Soul of Thorns (Wicked Fae Book 3)

by Stacey Trombley

  How—how do I know it was Rev? Hell if I know. But I do, deep down.

  “What just happened to Rev?” I bark at the book.

  “The Night Terror retook him. He is not seriously harmed.”

  I take what little comfort in that as I can. Keep moving, I chant to myself. One step at a time. I can still save him. I grip the book in both hands, lifting it from the platform.

  A pounding of magic booms as it breaks free.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “The release of power. Nothing to be concerned about.”

  I swallow, holding the massive tome to my chest. I can’t believe I’m conversing with a book.

  “You’ll want to hurry. The Night Terror is not terribly patient, and she enjoys killing.”

  “It’ll take me an hour to climb down the mountain.”

  “Not if you shadow walk.”

  “But that’ll use up too much of my magic. I’m going to need it, aren’t I?”

  “Unlikely. With me, you will have an extra boost in power. And to be perfectly honest, no matter how much magic you hold, you cannot fight your way out of the Night Terror’s clutches. Your strengths right now are speed, determination, knowledge, and possibly stealth. So, unless you intend to leave your mate behind, it should not be a significant deterrent to use your magic now.”

  “Permission to shadow-walk. Got it.”

  I TAKE MY BOOK FRIEND’S suggestion and begin a very quick descent down the mountain by leaping from one path level to another. This process only takes about fifteen minutes until I find the flat trail heading toward the valley where I know the Night Terror to be.

  I scan the valley but pause when I notice something strange—the massive tree east of the mountain is gone. “Where did that massive tree go?”

  “The Night Terror has relocated closer to the mountain edge. You will find her if you continue on the current path.”

  I frown. That’s not exactly what I asked...

  “Yes, it is.”

  I shake my head, uninterested in arguing with a damn book.

  I sprint east, around the bend at the bottom of the mountain pass, and finally, the claw-like branches of the massive tree come into view. How did a whole damn tree move? Next to it, stands the massive figure of the manticore with his obsidian horns, red eyes.

  “She walked,” the book says matter-of-factly.

  Only a moment later, more figures come into focus. The manticore holds a body, limp and swinging by its ankle. Beside them, two wraiths float with jerky movements.

  I bite the inside of my mouth as I realize the hanging body is Rev.

  But I won’t show them my pain. My terror. My doubt.

  I will fight until my last breath, which I am certain will be moments from now.

  You can’t win, the book had told me. I can’t defeat the Night Terror, but I have some things on my side.

  “Put him down,” I croak, my voice so much weaker than I’d planned on.

  The tree rumbles with laughter. That voice. It sends black waves of panic over my body. I feel his claws digging into my chest. His black magic creeping inside of me.

  The tree is the Night Terror. Her mouth is a gaping hole filled with several rows of slick fangs.

  I press my eyes closed, clenching the book tighter.

  Easy, shadow fae, the book whispers. The Night Terror cannot touch me. And therefore, cannot touch you so long as you hold onto these pages. Keep me on your person, and you are safe from her.

  I bite my lip. That’s why she didn’t want me to take the book.

  So, the Night Terror cannot touch me while I hold the book. But the manticore can.

  My eyes refocus on my most pressing enemy. Kill the manticore, then I can get Rev out of here. If she can’t touch me... it would be a matter of maneuvering the right pieces. First step: kill the manticore. Step two: get Rev in my grasp.

  Step three: flee.

  “That will work, right?” I mutter to the book.

  It is possible, yes.

  I pull in a breath, recentering my focus. Rev’s limp body swings from the manticore’s grip. He doesn’t move. Is he unconscious?

  Save Rev, that’s my goal now.

  I slide my feet wide, muscles clenched and eyes pinned to my target. “Does a backpack still count?” I ask the book.

  That will do just fine, shadow fae.

  I swing my backpack from around my shoulder and quickly stow the book inside. Placing the bag snuggly to my back, I clip the front straps.

  “You’ve come bearing gifts, I see?” The Night Terror’s voice sends chills down my spine.

  You will never be free, my magic whispers. Either she will kill you or I will.

  I curl my lip, exposing my teeth—pathetic compared to hers. But I don’t care. I will kill anyone that comes between me and Rev.

  “Put him down,” I demand, voice clearer now.

  “Very well.” The Night Terror’s horrific lips curl into a smile that chills me to the core. Then, she nods, and the manticore releases him. Rev falls fifteen feet, and his head smacks the stone, followed by his crumpled body.

  I gasp and jerk forward. Please be okay. Please be okay.

  His body lies in a heap, limbs bent awkwardly. He doesn’t stir.

  “Do you desire vengeance, little fly?” the manticore says with that low voice. Eerie.

  “A useless battle, child,” the Night Terror advises. “You are too weak to pick such uneven fights.”

  Useless? Perhaps. But I long for the chance to win one battle, to take something from the Night Terror before she takes from me. To even the playing field just a little bit.

  He is her most important weapon.

  “Even if you win and escape, you cannot both pass through these walls,” the tree rumbles with a powerful voice that shakes me to my core. No matter how much determination I muster, I cannot stop my body from reacting. “One of you will be trapped here with me. Which will it be?”

  I grip my iron dagger in one hand, an obsidian dagger in the other. Rev will leave with the book. I don’t know if they can use it to cure the scourge without me—the book did say I was the only one able to use it. But he’ll have done his job. It won’t be his fault the book failed.

  We’ll have stopped the real evil, and that’s what matters most.

  “And that will leave you in my grasp.”

  “Yes,” I whisper. She’ll torture me. Kill me, if I’m lucky. But Rev will be free, spell book in hand. And even if the Night Bringer steals my soul and takes control of my body, the spell book will be out of my reach. We’ll both be trapped here.

  All will be right—or as right as it could be.

  My plan solidified, I focus on my target.

  I pull my prickly shadows around me, and I leap once, twice, three times, and land on the manticore’s shoulder. He swings at me before I can land my first blow, but I shadow leap to his other shoulder. I am barely larger than his head.

  Calling me a fly was not so much of an exaggeration.

  He roars in annoyance, his hooved foot crushing the soil just feet from Rev’s fallen body. I leap again, landing next to my mate. He stirs, a groan escaping his lips, but he doesn’t open his eyes. I ignore him. For now, I have more important issues to deal with.

  The spell book’s magic rushes forward just as the manticore’s foot flies down at me and Rev. With a boom, my blade connects with his scaled hoof, and it slides into the soft spot in the middle. Not far enough. Not a large enough wound. But the beast reels back with a roar of anger and pain.

  I leap again before he has the chance to regain his balance and carve my blade into the soft spot under his ear. Holding onto the hilt with both hands, I throw my weight into it and slide down his neck. His massive hand flies and smacks my body away as if I really were a fly. Or perhaps a wasp. I intend to sting.

  I land shoulder first on the gravel, sliding onto my back, but the pain doesn’t even register. I hop back up without a moment to catch my breath
, ready to end this. I am numb to pain. Numb to fear.

  He grabs for me, roaring in pain and anger, but he is slow. Black blood now flows freely down his neck to his armored torso. His scaly tail swishes, back and forth.

  I leap several times in rapid session—by his feet, clinging to his upper arm, back to Rev. I fling my iron blade through the air and then leap again. He jerks as I land on his shoulder but bounce back in an instant.

  My blade finds its mark—his left eye—just as I manifest right before his face. I kick the hilt, slamming it as deep as I can manage. The squishing sound and splatter of gook and blood churns my stomach, but the taste of victory distracts me.

  His roar turns to panic as he claws at the blade, carving his own nails into his flesh.

  Panting, my feet find solid ground. The manticore’s dying groans echo through the valley, and finally, he falls face down, body limp.

  I’m not given even a moment to enjoy my victory before five massive roots shoot from the ground and clamp down on Rev’s body.

  I scream. His dark eyes meet mine just before he’s dragged below a cage of tree roots.

  “You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” the Night Terror whispers, her voice riding the acidic wind. Ash begins to fall gently, and my heart falls.

  I beat the manticore. She can’t touch me so long as I have the spell book.

  And it’s still nowhere near enough.

  I turn to face my enemy, my whole body trembling.

  “Hello, my pet.” Tremors quake through my body and I close my eyes. I don’t know if I can do this.

  I could still win. I could walk out of here, and she’ll never be able to touch me. If I could find some ounce of hope in a world without Rev, I could do it.

  You faced a being just like this one once before.

  “And I’ve never gotten over it.”

  But you walked away, alive and with the upper hand.

  I swallow.

  “Well,” the Night Terror draws pleasantly. Seemingly not at all bothered by the loss of her minion. “Now that that business is over and proved fruitless, let us move on, shall we? Now, I have the spell book in my sights. There are many possible bargains to be struck. Who would like to offer first?”

  My soul shudders. I could save Rev by giving the Night Terror what she wants. But I would doom the world to their mercy, and I know better to think we’d be free from their terror. I cannot make that trade.

  I’d be better off letting us both die.

  Seek the right death. I swallow. The right death. I can die so long as my soul remains alight.

  Is there an afterlife? I ask the book.

  Yes, the book whispers.

  “This is the afterlife, you foolish girl. You’ve seen it. Walked through it. This is all there is!” the Night Terror roars. “The afterlife is my dominion.”

  My knees tremble, but I keep my body upright, my shoulders straight. “I wasn’t asking you.”

  Yes, child, the book whispers. There is more. Not all will see it. But there is light on the other side of the darkness.

  “Caelynn has made her choice,” the Night Terror calls out. Darren blinks at me. I’m unsure what the expression means. Is he displeased? Shocked? Had he expected me to condemn the world to save Rev? I would, I think. Under the right circumstance. But I’ve bargained with these beings before, and I will not do it again.

  There is no victory here.

  “The princeling doesn’t seem in the right frame of mind to respond just yet.” One of her many crooked legs nudges Rev’s limp body.

  I wince. His eyes flutter open and find mine again.

  “I forget how fragile living beings can be.”

  I clench my teeth tightly. I swear one of those beady red eyes winks at me.

  “Let us move on to the wraith.”

  Darren flinches. “What?”

  “I can give you exactly what you desire,” she purrs, pressing closer to my ancestor’s spirit. “I will bargain it away to you in exchange for your help gaining what I desire.”

  “What I want is Caelynn free of this place.” His voice is low in annoyance.

  “You desire a powerful ruler of the Shadow Court. I can give you that.”

  He curls his lip, baring sharp black teeth that are a fraction of the size of hers.

  “I can see inside your head, don’t you remember? You’ve admitted so many times that you would do things differently if given the chance. You wouldn’t have sacrificed your court to trap me. Isn’t that right?”

  “The Night Bringer ruling in her place is not the same.”

  “Isn’t it, though?” The Night Terror’s voice rises. Her trunk twists and groans. “I can make you promises. If you help me destroy her soul, my mate will take her body—”

  My hand flies to my mouth. I stumble back, feeling the Night Bringer wriggling inside of me. His acidic black magic crawling, burning.

  No. no. no.

  The Night Bringer is crawling through my veins, his magic slithering, waiting, seeking the right moment to suffocate me from the inside out.

  “My mate will promise to make the Shadow Court what it once was. It will not be destroyed by our domain. And with her body, I will ensure she continues the Shadowspell bloodline. It is a good deal.”

  Darren’s eyes flicker to me, pain and guilt so fucking obvious that black rims my vision immediately. He’s considering it.

  He promised, but we never sealed it with magic.

  I remember my dream. He told me what would happen. He told me the Night Bringer would rule the Shadow Court in my body. And he’s going to let it happen.

  I squeeze my hands into tight fists.

  “You will promise never to harm my lineage and allow them to rule in peace.”

  “We will.”

  “No!” I roar, anger suffocating me.

  Rev stirs, groaning and twisting on the ground. My relief is short-lived.

  “Kill him,” the Night Terror instructs my wraith. “She cares for you. Her anger is already pushing her closer to the edge. If you were to kill her mate—here, now, before her—she’ll fall into our grasp.”

  The Night Bringer’s claws rack at my soul, dark talons carving deeper, sending my mind into a void of darkness. My eyes fill with tears as he pushes harder. I claw at my chest, digging my nails into my skin. I can’t reach him.

  I can’t stop it.

  He’s trying to pull me under.

  “Caelynn,” Rev croaks, so close.

  I fall to my knees beside his prison. His hand reaches out from between the branches holding him. I blink but turn my attention to my betrayer.

  “If he dies by your hand,” the Night Terror continues, eyes pinned to Darren, “I will consider our bargain complete. Act. Now.”

  I stand between my mate and my ancestor, chest heaving, lips trembling.

  For a moment, only a moment, the wraith hesitates. Then, horror warps his expression, and he leaps at me, claws flying, teeth bared.

  Rev screams.

  I barely know what’s happening when in the next instant, I am on my knees, sharp pressure on my back. Agony explodes in my chest, warmth spreading slowly.

  My eyes drift down to my torso where a clawed wraith hand, inky grey smoke wafting and sizzling, has plunged out from my chest.

  “I’m doing this for him,” a voice so much like Rev’s, and yet not at all, whispers in my ear. “It’s what he wanted but was too cowardly to take. He will thank me when it’s all over.”

  My heart sinks, breaking all over again.

  Crimson blood with streaks of black pour from the wound, and I crumple to the harsh ground.

  Death would be a mercy, another voice tells me.

  Rev

  One moment Caelynn is standing over me, facing my would-be attacker with fierce protectiveness. The next, my brother is on her. He carves into her back with clawed fingers.

  Something inside of me shatters as she falls to the ground face first. The warmth in my pocke
t burns like fire but flickers with ice-cold emptiness.

  Through tear-streaked eyes, I watch Reahgan pull his hand from Caelynn’s chest, his smoking hand dripping in blood.

  Caelynn’s wraith friend leaps at him, roaring in rage. “No!” he screams.

  I grip my prison of branches with both hands burning hot with magic I can’t control. White-hot power blasts my cage open, and the Night Terror hisses but then rumbles with laughter. “It’s too late, boy.”

  I scramble to Caelynn’s side and violently flip her limp body over. I can’t feel anything but the panic now. My head and heart pulse together, roaring booms through my mind.

  How had all of this happened? I don’t remember much. The manticore grabbed me, squeezed my neck until I’d passed out. And the next thing I knew, Caelynn was fighting him, her sure movements, sharp eyes, and magic rippling off of her in waves.

  I don’t know how she got here or what kind of deal she may have made for my life.

  What I do know is that her wound is pouring blood, her face is slack, and her eyes are entirely black.

  “Caelynn,” I whisper before yelling, begging. “Caelynn!”

  She can’t be dead. She can’t die now.

  She doesn’t respond. She doesn’t move.

  Behind me the wraiths battle. The manticore’s body lies between us.

  With shaking fingers, I gently brush the fabric of her shirt away from the gushing wound. The skin is greyed, the blood as black as her magic. My magic is low, but my palm flickers, eager to save her. I hesitate, wondering if it’s wise.

  Should I let her go? If I heal her body, will the Night Bringer take her? Will I just be wasting my magic?

  “Kill her,” a pained voice mutters. “She must die. Completely.” Caelynn’s wraith.

  The hair on my arms stands up straight as an iron dagger skids over the rocky ground and bounces off my knee. Steam lifts gently to the sky where the two wraiths had been fighting, and I know at that moment that Reahgan is gone. I can’t bring myself to even care.

  He loved me. And if I ever get the opportunity, I’ll mourn for him. But today, right now, it’s her I care about.

  Through teary eyes, I look up to Caelynn’s wraith. My eyes narrow at the strange expression on his face and the soft glow of golden light emanating from his chest. “I thought you wanted her alive and me dead.”