I grabbed her hand. “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.”
Flynn, however, I wasn’t going to save. He bent down and picked up Liah’s hand, then shrieked as he dropped it again. “It’s a fecking hand!”
“Yes, it’s a fecking hand.” I cursed my stupidity. I’d tried to save Liah, and all I’d done was maim her horribly and left her in the hands of the fae. In the pain of the nightmare, I’d completely forgotten about the wards around the castle. They’d repelled Liah when I tried to pull her in, slicing off her hand when the dream closed around me.
Without her hand, Liah couldn’t draw her bow. If she was even still alive, she was going to curse me so fucking bad.
“Whose hand is it?” Maeve asked, touching my wrists as if to reassure herself I still had both of mine. The touch made my chest ache for no reason. “Blake, what happened?”
My heart sank. I folded my arms. “What happened is that I met someone I could trust and she gave me valuable information and then I accidentally ripped her hand off. But at least I know what your father dearest is planning to do. He’s making a blood sacrifice to the unhallowed ones in order to raise the Slaugh.”
Flynn’s face paled, but Maeve squeezed my wrist. “What is this Slaugh? Corbin mentioned it once but I thought it was a legend.”
“The fairy host. The Slaugh are the resurrected spirits of the recently departed, twisted and corrupted by fae magic. They ride over the countryside on skeletal horses, a black storm of chaos and hatred, devouring everything in their path. The last time the Slaugh rode on earth was the Black Death. And now …” I stared at Liah’s limp hand lying on the carpet, and a shudder ran through my body. “Now they’re coming to us.”
TWENTY-TWO: MAEVE
“Found it.” Corbin laid one of the Briarwood grimoires flat on the desk, holding down the edges with book weights. Unlike the volume Flynn took to the ritual, this one didn’t have an arrow hole through the parchment to marr the horror between the pages.
The particular page we were looking at was entirely filled with an illustration. In the bottom left corner, villagers cowered in terror inside their homes. From the top right, a dark swirl of black cloud, skeletal limbs, and cloaked figures whirling swords, maces, and daggers descended upon them. As they flew down, they razed the village church, the fields of wheat, the tiny houses in their neat little rows. Spirits with haunted faces rose from their graves to join the host, swelling their ranks.
In their wake, they left mounds of dead, disemboweled, dismembered bodies. The once-living, mutilated by their own beloved dead. A date in the bottom corner read 1351. The final year of the Black Death.
“Shite.” Not even Flynn had something smart to say. All eight of us crowded around the table, staring in horror at what might be our future. The only other person to make a sound was Connor, who gurgled happily as he teethed on a silicone ring.
“How do we stop this?” I breathed.
Corbin slumped against the desk. “I don’t know that we can.”
I tore my gaze from the book to look at Corbin. There was something in his eyes I’d never seen before. Defeat. He and Rowan had returned about an hour ago, just in time to see the grisly evidence of Blake’s dream-walk lying on the library floor. Corbin still wouldn’t say where he’d been – and Rowan shook his head sadly when I tried to ask him – but both of them had a hunch in their shoulders and a haunted look in their eyes. Unfortunately, we couldn’t give them the good news they so desperately needed.
“There’s got to be a way.”
“Nothing in this library will tell us how to stop the Slaugh,” Corbin explained. “According to this, they were only contained again because they gorged themselves so fully on the blood and souls of the dead that they became stupefied, and beasts of hell managed to tear them from the earth and drag them into their fiery depths. By then 60% of the Europe’s entire population were dead. We can’t really afford to wait for the ‘beasts of hell’ to sort their shit out.”
That number was so enormous, it had practically no meaning. I tried to ignore all the words that gave me empirical problems, like souls and fiery depths and beasts of hell. I could deal with my skepticism later. “So how do we stop them before they get to the raising the souls of the dead stage? Isn’t that what this coven did twenty-one years ago, stopped the fae before the could begin The Slaugh?”
“There’s not a witch alive who can tell us what happened before, or how they managed to do that,” Corbin said bitterly. “And it’s not written in these books anywhere. We’re on our own.”
This defeated Corbin really got me down. “We’ve got to have something going for us,” I prompted. “We’re a full coven now, with two spirit witches.”
“As long as neither of you gets yourself killed. Thanks to Blake’s dangerous stunt,” Corbin glared in Blake’s direction. “We know Daigh needs the blood of the innocent in order to get this party started. And he can only take unbaptised babies into the fae realm, where presumably this sacrifice will have to take place. At least we know now why he took the babies. As soon as he’s able to, he’ll come back through the gate and take more.” He looked at Jane as though seeing her for the first time. “Did you get Connor baptised yet?”
“It’s in two days’ time,” Jane said, hugging Connor to her chest, her eyes blazing. Corbin frowned.
“The gateway should hold until then,” I said.
“It doesn’t matter. If he doesn’t get Connor, he’ll get others.”
“I’ve already found one other mother with an unbaptised child,” Jane said. “I called her mother-in-law and gave this whole spiel about how I was the daughter’s friend and I was worried about the immortal soul of her child. The mother-in-law bought every stupid word. That child will be baptised before the week is out.”
“If Daigh can move freely on earth, he’ll take children from anywhere. We can’t get to every unbaptised baby on earth. And if what Blake said was right and he’s wielding the power of all the fae, he—”
“Liah can help.” Blake said, scooping up the chicken masala curry with the last bit of naan bread none of us had touched. Accidentally amputating his friend’s hand didn’t seem to have affected his appetite.
“What?” Corbin’s eyes narrowed.
“Liah. She’s a Seelie fae. I met her in the dream. She’s the one who told me what Daigh was planning to do.”
“She’s the one whose hand is currently sitting in a pickling jar in the kitchen,” Flynn piped up. Rowan’s face paled.
“Wait a second.” In a moment, the old, take-charge Corbin was back. He fixed Blake with a stare that would’ve made a less self-assured guy burrow into the floor. “You didn’t see evidence of this yourself? We’re basing our entire plan off something a fae told you? A fae whose name is Liah?”
Blake licked butter chicken sauce off his fingers. “Liah and I are old friends, if one can even have friends in the fae realm. I trust her.”
“That means a lot, coming from you.” Arthur smirked.
“Whether you trust her or not, it’s not enough,” Corbin said.
“She’s leading a rebellion of the Seelie fae.”
“Even if that’s true, and if she’s still alive, we don’t know who might have got to her in there. She might have been compelled to tell you this, in order to lead us off in this direction. We can’t risk what little we know getting back to Daigh.”
“Once again,” Blake lazily flicked a piece of lint off his shoulder. “I’d like to point out that you are not the one making the decisions. Maeve is.”
Damn. I was hoping they’d forgotten about that.
Corbin whirled his head around and fixed me with that intense stare. “Fine. Maeve, what’s your decision?”
Seven pairs of eyes swirled toward me, all showing various emotions, from amusement (Flynn) and trepidation (Rowan), to anger (Corbin) and fascination (Connor).
“Um …” I threw up my hands. This is ridiculous. How am I supposed to make decisions like
this when literally the fate of the entire damn world is relying on me to get it right? “Well, I’m in need of my trusty advisors.” I turned to Corbin. “If we don’t go back to this Liah person, what would you do?”
Corbin sighed. “I’d continue as though we were dealing with the Slaugh and focus our attention on finding a way to block their entrance to our world permanently.”
I nodded. That was really sensible. Of course it was, Corbin thought of it. He really was a good leader. “Okay, I agree. Let’s do that, then.”
“What about Liah?” Blake’s eyes bore into mine. He wore his usual casual expression, spoke in his smirking tone, but something in his eyes told me he might actually have cared about this fae.
“Going back to the fae realm is too risky, Blake. I’m sorry.”
One by one, the guys left, each one meeting my eyes. A hundred unspoken things passed between us. Corbin remained seated at his desk, looking as though he couldn’t force his body to move. Part of me wanted to leave him alone to what were clearly some disturbed thoughts, but the other part of me could see how badly he needed to cast off some of that weight he was carrying around.
I walked to the heavy wooden door and pushed it shut. There was no lock on the door. I guessed libraries weren’t designed for clandestine affairs.
“Corbin.” I leaned against the back of the door and fixed him with what I hoped was a withering gaze. “You look like shit. No, pardon me, you look like shite.”
He looked up at me, and something fierce passed through his dark eyes. Was it anger, or fear, or desire? I was too far away to tell.
Emboldened by his silence, I stepped forward, moving to the front of the desk and placing my hands on the open grimoire. A different volume from the one we’d first shagged on, but it brought all the memories back.
Damn, I’m getting really good at these British sayings. I’m starting to think in terms of shagging and wankers and gobshites.
“Corbin, listen to me. You aren’t sleeping. You’re snapping at people. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
He shook his head. “Please don’t worry about me. I’ve just had a long day, is all. I’m tired and—”
“That’s bollocks and we both know it. Maybe you were on your own before and you had to look after yourself. But you’re not on your own now. Arthur and Rowan and Flynn and I and yes, even Blake … we’re stronger when we work together. You don’t have to carry this burden all on your own.”
“You don’t understand,” he said, his voice flat. Corbin had argued the same point before, with Rowan no doubt.
However, Rowan would give up as soon as Corbin gave him that don’t fuck with me stare. I was not Rowan, and I knew just how to get our fearless protector to talk.
“You’re right,” I folded my arms across the front of my dress. “I don’t understand. But I’m going to. I need more, Corbin. I am your high priestess, and your landlord, as well as your friend. Remember when I first came here and you didn’t tell me everything about who I was and because of that, I ended up in a dangerous situation? You thought that was the right decision, but you were wrong. Do you hear me? You were wrong.”
The words shuddered against Corbin’s body like blows. He deflated in the chair, his eyes dropping to his hands.
I pressed my advantage. “I not having any secrets in my castle. You can start by telling me where you went today. And if you say you were visiting some archaic wizard library, I’ll know you’re lying. You’d never go to a library and not come home with a huge stack of books.”
“I wennoo seema errants,” Corbin mumbled.
“A bit louder. I can’t quite hear you.”
“I went to see my parents!” Corbin yelled, snapping his head up. “I asked them to take their heads out of their bloody arses and help us, but they’re too bloody afraid to do it!”
As soon as the words flew out of his mouth, Corbin’s eyes widened. “Maeve, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”
“It’s fine.” I leaned over the desk, placed my hand on top of his. He stared at my hand as though it were an alien thing. “Can you elaborate a little? Your parents were both in the last Briarwood coven. They both survived, and they lived here in the castle until five years ago, and then it was just you. Does that have something to do with it?”
“My parents were the only witches left after the battle who were still willing or able to use their powers. They stayed here at Briarwood to watch over the gateway and make sure the fae couldn’t try anything again. We all grew up here – my brother and twin sisters – playing in the garden, baking cakes in the big kitchen, creating make-believe spy games with the secret staircase and the other hidden places. I spent every evening curled up in this library, reading books to my brother Keegan.”
“It must’ve been amazing.” To grow up in a house like this, surrounded by siblings and love and books and magic. This could have been my life, my family, my siblings, if Daigh hadn’t taken it all away from me.
Corbin nodded. “My parents were open about our powers, and they taught us all from a young age how to control them. Dad home-schooled us, although I did most of my schooling myself after a few years. He had his hands full with Keegan. My younger brother was … different. They didn’t tell me a lot about what was going on with him, but they took him to see a lot of doctors and psychologists to try and get a diagnosis. I don’t know if they ever got one that satified them. He had these terrifying mood swings – from happy to raging to the depths of despair in a blink. Arthur and Rowan remind me of him, sometimes, in different ways.”
“So what happened five years ago? What changed everything?”
Corbin shook his head. “I will tell you, Maeve. I will. But please, not today. I can’t deal with it today after everything that just happened, that’s still happening. It’s enough to say that there was an accident, and Keegan died.”
Shit.
The blood rushed to my head. Corbin’s words pounded on the inside of my skull. Keegan died. Corbin lost his younger brother here at Briarwood. Both Corbin and Arthur lost people they loved. No wonder they closed ranks around me and remained fervently patient with my moods and my tears and my snap choices. They’d been through it all before, were still going through it, because I couldn’t see how grief could possibly end.
“After he …” Corbin cleared his throat. “My parents couldn’t bear to be at Briarwood any more. They stopped using magic overnight. They forbid me and my sisters from using our magic. They decided that they could no longer be the guardians of Briarwood, so Dad took a job teaching medieval Latin at Oxford University and they bought a tiny house in the Cotswolds and they packed up all our stuff and moved us away. But I didn’t want to give up my magic. I kept remembering your face in the pictures, and that you were somewhere out there without anyone watching over you. I was young and full of grief and anger and testosterone. You might say I turned into a total gobshite.”
“I can’t imagine,” I smiled.
“My parents couldn’t handle me, not with their own grief straining their relationship. They wanted me to go to a public school and start getting serious about preparing for an Oxbridge education, but instead I came back here and started searching for the other children of the Briarwood coven.” Corbin’s sad smile nearly broke my heart. “A psychologist would probably say I was trying to replace my brother with the guys. Who knows? Maybe that’s true. Briarwood was a house of nightmares until Arthur showed up—”
“Corbin.” Fists pummelled the door. “Mate, are you in there?”
Arthur. I knew I had to talk to him, but now was so not the time. Not in the middle of Corbin’s story. Not when I was this close to cracking the mystery of his broken, kind heart.
I glanced back at Corbin, but he was already on his feet. He grabbed my wrist and dragged me across the room. His posture and the tilt of his shoulders changed from the recollection of our shared grief to his usual take-charge, solve-the-problem stride.
“Should we tell him we�
��re in here?” I whispered as Corbin pulled out one of the books and shoved his hand into the gap.
Corbin shook his head. A smile broke out on his face as he grabbed the edge of the bookshelf and tugged. To my surprise, the shelf swung outward, silently rolling across the carpet to reveal a small dark hole beyond.
Oh, cool.
Corbin slid into the tiny space, folding his body around the hole and beckoning for me to join him. It would be a tight squeeze, my body pressed tight against his. Desire flared in my veins. Yes please.
“Come on,” Corbin whispered, raising an eyebrow, his smile widening, lighting the dim space. “The other guys don’t know about this is here. I’ve always wanted to try it.”
Who could resist that smile? It had been far too rare over the last few days. I slid in after him. Corbin pulled the compartment shut just as Arthur shoved the library door open and entered the room.
The Castle of Water and Woe Page 15