A Battle of Blood and Stone

by Sawyer Bennett

  “That’s a whole lot of maybes that could get your ass killed,” Maddox mutters.

  I shrug. “If you have better ones, I’m all for it. But right now, I’m the only one coming up with ideas. I say we bring Boral fully on board and tell him everything, let me reach out to Zora, and put me in the ring with Kymaris.”

  Zaid and Maddox both look a little abashed because I am the only one coming up with ideas. It was my idea to test Boral too. I feel like I’m actually a leader in Carrick’s absence, although I’m not really leading us anywhere.

  “Let’s put aside all those things for a moment,” Zaid says, leaning his forearms against the counter. He’s dressed in his typical black from head to toe, and I have the insane urge to buy him a funky, bright colored sweater. “Let’s say we can find the demi-god who wrote about the chalice and the Blood Stone and we can make it into the realm where it’s being held—what would we be facing?”

  I’ve actually given a lot of thought to this because we must get that chalice and the Blood Stone at all costs. “Carrick read that Micah drank his own tears from the chalice, and it transformed him into a monster. And we don’t know when this occurred, only the most recent translation was in the common era. He could have been doing that for thousands of years. I’m not sure I want to think about what we could be facing.”

  “We need a show of force going in,” Zaid says with a grim expression.

  “Me, Carrick, Lucien,” Maddox says, raising fingers on his hands as he counts names, “Finley, Zaid, and we’d want Titus, too. That’s six.”

  “Not enough.” I shake my head. “We need more. I say we bring Boral.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” Zaid says in an uncharacteristic burst of foul language. “Will you let it be with my father?”

  “What about Pyke?” Maddox suggests. “He has powers, and he’s always fought alongside Carrick through the ages.”

  “But can we trust him?” I ask. I’m rewarded with Maddox and Zaid roaring with laughter at my expense.

  Zaid’s laughing so hard, tears start leaking out of his sunken eyes. He wipes at them, still snickering. “You trust my father, but you ask if we can trust Pyke?”

  “I’d trust Pyke a million times over Boral,” Maddox adds, still chuckling.

  Being the butt of their jokes pisses me off, so I’m growling when I say, “Look… we’re getting down to the wire. A month until this ritual, and we’ve got to start making some risky moves. We need more help. So, unless you two boneheads have better ideas, I say we bring both Pyke and Boral onto the team.”

  Maddox opens his mouth as if to say something, but Zaid’s phone rings. He answers it, listens, and says, “You can send him up.”

  That was obviously the concierge in the lobby letting us know Boral is here. He doesn’t have the passcode to get up the private elevator, nor will he ever be given it. I know they think I trust Boral, but I don’t. I merely trust he wants to help his son right now, and there’s great loyalty there. I intend to use it.

  We lapse into silence, not willing to discuss our consortium of prophecy busters with Boral on the way up. Until otherwise said, he’s still more enemy than friend.

  The elevator doors slide open, and I call out, “We’re in the kitchen.”

  Boral appears and gives a tight smile to Maddox, a warmer smile to his son, and, to me, a genial nod as he murmurs my name, “Finley.”

  “Anything good to report?” I ask as I tap the stool beside me.

  It’s weird to think that I’m actually inviting a Dark Fae—who has probably killed thousands of people for no more reason than it was fun—to sit beside me so we can chat.

  God, my life has changed so drastically these past three months.

  Boral takes the stool offered, then swivels it to face me. Over the last few weeks, it’s clear I’m the only one who truly tolerates him, and his attention always comes to me to report.

  “Kymaris has eleven original fallen Dark Fae collected now,” he says succinctly. “I’ve heard she’s in southeast Asia with a lead on one that will give her twelve.”

  My eyes cut to Maddox, then to Zaid, as if to say, See… if Boral were feeding her info, she would have gone to the address we slipped him rather than traipse off to Asia.

  “Any more information on what purpose the twelve serve?” I ask, although I know they will supposedly be a conduit according to what Boral told us before.

  He shakes his head. “I only know Kaesar has said she’s promised the twelve that they will become her highest-ranking nobles when it’s all over.”

  Something about his tone perks my interest. “You sound as if you doubt that?”

  Boral leans his elbow on the counter, his back now fully to Maddox. He ignores his son, who stands on the other side of the island. “Kymaris isn’t exactly the most trustworthy fae I’ve ever known. She has no true loyalty to anyone, even those that give it to her blindly.”

  See… right there. In my heart, I know Boral is an asset we can’t do without, and I know he can better serve us if he fully understands what’s going on.

  I bring my gaze to Zaid, pointedly conveying that we need more of his help. I lean to the side to see past Boral and over to Maddox, giving him the same.

  “It’s time,” I say to both men as I bring my gaze back to the Dark Fae sitting beside me. I’m not talking to him, but it’s his eyes I’m focused on. “It’s time we tell him more.”

  I’m surprised when I don’t get immediate denials from Zaid or Maddox, and I cut them glances. Neither one is looking at me, eyes averted downward.

  Boral is clearly confused. “Tell me more? What more?”

  “There’s a lot more,” I say as I try to calm the racing of my heart. I’m not getting push back from Zaid or Maddox, which means their silence is an acquiescence.

  Now that I have it, I have to be incredibly careful and deliberate in what I’m about to tell Boral because certain things must remain secret. For example, my powers. I don’t want him to know I have a light inside of me that will hopefully be tapped so I can use it to my advantage. But I do need him to know I’m at the center of the prophecy and the key to stopping it so we can have him find out what my part in the ritual is.

  I don’t want him to know about my sister being an identical twin, but he’s going to need to know I want to travel to the Underworld for something important to me.

  One last look at Zaid and Maddox. Both men are now focused on me. While I can see they aren’t going to fight me, they don’t like this move.

  Tough shit. No one else is stepping up to make the hard calls.

  Giving my attention back to Boral, I take a deep breath and let it out. “Okay… there are some things we know about what’s going on with Kymaris that we need to bring you up to speed on, in the hopes you can get us some more detailed information. The first thing you need to know—”

  “You better fucking stop right there, Miss Porter,” comes from behind me, and I go dizzy with recognition at that voice.

  I swivel around slowly on my stool to see Carrick striding into the kitchen. My eyes hungrily take him in, quickly ensuring he looks healthy and whole. I want to slap him for that Miss Porter dig, an effort to make me feel like I’m a child playing in the big leagues and I’m not allowed on his team.

  Mostly, though, I want to kiss him.

  His gaze locks on to me, and it seems like we stare at each other forever with the rest of the world melting away. I’ve spent weeks lying in bed at night, imagining all the things we would talk about when he gets back. Yet, at this moment, my tongue is completely tied.

  Slowly, his attention moves to Boral as he comes to stand beside my stool. I merely tip my head back to continue to stare at him as he stays focused on the Dark Fae. “Apparently, Finley seems to think you’re ready to come on board with our team.”

  Phew… no more Miss Porter.

  “I trust her judgment, but I’d never let her tell you anything unless you agree to a binding,” he adds.


  I wince because I never once thought of that. When I shoot Maddox a scowl, I can tell by his sheepish expression that he never thought to offer it either.

  “A binding,” Boral drawls slowly, and I can see the interest in the offer is deep. He knows it must be a phenomenal story if Carrick is insisting on a binding.

  “Not a regular binding, though,” Carrick murmurs. While his tone is soft, it’s coldly menacing. “I want your heart instead of your tongue if you betray our secrets.”

  That gets my tongue loosened, and I jerk in shock. “You can do that? Take his heart rather than his tongue? Why didn’t you do that for Nimeyah?”

  Carrick’s eyes move lazily toward me, and the smile he gives me says he thinks I’m adorable right now. I try to suppress a growl.

  “A binding is usually of the tongue, but it can be something that provides a little more incentive to keep secrets. Whereas Nimeyah’s vanity was enough to make losing a tongue too horrendous to break her promise, I imagine Boral here would go on with life simply fine without one. It’s the promise of his heart I want before we say another word to him.”

  Geez… that’s a big request. It’s a lot to think about. I imagine—

  “I accept,” Boral says, and all of our heads snap his way. He didn’t even need to consider it at all, and that confirms that my gut instincts were right about him.

  Boral is looking squarely at his son, though. “I’ll gladly give Carrick my heart if I betray your secrets.”

  Something about that actually warms my heart a little, although Zaid merely scoffs and turns his back on his father, fiddling with the coffee pot instead.

  “Deal,” Carrick replies, and just like that, the spell is enacted. “But it’s going to have to wait as I have more important things to handle right now.”

  Before I can even comprehend what’s happening, Carrick grabs my hand and bends distance, my stomach flipping at the sudden movement and the stretch across space. He doesn’t bring us far, though.

  Merely to the library. It takes no time at all before he pulls me into his body and hugs me hard.

  CHAPTER 6

  Finley

  I return the hug, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my face into his chest. He smells clean and comforting, and every bit of anger I’d been harboring while he was gone evaporates as my overwhelming relief pushes it out.

  Carrick’s hand goes into my hair. He grips and pulls my head back so I’m staring at him.

  His eyes are burning like pots of molten gold. “I have thought about doing this every minute of every day.”

  It’s all the warning I get before his mouth comes down on mine, and even though it steals the breath right from my lungs, I sink into that familiarity with no hesitation. The kiss speaks to me in so many ways. Carrick is saying he’s so deeply sorry for laying such heavy stuff on my doorstep, only to get whisked away before we could discuss it.

  The kiss speaks loudly to how much he missed me, and I even taste worry on his tongue.

  The relief I feel from him at the mere claiming of my lips is overwhelming, and my heart even hurts a little for his worry. If he’d been somewhere where he couldn’t get any information about what was going on back here, he must have been going mad.

  With a sigh of regret, he pulls his mouth from mine. With my hair still wrapped in his hand, he just holds me immobile, taking the time to let his eyes roam over my face and then finally to my eyes.

  There was a time when I thought the color of my eyes angered him, and, given the despondency he had felt at times upon my subsequent reincarnations, I can understand it. But now he regards them as if they’re the most precious jewels one could possess.

  Finally, he relaxes his hold on me and smiles. “I need you to fill me in on everything that’s happened since I’ve been gone.”

  “I will,” I assure him. “But where have you been?”

  “Doing a little job for Rune is all,” he murmurs and I know it’s a lie. There’s no doubt in my mind he was with Rune and had no choice but to do whatever it was that Rune demanded, but it wasn’t just a little job of no consequence. I can hear the slight tinge of anger in Carrick’s voice. Given all that Rune has done to him, I know if Carrick ever had the ability to kill a god, he’d take Rune out in a heartbeat.

  I do as Carrick asks as we stand closely, face to face, his hand still at the back of my head. His forehead creases several times with worry as I give him the watered-down version of events.

  That I’ve been working on tapping my powers, but it’s been a big bust, although I’ve got the cutest little bubble shield I can pop up around me. That we’ve found no information on the demi-god who wrote Libri Mysteria, nor any further info on the specifics of the ritual other than Boral’s report today that Kymaris now has eleven original fallen Dark Fae.

  “What’s this I hear about a wraith attacking you?” he asks, his frown at its deepest.

  “Clearly, you got some information wherever you were,” I hedge.

  He just stares at me, refusing to let me slide by.

  With a sigh, I tell him about our trip to Hungary to search for the relic that could help get us to Micah’s realm, then all about the wraith.

  In the end, he’s not all that angry at me for going. With a thoughtful expression, he bolsters my confidence that I might have at least had some good ideas while he was gone. “We do need Boral to do more for us so it’s a good call to give him more information. He’s our best source so far.”

  I don’t tell him about the two things that I really want—to make another attempt at reaching Zora and that I suggested to Maddox and Zaid that I go head-to-head with Kymaris.

  The Kymaris issue would only serve to make Carrick think I was an idiot and no kind of leader, and the Zora issue is moot at this moment. I will, however, bring it up to him again when the timing is right.

  It only takes us about ten minutes to catch up on my end, then both his hands go to my face. He bends, peering into my eyes. “And how are you holding up? Especially with everything I had told you before Rune took me away?”

  The tender words threaten to undo me because I’ve had a spine of steel since he’s been gone. Now that he’s here, I just want to melt into a puddle of indifference for a while and let Carrick take complete charge of everything.

  I really, really want a break.

  So, I answer by snaking a hand to the back of his neck as I go to my tiptoes, and stare into those honeyed eyes. Life is too short, so I kiss him.

  And it’s an amazing kiss when he responds, but it’s also short-lived as he pulls away. His eyes on mine, he chastises, “More of that later. Now I want to know how you’re holding up.”

  I sigh, part irritation that he stopped the kiss, part avoidance of something I’ve been trying not to think about but mostly because I know I’ll have to comply because Carrick won’t let this go.

  I finally admit, “I have a lot of jumbled-up feelings and a million questions, but I really just want you to take me to your bedroom and let’s get lost in each other for a while. We can talk later.”

  Carrick doesn’t reply. I can tell part of him wants to force me to talk.

  But the greatest part of him is more intrigued by my request to go to his bedroom. He merely bends distance to his room, swirls me in a pearly gray tornado of magic that divests us of our clothing, and deposits us squarely under the sheets of his bed.

  “Very convenient,” I manage to giggle before his body rolls over onto mine and his mouth starts to tell me the story about how we’ve loved each other through eternity all over again.

  * * *

  I’ve had moments throughout my life that have been impactful. Events I wish I could revisit and live over again. People who have made my life complete.

  But lying here in this bed, Carrick spooned at my back and his arm holding me close to him, I can’t think of anything in my life that has ever felt better. In fact, if I were to die, I hope it’s just like this.

  Except, given wha
t I know so far about my fate and prophecy, it’s not going to happen in bed with Carrick but in a battle to the death with Kymaris.

  At least, that’s the odds on the favorite scenario.

  “You’re quiet,” Carrick observes, pressing his lips into the back of my head. “Did I break you?”

  “Never,” I assure him, although I will feel deliciously used in the morning. “But I sort of feel like we’re back on that patio just before Rune came and snatched you away, and you had just laid that bombshell on me. I haven’t been able to process it yet.”

  Carrick shifts, putting space between us, then forces me to roll over so we can look at each other. “Let’s process it now. Because I’ve hardly thought of anything else in the last three weeks.”

  Placing my hand on his naked chest, I stare at the hollow of his throat before lifting my gaze to his. “I read your journals. Not all of them, but I flipped through a lot since we first met. I couldn’t find any mentions of me.”

  “To keep you safe,” Carrick replies.

  I nod and smile. “Zaid told me the same. He’s tried to help me through this, as have Rainey and Myles, but… I just didn’t want to talk to them. I only wanted to talk to you.”

  “I’m here,” he says quietly. “Let’s talk about anything you want.”

  I should have written down all the questions that have been buzzing around my brain for the last three weeks and put them in an orderly fashion. But I didn’t, so my first question is completely random.

  “How old was I when Rune killed me in front of you?” I ask.

  “Twenty-five,” he says softly. “You were young when we met, fell in love, and married, but that’s the way it was back then. At eighteen, you were of an age where you should have been married off. It’s only because your father loved you so much that he didn’t want to force you into a loveless match and you apparently had plenty of suitors seeking your hand.”

  “That’s just so archaic. It’s hard to imagine me living in that time.”

  “You were a lot more progressive than the other females of your time,” Carrick says with a chuckle. “You were rebellious, rambunctious, fearless, didn’t listen to reason, and never asked for help. You definitely weren’t the type to swoon over a big hulking Viking trying to molest you.”