There were witches, or at least what she’d always thought a witch should look like in fairy tales. Aged, bent-over crones with hooked noses full of flesh-toned warts and wrinkles that furrowed deeply through their weathered faces.
There were also creatures that were so beautiful if she’d had a soul, she’d have offered it to them on a platter—four of them, standing side by side and with identical features.
Pale blond hair, doe eyes, and bow-shaped lips, their only differences were that each was dressed in a different gown. One was dressed in a gown of fresh-blossoming leaves and budding flowers that wreathed around her limbs and through her hair. Another’s gown was crafted of the purest of snowflakes that fell in a fine dust down around her feet. The third was in a gown built of twigs and fall-colored leaves, and the final was in a gown that blazed as brightly as the sun.
But for all their beauty, their eyes were cold and cruel.
She shivered, heart pounding like a jackhammer in her chest. How was she ever going to do this? The power in the room was frankly terrifying.
The rosebuds on her fingers were in full bloom right now, and every so often she’d choke on a cloud of flowery perfume. She really needed to get herself under control or she was going to go full nuclear.
On herself.
“Oh God.” She grabbed her stomach and grimaced. How stupid that she suddenly missed the days when the only baddies she knew were beelike drones. Funny how they seemed suddenly so pitiful when compared to the fae all around.
Again she looked toward The Ciardah’s empty platform. Nothing could start until he arrived.
Maybe he’d changed his mind? Or maybe they’d gotten their dates wrong and she still had an extra day of practice, or—
“They are the elementals.” Idris’s deep voice was a welcome relief to the torrent of fear rippling hot and heavy through her veins.
Twirling on her heel, Flint looked at him with large eyes. “What? Who?”
He pointed up toward the alien and terrifyingly beautiful quartet. “Spring. Winter. Fall. And Summer.”
“Huh? You don’t say. And why are they here exactly? I thought this was a dark-court-only event.”
Not that she really knew if they were light or dark, but they were way too pretty to be dark. Or at least that was her current barometer for judging who was who.
He smirked. Idris had gone back to being shirtless. The bird’s skeletal face on his necklace stared at her menacingly. The axes glistening on his belt seemed to mock her.
Ridiculous, she knew. But right now everything was mocking her, telling her she didn’t stand a chance in heck of surviving this.
His hands were on her face, forcing her to look him in the eyes.
Their amber glow was quite pretty today.
“Idris, I don’t think I’m ready for this.” She grabbed his wrists, squeezing hard enough that her claws were almost to the point of puncturing through his flesh.
But he didn’t flinch, even knowing one touch of her venom could end him.
“You’re ready for this. I know you can do this.”
So many words tumbled through her head. Words like “I can’t” or “yeah, right,” but the last thing she wanted to do was give the words life. To give them power over her. So she locked them down deep in her heart and nodded instead.
“Darkling, look at me,” he commanded gently, and there was earnest entreaty in his voice. An urgency to it she’d not heard before that made her curious enough to look back at him with a worried frown.
“Idris?”
“You asked me once why I’d be willing to fight for you with The Ciardah, even not knowing you.”
She nodded, even as the whispering from the crowds above took on an elevated pitch and tenor and her bones suddenly trembled with the innate knowledge that she was seconds away from her first test.
His thumb rubbed gently across her flesh. “I’ve not told you everything, halfling.”
“Oh God,” she whimpered as tears began to swim in her eyes. “I don’t stand a chance do I?”
But instead of answering her question, he pressed on quickly. “You mean more to me than you know. It is true that fae are cold and distant; often that can mean we come off looking as though we have no heart or feelings, but we do. We feel deeply, to the very marrow of our beings. Letting anything in to that degree can kill us.”
What was he saying? That he was in love with her? But he hardly knew her. And while she felt a strong bond to him, there was no denying it—she didn’t feel like that for him at all.
“Idris, you can’t—”
He planted a finger against her lips. “The night of the last Great Hunt, the night you were conceived, I was too. I too am the seed of Ciardah’s loins.”
She gasped. “You mean—”
“We are family. And I’ve waited years to find you.”
There were so many more questions to be asked. Like how hard had he tried to find her really? And was he really her cousin or just saying that so she would have “something to fight for?”
Music blasted so piercingly through the stone chamber that Flint almost screamed. Instead she clapped her hands over her ears and glanced up at the man, the myth, the legend, as he took his place on his dais.
Impressive black robes sailed behind him like shadows in a breeze. On his snow-white hair he wore a wreath of ivy.
Her grandpappy.
The butthead had finally decided to make an appearance. Seemed like making a spectacle of things ran on both sides of her family tree. And though she hated to admit it, even in the privacy of her own mind, The Ciardah made an impressive entrance.
“Fae!” The Ciardah’s voice was a boom of sound that rose above the music. “Thank you for joining us on this blessed occasion when we test the mettle of our future stag!”
She gnashed her teeth together.
Idris leaned into her side and whispered, “Relax, darkling. He is trying to get under your skin and throw your focus off.”
“Well, it’s working,” she hissed. “And for the record, I’m nobody’s stag.”
His warm chuckle rolled across her flesh, and for the first time instead of being nervous of that warmth she relaxed into it.
One thing she’d always been good at was trusting her instincts, and right now her instincts (as illogical as it seemed) were telling her that he really was her biological cousin.
She’d resigned herself in life to being an only child, always believing she only had herself to depend on. But them being blood related could explain her instant draw to him and him to her.
A female in the crowd hollered, “I hear differently, Ciardah. That this stag wishes to undo the honor.”
All eyes turned toward the source and then immediately looked away with large, dare she think it, fearful eyes. Even The Ciardah, who’d looked ready to throttle someone at the interruption, suddenly looked subdued and calm when Winter stepped out of from the crowd and bowed her head.
Fat flakes of snow glittered down around her thin shoulders.
“I’m guessing,” Flint leaned into Idris and whispered, “that she’s bad news?”
He nodded slowly. “You never anger an elemental.”
“Noted.” Flint couldn’t tear her eyes off the hypnotically beautiful creature even if her knees couldn’t seem to stop knocking together.
If she’d had a soul it would be screaming at her to turn her eyes away right now.
Of all the fae in this place, the elementals totally spooked her the worst.
“My dear Winter.” Ciardah beamed like a proud parent.
He’d totally gotten GQ’d up for this event too, fae style. His dark skin practically glowed, and the white of his hair reminded Flint of snow shot through with frosty, silvery bands of glitter.
Dressed in hunter green from head to toe, there was something regal and beautiful about the man who basically wanted her to die from an arrow out of his quiver.
“I welcome you to the House of Dragons.”
<
br /> Her smirk looked more menacing than reassuring, but she dipped her head in acknowledgement. “Ciardah.”
And then the full force of Grandpappy’s eyes were boring straight through her, and if she hadn’t already emptied her bladder before coming here, Flint might have totally embarrassed herself just now.
His eyes were black, hollow holes of darkness that writhed with power and evil.
Okay, maybe she was exaggerating a wee bit, but it totally felt like his crazy eyes were gonna zap her right where she stood.
“And you are right, our stag wishes to forfeit the honor. I can do no less as a fae of honor but to grudgingly give her the option.”
“That freaking liar,” she snapped, but Idris was yanking her back with a hand on her shoulder.
“Remember where we are and who you are. All here follow him, darkling. Your only chance of leaving is surviving this gauntlet. Let him say whatever he will say, do not react. That is exactly what he wants. A reason to hold you back.”
Those words were chilling and exactly what she needed to hear. Locking her heels in place, she promised herself that no matter what he said, she wouldn’t take the bait.
She was here for Abel. Period.
And to learn more about Idris. Her cousin. Just thinking that made her feel a strange sort of giddiness in an empty place in her heart she hadn’t known existed.
“She will be tried in three ways. Speed, skill, and intellect. Each day will bring a new challenge. Today’s challenge is…”
He smiled, raising his hands as the anticipation of the crowd grew to a killing level.
Flint grabbed her stomach. “Please not speed. Please God, don’t let him say speed.”
“Speed!” he cried, and the amphitheater rumbled loudly with approval. The bloodthirsty shouts were so loud in fact that she felt the vibrations of them travel up through the soles of her booted feet.
She couldn’t move. Every limb felt locked in place as her body flooded with a rush of adrenaline.
Idris turned her around, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “You’ve done it once. You can do it again. You just have to be faster than your opponent.”
She snorted, but there was nothing funny about any of this. “Who happens to be?”
Clenching his jaw, Idris looked up at The Ciardah and there was definitely a worried frown on his face.
The nail in the coffin was when he hugged her tight.
“I’m dead,” she whimpered.
With a mighty clap, the noise in the stadium died, Idris’s comforting arms were gone, and she was alone in the stone chamber.
There were no fae above or below her. No dragons, no sky. She was locked in and cut off from everyone.
“Where’d everybody go? Hey!” she cried, walking in circles and starting to panic with urgency the moment it dawned on her there wasn’t an escape hatch anywhere in sight.
No door. No windows. No nuthin’.
And then the water started pouring in.
64
Flint
“Water bad. Water very bad!” She screamed as she shot vines out of her body, commanding they plug up the holes in the walls where the water was pouring in with a rapidity that was dizzying. In seconds the water was up to her ankles, in minutes up to her knees.
Flint was shaky with terror, unable to think past anything other than not dying down here. She was too young to die.
Not to mention the fact that if she died, so did Abel. He was in no condition to a be a proper stag, not that she knew what a proper stag was, but…
“Oh God!” She screamed again when one of the stones of the wall burst free and gallons of water began pouring in. She was now waist deep in it.
Breathing was really difficult at this point; it was more like gunfire bursts of air that she sucked down her lungs like they were a bellows. The room was starting to spin.
Then the ring on her finger, Idris’s ring, pulsed with a wave of warmth of life.
And in seconds she knew what she was doing.
“Don’t panic, DeLuca.” She held up her hands and stopped shooting out the vines; they were little more than putting Band-Aids on a gaping wound at this point. Totally worthless.
Could her vines help her out in some other way? She looked at the gaping hole hemorrhaging water and wondered if maybe she gathered enough ropes of vines together she could possibly seal up the hole just long enough to give her a few extra minutes so that she could focus on creating the transdimensional vortex of doom rather than freaking out about the water rolling in.
She nibbled on the corner of her lip—there was absolutely no time to think about failure. She had to succeed. No matter what.
Calling to her vines, she commanded more of them to her aid than ever before. Thick ropes of them pooled upon the water’s rising surface. Slinging them out, she commanded them to create a webbing that would at least halt the flow from that leak only.
The vines, now as thick as her thighs, slammed against the stone. And while it wasn’t a stopper for the water, it did at least push back on the wave.
Water had gotten as high as her chest, but it was now a more manageable flow. She’d still drown if she couldn’t figure this riddle out, just in a few minutes rather than a few seconds.
But already she felt the heavy press of it pushing hard against her inadequate barrier.
She had a minute, maybe two at most before the pressure ripped her vines out.
Closing her eyes, she focused on hopping. When Idris had shown her how to do it, he’d taken her to a place where she’d seen the light. She’d had something to focus her mind on.
Here there was nothing but water, water, and more water, which only made her more frantic and panicked.
Flint tried hard to ignore the fact that the water level had gradually risen to the tops of her breasts now and was dangerously close to her neck. She had maybe a foot of space above her, but she’d never be able to float up, not with the amount of water gushing in.
“Any day now, DeLuca,” she hissed, growing frustrated and irritated with herself that rather than creating a vortex out of here, all she could focus on was the fact that her hair was now starting to dance on top of the waves.
Eyes still closed, she tried to picture the ball of light in her mind’s eye. Urging herself to go to it. To hop out of here.
But she was rooted to the spot, unmovable. Heart hammering wildly inside her chest, she made the mistake of opening an eye and yelped because the water was now up to her chin.
She was gonna die here. Take her final breaths here. Never leave this place of nightmares. Never get to learn more about her cousin, or free Abel, or see Cain again.
That final thought brought a lump to her throat.
“Now… now that you know what can happen, you know what to watch out for.”
Her vines were ripped from the hole violently and water poured in so quick that even standing on tiptoe she knew she only had seconds to live.
“Eyes open and chin up, DeLuca. You got this” were her last whispered words before there was no more air to breathe.
Jerking, she gazed on in horror at the darkness entombing her. The watery grave destined for her.
Her lungs screamed for air, panic eating away at the necessary oxygen quicker than it should have.
Her cheeks bulged as she fought in vain not to open her mouth and breathe.
And then instinct kicked in and she did breathe. Water rushed through her lungs, and bubbles of precious air escaped from her as her body felt like it was on fire and her head swam.
Spasmodic, uncontrollable twitches took over her limbs and her consciousness began to grow fuzzy and dim.
Her mother smiled down on her.
I love you, my Flinty. My beautiful girl.
Exhausted from fighting, darkness threatening to swallow her whole, Flint had just enough strength to look at her mother.
She was so beautiful. Just the way she remembered her.
Kind eyes and a ready smile. Her
ghostly image walked slowly toward her.
It’s not your time, baby girl. You know that, right? You still have work to do.
Flint tried to shake her head, to tell her mom that she was ready, that she didn’t want to fight this anymore, but the words wouldn’t form.
Momma’s fingers ran like silk down Flint’s face.
Look at the light, baby. You see it?
No, she hadn’t seen it before. But this time when she looked, it was there. A welcoming pinprick of golden light that beckoned to her.
I need you to go there, baby girl. I need you to go there now…
Nodding, Flint called to the light, called it forward. Told it to come for her, and this time it did.
Cain
* * *
He was in the library when he heard the scream.
Rhiannon shoved the door open a second later. “Flint! It’s Flint!” she cried.
Cain was up and out of his chair a second later, rushing after Rhi’s shadow like the hounds of Hell nipped at his feet. They rounded the corner, and it was like he’d suddenly been slammed against an invisible wall.
Flint was curled up into herself, lying on the earthen floor of Grace’s living room. A mound of dirt pillowed her drenched body.
She was unmoving and pale blue. Her hair clung to her face. She was dead.
It was that thought that finally spurred him into action. Crying out, he raced for her. Dropping to his knees and landing beside her, he reached out. Immediately the ground began to rumble and her vines ripped out of her body.
“No. No!” he screamed, snatching up her hand and trying in vain to keep her with him, but the earth was merciless as it dragged her under.
“Flint! Come back. Stay with me, princess. Stay with me.” Cain snapped at the vines, but they were thorny and there were many. For every one that he managed to tear away, two more took its place.
“Cain, stop!” It was Seth who planted his hands on Cain’s shoulders and spun him about. “Let the earth have her. You’ve got to let her go.”
The Complete Tempted Series Page 74