by S. D. Grimm
The creatures in the sky balked, hovering just outside of the storm.
The time was now. Fire in the sky crackled. “Hold on, Serena.” She pointed her dagger into the air.
A bolt sent life through her, and she caught the lightning. It filled her weapon and she shot her arm forward. Stared at the angry pit. Pulsed her energy toward it. She released the dagger, and it plummeted to the earth, sending the lightning strike ahead of it.
A crack jolted the earth and sky at the same time. Had it worked? Stormcloud took them higher, out of the electricity’s reach.
The sky turned from burnt red to bright yellow. Red melted away, a receding bloodstain, leaving the white of lightning and then a flash of blue. Shrieking animals fled, keeping to the shadows.
The storm receded and light rain sprinkled around them. Cleansing rain. Slowly, red overtook the sky again, but not as dark as before.
Jayden’s heart thundered in her chest, and she felt as though she’d just run for an eternity.
Serena gasped and shook Jayden’s shoulders. “You did it.”
A dark mark covered the ground where the chasm had been. A healing scar. And her dagger protruded from the center. It hadn’t closed all of the surface cracks, but the huge hole was covered. The lightning had worked.
Serena squeezed her tight, and Jayden slumped into her embrace, light-headed. Serena touched her temples. “That took a lot of energy out of you.”
“I’m certain I couldn’t do it again. Not until I’ve rested.”
“Here.” Some of Serena’s strength poured into her, and Jayden squeezed her arm. This woman, whom she loved like a sister, always had the healing she needed.
“Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you and Stormcloud.”
“We all work together. No reason to thank me for that.”
Stormcloud fluttered to the ground, and as they slid from her back, Ethan and Logan rushed over.
Dash approached, too, his horn stained with blood. “I think we got all those hunting us, but we better get out of here. They retreated to the shadows of the Mistress’s presence—they are too weak to be far from her. They tore out looking for blood on their way to find her. But as she gets stronger, their reach will extend further.”
Logan was breathless. He looked at Jayden. “Well done. I didn’t know you could—”
“I didn’t either. Not until yesterday.” She smiled at Stormcloud.
Ethan returned her dagger. “You okay?” he whispered and pulled her close.
She hugged him tight. “For now.”
Quinn approached them, holding the map book close but no longer clutching it like a scared child. She looked nearly fourteen now.
Jayden felt for Quinn’s emotions, and a deep-rooted fear seeped through her. “What’s wrong, Quinn?”
“The trees have cut us off from the chasm. The creatures can’t get to us for now, but we aren’t going to be safe here for long.” Quinn hugged her arms around herself and the book. “But it’s the prison that worries me.”
“What about it?” Logan asked.
“Jayden’s dagger is stuck there. She closed it effectively. The oak tree will hold that dagger down with its roots. No one who isn’t intended to pluck it from the earth will be able to.” She turned to Logan. “But now we won’t be able to put the Mistress back.”
Jayden’s knees weakened, and she sank to the ground. What have I done?
“She must be killed,” Quinn said. “But we need the Wielder and all four Deliverers.”
Logan wiped his hand over his face. “First we need to get away from here. Quinn, did the trees tell you what you needed to know? Do you know who the other Deliverer is?”
“Yes. The fourth Deliverer is in the palace.”
Logan bowed his head. “I should have been more specific. I know my son is there. Do you know where the other male Deliverer is?”
“I’m sorry?”
“We have Jayden and Serena. My son, Connor, is at the palace. I need the fourth. It’s the child who went to Nivek.”
“Oh.” Quinn’s hazel eyes widened. “I thought you knew.”
Something in Jayden’s chest squeezed tight and galloped forward at once. She was sensing Logan’s emotions. Had the child died? Could they defeat the Mistress without the final Deliverer now that the prison was closed?
Logan swallowed. “Knew what?”
“Ethan is the other Deliverer.”
Chapter 4
Black Chasms
On four paws, Connor stepped over the cracked earth. Black liquid, as dark and sticky as pitch, bubbled up from the surface. He stooped down and sniffed. It smelled the same as old, decaying blood. A hissing sound, like a swarm of bees, filtered through him. The sky wasn’t as dark now, but if it rained today, he would expect it to rain red.
The earth was dying. He felt it like aftershocks from an earthquake. And the ground split wider at the crack. A tree wailed out in pain and fell into a chasm.
Then a creature laughed and rose from the surface. More monsters followed. The dark beasts.
“I knew you’d come.” A voice hissed around him. Through him. His fur stood on end.
This was a dream. He was dreaming.
“It’s more than a dream.”
A vision. Connor turned. A woman stood behind him, separated from him by the chasm. The scarlet sky seemed like a sunset behind her. Auburn hair blew in the wind, and she pierced him with eyes as blue as a clear lake. She was beautiful.
The Mistress.
He bristled and growled. “Step into the light. Let me see how you’ve decayed.”
She shrieked as the vision shifted. Her hair turned stringy, and she smelled of death. Her skin became pale and bony, and her eyes clouded. The sunset dripped like spreading wine. “You know it’s you I want. I’ve always wanted you. I will have you for my husband, or I will kill you.”
“Expect to kill me, then. I will destroy you.”
She laughed. A horrible sound that cracked the earth. Hounds bayed, and their sounds echoed through the ground.
The hair on his back stood up in a straight line. The abysshounds were calling. They were hunting.
“They search for the Deliverers. I will find all of you. I will take their powers, but I will spare yours. And I will spare you, but I will leave them as dead husks on the ground. Then I will walk over their bodies to my wedding altar. To you, powerful one. Dark one.”
A low growl rumbled in his throat. “You cannot have me.”
Two tall wolfish forms stepped out from the folds of her dress. Their eyes burned with heat. Eyes too large for their faces. One stepped forward. “Smoke talked of you and your powers. I am an animal, but you don’t control me.”
Connor froze. No one knew his true powers. Control wasn’t the right word, but close enough.
“I am Gnarg. Would you like to see your death?” The creature’s canine teeth unfolded—the same as a serpent’s fangs—as he opened his mouth wider than natural for any canine. “You know what I am, don’t you?”
A blackdog. Death bringer. Barghest. Created by the Mistress of Shadows, Gnarg the male and Garmr the female. They foretold death. Showed it to their victims, then claimed them when the time came. They both used fear to scare their victims to death. Then the Mistress collected those fears to breed new blackdogs. Fears fathered the abysshounds.
Connor shivered. The abysshounds were nothing like him. They may be wolfish, but they stood taller, towered above him. Their fur resembled hot embers, glowing red and black.
“You’re afraid,” Gnarg said. “You fear that you will become me. A destroyer. You already are.”
Connor willed himself to wake. He had to before Gnarg showed him his death and used the vision to destroy him. His eyes opened. He couldn’t control his breathing.
“She will find you and have you for her own.” Gnarg’s final words thundered in Connor’s skull. He found himself curled up on the floor in his wolf form.
A strange pull tugged him like anoth
er lasso trying to wrap him with a trace spell. The Mistress was looking for him. He wouldn’t be able to use his powers. If he did, he’d be a flame and she’d be a very dangerous moth.
Had the chasm only opened last night? Already it felt so strong. He could sense the cursed animals fleeing the confines of their prison, yet he knew they drew closer to where he was. His heart skipped a beat—that meant the Mistress was close. Here in the palace. He trembled. He’d have to stay clear of her or she’d recognize him.
Connor changed into a man and grabbed his clothes. He had to tell Luc and Madison that he was leaving. Remaining here was too dangerous. He still needed to stay away from the other Deliverers, though. He was a lone wolf now. As it should have been all along. His mother, Rebekah, had hoped he’d be able to have a family someday, but she didn’t really understand the scope of his powers. It was better this way.
He sighed and sank to the ground, leaned back against his bed, and cupped his head in his hands. This was the danger of getting attached to people. He had one purpose: lock the Mistress away forever. To do that, he’d kill everyone close to him, unless he could avoid using his powers. Because he was a fool if he thought he could keep anyone safe.
He’d just have to meet up with Luc and see if his friend could help Madison escape. The poor Healer. She needed to be freed from Franco’s hold.
Something scratched across his spine like the clawing of mice against his wall. He felt the Mistress sniffing.
He shivered. His body tried to shift into wolf form.
Heat.
Skin.
Heat.
Fur.
Emotions toyed with his control. He focused on his human form. He shouldn’t need to. Being a human was him; being a wolf was him. Taking on someone else’s form took energy from him, as did shifting, but these two forms were his—him. He should have total control over which form to remain in. The anger that made him want to change wasn’t his. That anger belonged to his powers. Those weren’t his.
Connor focused. Breathed to calm himself. Opened his eyes. They flashed a reflection of light in the mirror across from him: wolf eyes. Human form. His eyes only changed when he took on another person’s form. Whether wolf or man, Connor had the same color eyes.
Light flashed into them again. Crackles. His power. The things he could do. He couldn’t let his powers manifest. Couldn’t let them try to infiltrate him. He had to keep them buried. The memory of a blue porcelain bowl shattering. A mirror cracking. The pond drying like a desert puddle in the sun. Dead animals. Dead trees. So much death when his powers trickled out or escaped.
Rebekah’s voice in his ear reminded him: “Connor, you must hide your power. The things you can do could destroy us all if you’re not careful. You are a weapon, my son. A dangerous weapon.”
“But I don’t want to destroy you. I don’t want to destroy anything.”
Her lips were soft on his forehead. “That’s why you must control it. Keep it buried.”
“When I’m angry, it comes out.”
She looked into his eyes, her love palpable. “I know, my son. You want to help. To heal. You are noble. You are good. Your power is yours for a reason.”
He’d believed her then. When he was young and trusting. But now? He’d dried too many ponds. Watched fish suffocate while he could do nothing to save them. He’d made trees explode. The shards of wood impaled poor animals that died with wide eyes asking him, “Why?” He’d caused a boulder to break and knocked a nest of baby birds to the ground. Life crippled when he used his powers. If this power was his burden, perhaps the best way to help was to stay away from the others.
The man is you.
The thought came softly, a tiny footprint on his heart. Was it his thought? He didn’t think so, yet he believed it like it was his own thought, even if it had surprised him. Something Rebekah would say. He might be a wolf, but he was a man. Both. He cared. He was supposed to stick to the mission. It was harder to have a plan when he cared for the people he’d likely be leading to their deaths.
The others, Ethan and Jayden, were they even okay? He should go find them, but that tug in his heart whispered: stay.
Why?
The wolf is you.
It was true. The instinct in him had served him flawlessly so far. He’d pushed Rebekah out of the window, trusted the gryphon to catch her, led Ethan to Quinn. He had to help from afar. That’s what he was best at. Up close, he was too dangerous. One more thought broke into his head unbidden:
Your power is you.
Chapter 5
Belly of the Beast
A stab of pain pressed into Ryan’s side and he jolted awake. His arms wouldn’t move the way he wanted, and pins and needles shot through them. The soft, velvety fur of Mist, Belladonna’s black lion, rubbed against his cheek. He tried to sit up, but his arms were tied around the creature’s neck. He must have fallen asleep on top of it. Belladonna had tied him to it and mounted the black beast behind him.
Of all the things to fall asleep on, a black lion?
“Morning, pet.” Belladonna’s voice carried to his ear from behind him, and her warm body pressed against his back. “We’re home.”
Ryan craned his neck at the towering brick wall surrounding the palace. A shudder raced through him, and Belladonna laughed her sultry laugh. He’d been in the belly of this beast before and almost hadn’t made it out alive. This time he’d make it his lair. He’d be the dragon that lured Belladonna to her demise.
If only his insides would stop tying into knots.
Belladonna dropped off the creature and cut his ropes. Ryan slid, trying to gain purchase on the slick fur as he forced his sleep-weakened arms to move. His shoulders ached. He grabbed fur. The big cat hissed and the scent resembled sour wine—venom. He knew that smell. Flinching, he let go of his hold and fell to the ground.
Belladonna inched closer. “Don’t think about running, or I’ll have to heal you of a few arrow wounds to the spine.”
Ryan swallowed and looked behind him at the two men accompanying her. Their smiles baited him to run.
Being a dragon was harder than he’d thought. They always appeared so calm until they struck. Running now would be a death wish. But complying would be suicide.
Still, he had to get inside, right? After all, according to Morgan, the pretty brunette he’d met at the Winking Fox, he was supposed to be heading to the palace—if her vision was true. She was counting on him to save her sister, Madison. And to find a key. Infiltrate the king’s guard. Something astonishingly stupid like that. She’d also mentioned kissing a blonde, though. So there was that.
Was it wrong to hope that’d be Serena?
Either way, for the plan to work, he had to make Belladonna believe he was her Cain or whatever her old lover’s name was. If he didn’t run now—like a scared Ryan would—she’d see through his motives.
He’d find that bloody key all right. And he’d free Madison from the clutches of the palace. And the only kissing he’d be doing would be when Serena came for him. If she came for him. Thank the Creator that Morgan had seen him kissing a blonde-haired girl and not crazy Belladonna. After being healed from the black lion venom, he’d experienced every sensation as if it were happening for the first time. As if he could feel it fully through every fiber of his being. A new chance. A gift. So he’d save that new first kiss for someone special.
That meant he had one thing to look forward to in the palace.
He could stay strong and stoic for that.
Strong and stoic: the Granden motto. He was a Granden after all. So it had to be in his blood. Even if right now, a couple of arrows in the back scared him to death. It was sure to feel pretty awful.
Honestly, why was this his burden?
What was he, some hero? No. And no one in their right mind would mistake him for one.
“If you seek chivalry, you’re on the wrong side, Knight. My pawns are creatures of darkness.”
The voice hissed in his head, and
he shook it away. Then he looked up at Belladonna’s challenging smile to see if she noticed that he was plagued by the voice of a madwoman in his head—a white lion who taunted him. Belladonna dared him to disobey her. So did the voice in his head. He wasn’t their pawn. He was a dragon, luring both of them to their doom. He ran.
The sound of a bowstring twang, soft and subtle, vibrated behind him. He’d felt arrows in his flesh before. The pain of this one had most definitely been intensified since the black lion venom.
Mist landed in front of Ryan. Crimson claws extended. Yellow-moon eyes locked onto him. It thrashed its tail and pounced. Fire bled into his palms. He’d killed black lions before. He could kill this one, too.
“Use the fire.”
No. He had to get inside.
“That’s a good boy.”
Wait. The voice wanted him inside? His hands became as cold as a stone covered with dew in the moonlight. Cold as ice on a lake. Cold. So cold.
The black lion hissed.
Belladonna pushed Ryan’s shoulder, and he fell onto his back. The arrow broke beneath him, pushed in harder. He screamed as pain ripped through him. He couldn’t get up.
“Stupid boy.” Belladonna’s eyes traced his face. Her dark lips pressed together and her eyes glared. “You have no idea what angering me will do to you.”
“I have a pretty good idea.”
“I think not.” Her hand neared his face, and he expected another harsh smack, then hopefully some healing. She cocked her head and looked into his eyes as if he were nothing more than some beloved pet she was about to punish. That made his insides freeze.
Her fingers touched his ear. A stroke, so strange, like his mother might do to comfort him. Then pain flooded him. Leaked deep into his skin. The arrows from the day he’d saved Jayden seemed to strike him anew. One in his chest, the other in his thigh. He felt every part of them. Felt the venom they’d carried. His blood burned. Boiled. And he screamed so hard his throat turned raw.
While the pain pulsed into him over and over, strong and steady with each heartbeat, Belladonna wrenched the new arrow free, and black spots danced in his vision.
