by Bella Jacobs
I want the release of death. Not now, but…eventually. And in a reasonable amount of time, not several hundred years from now, after carrying the burden of my unborn baby with me every step of the interminable journey.
I don’t want to be queen. I don’t want to fight Maxim and kill hundreds, if not thousands, of his people. I just want to be left alone to raise my child in a world where it’s safe to be weak or vulnerable. Or simply small or young or unlucky.
But sadly, there is no such world. That place will only exist after I sacrifice everything to create it.
Elsbeth says I will be worshipped as a saint for centuries or longer.
She says I’ll know I made the right decision as soon as we’ve washed the blood from our hands and started to build the world anew. She says the sun will shine brighter and the air smell sweeter than it ever has before. She says I will be filled with a joy so intense it will send tears of gratitude streaming down my face.
I hold tight to that image—that hope—as I push the door open and step into the small, circular room where the witches have been hard at work.
Three gray heads turn my way as I step inside, a mixture of weariness, excitement, and pride on their faces. But I can’t focus on any one of them for long, not with their handiwork strapped to the wall behind them.
It’s Bane, but not as he was. He’s been stripped of his veneer of humanity, and his innate monstrosity is on full display.
His bloodshot eyes meet mine across the room and a roar rumbles from his chest. The sound vibrates my bones, but only the faintest sound escapes his lips. They’ve been sewn shut with thick black thread and likely spelled with some sort of magic. His mouth doesn’t move at all as he bellows. The entire bottom half of his face is still and slack, almost as if the witches elected to leave that part of him dead while they brought the rest of him back to life.
“Don’t worry, he can’t hurt you,” a surprisingly youthful voice says.
I glance over to see a woman not much older than I am at my elbow. Her hair is as gray as that of the two older women a few feet behind her, but her face and body are clearly no older than thirty-five, forty tops.
“He has the same hunger for human flesh as all the undead, but we bound his mouth with a forbidding spell,” she explains. “Even if he manages to escape, he’ll never be able to feed or infect anyone with his bite.”
“But he won’t escape,” the taller woman behind her assures me. “He’s locked tight. Elsbeth has the only key, which will only work when held in her own hand. And she certainly won’t set him free.”
“And eventually he’ll grow too weak to cause any trouble,” the shorter older woman supplies. “You’ll be able to literally bury him alive down here and forget about him.”
“Or bury him undead,” the younger woman says, setting off a round of giggles.
I stare at them until they’re finished.
I can’t image laughing like that—so light and carefree—ever again. I can’t imagine laughing at all.
“I think he’ll require a bit more maintenance, unfortunately. His torture is required for the ritual to work,” I say. “At least at first.”
“Oh, he’ll suffer, no need to worry about that.” The youngest one, the apparent leader, motions toward Bane. “We didn’t do anything about his hunger, just his ability to feed. He will be in perpetual, unceasing torment and you won’t have to lift a finger. It’s really a pretty brilliant solution, if we do say so ourselves. And as Janice said, he will eventually grow so weak he won’t make any noise or move around much.” Her dark eyes dance as she lifts a finger in the air. “But that doesn’t mean he’s not suffering. Just that he won’t have the strength to complain about it.”
Bane groans, an imploring sound that makes me seek out his eyes again.
They’re milky, like I’m seeing them through a fog, but they’re not completely empty, the way I thought at first. There’s still a spark in there, an echo of the man he was before—faint but loud enough to hear.
“He’s still in there, isn’t he?” I ask, my spirits lifting a little.
“He is,” Janice, the shortest one, says, a hint of regret in her tone. “The deepest kernel of his soul, anyway.”
“But don’t feel bad about it,” the leader says, waving a breezy hand. “Believe it or not, a zombie body is way better than where he was before we brought him back. Pieces of shit like him end up in the lowest levels of the netherworld. And the rehabilitation process is brutal.” She exhales with a shake of her head. “No way am I ending up back there again. I’m keeping my karmic load light this time around and sticking around for at least another eighty years.”
I glance back to her, studying her face more closely than I did before.
She grins. “Youth spell. It’s my specialty. So don’t worry, your majesty. If you start feeling your age in a couple decades, I should still be around to help you out.” She gives my arm a gentle squeeze. “I’m Ola, by the way. And I want to thank you personally for what you’re doing for us and for a better future for all women and children. We won’t forget it. Not a one of us.”
The two other women murmur their agreement, and I do my best to release the resistance still dragging at my heels, making every step feel heavier than the one before.
Bane makes his begging sound again, almost as if he can sense my weakness.
I snap my attention back to his face, my eyes narrowing as I promise him, “No matter what happens next, this is how you end. Even if Maxim’s forces overpower ours, he won’t save you. No one will save you. You’re just a battery now, a power source to be used by your betters.”
He growls again, straining against his bonds, rage making every vein in his bare neck stand out.
I smile as I add, “You’ll finally be useful. For the first time in your wretched, arrogant, wasted life. I hope that makes it easier to not sleep at night.”
I turn, moving slowly back toward the door as my former mate rages impotently behind me.
At least this feels good.
This feels really, really good.
It feels so good that I’m still smiling when I emerge into the chilly early evening air to see two of our battalion leaders running toward me from the camp.
“Helicopters,” Harmon says, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “Our spies in the city saw them leave a few minutes ago. They’re cloaked with a spell but moving fast. At least twenty of them. They should be here by nightfall. Maybe sooner.”
My smile fades, but so does my resistance, replaced by determination not to be on the losing side of this battle. I’m no angel—I just proved that down in the pit—but I’m going to make a better world than Maxim ever will.
He’s not a terrible man, he’s just not good enough, and our poor planet has suffered more than anything should have to.
It’s time for change on a massive scale.
It’s time to give all creatures, no matter how much power they wield, a reason to feel hopeful about the future.
Standing straighter, I give the order, “Launch the phoenix offensive,” I say, nodding when Harmon looks surprised. “It’s our best chance to disable their forces with the least loss of life on either side. We’ll make the camp look like it’s been destroyed by fire, lure them in to capture the few people left behind, and then emerge from the portals, surrounding them and hopefully triggering a swift surrender. We don’t want to obliterate these people. We just need them to understand it’s time to step aside and embrace something better.”
Harmon salutes me. “I’ll give the order,” he says, then adds, “my queen,” for the first time.
The pride in his voice—pride for being on the right, kinder, gentler side of history—strengthens my resolve.
I can do this. And I will.
And when it’s all over I’ll know that I’ve done the right thing when I look into my people’s eyes and see their confidence in me.
Ignoring the softer voice in my head whispering that people are masters o
f contradiction—accomplished at being both proud of their choices and completely misguided at the same time—I let the witches lead the way back to my cabin to prepare for the ritual.
The moon is already rising, and Ola has promised to help Elsbeth bind me to the sword. I want her magic and her stabilizing faith in me close until the deed is done and it’s too late for any of us to turn back.
Chapter Sixteen
Willow
I intend to honor Maxim’s wishes—and my promise to remain at the tower—I really do.
When I say goodbye on the roof, clinging to him a few extra seconds as we kiss, then memorizing the way his dark hair whips around his face as the helicopters fire up for flight, I do so without a single disobedient thought in my head.
I stand, waving as the helicopters take off and praying for the safe return of all our people—and my person in particular. Then I turn and head down to the enforcer offices.
Pax was so amazing at kidnapping that he managed to knock himself unconscious on his way to getting tangled in the monkey bars, so no one was able to interrogate him before the troops had to leave. But on my way up to the roof Hermione told me he was awake, and I promised to come lend a hand with his questioning.
As a former member of Pax’s pack, I know him better than anyone around here, but I’m not sure how much help I’ll be.
Pax is a shitty liar, not to mention a coward, and I fully expect him to cave under the slightest pressure. They could probably send a few toddlers from the Atrium play yard down to threaten him and he’d crack at the first sign of bared baby teeth.
But still, it’s something to do to keep my mind off the fact that Maxim is flying off to face an army twice the size of his own.
Mom worked her magic on the other packs this afternoon, undoing Cam’s brainwashing, and our allies are working to assemble their own forces as quickly as possible. Boston will be ready to offer backup by early tomorrow morning and the others not long after, but for the first offensive, we’re on our own.
I understand they were blindsided, but I can’t help thinking that if they truly believed what my pack gift has foretold, they’d figure out a way to hurry up already. I mean, sure a Thorn ends up in control, but the version of the world Diana was left to rule felt pretty scary.
But I’m a stranger to them, a nobody. Despite the fact that I’m engaged to marry one of the most influential Alphas in the eastern United States, I’m easy to ignore.
Would that still be the case if I were a man?
Maybe. Maybe not.
Wolf culture is still as misogynistic as ever, but if Maxim and I have our way, it won’t be for long. At least not in North Star Tower. He’s completely on board with my plans to form a women’s advisory board and instigate other changes that will make this pack a kinder, more inclusive place for people who have typically been overlooked.
I honestly believe that.
When I look into Maxim’s eyes now, I see all the way to the heart of him. He won’t lie to me or deceive me again. Because he loves me and respects me, and because he fully understands that if he fucks up again, I’m going to wrap his balls in fishing line and hang him upside down from the Atrium staircase.
So, when I walk into the interrogation room to hear Pax weaving some bullshit story about Maxim asking him to snatch me so he wouldn’t have to marry a loser, I just laugh.
Hermione does, too.
“Shut the fuck up,” Pax says, scowling as he slouches lower in the metal chair he’s chained to. In his bright yellow track suit with the white stripes down the arms and shiny new sneakers, he looks like an overgrown kid. And he stands out in the gray space like a flashing neon light.
“Not only are you a bad liar,” I muse, crossing to lean against the mirrored wall beside Hermione. “You’re ridiculous.” I motion to his clothes. “Who picked out your outfit? Whoever it was definitely wanted you to get caught. Was it you? Are you the architect of this fashion no-no?” I press on in a condescending voice, enjoying the way his upturned pig nose turns red in response. “If it was, you’re clearly sending out an unconscious cry for help.”
“Fuck you,” he grumbles again. “Like you’re so smart. You didn’t even know your sister was alive until a few days ago.”
I fight a smile.
Really, he makes it too easy.
“So, my sister sent you,” I say, a suspicion he confirms by scowling harder and sinking even lower in his seat, until his entire neck disappears into the top of his jacket. “And let me guess…she was hoping to get me out of the way so she wouldn’t have to kill me in the battle tonight? It was her last-ditch attempt to protect me?”
He rolls his eyes and mutters something beneath his breath.
“But why would you agree to such a thing?” I ask, pacing closer to his chair. “Did she offer you something you couldn’t refuse? A bathtub filled with cheap vodka and girls in bikinis perhaps? Or are you still secretly in love with me, the way you have been since fifth grade?”
“You should be grateful to me, bitch,” Pax snarls. “My dad didn’t want you anymore, not if you weren’t going to make me king. But I said I’d come get you anyway, so you wouldn’t die. For old time’s sake, since we were kids together and shit.”
Hermione makes a doubtful sound behind me. “And I eat prunes with my oatmeal because I like the taste, not because all this stress has me bound up tighter than a bongo drum.”
Pax shoots a blank look her way. “What?”
“She’s having trouble staying regular,” I translate. “You really are as dumb as a box of rocks.”
His lip curls. “Not too dumb to know kissing up to your sister is the only way to keep the Parallel separate from Human Side.”
I arch a brow and shrug, pretending I know what he’s talking about. “Doubt that’s true, but…whatever you think, Pax.”
“It’s not what I think,” he says, falling into my not-at-all-clever interrogation trap yet again. “Bane had it all set up. He was working with the wraiths lost in the space between the worlds. He promised he’d free them if they helped him blow up all the portals between Human Side and the Parallel so they would collapse into each other or some shit. Kelley could still do the same thing if we don’t talk her out of it. And I don’t want to live in that world. That world would suck.”
I’m inclined to agree with him, though I think it would suck to have Human Side full of Parallel scum.
There are some very nice people living in the Parallel, but there are also a lot of assholes, bullies, and just plain criminal monsters. Even with their faults, I’ll take a majority human population over a majority supernatural one any day.
“Maybe it’s because it’s so much easier for them to be killed,” I wonder aloud, pacing around Pax’s chair. “And they don’t tend to live as long.”
Pax explores another confused look, but Hermione is on my wavelength. “Why they’re less violent? Could be,” she muses. “Or maybe they’re just further along in their evolution toward a civilized society than we are. Their world was pretty brutal in the middle ages.”
“You two deserve to be Kelley’s slaves,” Pax mutters. “Fucking human sympathizers, both of you.”
“What did she promise you?” I ask. “In exchange for kidnapping me and taking me back to Victor, you get…”
“I get you,” Pax says with a snort. “Who’s dumb now?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Pardon me. I didn’t realize your love for me ran that deep.”
“The guy who’s mated to the queen’s sister is going to get treated right,” Pax says, proving he does have at least a few braincells. “And you’re going to hate being married to me,” he says, grinning. “I’m going to make your life fucking miserable. And show you who’s boss. I haven’t forgotten what you said.”
“About your tiny dick?” I ask, playing it cool, not wanting Pax to know how much it hurts that Kelley promised me to a monster.
Guess she’s not interested in my happiness or well-
being anymore, now that I’m no longer her prisoner or being forced to play by her rules.
His grin widens. “No, about me shooting blanks. I’m not. I had my shit tested, bitch. My swimmers are fucked in the Parallel but they’re fine Human Side. So, I just get you pregnant here and take you back there.”
“I’m already pregnant,” I murmur, something about his words pricking at my memory. A moment later, a horrible worry begins to rise inside me. I turn back to Hermione. “Can I see you out in the hall?”
“Yeah, you better run,” Pax jeers as we open the door. “Before I get both of you bitches knocked up.”
“Can I rip his dick off?” Hermione asks beneath her breath as we step into the hall. “It’ll take me two seconds. One hand. Give the go ahead and it’s done. We’ll say he attacked us or something.”
“He doesn’t matter,” I say softly. “But what he said… It makes me wonder…” I pull in a breath, trying to corral my unruly thoughts. “In my vision, I saw two different futures. One where Maxim defeats Kelley tonight and eventually becomes king of the united packs. One where he doesn’t, it takes more time to beat my sister, and Diana eventually becomes queen, but under pretty fraught circumstances. But I didn’t see anything about the Parallel. Nothing. And I didn’t feel it either, didn’t even sense it.”
Her pale brows pinch closer together. “I don’t understand.”
“Usually, in my visions, I have a sense of the Parallel, even though I’ve never had a vision take place there yet. But today it was like…” I bite my lip, willing my panicked brain to calm down and come up with a good analogy. “It’s like when you’re on a boat. You can only see what’s happening on the surface, but you can feel the waves rocking the ship and sense the creatures moving around beneath the water. Like that.”
“Okay,” Hermione says, but she still doesn’t look completely satisfied by my explanation. “But in the vision you had today, there were no waves?”
I shake my head. “No, it was completely…still. Flat. Like it was taking place on solid ground with no water under it at all. Like there was no water.”