FORTY-NINE
SAGE
“There she is.” Astrid smiles as I move away from the rock. “I thought I smelled you, newblood. How did you like the show?”
“A bit melodramatic,” I say, hoping my voice isn’t shaking.
“Sage,” Faelan says, sounding helpless. He shakes his head. “Just run.”
“Oh, she can’t leave her crush,” Astrid says. “She’d ruin the story.”
I give her a plastic grin. “I’m so going to hurt you, bitch,” I say. “Lots of pain.” And I mean every word. I’ve never in my life wanted to strangle someone so badly. I think this is what it feels like to be willing to kill. I’d be very okay with her not making it out of here alive.
“Aren’t you precious,” she scoffs. But her lip twitches like she’s bluffing. “It’s so good of you to join us.”
“Get your ass off him,” I say. “Now.”
“Are you going to smite me, fire whore?” Her eyes fall to my chest.
“No torque,” I say. “You picked the wrong day to mess with me, bitch.”
But she laughs, like she’s got the upper hand. And then she places her palm on the ground.
“Run, Sage!” Faelan shouts.
A thick vine bursts out of the ground near my foot, scraping up my leg, curling around my hips, my waist, cutting into my sides in seconds. I try to jerk away, to pull free, but the vine holds, cuts into my skin. The growth branches off, capturing my wrists. And I’m stuck.
“Oops,” Astrid says, laughing again. She slides off Faelan’s lap and stands, then walks over to me.
My energy stirs in my chest, heating, but I hesitate. I’m not sure I know how to focus it yet. And she’s still too close to Faelan. I could kill him right along with her. If I can just burn away the vine—
A metal shackle clicks around my neck, latching from behind me. My energy presses at my skin, trapped. And Ben comes up beside me, giving me a shrug.
Astrid’s smile stiffens. “Double oops.” She’s a foot taller than I am, athletic, her striking features heightened by the glow of her white-blond hair.
I want to rip her perfect face off.
“I know you’re fond of your protector,” she says, her voice dripping with pity. “Such a shame. You realize that it’s never going to happen with him, right?” She looks me over, then glances at Faelan. “She’s barely a woman, my love. You weren’t seriously entertaining her childish infatuation, were you?”
She steps closer, holding up her hand and moving it around me like she’s feeling the air. She breathes out a derisive laugh. “The girl’s a virgin. How much will you wager you were her first kiss, lover?”
“Enough with the messing around, Astrid,” Ben says, sounding annoyed. “Let’s just get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”
“We still need the wizard,” she says.
“You already stabbed the crazy bastard. And we were running in circles looking for him for more than an hour before these idiots showed up.”
Stabbed? Lailoken didn’t look stabbed.
“His scent isn’t right,” Astrid says. “He’s probably masking it.” But she’s still looking me over, like she’s searching for a weakness.
“We don’t need him,” Ben says, “we’ve got the girl.”
“The monk has to die,” she snaps. “Princess Mara was very clear on that.”
“Why?” he asks, sounding done with it all. She shouldn’t have picked a twentysomething frat-boy shade for a sidekick.
“Just get the ivory bowl out of the pack,” she says, ignoring him. “Stop being such a child.”
Ben grumbles, then walks past me and starts digging in a bag by his foot.
I twist my wrists, trying to see how tight the vines are. There’s a little give, but not much.
Ben pulls a bone-white bowl out of the bag and walks it over to Astrid. “Can’t we just do this when we get back?”
She snatches the bowl from him. “I’m not traveling with him linked to her, dumbass.”
My mind races, trying to figure out what she means.
She steps over to Faelan and squats down, holding the bowl against his chest. She turns to look at me with stony eyes. “You better hope he fed before he came running for you. This takes a lot of blood.” She lifts the blade of her knife to his neck. “And he’s not like you, Daughter of Fire. He’s been cast off from his power source. So if this boy loses too much, he can die.”
Real panic hits me then, and I jerk against the vines holding me captive. “No! Don’t you dare!”
Her lips twist in a horrible smile.
She swipes with a quick flick of her wrist, like she’s finishing off an animal.
Faelan’s mouth opens, his throat moves, and his eyes widen. But he’s silent. His blood flows into the bowl, soon spilling over the edge.
My heartbeat thunders inside me. Fury beginning a storm.
A storm that can’t go anywhere.
Except . . . something tickles behind my eyes. And I smell sulfur. It’s not fire; it’s not the same as my other energy. It’s dark and horrible.
“Thank you, lover,” she whispers to Faelan. Then she moves away and turns to me, the bowl of Faelan’s blood cupped in her palm. There’s blood all over her hands and arms too. She looks like a crazy Serial Killer Barbie. “I was going to do this once Mara put you under,” she says to me, “but now you’ll have to be wide awake.”
From behind her, Faelan gasps for air. But I can’t take my eyes off her bloody hands. Faelan’s blood. Rage scrapes inside my skull. I want to rip her heart from her chest.
She raises the knife and puts the blade to my neck, just under the torque; it’s still warm. Her green eyes lock on mine. “And it really, really hurts to get a protector bond torn out.” Satisfaction fills her gaze as she looks into me. But then something catches her eye, and she focuses on my hands.
She cringes. “What . . . is that?”
Ben goes still, looking at me. “That’s not right.”
I turn to try and see what they’re looking at and spot threads of black smoke leaking from my fingertips. What the hell?
“That’s not supposed to happen,” Ben says. “She’s a fire demi.”
“Get this thing off me,” I growl.
They both jerk back like the sound of my voice physically hit them.
“Her eyes,” Astrid whispers. “They’re gold.”
Ben just shakes his head, seemingly terrified by something in my gaze. “We should hurry and bleed her.”
Astrid steps back in front of me, pressing the blade to my throat again.
I stare at her stupid flawless face and snarl, “I’m going to ki—”
She swipes the blade. Pressure fills my head, my eyes widening, my throat closing.
My heartbeat thunders. I can’t hear Faelan’s labored breathing anymore. All I hear is my hammering pulse and a raven crying in the distance. Everything else is going dim. I barely feel the cut, the loss of blood. Pain doesn’t exist.
My mind goes still, and a buzz starts in my hands. The stirring behind my eyes prickles again, more determined. The blood running over my shoulder, sliding down my chest, it doesn’t feel right. It isn’t warm.
It’s cold.
Astrid is standing several feet away now. She’s watching me with terror on her face.
“Take . . . it . . . off,” I choke out, straining at my bonds.
“How is this happening?” Ben asks, his voice quivering.
“She’s manifesting like a Morrígan,” Astrid says. “But her eyes . . .”
“She’s an abomination.” Ben steps closer, pulling out a large dagger. “We need to get her head off.”
“Don’t touch her!” Astrid rushes forward, reaching out to stop him.
But it’s too late. He grips my hair, tipping my head a little, readying the blade to cut.
And the black smoke seeping from my hands slides in his direction, curling around his neck in quick threads.
He stiffens, the knife falling from his fist. His mouth opens in a silent scream, eyes widening as ice crawls across his gaping face, spreading from where the smoke touches, the crystals growing, clouding his wide eyes. The buzzing in my hands radiates into my arms, my chest, shaking my bones as red mist drifts from Ben’s mouth into the air, on a hiss of breath.
The body crumples in on itself, wilting like a dying flower, collapsing to the forest floor with a crackle of frozen flesh. I stare down at his broken body, feeling nothing.
The torque that he locked around my neck strains, then snaps with a loud clink.
Instantly the chill in my blood sinks away, the strange dark threads of energy dissipating.
My skin warms, then heats, the torn flesh on my neck shifting and tightening. Healing. The familiar pulse of my power fills my chest, then spills out, coating my skin. Fire flickers at my fingertips. The yellow and orange flames move over my torso, down my arms, snapping at the air with a steady hiss, turning the vines holding me to ash. As I step free, the fire slinks over the ground to Ben, and crawls up his legs, the dead body of the shade becoming a blaze.
Astrid is shaking her head in disbelief, backing away.
I barely believe it myself.
Something moves in the shadows beside her. A raven.
“Danu, save us,” Astrid whispers. And then she turns in a rush, grabbing her bow and running toward the trees. Running right into Kieran. His shoulders still seep black smoke from his transformation.
He grabs her by the neck before she can get past him. “Leaving so soon?”
“She’s an abomination!” Astrid gasps. “She broke the torque, manifested—there was smoke, black veins. She has Princess Lily’s eyes!”
“I know,” he says, like she’s dense. And then he drags her back to stand in front of me, gripping her neck.
I struggle to focus myself, trying to calm my nerves, trying to pull the fire back. It settles and sinks into my skin again, but the heat keeps swirling with my anger. “Where have you been?” I demand. “If you hadn’t noticed, we could’ve used help.”
“I’ve been watching,” he says. He admires me for a second, like he’s enjoying all of this. “I’ve been in the trees, my love, waiting for my moment. You’re doing a brilliant job, by the way.” He turns back to Astrid and says, “Now, explain to the princess why you’re attempting to destroy her.”
As soon as he lets go, she crumples to her knees. “I wouldn’t hurt her! Please, mistress,” she says, suddenly contrite. “Have mercy. I’m a simple servant, an underling of no consequence.”
I ignore her pleading and hurry to Faelan’s side. I take in the hole in his chest, skin streaked with blood, his hair matted with it, the gaping wound on his neck . . . His eyes are closed, his lips pressed together, as if he’s holding in a scream.
“Oh, God, please no,” I whisper, trying to untie the rope binding his wrists. “You’re okay, Faelan, you’ll be okay now.” But the knot won’t come undone. “Kieran, get the torque unlocked!” I yell. “Hurry!”
He squats on the other side of Faelan, then swipes some blood onto the rim of the torque. It falls away, and Kieran tosses it aside, pulls out his knife, and cuts the bonds. He frowns, watching me warily as I cup Faelan’s cheek, touch his forehead.
“Can you hear me, Faelan?” I ask. “Come on, wake up. I’m right here. Please.” I study his chest, his neck, but nothing happens. I turn to Kieran. “Why isn’t he waking up?”
Kieran just looks at me.
“What do we do?” I shake Faelan’s arm. Why is he so cold?
“He’s not strong enough,” Kieran says, his voice flat.
“What? No. Of course he is.” I grip his shoulder. He’s fine. He has to be. “Faelan, come back. Wake up!”
“He’s not going to wake up, Sage,” Kieran says.
“Shut up!” I scream, my voice cracking with pain. And then I go back to shaking Faelan’s arm. He’ll wake up. He has to wake up. He’s a demigod, like me. Astrid was lying when she said he could die, she was trying to scare me. Now Kieran’s just being evil. This is his fault, anyway—if he’d helped instead of watching . . .
No, it’s my fault. I should’ve just used my power, but I hesitated.
I hesitated. And now . . .
No. “Come on, Faelan,” I whisper, resting my head on his shoulder.
“You care for him deeply,” Kieran says, his voice tight.
I don’t say anything. I can’t believe this is real.
He seems to be considering something. And then he shifts, slipping his knife into his boot. “Move away,” he says, his tone stiff.
But I can’t. I can’t move. “Please wake up, Faelan.”
“Sage,” Kieran says. “You must move if I’m to draw his spirit back.”
I sit up, staring at him, wondering if I heard him right. His features blur, becoming the familiar face of my king, the green of our surroundings fading to white. Tears streak my cheeks, and I smell ice. But the air around me is warm. It’s a dream filtering through. “What are you saying?”
He ignores my question and says again, “Move away, Sage. There is a time limit to this.”
I blink, and he’s Kieran, surrounded by green, his features tight. He nudges me back from Faelan’s side. “You can’t touch me, or him, as I do this. And I’m going to need to feed when it’s done.” He glances behind me to Astrid. “Speak up if you have any ideas on a victim,” he says.
I obey, moving back.
He closes his eyes and rests his hand over Faelan’s heart.
My pulse stutters as the silver and black smoke lifts from Kieran’s chest, swirling and trailing down his arm. The scent of roses fills the space between us just before the familiar snap of mint bites at the air. The moss and grass around us shift from rich green to brown.
Faelan’s hand twitches, and the flesh on his neck begins to move, sliding back into place as his wounds seal.
I look over at Kieran, opening my mouth to thank him but the words die in my throat. His pale skin is violet and dark circles rim his eyes. He mutters something I can’t hear and then goes limp, collapsing beside Faelan.
“Kieran!” I lunge forward.
“Feed,” he whispers.
“Okay, take from me.” I move so that he can hold my arm or something, get his hands on bare skin.
He shakes his head. He moves his hand a little, like he’s trying to point, and I know he’s directing me to Astrid.
“You’ll kill her, Kieran.”
“Good.”
While I was all for it a few minutes ago, I’m not sure I can kill her now that she’s pleading for her life.
Before I can wrap my head around what to do, Astrid is suddenly scrambling up, taking off, running for the shadow of the trees as she sees her chance to escape with Kieran weakened.
Shit.
But before I can even stand to chase after her, she crumples in the ferns.
Kieran releases a low chuckle beside me. “Tethered her spirit to mine.”
The snap and crack of bending and breaking branches rises into the clearing. Astrid’s screeches of protest follow as the grass and ferns shift, and Astrid is dragged back by an invisible hand, kicking and flailing through the trees until she’s sliding up to Kieran’s side.
As soon as his fingers catch her ankle, Astrid chokes on her screams. Kieran pulls himself up, crawling over her like a beast, straddling her, gripping her neck. He leans in, getting almost nose to nose with her as thick black smoke threads from his arms.
“You,” he growls. “You shouldn’t have touched her.” The black smoke coming from him thickens, coating her body, wrapping around her arms and her chest like a spider’s trap as she gapes at his pale face.
Then he sucks in a quick breath, and a strangled gasp pulls from Astrid’s throat. Her body jerks, back arching, eyes wide, mouth wide.
A red mist bursts from her skin where the black touches. Ice forms at her neck, crawling up her jaw with a crackle, the same as it did to Ben. She stills, her body settling back into the moss, breath continuing to hiss from her lungs.
Kieran moves off her, his own chest heaving. I can’t take my eyes off the red dots of Astrid’s blood speckling his face.