Stone Cold Revenge (Set In Stone, Book Two)

by Jess Macallan

  He’d been expecting the question, because he gestured to me. “Why don’t we have Elleodora demonstrate?”

  “Oh shit, Elle,” Teryl muttered, searching the crowd for a way out.

  Jax’s grip tightened. I knew he was preparing to fly us out of here. I also knew we wouldn’t get far.

  I put my hand over his. “No, Jax. I’ll handle this.” I walked over to where my father stood, a few feet from the ruined stage. I took the microphone from him and prayed my nerves wouldn’t cause me to choke. A sea of faces watched me with anticipation. The energy nearly overwhelmed my senses. The crowd’s strange combination of hope and disbelief beat at me.

  I had to clear my throat a few times before my voice would work. “I am a weaver goddess and I can thread souls. But my father is mistaken about a few things. I can’t restore DNA. I can’t make you stronger.”

  Jedren laughed. “My daughter is incorrect. I’m living proof that she can make us stronger. Her mother healed me. I was dead. Emmaline rethreaded my soul, and I gained abilities I’d never had before.”

  Hugh, one of the gargoyles on the Council, stepped forward. “Jedren is telling the truth. Before he met Emmaline, he could shadow for no more than ten seconds before passing out. Now he can shadow for minutes.”

  The guests stirred, restless and excited by the idea. I felt trapped. The pendant began to glow along with the mark on my arm. “No! This isn’t what you think. Rethreading souls doesn’t work like this. Souls can never be rethreaded as they were before.”

  Jedren cast a patronizing look my way. “My dear, that’s the point. The family lines need to be recreated to what they were hundreds of years ago, not as they are now.”

  I wouldn’t be his pawn anymore. I scanned the crowd, wondering who would be happy to see me oppose Jedren and who would want me dead because of it. I’d know allies from enemies soon enough.

  “You are a monster.” I spoke slowly and clearly into the microphone, hoping everyone could hear me. “Your soul is damaged beyond repair. That’s what happens when you rethread a soul. Personalities change. The very fiber of a person’s being changes. I won’t do it. That’s not what the magic is for.”

  He shocked me by ignoring my public contempt and looking out over the crowd. “Then what is your magic for? You’ve been given a gift. Why wouldn’t you want to work to restore the lines as I have these past ten years? My geneticists have slaved, day and night, searching for the problem and the cure, to no avail. And here you are. Able, yet unwilling to try.”

  The crowd’s grumbling grew louder. I couldn’t let him see my fear. He’d backed me into a corner, and he knew it. The bastard was already smug with his victory. In a brilliant move, he’d shifted the focus from him to me. No one would question the soul thefts. No one would question the disappearances. Not when they thought he was working to save the family lines.

  He held up a hand to quiet the crowd. “I propose we give Elleodora a chance to prove herself. If what she says is true, we’ll let it be, and my staff will continue working to pinpoint the root of the issue. However, if she is successful at restoring the soul, we can hold a Council meeting to discuss the next step.”

  I heard a voice in the crowd calling my name. I turned to see MacLean pushing his way through the guests, ten yards away. “Elle, it’s Luke!”

  Jax was closer, but he spun around in the opposite direction, looking for the other hunter. I saw Luke a second too late. He emerged from behind a tree to my father’s left, knife pinched between his fingers. His arm drew back, and he flung the blade in my direction. I knew he wouldn’t miss. He always hit his mark.

  The blade whistled through the air.

  A big body crashed into me, and we hit the ground. The breath was knocked from my lungs. I gasped for air as I pushed at the weight on my chest. Multiple hands pulled at the body on me. When I was free, I rolled over and sucked in oxygen in desperate gulps.

  I could hear Teryl shouting MacLean’s name, over and over. Someone screamed for a healer. I crawled to my knees to see MacLean on the ground a few feet from me. Luke’s blade was embedded in his chest.

  “No.” I scrambled over to him, pushing Teryl and Brenin out of the way. “No, no, no. MacLean!”

  He didn’t move.

  “No, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Gwen…” What had Gwen said? Protect your mate’s soul. The danger will come after the chaos.

  MacLean was also my mate. I hadn’t even considered he might be the one in danger. “Oh, God. MacLean,” I whispered, horrified that I’d let this happen. My hand hovered over the blade, unsure what to do. Blood pooled beneath him. Too much for him to survive.

  He wasn’t breathing.

  Brenin’s face twisted with grief. Teryl stared at MacLean in disbelief and anger. “How’d Luke get so close? Why didn’t anyone notice him hiding in the damn bushes?”

  Brenin’s energy flared, but his voice was restrained. “I intend to find out.”

  I looked up and saw Falon holding Luke in a chokehold. The man who had a contract out to kill me was supposed to restrain the man who had just tried to kill me?

  My father stared at Luke with incredulity. “Why would you attack Elleodora in front of the Council?”

  Luke smiled that hated smile. “She hired me to.”

  Jedren’s expression morphed into anger, but his voice was controlled. “Who hired you?”

  “You know who she is.” Luke then relaxed for a second in Falon’s grasp and shared a look with the hunter. “I need to fulfill my contract.”

  I looked back down at MacLean and put a hand on his cheek. “MacLean, please open your eyes.” Someone dropped down on the other side of him, where Brenin had been. It was Blythe, the light elf who’d healed my injuries in Scotland.

  “Please help him,” I pleaded in a low voice. “Heal him like you did me.”

  Blythe stared at the knife, then looked at his face, which was still and pale. “I’m sorry,” she said. “My healing is limited to those with a spark of life in their energy.”

  MacLean was dead. The grief that hit me was so intense I couldn’t draw in a breath.

  The sound of a wail echoed in my ears. For a moment, I thought it was coming from me, but no. Luke had broken free from Falon’s grasp and was heading straight for me. I had a split-second to wonder if Falon had purposefully let him go to finish the job they both seemed to be intent on—killing me.

  Luke was halfway to me before anyone could react. Without hesitation, I stood and let the words of the ward fill my mind, drawing on knowledge I hadn’t possessed before today. Energy pulsed through the ward marks and my gold tattoo as I directed the magic at him. My dagger and pendant both hummed when the ward hit Luke, dropping him to his knees. I didn’t even flinch when he cried out and reached for the knife in MacLean’s chest. He wouldn’t get to use it on me this time. The ward finished its magic, and seconds later, Luke’s sightless eyes stared at me.

  Promise kept, you bastard. One down, one to go.

  The combination of adrenaline and grief was slightly nauseating. I switched my attention back to MacLean. Blythe was still crouched beside him. She stared impassively at Luke’s limp form, before repeating, “I’m sorry. The spark of life is gone.”

  “He has it. I can see it. Look at his soul. It’s there.”

  She had to see it. The light was fading, but it was still there.

  “You’re not looking hard enough. It’s there,” I repeated. “You have to hurry before it goes out.”

  Silence was my only answer. I looked up to see Teryl and Blythe staring at me with strange expressions. “What are you waiting for? He’s going to die if you don’t hurry.”

  Sorrow pulled at the corners of her mouth. “I think he’s already gone. I can’t help him. You have the ability to detect souls. Perhaps that’s what you can see right now.”

  Brenin reappeared and crouched next to Blythe. “Elle, can you rethread his soul?”

  I froze.

  Rethread MacLean�
��s soul? I knew it was a bad idea. I stared down at his still form. A hunk of auburn hair fell across his forehead. I carefully brushed it away.

  “I can try,” I said, knowing I’d have to kill him, too, if he turned out like my father.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  MacLean’s big body was sprawled on the ground. No breath, no pulse. No spark of life. I couldn’t imagine not seeing his striking copper eyes again. He couldn’t die, not today. Not like this, and not for me.

  “Elle, his soul is still there. Barely. I don’t think we have much time.” Teryl sat near MacLean’s head. His boyish face was drawn tight with anxiety.

  I took hold of MacLean’s limp hand, trying to quell the trembling in mine. My best friend’s anxiety fueled my own. Not much time. Could I do it?

  Luna’s voice broke past the horrible, terrified thoughts running through my mind, making me jerk with surprise. This is Gwen’s prediction coming to pass, Buttercup. Thread his soul. Now!

  I had no idea if Luna was really speaking to me or if I was channeling her chiding voice. All I knew was that I needed all the help I could get.

  Jax crouched beside me, resting a warm, heavy hand on my shoulder. He was still full gargoyle, his large wings tucked behind him. I let him look me over. He vibrated with anger and possibly fear, but I couldn’t be sure. I focused on the fading energy of the man on the ground.

  “I don’t know if I can save him,” I whispered. My mouth was dry, and I couldn’t swallow past the lump in my throat.

  “The fate reader declared it. I will help in any way I’m able to. You can do this, little gem.” Jax sounded so sure of my ability. An ability I had only tested once. Twice, if you counted the plant, which I didn’t. This was MacLean’s life on the line. I didn’t think I could handle it if I failed him in this. Gemma’s situation had been different; she hadn’t been my childhood sweetheart.

  I released MacLean’s hand, putting it gently on the ground before placing my dagger between my teeth and bringing my hands over his chest. The threads of his soul were disappearing. I made fists and tried not to recoil from the unpleasant sensation of his soul fading, like an essential part of me was being peeled away. This energy wasn’t heavy, like Gemma’s and the plant’s. This was painful, like the air around him was full of shards of glass.

  Ohgodohgodohgod. In my mind’s eye, I took ahold of the threads. MacLean’s soul had unraveled quickly. Damn Luke and his “Princess.”

  Trust your instincts, weaver, Luna’s voice urged in my head. I heard the undercurrent of worry she couldn’t quite hide. I wished she were here to help. She’d say something nasty and…

  Get a grip and do it!

  I held his soul gently, ignoring the way the energy scratched at my skin. Words that had belonged to weaver goddesses through time whispered in my mind as I worked to thread his soul. Sweat beaded along my brow as I poured my energy into the process. Jax kept his hand on my shoulder, giving me all the energy he could.

  One agonizing pass at a time, the threads seemed to struggle against me. Gemma’s had been reluctant, but MacLean’s actively resisted.

  Please live, please live, I chanted to his soul. I was barely aware of the pendant at my throat warming with the effort I exerted. This had to work. Energy shifted and pulsed around me as I placed a thread where I hoped it belonged. A moment’s hesitation cost me, and I was forced to go back a few threads and rework the pattern. All along, I focused on MacLean’s energy, the echo of his soul. Waiting for a hint that told me I was doing it right.

  He remained quiet and still, and the threads of his soul lost their resistance. Only the faint pulse of life under my hands told me there was still hope. Come on MacLean, I whispered to his soul. Please work with me.

  The faintest flicker of life vibrated at my urging. I kept weaving, placing each strand into his soul’s distinctive pattern. Or what I hoped was his pattern.

  Gemma’s soul had retained enough intact threads that the pattern had been easier to distinguish. I pushed the doubt back down and continued to work. Murmured conversations teased the edge of my awareness, but I pushed them away, too.

  The words that spun around in my head helped coax the threads in the right direction. I hesitated again, which was a mistake. His soul’s energy faded, and I froze in panic. MacLean, my mind screamed. Don’t leave; please don’t leave.

  “Breathe and move slowly,” I heard Jax say.

  I didn’t acknowledge him as I tried to focus, but I was aware enough to know he was right. I paused to inhale and exhale before resuming. Please, MacLean, I urged his soul. Please come back. It was the only mantra I could think of.

  The minutes crawled by, one excruciating second at a time. Every cell in my body seemed to tremble with exhaustion when I put the final strand in place. Resting my head on MacLean’s left shoulder, I focused on my breath while I willed him to take one.

  “Please be okay,” I whispered next to his ear. “Don’t make me rethread that son of a bitch’s evil soul just to kill him all over again. Don’t let Luke win.”

  Strong hands gripped my shoulders and gently pulled me to my feet. I didn’t protest as Jax moved me a short distance away from MacLean. “Give Brenin room to heal MacLean. He can finish what you started.”

  Brenin leaned over MacLean’s body, which lay far too still. If I hadn’t seen in my mind’s eye the faint pulse of life in his soul, I’d think he was dead. The ward marks dotting my body hummed with energy as the streaks of light sparked out of Brenin. I’d seen one other light elf in healing mode, but I didn’t remember light arcing out of Blythe at any point. As their king, Brenin had considerable power. I only hoped it was enough.

  My eyes felt gritty with unshed tears. Jax took ahold of my hands, stilling the trembling. I couldn’t look away from MacLean. He hadn’t hesitated to jump in front of Luke’s knife. He’d said he’d wait for me because he was still my mate, yet I hadn’t even thought of him when Gwen had made her awful prediction.

  “I didn’t know he was the one I had to protect,” I whispered.

  Jax placed a finger under my chin and turned my head so I met his gaze. “You couldn’t have known. You did what you could for him. The rest is up to Brenin, and MacLean’s will to live.”

  I tried for a smile but failed. “I should have known. Gwen warned me. I thought it would be you. And then after Maura…” I left the rest unsaid. Jax had also stepped in front of me as a protector.

  Elion had told me I needed a mate who would stand beside me. He’d been wrong. I needed to be the one to stand beside my mate. Both of them. Jax was the mate of my heart. MacLean would always hold a place there, too.

  “Elle, look.” The hope in Teryl’s voice almost didn’t register through my grief. Jax gently nudged me. I looked down in time to see MacLean’s torso hitch with one breath, and another. A few seconds later, those copper eyes opened, staring straight at me. My knees wobbled with relief, and Jax helped me stay upright. Wild emotions made me choke on my words. “M-MacLean, you’re o-okay.”

  The fire in his eyes flared, matching the heat in his voice. “What did you do to me?”

  Before I could answer, Jedren cut in, “Take him to the parlor. We’ll tend him—”

  I cut Jedren off, still holding MacLean’s furious gaze. “No. Bring him to the guesthouse. I’ll take care of him there.”

  My father didn’t say a word as his guards slid a board from the stage under MacLean, picked him up, and took him to the house.

  Brenin cleared his throat. “Elleodora deserves a place on the Council. I offer my support to her petition and move to vote now.”

  Crap. This was the last thing I wanted to deal with. I watched MacLean until he and the guards were out of sight.

  “I agree,” stated another Council member. “I vote in favor of Elleodora Fredricks taking a seat on the Council.”

  The remaining Council members approached the group and gave their consent. Their expressions ranged from anticipation to unease. I didn’t feel comple
tely sick until my father said, “We must call a meeting within the next few days to determine when she’ll start threading the souls.”

  The most horrific sight of the day wasn’t Maura in a million pieces. It wasn’t even MacLean’s still form. It was the triumphant smile that spread across my father’s face. Too bad he was forgetting one thing: I now had the power to destroy him. Once the souls were safe.

  The irony of the situation gave me the strength to stand tall in spite of his smile. The power that made him proud of me—for the first time in my life—was the same power I’d wield to fulfill my vow.

  Soon.

  Acknowledgments

  First and foremost I have to thank the amazing team at Entangled Publishing. They work tirelessly to make each book fabulous.

  Special thanks to my editor Caro, who pushes me to create books I’m thrilled to present to readers. Without her input, I don’t know what I’d do. She rocks.

  Much thanks to my editor Stacy. The polished shine on this book is due to her considerable knowledge and brilliant suggestions.

  I offer my heartfelt appreciation to the staff at my local Barnes & Noble. They let me write, drink copious amounts of tea, and people-watch to my heart’s content.

  And of course, I have to thank my family. Without their patience and understanding, I’d be hard-pressed to find the sanity or time to write. Actually, I bribed them, but they stuck to their end of the bargain, so it looks like I have to take them to Disney World. Wish me luck.

  About the Author

  Jess Macallan lives in the Inland Northwest with her husband and three children. She thrives on creative chaos. Curiosity drives her to try new things as often as possible. When not writing or chasing trouble, she teaches yoga, reads, knits, runs a mini farm, watches Mixed Martial Arts, and gardens. The only things she takes seriously are chocolate, tea, and world domination. But mostly chocolate.