.

  I stumble forward, getting pricked and snagged on the thorns as I’m pulled.

  “Let go!” I hiss, trying to get away, but he’s gripping me too tightly, dragging me through brush and past branches, hurriedly weaving through the trees.

  “No,” he says. “No more letting go. I’ve missed you too long.” The rabbit follows at our feet, and several more pop up from the bushes, joining the herd. The squirrel rides on the monk’s shoulder, clinging with its tiny claws. It glares at me with its beady eyes, like I’ve offended it.

  “What is going on?” I ask, desperate.

  “You’re going to complete the circle, of course. As your mother planned.”

  I growl in frustration. That makes no sense.

  “I know,” he says, like he actually pities me. “You’re mixed up in your belly. It’s how it had to be done. No other way to hide. But don’t worry, child. It’s all blossoming now!”