My right hand—working again—stretched itself forward. As the Night Hag cowered, energy streamed through my pointing finger. I didn’t know the intention of the power that worked through me. I simply watched.
The limbs of Mallt-y-Nos contorted. She howled as her arms lengthened and her legs thinned. Her neck grew shorter and thicker. Her ears swiveled to the top of her head, becoming black triangles. Her chin and nose merged and stretched into a muzzle.
Energy blasted out, so intense I had to shield my eyes. When I could look again, I could see what the Night Hag had become.
A hellhound.
Her howling turned to baying, then shortened to a yelp as I, or the power working through me, jolted powerful energy into her. “Run, hound!” my voice ordered. The new hellhound took off and disappeared into the night.
“Run to hell,” I muttered, watching it go.
A sound, a throat clearing, caught my attention. Mab still knelt in front of me, her hands crossed on her chest. Again, I wanted to tell her to stop it, to get up and be Aunt Mab again. But that other voice pushed its way past mine.
“What is it?”
“Lady,” Mab said, her eyes on the ground. “There is one who requires your assistance. My niece would ask it of you.” Still keeping her head down, she gestured across the field.
Toward Kane.
Yes! The thought swelled in my mind. If this entity that had taken over my body—it was Ceridwen, it had to be—could help Kane, she needed to get on it now. I tried to direct my (our?) feet toward where he lay on the field, but they didn’t budge. Slowly, seemingly of its own accord, my head turned the way Mab had pointed.
Help Kane! I thought. I let you in. You owe me.
“We need to have a talk, I think, about who owes whom.” Yet as her words issued from my own mouth, my feet started to work. I (we?) walked across the field.
Kane lay as I’d left him. My heart clenched to see him there, curled tight against the final agony of his burning, his skin seared and scorched. It was too late. Goddess or not, there was nothing Ceridwen could do for him. Nothing anyone could do.
My heart was a hollow ball of pain, but the tears that pressed my eyes wouldn’t flow. She wouldn’t let them.
“You underestimate our power,” my own voice scolded. “But you shall see.”
Power rose through me and sizzled in my fingertips. My knees bent themselves until I knelt beside Kane. Moving of their own accord, my hands touched two places on his body: between his eyes and over his heart. Unfamiliar words of some unknown language issued from my lips. Energy rose from the earth, flowed from the sky. It passed through me and poured into him.
Beneath my hand, Kane twitched.
I added my will to Ceridwen’s, calling energy and directing it to him. But I infused that energy with love. I visualized it swirling through my heart and absorbing everything I felt for Kane, everything I wanted for him. For us.
Come back to me.
His eyelids fluttered.
My body jerked to its feet, and my legs sprinted down the field. An energy blast like I’d never seen flashed through the stadium. It knocked me face forward onto the grass. My ears rang from the boom! Fighting Ceridwen’s will to stay down, I struggled to my knees and turned to look at Kane.
Fizzling energy lit a circle of scorched earth twenty feet in diameter. In its center stood a wolf.
Not a hellhound, a wolf. His silver fur glowed in the moonlight.
Is he . . . ? I wanted to ask the question out loud, but my voice wasn’t my own.
“He’s no longer a hellhound,” came Ceridwen’s answer in my voice. “Nor shall he be one again.”
Ceridwen relaxed her grip on my body, allowing me to stand. I held out my hand. My left one, the one not marked by a demon or coated with glitter. The wolf trotted over to me and sniffed. The gray eyes that searched me were Kane’s. He sat, remaining perfectly still as I dropped again to my knees. I threw my arms around him and buried my face in his ruff. His heart beat free and strong. I could smell his scent of pine woods and cool air.
Thank you, goddess.
I don’t know why—maybe she was moved enough to let us have our moment—but Ceridwen answered in my mind instead of through my mouth. I restored his life, she said. But breaking the curse, that was your doing. Out of love for you, he bargained away his freedom. Your love has returned it to him.
And then Ceridwen receded. She relinquished control of my body and shrank into a tiny spark that settled somewhere in the back of my brain. I felt almost myself again. Enough that I pushed Ceridwen aside to worry about later and turned all my attention to holding Kane.
And that’s exactly what I did. Right up until the moment when the stadium floodlights blazed on and the police told us we were surrounded.
AT LEAST THEY DIDN’T COME IN FIRING. THAT HAD TO BE A good sign, right?
“Help me!” I whispered to Ceridwen. No response. I could feel that spark of her presence, but it was muted, silent. Great time to take a nap. Maybe she didn’t care if the shapeshifter she’d chosen to inhabit got her ass hauled off to that underground paranormal prison.
Figures in body armor kept rifles trained on us as, step by step, they approached. Kane growled. “Shh,” I said, stroking his fur. An attacking werewolf would be shot full of silver bullets, no matter who he was the other twenty-eight days of the month. Kane’s muscles trembled as though longing to spring, but he stayed seated beside me.
Until a dart thwacked into his side. Kane jumped to his feet, but his legs buckled under him. He toppled forward, his muzzle hitting the dirt first, as the tranquilizer took full effect.
Per bullhorned instructions, I lay on my front with my hands on the back of my head. I expected frisking, handcuffing, the works. But it didn’t happen. Minutes passed. I didn’t move. Finally, a voice—Daniel’s—told me I could get up. He even reached down a hand to help.
A quick glance around the field showed me the situation. Two dozen cops had herded the zombies into a group. An ambulance crew tended Mab. And Kane . . . Kane slept inside a werewolf cage with silver-plated bars.
Shit. Leaving the retreat during a full moon could be a death sentence for a werewolf.
“Kane didn’t leave Princeton of his own will,” I said. “He was forced.” As quickly as I could, I explained about the Night Hag.
Daniel looked skeptical. “So far, there have been no reports of werewolf attacks in the city tonight. As long as it stays that way, I’ll make sure he’s returned to the retreat.”
“Thanks.”
He shrugged. “I’m in homicide. It’s not my job to police werewolves. Not unless one of them kills somebody.”
Which made yesterday’s events come crashing back. As in me, armed and dangerous and wanted for murder.
“Um, not that I’m suggesting it or anything, but how come I’m not under arrest?”
Daniel’s expression darkened. “Why didn’t you call me? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you since yesterday afternoon.”
“Why didn’t I? Does ‘armed and dangerous’ ring a bell?”
“That was Commissioner Hampson’s doing,” Daniel’s new partner, Ramón, said as he approached from the left. “We knew you tried to protect the SWAT team, but Hampson . . .” He lifted his hands in a what-can-you-say gesture.
“You knew I tried to protect them?” If so, that was a hell of a lot more than I knew. Not that I was about to volunteer that piece of information. “How?”
“Video,” Daniel replied. “Each team member had a camera in their helmet. That’s standard procedure now. It took a while, but we pieced together what happened from going through the videos. Of course, we need your version of events as well, given that you’re an eyewitness.”
That might be tricky, since the whole fight was still a black hole in my memory. I didn’t know how to tell him that.
“We have video of you entering the room,” Ramón continued, “and attacking that Old One.” He grinned. “Nice hit,
by the way. Sliced that ugly head right off. You must have been as surprised as we were when the Old One picked up his head and reattached it.”
Surprised wasn’t the word for it. But I didn’t like the implication: The Old Ones were getting closer to their goal of true immortality—and therefore harder than ever to kill.
“After that,” Daniel continued, “you disappear from the videos. All of them. Did you go for help? Why didn’t you call me?”
“I was . . .” How do you explain Limbo to a couple of norms?
“We can take your statement later,” Ramón said. “The important thing is that we have irrefutable evidence of what happened to each and every team member. You’re in the clear.”
In the clear. What beautiful words. Kaysi would feel vindicated.
AFTER PROMISING TO MEET WITH DANIEL AND RAMÓN THE next day, I was free to go to Mab. She lay on a stretcher, her face pale. When she saw me, her lips stretched in a thin smile.
“I don’t know how to address you,” she said. “Lady or child?”
I took her hand in mind. Her fingers felt thin and cold. “My name’s still Vicky.”
She lifted my hand and turned it back and forth. The glitter that coated it sparkled in the light, and her smile broadened. “So it is.”
“Mab,” I said. “Your bloodstone. It’s . . .” I didn’t know how to tell her. “It’s gone.”
“Of course, child. How else could Ceridwen return?”
I stared.
“For all these years,” Mab said, “for more lifetimes than anyone should have to endure, I kept the bloodstone for her. And now she has made use of it.”
“But what’s going to happen to you?” The bloodstone had always been the source of Mab’s vitality.
“At long last, child, I’ll be able to rest.” She must have seen the stricken look on my face because she added, “But not yet. The battle isn’t over. Much work remains for both of us.”
The EMTs stepped in then, saying that they had to get Mab to the hospital. She squeezed my hand, said, “I’ll be fine, child,” and then was gone.
Before I went home, I walked past the corralled zombies. The cops were starting to load them into vans. I scrutinized each face, but I didn’t see anyone I knew. As far as I could tell, Tina was still missing.
I MADE IT HOME WITHOUT INCIDENT. WHEN I CALLED MASS General, the nurse told me that Mab was in “fair” condition and admitted for observation. She put me through to my aunt’s room, and Mab forbade me from coming to visit. “I’ll be out tomorrow,” she insisted. “Stay home and sleep, child. You need it.”
So I did. Maybe a better niece would have needed more convincing, but I was exhausted. If only I could get some sleep, everything that had happened would make more sense. And I’d wake up strong enough to face the next battle, whatever it might be.
Yet as soon as my body relaxed into sleep, Ceridwen woke up. Her presence flamed into my dreamscape, lighting up the usual darkness with sparkles of silver and gold. The light swirled. It solidified into a female shape, and she stepped forth. She was beautiful, with golden hair, rosy skin, and dark eyes. She wore a simple gown, belted at the waist, its hem brushing the ground.
My greeting to her: “Go away.”
I expected, maybe even hoped, to annoy her, but the goddess merely tilted her head and laughed. Shimmering, iridescent butterflies formed from the silvery sound and fluttered around her head, alighting like ornaments in her long, golden hair. They reminded me of Butterfly, the only Eidolon in history to sacrifice itself for its host, and for a moment I felt an inexplicable sadness.
Get over it, Vicky, I told myself. You’re better off without that demon. It was a pain in the ass.
A pain in the ass who saved yours, I told myself back in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Butterfly’s.
I’d never know whether Butterfly had deliberately led me into Pryce’s trap at the empty factory. That made me a little sad, too. I’d almost enjoy listening to its sputtering self-justification. But I couldn’t forget that fact that Butterfly had prevented Kane and me from killing each other.
I couldn’t puzzle out the Eidolon’s motives now, though, because Ceridwen spoke. “One freely invited is not so easily dispatched,” she said. Her voice rang softly, like wind chimes.
“You call that ‘freely’? I was desperate.”
“Still, you could have refused. And do not be ungrateful for the gifts I have given you. For one, I saved the life of our servant, Mab.”
“Mab is no one’s servant.”
Ceridwen tilted her head, her brown eyes puzzled. “It’s no insult. She has served me faithfully for many years. What else would you have me call her?”
“Just Mab.”
She shook her head like I wasn’t making sense. The butterflies in her hair made a shimmering cloud around her head, then settled again. She continued her litany of gifts. “I restored the life of your lover. I transformed Mallt-y-Nos, although that was a just punishment for her overreaching. She misused her power appallingly. Still, she’ll no longer hunt you before your time, so I count that as a gift.”
“What will happen to her?”
“She’ll remain a hellhound. I expect by now she’s found her way to Uffern to join the other demons there.” Her voice sounded bored, as though the transformed Night Hag was of no further interest. “But we haven’t mentioned my greatest gift to you.” She inclined her head toward my glittering right hand. “A share of my power. With time you will learn what that means, but one benefit you’ll see immediately is that it will help you control your demon mark.”
Maybe. I’d felt the Destroyer’s power push against Ceridwen’s back in Fenway Park. I didn’t want my body to become their battleground.
“Look,” I said. “You’re right. I can’t even begin to express my gratitude for what you did tonight. You got the Night Hag off my back and saved the two people I love most in the world. But this is my body. No offense, but there’s no room for two inhabitants.”
“You invited me freely,” she insisted.
“To save Mab! I let you in only for that. You’re acting like somebody who gets invited over for dinner and moves in permanently. Who does that? Nobody!”
Ceridwen held out a finger and studied the butterfly that alighted there. She didn’t speak.
I looked at my glittering hand. I’d washed and scrubbed, but it hadn’t come clean. It sparkled in shades of gold, silver, and scarlet. “These are fragments of the bloodstone, aren’t they?”
“They are. Fragments imbued with my power.”
“What will happen to Mab? That bloodstone kept her young and strong.”
“She will now live out the normal life span of a Cerddorion woman aged forty. Yes, her vitality will fade, as must happen with all mortals, but gradually. She’ll not feel the effects of her three centuries. That was my gift to her.” The butterflies began to circle Ceridwen, creating a shining cloud. “You’ll find that I’m a generous goddess . . . to those who serve me well.”
Energy flashed. Ceridwen and her cloud of butterflies vanished. But her words lingered in my dreamscape, fading slowly like the afterimage of a fireworks display. Somehow, they sounded less like a promise of generosity than a threat.
38
THE DAY OF GWEN’S COOKOUT DAWNED GRAY AND overcast, but by noon the sun had pushed apart the clouds. I sat beside Kane as he drove west on the Mass Pike toward Needham. My hand rested on his leg, above the knee. From time to time he put his hand on mine and gave a gentle squeeze. Since our reunion after his full-moon retreat, we hadn’t talked about that night. We hadn’t felt the need to. What we did need was to touch each other. I’m not talking about passionate embraces and hungry reclaiming of each other’s bodies, although there was that, too. I mean holding hands, sitting thigh-to-thigh, brushing fingertips against an arm or cheek—the sorts of small gestures that say I’m here, I acknowledge you, we’re together.
Soft classical music—Kane said he put it on for Mab, who sat
in back, but it was a piece I’d heard him choose many times—played through the car’s sound system. No one said much, and I had time to think about the events of the past few days.
Pryce was dead. Really dead. The corpse Daniel showed me when I went in to give my account of the SWAT raid looked like a thousand-year-old mummy, shrunken and desiccated. The Destroyer had done its job thoroughly.
“But why?” I’d wondered aloud to Mab after I picked her up from the hospital. She’d healed her injuries herself by shifting into a mouse, frightening a nurses’ aide in the process. When the doctor could find no trace of Mab’s former injuries, he had to discharge her.
“Why would the Destroyer kill Pryce? Think, child.” Although I’d never liked it when Mab implied I wasn’t thinking hard enough, it was miles better than hearing her call me Lady.
“Well, Butterfly told me they were fighting. And Hellions don’t like to answer to anyone. So when the Destroyer saw its chance, it turned on Pryce.”
“Those things are true, certainly. But think also of what the Destroyer said after the Lady came forth.”
The shapeshifter is mine.
“Pryce recognized you as the Lady of the Cerddorion,” Mab continued. “He believed that the Lady would thwart his plans. And so she did.”
“Not in battle,” I said thoughtfully, “but merely by showing up. Ceridwen manifested, and it was end-of-story for Pryce.”
“Precisely. But it wasn’t Ceridwen alone, child. It was you. The Destroyer killed Pryce, at least in part, to prevent Pryce from killing you.”
Which meant Difethwr had plans for me. I wasn’t exactly eager to find out what they were.
Did Difethwr’s plans include the Old Ones? Tina was still missing. Daniel had confirmed that Tina wasn’t one of the Morfran-possessed zombies at Fenway Park. Neither had she been found in the raid on the abandoned factory. I’d gone back there myself. The cops were long gone, and I could wander the place at will. I explored every square inch. I found the basement cells Bonita had described. I even found the cell Tina had occupied. My heart sank when my flashlight revealed the words scrawled in bubble gum–pink lipstick on the concrete wall: Vicky help me!!! The words blurred, and I had to blink fast to clear my eyes.
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