by Laney McMann
A light dawned, and I realized that had to have been Elethan's plan all along—to lure me into the Shadows, push me to the breaking point, and turn me into the one the Demon Gods missed the most—the one they revered, longed to follow. The Morrigan. "And if I refuse?"
"Layla." Justice's jaw clenched. "No."
Crimson bled across my vision as I stared at Justice, confirming the truth in the King's words. Of the two remaining Fire Born, I'd been chosen by the Morrigan to be the evil one, the one like her. With her blood. The one she could easily wield and control through Accursed Arts. I was the weapon, not Max, and the Underworld needed me. Capturing Max, threatening my family, was the sure way to lead me into their grasp. The Battle was only a ruse, just like Ryan had said.
I shook the red from my sight, my eyes scratching like sandpaper underneath the lids, and the char of smoke grated into my nose, down my throat.
Elethan folded his hands in front of him. "If you refuse, as you say, then they will die. The ones you love. Aligning with me is the only way to keep all of them alive. Even your ... faithful watchdog here. He will still be cursed, but he will be alive." He gestured toward Justice. "I would consider my options carefully, Princess. Turn around."
I turned, slowly, and muffled a scream with my hand. Max hung by chains from his shoulders, feet dangling above the ground, his chest bare, slashed and bleeding. His right eye swollen shut and bruised. His entire body caked in mud, dirt, and blood. Scratches and cuts covered every inch of him, his clothes torn, as though he'd been dragged by his arms before being latched to the far end of a massive wooden structure.
An enormous pendulum swung a steel mallet the size of an oak tree, to and fro, blocking my way to him and threatening to rip the entire structure apart. From the base of the structure, rusted axes hacked through the air in random, mismatched patterns. Crudely hammered steel swords shot up from the base, stabbing wildly. The structure shook so violently I thought it might crash down on itself in a heap. It resembled something from medieval times.
"A gauntlet," Justice said beside me in what sounded like awe. "You sick bastard." His gaze remained fixed as if he was memorizing the movements of the swinging blades.
"You thought I would not harm my own son?" Elethan gave a full belly laugh, throwing his head back. "You mistake me for the Tuatha Dé. Here is what I propose, Princess—if you can reach MacKenzie, you are free to take him. I cannot promise he will still be alive, but he is free to go, and I will give you my word not to harm him further if he survives."
"Fine." Justice stepped forward, shoulders squared.
"Ah, no. The girl must free him." Elethan sneered at me. "If you survive, uninjured, you may leave, and no further harm will come to your family—at least not by my hand. I believe your own hand has done enough."
The gash on Max's throat bled down his chest. My hand. My knife.
"If you fail," the King went on, "you will join me. In the Shadows. I have the remainder of my guard stationed around the Otherworld's perimeter. If you succeed, they fall back. Deceive me, and they attack your Realm."
"Let him go." My words growled out, my gaze glued on Max's lifeless body. "You can have me, just let him go."
"Layla." Justice growled beside me.
The King smiled wide. "I believe I am the one with the upper hand, and I say, show me what you can really do, Princess. I would very much like to know." He took a step back. "Can you save the one you love?"
Justice unsheathed his swords.
I put a hand on his arm. "Don't."
He eyed me, face screwed up with an evil that truly startled me.
"This is my fight, Justice."
He shook his head. "No such thing. Your fights are my fights."
I stared into his deep blue eyes. "You're my sworn angel. So you should be able to hear me."
His eyes widened, but he didn't speak.
"Thought so." I gave a quick grin. "This is my fight, and I'm telling you to let me fight it."
"Don’t even think about it." He shook his head.
"I can make it through."
"No. This is some kind of stupid joke." He moved a few steps forward and placed his foot on the base of the structure. Steel swords shot up at random, inches from his leg. "You're not doing this."
"We are wasting time! When I get through, you get Max, and get out of here."
"No." He put his other foot on the edge and stood up tall on the platform.
"Justice. I’m not kidding. Get down." Maces and rusted swords flew within inches of his face. I gritted my teeth. "When I get through, get him home." I stood up on the platform, at his side. "To my grandmother."
"I'm not leaving you here, and you're not going through this piece of shit death trap! No. Not happening."
"Goddammit!" I threw my arm out, and a wall of fire erupted from the ground, separating us from Elethan. "I'm ordering you to take him and go!" I pointed to where Max hung, praying he wasn't already dead. "I can't lose you, too!" My head dropped. "Please."
Justice stared, jaw working, eyes darkening to pools. "You're insane to think you can make it through. You will die if you don't."
I watched the gauntlet’s every move, my hands on fire. "Then I'll die. Just get him out. Get yourself out." I didn't glance at him, only stared at the movements of the swinging, jabbing weapons. Swiping my hand through the air, the wall of fire died.
The King chuckled. "Impressive."
Not responding to him, I glanced at Justice, who'd turned white. "Once I make it through, I'll torch this thing, you'll be on your way with Max, and I'll follow. Deal?"
"No deals." He shook his head.
"Deal?" I squeezed my hands into fists, pulling flames up my arms, into my core.
"I swear, Layla, if you get even one scratch, one little scratch—I will kill you myself!"
I cracked a smile. Justice winked, and I ran for it.
To my horror, one, two, three, swords whipped past my head at dizzying speed. I jumped to the side just as an axe lurched toward my leg, hacking into the side of my shoe. Skipping away, I lost my balance, and turned into the path of the crushing mallet. It missed my head by a centimeter.
"Layla, dammit!" Justice's form grew in my periphery as he paced the edge. "You have to be quick!"
"Stay where you are." I gasped, freezing in place, watching the mallet's rhythm. Another group of mismatched rusted blades and hatchets swung wildly in front of me, Max beyond them, ashen faced and bloody. I prayed he was still alive. On another step, a glancing strike of a sword I hadn't noticed ripped into my calf, spilling blood down my leg. With a scream, I staggered but remained upright.
"Layla!"
Hands pulsating, I took another staggered step into the melee. Justice was right—I was insane to think I could make it. "I'm okay." Shallow breaths escaped my lungs as my leg seared with pain.
"Stay where you are! I'm coming in."
"No! That's not how this works." The pain was almost unbearable. I didn't dare look down at my calf, but fought to stay focused, take in every swipe, every swing, as rage built inside me, as the blades whipped by. "I have to do this. Elethan said me."
"Screw him. Don't move. I'm serious." His massive form blurred at my right side.
I took another step forward, balancing on my good leg, and narrowly missed another axe.
"Dammit, Layla!"
My breathing further shallowed, coming out in uneven gasps. I moved again, grabbed a set of wooden anchors overhead, and set them on fire. Blades fell in a burning crumble at my feet. The rope swinging the giant mallet caught and burned free, throwing the weapon into the tree line. I glanced over at Justice for a split second, and another rope charred through. A rusted sword fell and sliced across my arm, flaying the muscle in two.
I cried out and dropped to my knees just as a swinging axe took a swipe, gashing my shoulder to the bone.
Justice sprinted forward, wings spread wide, and lifted me off the gauntlet.
Blood spilled onto the
ground around my arm, down my leg. Sweat rolled down my neck. The heat from the smoldering black ruin next to me turned our surroundings into an oven.
Justice scooped a hand under my head. "Layla."
Enthusiastic applause broke through my fierce breathing. "Very good, Princess. I expected more, truly, but with no real weapons training, you did very well." Elethan clasped his hands together and grinned. "I'm not quite sure if I would call it a victory, though. Using fire to destroy the gauntlet could be seen as cheating, and as I said before, you needed to run it uninjured."
I glanced away from him and at Justice, cold shock ricocheting through my body at the sight of my blood pooling around me. "Take Max and go."
His head was already shaking back and forth.
"He will die, Justice." I stared at him.
"So will you."
"The Oghams will heal me. It's just a few cuts." I hoped that was true. "Take Max to my grandmother. I'm ordering you."
His hard stare veered toward the gauntlet and Max, white from blood loss, strapped to the far end of it, fire coming close to his body as the structure continued to burn.
"Go. While you still can. Please. I'll be right behind you."
"Layla—"
"That's an order." We stared at each other, and in a swoop, Justice had Max, half-burnt gauntlet and all, off the ground. He spun in midair and disappeared in the smoky haze. Only his thoughts remained.
"You better be behind me!"
Pushing onto unsteady legs, I glared at the King, knowing he would never let me leave, even if I had won the challenge. Everyone I cared about had managed to flee the Shadows—that was as much as he would give, and I would take it. Gladly. I would keep it that way. Keep the Fomore Guard at bay, away from the Otherworld. Away from the ones I loved.
"Everyone lives," I said, staring at him, already feeling the golden, red-tipped Oghams drawing themselves all over my injuries, uncoiling on my wrists, my shoulders, healing me.
Elethan inclined his head. "Agreed."
"Go back on your word to me, touch anyone I care about, and I promise you, nothing in this world will be left standing. Not even you."
20
JUSTICE
“Why isn’t it working?”
Layla's grandmother placed her wrinkled, trembling hands on Max's still body as he lay in the Otherworld Infirmary. The expression around her sad eyes told me far more than I wanted to know. "It is Accursed Arts, Child. The workings of an ancient Demon blade. I will do what I can, but ..." She shook her head, her white eyed gaze focused toward Max's throat. "This type of magic is beyond my knowledge."
All I could do was nod and stare. It was the only thing I'd done to help Max since the Demon blade whizzed out of Layla's hand and slit his throat. Stand there. Stare. Like a comatose victim. Saying nothing. Doing nothing.
"Will he be okay?" The words left my mouth as I glanced at the elder Queen, the same way they leave everyone's mouth who already knows the answer to that question. I'd known the answer from the second the blood from Max's neck sprayed his face, his shirt, the snow around his feet. It was the reason I'd stood still. In shock. Disbelief. The reason all the angels had. I just couldn't admit it to myself in that second. Layla was my priority, and she was also my excuse not to think, not to look, not to let the truth sink in. All the while knowing …
Max wouldn't be okay.
"I do not know the extent of the exposure, so I cannot say," the Queen said. "If the blade was cursed ... the toxins, mixed with the poison in MacKenzie's Fomorian Crest, could put him under." She twisted her hands together. "If he has been under too long … if the poisons have taken over, overwhelmed his Ogham Etchings, there is a chance ...” She spoke the last words under her breath, “Child, he may not wake.”
I felt the weight of her words crash down on top of me, like wave after crashing wave. Attempting to keep my head above water, I knew the tightening stab in my chest would never go away but would continue to sear through my lungs, my heart, and eat me from the inside out like incurable disease. Like it had Ryan. And Sam. Without Max, the curse would feed through the remaining angels like a contagious plague. Without him, we wouldn't last a month.
Any of us.
Only his constant breathing assured me he was still alive. "What do you mean he may not wake?"
"It is akin to a coma. There would be no way to reach him, no way of knowing when or if he would waken.” She hesitated. “It is something Elethan would do. A simple way of disabling his son without actually harming him. Regardless of what he may have told you, he needs MacKenzie—may even love him in his own way.”
"Wait ... Layla threw the blade ... not Elethan." I gestured to Max.
"Demon blades are products of the Shadows, cast in the Underworld. They have been around for centuries and used during the Uprising, as you know. As you also know, they are a Demon God's weapon." Her brows rose. "Elethan's weapon. I still do not understand the full extent of how the Demon blade made it into Teine's hands to begin with, or what role you say Agrona played, but I do believe the King made sure it got into her grasp. Do not forget, we are dealing with the Morrigan. Agrona, who although Tristan assured me was still in her hovel trying to cast her own spells, has seemed to very much play a role in my granddaughter's current state of mind. The Morrigan has a very far reach. Who she has at her disposal is hard to say."
"While we were training, Layla said that the Demon blade felt like it was alive in her hand. A few times, it threw itself. I thought that was a good sign—that maybe the blade was responding to her wants."
"Or the wants of someone close to her." She lifted a brow. "Someone residing within her."
I let out a breath. “So he could stay this way—Max could stay like this for …” I couldn’t finish. For how long? They were Gods. It wasn’t like they had ninety human years to live and that was it. They could live for thousands upon thousands of years—if the Morrigan saw fit, I guessed. The enormity of it was too much to bear.
"There is always hope, Child." She patted my arm. "I will do all that I can, but he needs Teine."
Staring at Max, I shook my head. How had it all come to this? Sam was dead. Maybe, along with Ryan, he could find some peace—I didn't know, but nothing anyone could say would ever ease the loss. For Benny, Tristan, or me. Still, I couldn't take my eyes off of Max or respond intelligently to anything the Queen was saying. He was colorless under the speckles and smears of blood dotting his face, arms, and neck. Even his Oghams were still. They'd turned white, void of any green, void of all life.
I had been sure the Fomorian Coat of Arms on his neck would bring him back, join the split souls and revive him—the same way the Morrigan's presence brought Layla back—even the playing field like I'd said to Layla, but clearly I'd been wrong. Souls joining, not joining, I had no idea. Either way, Max was dying. King Elethan didn't want him no matter what the Queen said. He didn't care about his son, only Layla. Correction: only Teine. The Fire Goddess.
The Ancient who was the true Fire Born Queen. She could defeat the Morrigan, Elethan could rule the Realms, keep the Tuatha Dé in check, and control Layla at the same time. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. Layla, who'd promised to follow me after I rescued Max, but had never shown up in the Otherworld.
She was our only hope. Max's only hope.
"So, you ready?" Tristan stood in the doorway, laden with his arsenal of weapons, leather harnesses holding swords and knives strapped to his back and slung across his hips.
"You sure you're ready for this?" I heaved a breath, finally shifting my gaze away from Max. "I'm fine going alone."
"You're not going back into that hell hole alone." He stood proud, and I still didn't understand why he didn't seem sick anymore. No crutches, no circles under his eyes, no pale skin. "We don't have a lot of time, so ..." He motioned for me to follow him out the door, taking a glance toward Max before shifting his gaze away just as fast.
With a squeeze of Max's still hand, I said, "You'r
e my best friend, my family. I'll be back, and you better be awake." I pushed away from the side of the bed and followed Tristan to the door.
"Boys," the elder Queen said. "You will only have one opportunity, one shot to get in and get out. I do not care what Elethan says. What he threatens or promises if you happen to encounter him. I do not care where his Guard is lined up or what he plans to do with them in regard to the Otherworld or me." She squared her shoulders. "Get my granddaughter out."
"My Lady." I bowed, and Tristan followed in suit. "We will."
*****
The Shadow Realm gates loomed in the distance underneath a blanket of falling snow and shadows. At the base a small figure stood, hands on her hips, the ends of her white-blonde hair grazing her jaw, fierce eyes daring Tristan or me to say anything.
"You're not going anywhere without me. Let's get that straight." Benny's eyes narrowed at Tristan, who walked toward her.
He cracked a smile. "You sure?"
She crossed her arms over her chest without a word.
"I'll take that as a yes." He strode past her and reached for the lock on the gate. "You don't have to do this, Ben."
She shifted before our eyes, and Layla stood in front us, unharmed, no weird eyes or gash across her neck. No mutilated shoulder and cut open calf. "You need an Ancient to get through the Shadow Realm gate, remember?" Benny asked, and it was eerie hearing her voice come from Layla's mouth. "You need me."
I stared at her, so did Tristan, and then he did something that shocked me completely, he held out his hand. "I'd follow you anywhere, you know that, but please, please switch back to your normal self the second we cross the threshold of the gate, because out of all the forms I've seen you take ... this one is beyond a doubt, the worst."
She grinned, no, she smiled, and took his hand in hers, and I realized why Tristan didn't look sick anymore, wasn't using his crutches anymore. All those weeks he was holed up, sick and dying from the curse, at Grandma Mac's with Benny—she'd healed him. I had no idea how.