by Elise Faber
"Shush you." He put his phone away.
“Hey,” she said to Morgan when he dropped in front of her. The tall triplet wavered on his feet and she made a grab for him, almost falling herself as she tried to stop him from face planting.
His hands reached for her biceps, steadying her before he staggered a few steps away. “I’m okay,” Morgan told her. “Just a little tired.”
“I don’t think so.” Closing the distance between them, she slung his arm around her shoulders and forcefully walked him to the trees ringing the clearing. He was still heavy, but she was prepared for his weight the second time around. Cody met her at the tree line, helping her get Morgan to sit down with his back against one of the trunks.
“I need—” Morgan began, a weak protest since his hands were shaking and he was pale and sweaty.
“You need rest,” she told him firmly.
“I—”
“Just go with it, bro,” Cody said. “Daughtry is going to win in this.”
She nodded because it was true.
Morgan looked at her, his hazel eyes bloodshot. “Only for a few minutes.”
“Sure,” she agreed, knowing that the moment Morgan succumbed to sleep, he would be out. “Here.” Walking over to a nearby storage chest, one of many stashed amongst the clearing, she pulled out a blanket.
Morgan was snoring before she finished tucking it around him.
“Dante will be here in five minutes,” Cody said as she stood.
“Okay, but let’s—”
She’d been about to suggest they try mixing their magic one more time before everyone got there when she noticed the disturbance above their heads.
Black threads attacked the apex of the shield.
But this time the shield didn’t hold.
Or maybe, it hadn’t quite closed.
Either way, the black magic burst through the barrier and headed straight for them.
Twenty-One
Trees exploded around them. Morgan surged to his feet.
“Get down!” he shouted as he lunged for them.
But Cody had already tackled her to the ground, was shielding her with his body.
"Dominic," he shouted mentally. "Get everyone up here."
The sounds were intense, and it wasn’t just Cody’s yelled thoughts. It was the noise of branches snapping as the black magic poured into the clearing, into the space around them.
And the sensations.
The mere prickling of her skin from earlier in the day magnified. Her body rebelled against the presence of the Dalshie—making her stomach churn, her nerves burn.
There was a brief lull in the noise, and she started to move.
“No,” Morgan said, from behind them. He pressed her head back down from where it had started to pop up. “Wait.”
His voice was strained but she didn’t have time to analyze why.
Because more explosions rang out. More debris flew.
"We’re here," came Dominic’s mental voice.
"Wait," Cody shifted off of her. To Morgan, he said, “Keep her back.”
“But Cody—”
He shook his head. “Keep with the plan. Stay out of sight until I give the signal.” His voice dropped. “God knows I don’t want to risk you, not without more practice, but we’re out of time.”
“I—”
“We have to wait for the right opening, until we know what we’re dealing with.” "Now!" he thought and was up in front of her, blocking her with his body. “Go!”
Morgan grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. “Come on.”
They weaved through the trees, unable to even glance behind them, their path was so littered with debris, with fallen branches, felled trees, broken benches. She and Morgan had to scramble to make it over them.
It seemed an eternity before the LexTals and the other soldiers burst out onto the path, surrounding them.
“Go to Cody,” Morgan told them. “Hurry.”
“Get to the hall,” Dante said. “Morgan, stay with her.” He took off at a sprint, the LexTals following.
She and Morgan ran for the exit. The Forgotten were there, taking up posts around the door to the gardens, presumably to stop the Dalshie from flanking them.
Daughtry closed her eyes, doing her best to block out the distractions as she focused in on the bond—
Cody stood in front of the largest group of Dalshie she’d ever seen. Close to a hundred of them with their gleaming ebony, almost-carapace-like skin, their red-eyes focused on Cody like he was a seal and they were Great Whites.
Her stomach hit the dirt. There was no way they would survive this.
Elisabeth appeared in a flash of black.
Her mahogany hair was the exact shade that Daughtry saw in the mirror every morning, her slightly too full lips identical to her own. The fact that her appearance was the same as a monster’s was unnerving to say the least, but what was worse was the cruel smile Elisabeth wore.
That malevolent smirk gave Daughtry a glimpse of her potential future. What would happen to her if she turned.
The notion made her sick.
"No, cowgirl." Cody’s voice surprised her. She hadn’t realized that he’d sensed her watching him. But he didn’t comment on the distraction of her mind in his, her thoughts intruding on his, instead he merely reassured her. "You are not your mother."
"I love you."
"You’re my heart."
There were a thousand other things she should say, apologies, acceptance, forgiveness, but none of that mattered. Because if by some small chance, they happened to live through this, what she wanted Cody to know was that when the end came for them, when they faced odds that would make most men run and hide, they would stand together.
That they were stronger together. She let go of the bond, started forward but was stopped by Morgan.
“Screw waiting for the right moment!” she hissed. “I won’t stand by. We have to use the magic—”
“Not happening.”
She shoved him.
He grunted in pain, and for the first time she noticed that he was bleeding.
“Holy crap,” she gasped, not sure how she’d managed to miss the blood staining the entire right side of his body. The wound, a gaping hole on his shoulder, was filled with dirt and debris. “I’m sorry!”
She couldn’t do anything to heal the wound, but she could bandage like a champ, thanks to Suz’s training.
Managing to tear the bottom hem from her T-shirt, she folded it into a pad and pressed it to Morgan’s shoulder.
“Why didn’t you say something?” she demanded. Blood dripped over her fingers. Too much, too fast. He needed a proper dressing or—
“Leave it,” he said, shoving her hand away and struggling to tie up the makeshift bandage.
She tore another strip from her shirt, looking very much like a wannabe punk rock groupie and shoved his hands away before using it to secure the pad to the wound. “Sit down before you pass out.” It was a very Suz-like order but unfortunately it didn’t have the same effect as the doctor’s would have.
Morgan grabbed her and tried to haul her back toward the Forgotten.
A twist, using her recently learned self-defense skills, and she was free. “I will not hide in the corner and let Cody be out there alone,” she growled.
Cody. Who was currently facing a group of Dalshie who outnumbered him and the rest of the soldiers at least ten to one. Cody who’d risked himself for her over and over. Cody who’d brought her home, who’d suffered because of her.
Elisabeth’s cold voice suddenly rang out, echoing loudly through the trees. “Where are you, dear daughter?” A malicious laugh. “Whoops. I didn’t let the cat out of the bag, did I?”
“If you burst in there now, you’ll ruin everything Cody is trying to set up,” Morgan spoke into her ear, his voice quiet, as if he expected the Dalshie to overhear. “Elisabeth doesn’t know about the Bond Magic. We need to keep it that way.”
“We ba
rely know about it,” she snapped. “And Elisabeth is going to find out about it eventually.”
“You need to be smart,” Morgan whispered. “Don’t show our hand until we’re ready.”
“But what if Cody doesn’t ever give the signal?”
“He will.”
“How do you know?”
Morgan touched her cheek with his finger. “Because he wants to live. He wants a future with you.”
“Come out, come out,” Elisabeth called, a voice filled with cold contempt. “Bring the Orb and I’ll let you all live.”
Daughtry’s panic settled, fear fading until her mind focused with a sort of crystal clarity that enabled her to think.
Her fingers went to the front pocket of her jeans.
She touched—not the note from her father—but what was in the other one: the Orb.
It was smooth, small, and hard as glass.
“I have an idea,” she whispered to Morgan.
"Delay her," she thought to Cody.
Then she silently followed Morgan back to the Forgotten and began issuing instructions.
Twenty-Two
She stepped out from between the trees and tried not to puke.
The object in her pocket practically pulsed with excitement.
Elisabeth’s violet eyes flashed red, the final sign of the Dalshie infection, the do-not-pass-go card that truly separated her mother from normal beings and placed her firmly in the category of evil.
Not that Daughtry hadn’t known that already, but seeing the crimson irises made that fact hit center.
“If you promise to leave, promise to stop hunting the Rengalla then I will go with you,” she said.
Cody stepped forward, a protest already forming on his lips.
Elisabeth beat him to it. She laughed shrilly. “I’ve heard that line before, daughter. It didn’t save your friend then, and it won’t save these useless piles of skin and bones now.”
“I didn’t have the Orb before.” Daughtry reached into her pocket, pulled out the glass sphere. She rested it in her palm and allowed her magic to flow over it. The small globe lit up, reflecting her violet flames. “It feels incredible, mother. Better than you could imagine.”
It did. Allowing her powers free from the tangle in her mind gave her the freedom to do anything, to be anyone. She wanted—
Closing her hand into a fist, she willed the flames away, the glass ball clutched in her palm. “I know you want the Orb. The freedom of my people is the only way you’ll get it.”
A wall of black flames sprang up, separating her from Cody and the LexTals in less than a heartbeat.
“Daughtry!” Cody shouted.
“Stay back!” she yelled.
Elisabeth stepped forward and Daughtry withdrew the weapon Morgan had given her. It was the standard-issue knife of the LexTals, but it might as well have been a sword for how big it seemed in her hand.
When Elisabeth saw the blade, she smiled. “You might have potential yet,” she said. “Let’s see if you can keep that backbone of yours. Give me the Orb.”
“Fuck you.”
Daughtry dropped to her knees and opened her hand. The glass sphere rolled then settled on top of one of the logs that Francis used for his students.
Everything happened in slow motion.
She raised the knife . . . but not the blade.
Instead, it was the heavy hilt that arced down to collide with the globe.
The crunching sound of metal against glass filled the air.
Shards exploded around her, little needles of pain cutting into Daughtry’s fingers and palm.
Elisabeth’s shriek was worse.
It filled the clearing, threatened to burst Daughtry’s eardrums.
The black flames rose in height, growing with Elisabeth’s anger. A second later they disappeared.
“Kill them,” Elisabeth shouted. “Kill every fucking one of them.”
The Dalshie surged forward, a wave of black and red that streaked past Daughtry and headed for the people she loved.
But she couldn’t worry about them.
Because Elisabeth was coming for her.
“You’re dead,” her mother said.
A net of black flames surrounded Daughtry before she could get to her feet.
They were hot. Something Daughtry hadn’t expected because the darkness always seemed so cold. The tangle of barbed black strands pinning her in place burned her, scalding her neck, her chest—
“Do you realize what you’ve destroyed?” Elisabeth hissed, crouching in front of Daughtry, her red eyes maniacal. “The Orb was priceless.”
“It was useless.”
“Useless? The Orb had the power to turn every Rengalla into Dalshie,” Elisabeth yelled. “Stupid girl, you stole my army. Took my future.”
“So what?” Daughtry said. She was sweating, a stifling wave of heat sitting on her chest. She had to move, to do something. Her shield from the bond had calibrated so the flames weren’t actively burning her—not any longer—but the magic so close to her still hurt like hell. “Now you’re going to kill me?” Daughtry added when Elisabeth’s gaze narrowed. “I’ve heard that threat before, mother, and I think it’s as baseless now as it was then.”
The black threads disappeared from around her.
Daughtry risked a look around, the sounds of the battle louder than speakers on full blast in her ears. She couldn’t see a thing, just a mass of writhing bodies, puffs of ash as the Rengalla managed to pick off some of the Dalshie.
The sun was setting, gilding the fighters in golden light. It was bizarre, it was beautiful and—
She needed to focus.
Her eyes whipped back to Elisabeth who smiled, a cruel upturn of lips. “I’m going to kill every person you’ve ever cared about,” her mother told her.
“No,” Daughtry said. “You won’t.” She glanced over Elisabeth’s shoulder. “Now!”
A shot rang out from behind Elisabeth. It collided with her mother’s shoulder with a thunk and a small spray of blood.
Elisabeth laughed. “That’s all you’ve got?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got more.”
Violet flames erupted from her body, zero to full throttle in the blink of an eye. Cody’s emerald fire rose up to meet hers, to intertwine with hers.
Bond Magic.
It moved, relentless and powerful as a tsunami, tearing through the Dalshie in the clearing, little bursts of ash filling the air like some gruesome version of popcorn.
Her eyes followed the path, saw how the combined powers annihilated their enemy effortlessly. And yet it left everything aside from the Dalshie completely intact. Instead of scorching the earth and trees, instead of burning everything in its path, the Bond Magic only destroyed the darkness.
And through it all, despite the massive amount of magic pouring through her, both hers and Cody’s mixed on practically a cellular level, she was in control. Not the magic. Daughtry owned her powers.
The darkness had abated.
From the moment she’d accepted the nature of her magic, had refused to allow the darkness to destroy the people who’d loved her it had been that way. Cody’s powers may have been fixed when the bond formed but she’d been cured.
Or at least been given the key to salvation.
The darkness would never be completely gone—Daughtry understood there could be no light without dark. But what she knew down to the very marrow of her bones was that the path to light was paved with love not hate, with retribution not vengeance, with acceptance of the circumstances she couldn’t change instead of screwing with futures that must come to pass.
Light without dark was meaningless.
They needed both halves to recognize good from evil.
Daughtry saw what was going to happen before Elisabeth had fully decided to act.
Morgan, injured, weak, bloody and too goddamned slow was only a few feet behind them.
Elisabeth turned. Extended her hands.
“
No.” Daughtry grabbed her arm. It was slippery, coated with a shield of dark magic. Heat surged through her, beginning in Daughtry’s mind and radiating outward. It felt as though her flesh should be on fire.
She glanced down and saw her father’s necklace glowing bright red.
“It can’t be,” Elisabeth gasped.
Her mother struggled but Daughtry refused to let her go.
Fingers tightened, almost cramping as she prevented Elisabeth from pulling away.
The dark magic crackled around Elisabeth’s palms, wove up her arms, covered her in a thick blanket of ebony.
If Daughtry released her then her mother would turn those strands on Morgan.
“How—?” One of Elisabeth’s hands reached toward the necklace around Daughtry’s throat. It heated further, actually burning through the cotton of her shirt even as it left her skin unharmed.
Flames burst out along Daughtry’s body, intensely hot but not burning. They coated her, coloring her skin in blazing feathers of violet and emerald.
“Impossible,” Elisabeth said, the tangled vines of barbed, black magic rising higher.
“Nothing is impossible.”
The resistance below her hands disappeared.
Confusion swarmed Daughtry as her fingers passed through the magic that encased Elisabeth, through the barrier of dark magic that protected her.
“No. Please. No,” Elisabeth cried.
Daughtry didn’t understand what was happening, just held on tight even as a small part of her screamed at her to let go.
She didn’t. She couldn’t.
Because of Morgan. Because of the risk to her family. To Cody.
And because what her eyes were seeing was impossible.
By the time her brain finally caught up with the sight and she unlocked her fingers, it was too late.
Instead of meeting the solidness of Elisabeth’s shoulders, Daughtry’s hands passed right through, a hot knife cutting through warm butter.
Emotions coursed through her.
Remorse. Regret. Relief. Horror.
But she couldn’t fight gravity, couldn’t stop the downward motion of her arms.
Ash exploded, filling the air.
The smell of burning cloth and flesh clogged her nose.