Inimical
Page 29
“Circuit Fae,” I breathe. But he’s pushing more power than any Circuit Fae I’ve ever seen.
More than Euphoria did when she was infected. More than even Agravaine.
“No.” He shakes his blanched hair. “Not a Circuit Fae. An Inimical.”
He lifts one blackened hand, and I see it spliced into his skin—every single type of black-magic circuitry there is running in circuitry veins. Black Moribund, green Ouroboros, crimson Inimical…
All under the control of King Reinghûl.
“I don’t care what the hell you are.” My anger is a runaway brushfire. “I won’t let you infect the hearthstone.” I step toward him, white flame wreathing my hands. I’m all things fury and Summerfire. Even so, my voice cracks. “I’m going to make you pay for killing my father.”
“Oh, Syl. You can try.” Aldebaran’s face is lit with glowing crimson, the circuits crawling up his neck. “But how will you kill me without your power?” He clenches his fist and yanks.
Instantly, my body responds, nearly jackknifing in two as he snags hold of the Summer in my blood. Golden light bleeds from my pores, the pain like battery acid across my nerve endings.
“Ngh!” I pull back, firing up my white shield.
He reaches right through it. I can’t resist the power of the prince of my realm, even if it is controlled, perverted by the dark Fae king.
If Reinghûl has his way, there won’t be anything left of Fair Faerie.
Dad wanted me to save it, to save all my people.
I will.
“Hey! Prince Fancy! You want the Summer in my blood?” I stop resisting his pull on my power. Instead, I ball up all the energy inside me, a burning, searing, white-hot sphere of fury…
“Take it!” I blast him a good one.
My white flames slam into him, knocking him back thirty feet. Krunk! He blasts into a concession stand. Popcorn and cotton candy, a stray unicorn beanie, all go flying every which way. The awning settles over him, a red-and-white striped shroud.
So. Fitting.
“You…you…” Red-faced, he fumbles, trying to push to his feet amidst spilled kettle corn and chips. The unicorn beanie seriously ruins his cool by squeaking plaintively.
“Me…me,” I taunt him, because seriously, this guy is so beneath my contempt right now. Not to mention, even with the hearthstone as a gory trophy inside his chest, he looks positively comical lying in a pile of corn and stuffed animals.
I advance on him. “I.” Blast! The peanut roaster explodes. “Have.” Blast! The soda machine erupts, fizzing caramel-colored gook all over him. “Had.” Blam! White flames light the rest of the stuffed animals on fire. “Enough. Of your crap!”
Blast Blast! Blast!
The concession stand practically detonates in a satisfying explosion of peanuts, popcorn, spraying soda, burning stuffed animals.
Covered in gunk, Aldebaran tries to duck for cover.
He might live, but his cool is deader than dead.
I point to my cheek. “You’ve got a little something on your face, bud.”
Snarling, Cheaty McCheaterface that he is, he turns on the fleeing mortals. All around us, people are fleeing, packing the exits trying to get out. Thanks to Roue’s Euphoria power, they’re not trampling each other in a mass-hysteria panic.
But they are sitting ducks for an angry, soda-soaked Fae prince.
His face twisted in anger and hatred, he lashes out, sheets of darkfire blistering toward them.
Flame on! I throw my white shield over them.
Just in time.
His darkfire strikes it, eating up it like magma. Riddling holes sear through my shield, darkfire devouring the light. I pour it on and on and on.
“You won’t have them,” I snarl through gritted teeth.
“Won’t I?” His smile is sharp.
“It’s nice to have dreams, jerk.”
He lashes out with darkfire, and I lash back, white flame and dark meeting in the middle. I shake my head, tossing my red curls from my face. Sweat runs down my cheeks. I fight against him, protecting the people as he tries to kill them.
“I know your plan,” I tell him. “You’re trying to keep us from Dark Faerie. From the Battle of Wits and War.” After all, he’s Reinghûl’s slave now. And the King of Dark Faerie wants to seize the Adamant Throne and devour Fair Faerie.
So he can rule as supreme Overking.
Roue and I have to make it in time.
Aldebaran pours on the darkfire, Inimical circuitry searing across both cheeks as the infection spreads. “I’ll fry them all!”
“The hell you will!”
I fight him, pouring more power into my shield, watching as Roue, my brave Winter girl, wrangles the people with her gramarye as the Bleed washes over her in a psychedelic tie-dyed wave of magic.
It breaks her Glamoury.
Everyone can see her for what she is—a Dark Fae, stunning as an angel, dangerous as the devil, all that raven-dark hair billowing, her bronze skin glowing, her eyes blue ringed in gold.
A beautiful, dangerous Winter princess.
Mine. My heart skips a beat.
Aldebaran forces his flames against mine, the crimson veins eating up the left side of his face. Soon there won’t be anything left of him but gross glowing circuitry.
The hearthstone in his chest flickers. It’s not infected. Yet.
Desperation aches in my chest. I hold out my hand. “Give it here. I can save it.”
His laughter is wild. “It’s too late for that, Syl. I can’t take the throne without you.” He gestures around at the Bleed. “All of this is because of you! Because you won’t be with me.”
His words hit me, an arrow to the heart. I look around, taking in the destruction, the death and devastation. Everyone hurt and running for their lives, the Faerie realms about to smash together like two atoms, dragging every other realm into the wreckage.
It is my fault. If only I’d—
And then I look at Roue. What? If only I’d forsaken my true feelings? If only I’d done what others wanted me to do, love who others wanted me to love?
I touch the Aureate Queen in my pocket, and all my anger bursts inside me like a bonfire. “Hell no. I have the right to reject you. I have the right to choose Rouen.” I pour more power into my shield. “This is because of you. Because you couldn’t take no for an answer, because you stole power.”
A deep breath, and the words tear from my throat. “Because you killed my father!”
I’m aching. I’m numb. I’m screaming inside. I’m torn up from the pain.
All that emotion backlashes into a burst of power. My white shield brightens and burns off his darkfire. It goes out in a whoosh.
The last of the people are nearly away.
Roue looks to me, and I nod. “I’m all right,” I send.
I feel her love in return.
I turn to face Aldebaran. But he’s not done yet.
He touches the hearthstone, tapping into its failing power.
Puullllll! The vicious tug on my blood doubles me over as he uses the hearthstone to pull even harder on me, on my blood. I’m blasted with the power of the prince. Golden light bubbles up from my pores, searing my flesh, burning me from the inside out. My head feels like it’s going to explode, my body taxed to its limit.
Father, I’m failing you.
“Syl!” Roue screams, turning.
But I won’t let her. “No, Roue! Help the people!”
I’m failing, my vision going dark, the power leaching from my blood…
Gah! I can’t let that jerk win!
“Syl!”
That voice! I look across the Diamond. “Mom!”
She rushes in against the tide of people rushing out. She’s got something in her hands. At first I think it’s a gun, her usual hand-cannon, but no. It’s…a wand?
No, it’s not that, either. It’s one of those black-iron stakes.
It gleams and glows like white fire. Like sunfire.
A ring of power.
Leave it to my mom to have a backup plan—er, spell. Sneaky little minx. But then it hits me. She forsook her power. She promised not to interfere.
If there’s one thing I know about Faerie promises, it’s that, if you break one, the consequences are harsh. Fear ignites in my soul. “Mom, don’t!”
She doesn’t listen.
“Get back,” she hisses at Rouen, and my girl hastens to obey, scrambling out of the circle.
Mom turns to Aldebaran and holds the gleaming black-iron rod high with one hand. “Get away from my daughter!”
She breaks the rod in two.
Krakow! A shockwave of power shoots out in a circular ripple, waving over the people, the Diamond, striking the other iron stakes. All of them light up like lightning rods. Sheets of white flame zorch out of each, slamming into Aldebaran one after another after another.
They wash over him, engulfing him. He screams and screams.
My heart soars at seeing him so panicked, on the run.
I expect him to snickle-step back to OverHill and vanish in a burst of sunlight. Instead, from the far side of the field, a crimson flare…
The Xi.
Darn it all! I’d forgotten all about the troll assassin.
The Xi’s Inimical veins begin to glow, ice-blue eyes bleeding over into red as Reinghûl exerts his control from afar. Becca cries out, grabbing the Xi’s arm, but they only pull away, windwarp to Aldebaran, and wrap him in shadow.
In a burst of darkness, the two of them vanish.
In their wake, it’s like the chaos dies right down. The Diamond has finished its catastrophic collapse. People are streaming out to their cars in safety. The Bleed continues to swell out like ripples in a pond.
Roue, me, and Mom meet in the middle of the field.
Roue’s in a panic. “He’s heading to UnderHollow. We have to get there.”
“I believe I can help you there.”
Ugh, no. I know the sound of that voice even before I turn. I do turn, and yup, there she is in all her pencil-skirt, smart blazer, and bespectacled glory.
Miss Jardin.
I turn on her. “Look, you can just—”
“I brought her,” Mom says, and that floors me.
“Mom?”
“You need help, Syl, and you can’t tax the stitches anymore.”
As if on cue, Roue’s alarm goes off. 11:55. Five minutes.
Dread wraps around my heart.
“Mom’s right.” I look to Roue. “No choice. Looks like we’re trusting a pocket púca.”
40
ROUEN
I would do anything for you
My girl, my girl
My sweet Summer girl
- Sweet Summer Girl,” Euphoria
* * *
The alarm on my phone echoes across the Diamond’s wreckage and ruination. I feel its panicked pulse in my bones.
There’s no way I want to trust a pocket púca.
Especially not one who’s trying so hard to break the conditions of her geis.
Miss Jardin looks smug against the backdrop of broken stands and shattered scoreboard, the remnants of popcorn and snacks and other debris littered across the field. Scorch marks from Aldebaran’s darkfire scar what’s left of the stands.
The entire place is a hot mess.
Needless to say, the bad guys have been kicking our butts.
Syl presses. “Time’s running out.”
She’s right.
It’s Midsummer. It’s time for the duel to determine who will rule Dark Faerie—me or my father. If I lose, he’ll infect both hearthstones with Inimicals, use them to make Dark Faerie swallow Fair Faerie whole and set himself up as supreme Overking.
If I win, I’ll have to murder Syl like some dark sacrifice.
It’s madness.
But still, you never let a púca know she’s got the upper hand.
I cross my arms over my chest., trying to look more intimidating. “All right, púca. Do your stuff.”
Miss J’s laugh is a rushing fire, her voice condescending. “Miss Rivoche, you know that’s not how it works.”
I give Georgina the stink-eye and step in. The librarian is diminutive, and I loom over her, storm and thunder ready to crash down on her red head. “You do as I say, lady. I’m the royal Fae here, not you.” Okay, not my finest moment, or my nicest, but all my people are in danger.
Syl’s people are in danger.
I should get a pass on this one.
Miss Jardin’s right eye twitches with fire. “You know the price.”
“Fine.” Syl’s irritation and impatience bleeds down the bond. “You want a condition of your geis lifted?”
“Syl.” I put a hand on her arm. “Don’t.”
But Syl barrels on. “Consider it lifted. Now get us to Dark Faerie.”
As always, I wait for the boom, for a flare of magic, or the sound of glass breaking, for…something to indicate that Miss Jardin is free.
Nope. Nothing.
Miss Jardin only smiles haughtily. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Don’t push it, púca,” I growl.
With that tinkling laugh of hers, she takes off her glasses. Her eyes fire hellish red, and her entire body warps, seeming to revolve inside the skin. Krik-crack! Bones snap, her spine knots and twists, her hands curl in, her back hunches up. She falls to all fours, black fur sprouting from her pores. Smoke bursts up, the scent spicy like habaneros.
A mane and tail, hooves and tiny horns near velvety ears.
When she stands again, it’s in her night-mare form, black as nails, mane and tail trailing sooty smoke and fire.
Snorting, she stomps one hoof.
Urg. I hate this part, but we’re pressed for time, desperate. I climb onto her back and give a hand up to Syl. Night-mare Miss Jardin is hot to the touch, her skin twitching.
She’s off like a bullet the second Syl’s butt touches down.
“Whoa, horsey!” My shout is swallowed by the spinning, heat-blasting vortex she opens.
Slurrrrp! We’re sucked in. The Snickleways of UnderHollow race by, all dark convoluted arches and passages. The dizzying array makes my stomach jumble up. Syl holds tight to me.
I will protect you, I vow silently.
She hears me and squeezes my hand. “And I’ll protect you.”
And then whoosh! We zoom out of Miss J’s vortex and into the white world of UnderHollow. The change from nuclear hot to searing cold takes my breath. Everything is Winter wind and blowing snow, save for the ruination of Summer, long trails of scorched blackened earth blasted through the snowy landscape.
So many now. My realm is bleeding with heat.
Above and close, so close, the burning bright curve of OverHill looms like a planet entering UnderHollow’s orbit. High in the atmosphere, cold mist and hot steam, Summer sun and Winter squalls battle it out.
The ground trembles under our feet.
“The Great Convergence,” I whisper, my chest constricting with dread.
Night-mare Miss Jardin surges on, soaring above the dark castle, then spiraling down through warring snow and sun flashes, finally alighting in the inner courtyard. At least her geis seems intact, despite Syl releasing one more of her conditions. Thank the ancestors for small favors. She whinnies, paws the cobbles, shooting up sparks.
Syl and I slide off her back.
Into the center of Castle Knockma.
I gaze about at the heavy carved adamant and obsidian. A passage hewn from a massive column of black stone, carven walls, carven floors. Every frieze and image one from our past.
Every one a dark Fae king victorious.
And on their bases, set in stone, “We will have no queens here.”
I touch the Adamant Queen at my throat. We’ll just see about that, boys.
An archway lo
oms up, crafted of a dozen carved ravens, some perched, some in flight, hematite eyes glittering. Among them, an array of blades bent and bowed to form the archway. Jagged points crossed, meshed, meeting.
Beyond lies the throne room.
My breath freezes in my throat. This is where House Rivoche first shed blood to become kings of the Winter Court. In the time of the Great Cleaving.
And ever since then, we have ruled. House and Horde Rivoche. My father.
I can taste his hatred on the air.
“He’s waiting for me.”
If I step through, I will have to answer the challenge. The duel will begin.
Can I defeat him?
The ravens watch me, but keep their silent council.
Syl takes my hand. Her warmth, her strength fills me up. With her other hand, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out the Aureate Queen. “Together?”
I pull the Adamant Queen from under my top. “Together.”
She clinks my Queen with hers.
Hand in hand, we step across the threshold.
My father stands in the center of the domed, vaulted chamber. UnderHollow’s moonlight slashed with sunfire from OverHill’s slow crash strobe through the stained glass, casting him in light and darkness.
Escaping the Ebon Vault hasn’t taxed him in the slightest. Power radiates off him, all of UnderHollow humming and primed to answer his call.
He’s no longer the legendary Adamant King, but he is in control.
The Adamant Throne looms behind him, glittering darkly, a black dragon’s coiled body sharp with thorns. I am about to challenge him for that throne.
A throne I don’t even want.
Father’s eyes glimmer hatefully. “Rouen,” he says. “Daughter.”
“Father.”
Tension bleeds between us, charging the air.
I eye the curvature of the room, the domed vaulted roof alight with glowing, flashing stained glass. All the triumphs of our people carved across the wall in bas-relief.
“Did you imagine they would carve you here, Father?” I pace, keeping him at an angle, off-balance. “After you bled the hearthstone dry. After you infected it?”