“I saw you standing over a body, bathed in blood and pulling out someone’s heart. A human heart. Not even a demon worthy of fighting.”
“That’s, that’s….” Entirely possible. “I’m sure I had a good reason.”
In the early days, when I’d first arrived in Victorian London, there had been some bad men around. Men who killed prostitutes and poor children. I’d been there to clean them up.
But I could see how it looked bad. I had to wonder why he’d let me live at all—a rogue fae, covered in human blood.
“Until that point,” he added, “I was sure you were as noble and strong as your mother.”
I felt my heart squeeze. “Why were you so devoted to my mother? You’re a demigod. Why defer to a fae queen?”
“Your mother killed someone I loathed.”
“Who?”
“Your father.” His blue eyes opened a crack, and he looked at me.
“Ah, yes. Lots of people hated him. That was her favorite bedtime story for me. It was how she put me to sleep every night. A lullaby, then the story about the time she murdered my dad.”
“I want to hear it.”
I sighed. I knew it by heart, so it wouldn’t even distract me from my death grip on the steering wheel. “On her wedding day, she dressed in beautiful gossamer, with a crown of pearls and cockleshells on her head. Just before the ceremony, my father showed up to find her.”
Sometimes, when I talked about the old days, my accent shifted back. I lost the American twang, started to sound a little Cornish again.
“She was madly in love with my father: Gradlon, King of Ys,” I went on. “So, she was happy to see him, even though it was bad luck before the wedding. She was pregnant with me, already showing. Except he wasn’t there for love. He’d already found a new lover—a younger and prettier one. A richer one. And he didn’t want a child anyway. What if I took his throne one day? What if I was a boy? So, he put his hands around my mother’s throat, and he tried to take off her head with his bare hands.”
Silence filled the car for a moment.
“But my mother killed him instead. She cut his heart out with a dagger and left it on the banquet table, where it dried out. She left his bones there as well. She took his crown, his armies, and ruled Ys. She presided over the golden age of Ys—the best art, the most prosperity. And she never took off her wedding dress, stained with his blood. She raised me with one lesson burned into my mind. Don’t trust anyone—but especially don’t trust men. At the time, I thought she was mistaken. But when I got to London in the 1800s, I saw things that would make even your blood curdle.”
Lyr was listening attentively.
“And that’s how I knew my mother was right. There are wolves all around us. Wolves who’d kill you as soon as they got the chance.”
And that was why I’d be keeping the dagger as close to me as possible. Because sometimes the wolves were very beautiful indeed.
“And why did you hate my dad so deeply? Besides the fact that he was a psycho?”
But Lyr didn’t answer. Instead, he closed his eyes, seeming to retreat into himself. Pretending to sleep, perhaps.
I stared at the dark road ahead of me. The more we talked about the old days of Ys, the more I longed for my former powers. That long-buried hunger was stirring again, the lust for power.
Yesterday, I hadn’t known the Athame of Meriadoc existed. Now, I wanted nothing more than to possess it, to feel its power charging my body.
* * *
I passed about ten gas stations and a few factories, but I wasn’t going to find a human habitation as long as I stayed on the main road. So, after a half hour of driving, I turned off of it.
The buildings in this town all looked alike: square, concrete apartment buildings. Balconies jutted beneath small windows, and laundry hung from them in the open air.
I drove slowly along the road. Some of the windows had metal grates over them to keep out burglars. Humans cared about security, but they were often careless. If I was patient enough, I’d find someone who’d left a door or a window open.
I rolled along the street slowly, scanning the balcony for any doors open just a crack.
A car pulled up behind me, honking frantically. Apparently, I was driving too slowly.
I cursed under my breath and took a left, hoping that I’d suddenly turn onto a street with a dark, comfortable home and an open door.
Instead, I found the next best thing.
On the right side of the road, construction had stopped for the night on a tall apartment building. Now, that was as perfect as we were going to get. No doors to stop us.
I rolled over the rubble outside, pulling up next to some rows of concrete blocks. There wasn’t much light here. In a ground-floor apartment across the street, a TV glowed blue through one of the windows, and a streetlight flickered above us.
A woman stood outside the apartment, smoking. But her eyes were on the ground, and she wasn’t paying any attention to us. I watched as she flicked her cigarette, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
I touched Lyr’s leg to wake him. It took a moment for his eyes to open, then he stared at my hand on his thigh.
I yanked it away. “Good. You’re still alive. I found us a spot to rest and heal.”
He frowned at the empty building. “It will suffice.”
“Great, because we don’t have tons of options.”
The car door creaked when I opened it, and I winced as the glass in my rear tore at my skin. I tugged up my damp dress as I stepped out of the car so I wouldn’t trip on it, ragged as it was. I looked over my shoulder at my backside, and I saw blood streaking down my thighs, staining the blue fabric. The bloodstained gown reminded me of Mama.
I grimaced as I started hobbling into the building. How was I going to deal with the shattered-glass-in-my-bum situation? I could heal myself reasonably well, but not until I got the glass shards out.
When I glanced at Lyr, I saw that he was in much worse shape than I was, and the gash across his shoulder had split open a bit. The black bullet hole still marked the center of his chest, just over his heart. I felt an unwelcome sense of guilt for shooting him.
Before we crossed through the empty doorway, I glanced back across the street. The smoking woman still wasn’t paying us any attention. A bruise darkened the skin beneath her eye.
I turned away from her, crossing into the chilly building. I didn’t see a man around, but if I had to guess, someone she loved had hit her. Or someone she used to love.
In over a century, I’d met so many human women on the streets. So many like Gina, trapped in terrible lives. I tried to make my shop a refuge for them. Sometimes they moved on to another guy. Sometimes they stayed with me. But human lives didn’t last long.
I hugged myself as we crossed toward a stairwell in the darkened building. Never let your guard down, Aenor. Don’t believe the beautiful lies that spill from the lips of beautiful men.
Talking about Ys had stirred up memories of my mother. It was like she’d come alive again, and she was whispering in my mind.
We climbed a few floors of the concrete building. Lyr was practically dragging himself up the stairs, trailing blood at an alarming rate, but he didn’t complain.
After a few flights, we found an empty room tucked inside, no windows to let the wind in.
It felt lonely in here, and I missed Gina.
As soon as I could get my hands on a reflective surface, I’d see if I could get a glimpse of her.
Time to find out if this beautiful and terrifying man was telling the truth at all.
Chapter 19
In the empty apartment, Lyr sat cross-legged in the center of the room. “I’ll need to heal myself before I can heal you. I’ll need to transform into my Ankou form. You might not want to watch.”
“Why?”
“I’ve been told it’s terrifying in its purest form.”
“So, when I saw you transform before … that wasn’t your purest form?”<
br />
“No.”
Well, that sparked my curiosity. I wanted to get to a mirror to check on Gina, but first, I wanted to get a glimpse of the true Ankou.
Lyr rested his hands on his knees and straightened his back. His body started to glow like a dying sun, tingeing the air around him with gold. His pale hair wafted around his head like he was underwater.
As his crown grew longer and sharper, dark claws grew from his fingertips. Golden tattoos began snaking around his body, and I caught my breath. His magic reverberated over my skin like a dark warning.
My stomach swooped. Instinct alone had me turning away from him.
I crossed into the next room, eager to get a glimpse of Gina. This room had holes where windows would go.
Scanning the floor, I searched for something shiny I could use as a scrying mirror. After a moment, I found a broken metal rod lying in the corner. It looked like part of a towel rack or something, reflective enough that I could see my own face clearly in it. In just a few moments, I’d know if Lyr was lying to me about Gina.
I picked up the bar from the floor and winced. Every time I moved or shifted too much, I could feel the glass digging in a little deeper.
Ignoring the pain, I held up the metal bar to the moonlight and whispered the spell for scrying. My heartbeat sped up, and I thought of Gina—her dark eyes, her wild curls, her habit of sitting on the floor to do her homework. When I opened my eyes again, I saw her there, reflected in the metal.
She sat slumped against a stack of large white pillows in a room with gold walls and lights. She was watching TV and eating something. It was hard to see in this tiny bit of metal, but I thought it was an omelet maybe. She licked her fingers.
So that was what The Savoy looked like. White and gold. Better than I’d imagined, even.
Gods, I wanted to be there.
I let the spell ripple away, relief washing over me. Gina was safe. Lyr had been telling the truth. Things were not as dire as they could be.
Outside, thunder rumbled over the horizon. The hair on the back of my arms stood on end, and I didn’t know if it was the charge of an oncoming storm or Lyr’s magic.
When I crossed back into the windowless room, my heart skipped a beat. The Ankou in his true form left me breathless with awe.
Sublime.
It was the closest word in English to convey a concept unique to the fae: the terrifying beauty of the gods. Horror and perfection mingling together, demanding devotion.
The sight of him stoked a primal fear in my mind, part of me desperate to run from him. Monsters lurk among men, my mother’s voice whispered in my memories. He will destroy you. Kill him before he kills you.
Another part of me just felt compelled to worship him. My knees felt weak, like they were pulling me down to the concrete floor. The gold around him grew brighter, and I could see his scars healing before my eyes.
I knew I was watching something not meant for the eyes of ordinary fae like me. It was dizzying, really. Watching him felt like a violation. I was trespassing on the true face of a god.
Lightning cracked the sky outside, then a loud boom of thunder that shook the walls. Rain started hammering the building.
Shadows snaked around Lyr, ensconcing his golden glow, and his white-gold hair wafted around his head. But his body remained still as the concrete beneath him.
I wasn’t going to kneel, even if I wanted to. If he opened his eyes to find me kneeling before him, I’d have to throw myself out of the building to save myself from the embarrassment.
Think of not-divine things, Aenor.
Baking shows. Spanx. Dogs eating old Cheerios out of a baby stroller. Old men shuffling along boardwalks, licking ice cream cones.
And yet the beautiful vision blazed before me like a holy fire.
I ripped my gaze away from him and crossed back into the next room. With each step I took, I winced at the tiny bits of shattered glass in my backside and thighs.
Cold rain started slanting into the room, and I stared down at the apartments across from us. The smoking woman had gone inside, but a car had pulled up out front. Rain now soaked the clothing she’d hung out on clotheslines.
Something about the way the car was parked bothered me—completely crooked, half on the sidewalk. The person who’d parked it was either drunk or in a serious rush.
Then, the distant sound of shouting tightened my chest. It was a man’s voice, bellowing in another language. Hebrew, I supposed. The woman shouted back at him from inside her apartment.
I took a step closer to the window, watching as the woman flung open the door and rushed out onto the rainy sidewalk. She was young. Twenty, maybe?
Then, her friend followed after her. He wasn’t tall, but he was muscular. He wore a black T-shirt with dollar signs all over it and a Yankees cap pulled down low. He looked like he was about to start something nasty.
I hiked up my dress and pulled the knife out of the holster.
Halfway down the sidewalk, the man grabbed her by the ponytail and pulled her down to the ground. She screamed as he started dragging her back to the house by her hair, caveman style.
For a split second, I considered just killing him. I could do it from here—toss the knife, aim it for his heart. But then I’d be leaving behind one very traumatized woman with a murder charge on her hands.
I turned from the window, hiking up my dress to run through the empty apartment, past the glowing death god himself. My wet flats slapped against the concrete stairs as I rushed down, bounding to the lowest floor. The woman’s panicked screams filled the air as I rushed outside.
Fury blazed in me as I watched the man force his victim inside the apartment. He slammed the door shut behind them. My fingers twitched, but I slid the dagger away in its holster. I didn’t think I’d need it.
Their shouting penetrated the door. I crossed to it and lifted the hem of my dress. I kicked the door, again and again, hitting it near the doorknob until the wood splintered and broke. One more kick, and the door was open.
Both of the humans stared at me, stunned.
The man had pinned the woman to the wall. Her lip was swollen and bleeding, tears streaking her face. Her hair and clothes were wet. The man looked like he’d been trying to pull down her jeans but hadn’t gotten far with her belt on. He gripped her by the back of her neck like she was a wild animal. I took a step closer.
Mom was always right. Monsters lurk among men.
“Hi, friend.” I lunged forward and pulled him off the woman, then gripped him by the throat, slamming him against the wall. He started to kick me in a rage, but the enchantment took hold within moments.
Without a comb and water, enchantment was a difficult task for me. Melisande had been brilliant at it. The more sophisticated and intelligent your victim was, the harder it was for me.
Without my Morgen tools, I was not particularly good at it. I could enchant only the very dumbest of humans.
My Yankees fan here was perfect.
“Do you understand English?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Good. I need you to go out into your car, drive away, and never return here. And what’s more, you will never touch another woman again.”
His eyes were bulging, now, but he nodded. I dropped him, and he stumbled toward the ruined door, pushing past the broken wood. When the man had fled, I was surprised to see Lyr out there, standing on the pavement in the rain.
How long had he been watching me?
I glanced back at the woman. Booze soaked her clothes and hair, and her body was shaking. She looked me up and down, taking in my wet, blood-streaked dress. I probably looked worse than she did, but at least no one had dumped beer on me.
She was simply staring at me, her hands shaking.
I crossed to the door. I closed my eyes and whispered a spell for mending wooden objects—piecing it together, one broken shard at a time. When I’d finished, I walked out of the apartment, turned the knob to close the door, and crossed i
nto the street.
Lyr’s golden eyes were on me, and his body tinged the air around him with amber. He’d taken off his cloak altogether and now stood in the rain, shirtless. He looked more like himself again—less godlike.
“You didn’t have to come out,” I said.
“I started to sense that we were being watched, but I couldn’t find anything.”
I looked down the darkened street, but I couldn’t see anything amiss, either.
“Why did you come out here?” he asked.
We started crossing the road, heading for the empty apartment again. “Because that woman’s boyfriend was beating her up, and I wanted it to stop.”
He frowned at me, his expression curious. “You’re not what I—”
Then, he froze, his entire body taking on the stillness of a wild animal. He held out a hand, motioning for me to stop. He sniffed the air. A chill skittered over my skin.
I couldn’t see anything in the darkness, but I could hear raspy breathing coming from somewhere around us. I sniffed the air, too, breathing in the scent of marsh air, moss, and rotten ferns.
Gwyllion.
Gwyllion were fae that I knew from Ys, and they definitely weren’t native to Israel. They were creatures of the night, scared off by the sun. But in darkness, they were vicious beasts.
I reached down and pulled the dagger from its holster. This would be a perfect time for an iron weapon, but I supposed I didn’t want to be responsible for any more souls trapped in hell eternally.
The rotten scent of the gwyllion grew stronger, and dread cut through my bones. These ancient monsters were the stalkers of the fae realm. They often camped out behind rocks, just watching. But they could move startlingly fast when they needed to, tearing out throats with their teeth. They could gnaw a person down to bony twigs faster than one heartbeat.
I turned, and my gaze landed on a set of gray eyes and tangled gray hair falling in front of a bony face. My heart slammed against my ribs.
I whispered an attack spell, and magic sparked down my arm, charging the blade. The gwyllion leapt for me, but a blast of magic knocked her back. Still, the spell didn’t kill her, and she snarled from the pavement.
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