Page 26

The darkness inside the chamber wasn't complete. Not entirely.

Just obnoxiously, mostly dark.

As Ava’s eyes adjusted, she realized the space was illuminated by a faint blue phosphorescence that emanated from the shelves themselves. Or rather, from what sat upon them. “Are those still books?”

The tiny fae’s wings fluttered almost imperceptibly. “They were books. Once. Before they were forgotten so completely they lost even their form.”

What lined the endless shelves weren’t volumes or scrolls but amorphous objects that pulsed with contained information—crystalline structures that flickered with internal light, gelatinous masses that shifted and reformed continuously, devices that hummed with power.

“They’re kinda beautiful, actually.” Ava reached out toward one that resembled a galaxy suspended in glass.

“Don’t touch!” Bitty’s voice was sharp with panic. “Nothing here should be touched.”

Ava pulled her hand back. “Why? What would happen?”

“They hunger to be read again.” Bitty grimaced. “To be remembered. They’ll try to…imprint themselves into you.”

“Like a download?” Ava pictured information flooding into her brain.

“More like an infection.” The little fae shuddered. “Knowledge that wasn’t meant for your mind. Or, worse. They will ensure they are never known again. And you will forever forget. And be taken with them.”

Yeah. That was worse. Way worse.

“No touchy the sparkly. Got it.” Ava took a cautious step away from the shelves. The central aisle stretched before them, disappearing into shadow. The pull of the key was stronger now, drawing her forward. “This way.” She pointed.

They proceeded cautiously, keeping to the center of the aisle. On either side, the strange remnants of forgotten knowledge pulsed and shifted. Some seemed to turn toward them as they passed, like flowers tracking the sun.

“They know we’re here.” Bitty’s wings were flat against her back in fear.

“Can they do anything?”

“Not directly. Not unless we touch them.”

“Well, that makes them my favorite freaky terrible mind-eating monsters I’ve met all month.” But as they ventured deeper, Ava became aware of other movements—the shadow-creatures Bitty had called the Forgotten, drifting between shelves. They had no definite shape, just voids in the shape of people, negative spaces that bent the blue light around them. “Our other friends are back.”

“They watch everyone. They were scholars once. Or collectors. People who devoted their lives to knowledge, only to be forgotten themselves.” Bitty frowned, and was clearly trying not to look directly at them.

“What do they want?”

“The same thing everything here wants. Knowledge. Either more of it or less of it. Or to make sure some things—either themselves or something else—stays forgotten forever.”

Ava shivered. The Forgotten didn’t approach them, but she could feel their attention—a weight of ancient curiosity that pressed against her skin.

This place just straight-up gave her the freaking creeps.

The pull of the key led them through the maze of shelves, down staircases that spiraled into depths that shouldn’t have been possible, across reading rooms where tables stood empty save for open “books” that still waited for readers who would never return.

The blue glow grew dimmer as they descended, forcing them to move more slowly to avoid collisions with the shelves. The shadow-readers seemed more numerous here, clustering in corners, hovering near particularly ancient-looking repositories.

And the pull—the resonance between Book, the tattoo on Ava’s arm, and whatever lay ahead—grew stronger with each step, almost painful in its intensity. “We’re getting close.”

Bitty looked increasingly nervous, her wings vibrating. “Ava…are you sure we should be doing this?”

“Nope. Probably super stupid,” Ava admitted. “But I don’t have a lot of other options.”

The tiny fae seemed about to say more, but then they rounded a corner and found themselves facing a set of massive doors. Unlike everything else in the weird building, these weren’t fragmentary or decayed. They stood complete, intact—twin slabs of what appeared to be solid obsidian, polished to a mirror shine and engraved with the same shifting symbols they’d seen outside.

The First Language, moving and shifting faster than she saw before.

“Oh, this can’t be good,” Bitty whined. “We should go. We really, really should go.”

“I didn’t come here to burn calories.” The pull from beyond those doors was now so strong that Ava felt physically drawn toward them, her feet moving almost against her will. “The key is in there.”

But as they approached, something strange happened. The symbols on the door ceased their restless movement, freezing in place. The blue glow dimmed further, plunging the corridor into near-total darkness.

And the shadow-readers—the Forgotten—withdrew, melting into the shelves as if fleeing.

“Something’s wrong,” Bitty whispered, her voice barely audible.

Before Ava could respond, the massive doors swung open silently, revealing a circular chamber beyond. Unlike the rest of the space, this space was brightly lit—illuminated by floating orbs of golden light that drifted near the domed ceiling.

The chamber was empty of shelves. In their place stood a single pedestal at the center, upon which rested…

Nothing.

The pedestal was bare.

“The fuck? ” Ava stepped into the chamber, confusion momentarily overriding caution. She marched right up to that empty pedestal. “No. No! It was supposed to be here. It is still here! I can feel it?—”

“Are you looking for this?”

The voice came from behind the pedestal, smooth and cultured and chilling in its casual arrogance. And casual cruelty. A figure stepped out from shadows that shouldn’t have been able to conceal anyone in the well-lit room.

He wore a dark blue sash around his waist that draped down to the ground, stitched in silver elegant patterns. His chest was bare, revealing his broad muscles and winding blue tattoos that crossed down his arm. And over his left pectoral muscle was emblazoned the bold tattoo of a dark blue maze.

Hair, the color of the midnight sky, the same shade as his tattoos, flowed down around him and along his pale skin. A crown of silver sat atop his head. It resembled bones and the horns of deer, twisting together with vines and thorns.

Ava knew who he was on sight.

It was the bat wings, the huge and terrible bat wings that spread out behind him that really gave him away, though. The peaks of his wings were claws—she had missed that detail before. But now that she saw him in real life and not in illustrations, she saw they were almost like a second set of arms. The claws at the peaks had long fingers with dangerous talons.

He was beyond beautiful.

He was beyond terrifying.

He was grinning at her like she was lunch.

And he was holding the second shard in his hand.

Somewhere, through the panic and the pounding of her heart in her ears, Ava wondered how big of a metal object she had to drop on the guy to kill him. Or if it’d just piss him off. Or how much trouble she’d get in just for trying.

The newcomer studied the broken piece of mirror in his hand, turning it over as if it were the most boring, insignificant thing in the world to him. “You must be the little Ava Cole I have been hearing so much about these past two weeks.”

“And you must be the Unseelie King Valroy.”

“My reputation precedes me. I do love it when that happens.” He grinned. A flash of sharp fangs.

Cool. He was an egotistical dickwad. An obviously evil egotistical dickwad. Ava stood perfectly still, holding Book in her hands. Bitty was cowering behind her, clutching her backpack like it was a life raft.

But he was an obviously evil egotistical dickwad who could probably make Ava’s life really, really miserable if he wanted. So for once, she decided to try to keep her loose cannon of a mouth under control. For as long as she could manage it, anyway. “I assume you’re here to…kill me? Or…? Curse me?”

“Hardly!” He laughed, placing a palm to his chest. “Oh, my poor little human, you truly have had the worst time of it, haven’t you? Trapped here with all these miserable bastards and madmen. No, no, my dear—I have come here to save you.”

“Save. Me.” The words fell out of her mouth like they were foreign to her. They really kind of were, they made that little sense in context. “I’m sorry, it’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just that…”

“That you don’t believe me.” He shrugged with a smile, obviously not taking it personally. “And why would you? I am, after all, the bloodthirsty warlord that you’ve heard such wanton tales of horror about, I’m sure.” He passed the shard to the hand of his right wing, and crossed around the pedestal to approach her.

Ava stiffened but managed to keep from backing up in fear. “And you’re saying those tales aren’t true?” Holy shit, the guy was imposing. Him and Serrik could teach a class. Inspire Terror And Look Fabulous While Doing It.

“Oh no. They are quite true.” Where Serrik was stoic and empty of emotion, Valroy had no problem smiling. Or showing just how much devilishness burned away behind it. “I simply have a very good reason for wishing to spirit you out of this abode of the pathetic and exiled.”

“Which would be what?” Ava leaned back, trying to do everything she could just to put some space between them.

“You know very well what.” He took the wrist of her right arm and lifted it up in between them, showing off the beginnings of her tattoo. “I have a very distinct interest in ensuring you stay as you are now, little Ava Cole. And that the spider’s fangs sink no deeper into your flesh. Or that its Web makes no marks upon you.”

“Right. Well. Um. I know why that is, that’s the problem, and it’s not that I don’t, uh, appreciate the offer, it’s also that your plans to wipe out all of Earth…”

Valroy laughed again. It was shockingly kind, even if it was a bit like the laugh an adult gives a child when they say something particularly stupid, if harmless. He let go of her wrist but settled his hand on her shoulder instead. “Oh, Ava. That is not a fight for you to wage. Or a barricade for you to hold. You must worry about extricating yourself from this dilemma that others have placed you in. The Spider lured you into the Web. None of this was by your doing. None of this was your choice.”

That was true. Serrik had started this.

“And all you have seen here, all of it, has been nothing but the dregs of my people.” He gestured aimlessly around him. “Hardly providing you a fair assessment by which to judge.”

“I mean, just to be clear, I don’t want to help Serrik kill everybody. If there was a way out of this, I’m all for that. I just don’t know if—if—” She shut her eyes.

“Look at me, Ava.” With shocking tenderness, he turned her face to him. “It needn’t be this way. You needn’t suffer so. Reject this—all of this. This war is not yours.” His smile was suddenly cheeky and a little lopsided. “My wife does a plenty good job of reigning me in on her own.”

It all suddenly felt so hopeless. All of it. What hope did she have, standing up to someone like the creature in front of her? Or Serrik? She had no business getting in between them. Her shoulders slumped.

She was just Ava Cole.

A human.

A very tired human, who got mixed up in the wrong things.

She shouldn’t be here.

These creatures were basically demigods.

“The spider is manipulating you. Making you dance upon his threads. That is what he does best. And in you, he has a real chance of success. You are dangerous, Ava Cole. No one has ever been forced to intercede until now.” Valroy chuckled, as if that were some kind of compliment. “You will be a delight amongst the Din’Glai.”

“The what?”

“The Moonlit Court, dear.” He turned from her and started walking toward the other side of the room. With a gesture of his hand, a portal in space—a literal portal— tore open in front of him, swirling wide. He was still holding the key.

On the other side was a forest, bathed in moonlight, shimmering. It was beautiful. It looked…peaceful. And not like a twisted nightmare landscape of fucked-up horrors.

King Valroy turned to face her, and held a hand out to her. “Come with me, Ava Cole, to Tir n’Aill. Be forever free of the spider’s machinations. I will even let you bring that cowering little thing at your back, if you wish.”

She took a step toward the portal.

“Ava.” Serrik’s voice came from behind her, pushing into the waking world. She’d only seen him do it once before, when she first took the book from Gregor.

She cringed.

“You cannot trust him. You must not go!”

“I can’t trust you, either,” she muttered under her breath. “And he hasn’t fucked me over at least twice so far.”

“He calls to you. Beckons to you.” Valroy laughed. “Of course he does. Because he fears he will lose you, Ava. He knows that once you leave here, you will never have a reason to return. You will see the hospitality and generosity of my kind for what it is and see that he is wrong!”

That was a good point. She hesitated. “Will I be free to leave Tir-butt-fuckery if I want to? Whenever I want to? No contracts, no nothing?”

Valroy huffed a laugh. “Modern women and your language. I fear you and Alex will get along swimmingly. Void be kind upon the rest of us. Ava, my dear—do you not realize what has happened to you?”

She folded her arms across her chest. “I haven’t been given a lot of details. And what I have been given, I can’t trust.”

“Well, my sweet abomination.” He grinned viciously. “I am not sure if you will receive this as good news or not—but soon, no one could stop you from leaving Tir n’Aill if they tried.”

Ava blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Hm. Have they all been telling you that you have to finish unlocking the prison door to complete your transformation into the vessel of the Web?” In the perfect insultingly-fake-innocent tone, he gestured aimlessly up at the mirrored shard he was still holding in the talon of the wing. “I wonder why they would all lie to you about that. Odd…”

“Wait— what? ”

“Oh well.” He shrugged. “It is as though you might wish to speak to someone with first-hand experience on the matter. I wonder where you might find one of those.” He turned back to the portal, and stepped through it without another word.

“Wait!” Ava let out a loud snarl. “Fucking fae! ”

She had no choice.

She had to.

It was safer there.

Maybe.

Definitely?

Possibly.

And Valroy had answers.

Maybe.

Definitely?

Possibly.

“Don’t go ? —”

“I’m going, Bitty.” Ava headed for the portal. She didn’t know how much time she had. “I won’t make you come with me.”

“I—I— Ooohh— ” Bitty let out a long whine and flew after her, wings fluttering. “Ooh fuck!”

As Ava jumped through the portal, some part of her was a little proud that she had taught Bitty to swear.

And the last thing she heard was Serrik calling her name.

“Ava!”

Golden threads whipped through the air, slicing through ancient tomes as if they were nothing. The harpsichord lay in splinters, its strings snapped and curled like dying worms across the marble floor. Candles had been hurled against walls, leaving trails of melted wax like frozen tears.

Serrik stood in the center of the destruction, chest heaving, his perfect composure utterly shattered.

She was gone.

Gone.

Not dead. That perhaps would have been easier to grieve.

Not just hidden in some corner of the Web where his awareness could still reach her.

Not just avoiding his call or resisting their connection.

Gone. Taken beyond the boundaries of his prison into Tir n’Aill itself.

With Valroy.

Another surge of rage coursed through him, and a bookshelf across the room splintered, volumes tumbling to the floor like fallen soldiers. The golden threads that extended from his fingertips whipped and coiled, responding to his fury.

He had felt it happen. Had felt the exact moment when the connection between them stretched and thinned to almost breaking. He could no longer see her. Could no longer watch her. Hear her voice. Like a physical pain, the sudden strain had dropped him to his knees.

Eighteen hundred years of imprisonment and nothing had hurt quite like that moment.

“Valroy.” The name tore from his throat, echoing through his shattered sanctuary.

The King had been waiting for her. How had the King known where to find her? Find the shard? How? Serrik must have missed something—his focus must have been elsewhere, on Ava.

But the details no longer mattered. Because however it was that Valroy had come, he had not needed to trick Ava. Had not needed to drag her from there, kicking and screaming.

Ava had gone willingly.

That knowledge burned in him. She had chosen Valroy. Had rejected Serrik’s guidance, his plans, everything he’d offered her. Had turned away from what they were becoming together.

“Butterfly,” he whispered, the rage momentarily giving way to something more devastating. Something he had not permitted himself to feel in centuries. “Why?”

Loss.

“Sentiment,” he spat, the word like poison on his tongue. “Weakness.”

And yet the pain remained, a hollow ache that all his power could not fill.

He moved to the shattered window that overlooked the impossible landscape of his prison. Beyond the Web, beyond the boundaries of his awareness, she was now in Valroy’s court. The Unseelie King would be charming, of course. Would show her wonders and terrors beyond imagination. Would offer her a thousand temptations, all designed to bind her to his will.

And Valroy would lie. Not in the straightforward way of humans, with their clumsy falsehoods, but in the insidious fae manner—truths twisted and folded until they became more dangerous than any fabrication.

Would she see through Valroy’s charms as she had seen through his own? Or would she be dazzled by the dark splendor of Tir n’Aill, seduced by its ancient magics and unearthly beauty?

The thought of her standing beside Valroy’s throne, her skin adorned with the Web’s patterns as she became its vessel under his guidance…as she inevitably took lover after lover.

Perhaps even found a soulmate amongst the courts.

Someone else to guide her form.

The window exploded outward, glass raining down into the void below.

This was more than strategic failure. More than the derailment of a plan millennia in the making.

He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the unfamiliar constriction there. For centuries, he had sustained himself on hatred alone—cold, clarifying hatred that had given purpose to his endless existence. Hatred was a simple emotion. Reliable. Constant.

This new feeling was none of those things. It was chaotic, unpredictable, almost human in its messiness. It made him want to tear the Web apart with his bare hands. It made him want to burn Tir n’Aill to ash, not for vengeance or freedom, but simply to bring her back.

But such a thing was not possible.

Unless.

The Web around him trembled, responding to his emotional state. In the distance, lightning forked across the perpetual twilight sky. Trees bent and groaned as if in a hurricane. The very fabric of his prison strained as his control—maintained with such discipline for centuries—began to fray.

She is not only becoming this place. This place is becoming her, more and more…and through it, just perhaps…

But to wield such a thing against her is beyond cruel.

He had never intended this. Had never factored emotions into his careful equations.

Ava was supposed to be a weapon. A vessel. A means of channeling the Web’s power to shatter the boundaries between worlds, allowing him to finally exact his vengeance on those who had imprisoned him.

But what other choices did he have?

None.

In seeking to free her mind, she had forced his hand.

“This changes nothing,” he told himself, even as he began to plot the way ahead. “The plan remains. Valroy will fall. The courts will burn. She shall become the Web and my weapon of destruction.”

But beneath those words was a new truth.

He wanted her back. Not just for his plans. Not just for the power she carried.

For himself.

For what they might become together.

But he would not leave her in Valroy’s hands. Would not abandon her to the Unseelie King’s manipulations.

He would not lose her.

For he did not know what would be left of him in the end if he did.

To Be Continued