“Now to take care of this little wrinkle in time.” Jardin turns her attention to Glamma’s spell-web.
“Ugh,” Rouen groans. “A librarian joke, really?”
Her sapphire-blue eyes fix on mine, and my heart leaps. Love for her swells my chest. Suddenly, I can’t breathe. It’s always been intense between us—every look, every touch bringing us closer together, the simple things, the complicated things.
I love everything about her. I have from the moment we met.
We were meant to be together.
The way Faerie was meant to be whole again.
Eighteen…
I’ve been shying away from the soul-bond, afraid to see her in “Dark-Rouen” mode. Now, I realize how stupid I’ve been. How my girl’s been hiding who she is because she’s been afraid of scaring me, hurting me.
All this time, she’s been fighting her true dark Fae nature. Hurting herself. For me.
No more.
Nineteen…
In these last seconds before our total annihilation, I pour my heart and soul out to her. “Rouen, I’ve been a huge jerk. I’ve only thought about myself, and I didn’t see what you were going through.” My throat closes, the words coming thick. “I’m sorry. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
And with that, I open to our soul-bond fully and without reservation to Roue, to all of her.
Including Dark-Rouen.
“I love you, Roue. All of you. And your dark side too,” I send down the bond.
For a breath, nothing happens.
Then fwooosh! In a spiraling wave, our soul-bond opens back up between us, filling me with her emotions and her with mine. I feel all her pain and regret, and I share all my doubts and loneliness. These past months have been the hardest in my life without her.
Because without her, I have no life. She’s my everything.
I send her all my love, along with a quick sketch of my plan. The last plan I’ll ever make, probably. “I could never hurt you, Rouen Rivoche.”
I blow her a kiss. All the kisses I’ve wanted to give her these past few weeks.
She sees what I mean to do, and her fear rockets down our bond. “Syl!”
“I won’t hurt you.”
Twenty.
The bain sidhe whirls us around, commanding our power to attack.
I enact my desperate plan. With all my strength, I pull my power inward. Instantly, Summer heat and fire scorches through my body. I’ve done this before, and it was no picnic then, either. In a fire’s flash, I’m a burning inferno encased in skin. Sweat pours down my brow, the bain sidhe shrieking in rage, Jardin screaming, “Shoot her, Rouen! Shoot her now!”
But Rouen doesn’t shoot me.
Instead, she pulls back on her lightning, and it lashes into her, zapping and popping. Her hair stands on end. Summer heat blasts back at me. So hot the ends of my hair singe into embers. Each of us stands in the middle of our backlashing power, strung with pain and fire.
I grit my teeth, watching Rouen grit her fangs.
Her pain blazes down the bond. Where we've kept it partway shut these past weeks, now we lever it open even wider.
All of Rouen’s strength, stubbornness, and tenacity rushes into me, just as all my optimism, mirth, and effervescence rockets into her. Bolstering our strengths, covering each other’s weaknesses. Determination surges into me.
Jardin can control our bodies, but she can’t control our feelings.
I laugh, shuddering as the torrid heat ravages my body in wave after wave until finally, I fall. Smoke rises from my skin. Next to me, Rouen collapses in a shower of sparks, vicious licks of electricity racing along the floor.
“Syl…” She stretches, reaching for my hand. Our fingers touch, sparking Winter and Summer power.
We’re dying, the hearthstones are dying, but at least we haven’t restarted the war.
I call that a victory.
With the last of my strength, I defy Jardin, the bain sidhe, the Faerie war. “You’ll never turn us against each other!”
It’s a small comfort, here, at the end of the world. But I’ll take it.
Jardin snarls through sharp teeth. “So be it. Then, you can die together.” She turns the hearthstones on us—Dark Faerie energy lashing into me with brutal, biting cold; Fair Faerie power hitting Roue with scorching fire. Combined with our own internalized power, the pain is too much.
My vision greys. I squeeze Rouen’s hand tight.
Is this the end for us?
26
ROUEN
Never give up
On us
I’ll never, never
Never
-”Ever,” Euphoria
Lying wounded on FrankenFaerie’s cracked floor, our realms shuddering to ruin all around us as we enact a desperate plan of killing ourselves so we don’t kill each other, all while Jardin holds our elders captive and unleashes our hearthstones upon us, I allow myself a moment of melodrama.
After all, I am a Queen of Faerie.
What a pair of idiots we are. What an idiot I am! I could’ve had everything—my kingdom, peace, my girl. But I had to go and screw it up.
Because of Jardin’s stupid spell.
Because of stupid me. And my stupid dark side.
No. Syl sends. Your dark side is a part of you, and I’m not afraid of it. I accept you. All of you.
Her acceptance washes over me, sending warm tingles across my skin. It takes away my pain. Even though violet lightning blasts my insides, racing through me with hurricane force, tearing through organs, veins, skin, muscle, bone.
My girl loves me and accepts me. Truly.
And our soul-bond is back, connecting us, making us one. The way it should be.
I can die, whole, hand in hand with the woman I love.
As the bain sidhe controls our every move, Jardin shifts her focus back to making Dark Faerie and Fair Faerie battle to the end, the fused throne room shuddering and jerking, Winter beating back Summer.
Regret tinges through my sending. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“Don’t be.” Smiling up at me, she caresses my cheek. “We knew the risks when we fell in love.”
“We did, princess.” I lean down to kiss her, my lips barely brushing her—
“Rouen? Rouen! Syl!”
A figure steps from the shadows toward Jardin. “I don’t know what you did to them, Lady Gaga, but you’re about to have a really bad day.”
My heart leaps. “Pru!”
It’s Pru, all right. Standing there, hands on her wide hips in a power pose as she faces down our homicidal púca captor. On land, she’s got legs instead of a tail, but her entire body shimmers with blue-green scales, wicked-looking barbs curving from her elbows and shins, swooping up into her thick torso, broad shoulders, powerful arms, everything hard and glittering as gemstone.
She’s a full-blown Yara in all her dark glory.
Jardin snarls, whirling Pru’s way with the Dark Faerie hearthstone.
But Pru didn’t come alone. “Sic ‘em!”
“Hang on, Syl! Hang on, Rouen!” Kshirin’s high-pitched voice rings out, and the throne room explodes with water funnels, glowing claws, and shouted curses as the dark Fae kids leap to the rescue. A whirlwind of orange fur and teeny tiger roars, Kshirin slashes at Jardin, her venomous claws blazing green as she keeps the púca off-balance, too busy to use the hearthstones.
Einslie momentarily distracts the bain sidhe with her hypno-gaze. “Now, Miz!”
“On it!” The little water drake throws her water funnels around Jardin. Marrow turns them solid with his curse-touch.
They slam in around Miss Jardin, walling her off from us.
“To the queens!” yells Einslie, directing them like the little general she is. “Go! Go! Go!”
Fwoosh! Marrow’s suddenly at my side. “I gotchu!” Using his hag strength, he lifts me up one-handed and sets me on my feet. Kshirin helps Syl up. Miz leaps onto Pru’s shoulder, curling her tail around Pru’s bicep, and re
doubles her water funnels.
I could kiss these kids.
I can’t move, what with the bain sidhe sawing away on Wasteland, but first things first.
“We need to free the archs,” I command, eying my and Syl’s elders. Man, is Etana going to be pissed when she gets free. I can already hear the I-told-you-so’s. “Get to Jardin, and get the hearthsto—”
Hsshhhhhhh! A red glow burns across Marrow and Miz’s water wall, and crack! It breaks apart in a flying rain shower. Jardin stands there, soaked, red eyes burning with hellfire behind her glasses. She’s still glowing with Marrow’s curse-touch. “You’ll pay for that,” she snarls.
“Oh yeah?” I taunt her, fighting for every inch of control against the heartstrings. “Just try collecting, lady.”
She thrusts the burning Fair Faerie hearthstone my way.
Me and my big mouth.
As if on cue, Pru rears back and opens her mouth wide, wider…so wide her bottom jaw unhinges, daggerlike teeth erupting as it stretches so far I think she’s going to swallow the entire throne room. Or what’s left of it.
Chomp! She snaps at Jardin, slicing off half the throne. It falls in pieces to the rumbling floor as the púca scrambles away.
“Oh no!” Syl gasps.
“No worries, princess. We should replace it anyway. It’s got bain sidhe cooties on it.”
I mean, if we survive.
Speaking of… the bain sidhe lurches our way, bow screaming on the strings. We’re sitting ducks.
“Pru…the violin!” Syl chokes out.
“Got it!” Pru whips around, fast as quicksilver, her snapping jaws driving Jardin back as Einslie rallies the dark Fae kids at the bain sidhe. Scrambling, she opens her mouth to scream, but slam! Pru lashes out with her powerful fists, whacking the bain sidhe dead-center. I cringe as she hits the broken throne hard, the bow flying from her hand.
Ooh, that’s gotta hurt.
Windwarping in, Pru attacks, powerful fists and fins slamming the bain sidhe into the throne again and again until she slides down, dazed. Finally, Pru stands over her, flushed with righteous anger. “No one messes with my family.”
The kids swarm the bain sidhe like so many ants on a picnic.
Poing! Yoink! Tink! Wasteland makes pitiful noises as the kids gleefully wreck it. A pang hits my heart at losing my mother’s violin—not to mention watching her get beat up by a bunch of kids—but dark Fae are tough. She’ll have a hell of a headache when she wakes up. But she won’t die. Thankfully.
As for the heartstrings…
Boom! Boom! Boom, boom!
The black strings explode, throwing the bain sidhe back. Crack! The wall finally breaks, and she vanishes into the hole. I have a second to hope that she just stays down.
Then, my heartstrings bore through my chest like twin needles of fire.
My breath goes out, punches back in. I choke and struggle. Next to me, Syl gasps so hard I think she’ll break her back. Then, the pain recedes, and a sudden rush of energy, of life, rushes back into me.
My heart pounds in my ears. I hear Syl’s, too, racing with mine.
Together, we rise up even as Jardin tries to punish us with the hearthstones. “I don’t know about you…” I raise my hand, crackling with lightning. It feels good to have my power back, my control back. “But I’ve had enough of this lady.”
Syl raises her hand, blazing with fire. “Hell yeah.”
Together, we blast Jardin.
Vada-blamm! Our combined energy slams her in the chest, knocking her ass over teakettle. As the dark Fae kids cheer, she crashes to the floor in a heap of red hair and smoking power suit. Her glasses break.
The hearthstones fly from her hands.
Syl fist-bumps me. “Yes!”
“Noooo!” The wily púca shrieks like a burned cat as the sources of Faerie tink, tink, tink away from her.
She jerks toward them, but Pru snatches her up in her massive jaws, holding her still. Snarling, Jardin turns and twists, but she can’t break free. Then her eyes roll up in her head. The stink of roses and habaneros hits the air. Blackness like living shadow pools up from her pores, covering her in an inky slick, then hardening into glossy armored…scales?
“Pru, watch out!” I cry. “She’s shifting!”
But into what?
Panic surges up inside me. Einslie leaps to my shoulder, her small green-clad form trembling. She tugs my sleeve. “Queen Rouen…”
“It’ll be all right.” I put my arm around her protectively. But will it? Too late, I remember the dark Fae kids saying something about púca having three forms: mortal, magical, and mythical. We’ve seen Jardin’s mortal and magical forms.
We’re about to meet her mythical.
Syl’s voice brings me back to reality. “Roue, the hearthstones!”
“Right!”
All of us coil to pounce on them, the dark Fae kids too, but before anyone can move—
Zzzzip! Zppp…ppp… Glamma’s spell-web stutters, spits, then shreds into blue wisps and fragile wings.
Half-healed, the Shroud all around us rips apart at the Bleeds.
Tatters of its dark fabric snap in the sweltering heat and frigid snow. The castle walls shatter to dust, the roof breaking apart. Syl and I blast it to bits before it can crush us and our enspelled elders. Cracked open like an egg, the FrankenFaerie castle lies exposed to the warring elements. Shadows fall from high above as all the swirling dimensions, galaxies, star systems, and planets of the multiverse tear free of their moorings and crash down on us.
Dozens, hundreds of them, yanking toward Faerie, the linchpin connecting them all.
A collision we won’t survive.
This is it. The utter destruction of all of Faerie.
I look at Syl. “I guess it can’t get any worse?”
“Syl, Roue, I can’t hold h—” Pru gasps.
Jardin breaks free, her transformation warping her body as dark coils loop over and over, wrapping her in thick, armored skin, bulking her up. She grows twice her size, then three times…four. Armored scales ripple over a long serpentine body, encasing her four limbs, head, neck, and barbed tail. Massive claws dig into snowy, sun-burnt ground, and she rears up to her full height, taller than the Empire State Building.
She opens a wedge-shaped snout the size of a double-decker bus. Blasts of hellfire superheat the air.
A dragon. Our librarian is a dragon.
“Uh-oh,” Einslie blurts out, tiny mouth open in an O.
“Great,” I deadpan. “Because fighting Dragon Miss Jardin was on my list of things to do during the Faerie Apocalypse.”
For once, Syl doesn’t laugh at my joke. Her grey eyes fix on the skies above, where a massive black swirl begins slowly rotating, picking up speed like a cyclone, sweeping a dozen celestial bodies into its maw. The whole thing swells even bigger, revolves faster, moving closer and closer to us. “It’s worse worse.”
A shiver of dread courses through me as I watch. “What is that?”
“Some kind of magical black hole.” Her grey gaze flicks to me. “And it’s coming right toward us.”
Wide-eyed and terrified, the kids crowd in at our legs. Kshirin’s glowing tiger eyes meet mine. “We’ll be okay, won’t we, Queen Rouen?”
“Sure we will, kiddo.” But we’re trapped between being eaten by a dragon or swallowed by a black hole. That’s assuming Faerie doesn’t shatter apart beneath us, pitching us out into the fragmented space between colliding dimensions.
This might too much for even Syl and me, with all our queenly power, to handle
27
SYL
Do not mess with dragons
For you are crunchy and a good side dish to corned beef
- Glamma’s Grimm
Okay, time to recap. Pros: We’ve defeated the bain sidhe and gotten our heartstrings back, the soul-bond’s back too, and Roue and I are as strong as ever. Cons: the arch-Eld and -Ýdyll are stuck in stasis, Miss Jardin’s turned into a dragon the s
ize of the Taj Mahal, the Shroud tore, and now the dimensional multiverse hangs in a skewed orbit over Faerie—galaxies and planetary systems, suns, moons, nebulae, and stars. All drawn to the linchpin that is Faerie, like bombs waiting to smash into its surface.
Worse, it spit out a magical black hole that’s spinning toward us.
I know what you’re thinking. There are more cons than pros.
Also, black holes don’t really wander around, sucking things in.
That’s true, except for two things. One: what this black hole is sucking in does not bode well for us. When the Shroud tore, it released a heckuva lot of ambient Faerie energy. Now the black hole hoovers it up like a glutton.
Which brings me to two: Faerie power is unpredictable.
Already, the Faerie energies transform the black hole, swelling it bigger and bigger as it swallows up whatever’s in its path.
Roue’s hand tightens in mine. We have no way to stop it.
But that’s not our most urgent problem.
Because Dragon Miss Jardin rears up before us, two thousand pounds of super-mad lizard. Her eyes blaze with hellfire, and brimstone curls from her nostrils. Her chuckle rocks all of Faerie. “Well, well, Miss Skye, how do you like my mythical form?”
“Is this a trick question?” I back up, trying to figure out a way out of this. Meanwhile, I wave Pru and the kids off. If there’s any chance of getting to higher ground, a safe distance—whatever—I want her and the kids to take it.
Rouen and I both breathe a sigh of relief when they scurry over to where the arch-Eld are held captive.
I try not to think about them or the black hole spiraling our way. “Roue, we’ve got to make a pla—”
Flames jet from Jardin’s nostrils, practically singeing my eyebrows. “I see the gears in your head turning.” She paces around us, her serpentine body shifting and undulating with coiled violence. “You’re trying to come up with a plan right now.” Every footfall booms through the ground. “But you can’t defeat me. My skin is armor, my teeth swords—”
“Bloody bones, are you seriously quoting The Hobbit right now?” Rouen growls. “We get it. You’re unstoppa— Wait, Syl!”
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