Page 25 of Tempting the Fae Lord (The Gatekeeper’s Weakness)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ezra

Taking action sends a sharp thrill humming through my bones.

We begin at dusk the following night: me, Willow and her troops, Farlowe, and Gale. He could not be convinced to stay behind, and I’m through telling him what to do.

“Petru will need a friendly face,” he said.

I’d argue that protecting Gale is more important than protecting Petru, but doing things my way hasn’t gotten us very far. So I held my tongue.

Sonja has several nights’ head start on us.

Our plan is to utilize Farlowe’s ability to track with a spell and my ability to portal within this realm.

The combination should overtake her lead and put us on equal footing.

The soldiers will subdue Petru. Then Willow, Farlowe, and I will capture Sonja.

She’ll be taken to Lemossin, where she’ll become Suvi’s problem instead of mine.

This way, I won’t have to kill her, Gale won’t be upset that I killed her, Petru can return to his family on the other side, and everything can go back to normal.

Better than normal.

Because for better or for worse, Gale is my lover now, and I’m selfish enough to look forward to whatever that brings.

So yes, I’m thrilled.

We meet in the Great Hall. It’s one of the few places in the fortress large enough to contain a summoned portal. I’ve portalled from here before, so the magical resonance is familiar.

Eulayla collects the bit of fabric Sonja had been working on and brings it to Farlowe.

He nods his thanks and holds the delicate needlework in spindly hands. He closes his eyes and runs his fingers over each stitch. Softly, he starts to chant in the tongue of the old realm, the language of our ancestors, used before my birth.

The ancient words have an eerie bite to them. I never learned the old tongue, save for a few isolated words, and I don’t recognize the chant.

“South,” he says. “On the rocky bank of the Onyx River. In the wildlands, not close to any towns. Between a worn deer trail and the ruins of a watermill.” He opens his eyes. “Is that enough?”

Oddly specific and vague at once, which is both good news and bad news.

Good because there will be fewer bystanders to get in our way in the wildlands. And hopefully, fewer graves to rob should Petru be called to wield his unholy talent.

And bad because it’s tricky to portal to nowhere. With no real landmarks and nothing familiar to me, it’ll be guesswork to get us there.

But I think I can do it. “Should be.”

I blow out a slow breath and concentrate on the hum of raw magic at my disposal, drawing it to coil at my fingertips.

Threads of purple light begin to weave a large opening before me as I reach for the distant forest. Searching, searching, my power unfurls, bending the world to my will, slightly at first, then tearing through like old fabric, brittle and vulnerable to unseen hands.

The wildlands yawn before us, waiting for me to step through.

“Come,” I say, trusting the others to follow.

It’s warmer here. Greener and louder too, with bugs calling from every surrounding tree.

Scents of campfire waft in the air. We must be close. I catch the wretched stench of her magic immediately.

“Stay behind me,” I whisper to Gale. “This way.” I gesture to the others.

We find their camp at the base of the rickety remains of the watermill. Twin canvas tents on either side of a fire ring, ashes still smoldering.

The tents are empty, but as I lay my hand on the bedroll, the warmth tells me they were here recently.

Farlowe resumes chanting and, after a moment, points downriver.

Willow orders her soldiers ahead. Those with wings take flight. I give chase on foot. I don’t want Gale out of my sight.

Her angry shriek pierces the calm of the river. I’d recognize Sonja’s wailing anywhere. And I’d give my right arm to silence it permanently.

With everything in me, I wish Gale weren’t here. I wish he were somewhere safe. The best I can do is turn to him and plead. “Stay back. Watch from a distance. Trust me.”

He nods, eyes wide, and I take off toward the clash and clamor of the fight.

“Who are you? Why threaten me?” yells Sonja.

Petru shivers, hiding some distance behind her, eyes haunted. His scarlet magic hovers around him, and already a wolf pack, long since dead and rotten, shakes dirt off their fur and gallops into battle.

Willow doesn’t answer Sonja’s questions. She simply advances on her quarry while Farlowe’s magic cleaves a path for her and her troops.

I rush to their aid.

“You!” Sonja directs a burst of magic my way.

I dodge and unsheathe my knives. I can’t use magic without also hitting Farlowe, but Farlowe is struggling. Willow doesn’t seem to notice. She forges ahead while her mage is getting battered with dark magic. Wolves snap at the air around him.

I lunge between them, intent on giving Farlowe a break, but he falls before I make it. The soldiers nearest him keep the wolves at bay, but they don’t die. They keep coming back, teeth gnashing.

A tide of rage-fueled magic knocks Willow off her feet.

The soldiers fall like dominoes under the onslaught. Between Sonja’s magic and the damned wolves, progress is thwarted.

I throw my knives, aiming for her hands. They thud against her shields, useless. So I thrust a wallop of my magic instead. She staggers back a step but doesn’t go down.

Willow regains her footing and charges, sword raised.

Sonja calls for Petru’s help and takes off.

Petru drops to all fours, hands on the earth. The sizzle of dark magic crackles in the air. Bone calling magic. What else will he raise? I don’t want to know.

Out of nowhere, Gale crashes to his side. “Petru, don’t!”

But it’s too late. The earth stirs beneath our feet. Whatever lay dead beneath is now awakened.

“Gale, get to safety!” I yell, but the soldiers are already on their way. They descend upon the tangled pile of man and mage like an avalanche tearing down a mountain.

“Do not harm Gale!” I order loud enough to rattle their bones.

I don’t trust them with Gale. I don’t trust Petru with Gale. If I’m being honest, I don’t trust Gale with Gale.

But my duty demands I subdue Sonja, so I force my attention to the fleeing sorceress.

She’s doubled back, running toward her camp. With every bit of vampire speed, I give chase. The faster I subdue her, the faster I can check on Gale.

I’ve lost Willow and Farlowe in the fray. If they’re in pursuit, I don’t hear them.

Nothing is going to plan. But that’s fine. It’ll be me and her, and I’m done with losing.

“Surrender,” I yell, “and I shall spare your life.”

Her cackling laughter grates on my ears. “You first, Gatekeeper, and maybe I’ll spare your little pet.”

We stare at each other over the ashes from their campfire, two predators circling.

I have it with her. My hands buzz with unspent magic. I take aim and fling a burst at her chest, careful not to make it a killing blow. The plan. Remember the plan. Take her alive.

Her eyes burn silver. She absorbs the blow and sends one back. A bolt of light slashes toward me. I leap and roll away.

With a flick of my wrist, I beckon the creek water and send it rushing at her.

The first wave knocks her off her feet, but she’s ready for the second. Her shields crash down around her.

But they don’t stop there, ensnaring me in her damned magical prison.

In the distance, Gale cries out in pain.

The blood in my veins freezes at the sound of his agonized wail.

The night itself holds her breath.

I whirl around, desperate to go to him, but a wall of her magic has me trapped.

With all my power, I lash out, snarling. I don’t think about the plan. I don’t think about my promise. I don’t think about the consequences.

Summoning every ounce of magic to obey and do my bidding, I throw all I have left at her. The air snaps as the vortex sucks the wing from her lungs and pummels her backward. Water turns to ice turns to blades, all hurtling toward her with the speed of a thousand shooting stars.

Her spine slams against the solid wall of a tree trunk, and her mouth gapes open in a silent scream. At her sides, her hands tremble. Wide eyes stare forward, blinking. Her chest heaves.

I don’t stick around to see what follows.

Frantic, I rush to Gale’s side. The scent of his blood strikes like iron on flint.

Petru is already there. “No, no, no, no. Gale! I’m sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to you.”

“Gale?” I lean over him. Blood pools from between his fingers where he’s clenching his stomach. “Mooncalf, let me see.”

His hands fall away, limp.

Blood wells from where his shirt is torn in two places.

“Is it bad?” His voice is weak.

Too weak.

“My fault,” says Petru. “He’s bitten. From a wolf I raised. For her. And now Gale… He’s dying.”

No. I refuse to believe it’s fatal. Just a bite. He’s overcome worse. He’ll overcome this. “Gale?”

He groans. His lids slide closed.

I cup his cheek and shake. “Look at me. Eyes open. Gale, we need to get back to Eulie. She’ll know what to do.”

Petru sobs, head shaking. “There’s nothing for it. I sense death on him.”

A searing ache claws behind my ribs, but I stamp it down. Gale will be fine. Fine. I scoop him into my arms and glare at Petru.

“Pull yourself together. I’m not letting him die. Gather the others. We’ll portal back in one minute. I’ll wait for no one.”

Gaze haunted, he takes off on stomping feet.

“Mooncalf, what did I tell you about getting into trouble?”

The corner of his mouth lifts as though he’s trying to smile. If he weren’t already dying, I’d kill him myself. Naughty creature.

“This can’t be helped. If it enthralls you to me, we’ll figure something out, yes?” I don’t wait for his response. His heartbeat is already too sluggish. His breath too shallow.

I tuck him tight against me with one arm and bite my other wrist deep to the bone. The gaping wound I force against his mouth. “Swallow. You must swallow.”

Nothing. His lips don’t fasten. His throat isn’t working.

He isn’t moving at all.

I pry his jaw open and bleed into his gaping mouth. A river of ruby spills over the side and down his cheek, into his messy curls.

“Swallow, curse you!”

He’s limp in my arms.

No.

Eulie. I need Eulie.

Casting the portal to return is always much easier. Of all the places I’ve portalled, my home is where I’ve gone most. The path should be clear to me. Yet as our troops gather around me, eerily silent, I struggle to work the magic. I’m shaking too much.

I force myself to focus on the magic.

The portal opens, a glowing ring of purple with my last hope waiting on the other side. I stumble through and collapse on the stone floor of the Great Hall, banging my knees but protecting Gale from the impact.

I can’t see clearly. My eyes are wet. “Eulie!”

“I’m here, love.”

“Gale’s hurt. Save him!”

Around me, there is movement. There is sound. Willow’s sturdy voice issuing commands. Petru’s sniffling. The boots of soldiers clomping by. I don’t know what’s happened to Sonja, and I don’t care.

In my arms, only stillness.

Then Eulie’s gentlest tone at my shoulder. “It’s too late.”

“It’s not. The medical kit. Grab it. He needs stitches.”

“Stitches won’t fix this, Ezra.” Pain in her voice.

Petru hovers at my other side. “There is a way.”

“What? What way? Do it now, curses. Fix him!”

“Not me. My magic doesn’t work like that. You.”

Realization dawns.

A vampire.

I could make him a vampire. My mind rebels. “I’ve never made another.”

“But it was done to you,” says Petru. “So you know how.”

“Yes.”

“Then do it. Or his death will be final.”

I look to Eulie, pleading. For what I don’t know. Permission? Her blessing? His? “What if he hates me?”

“He won’t.” She says this so easily. Like she believes it.

But I hate the one who made me.

I’ll never forgive myself if Gale hates me for this.

I’ll never forgive myself if I let him die.

My gaze fixes on his neck, the delicate skin of his throat, the muscle at the junction of neck and shoulder.

The demon inside me salivates.

Have him. Take him. He’s yours now.

I shake myself, banishing the monster.

I love Gale.

And it’s not him who belongs to me. It’s me who belongs to him. For as long as he wants me. Because I will not let him die tonight.

I bend over him, place my teeth on his vulnerable neck, and bite.