The world around him did not slow down, but sped up. Mellan’s clawed-tipped hand shot out, terror ran down Adam’s middle, and Eliza froze. He did not have time to shout, to push her out of Mellan’s path. Adam threw himself forward, into Mellan’s lashing hand, protecting Eliza with the only thing he had. His body.
He knew it instinctively, knew that this was it, that he would die. Let her be strong. And all of it happened in a second.
The impact shook him to the core, pushing the air from his lungs. Adam curled into it, his sight going hazy, as agony exploded over his chest. His body arched back as something tugged at him.
Eliza’s scream came as if from a great distance, a buzzing, indistinct sound, drowned out by a huge whoosh of white pain. He could not move. Numb, he glanced down.
His chest was a gaping cavern of blood and gore. Odd. Had he… Mellan grinned at him, his pale face splattered with little crimson dots. He held out his hand to Adam as though offering him something. Adam could not focus on it.
Cold. He was too cold. He could not feel his legs. Was he falling?
The floor greeted him with a jarring smack. Grief clamped the sides of his head with hard hands. Or was that Eliza? Was she speaking? She made an awful racket, and his head hurt. Be strong, love. Win this. Mellan still grinned. Holding out his hand. Something in that hand. A throbbing dark mass, dripping with blood.
Oh.
It was his heart.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jack Talent was not in the habit of retiring to bed early. Unless it was to tumble about in it with his wife. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on a nearby chair. No, he had no desire to lie about in bed at – he glanced at the ornate clock on the mantle – four in the afternoon. But his wife was tired, so he would keep her company.
A heavy fear weighed down his heart. Mary was often tired now. Sleeping more than she was awake. Weakening. He ran a hand through his hair and grabbed the back of his neck. Would she soon be like Daisy? Vacant and motionless upon her bed?
For a moment, the fear threatened to rip out of him. He reined it in. For her, he did this. He had to remain strong for her. Jack stared into the fire, watching the flames dance and crackle and he tried not to cry like a lad.
Ian was already lost to fear, snarling at anyone who came near Daisy, and growing weak from lack of sleep and food. Jack worried that his foster father might soon lose control of his inner wolf. And a mad lycan was a danger to all. It would destroy Jack’s soul if he had to kill Ian in order to protect the people of London.
“Christ.” He sat heavily upon the edge of the bed and held his head in his hands.
He could hear Mary puttering around her dressing room, washing her face and brushing her hair. He rose to join her, perhaps help her out of her gown and make love to her nice and slow, when the floor shook. Hard. A silent boom seemed to rush through the air, making Jack stumble. An earthquake? He’d never experienced one, but it was the first thought that came to mind. Only the air had felt ice cold.
And then he heard Ian’s roar, filled with utter terror. Jack moved to go to him, but then halted. Mary. Secure Mary. On unsteady limbs, he rushed to the dressing room, his heart pounding and his father’s screams ringing in his ear.
Wrenching the dressing room door open, he skidded to a halt. “Mary!”
She lay in a tangle of limbs, her eyes open and staring. Jack was at her side in an instant. “Mary.”
God. God. He’d seen her like this once before. When she’d died for him. Terrified, he pressed his head to her breast, frantic to hear the steady churn of her clockwork heart. But only found silence. Jack’s breath came out in hard gasps. His eyes burning and his mind frozen in fear. And then the second blast came, a great boom of noise that shattered all the windows.
Jack didn’t look up, but held his wife close, and wept.
Eliza could not recollect what played out before her. She saw it unfold but it could not be true. It could not. Yet it was.
Adam toppled to the floor, his chest ripped open. And his heart. That powerful organ that held his life’s blood. It was in Mellan’s hand. He’d pulled it from Adam’s chest.
Eliza snapped out of her terror. “Adam!”
She fell to his side, scrambling to hold him. What to do? What could she do?
His mouth hung open as if in surprise. A fine sheen of sweat covered his greying skin.
“Adam.” With frantic hands she touched him, stroking, begging with all that she had that this was a nightmare. “Love. Adam.”
What to do?
His eyes, once brilliant and golden and filled with eternal life, grew dull. Frantic, she cupped his cheek, the skin slack there, and peered into his eyes. “Adam.” There was nothing else to say. He couldn’t even focus on her. Because he was dead.
Eliza remained hunched over his form, her body locked tight in horrified shock.
And then Mellan laughed. “That was far easier than expected.”
Though her fingers felt like ice, a fine, fierce heat began to coil within her. Slowly, carefully, she eased Adam’s shoulders off her lap and placed him on the floor. Mellan watched her with amusement. “His curse broken and still he hadn’t claimed you as his soul mate. For here you stand, and there he lays.”
The rage grew, pumping like a bellows, filling her up.
Mellan continued on, not realizing the danger. “There is no one left to you, Eliza. Save me. The only one who knows of what you are capable. The only one to teach you how to use your talents.”
On strong limbs she rose. And the air about her seemed to crackle and spark. Bastard. Eliza sneered, showing her teeth.
“I will control you, Eliza May. And thus control death. Oh, the possibilities —”
A screech flew from her lips, louder than anything she’d ever heard. With the force of a locomotive, it rushed from her. Endless screaming. Mellan blanched, his skin sinking and cleaving to his bones as he stood rooted to the spot.
Eliza’s scream grew in volume. In strength. Windows shattered, Mab’s fine crystal chandelier crashing to the ground. And it was power. A rush surged through Eliza’s body and outward. She lifted her hand, her pale fingers stained scarlet with Adam’s blood. The sight gave her direction. Mellan’s mouth worked on a wordless cry as she came for him, wrapping her fingers around his throat and lifting him high.
And the endless scream took on a life, swirling about him with black fingers that invaded his mouth. His body arched, thrashing within Eliza’s grip. She did not let go but squeezed tightly, her mouth stretched open with the terrible screech of her rage. Then the black fingers yanked the soul of Mellan out of his body.
And Eliza let the lifeless body drop. All at once, her scream died.
She stood, swaying, her body weak and her heart broken. At her feet Adam lay. The sight of his empty eyes brought her to her knees. And then all went black.
Eliza woke with a gasp. She hurt. Everywhere. But it was her heart that felt broken and bleeding, as though she’d swallowed shards of glass and they’d collected in that tight space. A sense of horrible, black dread consumed her, and she stared up at the ceiling, her gaze stuck on a tattered cobweb dangling from one plaster rosette. What place was this?
And then she realized that she was not alone. The slight warmth of a body came from the right of her. And on her left? Coldness. Dread. A sob, unbidden, wracked her aching chest.
“Eliza?” It was a soft, feminine whisper. And Eliza jerked, wrenching her head toward the sound.
Holly Evernight knelt next to her with an expression of abject sorrow. Just over her shoulder hovered Will Thorne. His black eyes were threaded with strands of silver, and as he stared down at her, the silver grew stronger. He looked as if he might weep for her.
And then it all came back to her.
A wail tore up her throat, thrusting her upright with its power. The cold weight by her side jostled, and she turned, feeling her entire soul shrivel with utter grief. Adam.
He
lay, bone white, dull eyes staring into nothingness, a gaping hole in his chest.
“Eliza.” A hand settled on her shoulder. Holly.
“He’s gone,” Eliza said unnecessarily. She wanted to cry, hot tears of pain. And yet her eyes remained dry. This one time in her life and she couldn’t shed a damn tear.
“I’m so sorry, Miss May,” said Thorne, and when she began to shudder with dry sobs, he eased around Holly and embraced her, holding her head against his shoulder. Eliza did not really know this man, his scent was unfamiliar and not the one she craved, but he was warm and offering a sorely needed comfort. She let him hold her as she shook. So very cold.
Holly looked on in concern, holding Eliza’s icy hand in her own. “Who did this?”
There was a strange urgency to her question, one that went beyond Adam.
Eliza squeezed her eyes shut. “Mellan. The fae… Well, I suppose he’d been king for a day.” An unhinged laugh escaped her before she took another breath. “Adam… he was trying to protect me. And now…” She pressed the heel of her hand against her brow. “At least Mellan is no more.”
She pointed in the direction of the human-shaped mess of loamy ash that had once been Mellan’s body.
“Christ,” muttered Thorne, his hand tightening on the back of her head. She felt him turn slightly and knew he was looking at Holly.
Eliza eased herself back and took in their twin expressions of fear and grief. “It is good of you to care for me. But neither of you has any cause to grieve…” She could not say his name, but forced herself to go on. “There is more, isn’t there?”
Thorne sat back on his haunches. “The GIM, all of them, have collapsed. London is in an uproar. First the blood rain, and now this. Humans are thinking it is the end of days. And the rest of us…” Thorne ducked his head.
Holly’s dark blue eyes filled. “They are dead, Eliza. Or give every appearance of being so.”
Eliza’s body went hollow. Not only Adam. But Lucien. Mary and Daisy, who had saved her. Kind Mr. Brown, who had harbored Adam and her. All of them. Adam’s children.
“He dies,” Eliza whispered. “They all die.”
A terrible stillness settled over the room. “I fear it is so,” said Holly after a moment.
Eliza pressed the heels of her hands over her aching eyes. She could not bring herself to look down again. To acknowledge that he was gone. And her soul was torn in half. Yes, he was her other half. She knew that implicitly now. He was gone, leaving behind a terrible sense of wrongness within her.
She felt Thorne stir, heard the shushing of fabric. From the corner of her eye, she saw him move to cover Adam with his coat.
“No!” Eliza rose to her knees, pushing him away, and curling herself over Adam’s cold body. His life’s blood, now sticky and thick upon the floor, seeped through her clothes. “Do not touch him.”
Silence.
“Miss May —”
Holly hushed Thorne with a small sound. When she spoke, her voice was even and low. “Eliza, I know this pain. I know you do not want to let him go.” She swallowed audibly. “But let us take him to a better place. Not here.”
No, not left disgraced upon the floor. With the stiffness of an old woman, Eliza moved away from Adam’s body. She didn’t look down. He wasn’t there at any rate. Not the soul that lit him up. A steady burn grew behind her eyes and prickled at the bridge of her nose.
“Will you…” Her breath hitched. “Will you help me take him to Lucien’s barge?” Eliza did not know where else to go. And Adam had loved Lucien as a father to a son.
Holly’s voice came as though through a fog. “Anything, dearest.”
Eliza stood. She would take care of Adam. And then she did not know. The endless possibilities of life had simply stopped.
Chapter Thirty
They’d placed him on a pallet under the window of Lucien’s great dining hall. Dressed in a simple tunic and resting on a bed of black velvet, his hands clasped on the hilt of his broken sword, Adam looked every inch the fallen knight. But peace had not eased his features.
Eliza sat by his side. The room was too hot, the light of hundreds of candles – a flame for each GIM – burning too bright for Eliza’s eyes. Yet she did not mind. She did not think on much at all. Only him.
Her hand curled around his cold and unmoving one. “Descartes said that it is easy to hate and it is difficult to love. I suspect he is right in some regard.” Eliza ran her thumb over Adam’s knuckles. “It was easy to hate you.” A strangled, half laugh, half sob left her. “I did it so well. And yet, it was so very easy to love you too, Adam.”
The light of the candles blurred as Eliza’s eyes filled. “Oh, I fought it, like a cat to a water bath. But it was of no use. Love you, I did.” Gently she stroked the back of his hand. A fighter’s hands, wide and strong. “And you must be my soul’s other half, impossible demon, for I feel so… broken.”
As if a damn had burst, she cried, tears falling fast and hot. The pain in her heart had her curling over Adam, resting her head upon his hard shoulder. And she cried. So hard that she nearly missed the faint hissing sound beneath her cheek. It grew louder, and Eliza sat up.
“Oh no.” Adam’s fine wool tunic began to disintegrate, spreading out from a patch by his chest. “No, no, no.” Eliza slapped at the slow burn, but it did not stop, and she hissed in pain when the cloth singed her fingers.
And then she froze, for it seemed as though Adam moved. Heart pounding furiously, Eliza sat, her gaze riveted to his chest and the spot where his clothing still burned away, enough now that she could see the smooth skin beneath. Skin that began to turn a healthy, golden shade.
An inarticulate cry left her as she lurched up, her chair clattering to the floor behind her. His chest moved again, a deep rise and fall. A breath.
Wordlessly, she stood. Watching. Blood rushed in her ears. It could not be.
And yet… His dark brows twitched, a frown.
“Ahh…” Eliza stumbled forward, her hand going to his shoulder. “Adam?” Her lips felt numb. Hope was a choking thing within.
The thick fan of his black lashes fluttered, and then his eyes opened. His gaze locked on her. There it was, that visceral hit that took her breath. Every time he looked at her. Eliza found herself laughing and crying all at once. She threw herself upon him. Kissing his face, his big, stubborn nose, his soft, pliable mouth.
He lay slack, his breath coming out in weak pants, and then his strong arms crushed her to him, his fingers threading through her hair, pulling out strands in his haste. “Eliza.”
She kissed him, holding his beloved face in her hands. “Adam.” Another kiss. “How can it be?”
Adam pressed his forehead to hers. For a moment, they simply breathed. Eliza slid her finger under the ravaged edge of his tunic to stroke his smooth skin, smiling at the way his breath hitched.
He eased her back so that their eyes met. “Bean sídhe,” he said.
“W-what?” Eliza blinked away the tears and stared in confusion.
His mouth canted on a smile. “You. A wee and fey banshee.”
Despite her joy, indignation rocked through her. “You mean one of those ghoulish ghosts that screech and terrify villagers?”
Adam’s laugh was a deep, rolling rumble. “Oh, aye. Just as fae are tiny creatures with crystalline wings and death is eternal.”
Eliza let out a huff, but nuzzled into his warm, rough palm. “Then what? You believe me to be a banshee?”
His thumb stroked the curve of her cheek, and he gazed upon her with warm happiness. “Aye. The banshee. A rare and wonderful creature once thought to be myth. She whose mad laugh announces death, whose screech can cause it, and whose tears of sorrow can call the dead back to life.”
He gave one of her curls a gentle tug. “A golden-haired banshee, whose shout is a trumpet, heralding death.”
At that, Eliza sat up, her hand falling to his chest where his heart now beat a steady rhythm. Alive. Restored. “You th
ink I am the Golden Horn an Bás?”
“You do not?” he countered.
Eliza stroked a lock of his ink-black hair back from his brow. “Well, I suppose you’re alive.” With a flush of discomfort, she glanced down at her hand. A banshee. It felt right. “When Mellan killed you, I screamed. Adam” – she looked at him – “I killed him without any effort, as if the scream itself held power.”
His face remained expressionless for a moment, then broke into a wide grin. “As I said, banshee.” With a small laugh, Adam eased upright, groaning a bit. “Feels as though my heart has been ripped from my body.”
Eliza smacked his shoulder. “Don’t you jest. I saw you die.” On a breath, she wrapped herself around him, pushing between his thighs where he sat upon the pallet and burying her head in the crook of his neck. The scent of spices and luscious man filled her. Adam. Eliza held on tighter. “Don’t do that again.”
“All right, mo gradh,” he whispered. “I will not.” The press of his lips at her crown was warm and tender.
A thought occurred to her, and she went stock still. “Adam,” she said, slowly moving away from him, “when did you suspect I was banshee?”
He winced, contrition warring with defiance in his eyes. “Love…” He ran a hand through his hair. “When you destroyed that fae with your scream, I suspected. But when you told me what that wee shite oracle revealed, I knew you were the Horn an Bás that Mellan sought.”
Eliza’s breath left her with a hiss, her body going ice cold. “You planned it,” she ground out. “You let Mellan kill you!”
“Aye,” he said. “I did. Though I didn’t think he’d do it in such a painful manner.” Again he winced, and it was all Eliza could do not to clout his thick head. He rubbed his chest. “Having your heart ripped out hurts like the devil.”
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