by A. D. Winter
Greta screamed as her hand flew through the air, a disgusting sight of gory flesh that filled the air with spilling blood. It landed at my feet, its long pale fingers bending as they raced toward me.
I kicked it away.
Greta flashed her teeth as a red glow filled her eyes, and I felt the very air curling away from her in fear.
She was drawing upon her power, bleeding her brood of its energy to grow stronger. Her size increased, and before long, she was as tall as a troll.
Barton raced back in, assailing her with a storm of blows. But it was too late. She caught his blade with her good hand, sank the stump of her arm into his stomach, and threw him over her shoulder, where he landed a few feet away from me.
I hurried to his side.
“Ivy,” he whispered.
“It’s all right,” I told him. “Don’t speak.”
“I have to …” he said. “We don’t have much time.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The Thorns,” he said. “I knew they were back for some time now and was close to presenting the evidence to the council.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
“Because I wanted to keep you safe.”
Barton. I could’ve punched him in the nose if he wasn’t dying. Instead, I gripped his hand and brushed back the hair from his face.
He drew a knife from his belt and placed it into my hands.
“No,” I said, pulling my hand away. “I can’t.”
“You have to.” He ripped open his jacket, and I saw the multitude of spirits he’d collected over his career. If he died at Greta’s hand, they would be hers, making her completely unstoppable.
I couldn’t let that happen.
I held the dagger in my hand, a lump forming in my throat.
“You have to do this,” he told me.
“I can’t,” I said, beginning to cry.
“Look at me,” he ordered, willing me to lift my gaze. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known—stronger than me.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are,” he said.
“I’m a complete mess-up, an irresponsible loser who can’t get her life together.”
“And you’re also the Pale Fury,” he said proudly, “the wrath of the quarter, and the orphan who fought to save her life. You’re a fighter, Ivy. You always have been. Which is why I must ask you for one last thing.”
“What’s that?” I asked, wiping my eyes.
“To forgive me.”
“Forgive you?”
He caressed my cheek, and I saw the gentle stare of a loving person. “For being stern when I should’ve been supportive, for shoving you away when I should’ve listened, and for being a guardian when I should’ve been … a father.”
At that moment, something flowered within me, an unfamiliar feeling that made me feel both whole and afraid. Was this love? Was this what being wanted felt like? How long I’d wanted him to say that word. How long I’d wanted him to wrap an arm around my shoulders and tell me that he cared.
But now he was dying. And I’d never get to share those moments with him.
Damn him for his stubbornness, and damn the goddess for taking him away from me.
“I always cared for you,” he said. “I just wanted you to fit in.”
I burst out laughing, despite my tears. “I’ll never be able to fit in.”
“I know that now,” he said. “I guess that’s why I loved you so much.” He drew a velvet bag from his jacket and handed it to me. “For you.”
“What is it?”
“Something I never should’ve taken from you.”
And with that, his eyes began to dim. I hefted him into my arms and gave him a shake, desperate to keep him with me.
“We don’t have much time,” he said.
“I can’t do it,” I said.
“Then I’ll help.”
His hand curled around mine, and I felt the strength of determination guiding my blade. But there was something else. His hand … it was trembling. Not from weakness but from something else. Fear. He was afraid, afraid of dying.
No, I told myself. You can’t make him do this. You have to be strong—for him.
I steered his hand away, holding him in an embrace, and kissed his cheek. “You’re the greatest man I’ve ever known, and the best father a girl could have. Now go in peace. I’ll be with you soon.”
I dug the blade into his chest, holding him as tightly as I could. His body shook, but after a while, his breathing stopped and his body wilted.
He was gone.
Behind me came the sound of a cackle.
Greta.
She was looming in the distance, delirious with her powers. Her mascara was trickling down her cheeks, and her hair was dripping with sweat. She was twice the size she’d been before, appearing like some distorted tree.
I rose to my feet, suddenly fueled by rage. My grip tightened around the bag that Barton had given me, and I felt the two shafts of steel that had been as much a part of me as my own hands.
I pulled the nunchucks from the bag, holding them out before me, and waited for my spoils.
They came to me like a wind, leaping from Barton’s body and slamming into my back. The power was immense, and I felt a horde of spirits crawling along my skin.
They were mine now.
Thunder roared overhead, as if the sky itself were trembling from my rage, and a wicked hand of lightning streaked across the sky, bringing with it a fall of rain.
“You see?” Greta said, gesturing to the crying sky. “The Minstrel offers us its blessing.”
“No,” I said. “It’s peeing itself in fear, because it knows that I’m about to bash your head in.”
I glared at her over the steel chain of my nunchucks and called upon the power of my spirits. The dragons engraved along the shafts flared to life, and I felt the power of oneness surging through me.
Greta’s eyes narrowed. “That’s interesting.”
We circled each other as the rain fell upon us, she with her one good hand, me spinning my chucks in a circle.
There was no way I would back down. Not here. Not now. Even if the world crumbled and all that was left was the ether, I would refuse to fall.
Swing after swing, I shot tongues of flame at her. The fiery balls lashed at her skin like bursts of acid, drawing screams of anguish from her monstrous form.
Frustrated, she finally charged at me. But I spread out my nunchucks at the last moment, catching her by the wrist and hitting her with the end of the right shaft.
She fell back, stunned by the impact, and blood seeped from her mouth.
This was the moment, and I couldn’t let it go.
I swung my chucks at her face, at her arms, at her legs, breaking her limbs and leaving her on the ground, helpless.
Unable to defend herself, she raised her hand, halting me at the last moment.
“Wait!” she yelled. “I can help you.”
“With what?” I asked. “Everything I had you took from me.”
“But I can give it back,” she said. “It’s true.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your life,” she said. “I know who stole you, the fae who ruined your life. They can tell you who your parents are.”
“My parents?” I wavered as I was struck by some desperate need that held me in place.
“Yes,” she said. “Think about it. The one thing you’ve always wanted—a family you could love and who would love you in return. No longer an … orphan.”
I glared at her twisted face, hoping to find some blemish of deceit. But there was none.
“All you have to do is take my hand.” She reached out for me. “And together we can right the wrongs that have been done to us.”
I glanced back at Dryden.
He was still battling the warlock, using every ounce of his power to stay alive. I then looked at Crag. He was fighting to reach Sophie, who w
as already sinking beneath the water.
They were all fighting to survive.
And here I was on the brink of saving them all.
All I had to do was kill Greta, and the spell would be lifted.
But as I glared down at my broken ex-headmistress, her body shaking in fear, I was stalled by something I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Hope.
She was right. I had always wanted a family, a mother, a father, a sibling. It was what I dreamed about every night.
Yet it had always seemed so impossible that eventually I had to let it go, choosing to live an existence of accepted fate rather than a life of empty longing.
Now it was here again.
And—as painful as it was—I made my choice.
“Rise,” I said to Greta, holding out my hand for her to take.
She glared at it in suspicion, unsure of what I was doing. After a moment, she relented.
“You’re doing the right thing,” she assured as she took my hand. “Together we can make those who wronged us pay for their cruelty.”
“Agreed,” I said. “But first there’s something you must do for me.”
“And what’s that?” she asked.
“Hold out your hand.”
She glared at me in silence, her awareness clutching her breath. She knew what I wanted, and moreover, she knew that there was no way out of it. Her past had finally caught up to her, and any dreams of revenge she’d had were about to be destroyed at the end of my weapon.
She held out her hand like a frightened child, and despite my sympathy for her, I took the moment to relish her fear.
“Greta, Greta, Greta,” I said in disappointment, “you’ve been a very naughty girl.”
And with that, I swung my weapon.
The shaft tore into her wrist, and her hand fell to the ground, bleeding and shivering like a dying reptile.
I’d heard screams before—terrible howls that would awaken entire neighborhoods from their sleep. But none of them could compare to what I heard in that moment.
Greta’s pain seemed to rise from a hollow place, a hidden cavern where a flood of pain and fear had been stored away, now released against her will.
It was a horrible sound, and I quickly had to swing my weapon again to keep from hearing any more of it.
I watched as her head flew into the air, tumbling end over end, until it finally splashed into the fountain below. All at once, her body erupted into flames.
The embers of her essence lifted into the air, and I felt a moment of relief as they disappeared into the darkness.
The children below were already awakening from their possessions. And Dryden had already finished with the warlock, his black-robed body impaled on a metal beam that had been cracked.
I took the moment to finally breathe. I was exhausted beyond belief, and there was nothing I wanted more than to sit down on something soft. A jug of water and a sandwich from the human world wouldn’t hurt either. But just as I was about to turn away, I saw something lifting from Greta’s shadow.
It scampered into my chest, knocking me to my knees, and I felt a terrible power burrowing inside of me.
Clutching my chest, I tried to breathe, but it was overwhelming.
Then, all at once, the pain exploded from my body, and I was left with my head hanging between my shoulders, trembling.
I glanced at my arm, feeling a subtle burn along the inside, and saw that my serpent was now entangled with what looked to be a giant spider.
Greta’s spirit.
It had become a part of me, now forced to serve and protect my aura just as it had done for Greta. Hopefully, it wouldn’t corrupt me as it had corrupted her.
I rose to my feet, still shaking. As powerful as Barton’s spirits had been, they were no comparison to the mark that Greta had left on me. I was stronger and deadlier beyond belief.
Behind me, I felt a presence.
Dryden was striding through the wafting smoke of the damaged roof. His hair was damp with sweat, and his skin was glowing red, clearly the spoils from his victory over the warlock.
“You’ve grown stronger,” he said, marveling at the magical signature pulsing around me.
I glanced down at the shadow where Greta’s body had been. “She’s a part of me now.”
“Those who hurt us never truly leave us,” he said. “But we can use them to grow stronger.”
“I hope you’re right,” I said.
He looked back at Barton. “The inquisitor. Did you know him?”
I nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I said. “He was the best man I ever knew. If I could live a life like his, I’d be a happy woman.”
“Then perhaps you should.”
A cold wind blew in from the east, knocking my hair into my face. But he brushed it away and steered my gaze to his. Wrapping his jacket around my shoulders, he pulled me in close, and the scent of his skin filled my senses with a breath of calmness.
It was nice, I thought, leaning into his embrace. Feeling protected was something that I hadn’t experienced in a long time, and I was sure that it wouldn’t last very long.
I stared down into the crowd, feeling my heart lift as I saw Crag lumbering through the fountain toward Sophie. He tossed his hammer aside and dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around the little girl.
Thank the goddess.
“They’re safe,” Dryden whispered, sounding just as relieved. “As are we.”
It was then, just as I was starting to believe him, that I felt the sudden arrival of unwanted guests.
I turned around and saw a group of warriors waiting at the other side of the bridge. At their front was an idiot.
“Ivy Cross,” Luis called out. “You’re under arrest.”
38
Ivy
The city square had been closed off by an army of forensic mages. They cast protective spells, setting a perimeter of green fire that stretched for several blocks.
The city of Salvation had been hit—and hit hard.
I smelled the calming scent of warm sand and dried wood as shamans from Zuwada moved through the ranks of injured citizens. They healed the wounded with natural powers and finished with words of encouragement.
Most of my injuries had already healed, but my nose was still jacked up, and my cheek hurt like crazy. I sat back against a bench, cringing as one of the shamans, a middle-aged woman with her daughter, worked to heal the damage.
“How bad is it?” I asked.
The shaman hid her concern beneath a smile. “I’ve seen worse.” Her daughter watched closely, eyes sharp with intelligence. “Here, hold still.”
I braced myself, expecting the worst as the woman framed my nose with her thumbs. With a quick jerk, she snapped it into place, and my eyes quickly filled with tears.
“There,” she said, stepping back to admire her work. “As good as new.”
I glanced at the mirror in the carriage, rushing to see if I still had a nose, then sighed in relief as I saw that it’d been straightened back to normal. “Thanks,” I said, rubbing the wound.
“Of course.” She motioned for her daughter to follow. “Come, Gemdaie, we must see to the others.”
The little girl inclined her head at me, then hurried after her mother.
“How’s the damage?”
I looked up to find High Inquisitor Nelson standing before me. At his side, majestic in his sunset robe and wooden tiara, was the Voice of the Council. I straightened, suddenly awestruck.
“Lord Valera,” I said with a bow.
The fae urged me to relax, resting a slim hand on my shoulder. As slim as his hand may have been, the power of it was immense, and I felt as if a planet were sitting on my shoulder.
“You’ve done Salvation proud, my child.” I’d never heard Valera’s voice before, and I was struck by how eloquent it was. “You should be proud of yourself.”
I swallowed. “Thank you, my lord. I did the best I c
ould.”
“And it was more than enough.” He lifted his hand. “I fear if not for you, the Listeners would’ve been victorious, and many lives would’ve been lost.”
“Well,” I said with a shrug. “I guess you could say I got lucky.”
“Indeed.” He granted me a smile, but it was strange and empty. “Tell me,” he added, “the moments you spent with the Monarch …” He leaned into me. “Did she say anything … strange?”
I thought for a moment, remembering Greta’s words: You were never chosen by a goddess but stolen by a fairy.
Had she been telling me the truth? Had I been stolen as a child and replaced with something called a changeling? I guessed I would never know. Still, I didn’t want to bring it up. Doing so could put me in jeopardy.
“No,” I said.
“Are you sure?” he asked, angling his head at me in suspicion.
“As honest as a fae,” I replied.
He held my gaze, my jest not lost upon him. “Very well,” he said. “Enjoy this moment. You’ve earned it. Just remember, your accomplishments have drawn the attention of the Council.” He threw back his shawl across his neck. “We’ll be watching you.”
I bowed my head, granting him the respect he required. But deep down I was feeling uneasy. My faith in the Council was shaken, and I still didn’t know who I could trust.
As he left, I saw a body bag being carried out of the building, and I felt a pang of sadness in my chest.
Barton.
My eyes glossed over with tears, and I felt the overwhelming urge to rush to his side. But he was gone now, spirited away to the other world. And nothing I could do would bring him back. I sniffed away my tears and cleared my throat with a growl.
“It’s an unfortunate loss,” Nelson said in a stern voice. “His absence will be greatly felt.”
“You know, he was a person,” I reminded him.
Nelson frowned as if unsure of what I’d meant. “Of course.”
I snorted. What did Nelson know about the man, anyway? He’d been nothing but an underling to him, a man who wrote reports and did what he was told to do.
But Barton had been so much more.
He’d been my family, and probably the only person who’d ever cared about me in this whole stinking city. Now that he was gone, I was alone again, forced to fend for myself in this overgrown orphanage.
