Mercy Temple Chronicles Box Set 2

by Ciara Graves

  I scrunched my eyes shut, wanting to forget every horrible moment of what Shuval did to me. My fingers traced my cheek. For a horrible second, I couldn’t feel my scar. “Is it there?” I asked harshly, shoving away from Rafael. “Is it?”

  “Is what?” he asked, brow furrowing.

  “My scar. Is it still there? Or not?”

  “Still there. Mercy, what did she do to you?”

  I shuddered, swiping at my eyes. “Long story. How long was I gone?”

  “Three weeks. Almost four, by the time we found you. That spell you sent led us to that fortress. You were in Sector 13 the whole bloody time.”

  I laughed bitterly.

  Of course, I was. Right under everyone’s noses. How had she managed to hide an entire fortress? What was the last thing I remembered? The ritual had started. Evil soaked into my body. The vampire’s screaming had cut off. I’d sensed a change about to happen to me and then… nothing.

  “What did you do?” I asked Rafael, then turned to Bowen. “How did you get me out of there? Was anyone hurt?”

  Bowen’s eye twitched as his gaze flicked to Rafael. “You need to focus on recovering,” he said gently. “You’ve been through an ordeal. You’re weak. Gigi said you'd sustained some sort of magical trauma.”

  “No shit,” I snapped. “Bowen, tell me. Was someone hurt?”

  Rafael shook his head.

  I grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him toward me. “Who? Tell me right now.”

  “No. You need to rest and recover. That’s it. Please, Mercy,” he whispered, covering my hand with his. “You aren’t ready for this. Not yet.”

  That fear in his eyes told me he thought I was going to break. Whatever the bad news was, he believed it would destroy me.

  I let him go and sat on the bed, digging through my memories for a hint of the fight to get me out.

  I remembered some sort of explosion and Shuval shouting. There had been a gunshot, maybe more.

  Voices outside the door distracted me. Gigi’s was one of them. Sycamore and Nor, too. Someone was… drunk singing? Was it Horace?

  I shut my eyes, listening intently to those voices. They were sad, filled with sorrow and regret.

  And there was one voice I didn’t hear. A face I’d expected to see when I opened my eyes.

  Bowen was here and Rafael, of course.

  “Damian,” I said on a breath, my heart pounding like it was about to explode. “Where is he?”

  “Mercy,” Rafael said, trying to hold onto me. “You need to calm down.”

  “No,” I gasped, shaking my head as I scrambled away from him.

  “Mercy,” he said again.

  I slipped out of his arms and off the bed.

  Bowen blurred to the door, blocking my way.

  I shoved at his chest, but my knees were already about to give out. He caught my wrists, shaking his head.

  “Don’t do this to yourself. Please.”

  I glowered at him and drew back my knee to kick him out of the way.

  He easily moved out of reach and then Rafael’s arms closed around me from behind.

  “Let me go,” I shouted, flailing and kicking against him and Bowen. “Let me out of here! Damian! Where is he? Where is he?”

  I screamed for him repeatedly, but there was no way I could break free of Rafael’s hold. Bowen caught my legs. They carried me back to bed.

  “You’re going to hurt yourself,” Rafael yelled over my own shouts. “Mercy, stop.”

  I tugged on my arms, flashes of being manacled to that stone slab filling my vision. Shuval’s chanting resounded inside my head. I screamed until I had no air left in my lungs, fighting as hard as I could to get free. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Damian was here. He had to be here.

  A burst of mage fire, tainted from the ritual, exploded from my center.

  Rafael and Bowen crashed into the walls and slumped to the floor. I curled in on myself at the pain threatening to tear me apart. I crawled off the bed, used the nightstand to haul myself up, and stumbled toward the door.

  I pulled it open as Rafael shouted for Gigi. I ignored him and fell out the doorway, hitting my knees, and cursing. “Damian! Where is he?”

  “Mercy, what are you doing?” Gigi rushed to my side and helped me up.

  Behind her, Wesley stood beside Shep.

  “Gigi, tell me Damian’s here. Tell me he made it home.”

  Gigi’s face cracked and tears welled in her eyes.

  “Pour the girl a drink already,” Horace said loudly, lying on the couch, a bottle of booze in his hand. “She’s going to need one. Or ten. Shit, give her a whole bottle.”

  Slowly, numbly, I walked toward Horace. “Tell me.”

  Horace took a long draw of the amber liquor, smacking his lips as he sat up, holding the bottle out to me. “Have a drink, first.”

  Damian had to be here. He’d walk through that doorway any second now. He was alive. Damian couldn’t die. Nothing could kill him. I’d seen him survive the worst of wounds.

  I stared at the bottle, but the longer I looked at it, the more the truth sunk in. I hadn’t escaped my nightmare. I was still in it.

  My knees buckled. Suddenly, I was on the floor, hyperventilating as I clutched at my chest.

  Damian was dead, and it was all my fault. He died to save me.

  Rafael was on the floor beside me, his voice rolling over me, but the words were lost in the haze clouding my mind.

  The room disappeared, and I was back on that stone slab.

  Hands held me. I sensed the dark magic building inside me, threatening to break free. Claws sprouted from my fingers, and a growl erupted from my mouth.

  Rafael cursed.

  Then I was on my feet, unsure how I got there.

  Shuval’s voice was inside my head, speaking in a harsh language I didn’t think I understood, at least not consciously.

  “Mercy, snap out of it,” Rafael ordered.

  I swiped my claws at him, and he jumped out of range. I made to take a step toward him, then realized what I was doing. I crushed my hands to my head, drowning out Shuval’s voice with my own shouts.

  “Gigi, knock her out,” Rafael yelled. “Do it!”

  I collapsed to the floor, but he caught me. I continued to fight him, unable to get control of my own limbs.

  Gigi dodged my flailing hands, then pressed her fingertips to my forehead.

  Everything went dark. My body went limp.

  I drifted in the shadows, mourning the loss of the man I thought would live forever. The man who had become my second father.

  He was dead.

  And he was never coming back.

  Chapter 10

  Rafael

  From the doorway to the bedroom, I watched Mercy sleep.

  Gigi was in there with her this time, ensuring she remained calm as she rested.

  I had known she wasn’t going to take the news of Damian’s death well, but what I saw, what she began to shift into, that left us all unsure if we’d actually succeeded in saving Mercy.

  A hand landed on my shoulder. I glanced back. Bowen motioned me to the kitchen where the others had already headed.

  I wasn’t sure about leaving Gigi alone with Mercy.

  She looked at me and smiled sadly. “I’ll be fine. Go on.”

  I studied Mercy’s peaceful face a moment longer then followed Bowen into the kitchen. On the way, I passed Horace, who was snoring loudly on the couch. He’d had enough booze to drown a human.

  I nudged his foot. He grunted, rolling over. He’d feel like shit later, but the man needed some way to process his grief. I let him be and continued to the kitchen.

  Wesley and Shep sat at the table, their heads together as they spoke quietly. Sycamore paced from one end of the kitchen to the other, wringing his hands.

  Nor came close. “How is she?”

  “Sleeping, but I’m not sure how long that will last. Gigi can’t keep putting her under.” I sank into a chair, holding my
head. “I assumed... I don’t know what I assumed… How do we make this right? I don’t even know what this is.”

  “You said you interrupted some sort of ritual?” Wesley asked. “Could you tell what it was?”

  “Maybe. From what Horace told us, it could’ve been the ritual to make her a hybrid. I don’t know. She was on one slab, and there was someone else chained to another. I think he might’ve been dead. I wasn’t exactly focusing on anything except getting Mercy out of there.”

  Wesley leaned back, white hair wild and frizzled. “Then either she was having something stolen from her—” he said to Sycamore.

  “Or being given something.” Sycamore nodded.

  “Shouldn’t we be more worried about what else was happening to her? She was shifting,” Bowen pointed out. “How is that possible?”

  “We saw it before,” I told him. “The hybrids who attacked us here were dragonborn. One of them started shifting. Whatever Shuval’s doing to her kind, it’s bringing back the ability to shift.”

  “Dark magic,” Sycamore whispered harshly. “Very dark, ancient magic.”

  “You said that potion you gave her would help remove the taint.”

  “I thought it merely stuck to her skin, but from what I sense now, runs much deeper. Mercy is in far more danger than I realized. I’m sorry. This will take time to undo.”

  “You think they can shift all the way yet?” Bowen asked. “I don’t fancy having to fight full-blown dragons in this coming battle. Unless Rufus had some catapults hidden away, we wouldn’t last more than five minutes on a battlefield. They’ll destroy the city.”

  “We have until the Blood Moon rises,” I reminded him. “That’s months away.”

  “No,” Mercy’s voice came from the doorway.

  I jumped to my feet and went to her side. Gigi was with her, holding her up.

  “She insisted,” Gigi explained. “So I figured I should at least come with her.”

  Mercy took my hand and leaned on me as I walked her to the round kitchen table to sit. Her eyes wandered over the black cabinets, the white countertop, the black-and-white tiled floor.

  “You don’t have to do this now,” I insisted.

  She squeezed my hand and sat down beside me. She’d pulled her hair back in a loose braid, but strands were already coming loose. I brushed them from her face and kissed her forehead.

  “I do. Because we don’t have time.” She took a deep breath and blew it out shakily. “The Blood Moon is rising sooner than we thought.”

  “You can’t make the Blood Moon come sooner,” Wesley argued.

  Mercy rubbed at a smudge on the table, not meeting his gaze. “Shuval can. She has more power than you realize. Between her and her hybrids, they’re a freaking powerhouse. She’s going to bring it, and when she does, hell’s going to crack open and send this world plummeting into darkness.”

  “Bit overdramatic.” Bowen’s tone was dry.

  “No, it’s not.” Mercy tugged down the long sleeves of the sweatshirt she wore, now covering her hands. It wasn’t hers and it wasn’t mine. Had to be Damian’s. She appeared in control, seemed to hum with nervous energy. “I wasn’t able to get much, but Shuval told me enough to make me understand this isn’t going to be just a bad day if we let her get away with casting her final ritual.”

  “What will it be then?” Wesley asked, his hands folded on the table before him.

  “The ley lines have been charged with dark magic, blood magic, from the dragon race. She’s figured out how to manipulate it. To make it do her bidding.” She ran her fingers over the scar on her face. “She has the marks to prove it. It’s become a part of who she is now. Those tattoos she has? They’re living essences. And she’s not merely a dragonborn. She’s taken the strengths of every race she could find.”

  I thought back to when I’d raised the shotgun to blast Shuval. She’d opened her mouth. I saw those sets of fangs.

  “What has she done to herself?” I whispered, horrified.

  “Turned herself into a living, breathing abomination. And it gets better,” Mercy muttered. “That ritual you interrupted? She was trying to remove Envy’s curse and turn me into a hybrid. I watched her do it to someone else. It’s, uh, how I managed to send you that message.” She cringed, holding my face in her palms. “Sorry for the dose of dark magic.”

  “I survived. You did what you had to do.”

  “Then you’re a hybrid?” Nor asked, studying her with keen eyes.

  “No, still have my scar. Still cursed. No fangs last time I checked.”

  “And the shifting?” Bowen kept his distance, as if concerned she’d turn on him and rip his throat out with her claws.

  I sensed Mercy withdrawing into herself at his question. I pulled her close, not letting. Holding her, comforting her as much as I could. “It’s alright. You’re safe, remember?”

  “But you all might not be,” she mumbled. “The dark magic Shuval used during her ritual is tugging at the recessive gene in me, priming it.”

  “For what?”

  Her blue eyes locked onto mine and deep, overwhelming sorrow and anger warred for precedence. “When the Blood Moon rises, those who are dragonborn will have their recessive gene reversed. They… or we, I guess, will be able to shift, but it will always be linked back to her and what she’s done.”

  “And everyone else with magic?” Gigi’s voice was small as she asked.

  Mercy hung her head, looking like she wanted to be anywhere else but here.

  “Just tell me and get all the bad news over with,” Gigi said, trying to laugh, but it came out harsh. “I’m sorry, it’s just, if I’m going to die, I’d like to know now.”

  Mercy took hold of Gigi’s hand and held it tightly. “From what I figured out, once the ritual starts, she’s going to use it as a massive event to mirror what she did to me. She’ll take the essences, the powers and strengths of the good souls and give them to those in her army. If you resist, you’ll end up scarred. Your magic will be damaged.”

  “And if I don’t, I’ll die. That’s fantastic.” Gigi nodded slowly. “Thanks for not sugarcoating it.”

  “Gigi, you’ll die anyway,” Mercy whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  Gigi abruptly hugged her. “No, this isn’t your doing. But I do need to warn the coven. The Blood Moon hasn’t risen yet, right? Shuval still needs those last few artifacts.” Gigi pulled away, her hands playing in the folds of her dark pink skirt. “Yeah, I, uh—I just need to make some calls, do what I can. Carry on,” she said, ducking out of the kitchen.

  “I don’t know if they can do anything to stop this.” Mercy laid her head on my shoulder. “I don’t know if any of us can.”

  “We will. Bowen?”

  He sat down across from Mercy. “We have no choice now. We have to destroy the last artifacts on the list. She can’t charge the rest of the ley line junctions if we do.”

  Mercy sighed. “Then we destroy the artifacts.”

  “Just like that?”

  She shrugged. “We don’t have any other choice. Should’ve done it when it was first suggested and now…” She rubbed her eyes. “I want to know how it happened.”

  Bowen subtly shook his head.

  I tensed at the sudden change of subject.

  “Don’t do that,” she whispered, glaring from Bowen to me as she pushed out of her chair. “I can handle it, alright? I deserve to know how Damian… how he died.” She choked over the words, her face paling. “Tell me.”

  Sycamore stopped his pacing.

  Leaning against the far wall, Nor grunted loudly.

  A heaviness settled over the kitchen.

  After Gigi had knocked Mercy out, we’d discussed how we might tell her, then decided it’d be better if she didn’t know the details. There wasn’t even a body to bury.

  Against my better judgment, I cleared my throat and proceeded to tell her.

  “We were at the portal. Damian and I were the last to go through, but Envy—” I pause
d when I noticed Mercy shaking with anger.

  She nodded at me to continue.

  “He snagged Damian. I held onto him as long as I could, but the rest of the hybrids were coming. He—uh, he made me—” I looked down at my hands, the words stuck in my throat. It was like Damian’s hands were back in my own while I struggled to drag him to safety. “He made me let go. I tried to go after him, but it was too late.”

  “How?” Mercy said on a breath, tears slipping down her cheeks.

  I rose to go to her, but she held out her hand, warding me off. My heart ached as she glared at me.

  “How, Rafael?”

  “Envy ran him through with a blade.”

  “Then he could be alive. They could be holding him prisoner,” she rambled.

  I shook my head.

  “Why not? He’s survived worse wounds.”

  “He dropped a bomb, Mercy, to give us a chance to seal the portal. Damian’s gone. Not even he could survive an explosion at that close range.”

  An array of emotions flitted across her face, then it went dangerously blank. That worried me the most. She walked toward the door to head back into the sitting room. I started to follow when she shook her head.

  “I just need a few minutes alone.”

  “Mercy,” I said, but she walked away. “Damn it.”

  “We knew she wouldn’t take it well,” Bowen said from the table. “Hard for all of us to deal with.”

  I knocked my fist on the wall, wanting to go after her. If she asked for space, I had to give it to her, at least for a few minutes. “Right, we need a plan to destroy the artifacts. Did you figure out how to do it yet?”

  “You want to talk about that now?”

  “I need something to distract me. So, yeah, let’s talk about it now.”

  Bowen nodded. “I did find a way, but it will take time to build up such strength to destroy them. A few hours, at least. And I need more than just Gigi and Sycamore. A whole coven would be ideal.”

  “Have you asked Gigi yet?”

  “Haven’t exactly had a chance to, but I suppose if she’s speaking to them now, I should see if I might have a word with their leader. If you’ll excuse me.” Bowen blurred out of the kitchen.