by Angel Lawson
“Tell her,” Morgan says. She certainly isn’t afraid of the Commander, not anymore. The soldier stands before the queen.
“I love you, Anand. I have since the days before, when this land and the people on it flourished.”
Her expression is one of confusion. “You love my power.”
“No.” He laughs bitterly. “If I could I would banish The Darkness to other realms. Back to the underworld where it came from.”
There’s an identical look of surprise on Morgan and the Queen’s face when the commander steps to Anand and touches her cheek. Something flickers in her eyes and for once it’s not anger.
Slowly, I move to the platform and my brothers do the same.
It’s time to take Morgan home.
37
Morgan
We’re close. So close, but I know my job isn’t done. Casteel may have asked me to spare her life but I owe a debt to Nevis and her people. Not only did she save and support me, but the underground dwellers came up and fought with my men. They built an army. And it’s time they shared a spot in this kingdom.
There is only one way to do this. And I look down at Anita’s dead body thinking of how this started. One vessel to another. Sharing. Spreading. Sacrificing.
I sense Dylan behind me. Damien is close. Sam and Clinton right behind. I don’t just feel them—they boost me—fill me. I want nothing more than to get home and spend time with each one of them. Alone. Together. A whole life filled with peace and love. A family. Babies.
But that will never happen if I leave things as they are. And the choice I must make is a long shot. The Shaman knew it when he gave me passage. The odds of me coming home alone are slim.
I snatch a moment and turn to face my mates. There’s no time for words but I connect with each, staring into their eyes. Blue, green, gray, and purple. As usual I’m missing one but I have no doubt he’s working to get us out of here.
“Whatever you’re thinking—don’t,” Dylan says. I smile and walk away. There’s a skirmish behind me and it only takes a glance to see my guardians restrained by the men they brought with them. The Ravens fight back, but these men…they’re strong and they were sent here for a purpose. Emotion isn’t part of their job.
“Love you, girl,” Hildi says, pushing through the commotion. There’s no doubt she gave the order to this group of soldiers. She may be just the kind of woman they need to tell them what to do.
“You, too.”
I walk across the platform to Casteel and the Morrigan. They’re lost in their own world. I extract my sword and press it into Casteel’s spine. He looks down in confusion.
“You asked me to fix this so I am.”
I expect him to fight but to my surprise, he doesn’t. Everyone knows, including the Queen. I stand face-to-face and say, “Thank you for revealing my true powers. I couldn’t have done it without coming here, having my feet on this land and being in your presence.”
“You’re not stronger than me.”
I glance at my Guardians, my friends and the people filling the ground, some of their faces feeling the moonlight for the first time in ages.
“Oh but I am. I am so. Much. Stronger.”
I push up on my toes, because my sister is taller than me. I don’t know what she expects but it’s not this—not a kiss, and when our mouths touch it’s like a bomb goes off. Good versus evil. Light against dark. Two queens battling for control.
The difference is, she’s alone. Her soldiers are dead. Her commander had dropped his weapon. And the light comes shining through. I feel the relenting on her lips. In the taste of her tongue. The Darkness is foul and it fills me, angry and bitter. We’re nothing but vessels and this one is up for sacrifice. Pain fills my limbs, my fingertips and toes. Poison attacks my organs, stabbing away at the muscle of my heart.
There’s one final moment, right after the Darkness consumes me, when I’m filled with centuries of hate and pain and destruction, that I see the true face of Anand. Her eyes are bright—and green. Her cheeks are rosy. Her hand slips into Casteel’s and she kisses me on the forehead.
“Thank you, Morgan,” she says, realizing what I have done.
I’ve freed her and the people of the Otherside. I fall forward but I’m caught by many hands. As they lay me on the ground I look to the sky and see one last thing.
The sun.
38
Bunny
I hear the pounding of footsteps as I blow on the painting. The magic is weaker when wet, but there’s no choice. Casteel wants the gate closed but we’ve got to be on the other side before that can happen.
A wave of Darkness hits me in the gut moments before the sounds in the hall. Morgan. She’s hurt. Or injured—or worse. I clench the rolled-up mural in my hands. The final scene of a rising sun. A goddess in white on the ground.
There’s no mistaking the imagery.
“Bunny!” My name is a desperate shout. I run to the door and down the hall. I meet the frantic faces of my brothers. I look for kingdom soldiers chasing them. No one follows but their allies.
Who I don’t see is Morgan, and I scan the group. My eyes finally settle on Clinton, who’s carrying her in his arms. Her face is pale. Black stains her chin. The hollow in my stomach grows.
“Tell me you’re ready,” Dylan says. “Because we’ve got to get the hell out of here and lock the door behind us.”
“I’m ready,” I tell them and jog up the stairs to my studio. I lead them to the window looking out over the kingdom. The sky has parted blue and the land as far as the eye can see comes to life. I glance back at Morgan and realize that it is because she’s carrying the Darkness and it’s killing her.
I’ve already drawn the symbols around the window, the ones that will allow us to pass and then seal the gate behind us. Casteel made that clear. Do not return and do not give her a chance to get out.
“Once I activate the gate we’ll only have a few moments. Go first,” I tell Clinton. “Get her back.”
What we’ll do with her is beyond me. I pray the gods will have an answer.
Clinton doesn’t hesitate. He carries Morgan like she’s light as a feather. He steps to the edge and the outside world vanishes—instead, he’s looking into the dining room of The Nead. He steps through and they both vanish.
Dylan hurries the others through. Hildi and the six warriors I do not know. Sam and Damien, each giving me a look that contains less hate than I imagined. Once Damien crosses over, the edges of the window turn fuzzy and the kingdom comes back into view.
“Go,” I say to Dylan.
He steps to the edge and puts his feet in first. I watch as the gate closes on itself, bricking up like the window never existed.
“Bunny.” He stares at me, his eyes imploring. I shrug. If this is my penance, I’ll take it.
There’s a beat, a moment, and the bricks build one by one closing one realm to the other. Dylan reaches out his hand and grabs me by the collar—yanking me through.
39
Morgan
I’m drowning in a lake made of black oil. The surface is on fire. Liquid clogs my throat. I gasp for air, for the edge, but there’s nothing there but Darkness. Dank, foul, darkness.
I fall…slipping into nothing until my feet touch solid ground. I blink, thinking my eyes are closed but no, just black. So much black. I open my mouth and scream. This time it works. I hear my voice. The sound of my fear. What happened to my Guardians? The castle and the Morrigan?
I still taste her and the filth I consumed in my mouth.
Taking a step I move across the void, my feet echoing in the nothingness. I knew it was a risk—a sacrifice I was willing to make. But this? This is what her soul looks like?
I scream again. “Hello!”
My voice mocks me in return. I hold my hands to my ears and scream. Scream for the loss of my mates. The loss of my realm. Scream for wanting it back—the feeling—the love.
Hands grip my arms and pull them away from my ears. White
teeth shine in the dark. Long braided hair hangs over a broad shoulder. “Why are you screaming, child?” the Shaman asks.
“Did you bring me here? Drag me to this place?”
“You consumed the poison. That was not my doing.”
“How do I get out of here?”
“I don’t know.” He clasps his hands together. I count three rings on each hand.
“I took the darkness and gave her my light.”
He frowns. “That doesn’t sound right.”
Wings flap overhead. I look up and spot five ravens, all flying in a row. One carries a charm in his beak. My mind breaks and I grip it with my hands.
“Dig deep,” the Shaman says. “You can’t give away what isn’t yours.”
I feel in my belly. I reach in my heart. I feel a pebble—round and perfect. I pull it out and see it is a shiny pearl—white and bold. I hold it to the sky. A raven, the biggest of them all, swoops down and takes it in his beak and flies away. The pearl leaves a trail, glossy like a satin ribbon, and I glance at the Shaman. “Follow it, child. That’s your way home.”
I pick up my feet, sticky from the black goo, and chase after the raven.
“Morgan.”
“How much longer?”
“How the fuck should I know?”
“Shut up. She’s moving.”
“I can’t handle this.”
“I can’t handle your mouth.”
“Seriously, is this what you want her to wake up to? The five of you acting like assholes?”
The final voice cuts through my mind like a knife.
“Hildi?” I rasp. My voice feels like sandpaper mixed with tar.
“Babe.” It’s her voice but I feel five other sets of hands. Strong, capable hands. Familiar hands. I blink and spot my guardians. Hildi elbows Dylan out of the way and brings a glass of water to my lips. The liquid is cool and I gulp it down faster than I should. She wipes my chin and says. “Nevis sent it to help you heal.”
The wicked feeling in my throat vanishes, soothed by the water. It settles in my belly and I feel the magic working. I look at Hildi and the first thing I think of to say is, “I’m so sorry about Andi.”
“You tried.” She brushes back my hair. “You should have killed her.”
“Death would have been too good for her. This way, she has to live with the consequences and redeem herself to the people in her kingdom.” I search for a pair of copper eyes. I find them near my feet. “Redemption is good.”
I wiggle to a sitting position, feeling almost back to normal. I’m on the bed in my room. I look around at my things, my books and journals. The trinkets I’ve collected during my time in New York. It truly feels like home.
Again I focus on Bunny. “Did you close the gate?”
“Yes.”
“And the Darkness? I know I carried it with me.”
Dylan takes my hand. “The Shaman was waiting for us when we came through. He cured you.”
“What was the cost?”
“He took the Darkness with him,” Damien says. “Locked up tight. I made the box myself.”
That news doesn’t sit well with me and from a glance around the bed, not with anyone else either. Clinton stands, arms crossed, to my left.
“We didn’t have a choice,” Sam says. He leans over and I brush his hair out of his eyes. Gods, I’ve missed him. All of them.
“Okay, it’s time to give Morgan a little rest, everyone out.” The directive comes from Sue and I smile thankfully at her. I love my men. I adore my mates, but choking down an unhealthy dose of evil wore me out.
Everyone leaves, but I grab Dylan’s hand before he leaves the room.
“Hey,” I say quietly. “Do me a favor.”
He touches my hair and runs his fingers down my cheek. “Anything.”
I nod at Bunny, who is leaving the room. “Be nice to him. Things got complicated.”
He smirks. “He’s one of us. Don’t worry.”
“That’s exactly why I am worried. It’s not like you guys are easy on one another.”
He leans down and kisses me on the forehead. “You got it, Your Highness.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He nods and heads for the door, but the glint in his eyes says this is just the beginning.
Of so many amazing things.
40
Morgan
Recovery comes slow. Not just for my body but for my mind. For the harem and the new people that have entered our group. There’s a different feel to the house, with it being so crowded, but it’s also nice having people around that understand what you’ve been through—people who willingly fought by your side.
Hildi still occupies the guest room—not wanting to go back to the apartment she shared with Andi. I like having her here, having another woman in the house. My ravens are amazing, but a friend who is just a friend with zero complications? It’s a gift.
The men—the fighters that joined our army—they’ve camped out in the basement, near the training room. Davis and Sue created bedrooms down there. They keep to themselves for the most part but I’ve seen them come and go from Dylan’s room. Negotiations are in progress. They aren’t slaves, Dylan told me. But they are caught in a bit of transition. Where do they go from here? And how does he make sure they’ve adjusted to modern ways?
I’ve taken to writing again. About the Otherside and the Morrigan. I’ve shown some of my work to Professor Christensen, who thinks it should be documented. Maybe. I just like feeling the normalcy of pen on paper again.
There’s a knock on my door, firm and quick. I lay my journal on the window seat and cross the room. I open the door and find Damien on the other side, leaning one arm against the frame. He’s wearing low-slung black jeans and a long-sleeved gray shirt. A thin strip of his lower belly peeks out. My eyes linger on the scattering of hair that travels below.
When I look at his face, my heart pitter-patters. His eyebrow is raised.
“Hey,” I say, happy to see him. His smile in return confirms he’s been looking forward to our meetup as well.
I spot a fresh tattoo on his arm depicting the fight with the Morrigan. I reach for his arm and run my fingers down the ink. The heat and electricity between us crackles.
Yeah, there’s that.
In the dark place, when I was consumed by the Morrigan’s waste, the Shaman tried to tell me something. The pearl. That is the light inside of me. It wasn’t gone—just overwhelmed by the Darkness. I didn’t lose that. I carry it with me—the tiny piece of the goddess that lives inside. That piece. It burns with hope. With love.
I hold Damien’s violet eye.
And a little bit of lust.
I still need these men to balance me. They’re my mates.
He holds up his hand and shows me a sleek black helmet. “Want to go for a ride?”
“I’d love to.”
I grab my boots and slide them over my jeans. Damien comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. His lips find my throat and he showers me with warm kisses.
He spins me around and pushes my hair out of my eyes. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Thank you,” I say, kissing him on the mouth. “I’m glad you came back for me.”
He smirks. “There was never a chance of that not happening, babe.”
“Need me too much?” I ask.
He pulls my hips to his and I feel his hard length. “You have no fucking idea.”
It’s my turn to give a wicked smile. I fist his shirt and say, “Take me on a ride and bring me back and show me.”
“Deal.”
My knees buckle just having him near me, but I gain composure and lead the way to the garage. There’s one thing I’ve learned about Damien. If I hold off a little bit longer, cruise through the city with my arms tight around his body and bide my time, I’ll be rewarded with the ride of a lifetime.
“I told them to be nice to you.”
I dip my fingers into the salve and gentl
y touch the bruise on Bunny’s cheekbone. He flinches but steadies himself and allows me to rub on the cream.
“You didn’t need to do that,” he says, wincing in pain. He’s on the bed, head pressed into pillows. “It’s sort of…um, a ritual.”
The Ravens beat the shit out of Bunny.
Betrayal comes with a price, even if it’s for a reason.
“It’s not the first time one of us has had to run the gauntlet.” He holds his ribs when he says it. “Dylan had to run it once. Clinton twice.”
I stare at him for a minute, not really wanting to know more than I already do about the archaic punishment system that involves sticks. A little of my concern fades when his lips twitch into a slight smile. He and his brothers are right again and that’s all that matters.
“No more secrets, okay?” I tell him. Everything we went through on the Otherside together brought us closer. We had to learn to trust one another.
“Yeah. I learned my lesson on that one.” He reaches out and grazes my cheek. “Never underestimate what you can handle.”
I take his hand and kiss his knuckles. “Same.”
I continue checking his wounds. The bruises on his ribs are dark purple. The one on his back looks painful and red. I sigh and drop his shirt. “You know, I haven’t tested my healing powers on anyone since we returned home.”
His quirked eyebrow peeks out over the frame of his glasses. “Interesting.”
“I mean, obviously I would have to be gentle.”
He nods. “I can do gentle. I mean, you know, if you’re up to it.”
I don’t tell him that I’ve been looking for a chance to be close to him again. On our own terms, without danger and obligation over our heads. I knew the opportunity would come for us—there’s been no rush.
“Let’s see if my mojo still works,” I say, genuinely curious.
I take my time peeling off his shirt. His body is still magnificent, regardless of the beating. I strip him completely, removing his pants and boxers. He’s not too injured that his body isn’t reacting and I’m pleased to see his reaction to me, despite the pain.