The walkway dangled brokenly from the framework, with only a few bolts still supporting it. Her body had slid underneath the railing, and her arms were stretched to their full length to hold on. Addie dug her fingers between the boards. Every shred of stolen magic fled her.
Bran stared down at her from an intact section of the platform. “Swear to me, Adelina,” he said. “And I will pull you up.”
All Addie’s bravery and defiance vanished with a hundred-and-twenty-foot drop beneath her feet and her fingers slipping. Even knowing that she couldn’t trust Bran didn’t matter. “I’ll swear!” she sobbed. “Please!” Another bolt popped. The walkway jerked down a bit farther, and although Bran reached for her, Addie’s precarious hold was jarred loose.
She fell, screaming.
Clouds caught her.
That was what it felt like. Squishy, bouncy clouds.
Addie jerked, like she did when she had a dream of falling and woke up in her bed. She was not in bed waking up from a dream, however, but suspended in the sky a few yards beneath the water tower. Shrieking, she flailed her arms, desperately seeking something to hold on to and finding nothing but squishiness.
And dark, furry bodies that squeaked and scurried around and over her.
She wasn’t falling. It took a few seconds for Addie’s brain to accept that, and when she did, she grew very still, afraid to break the spell. She was nestled in a pocket of opalescent magic, sharing the space with half a dozen brownies. Now that she’d quit thrashing around, they’d stopped squealing and were all staring at her.
This was a brownie hole. The brownies had opened a hole beneath her in midair, and she’d fallen into it. “You caught me,” she said.
Some of the brownies cocked their heads. Others rotated their ears.
“Did Jax send you?” Addie looked for the one with the goofy white tuft of hair—Stink—but he didn’t seem to be here. “Can you—” She felt stupid, asking questions of brownies, but Jax talked to his like he expected the creature to understand. “Can you get me out of here? Without letting me fall?”
One of the brownies leaped excitedly around in a circle. Addie took that for a yes.
She looked up at the water tower and inhaled a couple times, screwing up her courage.
“Can you get me back on that platform?”
35
DORIAN’S STRUGGLES GREW WEAKER as Griffyn held him under water. Ten seconds . . . fifteen seconds. Evangeline sobbed and pleaded for Griffyn to stop. Jax bucked and strained against Ysabel’s headlock, but the girl had hands of iron.
Twenty seconds.
The Girl of Crows shuffled forward as if she wanted to see the drowning close at hand. Her black-feathered companions, perched on the lamppost, watched their mistress with glittering eyes. She bent over, reached into the water—
—and emerged with the Sword of Nuadu. When she looked up, it was with the pale face and trembling lips of a frightened girl.
“Let go of my brother,” Lesley Ambrose said in a shaky voice.
Griffyn froze with his mouth hanging open. Perhaps he was too shocked at being addressed by the Morrigan to respond to her command. His hand remained on the back of Dorian’s head.
“Let him go!” Lesley hefted the Sword over her shoulder. “Now!”
“Griffyn,” said Condor. “You’d better do what she—”
Lesley swung the Sword like a baseball bat and smacked Griffyn in the head with the flat side of the blade. He howled in pain and surged to his feet, releasing Dorian, who floundered before getting his head above water. Jax watched anxiously while his cousin gulped in air, gagged, then doubled over and vomited up water.
Griffyn backed away, holding one hand to the side of his face. Lesley stepped between the brawny Kin and her brother, breathing rapidly and holding the Sword awkwardly in both hands. Her eyes darted around like she was trying to figure out where she was. She gasped when she saw her father, motionless and propped against a lamppost, and her eyes grew wide at the sight of all the Kin watching her. Then her gaze fell on Jax. “Am I dreaming?” she whispered.
“No, Lesley,” Jax called. “This is real. It’s good to see you back!”
But was she? How could she touch the Sword if she was just Lesley Ambrose, a dud without even Transitioner talents? It had burned Riley and anyone who’d tried to take it from Jax. He had a bad feeling that only something as strong as a force of nature could hold it.
Griffyn, on the other hand, was coming to the opposite conclusion. He looked Lesley up and down. “This isn’t the Morrigan.” He lunged for her. Lesley shrieked and jumped backward.
Ysabel let go of Jax and stood up. “Griffyn, don’t provoke her.”
“It’s just a girl. An imposter sent to trick us.” Griffyn made another grab for her.
Lesley tried to hit him again, swinging the Sword like it was a wooden prop in a play. He caught her arm and twisted her around until her back was against his chest. His left hand locked on her right wrist, immobilizing the Sword, and his other hand closed around her throat. He looked at Ysabel and laughed. “The Transitioners keep sending us children. These must be the best warriors they have.” He wrenched Lesley’s head back until she was staring up at his face. “What shall I do with you?” he taunted her.
“Griffyn, watch out!” yelled Ysabel.
A crow had launched itself from the lamppost. It stabbed its beak at Griffyn’s face, missing his eye by an inch. He let go of Lesley to shield his face from a second crow—and a third. They swirled around his head, jabbing at him with their beaks and raking him with their claws.
“Jax!” Evangeline cried. She had summoned her fireballs and was moving reluctantly toward Griffyn, compelled by her handmaiden bond to defend him. But her expression said, Stop me! Jax didn’t need a second hint. He leaped to his feet and tackled Evangeline before she could come between Griffyn and the Morrigan.
It was a good thing he did, because Lesley whirled on Griffyn with a cry of rage—an inhuman screech Jax didn’t think his cousin was capable of making. Her clumsy grip on the Sword changed suddenly to something far more competent, and with expert precision, she thrust the blade into Griffyn’s chest. He had time to register the shock of being skewered by a fourteen-year-old girl. Then the Morrigan yanked the Sword out, and Griffyn dropped like a stone.
Jax felt Evangeline shudder in relief as her handmaiden bond dissolved.
Ysabel screamed in grief. It was the first time Jax had seen the girl show any emotion. But when she started to run toward her fallen boyfriend, the Morrigan turned, eyes burning with fury, and Ysabel froze.
Dorian, who didn’t seem to have the strength to stand or move away, stared up at his sister in terror.
This was not Lesley.
The Morrigan’s eyes passed over the group with calculation, as if she was considering using the Sword on the rest of them. When she came to Jax, she held out her free hand.
“The scabbard,” Evangeline whispered. “She wants the scabbard.”
Jax unbuckled the strap across his chest, his fingers fumbling with nervousness. He glanced at Uncle Finn, but it seemed unlikely the Morrigan would allow him to retrieve the magic-suppressing handcuffs. So he approached the Morrigan with only the scabbard—held at arm’s length because he didn’t want to get any closer than necessary. When she took it from him, he said, “Thank you.”
“Do not presume to thank me.” Her voice was as cold and dark as the grave.
Got it. Jax dropped his eyes. Can we have my cousin back? was probably out, too.
With a rush of air, the Morrigan vanished, taking the crows and the Sword with her.
“Lesley,” Dorian whispered hoarsely.
“That wasn’t Lesley,” Jax said, helping him up. “Are you okay?”
He nodded, coughing. “But she’s still in there, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, she saved you, dude.” Jax pounded his cousin on the back.
Dorian looked at Jax miserably. “I wanted to save her.”
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A moment later, five of Sloane’s vassals burst out of three different brownie holes on the street. They dropped poor Gawan with a tranquilizer before he could react. Condor Aeron, left unprotected, roared like a madman, hurling a fire hydrant and a signpost at the newcomers with his destructive talent before three darts took him down.
Madoc threw up his hands in surrender. They shot him anyway. One man targeted Kel, but didn’t shoot, probably because he was holding Brigit. Another one aimed at Evangeline.
“No!” Jax cried, stepping in front of his liege. “Not her!”
“She was fighting with them.”
“Not by choice, and she’s free of them now. But—” Jax looked around. Where was Ysabel?
Evangeline pointed down an alley. “The Arawen girl ran that way, as soon as the Morrigan vanished.” Two of Sloane’s men took off after her, while another bent over Uncle Finn, feeling for a pulse and looking under his eyelids. Dorian splashed over to check on his father for himself, but Jax could see that his uncle was beginning to stir. He’d been knocked unconscious, but he was alive.
“The Morrigan vanished?” repeated Albert Ganner, leader of the Dulac security force. “You mean we missed her? What happened?” He looked at Griffyn’s body lying facedown in the street and nudged it with his foot. The sleeves of Griffyn’s white shirt billowed in the water.
That’s what I saw the Washer Woman rinsing in the river. A shiver ran up Jax’s spine. “He tried to kill Dorian, and Lesley stopped him. Why didn’t you guys show up sooner?”
Evangeline looked down at Griffyn with revulsion. Then, to Jax’s surprise, she rolled his body over and started searching his pockets.
“We jumped here through the tunnels as soon as the Morrigan attacked Finn,” Ganner said, “but it looks like there was a gap in time for us.” He pointed a thumb at the brownie riding on his shoulder. “I’m not convinced these things are as smart as Pendragon says they are.”
Oh, they were smart all right. They knew better than to show up while the Morrigan was in a murderous fury. They had jumped Ganner and his men ahead to a time when she was already gone. Which reminded Jax . . .
No sooner did Jax think of him than Stink dropped onto Jax’s shoulder from nowhere. “Well, thanks for sending in the rescue team. But I told you to go to Addie!”
Stink cocked his head quizzically.
“Take us to her, now!” Evangeline had found what she wanted on Griffyn’s body—the hilt of a dagger and a broken-off blade that went with it—but when she stood up, Albert Ganner took her arm.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said. “Sorry, Jax. Now that I’ve got one Emrys heir out of two, I’m not letting her go back to the Llyr leader—or you, either, for that matter.”
“Stink will do it,” Jax said with more confidence than he felt. “Go get her, Stink. Bring Addie to us.” Stink leaped off his shoulder and vanished, and Jax tried to summon a reassuring smile for Evangeline.
I’ll think about it, Addie had said when Jax asked if she’d follow Stink. He hoped that was just Addie being Addie—that she’d welcome the chance to escape Bran Llyr.
Because he was really worried about what she might be doing right now.
36
THE LAST PLACE ADDIE wanted to be was back on the water tower, but—here she was. There’d been a lurch, and instead of sitting in a bubble of magic, she was standing on what was left of the walkway around the tank.
The brownies had deposited her behind Bran, who was looking over the railing where Addie had fallen. Had he seen her drop into a brownie hole, or did he think she was dead? It didn’t matter. She had maybe two seconds before he turned around and saw her.
Addie concentrated on locating the Stone and the Sword, rapidly drawing in their magic. The Stone of Fal was familiar now, passionate and protective. The Sword of Nuadu was hateful, tasting like fury and hungry for blood. Their combined potential staggered her. I am vengeance, Addie thought. I protect the Kin.
She saved the Spear for last. As soon as she called on its focus and obsession, Bran sensed her presence and whirled around. “Miss me?” she asked.
His face darkened with anger. “That was a clever trick,” he said, “but vermin can’t save you if you cross me again.” Bran held the Spear out in preparation for calling something new and terrible down upon her. “You will submit to my authority!”
She laughed. Submit? With the stolen power of three Treasures, Addie thought she was more than a match for a Kin lord who fancied himself a weather god. She rushed forward and clamped her own hand on the Spear of Lugh.
Bran’s eyes widened. He tried to pull it away from her, but Addie willed the Spear to stay where it was, and it obeyed. “Thanks for torturing me with it so many times,” she said, grinning. “The pain doesn’t bother me anymore.”
Then she yanked it out of his hands.
Five minutes ago, she hadn’t been positive she could do it. But with the magic of the Treasures vibrating inside her, it was impossible to imagine failing. Addie had attuned herself to the Spear through repeated contact. It was confused, no longer sure of its true master. She backed away from the Llyr lord as the new possessor of the Spear of Lugh.
For a second, Bran looked shaken, but he recovered quickly. “You are a presumptuous child, swollen with stolen magic like a blood-filled tick, but still a child. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
Bran held up his hand as if to call lightning down upon her. Addie didn’t know if he meant to kill her or frighten her into submission, but the biting power of the vengeful Sword of Nuadu prompted her to defend herself. She snapped her fingers. It was the same gesture that had caused Bran to mock her for playing with matches. This time, all the coarse, woolen clothing on his body caught fire.
The old man howled. He beat at the flames with one hand. With his other, he summoned rain. But neither act was going to do him any good, because he also staggered backward off the edge of the broken walkway, his face frozen in disbelief as he went over. Addie watched him fall through the fog. No brownie hole opened up to catch him.
Intention. Protection. Vengeance. That’s me.
Power thrummed through her body, demanding her attention. Addie dismissed the Llyr lord from her mind and surveyed the river valley with her enhanced sight. The woven strands of the Eighth Day Spell were more visible than ever, although they didn’t look as unassailable as they had before. Not with the magic of three Treasures inside her. Not with the Spear of Lugh in her hand. The only question was where to start.
Should she unravel the spell—pick it apart thread by thread?
Or punch a hole right through it?
Addie smiled grimly. Let’s face it. I’m not very patient. The Spear was heavy and several inches taller than she was, but she raised it over her head, preparing to tear the hated spell to pieces.
Above the water tank, half a dozen black crows circled against the backdrop of a purple eighth-day sky, then dropped one by one to perch on broken pieces of the wooden railing.
The Morrigan, wearing her Girl of Crows body, had appeared on the platform near the place where Bran had gone over. She’d come to see the Spell dismantled, which wasn’t surprising, considering how she’d overseen almost every step that had brought Addie to this point. What made Addie’s heart lurch, however, were the objects in the Morrigan’s hands—a scabbard with a leather harness and the Sword of Nuadu.
Jax’s Sword.
Whirling around, Addie sought out the individual strands of the Eighth Day Spell and saw that her sister’s anchor was still there. But what about the boy who was supposed to be guarding her? Addie couldn’t pick him out among the strands of hundreds of Transitioners.
Addie turned back to the Morrigan. “Where’s Jax?” she demanded. “How did you get the Sword?” Jax had drawn it and then lost it somehow. What did that mean for Evangeline? “Is my sister in danger?”
“You have the power of three Treasures within you, Adelina Emrys. Just as planned.” Th
e Morrigan’s dark eyes were vacant and hollow in the face of her girl host. “The time has come for you to fulfill your destiny.”
“Not until you answer my questions!” Addie had never handled a spear before, but she knew what to do with the pointy end. She swung the heavy thing down and held it level with her hips, aimed at the Morrigan. The Sword’s desire for vengeance churned inside her. If the Morrigan had hurt her sister or their vassal . . . well, deity or not, she was going to see what Addie’s vengeance looked like!
“You dare to threaten me, presumptuous girl?”
It was chilling to hear the dire warning in that voice while the body and face of the speaker remained blank, like a sleepwalker’s. But Addie refused to be cowed. “The last person to call me that went over the side,” she snapped. “I’m going to ask you again: What happened down there?” The Morrigan had made Addie into a vessel for the power of all the Treasures combined. Now she was going to have to deal with what she’d created!
“The boy completed his task.” Addie thought it had to be a measure of her own importance that the Morrigan actually answered her. “You must complete yours. The power of the Sword will fade now that it is satisfied. Act quickly, before it is too late.”
The Sword was satisfied? Then, as Addie had suspected, Jax hadn’t really invoked it against a nameless parade of enemies. There’d only been one target all along, and based on how the Sword had pulsed in the presence of one particular person—and how hard Jax had fought against its allure—Addie knew who it must have been.
Griffyn Llyr was dead, and Evangeline was free.
Addie grinned, rotating the Spear back to its upright position. “Good riddance to the Llyrs,” she said. “The world is better off.”
“Break the Spell now, and your people will have all the happiness you desire for them,” the Morrigan said. “You will be their savior.”
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