by Jane Kindred
“My brother-in-law is Rafael Diamante. Have you heard of him?”
Lucy’s brows drew together in suspicion. “The Lord of the Dead? I don’t believe you.”
“What does Lucy say? Can you tell if she tries to lie to you?”
Lucy frowned. “I can hear what she’s really thinking. She says it’s true. She also says he’s in the Yucatán. So how’s that going to help me?”
“He can be here in just minutes using his nagual—his animal form.” She hoped that was true. God, Phoebe was going to kill Theia if she interrupted her honeymoon. “His power trumps Carter Hamilton’s.”
Someone else spoke behind her. “That’s what you think.”
Theia whirled to see Carter looking overly dramatic in a hooded cloak.
“He’s not really here,” Lucien growled. “He’s a projection.”
“Am I?” Carter smiled. “Try me.”
Lucien stalked toward him and flung the rotting forearm of a draugr in his direction as if he expected it to go through him, but a look of consternation crossed his face when Carter snatched it out of the air.
“You’d be wise not to underestimate me.” Carter tossed the forearm aside and glanced at Lucy with a nod. “Daisy.”
Lucy’s face fell, and she looked up at Theia. “You see? You couldn’t help me at all.” Before Theia could stop her, she’d turned and stepped off the wall, tumbling onto the rock ledge below. Lucien’s roar drowned out Theia’s shout. Lucy was still crouched on the ledge, arms and legs scraped up but otherwise apparently unhurt, staring down at the sheer drop as though trying to psych herself up to jump.
Lucien had charged toward them, but Carter threw him back with some kind of necromantic spell. Whatever magic he’d tapped into this time was definitely stronger than before. It was up to Theia to stop Daisy from finishing what she’d been ordered to do.
While Carter was occupied with Lucien, she climbed over the wall and skidded down the rock face, digging her fingers into a crevice for purchase as she slid toward Lucy. With her fingers firmly in the handhold, she stretched out her other hand.
“Daisy, don’t do it. Just take my hand.”
Lucy turned halfway and glared at her. “You said the Lord of the Dead would come.”
“I can call him right now if you promise to stay put for a moment.” She put her hand in her pocket and took out her phone, selecting Phoebe’s name one-handed. Rafe’s cell phone number was third on the list under Phoebe’s and her landline. Might as well go straight to the source and save time. Phoebe was going to murder her either way. It rang three times, and Theia was afraid it was going to voice mail when Rafe answered.
“Well, hello, Tweedledee. Phoebe says this better be good...” He paused. “And also ‘why the hell is she calling you, Rafe, are you having an affair with my baby sister?’” Rafe laughed. “Just relaying the message. What’s up?”
“I need your particular skills to stop a shade from killing someone.”
Rafe’s voice turned serious. “Of course. How can I help from here?”
Theia hit FaceTime and held out the phone. “Rafe, this is Daisy. Carter’s controlling her, and he wants her to throw Lucy Smok off a cliff. I was hoping you could talk her down.”
Rafe spoke from the video. “Daisy, can you hear me?”
Lucy’s eyes went wide as she straightened. “It’s really him.”
“Listen to me, Daisy. The necromancer who’s bound you has usurped my authority. I know it will be difficult for you to obey, but you must ignore the pull of his magic and do as I tell you. Come away from the edge.”
The struggle was visible on Lucy’s face. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. Come to me.” He held out his hand as if he were actually standing there and she could take it. Maybe as a shade, she could.
Daisy took a halting step forward, looking as though the effort caused her physical pain. Theia inched toward her, pondering how to grab Daisy’s hand and hold the phone at the same time without letting go of the crevice in the rock.
“That’s it,” Rafe encouraged her. “You can resist him.”
Lucy was just a foot away from Theia now. Above them on the walkway, the sounds of conflict between Lucien and Carter were ramping up, rocks shattering and crashing. She let go of her handhold. What mattered right now was keeping Daisy from jumping. She could worry about getting back up once Lucy was safe.
Rafe continued to speak in a calm, authoritative voice. “Come to me. Take Theia’s hand and let her help you.”
As Lucy reached for Theia’s outstretched hand, her face suddenly contorted. “No. No, it doesn’t matter. You can’t help me. He’s taken my body away from me. What’s the difference?”
“Daisy, don’t,” Theia pleaded, but in an instant, Lucy had taken two broad steps back. Theia lunged toward her with a shout as Lucy plummeted from the cliff. The phone tumbled from Theia’s grip as she grabbed for a handhold once more, and it bounced on the rocks and skittered off to follow Lucy.
Chapter 32
Theia nearly skidded off the rock ledge with them, managing to catch herself with a sneaker wedged into a crack. She closed her eyes, in shock, feeling the currents of the brisk spring wind swirling around her in eddies. It was quiet in the chapel courtyard above. Crickets were serenading as though it were an ordinary May night. What had happened to Lucien?
Carter’s treacly voice echoed down to her. “It’s pointless to go against me, Theia. You and your sisters should have learned that by now. My devoted, if somewhat pungent, foot soldiers have defeated all of them. You can come back up here and face me like an adult, or you can follow Lucy. The choice is yours. But know that either way, I own you. You signed an oath of fealty to Smok International and its leadership. And that leadership is now me. The house of Smok is no more. I own it all.”
Which meant Lucien was dead. Despair fell over her like a black cloak. Like darkness must feel if you could touch it. What was the point of resisting? Carter had won.
Theia worked her shoe out of the crack that kept her from sliding farther, resigned to letting gravity finish what it had started. As her feet dangled over the empty air, something stirred it, whipping her hair around her face. Out of the darkness, crimson wings swooped toward her, and a pair of talons grabbed her by the shoulders, carrying her up and over the wall and dropping her onto her feet.
Beside her, Lucy brushed off her suit as she folded her wings over the torn jacket, glaring at Carter, who stood speechless before her. “Wrong again, asshole. You forgot to wish me a happy birthday.”
“So you inherited the curse as well.” Carter’s pale brows drew together in irritation. “But not fully. Not enough to open the gates of hell, as your brother has done. And not enough to cast out my little helper. Daisy, close her mouth.”
Lucy had taken a menacing step toward him, but she stopped and stared blankly as Daisy took over her conscious functions once more. The unexpected shift had apparently only bought Lucy momentary control.
At the perimeter of the courtyard, the reassembled host of draugr hovered as if awaiting Carter’s command. And against the rocks behind Carter lay an object that at first glance appeared to be a large, blue, crumpled tarp. But Theia knew what it was. It was the wyvern from her dreams. It was Lucien. She ran to the dragon and knelt beside it. It was still taking shallow breaths.
“He lives, for the moment,” said Carter. “His transformation was very helpful in unlocking a source of power I’ve been seeking to acquire for some time. ‘When the heir to the infernal throne rises, the gates of hell are opened, and when the heir descends, the gates are closed again for seven generations.’ A little something I learned from Madeleine Marchant.”
Stroking the dragon’s neck, Theia was barely paying attention to him, but the last words sank in, and she raised her head. “You’ve been around since the fifteenth century? I
’d have thought you’d be better at this by now. But I guess practice makes perfect, you fucking psychopath.”
Carter laughed, though his eyes weren’t smiling. “I didn’t learn it from Madeleine directly. I learned it from the elder Rafael Diamante. He was quite the magical history buff.”
“So where are these open gates you’re so fond of? I don’t see anything.”
“It’s not a visible manifestation. At least not for someone of your limited vision. It flows through the heir—H-E-I-R. In essence, he is the gate. I can’t keep it open indefinitely, of course, but the longer it remains open, the greater the power I can absorb.”
The wyvern stirred beneath her hand, its gem-like blue eye opening. Theia scrambled back as it struggled to rise. As dragons went, it was fairly small, but it was still easily twice as large as a man. The wyvern rose onto its jointed wings, using the forward joint like the forelimbs it no longer had to walk on the stone like a bat. The right wing was clearly broken, and it dragged beside the wyvern as the dragon hobbled forward, eyes fixed on Carter as though sizing his throat for its teeth.
“Still trying to win.” Carter shook his head. “You can’t win, Lucien. You lost before you were born—the moment Edgar sold your soul. You should know better than anyone that a soul price will always be paid, no matter how you attempt to avoid it.”
A soul price.
Theia narrowed her eyes at him. “You killed that poor old woman. It was your people who gave Rosa Campos the overdose when Lucien went to take it back.”
“Lucien killed the old woman when he tried to circumvent his own corporate contract. I didn’t feel it was good business.” Carter raised his arm and held up his palm toward the wyvern as if signaling “stop.”
“I’d rather not strike you again. It would most likely hasten your death. The way I see it, I have at least another five or ten minutes of energy transfer from the gates if you just stay put.” The wyvern continued moving toward him, and he shook his head. “Have it your way, then. I’ve gotten plenty.”
As Carter lifted his arm, Theia darted forward and put herself between him and Lucien. “Over my dead body.”
Carter observed her with amusement. “If you insist.”
Theia threw her arms out at her sides as if to block Carter’s attack from the wyvern and closed her eyes, bracing for impact, but as she did so, she seemed to feel her sisters’ hands taking hers and the Lilith bond forming. They’d pooled their strength before, but never without physical contact. Maybe she was just imagining it. Or maybe Carter had been overconfident about the success of his draugr minions.
She closed her fists around the invisible hands, taking strength from them, and willed Carter’s attack to be inert. Theia felt the strike, but a field of energy rushed out of her at the same moment, and the space between the two opposing forces seemed to warp for an instant, rippling like gelatin as her energy absorbed the blow.
She opened her eyes to find Carter’s blazing.
“Stop wasting my time. You’re only going to exhaust yourself, and Lucien is in no condition to take me on. I have endless reserves of energy as long as the gates remain open, and you have the finite potency of demon blood.”
He was trying to wear her down emotionally before he wore her down physically, but it was true. She wasn’t going to be able to hold him off for long, even with the Lilith bond. Maybe if she had a binding spell from Ione, but without her sisters physically here, there was no hope of that.
As she repelled a second attack, the aura of a vision wavered at the perimeter of her sight. Theia clenched her teeth. What good was a vision now? It would only detract from her concentration. Lightning flashed in the distance, and thunder rolled around the edges of the surrounding mountains, circling the butte, echoing from rock to rock. The air began to ripple with the electrified energy of a monsoon storm, though it was too early in the season.
Theia watched the lightning fork beneath the clouds again, horizontal, a bolt of brilliant blue turning the night sky to daylight for an instant. A loud crack split the air directly over their heads, almost deafening her. The strike had been just feet away. She seemed to be floating within herself, unanchored but full of power—the power of the demon goddess.
She shouted something at Carter as he struck out at her once more, a word she didn’t even recognize, old French. Carter jerked backward as if she’d stunned him. Behind her, the dragon was moving once more, taking a running leap into the air. Despite its broken wing, the wyvern barreled into Carter like another flash of lightning and toppled him to the ground. Carter lashed out, not with magic, but with a short blade. He slashed the leathery blue scales and drew blood.
The dragon stumbled, and Theia shouted again, more words she didn’t consciously know, and this time she could see her feet actually floating inches off the ground. Carter made a noise of pain, as if her words were hurting him, but lashed out once again with the desperation of a cornered animal. The dragon was limping as it tried to evade the blade, and it sank into scaly flesh.
Noise and chaos seemed to have risen up around the valley, stones and cactus undulating, as if the ground were fluid. And then Theia heard the unmistakable thunder and whinny of horses and the blast of a hunting horn.
Leo, in a cowboy hat and duster, led the party charging toward them across the sky. “For Freyja!” he shouted—or was it “For Rhea”?—and leaped from his mount with his sword drawn.
Theia was still muttering foreign words, and they trailed out in front of her like pieces of gold rope, forming unfamiliar curly letters she knew instinctively only she could see, and surrounding Carter Hamilton.
The wyvern pinned Carter against the stone with the thick joint of its good wing and roared. Fire blasted from its nostrils and curled around the hand that held the weapon, burning it until Carter shrieked and let the blade fall.
Leo stood over him, sword point at Carter’s throat, and nodded to the wyvern. “I’ve got this, brother.”
Electrical energy was still pulsing through Theia, but the Lilith bond was receding, and she stumbled as her feet touched the ground. She grabbed for Lucy’s arm, and a startled noise escaped Lucy as Daisy’s shade stepped out of her, visible to Theia somehow, looking as shocked as Theia felt. Both Theia and Daisy hit the ground, and Lucy turned as if waking from a trance.
“Theia? Are you all right?” She reached down and touched Theia’s shoulder but recoiled, gripping her arm, as the dissipating energy snaked toward her in a visible static spark. “Shit. I think you’ve been struck by lightning.”
Daisy seemed to look through them both, eyes wide, and Theia turned in the direction of her gaze to see an unusually large crow alight on the top of the wall. As it lowered its wings, the crow became a man—Rafe Diamante, his iridescent blue-green-and-violet-feathered wings half folded at his sides.
“The Lord of the Dead,” Daisy whispered.
Rafe, wearing nothing but a pair of rather thin white linen pants, stepped down from the wall and came toward them, eyes taking in the entire chaotic scene.
He reached a hand down to Daisy and touched her lightly on the head in an almost fatherly gesture. “You’re free, Daisy. Go where you will.”
The shade, tears pouring down her cheeks, nodded and dissipated.
“Theia.” Rafe sank onto his haunches. “Thank God. I thought you’d gone over the edge with...” He paused and looked at Lucy. “I thought you’d both—oh, I see.” He nodded with approval. “Nice wings.”
Lucy smirked. “Same to you.” She glanced at Theia. “Theia’s a bit...electrified. I think lightning struck her. I’ll leave her in your hands. I need to see to Lucien.”
“I’m fine,” Theia insisted as Rafe looked her over with concern. “Although I could see Daisy. I thought for a minute I might have crossed over without realizing it.”
“You saw her shade?”
Her head was start
ing to throb. “I think I was channeling my sisters. Maybe it was Phoebe’s gift.”
“Phoebe can’t see them.”
Theia shrugged. “I don’t know. But really, I’m okay. Stop fussing.” Around them, the draugr minions still hulked on the perimeter. “Maybe you can do something with them, though.”
Rafe stood and nodded. “We had some in Cancún as well. I sent them packing.”
“I think he sent them to Rhea and Ione, too,” she said as Rafe helped her up.
“They seem to have lost their power.” Rafe threw a smug look toward where Carter still cowered under the point of Leo’s blade. He threw his arms out wide and stretched his wings. “Return to your graves, unnatural muertos. Your master is defeated.”
The nasty things recoiled and shuffled backward, whining, and disappeared into the dirt as if they’d sunk into the ground.
In the corner, by the chapel doors, Lucy was engaged in an earnest discussion with the wyvern. As Theia approached them, Lucy turned and shook her head in warning.
The wyvern’s blue eyes met Theia’s for a moment, heavy with sorrow, before it turned and limped toward Carter. Leo stepped back as the wyvern grabbed hold of Carter by its foreclaws. It leaped into the air, taking Carter with it, and flew away.
Lucy blinked back tears. “The gates couldn’t stay open any longer. I’m sorry. He can’t survive in this realm. He had to go.”
Madeleine’s loophole no longer mattered. Lucien was gone.
Chapter 33
Theia rode back to Phoebe’s place with Rafe—who had expended too much energy in translocation to return to Phoebe the same way—letting him take the wheel. In her lap were the torn garments Lucien had cast off with his transformation, including the stupid red cap.
After a few minutes of respectful silence, Rafe glanced over at her. “Those Lucien’s?”
Theia nodded. “I suppose you think I’m an idiot for falling for him anyway after your warning. After reading your father’s archives.”