She had a moment of second-guessing, a moment of her softer side, whispering: please don’t make us do this. And then she sliced into the door and barged in.
Eire had been all ready to plaster a bored look on her face, but the horror show in front of her broke through the calm Fae exterior.
There was no sign of Lochlan Trappe, but he had left a gift.
A woman lay sprawled on the bed, her ass in the air, her sex exposed, but it was the scars that lined her body that left Eire, the cold-hearted Fae, gasping in revulsion. She couldn’t have helped her outcry for anything in the world.
The woman’s dark hair, which was colored blonde on the ends, was long and trailed down her back and around the bed. Such dark hair. Such beauty. Her body was severely abused, though. Blood was everywhere, and Eire saw clearly the scars around the woman’s sex. So many scars. So much pain.
She walked toward the bed, ignoring the gut feeling telling her to run and also ignoring her instinct to cover her own back.
Lochlan Trappe could come around the corner any second, but she just didn’t give a damn…
Because the blood and the scars and the chains and the whips and the blood splattered all over weren’t what called her.
Neither was the smell of pain or tears.
No, these were not what called her.
What called the queen of icy bitchiness to the side of the bed…
What called up that little spark she had of her Fae of Stone…
What called up the tears in Eire’s eyes and the angst and the fear and the thousands of emotions she’d…
Shit. The thousands of emotions she’d fucking…
Hid—
Hid—
Hidden away in the depths of her soul…
The thousands of emotions that now came flooding back ten-fold…
No, what called Eire to that bed was that she recognized the woman in front of her.
She fell to the side of the bed, and her wails were animalistic.
Inhuman.
Torn from her as though she was the one who’d been brutalized.
She heard the phantom laugh of Lochlan Trappe when he’d tortured that young man in the field.
The same laugh he’d had after he’d killed her mother.
And even though he wasn’t in this room…
She felt his presence like a living, breathing thing.
Felt him in this hideout he’d made his own.
Felt him in this cushiony corner of hell he’d built for himself.
Felt him finally succeed at taking a part of her soul…
She was so lost in her grief, she only just heard the pounding of feet…
She knew it was Gimp.
Could sense him there.
Could almost smell him there.
But only barely.
She also caught the scent of wolf and pine and caramel, but she couldn’t deal with her hallucinations right then.
Because all she could smell, taste, touch, feel, hear…
All she was aware of…
All she knew…
Was the pain of seeing her best childhood friend…
The one she’d thought had gone on to live her life, happy and separate from Eire.
All she could comprehend was her best friend, her closest companion, the little girl who’d played Barbies and GI Joes with her…
Her wails increased as she let loose the pain that she felt crawling up her spine, and she couldn’t stop them now…
The movement around her was the only thing that spurred her into action. Her claws unleashed and she let out an animalistic growl the likes of which she’d never heard as she jumped and turned in front of—
“Melina,” Alexia whispered as she moved into the room. “Oh, my god.” Eire heard Alexia’s muffled cry as she moved her face into her mate’s chest. “Oh, my god, Devon. What did he do?” Devon, too, had looked away. His face sallow and sickened, and Eire knew that look. She was sure her own face resembled his, but she couldn’t risk them getting close.
She’d waited out in that bar, put on her patience.
This was her fault.
And it had been her fault before this night.
She’d let him—
Jesus fucking Christ, she’d let him take her Ina.
The naming had faded long ago, but she’d thought Ina was safe.
She hadn’t known.
She’d thought—
Her hands started to shake and everything in her broke…
She fell to the floor on the side of the bed, and her already blurry vision became black as she let her emotion bombard and punish her. She rocked back and forth, whispering, chanting, crying.
She’d done this.
She’d let this happen.
This was all her fault.
“All my fault… All my fault… All my fault… My fault…”
She continued her cries even as she felt herself being lifted from the floor. She felt the cold trickle of blood as it slithered down her arms where she’d dug her nails in. She deserved the pain and the scars.
She deserved worse.
The scent of the person holding her hit her, and she struggled against the embrace, against the nightmare of the caramel and pine scent.
Punishment, her mind whispered darkly, and so she stopped. She should feel the full measure of all her sins. She’d killed her wolfman, her mate, and now, she’d been present at the death of her childhood friend.
“I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…”
She said it over and over again as the voice whispered words of comfort. The comfort was a knife to her chest. She wished it was a knife. She’d done this…
She’d…
She heard the steady beat of a heart coming from the bed, and her head snapped up. Ina…
In a blur, she threw herself out of the arms of her ghost, and onto the bed.
“Get away,” she said, her voice a harsh, garbled whisper of pain, tears, self-loathing, fear, and anger. She didn’t know who she was speaking to, but she couldn’t let them…
She couldn’t let them see her Ina like this.
She saw a pair of black sweats in the corner and went through the rushed motions of putting them on her friend. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alexia remove her shirt, something Eire knew took effort for the woman to do, but Eire nodded at her, slowly putting the shirt on Ina’s upper body. She’d get Ina cleaned later. She’d make sure her father’s scent was never on her friend again.
“We need to get her to a hospital—”
But Gimp’s words were cut off by Damon, Zeke, and Danny’s entrance.
Danny grabbed the doorframe, raw emotion breaking across his human face as his fists clenched in what appeared to be pain and anger.
But Damon. Damon was the worst of all. He fought his cold, but in that moment, Eire saw a rushing cold come from her brother so similar to her own, she knew that the depths of his emotion were too great. His cold was a roar that spoke louder than words. He didn’t run toward the bed, however, even though Eire knew instinctively that was exactly where he wanted to be. No, he moved quicker than she’d thought Damon could move, and raced out of the room.
Zeke, horror etched on his face as he quickly fixed his glasses, nodded Eire’s way, and followed her oldest brother.
She knew where they were going.
She also knew they wouldn’t find the man they were looking for.
Eire surveyed the room, wary, observant, waiting for the next threat. It was Ginny who caught her attention, though. Ginny stood in the corner, silent, huddled, curled in on herself. Eire had no patience or feelings for the woman who’d let this happen in her club.
Pot meet Kettle.
Eire, thy name is hypocrite, she thought. She hadn’t saved Ina either. She’d waited out in that club, patient as could be while he’d—
Fuck, she couldn’t go there yet.
The plan was still on.
Lochlan and Nessa Trappe would still die.
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And so would she.
And Eire’s death would be even more warranted now.
She couldn’t right all her wrongs, but she could help her childhood friend.
She turned back to Ina.
In for a penny, in for a pound as Gimp always said.
“I can… I can…” Eire couldn’t get the words out, but she knew what she had to do.
She reached for the mother’s embrace, for her gift of Stone. The flicker of her gift sparked brighter, and she knew her smile looked maniacal, but she didn’t care.
She could fix this. She reached for that deeper connection, grounding herself in the earth.
Yes, she could fix this. She breathed deep and placed her hands over the woman on the bed, fixing her sheet even though Ina’s exposed and damaged body had already been hidden from view by the clothes she’d put on her.
Yes. Yes. She could do this. She could fix this. She could use her Stone. She could.
Her tears streamed down her face again, and she let those tears fall. She’d accept her Stone and all the pain that came with it this time, for her Ina, for her best childhood friend.
She had to fix this.
She felt goosebumps form along her skin, and grabbed onto the spark, the small rainbow in her core. She saw the lights form around her, and laid her hands more securely against the woman who had once been her friend, but who she’d abandoned.
“Melina Camila Vargas,” Eire said, just to throw a little extra power behind her magic. She didn’t usually use that gift, but her Stone made the naming stronger. And she thought the opposite might be true as well, that the naming would make her gift stronger as well.
Except the lights and the spark died as soon as she spoke Ina’s full name.
“No…” Eire reached deep again, pulling all the reserves she had. “No, Ina,” she cried. “You have to be okay, Ina.” Eire tried over and over again. “No. No. No. No. No. No. No. Please…” she pleaded. She didn’t know with whom.
The ghost in the corner?
The Fae Queen dogging her dreams recently?
Alexia?
“Who?!” she screamed in anguish, letting the word rip from her. “Someone help…” she cried, but their approach was too slow. Too careful. She needed help. She needed them to give a fuck.
Even though she hadn’t.
She’d taken their friend’s life.
She’d done the most destructive thing a person could do.
She’d taken a life.
The ghost moved into view and she grabbed onto him.
“I’m sorry, Nicky,” she cried. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean for this”—she motioned to the room around her—“for any of this…to happen.” She paused and sucked in a breath because his touch felt so real, so whole, so warm, and so much like her wolfman’s touch. She closed her eyes and in a prayer whispered, “Please, Nicky…please don’t take her. Please help me.”
“Vanilla,” the ghost said, as his large, comforting hand barreled into her hair, massaging her scalp and slowly bringing her back to herself. “I’m not taking her anywhere…” He paused and pulled her in tightly and she fell into his embrace. “She’s going to be okay, Eire. She’s going to be okay…and so are you.”
He held her, his strength seeping into her soul, and she was shocked to realize the gasping breaths and hoarse cries were her own. And she honestly didn’t give a fuck.
The figment was holding her, telling her everything was going to be okay, and she needed that to be true. She needed to believe that Ina would live. She needed to believe, selfishly, that she had not caused all this pain.
She heard the steady thrum of Nicky’s heartbeat, and she became even more aware of her surroundings.
She tried to tense, to pull her shield of ice around her, but it wouldn’t come.
She didn’t have it in her anymore.
Ina laying on that bed, exposed and violated, had destroyed every barrier. Every false sheet of ice. And every fabricated creation of her wall had collapsed.
Nicky’s heartbeat, his warmth, his breath and intermittent kisses against the top of her head, his strong hands in her hair, rubbing her back…those moments grounded her. No, she couldn’t wrap the ice around her, but the moment the heartbeat and the touch and the warmth registered that Nicky was really there – flesh and blood – was the moment she realized she didn’t want that wall anymore.
What had her ice brought her? Years of bone-deep cold separated from others. Years spent apart from her best friend, from her brothers, from belonging to a community like Alexia and Devon were building.
She hadn’t saved herself from any pain.
She’d increased it.
She’d brought it on.
She slowly raised her head to look at the man in front of her.
“How?” she asked.
“Vanilla,” he said, smiling when he should have been furious with her, “don’t you know by now? I’m one of a kind.” He winked, but the movement was half-hearted. His gaze kept shifting to the bed. She gave his hand a squeeze and slowly turned around.
She hadn’t really focused on the room before. She’d been all about destroying her father and then all about herself as was usual. But now she focused. She took in the room. She took in the frail form of the woman lying on the bed and she moved slowly toward Ina.
“We need to move her,” Eire said firmly.
“I will take her,” Damon said curtly as he entered the room again, Zeke on his heels.
Eire’s first reaction was to protect Ina, to protect her best friend. She hadn’t protected her tonight. She’d been a party to her pain instead, mainly because she couldn’t deal with her own pain. So she nodded her head yes. She couldn’t heal her friend now, but she’d build up her strength, and until then, Damon would care for her, just as he’d always done for Eire.
She caught his gaze. “Okay, Damon,” she said, confidence in her voice, because she might not have confidence in herself, but Damon was another story. She’d trust her brother with everything she had.
He lifted Ina slowly while Zeke grabbed Ina’s bag with the small amount of belongings she had. Eire watched the progress. Damon tilted his head toward her as he left, but otherwise, his attention was focused solely on the woman in his arms. Zeke, however, did stop at her side. She flinched away from him, but that wasn’t his fault, and she felt his pain to her soul when he shifted his eyes and his forehead creased in worry.
“This isn’t your fault, Eire, and you will help her once you’ve got your strength back, once you have your gift back.”
He went to reach for her, but pulled his hand back. Eire was different now, though. In the span of an hour, she’d changed. Not in blood like she had at the age of twelve. Not in creating the impenetrable cold barrier as she had a few weeks earlier.
No, not in the magical way.
But in the way that all people must change at some point in their life.
Eire had finally grown up.
She reached quickly for Zeke’s hand before he could walk away and she pulled him in for a hug.
“I’m sorry, Zeke,” she said, and her tears started again. She was like a fucking water spigot of salt and pain and apology.
“Awww, Eirey,” Zeke said, giving her chin a chuck and then adjusting his glasses. She smiled at the gesture. It was so Zeke. “I always believed in you, sis. Always.”
“I know, Zeke. I just didn’t—”
Didn’t what? Didn’t believe in herself? Didn’t believe in feeling? Didn’t believe she could handle anything life threw at her, including the emotions she’d always felt so keenly before she’d gone to live with her grandmother?
“I know, Eirey.” Zeke smiled, gave her a kiss on her forehead, and backed away, fixing his glasses once more.
“Take care of Ina, Zeke.” She paused for a moment. “And take care of Damon too.”
“Damon would say he doesn’t need anyone taking care of him.”
“Damon’s a hard-headed as
shole.”
“Now, isn’t that the truth?”
They both laughed and then she watched Zeke’s form exit the room. This room where too much had been done and said already, but she had amends to make and secrets to tell, and she needed to get them out now.
So, she made a decision.
“The Other’s Histories are a bit different than the Clan’s,” she started, her gaze averted from the group. But she needed to be brave, because this particular history would change things for some of them. So she met their eyes, one by one, and her voice dropped an octave as she told the tale…
There were battles long ago. Battles between humans with magical gifts and the humans who had not been blessed as such by the gods. Some of the gods eventually joined these battles on either side, but so did other creations. Ghosts fought alongside the non-magical. But these ghosts of humanity were different. They had loved their families and people so much that they became stronger than other ghosts, what the humans referred to as Shades.
During a horrendous battle between the gifted and the non-gifted humans, millennia ago, everyone but the Shades and a few of the gods were lost. The Shades numbered near the hundreds, and after the humans were destroyed by the gods, Morrigan, a goddess who had sided with and become the leader of the Shades and human army, cried out in pain.
Morrigan, surrounded by thousands of bodies, breathed in roughly, although she did not need breath, trying to bring tears to her eyes. To grieve those she had sworn to protect. To grieve her daughter, the goddess, Titania, who lay at her feet.
But the tears would not come.
She held her breath, though, and found herself consuming the souls and power of all the recently deceased humans and defeated gods around her. Morrigan consumed their essence, drinking down their power until there was nothing left but the ashes of gods and humans. She fell to the ground, still holding her breath from drinking in the souls and magic of those she had once called her people and those who had been destroyed by greed and fear and ignorance.
Finally, she wept, and as her tears fell to the ground, the grass that surrounded her bent away from her feet in reverence. But she felt the souls within her like the burden they were, and as she breathed back out, the souls and magic attached to the Shades who had followed her and also to her daughter, infusing them with new life.
Rage Against the Devil (Wild Beasts Series Book 2) Page 25