Burned

by P. C. Cast

  Her words settled over Stark like a mesh of steel. “What do you mean, Kalona and me?”

  “You went with me to Venice, and you knew the real truth of how much of a monster Kalona is before I did. Fire brought you here. The rest probably means something to you if you think about it enough.”

  “A double-edged sword . . .” Stark spoke the words softly. The claymore was double-edged. And he’d destroyed as well as released with it. He did know the truth about Kalona being dangerous when he followed him with Zoey to Venice . . . the fire of pain from Seoras’s cuts had brought him to here, a place that reminded him of earth, even though it was in the Otherworld. And Zoey was trapped here, needing to be released. And now he had to follow what his spirit knew about honor to bring this whole thing to an end. “Oh, shit!” He looked at Zoey, ever-moving beside him, and the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “You’re right. The poem is for me.”

  “Good, then it shows you how to be free,” Zoey said.

  “No, Z. It shows me how to make both of us free,” he said. “Kalona and me.”

  Her troubled, restless eyes lit on his face before looking hastily away. “Free Kalona? I don’t understand.”

  “I do,” he said grimly, remembering the killing blow that had freed the Other. “There are a lot of different ways to be free.” He tugged on her hand, making her slow down and look at him. “And I do believe in you, Zoey. Even shattered, you still hold my Oath. I will protect you, and as long as I remember honor and don’t ever let you down again, I think anything is possible. That’s what being your Guardian’s all about: honor.”

  He lifted her hand and kissed it again before he began walking. He didn’t let her circular pacing control him. This time Stark led her in a straight line directly for the edge of the grove.

  “No. No. We can’t go over there,” Zoey said,

  “Over there is where we have to go, Z. It’ll be okay. I trust you.” Stark kept walking toward the widening bright spots between the green that marked the grove’s edge.

  “Trust me? No. It doesn’t have anything to do with trust. Stark, we can’t leave this place. Ever. There are bad things out there. He’s out there.” Zoey was pulling at his hand hard, trying to get him to change direction.

  “Zoey, I’m gonna say some things to you really fast, and I know your concentration is messed up right now, but you gotta hear me.” Stark was almost dragging Zoey with him, but he kept relentlessly moving them ahead, to the boundary of the grove. “I’m not just your Warrior anymore. I’m your Guardian. And that means a major change for me and for you. The biggest change is that I’m bound to you by honor even more than I am by love. I’m not ever gonna let you down again. I can’t tell you what your change is gonna be.” The end of the grove shimmered in front of them. Stark stopped and, following a gut impulse, he dropped to one knee in front of his shattered queen. “But I do believe one hundred percent that you’re gonna be up to it. Zoey, you’re my Ace, mo bann ri, my queen, and you have to pull yourself together, or none of us are getting out of here.”

  “Stark, you’re scaring me.”

  He got to his feet. Stark kissed both of her hands, and then her forehead before saying, “Well, Z, stay tuned, ’cause I’ve only just started.” He gave her his old, cocky grin. “No matter what happens, at least I made it here. If we get back, we’ll be able to tell the sticks-up-their-asses Vampyre High Council ‘told ya so!’ ” Then he parted the leaves of two rowan trees and stepped over the rocky boundary of the grove.

  Zoey stayed within the grove but held the branches open so she could stare out at Stark as she rocked back and forth, causing the leaves to rustle like a murmuring audience.

  “Stark, come back!”

  “Can’t do that, Z. I got something to take care of.”

  “What? I don’t understand!”

  “I’m gonna kick some immortal ass. For you, for me, and for Heath.”

  “But you can’t! You can’t beat Kalona.”

  “You’re probably right, Z. I can’t. But you can.” Stark threw wide his arms and yelled into Nyx’s sky. “Come on, Kalona! I know you’re here! Come get me. It’s the only way you’re going to be sure Zoey won’t get back, ’cause as long as I’m alive I’m gonna fight to save her!”

  The sky above Stark rippled, and the pristine blue began to gray. Tendrils of Darkness, like smoke from a toxic fire, spread, thickened, and took form. His wings appeared first. Massive, black, and unfurled, they blotted out the golden light of the Goddess’s sun. Then Kalona’s body formed—bigger, stronger, more dangerous-looking than Stark had remembered.

  Still hovering above Stark, Kalona smiled. “So, it is you, boy. You sacrificed yourself to follow her here. My work is done. Your death traps her here more easily than I ever could have.”

  “Wrong, asshole. I’m not dead. I’m alive, and I’m gonna stay that way. So is Zoey.”

  Kalona’s eyes narrowed. “Zoey will not leave the Otherworld.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m here to make sure you’re wrong again.”

  “Stark! Get back in here!” Zoey shouted from just inside the boundary of the grove.

  Kalona’s gaze went to her. He sounded sad, almost heartsick when he spoke. “It would have been an easier thing for her had you let the human boy do my will.”

  “That’s the problem with you, Kalona. You have that god-complex thing going on. Or, no, I guess I should call it a Goddess complex you got. See, just because you’re immortal, it doesn’t make you in charge. Actually in your case, it just makes you wrong for a really, really long time.”

  Slowly, Kalona shifted his gaze from Zoey to Stark. The immortal’s amber-colored eyes had gone flat and cold with anger. “You are making a mistake, boy.”

  “I’m not a boy anymore.” Stark’s tone matched Kalona’s.

  “You’ll always be a boy to me. Insignificant, weak, mortal.”

  “Which makes you wrong three times in a row, mortal doesn’t mean weak. Come on down here and let me prove that to you.”

  “Very well, boy. Let the pain this causes Zoey be on your soul, not mine.”

  “Yeah, ’cause I’d hate for you to fucking take responsibility for any of the messed-up shit you’ve done!”

  As Stark knew it would, his taunt pushed Kalona’s simmering rage to boiling. He roared at Stark, “Do not dare speak to me of my past!”

  The immortal stretched out his arm, and from the Darkness writhing in the air around him, plucked a spear, tipped by metal that glistened wickedly, black as a moonless sky. Then Kalona dropped from the sky.

  Instead of landing in front of Stark, his massive wings swept down and forward, slicing the ground in a perfect circle around Stark. Under his feet, the earth shuddered and then disintegrated, and like hell opening beneath him, Stark was falling down . . . down.

  He hit bottom with such force his breath was knocked from him, and his vision grayed. He struggled to stand as he heard mocking laughter all around him.

  “Just a small, weak boy trying to play with me. This won’t even be amusing,” Kalona said.

  Arrogant. He’s more arrogant than I ever was.

  And with the thought of what he had been, and what he’d already defeated, Stark’s chest loosened. He was able to draw breath. His vision cleared in time to see a flash of brilliant light pierce the darkness between him and Kalona, and the Guardian claymore was there, blade driven in the earth at his feet.

  Stark grasped the hilt and felt it instantly, the warmth and the pulse of his heartbeat as the claymore, his claymore, sang in tune with his blood.

  He looked at Kalona and saw surprise in the immortal’s amber eyes.

  “I told you I wasn’t a boy anymore.” Without hesitation, Stark strode forward, holding the claymore with both hands, perfectly centered on the geometrical strike lines that coalesced over Kalona’s body.

  Chapter 29

  Zoey

  The shock I felt when Kalona materialized above Stark was terrible. The sight of
him brought back everything that had happened in that last moment on that last day, before my world exploded in death and despair and guilt. Fully formed, his amber gaze met mine, and I was frozen by the sadness I saw there, and by the memory of how I’d looked into his eyes before and believed I’d glimpsed humanity, kindness, even love.

  I’d been so, so wrong.

  Heath had died because of how wrong I’d been.

  Then Kalona’s gaze moved from me back to Stark, as my Warrior taunted him.

  No! Oh, Goddess! Please make him be quiet. Please make him run back to me.

  But Stark seemed to like taunting Kalona. He wouldn’t shut up; he didn’t run. Horror filled me as Kalona plucked the spear from the sky. His wings cut a hole in the ground and then he and Stark disappeared into its blackness.

  It was then I realized that Stark was also going to die because of me.

  “No!” The soundless scream tore from deep inside me, where everything felt empty and hopeless and restless. I needed to run—to keep moving—to escape from what was happening here.

  I couldn’t handle it. There wasn’t enough of me left to handle it.

  But if I didn’t handle it, Stark would die.

  “No.” This time the word wasn’t a ghostly, soundless scream. It was my voice—my voice, and not that awful not-here crap that had been babbling out of my mouth.

  “Stark. Can. Not. Die.” I tasted the words and followed their form and familiarity, listening for myself, as I stepped from the grove and headed to the black hole in the ground inside of which my Warrior had disappeared.

  When the hole opened at my feet, I looked down to see Stark and Kalona facing each other in the middle of it. Stark was holding a gleaming sword in both of his hands against Kalona’s dark spear.

  I realized then that it wasn’t just a hole in the ground. It was an arena. Kalona had created an arena with high walls, unbroken and slick. Walls that couldn’t be climbed.

  Kalona had Stark trapped. Now he couldn’t run, even if he would listen to me. He couldn’t escape. He also couldn’t possibly win. And Kalona wouldn’t be happy with beating Stark up a little—or even a lot. Kalona meant to kill Stark.

  The restless numbness started to smother me again as Stark faced Kalona. I let my feet move but forced myself to stay where I could see the adversaries, walking the circumference of the arena as, unbelievably, Stark attacked the fallen immortal.

  Laughing cruelly, Kalona deflected the sword with a flick of the spear, and with a movement so blindingly fast there was no way Stark could have seen it coming, Kalona smashed his open hand into Stark’s face with ferocious, sneering disdain. Stark’s forward momentum carried him awkwardly past the immortal, and he fell to the ground, holding his hands over his ears like he was trying to ease the pain in his head.

  “A Guardian claymore—that’s amusing. So you think you can stand with them?” Kalona spoke while Stark regained his balance and turned to face him again, his sword held up before him.

  Blood trickled from Stark’s ears, nose, and lips, making thin scarlet threads down his chin and neck. “I don’t think I’m a Guardian. I am a Guardian.”

  “You can’t be. I know your past, boy. I’ve seen you embrace Darkness. Tell the Guardians about that and then see if they still want you.”

  “The only other person who can make, or unmake, me a Guardian is my queen, and she knows about me and my past.”

  I watched Stark lunge again. With a disdainful sneer, Kalona used the spear to brush aside the blade. This time when he hit Stark, it was with his closed fist, and the force of it broke his nose and bloodied his cheekbones, knocking my Warrior to his back.

  I held my breath, watching helplessly for what I knew would be Kalona’s killing blow.

  But the immortal didn’t do anything except laugh while Stark struggled painfully to his feet. “Zoey isn’t a queen. She isn’t strong enough. She’s just a weak girl who let herself be shattered by the death of one human boy,” Kalona said.

  “You’re wrong. Zoey isn’t weak; she cares! And about that human boy? That’s part of the reason I’m here. I need to collect the life debt you owe for killing him.”

  “Fool! It’s only Zoey who can collect that debt!”

  With those words, it was as if Kalona had taken his spear and sliced through the fog of guilt that had been blanketing me since I’d watched him twist Heath’s neck, allowing everything to become very clear to me.

  I might not see myself as a queen—or as much of anything sometimes—but Stark believed in me. Heath believed in me. Stevie Rae believed in me. Even Aphrodite believed in me.

  And, as Stevie Rae would have said, Kalona was as wrong as manboobs.

  Caring about others didn’t make me weak. It was the choices that I’d made because of that caring that defined me.

  I’d let love shatter me once, and as I watched Kalona play with my Warrior, my Guardian, I chose to let honor heal me.

  And that, finally, made my decision.

  I turned my back on the arena and moved quickly to the edge of the Goddess’s grove. Blocking out the sense of restlessness that threatened to pull me ever forward without really taking me anywhere, I made myself stand still. Spreading my arms wide I focused first on the last spirit who had spoken to me.

  “Brighid! I need my strength back!”

  The redhead materialized before me. She looked like a Goddess herself, all fiery and tall, full of power and confidence that I didn’t have.

  “No,” I corrected myself out loud. “The power and confidence are mine. I just lost them for a while.”

  “Ready to accept them back?” she said, familiar eyes meeting mine.

  “I am.”

  “Well, it’s about time.” She stepped forward and put her arms around me, pulling me close to her in an embrace that was as strong as it was intimate. My arms closed around her, and with that acceptance she dissolved against my skin, and I was filled with a surge of heat that was power—pure power.

  “One down,” I muttered. “Get your butt in gear, girl.”

  I spread my arms again. This time my feet stayed planted firmly on the earth and the desire to move, search, flee, flowed over and past me, harmless as spring rain.

  “I need my joy back!”

  My nine-year-old self didn’t materialize. She bounded from the grove. Giggling, she hurled herself into my arms. I caught her, and, as she yelled, “Yippee!” she soaked into my soul.

  Laughing, I spread my arms again. Joy and strength allowed me to accept the last of my missing soul—compassion.

  “A-ya, I need you back, too,” I called into the grove.

  The Cherokee maid stepped gracefully from the tree line. “A-de-lv, sister, I am glad to hear you call my name.

  “Yeah, well, I can honestly say I’m glad to have you as part of me. I accept you, A-ya. Totally. Will you come back?”

  “I’ve been here all along. All you had to do was ask.”

  I met her halfway and hugged her hard, bringing her back to me, and in turn, bringing myself back.

  “Now, let’s see who’s a weak little girl,” I said, hurrying back to Kalona’s arena.

  I stepped to the edge and looked down. Stark was on his knees again. The sight of him squeezed my heart. My Guardian looked awful. His lips were swollen and split wide in a bunch of places. His nose had been smashed crooked and was oozing blood. His left shoulder was a shapeless, dislocated mess, leaving his arm dangling limply at his side. The beautiful sword was lying on the ground, just out of his reach. I could see that the bones of one foot and a kneecap had been shattered, but still Stark struggled along on the ground at Kalona’s feet, hopelessly trying to move closer toward his claymore.

  Kalona was hefting his spear as if he was testing the balance of it and studied Stark. “A broken Guardian for a shattered girl. It seems you two fit better together now,” he said.

  And that seriously pissed me off.

  “You have no idea how tired I am of your crap, Kalon
a,” I said.

  Both of their heads snapped up. I didn’t look away from Kalona, but I could feel Stark’s grin.

  “Go back to the grove, Zoey,” Kalona said. “It is better for you there.”

  “You know what I really hate? Guys trying to tell me what to do.”

  “Yep, my queen, that’s what Heath said.” The grin was in Stark’s voice now, and I had to look at him.

  I met his battered gaze, and the pride in me I saw reflected there made my eyes fill with tears. “My Warrior . . .” I whispered to him.

  That one instant—my one small mistake—was enough for Kalona. I heard him say, “You should have chosen to return to the grove.” I saw Stark’s eyes widen, and as my gaze flew back to the immortal, Kalona spun around, his right arm stretched back like an ancient warrior god. He released the spear with a burst of strength and speed that I knew I couldn’t—

  “No!” I screamed. “Come to me, air!” I leaped into the arena, trusting the element to cushion me, but even as I felt the current catch me, I saw it was too late.

  Kalona’s spear struck Stark in the middle of his chest. It traveled through his body, the barbs in the spear shank catching his rib cage and hurling him backward with such momentum that he was impaled against the far wall of the arena with sickening force.

  My feet touched the ground, and I was already running to Stark. I reached him, and his gaze met mine. He was still alive!

  “Don’t die! Don’t die! I can fix this. I have to be able to fix this.”

  Unbelievably, he smiled. “That’s right. My queen won’t let anything shatter her again. Collect your debt, and let’s go home.”

  Stark closed his eyes and, with a smile on his broken lips, I watched his body convulse once. Bloody air bubbles foamed around the spear in his chest, and suddenly there was no movement, no sound from him at all. My Warrior was dead.

  This time when I faced the being who had just killed someone I loved, I didn’t give in to horror and pain. This time I kept spirit close to me instead of hurling it away, and from it I drew the power of knowledge and let instincts, and not guilt and despair, guide me.