Page 49

Wynter

S tone beneath the house shatters, a fault line cracking the room, then a tree root thick as a man’s torso rips through the floorboards, striking out like a whip.

Marie suddenly swoops low over the fray, screeching like a nightmare.

Her form blurs as she hurtles through the largest shadow tendril wrapping around my leg, disrupting it with a burst of white light.

The tendril recoils and dissipates. I flash her a grateful look, and she nods once and charges toward Zylah, attempting to use her translucent form to shield her.

Landolin dances back, but his shoulder clips the giant root, and he staggers, a snarl ripping from his throat.

He condenses a bolt of shadows into a blade and hurls it.

I dodge, but it skims across my ribs, scorching flesh.

Pain flares, sharp and hot, but I stay on my feet. No time to flinch. No time to bleed.

As we circle each other, I wrench a thin wall of stone up between us. Landolin melts it with a ball of smoke so dark that it burns like pitch. Heat slams into me, blistering the air.

Fuck .

My whole body aches with exhaustion. Landolin’s power isn’t fading fast enough. It shouldn’t even be holding this long, not without the Hunt to anchor it to the mortal realm. Whatever he’s doing to keep it going, I hope it burns out soon.

“Wyn, be careful,” Summer yells. I register her voice, but I can’t look away from Landolin. Not now.

He surges forward, and we collide. “Try leading with your blade, not your ego,” I grunt, shoving him back. “It’s usually more effective.”

Earth meets shadow as I drive jagged spikes up through the floor, and he counters with knives of black wind. The ceiling groans, then gives way. A chandelier crashes between us, spraying glass shards and dust.

He grins through bloodied teeth. “You’re nothing but a self-righteous, prancing, Seelie bag of moss and mud, Wynter. And I’m bound to the most powerful force in the realms.”

“Good for you,” I say. “But I’m guessing you’ll still bleed if I rip your throat out.”

I drive my heel into the floor. Vines lash out, binding his arms. I tackle him onto the wall. We grapple, and he head butts me.

Landolin snarls something guttural, and I spit out blood and grin. “Sorry. I don’t speak Old Dorthadian. Your tone reeks of desperation, though. That much is clear. How can I help send you back to that shithole you came from?”

“Fuck you, Wynter Fionbharr.” He takes shadow form and slips through my grasp, every strike I make like hacking at fog.

But that doesn’t stop me from chasing him, punching him. Over and over.

Finally, Landolin falters, flickering in and out of his material form as a root punches up through the floor and coils around his throat.

“You’re losing, Huntless mutt,” I growl.

Zylah ducks behind an overturned table, panting. Her eyes are wide, but her expression is furious. “Behind his right knee,” she yells. “That’s where the dead raven told me his curse was bound!”

So the grave whispers were true. And it’s all tied to his father binding him to the Hunt—his greatest power and the very thing that’s eating him alive.

Knife in hand, Summer doesn’t hesitate. She sprints forward, ducking under a swipe of Landolin’s blade that was meant for me, slashes and misses.

Ivor lunges next, teeth bared, aiming for the prince’s side, but he sails straight through him.

Snarling, my wolf snaps at the shadowy haze, furious and confused.

While Landolin’s focus is on Ivor, Summer drops low and crawls across the floor, her dagger glinting in what little light is left in the room. Then she surges up and drives the blade into the back of his leg.

The scream he lets out must erase any doubt Zylah ever had that he’s human.

Dark blood gushes from Landolin’s wound, a hiss sounding as it hits the air. He spins, wild with pain, and his shadows backhand Summer so hard she flies across the room.

Her cry rips through my gut, and everything inside me goes still… then shatters.

I roar her name and slam both hands to the ground. The floor splits open beneath Landolin, vines, roots, and jagged stone, surging up to seize him, dragging him down .

He thrashes, flickering between fae and shadow, screaming in a language older than time. Power shudders through the walls, brittle stone groaning beneath its weight.

“Enough,” he bellows. “This solves nothing. Ends nothing. The Hunt is more powerful than the both of us. And it will be satisfied, Wyn. There’s nothing either of us can do to stop it.”

With a final, pulse of dark magic, he tears free from the vines, his body snapping back into its solid form again. His gaze lands on Zylah, and there’s something reverent, almost worshipful, in his gaze.

“Soon,” he says. “You’ll come to me. You won’t have a choice.”

Then he dissolves into shadow, disappearing, and silence crashes down on our shoulders. A long moment passes before anyone dares to move.

Zylah draws in air like someone surfacing from deep water. Her shoulders tremble, but she’s still on her feet. Her gaze darts to where Landolin disappeared, then to Summer, then to me. Voice thin but firm, she says, “He’s not done. Whatever that was… it’s not the end of it for me, is it?”

Marie hovers near the mantel, pale and shimmering. Ivor whines softly, then settles next to Summer, eyes fixed on the trail of ash on the floor as if he half-expects Landolin’s shadows to rise again.

I kneel beside her, checking her pulse, her breathing, panic vibrating against my ribs. She’s alive. Shaken. But alive.

The ghost girl drifts closer and bows her head, her mouth working silently as she wrings her hands.

“Thank you, Marie,” Summer says with a soft smile.

“For always being here when I need you. If not for your friendship, I wouldn’t have survived this house, or my parents.

” She pauses, then adds, “Go on. Rest now. You must be tired from staying in the mortal realm so long and screaming like a howler monkey.”

Marie nods, her glow dimming as she floats toward the shattered chandelier. She vanishes into the rafters, taking the last of the light with her. I don’t say anything. None of us do.

The five cats trail after us as we make our way to the library. We light a fire in the hearth, and as shadows flicker across the walls, we watch them warily, Ivor’s growls rumbling in his chest.

Zylah drops onto a threadbare armchair with Ollie in her lap and lets out a shaky breath.

“Okay,” she says. “So… just to recap, we were attacked by a shadow prince, one of my poorly stuffed birds might be psychic, and your cat is a tiny, hairless demon with excellent timing.” She pauses.

“Not saying I’m jealous, but my orange boy just screams at the ceiling and knocks over the bottles of embalming fluid on my workbench. ”

Summer lets out a breathy, half-crazed laugh. “Ollie’s a menace. But he’s my very own hairless menace.”

Right on cue, the cat yowls and launches into her arms, and she buries her face in his wrinkled skin.

“He’s a hero,” Zylah says, cleaning her glasses. “Naked, rage-fueled, and deeply judgmental. Basically my kind of guy.”

Even I crack a grin at that… before my brain catches up to reality. Zylah may not fully realize it yet, but there’s a target on her back. A fucking big one.

“I wouldn’t say that too loudly,” Summer says, stroking Ollie’s tufted head. “You might call Landolin back with that kind of talk, Zy.”

Zylah’s smile fades, her gaze fixing on Summer. “Seriously though, I’m so freaking happy you’re not dead. I mean, other than the fancy gown, you look like a three-day-old shit in the sun, but you’re breathing. That’s a win, right?”

Summer leans her head back against the wall. “Pretty sure I bounced off a roof beam. Maybe I’m dead and this is just some weird afterlife.”

“You think that I’d be here if this were the afterlife?” Zylah scoffs. “Please. I’m obsessed with dead things. I’ll never get invited to a peaceful ghost party.”

Summer huffs a quiet laugh, then sobers. “Landolin showed me the truth, Zy. I didn’t kill my parents. Dad killed Mom, then Landolin’s shadows killed him before he could hurt me.”

Zylah’s jaw drops. “I always hated your dad. Such an asshole. Must’ve been after her life insurance payout.”

Summer wipes a tear from her face. “Definitely. Money was the only thing that mattered to him.”

“Oh, honey,” says Zylah. “You’ve always carried that guilt like a backpack full of bricks, and… I’m really sorry you had to do that for all those years. It must feel amazing to finally be free.”

“Yeah,” Summer says, her voice a broken whisper. “It’s weird. I feel lighter, but not exactly better.”

“Grief’s a stubborn bastard,” Zylah says. “But at least now you can tell it to get lost.”

I clear my throat loudly. Ah, yes. All eyes back on me. “Given the circumstances, you both handled yourselves incredibly well. And, Zylah, your fighting skills were… surprising.”

Zylah arches a brow. “Thanks. I’ve taken jujitsu classes since I was nine. But I definitely underperformed in there. I bit my tongue, screamed, and flung a very brave cat into a death zone.”

“You also gave us the opening to weaken Landolin,” I say. “And that raven of yours wasn’t wrong. ”

Zylah exhales, then mutters, “I hate it when the spooky ones are right.” Her gaze drifts to the fire. “What was that insane thing he said to me before he vanished?”

Summer sits forward, grimacing. “I think he’s coming back for you. We have to figure out how to keep you safe.”

Zylah nods slowly. “Great. Love that for me. Can we ask Detective Perez to arrest him?”

“Sure,” I say. “Right after he arrests the ghost of the guy with the tooth collection in your attic. You know, the one with the big bag?”

Instead of laughing at my joke, Summer blinks. “I’m sorry. What ghost with what bag? And why didn’t you mention him before?”

“Okay, but... is he like a dentist?” asks Zylah. “Or is it more of a teeth-trophy-collector, serial-killer situation?”

“I don’t know,” I reply. “Never asked. It’s okay. I can banish him if he makes you uncomfortable. I thought you’d know about every ghost in this place.”

“Not all of them. And we avoid the attic. The vibes are too creepy,” says Summer. Then she holds her hand out, beckoning me closer. “Wyn, can your court do anything to help?”

I nod and sit beside her on the sofa, drawing her into my embrace. “Yeah. Don’t worry. We’ll find a way to keep Landolin at bay. Even if we have to hide Zylah at my home, the Elemental Court.”

“So, exactly what kind of supernatural creatures are you and the shadow dude?” Zylah asks.

“Fae. The kind Summer’s mom wrote about,” I tell her.

“I can’t run away to Faery and leave all my babies behind,” Zylah protests, gesturing toward the basement where “ all the magic happens ” as she’s fond of saying.

“Bring them with you,” I suggest. “My family would be fascinated.”

“I’ll think about it,” she concedes. “So Landolin’s cursed? What does that mean exactly?”

Summer and I look at each other, the cut on my palm burning. “Can’t talk about that now,” I say. Or ever .

Zylah crosses her arms and frowns. “But he won’t be coming back tonight, will he?”

I rake a hand through my hair. “Doubt it. He’ll be licking his wounds and scheming with the Hunt. Working out the best time to strike again.”

“Good.” Zylah yawns. “After tonight’s shit show, I really need to unwind. Feels like the perfect time to embalm an emotionally unstable chicken. The farmer said it died of anxiety. A cautionary tale for you, Summer.”

She rises from the armchair, adjusts one of the buns in her hair, gives us clumsy hugs, and then heads down to the basement.

Summer’s arms twine around my neck, and she drops a soft kiss on my cheek. “Speaking of my mother… we’d better go deal with the ghost of all my childhood trauma.”

“Sure you don’t want to get started on the dining room repairs first?” I tease.

“God, no. Banishings before decorating. That’s always been my motto.”