The Castle of Spirit and Sorrow

by Steffanie Holmes

  I reached out to grab him, but he retreated into the shadows as more dust toppled from the roof. My body pitched forward, and the dust swallowed me.

  21

  ROWAN

  “Maeve?”

  I rapped my fist against the door to the bedroom. Nothing. I’d already tried the door handle and it wouldn’t. Maeve must’ve woken up after Aline brought her sleeping body in from the car and locked it. I knew I should leave her to sleep, but I couldn’t stand her not talking to me and thinking badly of me. I wanted to tell her about my visit with Lady Pembroke. I wanted to lift this heaviness in my heart with her presence, just for a moment.

  I rapped again, harder, the urgency rising in my throat. “It’s Rowan. Please talk to me.”

  No sound. Panic shot through my body. First Corbin, then Arthur, what if Maeve…

  I jiggled the handle between shaking fingers, but it was just as locked as before. I stepped back and threw my body at the door. My shoulder slammed into the wood, but it didn’t give a millimeter. Frustrated, I leaned back and kicked out with my foot, the way I’d seen Arthur do in his drills a million times.

  “Ow,” I moaned as pain shot up my leg. How’d Arthur make that look so easy? Wood was hard. Clearly, there was some trick to this. I swung my throbbing foot back and kicked at the door again.

  Just as my foot skimmed the surface of the wood, Maeve flung open the door. I flailed my arms to regain my balance, but it was too late – I sailed straight into the room, toppled over the dressing table, and landed in a heap on the rug at the foot of the bed. Pain shot up my side.

  “Rowan, are you okay?” Maeve fell to my side, her voice tight with concern.

  “Fine,” I gasped, pulling myself into a kneeling position. I grazed her cheek with my fingers. Her eyes were ringed with red. “Maeve, please, talk to me. I can’t stand it if you don’t talk to me.”

  She leaned back against the bed and ran her fingers through her short, lank hair. “Why were you kicking the door?”

  “Because you locked it and I thought…” I gasped. “I thought you…”

  “It wasn’t locked.” Maeve stood up and turned the handle. “Look, there isn’t even a lock on this door.”

  Relief washed over my body. I leaned against the end of the bed, hugging my feet to my chest and resting my head on top. I studied the deep-pile rug, running my fingers through the fibers. The urge to count them crept up my spine, but I was able to push it back. “I must’ve been so scared that I couldn’t turn it properly.”

  “Oh, Rowan.” Maeve’s warm arms circled my neck. She pressed her face into my shoulder, and despite everything, my heart soared. “I’m sorry for scaring you, and I’m sorry for yelling at you before. What you said at the hospital—”

  “About the Post-it notes?”

  “Seeing his handwriting killed me.” Maeve sniffed, snuggling her face deeper, muffling her voice in my dreads. “I can’t hope. Do you understand? I’m hanging on by a thread here. If I hope, and it turns out I’m wrong and I have to mourn his death all over again, then…” she sucked in a shuddering breath. “I’m not strong enough to deal with that, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said. I wasn’t strong enough to deal with that, either. I had to cling to this belief that Corbin was still alive.

  “Why did he have to die, Rowan?”

  I bent my head to hers, planting my lips on her crown. Corbin was everything to both of us. I thought it was Maeve that bound us all together – and she did – but without Corbin, the Briarwood coven wouldn’t even exist. I’d still be living on the streets in London, if my sickness hadn’t claimed me already. Flynn would be a low-level mobster in Dublin, his artistic talent limited to illegal graffiti. Arthur would be an arsonist. Blake… well, we never would’ve met Blake and we never would’ve accepted him. Corbin was the one who took broken people and made them whole again.

  Maeve turned her body toward me and I fell into her arms, burying myself in her soft, short hair. We rolled on the rug, wrapping ourselves up in each other. Our lips met for the first time since Corbin’s death, and we drank the sorrow from each other through warm, tender kisses.

  Tears streaked Maeve’s face, mingling with my own. The salty droplets puddled over our lips as we drew up our memories of Corbin into a hopeless, lonely, beautiful kiss.

  “I miss him,” I whispered.

  “I know,” she whispered back. “I fucking know.”

  We sank into each other, drowning in our sorrow, wishing for something that couldn’t be true. My hands snaked under her rumpled t-shirt, my palms pressing into warm, living skin. My earth magic pattered against my palms like rain droplets on the garden path. She moaned against my lips, pressing her body into mine.

  Maeve and I, we were alive, we were flesh and meat and bleeding hearts. As our kiss heated up, our grief transformed and became hunger, a need for skin against skin and a human connection that would drive out the pain. We tore at each other in our haste. Seams ripped. Sleeves caught on wrists. We tossed and tumbled on an ocean of grief, our bodies driftwood crashing together in the storm.

  Her tongue seared against mine. My hands cupped her breasts, searching her chest for the thunder of her beating heart. Blood rushed to my ears as she wrapped her fingers around my shaft and dragged a dark pleasure through every vein and sinew of my body.

  I only pulled myself from the moment to remember to grab a condom, the last one I had in my pocket from what felt like a lifetime ago. Maeve rolled it on for me and pulled me against her.

  As I entered her, fresh tears streamed down her face. Maeve’s body curled around me, her heat welcome solace against the cold grief washing over my heart. We moved together, riding that ocean of grief, becoming one with the battering waves.

  Pressure built inside me. I collapsed against her, a mess of shuddering pleasure and wrenching pain. Maeve clung to me, her body rocking with silent sobs. I wrapped my arms around her, conscious of how fragile she was, how precious.

  Footsteps bounded along the hallway, approaching our room. My heart clenched as though someone held it in their fist and squeezed. I scrambled off Maeve and managed to pull my trousers back on just as Flynn burst into the room.

  “Get your arses up right now,” he yelled, flailing his arms. “Daigh’s missing!”

  22

  MAEVE

  I tore myself from Rowan’s arms and bolted for the door, grabbing Rowan’s hoodie off the floor as I ran past. How can Daigh be missing? There’s no way he could’ve escaped from that room—

  It was completely impossible, and yet…

  The vision of Corbin’s face from my dream burned behind my eyes. He said this would happen.

  It’s a coincidence. Corbin is just your subconscious. He’s not telling you what will happen in the future.

  For the first time, doubt flickered across my mind. I’d seen the room where we kept Daigh. I knew how secure it was. I knew he had no powers. Not even my subconscious – which was every bit as logical as my conscious mind – would have assumed he’d escape. And the idea had been planted in my head by Corbin just moments before it really happened…

  “Maeve, your trousers!”

  I whirled around. Flynn tossed my jeans into my arms. I shoved my feet inside – no time for socks or panties – and scrambled into the hall. Flynn and Rowan thudded after me.

  I sprinted down the grand staircase, pulling Rowan’s hoodie over my naked chest. Footsteps pounded behind me. “Einstein, wait for us.”

  I didn’t wait. I plunged into the labyrinthine hallways, some sort of instinct directing me to the correct room. The others had already gathered in Ryan’s gallery room, surveying the damage. And what damage there was.

  The short hallway leading to the safe no longer existed. In its place was an enormous charred hole. Bits of drywall and shards of the steel door littered the hardwood floor where the wood hadn’t burned to a crisp or curled up.

  Flynn picked up a piece of metal between his fingers. “It’s been
shattered,” he whispered. “Like it’s bloody glass.”

  “That’s twelve-inch bulletproof steel,” Ryan picked through a pile of debris. He held up a tangle of cords and metal teeth – what remained of the keypad and lock. “It’s supposed to be able to withstand nuclear fallout.”

  “Apparently it’s not demon-proof,” I growled. It made perfect sense. “A fae couldn’t have done this, not with their allergy to metal. This is what Daigh traded for his powers – an escape route. He knew we’d keep him alive and try to hold him.”

  “He might’ve left my art intact,” Ryan picked up the corner of a gilded frame that had fallen from the wall beside the hallway. Tatters of canvas hung from the wood. “This was a Cezanne.”

  “We’ve got to find him.”

  “Why?” Ryan kicked debris across the floor. “He’s history. He can’t go back to the fae – not now they know he doesn’t have any powers.”

  “We can’t just leave him wandering around the village!” I yelled. “He could hurt people.”

  “He can’t do anything now he’s human,” Flynn pointed out.

  “I don’t think so. A human couldn’t have done this. If Daigh traded his powers, he must’ve done it with a demon.”

  “Maeve.” Flynn grabbed my shoulder, shaking me hard enough to clatter my teeth together. “What’s wrong? You’ve gone as pale as a wee goth kid.”

  “I had another dream,” I sobbed. “I think… I can’t explain it, but I just have this feeling…”

  Flynn’s fingers dug into my shoulders, his eyes a perfect storm of emotion. “Tell us everything you saw, Einstein.”

  “Corbin was there, and Arthur.” Behind Flynn, Rowan flinched, his eyes filling with pain. I kept talking. “But Arthur was just this nearly invisible shape. He couldn’t speak. Corbin said he had one foot in both worlds. And then he pulled Liah out of the darkness and—”

  “Liah?” Blake appeared by my side, his face stony.

  I sniffed. “She said Daigh was torturing her so she’d compel the villagers to attack the castle. I guess… he could have used her to hide his lack of power from the other fae. She said she was on our side this whole time.”

  “Fae lie,” Blake whispered.

  “But she didn’t kill you! Back at the church, she had the chance to get to me through you, and she didn’t take it. She may bear me no kind feelings, but when it came down to it she wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “Are you saying this is a real dream?” Ryan demanded, straightening up and letting a scrap of canvas flutter to the ground.

  “Yes. No. I think so.” I threw up my hands. “I don’t know!”

  “If it is real…” Flynn whistled. “Then Corbin was right. Daigh’s making a move on the crown of Hell.”

  “And he’ll do it soon, while the Slaugh are riding and we’re all distracted.” I glanced up at Clara, who hovered in the doorway with Aline, Smithers, and Jane. “When will they come?”

  “Tonight, at the stroke of midnight,” she said.

  “I’ll call Officer Judge,” Flynn pulled out his phone. “She’ll organize a search of the village. If he can’t act until then, he might be hiding out somewhere.” I raised an eyebrow at the idea of calling the officer who’d been part of the mob, and Flynn filled us in on the conversation he’d had with Wallace and Judge after he returned to Briarwood. I hoped he was right, that we could trust her.

  With the press at the gates, we couldn’t go out to look for Daigh ourselves. Aline and Clara both tried a scrying spell to search for him, but because he didn’t have his fae power any longer, they came up with nothing. I sent out my spirit magic to Flynn’s statue and Ryan’s painting, and found them humming with belief. We were ready. The only thing we could do was wait.

  Simon laid food out for us in the kitchen. We all sat around the island, staring at the platters of cold meat and cheese and fresh bread, unable to eat a morsel. The only sound was the clatter of camera shutters and excited hum of the media circus wafting in through the open window. Finally, I pushed my chair back.

  “Get some sleep,” Ryan said. “Even with the belief magic, the battle tonight will be fierce.”

  As if I needed reminding. I trudged down the hallway toward the guest wing. Footsteps clattered after me. Flynn fell in step beside me. He ran his hand down my arm, leaving behind a trail of heat. “Your skin’s sizzling with magic, Einstein,” he grinned.

  “Rowan might’ve had something to do with that.” On the other side of me, Rowan stiffened.

  “I guess you don’t need an extra magical boost?” Flynn lifted an eyebrow suggestively. Blake appeared behind him, flashing me his trademark smirk.

  “I didn’t say that,” I replied, my stomach fluttering with heat.

  I turned a corner in the hall. Blake grabbed my hand and spun my body around, so I ended up with my back against the wall, his chest pressed against mine. His fingers grazed over my breast, bringing my nipple to attention through the thin fabric of my t-shirt.

  I still hadn’t forgiven him for invading my dream and running off with Rowan, but his emerald eyes smoldered with my own reflected desire. My body arched against him. I needed to lose myself in him.

  Blake’s lips caught mine, blazing fire through my body. All thoughts of resting and demons and the Slaugh flew from my mind as his kiss broke down all my barriers. I was wide open, and he poured his desire into me.

  I hooked my legs behind Blake’s. He shoved me into the wall, grinding his hard cock against my sex until my body begged for release. His hands shoved up my shirt and bra and pinched my nipples. I whimpered against his lips as the pain only heightened the burning heat inside me.

  I adjusted my leg, accidentally kicking a side table and knocking over an ugly ceramic vase. Flynn dived and caught it before it smashed on the marble floor.

  “We should probably take this back to our bedroom,” Flynn whispered, setting the vase right. Reluctantly, Blake slid off me, and he and Flynn both took my hands. “We wouldn’t want to destroy any more of Ryan’s house.”

  My body was so fired up that right then I didn’t care who saw us. I wanted the whole world to know how much I loved these boys, how they completed me in a way I never thought possible.

  We ran to our bedroom. Blake sat on the edge of the bed, pulling me down so I straddled him. His cock ground against me through his black jeans. Flynn climbed up behind us, tugging off my shirt and bra and stroking my breasts until I moaned against Blake’s relentless tongue.

  As Blake’s kisses stoked the fires of my need, Flynn kissed along my collarbone, drawing a moan of desire from deep inside me. Rowan’s soft hands skimmed my sides and circled my breasts, his touch liquid fire against my skin.

  “On your back, Princess,” Blake grinned, throwing me on the bed. “Let all of us get a go at you.”

  I obeyed, clambering back and laying my body across the sheets. Blake’s mouth closed over my nipple, sucking it hard. My back arched with pleasure. My hands flew to his head, winding my fingers through his hair, encouraging him to suck harder. He nipped at the tip and stars danced in my eyes.

  “Oh, we want a bit of pain today, do we?” Blake’s eyes glinted. He grabbed my wrists in both hands and held them above my head. “As always, Princess, I am but a humble servant.”

  His teeth grazed the edge of my nipple as his fingers dug into my wrists. Someone moved between my legs as a second pair of lips closed over my other nipple, catching it between teeth and tongue. Rowan’s dreadlocks fanned over my thighs as he kissed a trail up my legs, his tongue darting inside me, teasing the ache in my belly to the breaking point before closing his lips over my clit.

  Rowan stroked his tongue over me, soft and languid, a direct contrast to the hardness of Blake and Flynn. The ache inside me filled with a growing well of magic. My legs jerked as Rowan flicked his tongue against me, and my body shuddered with an intense orgasm.

  I’d barely recovered when Flynn batted Rowan out of the way. “You’ve already had your turn today,
mate.”

  “Hey,” I protested, my voice tight with mounting pleasure. “There’s plenty of Maeve to go around… ”

  My protests faded into groans of ecstasy as Flynn attacked my clit with his tongue while Blake devoured my mouth, biting my lip and pinching my nipples until another wild orgasm tore through me. I was still crying out when Blake grabbed my ankles, jerking my body across the bed and piercing me on his cock.

  We crashed into each other, two opposing forces meeting in an inferno of chemical reactions. Blake drove himself into me with a power and fury I’d never known before, and I bucked my hips to meet every stroke with my own power.

  Blake’s smirk wavered as his muscles tightened and the lip of his cock jerked inside me. My fingers tightened around his shoulders, relishing as his orgasm claimed him, and for a moment I got a precious glimpse beyond his facade to the lonely boy raised by the fae who was learning what it was to love a family and to lose them.

  Blake slunk back and Flynn climbed up beside me. I wrapped my body around his, my spirit magic crackling against his skin. Flynn, the joker who had been my rock ever since Corbin and Arthur left us, who thought he contributed nothing but was actually the glue that held our coven together. I needed to show him how much he was loved and needed. I needed him to free himself.

  I rolled onto my stomach, bending my knees and thrusting my ass in the air. Flynn grabbed my thighs and thrust inside me, his cock twitching as I took in his whole length with a gasp.

  Flynn bucked against me, his strokes frantic, without rhythm or sense. He had so much baggage, so much insecurity about himself and his place in the world. If I could heal him through my body, then that was the greatest gift I could give him.

  Rowan came around the front of me, and I took his cock in my mouth, licking as far down his enormous shaft as I could reach. Rowan’s eyelids fluttered shut as my tongue slid down his length. Every thrust of Flynn’s drove him deeper into my throat. So full of two of my guys, so willing to give myself over completely to their bodies and their souls.