“So we can watch each other’s back?”
“So we can catch each other’s mistakes,” Gale says with a nod.
“You mean you make mistakes too?” Bri says, sounding like Keva.
“But it doesn’t mean we don’t believe in you anymore,” Gale says. “Besides, you’re soon going to get the opportunity to cause all the mischief you’re apparently so good at making.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask, with a strangled laugh.
Gale’s about to reply, when he suddenly goes still. “We better get going,” he says, as distant footsteps reach us, getting louder.
But Bri doesn’t move, her eyes on me, filled with worry.
“She’ll be fine,” Gale says, grabbing her arm, “she’s a survivor.”
There’s a little scratch at the door, and Owen pokes his head in, eyes like pools of darkness that reveal nothing. “Time,” he says.
And in a flash, all three leave, locking the door behind them. I find myself holding my breath, ears perked for any sound of scuffle. But when I hear the heavy footsteps stop before my cell, I know they’ve managed to slip away safely.
A key turns inside the lock, and the door creaks open once more. I stare, slack-jawed, as Mordred struts inside, the flickering light of a torch pouring in behind him.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Mordred says, eyeing me coldly, like a mortician studying the next body to embalm.
He, on the other hand, looks just peachy.
“Come here to gloat?” I ask, leaning my head against the stone wall, grateful for its coolness against my feverish skin.
“You actually did a nice job on that ghoul,” Mordred says, crossing his arms over his pectorals. “Impressed quite a few.”
“What does that matter anymore?” I ask angrily.
“It matters if it’s the only thing that will keep you alive,” Mordred says.
“Oh, and forcing me to fight these horrible monsters is the way to do it?”
“You and I share the same blood, the same abilities. Surely you don’t think the ghoul would have posed me any problem, do you?”
I look away from him, unwilling to answer. I wish he’d leave me alone. Instead, however, Mordred drops into a crouch in front of me.
“Morgan, these people don’t understand things like pity, or mercy. They are signs of weakness, and weakness among them means death. The only way, therefore, you could have blended in—if you could ever truly blend in anywhere—was if you shared these same instincts as theirs.”
“Could have? Was?” I ask, finally looking back at him.
Mordred brushes my hair back to look at the side of my face, where Carman scored me from temple to jaw, and lets out a disgusted grunt before tossing something onto my lap. My fingers brush the old iron-threaded jack in dismay. It’s the one Arthur had given me eons ago at the ball, the one I wore my whole time down in Hell, and that I tossed out the moment I got back here. And though it’s now threadbare, it’s better than the ripped-up jacket I’m wearing now.
“Where did you find this?” I ask.
“That’s not important,” Mordred says. “What’s important is for you to finally understand that there’s nothing anyone can do against Carman. No one’s stronger than she is. Not Lugh, not your boyfriend’s paltry army, not Danu, and certainly not you.”
I glare at him, bunching up my old vest in my manacled hands, wishing I could slap some sense into him. “You took all this trouble to get down here just to tell me that?” I ask. “To be careful? You shouldn’t have bothered.”
“Shut up, Morgan. I know exactly what I’m doing, unlike you, who keeps bumbling about all the time, making a mess of things.”
“Well if it’s Carman’s plans I’m making a mess of, then I’m not sorry at all,” I retort. “I can’t let her free Balor.”
Mordred snorts in derision. “You mean I need to free Balor. She can’t open Hell’s seventh gate on her own, not even with the way Dother’s changed the wards. Only I can do that.” He pauses, golden eyes locking with mine. “Or you.”
“You can’t be serious,” I breathe out. “You’d honestly let Carman use you so she can destroy this whole world?”
Flashes of Mordred’s punishment for what happened at Caamaloth come back to me, the vision from Danu’s cave still fresh in my mind. Carman’s hate for Mordred was evident, and the only reason she kept him alive was because she needed him still. So why is Mordred still OK with playing her lackey?
Mordred’s smirk turns into a soft snarl. “I am nobody’s servant,” he says, leaning so fast I jerk back and hit my head against the wall, “and you’d better remember that.”
“That’s certainly not what it looks like,” I bite back, annoyed.
But I immediately regret the taunt at the flat look he gives me in return. I need to remind myself that Mordred’s my brother, that he’s like me, trying to find his place in the world, one where we wouldn’t constantly have to be afraid for our lives and freedom because of what we are. He’s just going about it a different way.
If only I knew how to show him my way’s the right one…
Mordred suddenly pulls away from me. “Look, I’ve come down here to let you know to be good these next few days,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I won’t be here to defend you if you don’t.”
“Why—”
“And that includes your little friends,” Mordred continues.”
Blood drains my face. “What—”
But Mordred’s already out, the door closing behind him
I hunch back down on my pallet in the sudden darkness. Despite my exhaustion, I keep mulling over his last words, turning them over and over in my mind until I think I’m going crazy.
And maybe I am, for I can’t help but think that he just admitted to being on our side.
◆◆◆
“I smell something frying,” someone sniggers as the door to my cell creaks open, making me jump.
It feels like ages since I saw Mordred, though Bri says it’s only been two days. And still I don’t know what to make of his last visit. Bri says to ignore him, that unlike me, he can lie through his teeth. Which is true. But somehow, I don’t think he did this time around.
My gut tightens as Urim’s pale face pokes inside my cell. Right on cue, Thummim squeezes behind him, flashing me his commercial-bright smile. “Neurons, I think,” he says. “The frying, I mean.”
“Can’t you guys give me a rest?” I mutter, shifting uncomfortably on my pallet.
“You’ve had 7,614 minutes of rest already,” Thummim says. “Time to get moving.”
I snort in derision. Right. “What do you guys actually want?”
“Oh, so many things,” Urim says, as if he was waiting for me to ask him just that. “Carrot cake and some absinthe would be good for a start.”
“Going to a water park, making dogs out of balloons,” Thummim says.
“Fulfilling the prophecy, driving a Formula 1 car, going to a spa, and getting our nails done.”
“But we’re always so busy,” Thummim finishes with a theatrical sigh.
“Wait,” I say, looking up at the strange pair. If they’re talking about prophecies, then… “Are you guys saying you want to go back to Paradise, too?”
“We’ve been away from home for a while,” Urim says.
“Never really thought I’d miss it,” Thummim adds.
“Home,” I repeat. “Last I checked, that wasn’t in Carman’s plans. So why are you working for her.”
“Last I checked, we were working with your brother,” Thummim says.
“Who’s helping Carman, so it’s essentially the same thing,” I say.
Except it’s not, I realize as I look at their mischievous faces. Working with, not for. Which means they chose to go with Mordred.
Mordred who left me with a warning not to get into trouble.
“Where’s Mordred?” I ask.
Thummim shrugs. “Not at Lake High, th
at’s for sure.”
“Threw Carman all up in a tizzy,” Urim says, sounding rather pleased.
“I think she might be leveling a city or two up in the human world for that,” Thummim says thoughtfully. “Something about deadly hail…”
Saint George’s balls.
I was right. Mordred and these guys have turned against Carman at long last.
A memory pushes its way to the forefront of my mind. “When I came back here the first time after you guys had taken over the school,” I cautiously hedge, “you were waiting outside for someone…”
Both Dark Sidhe stare at me, unblinking.
“You mentioned you were waiting for a different mutt,” I forge on. “You meant you were waiting for Carman, didn’t you? That means you guys have known all along that she’s only half-Fey. Was that your way of giving me a hint?”
“Took you long enough to figure that one out,” Thummim says, scratching his jaw. “At the rate you were going, we figured we’d drop a few more hints.”
“The geas wouldn’t allow us to tell the truth outright,” Urim explains with a disappointed sigh. “But I thought we’d nonetheless been quite obvious.”
I nod slowly, though this is still too much to take in at the moment. “Thanks for…trying to help me,” I say at last.
Urim’s smile deepens. “No, no. Thank you for letting us help you.”
Both Dark Sidhe move at once, and before I can make sense of what’s happening, they’re upon me, one of them holding me down, the other grabbing my arm and exposing it, flesh part up.
Panic fills me as I struggle to shove them away. They played me, and the eager idiot I was fell right for it!
“Stop struggling, princess,” Thummim says, pulling out a sharp knife. “It’ll hurt less if you do.”
“I thought you wanted to help,” I say, angry tears leaking out the corners of my eyes.
“But we are,” Urim says, pressing down on me harder. “Didn’t you profess to be one of us now?”
“And those of a feather…,” Thummim says, pressing the tip of the knife into my forearm.
I whimper as he drags the knife down my arm, my flesh splitting easily beneath the blade.
“…eat together,” Urim finishes, as Thummim pulls out a large, yellow gem from his pocket.
“Present from Gadreel,” Thummim says before shoving the demon’s ogham into my arm. “Bon appétit.”
“NO!” I shout, thrashing against their hold.
Urim’s other arm snakes around me, until he’s practically covering me with his entire body.
“Just hold on,” Thummim says through gritted teeth as he keeps both hands pressed firmly around my arm, until the wound closes up again.
My legs kick out, spasms overtaking me. My stomach cramps up as the foreign presence burns through my body, spreading goose bumps across my skin. I buck against their combined weight, lifting Urim up, then slam my head against my pallet so hard, stars burst across my vision. I want to grab Thummim’s knife and slice myself open to rip the ogham back out and stop this agony.
“Shhh,” Urim says, holding my head to stop me from bashing my brains out. “It’s gonna get better.”
A scream tears through my throat. My fingers clamp onto Urim’s arm, and I feel his bones shatter beneath them.
A maniacal laugh escapes Thummim. “Stop fighting it and enjoy the rush!” he shouts, struggling to loosen my grip on Urim.
I arch on my pallet so violently I feel tendons and muscles tear in my back. It’s too much. My body isn’t meant to absorb all this foreign power at once. I’m barely conscious of both Dark Sidhe diving before my cell echoes with a resounding BOOM!
The walls and ceiling explode, the grey stone pulverized to dust in less than a second. Warm tears flow down my face, and I can’t tell if they’re of relief or…relish. My whole body’s thrumming with the energy I got—no, stole—from Gad.
I roll over and heave, chills coursing down my body.
“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” Thummim asks, coughing.
A Fey light pops into existence, a purple glow that casts a devilish sheen over the destruction I’ve just caused.
“Better than I thought it would be,” Urim says.
He picks himself up, eyes traveling first to the door hanging halfway off its hinges, then around the crater that’s become my prison cell, and finally up at the cracked ceiling through which the sky-lake is now visible.
“Though perhaps not as discrete as one might have hoped,” he finishes.
“Who cares at this point?” Thummim says, wiping the dust from his face.
A silent sob escapes my lips. My arms have turned entirely black, and I can feel the taint spreading slowly to the rest of my body, as if I’ve gathered all the darkness inside me and it’s eating me alive. Yet at the same time, I can feel Gad’s energy coursing through me, hot and violent, eager to escape. And it scares me how much I enjoy it.
“Ready?” Thummim asks me after a while.
I take a deep, steadying breath. It’s OK, I tell myself, willing the last of my tears back. If this is what it takes to save the others, I’ll become a monster too.
Chapter 36
“What’s this, Morgan?” Bri asks, eyeing Urim and Thummim suspiciously.
At my orders, the two Dark Sidhe have gathered my friends in the library’s book repair room. It smells like glue and rot, and our only source of light comes from a narrow window set in the far wall, but the two have sworn this is one of the safest places left in the school.
If they are to be trusted, and it’s clear neither Gale nor Bri do. I can’t fault them for that. Even now, I find it hard myself to believe this isn’t a trap.
“Exactly what it looks like,” I say, trying not to sound as nervous as I feel. “We’re finally getting this show started.”
Too soon, a part of me says, while the other itches for some action. Anything to let my stolen powers loose. My hand closes over the ogham in my pocket, the one Mordred once gave me. Would I get the same kind of rush if I were to absorb that one too?
I yank my hand back out, as if burned.
“You never mentioned…them being in on it,” Bri says tensely, drawing me away from my disturbing thoughts. “We can’t rush things like this, not when so much depends on these plans of yours.”
“Plans, schmance,” Thummim says. “Learn by doing, that’s what I always say.”
“And risk getting us all killed for nothing?” a deep voice asks from the entrance, startling us.
“Lance?” Bri asks, eyes going round with shock.
“You’re alive?” I ask at the same time.
“Loverboy!” Urim exclaims, mirth dancing in his dark eyes.
With a tight smile, Lance walks over to our corner, and I note with some concern that he’s favoring his right leg.
“What’s happened to you? Where were you?” I ask, giving him a tight hug.
“Not in any prison cell I know,” Bri says, sounding a little curt.
I throw her a puzzled glance, and she has the grace to look ashamed at her tone.
“I’m here, that’s all that matters,” Lance says.
Up close, he looks even paler than I remember, long scratches marring his once perfect skin. I frown. “Did Jennifer do that to you?”
“We had…an argument,” he says.
My stomach drops. “Does she know you’re here?” I ask.
“No,” Lance says.
His blue gaze slides down to my collar, and his brow furrows. My heart skips a beat, and I refrain from reaching for my neck, knowing that the dark stains must already be showing there. I wonder what will happen when it’s spread to my whole body. Will I die? Will I go crazy? Or will I turn out to be just like Carman?
“Morgan?” Bri asks tremulously.
I blink, shaking the disturbing thoughts away, and notice that all the loose papers and books in the room have started to rise in the air, their edges smoking as with the beginning of a fire.
I try to put a leash on my powers again, but this is turning out to be much harder than it used to be. My whole body is humming with energy, and I feel like the slightest wrong manipulation is going to snap me in two. Or make the whole school explode. I grit my teeth together, and at last, the books and papers thud harmlessly to the floor.
“OK,” I say, feeling a little nauseated, “let’s start over.”
“AC’s on his way to meeting up with your Arthur,” Thummim says.
“Who’s AC?” Lance asks.
“He means Mordred,” I reply, though I’m as worried as he looks.
What if this whole thing is a ploy to get rid of us once and for all? But then, why bother giving me Gad’s ogham when I know how precious they are to them?
“And while they’re working to get our troops here, we must lure…”
My voice trails off as a hunched figure slips in between the fallen bookcases.
“Banshee?” I whisper.
“Thought it best to get all available hands on board if we are to take Carman down,” Urim says grinning up to his ears.
The cowled figure hovers hesitantly by the wall. “Mmmisssstressss,” she says hesitantly, as if unsure what kind of welcome she is to receive. As if getting caught here was her fault!
With a strangled cry of joy, I run for her and throw myself into her arms, hugging her bony frame close.
“I thought I’d lost you!” I say through my sudden tears.
“I’m ssssoorrry,” the banshee says, her voice muffled against my jacket.
I pull back, wiping my eyes. “What are you sorry for? I’m the one who should be apologizing!”
“Could we please get started?” a cool voice behind the banshee says. “There’s too many lice around for comfort.”
“Kaede? You’re here too?” I say, grinning like a fool. This is too good to be true.
“Just tell me what we have to do now that we didn’t try before,” Kaede says.
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