by Elle Lincoln
Copyright © 2019 by Elle Lincoln
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or deceased, is entirely coincidental.
Editing by Elemental Editing and Proofreading
Cover Design by MoorBooks Design
Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
About the Author
Elle Lincoln’s Bookshelf
Magic exists everywhere. It lives each place our eyes land, our hands feel, and in every molecule of air we breathe. It is all around us, we just have to see.
Chapter 1
Mae
Fat droplets of rain fall from the sky to spatter upon my sweaty face, mingling and swirling to run in rivulets down my body, soaking me and chilling me to the bone. Yet, somehow, I stay poised upon the ledge, peering down at the streets below, hidden from wandering eyes. One small misstep...
My foot slips and rocks tumble to the ground beneath. I toss myself backward sliding against the tarry roof with nothing but my leather jacket to protect my elbows. A stray nail catches my jeans, ripping a hole through the thigh and sinking into my flesh. I hiss in pain as my scythe scatters across the rooftop before disappearing.
“Don’t say it.” I hear her huff of air, and I know what she’s about to say, I’ve heard it a thousand times in the past and I’m sure I’ll hear it even more.
“I told you.” My gram slaps her hands together, the clack only audible to my ears. “How is she supposed to be a goddess without the grace of one?”
“I see your concern.” I shut my eyes against Rhia’s condescending voice as she agrees with my gram. The rain begins to hammer my skin like pellets, stinging everywhere they land. “She is untrained.”
I roll to the side, ignoring the pain from the nail, and kneel to face the two women who haven’t left me alone in weeks. Who somehow believe they can train me to be a goddess.
Only there are multiple problems with their assessment. One, they are dead. Two, I’m already a freaking goddess.
“Pop on over here and let Rhia have a go at you.” My grandmother’s eyes sparkle with interest, probably eager to either hug me or watch Rhia beat the shit out of me. Again. As a Goddess of Death, I have the ability to transverse worlds where they can touch me, or in this case beat the shit out of me.
Ignoring them both, and their silent muttering, I summon my scythe and go back to my perch on the roof. Darkness spreads like a disease over the city below. Shadows sprawl like lazy cats across the asphalt. Doors snick with their locks sliding into place, and I can faintly make out scraping as chairs are pressed under their handles. Witch orbs float along the streets, unhelpful in comparison to their electric counterparts. Their light ambient at best, only creating darker shadows as they hover.
Weeks have passed since my first official run-in with Neit, leaving me feeling worthless. The two old women behind me are correct, I’m terribly untrained. Having grown up human left me with a weakness that’s hard to overcome—mental walls. Magic now courses through my veins, but my human thoughts leave me stuck in a limbo where I feel inadequate.
Yet here I sit, listening to the ramblings of the dead and watching the street below. Since that fateful night, Neit upped his enforcers. They plague the streets with their inhuman violence, now taking the roll of boogeyman to a whole new level that just pisses me off.
We had worked so fucking hard to make things safe, collaborating with the creatures of the night, then Neit throws us back, killing all our progress as he encourages the fuckers to create chaos. His reign now stretches to the fields miles away and farther beyond, where the state lines once lived. Somehow, he travels everywhere, and with him his followers.
A high-pitched scream echoes from an alley. I move before my brain registers the stone chipping away with my actions. My scythe feels heavy in my hands as I grip it in the rain while thunder rolls in the distance. I dart across the roof to peer over the edge at the alley below.
“Ya shouldn’t be out at night.”
“Not at all.”
Enforcers. Their bodies tower over a frightened young woman. Her eyes dart wildly around, her body shaking from fright. I grip the ledge of the building before ghosting down to the ground where I pop up behind the two goons.
With a gentle tap of my scythe on the shoulder of the nearest one, I make sure not to cut through his shirt and end this before it even begins. Magic courses through the ancient weapon, which can kill with just a nick of my blade—or rather reap. The creatures on the other side do the rest of the work.
The big-bodied man turns. I bet this one is a shifter, his thick, red, bushy brows pulled low over his eyes. “Well, I’ll be damned, it actually worked.”
Wait, what?
“Boss said all we had to do was threaten the girl and she’d show, did he not?” My eyes dart to the other man, who is small in stature but had power leaking off him, which leads me to believe he’s no less dangerous.
“It’s a trap, you really should have trained with me.” Rhia props herself against a brick house, somehow looking very much alive. Gram tries to mimic her and yet she falls through the wall. It would be comical, except I don’t think they are wrong here.
I back away slowly, my eyes tracking the men in front of me as well as the woman who no longer shakes in fear. No, her body stands tall as her fangs peek out through plump lips.
I sigh, disappointment weighing on me. I should have known better and a small part of me agrees with Rhia. Though I’m not sure I truly want to allow myself to get beat up by a ghost.
A fist comes flying at my head. I drop and spin, jumping back just in time to knock the vampiress back before she can sink her fangs into me. Since I’m apparently like an artisan chocolate to their species.
“You know I’m trying to help you guys out.” I twirl my scythe. See? I’ve learned a few things in the one practice session I had with the insane fae warrioress. Aka Rhia, aka Flynn’s mother.
“Help us?” The shifter laughs, his eyes squinting as rain pelts him. “Neit helps us, you’re just trying to make my life hell.” He hurls his body toward mine.
“If it were me, I’d have cut off his head by now,” Rhia states in a bored tone, while I duck once again.
“I’d rather not kill them if they are willing to help our cause,” I repeat for the hundredth time toward the lunatic fae.
“You should gut the one behind you at least.”
Shit. I adjust my scythe, jerking th
e handle behind me right into the stomach of the fucker that snuck up on me.
“You must have eyes everywhere, we’ll use this as a teachable moment.” I very much doubt she’s even looking at me. Probably picking at her nails that never fucking grow.
“What about the ones running in from there?” Gram’s voice doesn’t sound impressed. In fact, she sounds downright worried as I fight off my three attackers. Hell, weeks ago, I wouldn’t have even been able to do this.
Wait, more? I look at the vampiress, her mouth in a sneer as she clacks her teeth. Yeah, I’m done with her. I throw my scythe at her, but unfortunately that doesn’t work as it clatters to the ground and disappears. Vampires are fast, Mae.
I materialize my scythe once more and twist quickly with the blade out, hoping I’ll nick at least one of them.
“Boss wants ta see ya,” shifter boy states.
“Please just gut him already.” If I could kill the damn woman all over again, I just might.
“Yeah, that’s just not going to happen.” I ghost out of their circle, coming up behind one of the shifters. A small bit of regret seeps through me as my scythe rings through the air to slice the shins of man in front of me. His howl of painful rage churns my stomach. That isn’t even the worst of it. The sharp metal sliced through his jeans, and as the metal touched his skin, his blood, it cursed him.
His body crumples upon itself as a shock of green magic bursts from the metal. My eyes squint against the blinding light, and as it fades, so does the man and his soul.
“Where did he go?” The larger shifter spins.
Three others I haven’t yet got a good look at glare at me with malice. But more importantly, the eye my scythe.
“Where is he?” The vampiress’ breath skates over my skin, and I suppress the urge to shrink away from her. Still, the chill that spreads down my spine is telling. Too damn close, Mae.
“Dead.” My breath is nothing more than a whisper as I ghost behind the vampire, my scythe now resting upon her neck as I step back through the layers of reality. I’ve dubbed it ghosting because honestly, it’s their realm and it made sense.
“Where did she...”
“Don’t move.” My limp red hair hangs from my face in wet clumps. Rain skims my body, soaking me to the bone. “Do you know what this is?” I keep my voice calm, mellow. The scythe speaks for itself.
“It’s a weapon,” one of the men scoffs.
“It isn’t just any weapon.” My eyes slide to the blade, and with but a thought, magic pools down the handle in green waves. “Tell me, vampire, do you feel that?”
“Oh, finally she gets lethal.” I attempt to ignore Rhia.
“She gets that from me.”
“Sure, she does.” I can almost visualize the eye roll accompanying that statement.
“Tell me, do you feel that? Tell your friends here.” I wave the magic at her throat, knowing that with just a silent push her life is forfeit.
My gaze slides to the other four goons, watching them as she finally speaks. “I feel,” she begins, but pauses, her body slipping past my blade as she damn near ghosts to my neck where her fangs sink into my neck.
“Oh, look, we are going to have to hide this from Flynn again,” Rhia drawls.
“We were so close this time,” Gram adds.
I feel the slice of her fangs sink deeper as her groan of pleasure fills the air. Twisting my scythe, I jerk it backwards, sliding the blade deep into her gut. With a groan, her teeth pop free, and in the next flash of green magic she’s gone.
“Anyone else?” I slap a hand against my bleeding neck, pissed that I let another vampire get the best of me. No wonder they were joining Neit’s ranks in droves. With the promise of my blood on his silver tongue, they’d all come running. “No? Good.”
Furious, I throw my scythe, this time hitting the larger shifter in the chest. Magic blasts through the air as my scythe and the shifter vanish from sight.
“Tell your boss,” I spit the word, “he can go fuck himself.”
Knowing they won’t attack, I limp away, dismissing them with my back turned. They are no longer a threat to me. I hear their feet stomp the sidewalk as they run off.
“You are untrained,” Rhia notes.
The blood loss is creating a pins and needles sensation, which is swiftly coursing through my limbs. “No, not now.” Cranky, wet, and hungry, I cut her off. Her huff of annoyance makes me feel just marginally bad and I whirl back to her. “Fine, but keep the bruises to a minimum. Last time Flynn saw one, he got this look…” I shake my head, because it was almost as if he knew how I got that bruise.
“Because I trained him,” she states proudly.
But I get the feeling it wasn’t like that at all. “You mean you tried to kill him. Repeatedly.”
“That is how the fae train,” she counters simply.
“You train by intending to kill your opponent.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Good thing I can’t die,” I mutter.
“All things can die,” Gram points out, reminding me that immortality is not infinite. It just means I’m harder to kill than most.
I spin around, heading for Gramp’s house, which isn’t far from the building Flynn owns. I just want my bed and a place to clean up all this blood. I yearn for a hot shower, but the solar panels only just started to go up on the house yesterday. I long for the day when they are firmly in place.
“Why do you go there?” Rhia asks this question every time I sneak out to hunt.
“Blood,” I remind her.
“Yes, but Flynn has running water.” Her confusion at the simplest, logical answer is astounding. As though the fae only think in a linear fashion, but I sure as hell know they don’t.
“I don’t want him to see the blood, Rhia.” Or face him. Not yet.
“You avoid the boy,” Gram points out. “Ya know, when Gramps and I would fight we always had make up...”
“No!” My shout rings through the night, echoing off the buildings. “Gram, no.”
“She is correct,” Rhia chimes in. “Do you not find my son worthy?”
I stop, turning to the two women who really have become the bane of my existence. Rhia stares at me like she’s mentally gutting me—which she probably is. Gram is smiling like a lunatic and I’m starting to wonder if it’s only the fae who lose their minds. My bet is no.
“Yes, I find your son...” I wave my hands all around. “Worthy.” The smile she gives me is pure torture. “I just need some time to myself.”
“Lie,” Rhia states, reminding me that fae magic seeps through into the afterlife.
I begin walking again, wondering if there’s a way to banish ghosts. I think I read something about salt once. I may have to go to the library in the morning.
“Why did you lie?” Gram questions.
I’m so close, the Victorian looming in the distance. Not so long ago the night terrified me, keeping me bound to the house like a prisoner as soon as the sun began to set. But now, while I still fear the dark, the dark is learning to fear me.
Yet Gram’s question haunts my consciousness. Why did I lie? The truth lurks in the back of my mind, swirling there like ominous clouds building pressure in a hurricane. The truth? He’s keeping something from me. It was there in his eyes the moment I woke up from Neit’s attack, in the way his touch felt cool and distant, and how he couldn’t look me in the eyes. When his head canted to the side, his lips avoiding mine in a kiss. His secrets ran deep, but now they ooze like a festering wound, poisoning our relationship.
I don’t answer them as my booted heels stomp up the wooden slats, nor as I enter the silent house. In fact, as I glance over my shoulder and find nothing there except air, I can’t help but wonder how deep those secrets run. And if they spill over, what the fallout would be? There are days I wish I could return to the silent library, curled in my leather chair with a hot cup of coffee and a good book.
But those days are gone. The illusion warping as reality bleeds into existence, sho
wcasing a world far deadlier than fiction.
Chapter 2
Mae
Silence suffocates me like a noose. The house has sat devoid of life ever since most of us moved over to what I’ve deemed headquarters. There is a constant struggle for silence there and yet here it surrounds me.
The door slams shut, its hinges over oiled. Witch’s orbs float down the hallway, casting a sepia light and elongating the shadows. My leather jacket clings to me like a second skin as I peel it off and drop it on a hanger. A small twinge of pain pierces my neck, a reminder of why I’m here and not downtown.
“Gramps?” My voice sounds hollow and bored, because I know he isn’t here. His days are spent down at the jail, keeping the mortals from overthrowing everyone else. I wish I could blame them and curse at them for not seeing the bigger picture, but I get it. I was them not that long ago. Living day to day, watching the sun and praying for some kind of salvation to lead me from my shadowed hell.
Then my prayer came true in the form of immortality. My heart yearns for the sense of community and yet, where do I even belong? With the mortals? The immortals? I walk the line of both worlds, one that creates a divide between themselves as time goes on, and now winter taunts us with her imminent arrival. Soon the world will know what winter we’ll face.
Immortal or mortal. The Realm, from what I’ve gleaned, wasn’t the most habitable of places, with lakes of poison and numerous, murdering flora. Then there were the winters. I want to blame the Winter Court, and yet they aren’t to blame. They only hold the gifted power of winter where they thrive, they cannot control it—or so I’ve been told. Rhia is evasive with her truths. I have to pry it out of her by letting her follow me around when her son is in the room.
It’s disconcerting.
A winter in the Realm is nothing like winter here, on Earth. Or what’s left of it. There are some who whisper a new name. Neither Earth nor the Realm, but a reminder to the gods of whence they came—Tír Na. Either way, I’m expecting a blizzard to wipe out both species.
The tunnels that run beneath this city are looking more and more useful.
