Page 35

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

My bare feet pounded against the forest floor as I ran downstream, my dress flapping at my knees. The purple canes of wild blackberries clawed after my legs and rocks growing out of the ground scraped my soles, but I felt nothing. Nothing but hot panic boiling through my veins.

“Sawyer!”

The tabby cat’s head broke above the surface, mouth wide and gasping, eyes wide as coins. His mewl became a gurgle as the current sucked him back under. The river charged over a rocky shelf, dropping only three feet but plunging its entire force onto a cluster of boulders that squatted there like gigantic frogs. I saw a flash of stripes then a head as Sawyer sucked in another lungful of air.

“Here!”

A vine shot from my hand with the speed of a fired arrow, dozens of tendrils spurting from its length. Each could wrap around a clump of fur, a toe, a whisker, a paw, a tail. The tomcat saw it, amber eyes blinking rapidly against the frothing water. All he needed to do was not go under again and the vine would do the rest .

A silver spear shot through the vine.

Not a spear. A root .

My magic burst into glittering green sparks, and the silver mallaithe retracted its tentacle-like root back below the surface.

Those seed pods Ossian had thrown into the water . . ..

The river churned with two new currents, the V-shaped wakes of the fae hunting trees angling straight for my cat.

Oh my Green Mother.

“Swim, Sawyer,” I screamed. “Mallaithe!”

The magic oak tree contracted, and two cracking bolts of green magic shot each mallaithe. The fae hunting trees merely dove deeper and let the violent water dissipate the strikes.

Still running along the river’s edge, I slammed a glowing fist against one autumn olive tree and then another. The roots of these fast-growing invasive trees shot out into the water, weaving tighter and faster than Shari with her crochet hook and an energy drink. The ends of their net skewered the red clay of the far bank and screwed in tight.

The tomcat bobbed over the top of the net like a cork, paddling frantically to keep his head above water. “ Manus . . . dilitare! ” His paws tripled in size, the webbing between his toes catching the water and finally directing his swimming.

A wave sluiced him back under only a second later—the mallaithe crashing into the root net.

The water jumped as the fae hunting trees launched their tentacles after the cat. There was a shrill scream, followed by another, and then the river began to froth and foam as the mallaithe realized the weave of the autumn olive trees was no simple net.

Its myriad questing roots lunged for the mallaithe, tangling and ensnaring. The fae hunting trees thrashed, bludgeoning holes and ripping away the weave. Fueled by my magic, the roots knitted fresh patches into the net and shot after their attackers.

With the mallaithe stymied by the living net, I took advantage of the respite and charged for the bend in the river where it widened and slowed. There was another pebbled beach there, the last one for a while before the river narrowed once more and cut through the hills. It was my best chance to pluck the cat out of the water before he drowned.

The magic oak tree pulsed with light and intent, roots green and heart red, flooding me with every ounce of power available. There was no holding back now, not when one of the creatures I loved best in this world was in peril. With every sprinting footfall, the magic I was supposed to keep hidden from Ossian revealed itself.

Trees literally shuttled out of my way. The earth sucked down the rocks and smoothed so I wouldn’t stumble. Brambles bowed to the side instead of plucking after my clothes. Branches lifted so I wouldn’t smack my head or bang my shoulders. If I left a trail of flowers and ferns growing in the imprints of my footsteps, I didn’t know. My focus was on that tabby tomcat.

Sawyer’s head was above the water again, his massive paws aiding his fight against the pull of the current as he swam towards the pebbled beach. The poor cat was exhausted and desperate, his amber eyes slitted in concentration.

I shot out another vine as I ran down the last hill. The black walnut at the hill’s base bent, offering me its branch. The coarse bark bit into my feet, but they healed as the branch launched me into the air. My dress flew into my face and my cowl shot back to tangle in my braid; I ripped the clothes aside to keep sight of the cat. The tie keeping my hair in an orderly plait was torn free, and my long brown hair streamed out behind me like a banner.

Upstream, there was a frightful crack like a dam breaking loose, but then water was splashing up to my ears as I landed in the river. With a flick of my wrist, I redirected the vine towards Sawyer. “I’ve got you, kit—”

Water flooded my mouth as a mallaithe barreled right into my stomach and drove me under.

Magic burst from every pore. The fae hunting tree shrieked as its tentacles sizzled underwater, curtains of ocher bubbles rising to the surface. With a fierce kick, I fought free and gasped in a lungful of air. The mallaithe screeched, circling like a shark as it considered its next attack.

Sawyer was still paddling, but the second mallaithe had finally freed itself from the net. It leapt from the river, evading the last-ditch effort of the autumn olives’ roots to capture it. The monster resembled a child, younger than the youth I’d fought in the foraging valley. Its trunk was no taller than a toddler, but the tentacle roots that extended past the hem of its dress were easily six feet long. The growth rate of these creatures was astounding.

Were they venomous freshly sprouted just as vipers were freshly hatched?

I couldn’t save Sawyer if he was bitten—I hadn’t even been able to save myself.

A rush of water jerked my focus away from the incoming mallaithe. The first fae hunting tree torpedoed towards me in a bold head-on attack. It was a foolish gamble, but it was young.

Ripping off my leather cuffs, I summoned my battle magic. In less than a second, thorny vines so dark a green they were almost black wreathed up my arms. In the undulating reflection of the water, I watched my eyes go dark, the ivy-green color of my irises flooding pupil and sclera. The same dark hue blackened my fingernails, the rounded edges lengthening into points. Brown hair hung in long wavy tresses that swirled in the eddies of the water like spilled ink.

I no longer saw myself in that reflection. I saw Violet.

The mallaithe put on a burst of speed. Crouching, I raised both hands, ready to catch it like a catfish and hurl it onto the bank behind me so it could die out in the sun away from its precious water. Away from my Sawyer.

Abruptly the fae hunting tree changed course, arcing back around. A slice of water obscured my vision, then a wall of scorched and blistered tentacles clobbered me straight in the chest. My battle magic absorbed most of the blow, simultaneously ricocheting the fae hunting tree clear across the river even as I was blasted out onto the bank.

I sprawled on my back for only a moment before I scrambled upright onto my hands and knees.

Both mallaithe arrowed straight for the easier prey still in the water.

“Meadow,” Sawyer yowled.

“ No! ” I roared, reaching for him.

My hand slammed into the shallows, and blue veins sprang to life along the magic oak tree’s trunk.

This wasn’t a town I was defending. This wasn’t a fancy fae key I was trying to charge.

This was Sawyer Blackfoot. My goofball kitten. A little creature who had given me his trust and his love. His bravery. His loyalty. His friendship when I’d needed it most in the world, when I was lost and afraid and teetering on the edge of despair.

That little cat had saved me more than once.

And I would die before I allowed those monsters to hurt him. His was a life worth saving, no matter the cost.

In the face of my conviction, the river had no choice but to obey.

The water below Sawyer’s flailing paws disappeared. The cat dropped onto the squishy riverbed with a surprised, “Oof!” and tensed, wrapping his tail around his oversized paws as the water scuttled away. Exposed mussels squirted tiny jets of water and a cloud of bubbles from their muddy beds and speckled crappies flopped on the muck, gills gasping.

Water sluiced under me and helped me rise to my feet. It coiled up my arms and circled around my ankles as I stepped into the shallows. Jaw set and purpose clear, I thrust my hands towards the cloudless sky.

Rise.

Sawyer’s ears lowered, his amber eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear as a ringed wall of water shot straight into the air. Behind the barrier, the mallaithe circled furiously, striking out into open air and shrieking in frustration that their prey was no longer in their preferred environment.

But mallaithe could hunt on land so long as their roots had water, an instinct these younglings were beginning to heed. Keeping its roots in the water, the scorched mallaithe emerged beyond the wall and into Sawyer’s haven. Silver lips peeled back to reveal sharp teeth bared in predatory delight.

Protect .

The command was vague, but my intent was not.

The river twisted violently to the left. Between one heartbeat and the next, the brown waters were frothing and spinning under the force of a whirlpool. But instead of funneling down, the river spiraled upwards with the bald circle of riverbed as its center.

The scorched mallaithe released the shrill cry of a train whistle as the power of the water sucked it back into the river. As the whirlpool spun upwards, the water cleared of grit and debris.

It wasn’t enough that physics told me the mallaithe were being pulled away; I had to confirm it with my own eyes.

The cold sunlight of the late-autumn day sparkled against the crystalline water. Trapped within, two juvenile mallaithe swam erratically like confused squid. They probed their confines with sharp jabs of their tentacle roots and found it ever shrinking. The mallaithe thrashed, panicked, and the strain of containing them within the spiraling water grew.

Divide , I ordered.

Two spheres of water, each imprisoning a singular mallaithe, separated from the swirling river. At the same time, a channel between the center of the whirlpool and the beach appeared. This time, the riverbed was dry with no puddles or mud.

Sawyer bolted down the channel, never once looking to the left or right or even behind him where the fae hunting trees screeched. His gaze was locked on me.

Behind him, the river began to close.

Brown water poured over the gasping fish and rehydrated the mussels, but the liquid glass of the clear water that suspended the mallaithe above the surface of the river stayed put. As much as it wanted to rejoin its source, it knew it could not until I released it.

And I wasn’t done with it yet.

With Sawyer cowering between my ankles, I clenched my outstretched hands into fists, and the red heart of my oak tree smoldered.

Steam lifted from the spheres. Not because they were hot, but because the late-autumn air was so much warmer than what the water was becoming.

The struggles of the mallaithe became sluggish, the water of their prisons thicker. Slushier.

Aunt Peony always put the lobsters we were to eat for dinner in the freezer before they went into the boiling pot. “It numbs them, puts them to sleep so they don’t feel any pain,” she’d told me. “If a life is going to be sacrificed so you can keep yours, the least you can do is make its death quick and as painless as possible.”

I had every right to command the water in the mallaithe’s veins to rip them apart from the inside out. I had every right to boil them alive for trying to eat my cat.

And I had every right to be merciful, too.

I couldn’t let these monsters live, but they didn’t need to suffer. I’d had enough suffering for a lifetime and I wasn’t about to inflict it on anyone else.

Enough , I told the blazing heart.

And just like that, the spheres froze. They were flawlessly translucent, suspending the mallaithe in their last moment of life. Root tentacles fanned out like the petals of a lily, slender arms lifted, mouths open in little gasps, eyes wide and disbelief—like young ballerinas stunned mid-leap.

It was beautiful and hideous and made bile jump out of my stomach and burn my throat.

I dropped my hands, and the spheres shattered. The blue veins that had appeared on the magic oak tree’s trunk winked out.

Ice glittered like diamond and crystal as it rained down on the rushing river. Splinters of dull gray wood, none larger than a sewing needle, caught in the wind and drifted along the air before settling like feathers upon the surface of the water. The river sucked them under to bury them in the silt.

At the water’s edge, I sank down to my knees and framed Sawyer’s whiskered face in trembling hands.

I’d just mastered the element of water, and I’d just condemned us both.