A giant gaping hole opened beneath her and sucked her under. The groaning of it sounded like the roll of a level-ten earthquake.
When it was all done and Echo was buried within the healing depths of the earth, Flint collapsed, flinging her arms over her eyes and gasping for breath.
Exhaustion leached from her pores as she stared up at the endless expanse of stars above.
The night was deadly quiet, so hushed that all she could hear was the stir of leaves in the branches and her own ragged breaths.
What the heck had just happened?
A twig snapped, and terrified that yet another monster had come for her, she rolled swiftly to a standing position. Lightning and thunder shook the very ground beneath her feet as she gripped Truth in her palm, ready to destroy anything that came at her.
Flint felt feral, wild, and capable of almost anything in that moment.
Her skin was lacerated and burned. Her clothes were nearly all gone; all that was left was a bit of shredded fabric barely covering her goods, and her hair danced like charmed snakes around her head.
She knew what she must look like right now. Like one of them. One of the monsters of lore and legend.
But instead of it being another opponent coming for her, all she saw was Dean’s glowing, tricolored eyes.
“Now he knows,” he said in a thick, raspy voice. “You fought well, Flint. Do the same tomorrow.”
“Now who knows?” She shook her head, still holding the sword out in front of her, almost like a shield.
She didn’t trust anyone here. To include him. He’d done something to her. That button. It’d been Dean who’d caused this.
“Prepare your sacrifice.”
And with those haunting words, Death vanished.
67
Flint
Idris hovered over her like a mother hen for the rest of the evening, giving her foul-smelling poultices he said would help heal the burns by tomorrow morning.
But no matter how many times she tried to get him to talk about what’d happened to Echo, to her, he’d clam up and deftly switch the subject.
“What do you think of your soup?”
She tipped her spoon through the asparagus crème and shrugged. “It’s great. Will you stop changing the subject!” she snapped, letting the golden spoon clatter into the porcelain crockery.
He glowered, set his goblet of wine down, and huffed. “What is there to talk about?”
They were eating by candlelight, in her favorite part of the room, the library. Flint really didn’t like the loneliness of her big bed and found that a crick in her neck in the morning from sleeping like she was a contortionist wasn’t the worst thing in the world. She’d ten times rather wake up sore than in that huge bed all by herself.
At least surrounded by books she felt some sort of warmth from this place.
“Oh, I don’t know. How about for starters the fact that Echo still isn’t out of the woods yet—”
“She’ll survive, thanks to your quick thinking.”
Flint had suffered an extreme amount of damage herself after that duel. She’d been forced to go into the earth, and though most of the wounds had sealed up, her skin was still pink and raw in some spots. She’d be lucky if she didn’t walk away from this night without at least one new scar.
She hissed. “Or the fact that, I dunno”—she flung up her hands—“I didn’t set her on fire that way! Dean cheated. He stuck something on me, a golden pin. If I didn’t lose yesterday, I definitely did today.”
Flint didn’t understand why it was important he confirm to her what she already knew deep down in her heart—cheaters never prosper. Even unintentional ones.
What she’d done today must have broken a million different codes of ethics in one of these gauntlets.
But there was more to it than that. It was Dean’s words that she couldn’t shake out of her head no matter how hard she tried.
“What am I sacrificing tomorrow, Idris? And when are we ever going to talk about the fact that you’re my cousin?”
His jaw clenched. Idris was as still as a statue, and with his color skin, it was easy to imagine that he actually was one. Except he radiated fury that made her want to whimper to feel it.
He’d been as attentive as her own mother would have been if she’d been alive to see this, but he’d also been distant and cold. Nothing at all like the fae she’d come to know and care for as a friend.
And now that he was her cousin… it changed everything.
“It changes nothing,” he snapped.
She scooted back on her seat as though she’d been slapped. “Did you just read my thoughts?”
“Knowing what comes, what sacrifices there are to make, it changes nothing. So why know them?” He plowed on, completely ignoring her previous question.
“Because I have to know. Idris, I’m failing miserably, aren’t I? Nothing is going the way I’d planned.”
When she returned to her room, Flint had felt the eyes of thousands of dark court fae on her, studying her, watching her.
She’d had to walk down the halls, limping in pain but forced to hold her chin high and pretend their silent accusations and censorious gazes meant nothing to her.
That she hadn’t nearly killed one of their own by means she’d not controlled herself.
Or maybe they hadn’t cared about her almost killing Echo as much as they did her saving Echo?
Maybe kindness was considered a weakness out here. But she wouldn’t take it back even if she could. Those screams would haunt Flint till the day she died. It was one thing to kill and make it quick, efficient, and painless. It was quite another to watch someone suffer.
Being around Idris, she knew the myth that the fae were heartless was just that, a myth. He’d told her so, but she was witnessing it for herself.
She’d done something, something to piss him off royally. She only wished she knew what it was.
Sniffing, she brushed at her nose, determined that she was done crying over this. She’d had to take three baths just to get all the tears out without being totally obvious about it.
Standing, he walked around the table until he stood in front of her, and without saying a word picked up her hand and kissed the back of it tenderly before running this thumb across its surface.
“Because the sacrifice won’t be only yours. Good night, Flint DeLuca. Sleep well.”
And rather than vanish as was usually his way, Idris turned on his heel and made his way slowly to her door. His steps were slow and heavy, as though he wore the cares of the world on his shoulders.
She hoped he’d turn back around, explain himself a little before he left, but he didn’t. He simply opened the door and walked out.
Stomach full but mind awhirl with questions, she knew falling asleep right now would be out of the question. The first three days she’d been here he’d been so different, so open and willing to laugh with her.
But ever since the tests started, Flint sensed a disconnect. Like he was trying to pull himself away, but why?
What was coming tomorrow?
Cain
* * *
Cain wasn’t sure how long he’d spent in the library, but judging by the ache between his shoulder blades and how bleary his eyes were, he’d say hours, if not the full day.
Leaning back in his chair, he looked over at Eli and Seth. Eli was staring at the same page he’d been looking at for the past half hour with a glazed look in his eyes, and Seth wasn’t faring much better. He’d run his fingers through his hair so much that one side of it stuck up like he’d been shocked.
Seth shook himself like a Great Dane, gave a wide yawn, and then asked, “Anything?”
Licking the front of his teeth, Cain didn’t know what to say other than to grunt. After the whole “tree” incident, he’d decided he could either go stir-crazy with nothing more to do or change his focus to maybe trying to reignite Layla’s cold trail.
Try to find something, some starting point. Odds
were slim, he knew that. It wasn’t like he was dealing with an everyday type of bad guy. This was the Triad, high-caste demon lords with a reach that went far and deep.
Eli knuckled his eyes hard. “Nothing here either. But we don’t give up.”
“C’mon, man.” Cain flicked a pencil he’d been tapping rhythmically onto the desk down onto the floor. “You know we’re looking for a needle in a haystack. The hive was one of Layla’s creations. Genetically modified for one purpose only, and that was to keep us preoccupied with them so that she could go on about her own business. There’s not a hint of where she’s going or even where to find the trail of the Triad scum.”
A heavily clearing throat in the corner had them all turning. Adam stepped out into a beam of lamplight and nodded.
The cave was deeply dark in places where shadows literally seemed to live and breathe.
It unnerved Cain that he hadn’t heard Adam come in earlier. Thankfully Grace had had the foresight to heavily ward the cave with level-ten charms cast by only the strongest of witches.
What they were doing now could get them all dead. It’d never been more clear to Cain than now, looking at his cousins and Adam, how vulnerable of a position they were in.
It was unnerving to say the least.
“Got a call earlier from Asher.”
Cain wrinkled his nose. He knew a little of Asher, the Death Priest and his aunt’s current lover.
Why she’d want to go tangle the sheets with a creature designed for one purpose—and that was the extermination of all her kind, the Nephilim—he’d never know. But being a Lust demon as she was, she’d never really been all that picky when it came to her choice of bed partners.
The fact that this particular death priest didn’t act like any normal priest Cain had ever heard about was more than a little suspicious and just went to show how desperate they were for any sort of intel if Adam was actually willing to speak with him.
“How the hell did he find us?” Cain prodded Adam to continue.
“SAT phone. Called the carnival number. I just happened to be the one who picked up.”
“What’d he want?” Eli asked with a fair amount of suspicion in his tone.
“Wanted to know if we knew where Dora was.”
Cain hissed, feeling as though he’d been sucker punched. One thing priests were known for was being the bloodhounds of the paranormal world. The fact that he’d lost her wasn’t a good sign at all.
Adam rolled his shoulders, and in that movement alone, in the slight hunching of his shoulders and squeezing of his eyes, Cain could see just how stressed out Adam really was.
Nothing ever fazed their beloved leader. But this was. Adam was troubled. And deeply.
“Things are popping off with the Triad. And apparently Dora’s at the heart of it. He didn’t say so, but I have a feeling we’re going to be getting company at some point. Just be ready guys, ’cause if things go the way I expect them to, we won’t need to keep searching for Layla, she’ll come to us.”
Cain opened his mouth, ready to say… whatever, when he felt an icy breeze shiver down his back and prickle the flesh at his neck.
He knew immediately what that was, he’d sensed it every time Flint had appeared to him. Jerking to his feet so quickly that the chair he’d been sitting on toppled over, he turned in time to hear the other three men in the room growl deep in their chests.
She stood as a ghostly apparition upon the desk he’d just been studying at.
“Cain,” she mumbled.
And before he could say anything in response, she fainted. Not thinking, he reached out to catch her, knowing she’d slip right through his fingers as she had every other time.
But this time she didn’t.
This time Flint landed in his arms. Looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes, she whispered, “I just had to see you one more time.”
His heart stuttered as he shook his head in silent negation, already knowing what she was trying to say. “Stop, Flint. Whatever you’re about to say, stop.”
But she crunched his shirt in her fist and yanked his head toward her. Her strength was unbelievable; he had no choice but to follow where she led.
“In case I don’t get to come home tomorrow, I just wanted you to know one thing. I’ll send him back. No matter what I have to do, I’ll send him back.”
“Abel?” He swallowed. “Baby”—Cain curled his hands around her, never wanting to let her go—“she woke up. Janet woke up. Abel’s gonna make it.”
Her smile was tremulous. “He’s so strong, Cain. But I’m not. I can’t hold our connection much longer. I love you, okay.”
His eyes were greedy, taking in every sharp dip and plane of her face. A face so different and yet the same, but also scarred by whatever battles she faced alone.
Her hair smelled of soot, and there were bright red, angry burn slashes on her cheeks. It’d been nearly three months since he’d physically seen her last.
It felt like an eternity.
How was she here now? If she could come back, then where was Abel? Or was this just more fae magic he couldn’t understand?
“Flint.” His voice cracked as he traced the abrasion on her jaw. Her lashes fluttered against the tops of her cheeks.
Unable to resist her any longer, he slanted his lips over hers, sucking them into his mouth greedily, nipping and nibbling and trying to assure himself by touch alone that she was real.
She was his again.
Her tongue shot out, demanding his in return, and he sighed into her desperate touch. Only here had he ever been whole, only when she touched him, when she was with him. The monster that always beat inside him tamed only for her. He was a man again because Flint was his compass.
His purpose.
He’d be lost without her.
Her teeth scraped brutally against his. The kiss wasn’t passionate so much as an assurance that in each other’s arms there was truth. The world around them was burning to the ground, but here they were safe, they were connected to something greater than themselves.
But the connection couldn’t last forever.
Pulling gently away with one final kiss, she nuzzled her nose to his. “I have a cousin, Cain. His name is Idris.”
And then with a bitter smile, she faded from his arms like mist over rolling waters.
A strangled cry leapt from his throat as he tried in vain to get her back. When he looked up again, it was to see all three sets of eyes on him.
Seth looked angry.
Adam shocked.
But Eli’s look was the hardest to take. His look was shattered.
68
Flint
It hadn’t been for long, but she’d time-jumped to Cain. Well, most of her anyway.
She’d been mostly a spirit, which was why she’d still looked like a ghost, but she’d felt his touch, his kiss, and that alone was worth any pain she’d suffered for doing it.
Today was the final gauntlet, which meant today was also her last day to be free.
Idris had told her once that being a stag didn’t mean she had to die. There was still one final test to get through, but the outcome didn’t matter so much anymore. She was stuck in this hell for the foreseeable future.
But she’d thought of a plan last night.
One that would at least guarantee Abel’s freedom.
She’d not gotten an ounce of sleep last night—she’d been too revved up from Cain’s kiss and all the stress—so she’d turned to the bookshelves, deciding now was the time to put the room to its actual use.
Call it fate, chance, or just plain dumb luck, but the book she’d taken down just so happened to talk about the gauntlets, the purpose of them, and vaguely how they worked.
Most of it had gone right over her head; little sleep made concentration mighty difficult. The book also hadn’t helped her in figuring out whether she’d actually passed any of the previous challenges, (she was sure she hadn’t, but she was clinging to the thought that maybe Dean
had a plan to kill them all—except for her cousin, of course—and bust them out of there) She’d been just about to toss the book against the wall in frustration when she came across a passage that made all the breath in her body come surging out all at once.
The final challenge dealt with whatever it was the one being challenged loved most. And whatever that was would wind up being part of the challenge.
What she loved most in this godforsaken realm was Abel, which meant he’d be there, which meant she possibly had a method of getting to him and bailing him out.
Of course there was the whole sacrificing what mattered most to you bit Dean had mentioned earlier to help wake Abel up from his stupor, but she’d cross that bridge when she got to it. For now she at least had a plan, and that was the best news she’d had in days.
A knock sounded on her door, and knowing immediately who it was, Flint called out, “Come in.”
Idris poked his head in a moment later. Once more he was shirtless. She seriously needed to have a talk with him about that.
“You know,” she said, accepting a quick hug from him once he’d come in, “leaving a bit of yourself to the imagination could totally get all the sidhe hotties hawt for you. Just sayin’. I mean, you’re all just like blam with it.” Laughing, she poked at his chest with her finger.
Giving her the smile she was quickly coming to associate with him, the half twitch, half curl of the lips, he gently slapped her finger away.
“Will you stop,” he groused.
“Nope.” She popped the p. “Family rules and all that. I totes am allowed to get on your nerves about it.”
He frowned. “You’re in a good mood. Why?”
There was a look of curiosity in his gaze, like he didn’t quite trust this. She shrugged.
“Well, I figure I’m toast either way at this point. So as long as I don’t die in there, I actually stand a fighting chance of maybe surviving being a stag too. And once that’s over with, I can go back home. I can’t wait for you to meet my Cain. He’s gonna love you.”
The Complete Tempted Series Page 77