Two seconds later, a group of bikers hauls butt into the construction site, peeling out and spitting gravel. The leader stops and pulls off his helmet. Long white hair cascades down around a handsome, angular face.
My heart seizes against my ribs. Agravaine.
Several of the other bikers pull off their helmets. I recognize them as the popular guys in school, the jocks and rich kids. Each one of them looks hollow-eyed and sickly, but they surround Agravaine, looking at him like he’s some kind of god. They hang on his every word, all faestruck. My Fae-sight picks up the inky indigo staining their auras.
Faestruck and Moribund infected!
Euphoria and I exchange a knowing glance. Even though we’ve figured out the trolley/winter solstice connection, it doesn’t really make sense. The restoration project is unearthing the old iron tracks and extending them.
No dark Fae in his right mind would want to mess with iron. So why is Agravaine so interested?
How does this help him create a dark Fae kingdom on Earth?
We sit there in silence, hoping to find out, but Agravaine and his cronies only ride around the construction site, pulling wheelies and jumping over the rails, fiddly-farting around with their bikes and talking smack.
I roll my eyes. Every reason I don’t want to date guys? Yeah, it’s right there on display.
At one point, while the other guys are busy racing, Agravaine gets off his bike and walks over to the pile of new tracks. He shrugs off his motorcycle jacket and flexes his shoulders.
I slap my hand over my mouth to stifle my gasp. The Moribund eats up the entire left side of his body, flesh spliced into black circuitry. Indigo lightning wisps off each individual circuit, making it look like there’s a storm captured in his skin.
He lays a hand on the rails.
The circuits ripple and undulate like a wave, flowing from his fingertips to the rails. They race into the metal, infecting it, turning every inch into glowing black circuitry.
A chill grips my guts. This is so not good.
Euphoria’s white as a ghost, watching Agravaine push more and more power into the rails. His hand shakes, and he grits his fangs. The Moribund rippling up the left side of him darkens, zapping with indigo lightning. He gasps in pain as it twists farther up his side, eating up his skin to his collarbone and then up over it.
He’s becoming even more machine than man.
Euphoria backs up from the edge of the building and waves me away too. In silence, we race back the way we came. We don’t stop until we’re safely at home.
We climb into my bedroom window, and I shut it behind us.
My breath comes in gasps like someone’s squeezing my lungs. I can’t get the image of Agravaine, the Moribund consuming his flesh, out of my mind. “He’s… What’s happening to him?”
Euphoria paces, biting her bottom lip so hard I’m afraid she’ll draw blood. “There are consequences to all Fae power—a price that must be paid—and the Moribund is no different. In fact, it’s worse.” She clenches her right hand, and even through the glove, I see the Moribund glittering. “The more you use it, the more it corrupts you.” Her sapphire-blue eyes meet mine. “Until there’s nothing left of you but a soulless machine. A dark contrivance.”
Her words strike fear into the very heart of me. My legs tremble, and I feel rooted to the spot. But I make myself move. I go to her and take her hands—both of them, even though she tries to pull her Moribund hand from my grasp.
I don’t let her.
I can feel the weirdness of circuitry and flesh beneath my fingers, but I don’t flinch. “That won’t happen to you,” I vow. I see my own fear reflected in her eyes, and I caress the back of her hand. “I won’t let it.”
She swallows hard, and a vulnerable smile cracks her usual super-cool demeanor. “Thank you, princess.” She bows her head. Her dark hair brushes my cheek.
In this moment, I’m hyperaware of everything Rouen—her touch, her sultry scent, the way her body is angled toward mine, her lips parted. Her breath is warm on my cheek, her lips so utterly kissable.
I want… I need…
I can’t. New Syl is still a work in progress. Besides, we can’t afford to get distracted. We’re so close to figuring out Agravaine’s master plan.
With effort, I step back, get my head in the game. “He’s…infecting the tracks. Why? It’s iron, and—ohhhhh…” It hits me like a hammer between the eyes. “Does he have Fae-flaunt?”
Euphoria snaps out of our mutual flirty trance-fest. “I’d know if he did.”
“Then he can’t cast—”
“—a Grimmacle,” we both finish.
“But he’s going to try, isn’t he?” That’s it. I can feel it in my bones. Agravaine’s setting up the trolley tracks as a focus for a Grimmacle. It has to be cast on iron, and the tracks are full of it. I still don’t see how iron tracks + Grimmacle = dark Fae kingdom on Earth, but there’s a more pressing issue… “How is he going to get past the need for Fae-flaunt?”
She shakes her head, pacing. “I don’t know. But one thing is for sure, Syl.” She turns to me, that serious look in her blue eyes. “We have to find out.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rouen
Restless
My soul is restless without you
Restless
I can’t breathe in your world
And you’d suffocate in mine
- Euphoria, “Restless”
Try as we might, we don’t figure out Agravaine’s endgame. After his stunt at the trolley site, he goes around to similar sites and infects them too. It drives me wild watching him, night after night, pushing more poison into the city. He doesn’t have the Fae-flaunt, so casting a Grimmacle is out, unless he finds another fair Fae power source…
Where is he going to get that kind of power?
Syl, my mind whispers unhelpfully.
I vow with every beat of my heart that’s not going to happen. Not on my watch.
But I can’t confront him. He’d only Command me to subdue Syl and hand her over to him.
Our best bet is to wait until the winter solstice when he reveals his endgame, when dark Fae power is at its peak and I have the best chance of resisting the Contract that binds me to his will.
Until then, Syl and I wait, and we watch.
Halloween passes, and November comes. It’s almost Thanksgiving, Syl and I sneak around, tailing him around the city by night and tracking him and Fiann around school by day.
They keep pushing their dark plot—infecting the trolley sites, infecting the student body.
Did I mention I hate standing by and doing nothing? I do, but until we know Agravaine’s endgame—what he plans to do with the trolley tracks and how the infected students figure in—we can’t risk exposure. Syl’s not fully Awakened yet, and as for me…
The Contract of Bone and Blood hangs over me like a sword ready to fall.
Even Georgina agrees that we’re in a holding pattern until we can figure out his endgame and a solid way to stop it.
So we spend our days at school and our nights racing across the city rooftops, training like superheroes. Even though Syl’s powers are growing, even though I’m certain, from my experience with the hearthstone, that she can heal the Moribund with her white flame, it’s too risky. She doesn’t have control, and we can’t risk any mistakes. Once someone is infected, it’s a whole lot harder to Glamoury them.
So until then…we wait, and we spy on him and Fiann.
The Trolley Restoration Project continues on, laying more and more tracks in a circuit around the city. Mayor Tranh announces that it’ll be complete by the winter solstice—what the dark Fae call Midwinter Night—the same night the school is holding the Winter Formal.
And something is happening with the Moribund, something beyond Agravaine infecting the tracks, turning iron and steel into ensorcelled circuitry.
The Moribund in my hand is restless. It burns with a cold-blue light, the same hue as the ley lines, late at night
when I’m trying to sleep. I grit my teeth and keep my hand beneath the covers so Syl and her mom don’t see the blue burn purling off the circuits in my flesh.
The Moribund, the ley lines… How are they connected?
Everything’s coming to a head.
I can feel it in my blood, in my bones. Agravaine’s plan is coming full circle. We have to figure it out. Before everything goes to hell in a hand basket.
And speaking of hell…
In the middle of all this, I have to survive a family Thanksgiving with Syl and her mom.
“Rouen… Rouen!”
Bloody bones, it’s zero-dark-thirty, and someone’s shaking my shoulder. Grumbling, I push back my protective blanket cocoon enough to see Syl’s mom through my slitted eyes. Ugh. Georgina Gentry is not who I want to see first thing in the morning.
It’s like waking up to the boogieman cheerfully eating your Cheerios.
I groan and roll over on the couch, tucking my long legs under me, using the blanket as a shield. “Go ‘way…”
I’m tired. Last night Syl nearly caught me. She’s coming into her own, that girl. She still can’t summon the white flame without almost burning my face off, but it’s no longer so easy to stay ahead of her and you know…make it look easy.
And then there’s our mutual teasing. I tell myself it’s to help her believe in herself, but really, I love flirting with her. Her snarky responses, that raised eyebrow, the fire in those storm-grey eyes. Some nights, I think the heat between us is more dangerous than any white flame sleeper-princess power.
I really need to keep my cool around her. Becoming new Rouen is hard work. And for that, I need me a solid eight hours of sleep.
So I give Georgina the seven-yard dark Fae stare.
“That doesn’t work on me,” she says, looming like a gargoyle.
“No? I’ll try again later.” I pull the covers back over my head.
She’s having none of my cheek. I can just see her standing there, hands on her hips. Her voice rings out with authority. “Rouen Rivoche, you get up off that couch this instant.”
Yup. That gets me up. The combination of Mom voice and my true-name is like a bucket of cold water in my face. Somewhere down the hallway, I hear Syl dragging her butt out of bed.
At least I’m not alone in my misery.
“Ugh…” I give Georgina a baleful look. “I thought today was a holiday for you people.” I mean, seriously, hasn’t she ever heard of sleeping in?
“It is a holiday,” she tells me matter-of-factly, “but holidays take preparation.”
“Of course they do.” A yawn kills the awesome glarefest I’m having with her.
Round one goes to Georgina.
And she knows it. “Get cleaned up, and then the two of you meet me in the kitchen. Go on now. Shoo.”
I shoo, wondering why I’m obeying her when all I want is to snuggle back down on the couch. I’ve never had the kind of mom who’d kick my butt out of bed to spend time with her.
It feels…weirdly good.
But I’m not telling her that. Oh, hells no.
I pad barefoot to the bathroom. Syl and I meet at the door, almost running smack into each other.
“Morning,” she says a bit shyly, her red hair charmingly rumpled. She smooths it down in that self-conscious way that makes my heart ache.
“Good morning,” I say, trying not to notice the form-fitting cami and short-shorts she’s wearing. You’re noticing, Roue. By the Hunt, she’s… Wow. Just wow. I gesture while I try to catch my breath. “You can go first.”
She smiles. “We can brush together if you want.”
My return smile is shy, so unlike me. “Okay.”
She goes into the tiny bathroom, and I squeeze in after her. We’re elbow-to-elbow in the cramped space, trying not to bump each other as we reach for our toothbrushes.
She bumps me and grins. “Sorry,” and I forgive her instantly.
I like her touch, her nearness.
And as much as it feels odd to be brushing my teeth next to a sleeper-princess of the fair Fae, everything about this feels easy and strangely…intimate. We maneuver around each other in the teeny bathroom like it’s natural, brushing and then spitting into the sink.
We grin shyly at each other in the mirror, both of us lingering, and I get a glimpse of how new Syl and new Rouen would fit together.
Perfectly.
“You…” I catch myself blushing. What the hell, Roue? “You can shower first.”
She shakes her head. “You’re the guest.”
“You just want to escape your mom for ten more minutes,” I say, getting my cool back a bit.
She gives a cute little start like I’ve caught her, then chuckles. “You got me.”
“I know all your tricks, princess.”
“Not all my tricks.” The fire is back in those grey eyes, and she leaves me standing there, floored, snickering as she steps out. “Enjoy your shower.”
Uhhhh… My cheeks are burning furnace-hot. She got you good, Roue. Shaking my head, I strip out of my boyshorts and tank top, then turn the hot water on. Steam fills the small space, and I mentally prep myself for a day of holiday cheer.
Joyful and triumphant. Blurrgggggg…
A moment later, Syl’s voice comes muffled through the door. “It’s snowing!”
Snowing… A sense of comfort sinks into me at the thought of soft, fluffy snow covering everything, cocooning the world in blankets of white. Like being protected.
I like winter. The cold, the snow, the biting wind that makes you feel alive and hyperalert. Plus, it’s a time of power for our people.
Agravaine’s out there right now, watching the snow, waiting for Midwinter Night. He’ll make his play then, his attempt to create a dark Fae kingdom on Earth and rule, with everyone his Moribund slaves.
It’ll all go down between us that night, for good or bad, and then we’ll see who wins out. Old Rouen would have dreaded it, but this new Rouen I’m becoming?
She can’t wait to confront Agravaine, to break the Contract of Bone and Blood and stop his villainous plan. Once and for all.
Or die trying.
I shampoo my hair vigorously, washing out all the sweat and grime from running around near the trolley tracks. We’ve checked out ten sites so far, tracking Agravaine’s “infection trail” and training Syl as we go. Ten sites, and all of them infected with the Moribund.
He’s surrounding the city, but what for?
Unused, the Moribund infecting the students and the trolley tracks will run its course. That’s bad news for its living hosts, sure, but even killing off an entire school full of students doesn’t get him any closer to creating his dark Fae paradise on Earth. And he doesn’t have the power to reach out, tap the Moribund circuitry, and blow the fuses on such a big area. The backlash would kill him outright.
He’s waiting. He’s going to make a play for Syl.
I clench my right hand into a fist. Over my dead body.
It just might come to that, Roue. I can feel us racing headlong toward some brutal clashing.
With every passing day, I am more and more restless. The hearthstone weakens. I feel it like a second heartbeat, flagging, failing. It’s dying in the darkness of UnderHollow, and that’s not just me being all emo. It’s for real. And Syl… She’s growing every day, learning her powers, experimenting, Awakening.
But she’s not ready.
Not ready to have the fate of all UnderHollow placed on her shoulders.
She couldn’t stand the strain. It would cripple her. Maybe even kill her.
Stop it. None of that’s even happened yet, and I’m already stressing about it. That’s a new level of emo, Roue. Even for you.
I let out some deep breaths as I rinse out my hair and will all my anxiety to go down the drain with the shampoo.
Focus on what you can control.
High school. The band. Beating the pants off Fiann and her cheerleading cronies. As much as I’ve turned my no
se up at this mean-girl nonsense, I really want to teach her a lesson.
Call it the dark Fae in me.
And the band’s been practicing hard every day. Under my mentoring—Kylo Ren or not—they’ve gotten better. Like exponentially better. After a month of practice and me getting them each in line, showing them what they can do as a team, they’re pulling together.
Our sound is tight and clean, if I do say so myself.
Syl’s on board with the school paper. She and Prudence are going to video us performing and then post it to YouTube. We’ll show everyone the Richmond E band doesn’t back down—not to cheerleaders or jocks, not to anyone.
Everything’s coming to a head.
Agravaine and Fiann. Me and Syl. Old Rouen and new Rouen.
But first I have to survive Thanksgiving.
I finish my shower and get out, dry off, and get dressed.
Syl high-fives me at the door like I’m about to run a gauntlet. “Good luck!”
Yeah, I’ll need it.
I drag my butt to the kitchen, drawn by the smells of coffee, toast, and eggs.
Of course it’s a trap.
Georgina stands in the small kitchen nook, and the sheer amount of food prep laid out—frozen turkey, boxes of stuffing, potatoes and veggies, cans of cranberry sauce, pie fixings… Holy crap. It is a gauntlet.
A cooking gauntlet.
I’m badass. But I’d rather fight a dozen hell-hounds.
I freeze like a deer in the headlights.
Syl’s mom hands me a cup of hazelnut-flavored coffee and a bag of red potatoes. “Start with these.”
I set the coffee down and look at the taters. Unless I’m going to use them as projectile weapons, I’ve got no clue.
She chuckles softly, but it’s in a good-natured mom way. Grabbing a peeler, she starts the first one. “Peel them like this and then cut them up into small pieces.” She slides a pan over from the terrifyingly huge stack she’s got going on there. “Put them in the pan when you’re done.”
I eyeball the potatoes. Me, the princess of the dark Fae and the Winter Court…peeling potatoes?
I cock an eyebrow at her, but she doesn’t back down one bit.
“In this house, if you want to eat Thanksgiving dinner, young lady, you have to help prepare it.”
Moribund Page 21