Page 53

The floor cracks beneath my feet as I grip Lena’s hand and pull her down the quaking staircase. Plaster rains from the ceiling, dusting my hair and shoulders in a haze of white. A sudden rupture in the foundation nearly sends me sprawling, but I yank Lena back from the edge just in time.

Around us, the house shudders in its death throes. Paintings sway on their hooks. Somewhere down the hall, a mirror shatters.

When we stagger into the antechamber, Kiaran’s head snaps up. Relief crashes across his features. “Cutting it close, Kameron.”

“If it’s not close, it’s not exciting.” I jerk my chin at the fae beside me. “Meet Lena. Lena, this is Kiaran MacKay, light of my life, maker of beautiful blades, and pain in my arse.” I don’t wait for the pleasantries. “Now out of the house.”

We clatter down the front steps. Dread curls tight in my gut as I take in the scene unfolding. One by one, the stately townhomes crumple inward. Stone and wood splinter, filling the air with a choking haze of dust and debris.

Blinking grit from my eyes, I haul Lena toward the others huddled at the far side of the street. They look pale, faces smudged with ash. Only Sorcha seems unbothered, her features in their usual mask of irritation.

“Just in time for the apocalypse,” she drawls as we skid to a stop. “How thoughtful of you to join us. Very punctual.”

“Shut up and slice open your skin,” I snap, yanking a blade free of my wrist sheath and tossing it to Sorcha, “before I do it myself.”

But an invisible force slams into Sorcha, sending her crashing to the cobblestones. I whirl, ready for an attack, but there’s nothing behind me.

“Aileana!” Catherine’s cry snaps my head around.

It’s the only warning I get before something barrels into me, ripping me off my feet. I hit the ground hard, the impact rattling my skull. Pain lances through my arm as it cracks against a chunk of rubble.

Dazed, I peer up through a haze of grit and blood. Aithinne stands over me. But her eyes—they’re vivid blue.

The Morrigan’s eyes.

She’s stolen Aithinne’s body.

The goddess locks onto Lena. Hungry. “How lovely to see my Book again. You’ve been moving around so much, haven’t you? I haven’t been able to sense you.”

Kiaran lunges, his blade a blur as he rakes it across the Morrigan’s arm—just a graze, but enough to snag her focus.

“Run!” he snarls at Lena.

She tries. I see her muscles bunch—but before she can take a step, vines explode from the cobblestones, twisting around her.

The Morrigan bats Kiaran’s sword away. Slams her fist into his face with a crack that turns my stomach. He goes down hard.

“Songbird, I need your blood,” the Morrigan says. Then those searing eyes cut to me. “And you, Aileana Kameron, will give me my yes. I have three fragile little humans to bargain with now.”

I reach for my power, the writhing mass of it inside my chest. Shoving it through my veins until they burn, until my vision whites out at the edges.

It hurts—the magic shredding me up from the inside.

Just breathe it out, shape it, use it —

I fling the energy at the Morrigan. She bats it away, and the backlash slams into me. I’m airborne, weightless. The ground rushes up to meet me, and everything goes black.

Sound returns first. Kiaran, calling my name. His hands on me, dragging me upright even as the world spins.

“On your feet, Kameron.”

I spit the copper tang of blood onto the street, swaying into his side. “I’m very tired of being thrown on my arse,” I mutter. “Get the humans out of here, would you?”

His fingers dig into my arm, anchoring me. “You must have cracked your head if you think I’m abandoning you.”

The Morrigan’s power cracks out, a lash that rips me from Kiaran and sends him sprawling. I hear Aithinne’s lilting laugh, twisted into something monstrous by the being wearing her skin.

“No hiding,” the Morrigan snaps. “I want you present to watch.” She turns to Sorcha, pressing a blade to her palm. “Bleed and open my Book, girl.”

Movement in my periphery. Catherine lunges for Kiaran’s fallen sword.

Daniel’s shout: “ Catherine, no ! ”

The blade connects, scoring a line of red across the Morrigan’s chest. She doesn’t even flinch. Just reaches out with an almost lazy flick of her fingers.

Catherine’s neck snaps.

She falls to the ground and goes still, glassy eyes fixed on nothing.

I swallow back the scream building in my chest.

Finish this . I grind the litany between my teeth even as grief threatens to swallow me. You can bring her back. End this, and you can save her.

“Another pawn lost.” The Morrigan tilts her head, regarding me with interest. “What will it be, Falconer? A yes, before I take the other two?” Gavin shouts. Hurls himself forward, Daniel on his heels. The Morrigan swats them away. “It’s easy when they keep throwing themselves at me, girl.”

I can’t do this. Can’t watch them be killed. Not after Derrick.

The Morrigan’s power slithers over my skin, a cruel caress.

“One word, and this ends. Who shall be next to fall?” She cuts a look at Kiaran.

“Your beautiful king, perhaps?” Aithinne’s eyes bore into me, stolen by a depthless blue.

“He looks to you for salvation, but we both know the truth. You’re so fragile. Dying by inches in his bed.”

I wince, but she isn’t finished.

“Give me my yes,” the Morrigan croons, “and he’s yours.

I’ll rip the vow from his bones, free him from his obligation to my little songbird.

A snap of my fingers, and you’ll never wither in his arms. Eternal youth, eternal beauty.

” Her head tips. “All you need to do is resurrect my body. Shall I begin it for you?”

The goddess twists Sorcha’s arm. She makes a thin, animal sound. “I gave you an instruction, sweet songbird.”

Sorcha fumbles with the dagger. Then she curls her hand around the blade, splitting her flesh, and slaps her bloody palm against Lena’s tattoos.

Lena’s back arches. Her markings pulse with light that sears my vision, and just like that, the Book is ready to be used.

“The final step,” the Morrigan says. “Will it be a yes, Aileana Kameron? Or another body on the pile?”

Sorcha lifts her head. “Don’t,” she rasps. “The Book is yours now—”

The Morrigan’s power cracks into me, and I taste metal on my tongue. My magic strains against her relentless onslaught, barely shielding my bones from being broken.

“Say it,” the goddess hisses. “Say yes, girl.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for impact. “Aithinne, I am so sorry about this headache I’m about to give you.”

I slam into the Morrigan, a graceless tangle of limbs and nails and teeth.

We roll across cobblestones slick with blood—mine or hers, I can’t be sure.

Probably both. My fists find purchase. But for every blow I land, the goddess answers with three more.

Slashing. Tearing. Leaving me raw and bloodied.

I can’t unleash everything. Can’t risk shattering Aithinne to pieces.

So I fight dirty. Savage, but restrained.

“Kameron.” Kiaran’s voice cuts through the pain-filled haze clouding my mind. “What are you doing? Use one of Lena’s spells.”

“Easier said than done with an enraged death goddess wearing your sister’s body and doing her damnedest to rip me limb from limb.”

He strains against the Cailleach’s bonds, muscles corded with tension. “Then perhaps quit wasting breath on sarcastic rejoinders and focus on not dying.”

I risk a glance over my shoulder, shooting Kiaran a withering look. “Stop standing there trussed up in magic, looking pretty. The realm’s degrading enough. Try your shadows.”

The goddess’s elbow cracks into my jaw, snapping my head to the side. I spit a mouthful of blood onto the street, blinking past the white sparks swarming my vision.

“You’re in rare form today,” Kiaran mutters, but I feel power gathering—his. “Such dulcet tones. Such tender endearments. Truly, I’m the luckiest bastard to walk the earth.”

Then he’s moving—a dark blur. With a snarl, he rips apart the Morrigan’s bonds. Frost billows from him. Shadows stretch and writhe. He lashes out to snare the goddess’s stolen limbs, forcing her back on her heels.

“Happy now?” he asks me dryly.

“Delirious,” I say, panting. “Overcome with joy. However can I thank you?”

“Staying alive would be a start.”

God, I adore him.

Kiaran directs the roiling darkness to lash out and restrain the Morrigan.

She staggers back, and I use the distraction to launch myself at the goddess, teeth bared.

The goddess easily bats me aside, and pain splinters through my body.

But I drag myself up and throw my entire weight against her again.

She slams an elbow into my ribcage hard enough to crack bone.

My vision whites out, but I claw back from the brink through spite alone.

I spit out a mouthful of blood. “Kiaran, hold her still. I need to reach Lena.”

He complies without question, expression intent. More shadows explode from the ground, coiling around the Morrigan and forcing her down to her knees. She strains against their hold, screaming her rage.

I throw up a shimmering shield of magic and lunge toward Lena. My hands close over her arms as I drag her free of the restraining vines.

“I need a spell. Anything you’ve got.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t. It’ll kill you.”

Another concussive blast rocks the square. My shield wavers, spiderweb cracks racing across its iridescent surface. Magic bleeds through the seams. It won’t hold much longer—a few minutes at most.

Kiaran’s face is a mask of concentration. More shadows burst from him to hold the Morrigan in place. The others take advantage of the Morrigan’s distraction to huddle within the tenuous safety of my magic.

Daniel swipes a trembling hand across his brow. “I say we mount one last attack, yeah? Go down swinging.”

“Seconded,” Gavin rasps. “Die with our boots on and a song in our hearts and all that rot. Can’t let you lot have all the fun.”