Dark and Stormy_Phantom Queen_A Temple Verse Series

by Shayne Silvers

  Like who had my mother been, really?

  The Huntress snarled in frustration, but knew better than to argue. “Can you make two Gateways?” she asked Cassandra. “One now, and another in fifteen minutes time?”

  “Absolutely,” Cassandra said.

  “You’ll have to drop me off outside,” I said.

  “Why?” the Huntress asked, eyes narrowed.

  “Because I recently put wards around me aunt’s place,” I replied. “It was a two-for-one deal.” In actuality, I’d requested the wards around Dez’s place get put up first; I could handle myself, but the thought of anything happening to her was more than I could bear—even if she had lied to me all these years.

  “Well then I won’t be able to join you two on the first leg of the trip,” Cassandra admitted. “I tend to draw a fair amount of attention, whenever I go out among Regulars.”

  “That’s alright, we won’t be long. Are you sure she’s at home?” the Huntress asked.

  “No, but if she isn’t, we’ll have just have to find her,” I replied, matter-of-factly.

  “When this is all said and done,” the Huntress growled, “remind me to beat you senseless.”

  I snorted. “Hasn’t anyone told ye? I’m the daughter of a goddess.” Not surprisingly, saying it out loud like that brought a strange flutter to my stomach. I masked it well, though. “I don’t fight below me weight class.”

  “You wouldn’t be,” the Huntress retorted, then blatantly ignored me.

  Which was good, because I needed a moment to pick my jaw up off the floor.

  Huntress was…a goddess? What the hell? Was this real life?

  Cassandra, meanwhile, had prepared a Gateway, pretending to be oblivious to our bickering, though I could tell even she was a little startled by the exchange, especially considering for a moment there it looked like she might drop her head—though whether it was my admission or the Huntress’ which had caught her by surprise, I wasn’t sure. The rift opened up into a tiny alleyway between two buildings. The sound of rain and sirens greeted us, ominously.

  “Let’s move,” the Huntress said, ducking through the Gateway, fully confident I’d follow.

  I did, hardly making it through before I felt someone slap my ass from behind.

  “Go team!” Cassandra said, as the Gateway shut.

  I sighed and turned back, determined to quickly save my aunt, claim sanctuary in St. Louis, and plot the downfall of one old, evil bastard with an axe to grind.

  As if it were going to be that easy.

  Chapter 30

  The Huntress was waiting for me at the end of the alley, a grim expression on her face.

  “What is it?” I asked, sprinting through the rain in my bare feet, trying my best to avoid the bigger puddles.

  “Which house is hers?” she asked.

  I frowned, then shoved past the Faeling. “Hers is the one in…the…” I drifted off, staring out at the row of townhouses that lined Dez’s block, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Black smog clogged the air, barely affected by the falling rain—the clouds reflecting the strobe of the fire engine’s lights and the flames that smoldered from the second townhouse on the right. Dez’s house. My house.

  I took off, dodging the Huntress’ attempt to grab me, bolting straight for the gathered crowd of onlookers—many of whom were neighbors I knew personally. I shoved past them, ignoring their shouts of surprise and recognition. My only goal was to get closer. Dez would be at the front of the crowd, watching the house burn with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. That’s what they did with the survivors, after all. I scanned the area immediately in front of me as I waded through the mob, searching desperately for that tell-tale blue blanket.

  I knocked down a few people when they didn’t move fast enough for my liking, the whole affair like one of those hazy dreams where nothing makes sense, and you can’t think clearly.

  I finally made it to the front, breaking through like a diver surfacing for air.

  But Dez wasn’t there.

  Instead, a firefighter stopped me, his bright yellow uniform stealing my attention for a full ten seconds before I remembered what I was doing. “Dez!” I shouted, staring past the fireman. “Dez, where are ye?”

  “Ma’am, you have to step back,” the firefighter urged.

  “No, I need to find me aunt, that’s her house,” I insisted, pulling desperately at his jacket.

  He paused to look me up and down. “Jesus H. Christ, lady, are you okay?”

  I glanced down, realizing I hadn’t changed since returning from Fae. I looked like someone out of a horror novel, covered in cuts and scrapes, my feet bare, my once-white Symposium of the Seas tee shredded to pieces, and my pants torn up like something out of an Abercrombie catalog, revealing far more than I would normally be comfortable with.

  I slowly shook my head. That didn’t matter. None of that mattered. “D’ye find a woman in there?” I asked, yanking the man towards me, so savagely I completely tore off the sleeve of his jacket. “Where is she, the woman ye saved?”

  His eyes were about as wide as they could get, staring at the impossible feat of me tearing off the sleeve of such a sturdy coat—one designed for about the most intense abuse one could imagine.

  A blazing inferno.

  And I’d done it with my bare hands, without any apparent effort.

  “Joe, we’ve got something in here!” I heard another firefighter call out.

  I released the sleeve and watched it flutter to the ground. “No…no…no, no, no…” I backed away, mumbling.

  “Ma’am, it’s alright,” the firefighter said, placatingly, though he sounded a bit in shock himself. “Let’s get you over to the ambulance, alright?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got her,” the Huntress said, appearing at my side as if by magic, sliding one arm around my waist as if to guide me away.

  I glanced past the firefighter’s shoulder and saw two of his fellows step away from the wreckage, shaking their heads mournfully.

  Something inside me…

  Fucking snapped.

  With a hoarse roar, I flung the Huntress away from me, watching in mild fascination as she soared over the crowd, colliding against the side of the ambulance with a loud crash and collapsing onto all fours on the pavement. I felt a twinge of guilt for that, but it was quickly swept up in a far larger whirlpool of emotions. I swung back towards the house and held out my hand, stepping forward, one thought repeating over and over again like a mantra in my brain.

  I wasn’t going to let this happen.

  The firefighter tried to stop me, purely on reflex, but I sent him flying, too. No guilt this time, just determination. A familiar sensation began to register—the ache of my hot bracelet against the skin of my wrist.

  I took another step, and time began to slow.

  Firefighters, seeing what I’d done to one of their own, spun in slow motion, prepared to stop me by any means necessary.

  Another step.

  The bracelet began to shudder violently, and the firemen began rotating backwards, like those pieces on the old-school hockey board games you could spin in either direction.

  Then, the rain began rocketing upwards.

  The smoldering flames became brighter, at first, as the wreckage took shape. Beams flew back into place, the blackened wood brightening until the skeletal bones of the townhouse were visible. Scorched brick levitated, forming one facing wall. The door, a charred mess, sprung back into place. The bracelet, no longer able to handle the strain, fell from my wrist to splash onto the pavement in a chrome puddle, searing the concrete with a hiss of acrid smoke.

  But I didn’t need it anymore.

  I could feel it now—my mother’s magic, surging through me.

  Time continued to wind in the opposite direction as I inched closer. The firetruck pulled away in reverse, followed by the ambulance—no longer dented—full of first responders. The flames shrunk, isolated to one room—the kitchen. If I could just
go back a little further, I could find the source of the fire before it happened. Save the house. Pretend like none of this had ever happened.

  But then, with an abruptness that left me gasping for air on all fours, the magic ran dry.

  I felt like I’d been hollowed out, my insides removed. But still, I shuffled forward, staring with bleary-eyes at the flickering light from the kitchen window. Could I put it out? Maybe. I struggled to my feet, as tired as I’d ever been in my entire life. So tired I could cry.

  Too bad I didn’t have time for that shit.

  I edged forward, picking up the pace once I got my feet under me, my adrenaline pumping hard enough to sustain me for a little longer. I hoped. Once through the door, I immediately began calling out Dez’s name. The fire could wait; I needed to save Dez first. “Dez! It’s me, Dez! There’s a fire!”

  A thump from upstairs shook the ceiling. I hurried to the flight of stairs, leaning hard on the bannister as I forced myself forward. Someone was up there. Dez, I was sure of it. I just had to find her. It wouldn’t matter then how exhausted I felt, I would drag her out of here. I made it to the top of the stairs and slid along the wall towards her bedroom. But there was no one there. I groaned, exhausted, then retraced my steps. The guest room, I decided. She was probably working on one of her projects in the guest room—my old room, now converted into a workshop. “Dez!” I yelled once more as I shambled towards the end of the hall. “If ye can hear me, say somethin’!”

  I fumbled with the doorknob, but found it locked. I snarled in frustration; I’d insisted on putting a lock on the inside as a teenager, against Dez’s wishes. But it being locked now made no sense. Dez never would have locked the door, whether she was inside or not. Hell, she often forgot to lock the door to the damned house. “Dez! Dez, ye need to let me in!” I yelled, banging on the door with what little strength I had left. But there was no response. I stared down at the doorknob, willing it to unlock. To turn beneath my hand.

  And then, shockingly, it did precisely that.

  I almost fell as the door opened, leaning on it as hard as I had been. I steadied myself in what felt like a drunken stumble, glancing around to get my bearings, and was immediately overwhelmed with déjà vu. Posters, my posters, lined my purple walls. Beside the door stood my old dresser, the stereo system on it eerily reminiscent of the one I’d had as a teenager.

  Holy shit, had I turned back time that far?

  “I could have sworn I locked that door,” a voice said, so deep and masculine it barely registered beneath the sound of the fire crackling away downstairs; the flames must have begun spreading, already. I whirled towards the sound—but of course the speaker was invisible.

  “Dobby, what are ye doin’ here?” I hissed, dumbfounded. What was he doing here? And what did he mean, he could have sworn he’d locked the door?

  That didn’t make any sense.

  Dobby was my friend—why hadn’t he let me in?

  The spriggan—invisible thanks to a magic ring I’d inadvertently given him months ago—chuckled. I used the sound of it to track him toward the corner of the room, behind my old bed. And that’s when I finally saw her. Dez, slumped against the bedframe. She was bleeding.

  I stumbled towards her, fell, and finally crawled to her side. The window opened, and the sound of Dobby’s horrible laughter faded as I heard him scrambling away. But it was a distant thought. I was too busy staring down at Dez to go after him. I snatched the covers off my bed and pressed them to the wound on her stomach, hoping to get the bleeding under control. Outside. I needed to drag her outside. The paramedics had been the first ones on the scene; they’d be here soon. They could help her.

  “Quinn, is that ye?” Dez asked, her voice feeble.

  “Aye, it’s me,” I replied, so glad to hear her voice I nearly broke down. “Don’t worry, I’m goin’ to get ye out of here.” I started to try and lift her, but she was so heavy I had to stop. I needed a better angle. Leverage, I needed leverage.

  Dez snatched my arm, drawing me back beside her, pain written all over her face. She took a deep breath. “Ye know…I always loved ye,” she whispered in a weak sob.

  I felt tears start to prick the corner of my eyes. I shook them off, searching the room for something I could use to get her up. “No, don’t ye do that,” I said, distractedly. “You’re not sayin’ your goodbyes, Goddammit.”

  She swatted my arm, weakly. “None of that, now. Ye swear too much, young lady.”

  I gritted my teeth, suddenly unable to speak past the lump in my throat. This wasn’t happening, I decided.

  I’d fix this.

  I just needed to rewind time a little further. Get Dez out of the house. Find Dobby and crucify him before he could so much as lay a finger on her. I could do it.

  I could.

  I was…

  A goddamned…

  Goddess!

  I could do anything.

  And so I fucking tried.

  I tried so fucking hard. But nothing happened.

  Because…my bracelet was gone. I stared down at my scarred wrist, blinking rapidly, not knowing what to do, or how to use my powers.

  I called out desperately to my wild side, urging it to take over and burn the world to cinders if it gave me the power to save Dez.

  I promised her she could have anything. Anyone.

  If it saved Dez, the entire city could fucking burn.

  Hell, I would toss the first match…so long as Dez was holding my other hand.

  But the demented whispers were gone.

  “She said it would end this way, ye know,” Dez said, staring out the open window. I blinked rapidly, snapped out of my impotent attempts to save her.

  I sensed smoke drifting up the stairs, visible from the open doorway. “Your ma, I mean.”

  I gasped, too startled to say anything.

  “She was always predictin’ t’ings. The weather…which of our friends were goin’ to end up together. T’ings like that. I could tell she knew more than she told us, though. She used to get sick at the oddest times, pulling the two of us out of missions at the last minute.” Dez coughed, and a thin line of blood dribbled from her mouth. “Missions where t’ings went south,” she said, oblivious to the red fluid on her chin.

  Missions? Was she talking about her time with the Irish Republican Army? But why? She never talked about those days.

  I reached out, dabbed the blood away with a corner of the blanket, and stared at it. For some reason, I couldn’t stop staring at the blotchy stain, even as Dez continued speaking. “I never asked her about it. We were best friends, but there was a part of her I never knew. I was jealous when she ran off with your father, and even more so when she wouldn’t tell me who he was. We fought. I said t’ings I shouldn’t have, hurtful t’ings. And that’s when she told me.”

  “Told ye what?” I whispered, letting the blanket fall.

  “How I’d die,” Dez said, her smile sad and thoughtful. “She said I’d never even see what did it, but that I’d end up in me daughter’s arms. I used to t’ink I’d live forever, t’anks to that. Can’t die in me daughter’s arms if I never had a daughter, right?” She grunted, then coughed again, her face racked with pain. “But here we are, aren’t we, me girl?” Dez said. She raised her arm, sliding it free from the blanket, and rested her hand against the side of my face.

  This didn’t make any sense.

  I cupped her hand with mine, pinning it to my cheek. “Ye can’t leave me,” I moaned, shaking my head. “I don’t care what she told ye, this isn’t your time, ye hear me? She was wrong. She just said that to hurt ye…” I drifted off. “She was wrong,” I whispered, tears splashing down my cheeks now.

  “D’ye like what I did with the place?” Dez asked, her voice thready, eyes locked on the walls as she settled her head back against the bedframe, although it almost seemed as if she were looking at something far off in the distance. “I thought, if it reminded ye of home, you’d come visit more often…” A ghost
of a smile played along her lips.

  And, with that…she was gone.

  Chapter 31

  They found me cradling Dez’s body, the smoke in the room so thick I couldn’t see anything above my head except the dwindling light from the open window. I’d wrapped her up in the blanket, so she wouldn’t get cold, closed her eyes, and slid a pillow beneath her head.

  The pillow was charred on one side, so I adjusted it.

  Didn’t want her hair getting dirty. Couldn’t have that.

  Dez hated getting her hair dirty.

  “There ye are. You’ll die if ye stay here,” Badb—covered in so much black leather she looked like she’d bathed in the ashes of the burning townhouse—said, her raspy voice interrupting my thoughts, sounding relieved to finally find me. As if they’d been searching a while.

  I grunted. Of course I would. What kind of stupid fucking observation was that?

  “That won’t bring her back,” Macha chimed in, looking immaculate in her pretty blue dress despite the smoke.

  An idea struck me. I whirled around, my eyes—between the smoke and the tears—bloodshot and puffy. But I used them to plead all the same, giving them the same doe-eyes I’d used on Dez so many times when I was a little girl, to get what I wanted. “Can ye do it?” I asked, desperately. “Can ye turn back time and save her?”

  The sisters frowned.

  “That power was taken from the Tuatha, long ago,” Macha said.

  “Not even an immortal should hold dominion over time,” Badb added. “It’s too temptin’ by far.”

  I hung my head. Even if I told them I had temporarily had that power, I knew nothing would change. If they didn’t know how to access the power any more than I did, they had nothing to offer me. “Go away,” I said, finally.

  “Balor is comin’ for ye,” Macha said.

  I shrugged. I’d be dead long before that happened; the fire would take care of that. The one-eyed bastard could do what he wanted with what remained—I’d have no stake in the game, at that point.