by Sarina Dorie
I should never have told my mom about the wedding. I should have eloped as Thatch had asked. She would never have gone to the Unseen Realm and been put in danger. She was here because of me.
Uncertainty flashed across Abigail Lawrence’s face. “Why have you come here?” She examined the runes floating around Odette, though I couldn’t tell if she knew enough magic to decipher their meaning.
Odette inclined her head. “To advise you against making a mistake.”
“The mistake of refusing your queen? I’m not going to promise to do anything that would harm my daughter.” There was a fierceness in her voice that matched her feral appearance.
Odette’s lips curved upward into a smile that didn’t meet her eyes. “I wonder what life would be like if my siblings and I had such a mother who cared more about her own children than herself.”
Confusion crossed Abigail Lawrence’s expression. I knew about Thatch’s own mother and how cruel she had been to her children.
“Perhaps you think I’m heartless. That much is true in the literal sense.” Odette hooked a fingernail under her low-cut collar and shifted the fabric back to reveal the line etched into her flesh where her heart had been removed. “A Fae who has extracted the heart of a Witchkin can use that organ for great magic—or simply dine on it for pleasure.” From the way she snorted, she may have thought that was a waste. I couldn’t tell from her reaction what the Raven Queen may have done with her heart.
She released the collar, the fabric shifting like shadows more than woven material. “My lack of heart renders me a slave to the magic that replaces this organ. Forever I will be under Queen Morgaine Le Fay’s control. I will be her slave in body. Do you understand?”
Abigail Lawrence stared into her eyes. “But not in soul?”
“No. My soul is intact, more or less. My life would be easier if it were gone, but I suppose that is why Her Majesty will not grant me the freedom from its burden. She can’t have me too … happy.” She laughed at that word, as though it were a joke.
When Felix Thatch had traded half his soul for his sisters’ freedom, he had wanted the Raven Queen to take it all because it had hurt too much to keep only half of it, but she hadn’t. It would have made him cruel and heartless. He wouldn’t have cared about anyone, and he wouldn’t have been as fun to torment if he hadn’t had a conscience.
Felix Thatch said it was better to give up part of a soul than a heart because it grew back. He didn’t trust Odette. He considered her dead to him. I wasn’t certain whether she was all bad and pretending to be good, or a little good was left in her, and she was pretending to be all bad—not so different from the way Thatch allowed the world to see him.
“Are you suggesting I give up my heart?” my mom asked. “Or my soul?”
“Neither. Giving up your heart would put you in her service. Giving up your soul would remove your conscience and make you more susceptible to the queen’s bidding. If you truly wish no harm to befall your daughter, I suggest you refrain from offering her either.” Odette strolled across the small cell, smoothing her hand over the thorny stem of a rose. Crimson stained the green flesh.
Odette’s magic was blood magic. I tasted ozone and roses in the air around her, the perfume intensifying. Red light pulsed under her skin. I held my breath, uncertain what she would do.
“Are you going to free me?” my mom asked.
“I cannot free you, nor can I defy my queen,” Odette said. “The Raven Queen offers you an eternity of physical torture until she breaks you. If she succeeds, and convinces you to betray those you love, you will then endure the torture of your conscience. What I can offer you is another choice.”
This sounded like the kind of opportunity Abigail Lawrence had always trained me to look for. She had taught me to make my own path when I didn’t like the choices before me.
Odette crouched closer. “In a few hours, Her Majesty will remove you from your cell. She might tie you up and, within a few days, devour your hands and feet. Or she may taunt you in other ways. I cannot kill you, even to put you out of your misery.” Odette held out her hand. Her palm was bloody from where she’d raked it across the thorns. Nestled in the folds of her palm was an acorn smeared scarlet. “You are an Amni Plandai. Oak is your affinity?”
Abigail Lawrence stretched out a hand through the mesh of blackberry vines and carefully removed the acorn from Odette’s palm. It hummed under her touch. The seed drew strength from my mom’s affinity, and she grew stronger being so near this small vessel of hope. The blood magic was reacting to plant magic, but I couldn’t tell what it was doing.
“Swallow this acorn, and it will make you strong. It will grow inside you,” Odette said.
“Raw acorns are toxic.”
“I should think the tannins will be the least of your worries. The acorn will be your only means of escape. It will . . . change you. I cannot promise it to be painless or ideal. But it will end your suffering at the Raven Queen’s hands.”
My fairy godmother stared at the nut in her hand. “Have you read Ovid’s Metamorphoses? Am I to end my days as Baucis and Philemon?”
I knew Ovid was a Roman poet, but I didn’t know this myth.
Odette drew away. “I simply leave you with a choice.”
Abigail Lawrence dug her fingernails under the shell of the acorn, prying it away. Odette turned from my fairy godmother. She strode through the door and through me, sending a cold jolt into me.
I woke, sweaty and panting. It had been a dream, but more than a dream. I had been remote viewing in my sleep. The Raven Queen was going to do something to my fairy godmother. I didn’t know what that magic seed would do to her. Kill her? Transform her?
I shook Thatch’s shoulder. “Who are Baucis and Philemon? What happened to them?”
Thatch rolled over and turned away. “Zeus granted them a gift for their generosity.”
I shook him again. “What else?”
“I have one of Ovid’s books on my shelf,” he mumbled.
“What else happened to them?”
He sighed. “They guarded the temple and were permitted to die together and transform. One turned into a linden. The other into—”
“An oak.” Shivers stole down my spine.
My fairy godmother wouldn’t lose her heart or soul. She would be transformed into something else unfeeling and senseless to the world. That might save her from being tortured in her human form, but it wouldn’t prevent her death.
“We need to go tonight to the Raven Queen’s castle,” I said.
We needed to rescue my mom before she rescued herself.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
From Mighty Oaks Little Acorns Grow
It didn’t take long to fill Thatch in on the direness of the situation. He lit a candle, listening as I told him about my dream. He didn’t interrupt or react, even when I told him about his sister and what she’d done for my mom.
He rubbed at his face. “Are you certain this wasn’t a nightmare rather than remote viewing?”
“I can tell the difference. It wasn’t my imagination,” I said. “Don’t try to talk me out of this. I’m going tonight, with or without you. I’ll break through your wards and oaths if you try to make me stay. Or die trying.”
He folded his hands in front of himself, staring off into the distance for a long moment. “I didn’t say I was going to try to talk you out of this. I simply wanted to ensure you were certain.” He pushed himself out of bed. “I advise you to dress. You will need practical clothes.” He frowned. “It is a pity the one evening we didn’t charge your magic to ensure you were at your strongest was tonight.”
The irony didn’t escape me.
I busied myself throwing on clothes.
The note I left for Josie to find on Thatch’s desk was simple.
I went to rescue my mom. If I’m not at work tomorrow, I’m probably dead.
I considered leaving a note for Vega. It would have be
en wise to give her instructions for Maddy. If something happened to me, I wanted to make sure Maddy didn’t suffer from the Court of the Pacific. But I had already told Vega the reason Maddy needed to be turned into a Red affinity. There wasn’t anything more to say than goodbye, and I didn’t want to delay my departure for that. I was afraid of even delaying to go on a detour in the Morty Realm to collect electricity.
We needed to get to my mom immediately.
Thatch packed his pockets full of competency lozenges and supplies.
“What’s the plan?” I asked. “How are we going to get in?”
“You haven’t advanced enough to walk into your drawings as a portal. We will have to sneak in through a back way.”
“There’s a back way?”
“If it hasn’t been discovered.” He swallowed. “It’s how I helped my sisters escape. How I escaped.”
His brow crinkled up. I could already see how difficult this was going to be for him to have to return to a place he’d thought he’d never have to go back to.
“If we are fortunate, we won’t be caught,” he said. “If we are caught, we may be able to use the doppelgänger spell we’ve been working on to escape.”
He held up one of the lozenges. “Have you any pockets? Keep this somewhere safe for an emergency.”
“This is an emergency.” My mom needed me.
“No. The Raven Queen threatening to kill you is an emergency. Only take the lozenge an hour after we arrive.”
I touched a hand to the amulet Elric had given me. That was for an emergency. I would lose my soul if I used it. Competency wasn’t an emergency. It was for increased skill and learning. Even so, I didn’t argue.
I tucked the pill into my jeans pocket, and the wand Thatch had given me for Christmas into another. Jeans, a lacy dress, and a fleece jacket weren’t my usual witchy attire, but I was dressing for practicality.
Naturally I wore striped socks, hot pink and black, so I could embrace my inner witch.
By the time Thatch brought me to the closet in his office, it was just past one o’clock in the morning. My stomach felt jittery. I prayed I wasn’t leading Thatch to his death.
If Baba Nata’s vision came true, I would die before my twenty-fifth birthday. I only had a few weeks to go. If it was going to happen, most likely it would be tonight. I only hoped I wasn’t going to drag anyone else down with me.
Thatch waved his hand before the back wall of the closet. It momentarily rippled like water. He took my hand.
“I love you,” I said.
He kissed me. “I love you.”
Together we stepped through the portal.
It was dark all around. My body felt momentarily weightless before gravity caught up with me. Wind rushed at me, and my stomach flip-flopped.
I was falling.
“Oh no,” Thatch said in his dry monotone.
That was soooo not what I wanted to hear.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Alice Down the Rabbit Hole
As I fell, my clammy hand slipped from Thatch’s. I screamed, my voice lost in the wail of wind. Wildly, my arms pinwheeled, searching for him, grasping for anything to cling to. I somersaulted, momentarily kicking something—probably Thatch.
I sucked in a mouthful of air, only to choke on the fetid stench of it. My fall came to an abrupt halt, the ground underneath me cushioning me like a pillow. I patted the ground to see what I had landed on, but nothing was there.
Thatch’s voice came from somewhere to my left. “Are you all right?”
I turned to see him, but it was dark all around me. “Yes. What happened? Where are we?”
“It appears the tunnel I used previously has been compromised.”
My equilibrium felt off. I wobbled uncertainly as I stood, reaching out and finding a solid surface. It felt like rock. I pressed myself flat against the wall. Gravity tugged at me like it wanted me to continue descending.
I started to slide downward. My heart lurched.
A rock jutted into my belly. I dug my fingers into the grooves and scrabbled for purchase against the wall. Something wet sloshed below. The sound was thick, like lumps of cold gravy being whisked in a pan. With the movement came a wave of putrid rot, like a thousand outhouses being emptied at once. I held my breath, fighting the urge to vomit.
Something took hold of my coat and shoved me to the right. I kicked my foot into a stone and realized it stuck out enough that I could stand on it. I clung to the stones and maneuvered myself onto the ledge.
A light sparked beside me. The illumination grew. Thatch stood on a ledge jutting out of the rocks a few feet higher than mine. The tip of his wand glowed pale violet. White light flooded out, illuminating the walls of the pit. It looked like the walls were made from jagged gray bricks, descending down toward the thick mud of a well. The surface below oozed and bubbled.
Thatch followed my gaze. “Son of a succubus,” he swore.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“In the Raven Court’s septic tank. But not for long.”
He lifted his other hand, and his body disappeared into spirals of black mist. The light from his wand swirled amid the darkness, evaporating along with him. The light faded, and I was left in blackness again.
He was gone.
He’d left me.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Hanging Out
I clung to the stones in the darkness, trying not to choke as something below belched out toxic gases.
I didn’t want to believe the man I loved would just leave me in the bowels of the Raven Court’s castle. Not without a good reason. Yet he was gone. I was alone.
The betrayal threatened to overwhelm me.
Maybe this was one of Thatch’s tests—a teachable moment he expected me to solve my way out of. I held on to the rocks and shoved one hand into a pocket to reach for my competency pill, but as I did so, that shift in movement made it feel as though I was going to lose my balance on the brick that was jutting out of the wall. I steadied myself and fought to push down the panic.
The flickers of shadow and light spiraled and condensed into his form once again. He stood where he’d been previously, only visibly winded. I didn’t know how he could stand gulping in the air.
“What were you doing? Why did you leave me here?” My voice rose.
He touched a finger to his lips and spoke in a shushed tone. “I wished to see if I could use a transportation spell to remove us from the pit. It proved … ineffective. I will be forced to use other means.”
He tugged back a sleeve and stabbed his wand against his forearm. He made the act of balancing on two inches of slate look easy. His skin was red and inflamed as he drew the wand away. The tip of the wood grew bulbous and bright. He tapped the wall with the wand. Bricks shoved themselves outward to the right of his feet, forming steps as he descended. Confidently, he strode toward me without even looking. I stared with trepidation at the stone growing into place just in time to wedge itself under his feet. It was barely wide enough to hold him.
When he reached my landing, he hooked an arm around my waist and swung me onto the step where he stood. The air was cool, but his face was red and sweaty. He leaned against the wall away from me, already looking spent.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“Remind me not to follow you into the dead of night when I haven’t built up my magic.” He shoved back his sleeve again and stabbed his arm with his wand. His breath came out in sharp little pants.
From what I could see in the light of Thatch’s wand, the thick ooze below bubbled and shifted again.
I glanced down. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
There were so many distractions: the putrid stench, the tremor in my own muscles, the fear dulling my senses, the slurpy sucking sound below, yet my senses sharpened the moment my consciousness slipped outside my own body. I became aware of the pain throbbing in Thatch’s nerves. Fire pulsed up his ar
m and into his core. The raw lance of pain transformed into cool energy, filling his depleted stores of magic. He ground the wand harder against his skin. A deeper spectrum of pain flared underneath the stick. His breath caught in his throat, the mixture of pleasure and pain confusing his senses.
The pain flared red and orange and yellow. Magic burned, the flames turning white hot. This wasn’t the only magic in the well I sensed. Something stronger waited just below the burbling surface of sewage.
My consciousness expanded past the sludge thirty feet below us. Matter shifted and condensed. Long coils knotted and slithered. I couldn’t tell what it was, tentacles or serpent bodies. It drew in strength from the waste around it, readying itself to launch upward.
I snapped back into my own body.
“Felix,” I said. “We need to get out of here.”
He gouged the wand into his arm, drawing a crimson line into his skin. “Not yet. I need a minute longer.” He wobbled precariously on his step, his body pitching away from the wall.
I grabbed his jacket and yanked him back toward the stone. “No, really. Right now. It’s coming.”
Water roiled below us. A massive serpentlike form burst from the water. The beast looked like it was made of a couple hundred years’ worth of fecal matter. Maybe it was a poop golem. Its head cracked open, and a hiss of putrid air rolled out of a horizontal slit.
I covered my face with a sleeve to block out the smell.
“Bollocks,” Thatch said.
He waved the light of his wand to the right and the head followed the luminescence. Thatch pushed the light to the left, farther away from me, and the monstrosity edged in that direction. The light left his wand as a will-o’-the-wisp and traveled along the circumference of the wall. The serpent followed the light.
Thatch grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me toward the steps he’d made. “Go,” he whispered.
I couldn’t see the steps well in the absence of light from his wand. I stumbled, clinging to bricks jutting out of the wall and using them as handholds. Rocks crunched behind me. Thatch’s hand cupped my elbow.
