by Angel Lawson
“You can sense them?” Clinton asks.
“The dead and dying? Yes. Normally mortals are not my concern but the Darkness and Morrigan are. I can guide you.”
Dylan reluctantly agrees but corners both of us before we leave. “No one dies, do you understand? Not Bunny or the mortal, Anita.”
“Why should we spare them?” I ask, the betrayal burns deep, more than I ever expected.
“We never abandon one of our own. That is the lesson the Morrigan’s paranoia taught us. Bunny may be out of control but he’s still one of the gods chosen.”
“And Anita?”
“There’s a chance we can perform the splitting spell on her and save her too.”
I hold Dylan’s eye and nod, but as I straighten my jacket over my sword I can’t shake the tug of vengeance clawing at my soul. Even though I’ve showered and changed I can still feel the sticky heat of Bunny’s cum on my chest. He used me. He betrayed me and now I must deliver justice.
Chapter Twenty-One
Morgan
In the garage, Hildi gives us two places to start. Dylan splits us into groups: me, him, and Hildi together. Sam, Clinton, and Damien pile into Clinton’s truck and leave the garage first.
“Which one of these fine vehicles should we take?”
Dylan fidgets with his belt.
“He doesn’t drive.”
Her eyebrow rises curiously. “No?”
“No,” he replies.
“Interesting.” She strolls down the row of cars and stops before a shiny, silver-gray Mercedes. “I like this one. Keys?”
Dylan seems totally unsure what to do about a woman like Hildi. I pass him on the way to the key box. “She makes me seem like a piece of cake, don’t you think?”
He grunts and follows us to the car. I concede and give him the passenger seat, due to his long legs. Hildi ducks in the driver’s side and I grab him by the shirt. “It’s a good idea.”
He leans forward and kisses me, darting his tongue in my mouth. Hildi slams on the horn and the sound echoes through the garage, blasting our ears. “You owe me, got it?”
I nod, thinking about all the ways I’ll repay him, before slipping in my seat.
*
“Stop,” Dylan says and Hildi slams on the brakes. We fly forward, my hands holding on to the seat in front of me.
“Holy shit, Hildi. Give us a little notice.”
Hildi’s driving skills were questionable. The scowl hadn’t left Dylan’s face the whole ride. To be honest, I’d checked my seat belt at least three times as she careened through the busy streets of New York.
We were following the scent of infection and decay—that’s what she told us, at least. I trusted her senses but I’m surprised when Dylan tells her to stop the car.
“Over there.” He’s already out of his seat. I’m not sure what he’s looking for but he hops out of the vehicle and dodges a series of cars to get to the other side of the busy road.
“Park the car,” I tell her, following Dylan. I find him walking back and forth at a train station. “What are you doing?”
“I saw this in one of the paintings. There’s a gate around here.” He touches the signs, the bench, the curve of the guardrail.
“I could see the gate in the park that day. The air around it wasn’t right. I don’t see anything like that here.”
Hildi races up, breathing heavily. She takes a deep breath. “Someone with the infection has been here.”
“Anita?”
She shrugs. “Maybe.”
Dylan continues his search but Hildi sniffs the air. She scans the people walking around us. Our whole group gets a few looks. Hildi looks like some kind of Nordic model and Dylan has a face that is almost too beautiful to be real. I try my best to seem normal, average, but my partners and their erratic behavior isn’t making it easy.
“I smell something,” Hildi says, taking off in the direction of a small wooded park.
“Come on,” I tell Dylan. “We can come back.”
Again we cross the busy roads, Hildi unconcerned about traffic or cars. Dylan grabs my hand and leads me to the safety of the park. I feel a gust of familiar cool air roll in our direction.
“Do you feel that?”
“No, but I smell it,” Hildi says. “God, it’s awful.” She retches, covering her mouth with her hand. Deep lines crease Dylan’s forehead.
“There’s a gate around here—you were right,” I tell him, walking toward the grove of trees. A spot a wave of air and a discoloration. Hildi walks off, face scrunched.
I walk toward the gate and the familiar cold air burns my cheeks. I feel the draw, the lure, just like last time. Whatever exists on the Otherside beckons me, and I’m inches away when I’m jerked back.
“What?” I shout, coming toe to toe with Dylan.
“Last time they barely got you out of there. I can’t let you get too close.”
There’s a crackle in the air and the coolness vanishes. I look over my shoulder and all signs of the gate have disappeared.
“It’s gone,” I say, pulling out of his arms. I search for Hildi. She’s staring through the trees. “The gate closed, is the smell gone too?”
“No.” Her eyes are locked on something across the park. I move next to her and grip her elbow when I get a better view. “It reeks.”
The woman’s blonde, wavy hair catches my eye. She’s headed straight for us, or more likely, the closed portal. “That’s her. That’s who we’re looking for.”
I don’t know what to expect but it’s not for Hildi to charge toward her.
“Morgan, step back,” Dylan says, balling his fists and stepping between me and the women.
I push him aside. “This is my wrong to right.”
“I can’t let you go over there. It’s my duty to protect you.” His hand wraps around my arm, squeezing tight. I jerk back and reach for my sword with my free hand. It glints in the sunlight.
“No, Dylan. It’s your duty to serve and I started this with Anita. I let her get too close.” Voices rise from in the trees. “Stay here. Watch the gate. Bunny may try to get through.”
There’s a look of cold rage on his face as he accepts my command. There’s no way I’m letting him do this for me. I’ve trained. I’ve fought. I’ve studied for this moment. Anita may have a sliver of the Darkness in her, but I will banish her and the vessel she resides in to hell.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sam
Click, click, click.
My camera snaps photos of the area. The pictures have a greenish-gray tint to them, but nothing unusual. Certainly nothing that looks like a gate from this world to the next.
“Come on, Bun, show yourself,” I mutter. Damien is in the magic shop talking with Tran, hoping he’s seen or heard something. Clinton walks up and down the street, scaring the locals with the scowl on his face.
Click, click, click
I sit on a cement wall outside the bodega and flip back through the photos. Bunny’s paintings implied there would be a portal here, but I’m coming up empty. Damien exits the magic shop, his frown telling me what I need to know. He walks over and says, “He came in for some of the ingredients needed to make the portals. But he must have gotten the reactive stuff from the Otherside. Tran says if Bunny is using the area as a hotspot, he hasn’t seen or felt it.”
“Would he? I know the guy is like an elder of magic or whatever but the Morrigan? That’s ancient level.”
“Got anything?” he asks me.
“Not much.”
Damien grimaces and scans the street. I point my camera in Clinton’s direction.
Click, click, click
“So look, I think this may be a dead end,” Damien says, scratching his chin. I look back down at the display screen. “There doesn’t seem—”
“Fuck.”
“What?”
“Fuck. Fuck. Shit.”
“What the hell, Sam?” he grabs the camera and looks at the screen. His eyes dart up
at Clinton. “Is that real?”
I glance at the photo I’d just taken. It’s Clinton, but he’s not in this world. At least, I don’t think so. His hands are chained. He’s shirtless with deep wounds across his back and chest. Dirt smears across his face and his knuckles are raw and bloody. I flip to the next photo, Clinton isn’t in it but I do see something that wasn’t there before. Black smoke rolls low on the street, like a tentacle.
“That’s like the smoke in the ring the other night,” Damien says. “When Dylan fought the Morrigan.”
“We need to get out of here.” I look up at Clinton, who makes eye contact with me. I jerk my head for him to walk over. “Now.”
A blast of cool air rushes down the narrow street. It’s then that I notice we’re the only ones still out here. The sidewalk is empty. The stores quiet. I glance over at Damien but he’s gone. “Dude,” I say, “Damien?”
Another blast of cold rolls over me, this time like a freight train. I spin, feeling a presence at my back. There’s nothing and no one there. I look back up for Clinton. Gone.
“Clint! Damien!”
With fumbling hands, I turn the camera around, the lens pointing at my face.
Click, click, click
The camera is still shooting when thick arms twist and coil around my legs. The last thing I hear, as I’m swept off my feet, is the crack of my camera as it hits the ground.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Morgan
The glint of my sword announces me when I approach Anita and Hildi. We’re deep enough in the grove of trees that people on the street can’t see us. They haven’t come to blows but Hildi has her in a tight grip. I notice an odd coloring on the Valkyrie’s face and wonder if it’s a reaction to the sickness.
Anita isn’t a fighter and there’s a contrast between the warrior stance of Hildi and the white, crisp jeans on the woman before me.
“You finally figured it out?” she says.
“I figured out you’re a tool,” I reply.
She laughs. “And you’re not?”
I step closer and hold my sword at her midsection. “What did you do to Bunny?”
“Xavier taught me a little something about team management, from his work down on Wall Street. Never ignore the little person. Cultivate them the most. When a weakness shows they’ll be the first to betray you.”
“No one ignored Bunny.”
“Maybe not, but with that disfigurement he’s a liability. Or at least that’s what I told him.” I lunge for her with my hand, wrapping my fingers around her throat. Her bright blue eyes light up in fascination—not fear. “You gonna kiss me again?”
I release her and haul back and slap her across the face. “Fuck you.”
She laughs again. I want to kill her. Plunge this blade into her belly and watch her bleed. I brace myself. I’m not a murderer. Dylan told me to let her live—we’ll need her. I swallow back rage.
“So what’s your grand plan? You infect the whole city? Start another plague? To what? Build up the Morrigan’s strength so she can take over?” I ask.
“Well, yeah.” Her eyes narrow. “And don’t act like you don’t want it—at least a little. I’ve read your book. Bunny even showed me your latest writings.” She smiles at my reaction to that revelation. “You’re curious about the Otherside. The power it holds. You should be.”
Hildi tightens her grip and Anita winces before licking her lips.
“I’m a historian, Anita. Those writings are based on truth, not desire.”
She tilts her head. “Since when are truth and desire mutually exclusive?”
“Come on,” I tell Hildi. “We need to get her back to The Nead. Maybe once we rid of you of the Darkness you’ll come to your senses.”
Hildi moves her along and I glance over my shoulder at Dylan standing near the edge of the woods. He looks at me and then over to Anita.
“You realize he’s the only one you have left, right? First Bunny and then the others?”
“Shut up, Anita.”
Her footsteps crush the dried leaves on the ground. “Do you think the Morrigan would only want one? You know how she feels about being betrayed, particularly by men. Her men.”
The threat rings true but I refuse to show it. “What are you talking about?”
“He was here. I felt him open the gate. You did, too.” Her lips curve. “Where do you think he went when he realized you were here without the rest of the guardians? Three of her traitors?”
Dread fills my chest. She knows I need Bunny to complete my power. What happens if the others are gone too? “Dylan,” I call. “Go back to the house.”
“I’m not leaving,” he calls back, stepping into the wooded area.
“Don’t listen to her, Guardian,” Anita chimes in. “It’s too late anyway.”
“Dylan,” I turn to face him. “Go find the others and stop Bunny.”
I sense his conflict. He asks, “And what about her?”
Hildi and I share a look before I declare, “We’ll take care of The Third.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Damien
The hard stone beneath my knees is cold as the frigid air. My skin chafes against the metal cuffs, the long chain linking to another around my ankles. Clinton shivers next to me, his face purple with bruises. Blood drips from the edge of his mouth. Sam shifts, causing the chains to clink. He’s punished with the sharp crack of a whip lashing into his back.
“No moving!” the soldier shouts from the dark. I caught a glimpse of his face when they brought us in. Blond hair with a deep scar down his cheek. He carries the whip on his belt. It’s similar to the one Dylan used in the ring.
Sam grunts against the pain, swallowing what he can. My knees ache from kneeling on the hard stone and I really need to piss, but I keep my eyes forward and my body still. Getting out of here will be hard enough without further injury.
I can only guess we got sucked into one of Bunny’s portals—the Morrigan slipping out to drag us to the Otherside. That’s where we are. I’d know this place anywhere. The cold haunts my dreams. The smell is burned to the insides of my nostrils. There’s nothing here but death—and the same fate surely awaits us if we can’t escape soon.
Minutes pass—maybe longer. I’m dizzy from the wait. Footsteps echo on the stairs. By now I’m sure we’re underground and I wonder if we’ll see daylight again, breathe fresh air, or taste the flesh of our goddess once more before we die.
The rustle of fabric—or is it wings—follows the footsteps. Then the sound of metal drags across stone. The temperature drops ten degrees and I hear Clinton swallow, either blood, rage, or both, next to me.
“Well, well, well look what the cat—or rather, bunny—dragged in,” a familiar voice bounces off the stone. The Morrigan in a full pleated skirt and a corset made of leather walks into view. “Thought you’d gotten away from me? It doesn’t work that way, Guardians.”
She walks down the line, her fingers trailing over Sam’s open lash marks, touching Clinton’s chin to get a better look at his bruises. She stops before me and raises an eyebrow. “What? You didn’t fight back?”
I grit my teeth to hold back a reply. She smiles. “You were always a smart one, Damien. But not as smart as Bunny.”
“You manipulated him,” Sam says. The guard from before steps forward and kicks him in the back. Sam nearly topples, but manages to hold himself upright. I hear the whip uncoil. The Morrigan’s dark eyes flash to the guard.
“Thank you, Casteel. Your service is appreciated.” She walks over to Sam and strokes his cheek. “But I can’t have you scarring this face, do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” I hear the fear and anger in his voice.
“So here’s the plan, boys, you’ll be staying here until I round up your little leader and whore. Once you’re all back under my command I’ll determine if I’ll let you live or not.” Her eyes cut to Clinton. He’s never been her favorite. “Until then you’ll rot in the dungeons, s
o you better hope they get here fast.”
She nods at the guards behind us and they move fast, dragging us up to our feet. Clinton makes a break for it, lunging at the Queen. Her eyes widen in delight when he comes up short, and then laughs boldly when a hard baton cracks against the back of his knees. Our feet are linked by chains and when he falls I crash forward too, using the momentum to swipe the feet of the guards. Sam jumps into the fray, swinging the chain over his head and wrapping it around the throat of a guard.
“That’s enough!” Casteel roars but there’s no way we’re going down without a fight. It may be our last chance to cause any damage. I grab the blade off the nearest guard and stab him in the throat.
Blood sprays and the Morrigan says loud enough for everyone to hear, “When you’re finished playing, clean up this mess,” before she walks back upstairs to the sound of fist meeting flesh.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Dylan
I shouldn’t have left her.
That’s the only thought I have as I run across the city, jumping over sidewalks, dodging cars. It’s not until much later that I allow a few more negative images to push into my head.
I’ll never see her again.
The others will kill me.
I’ll kill him.
I race down an alley, passing by the areas the other Guardians had planned to visit. They’re nowhere to be seen. After looking in two other spots depicted by the paintings I return home, hoping they gave up.
If only I could fly, I think, feeling the sharp pang of sadness and loss, I’d be able to see the city better. Find them. Those days are lost. My ties to the Otherside are broken. The Nead comes into view. The glass pane of my attic window glints and a shadow passes behind it.
Davis. Of course he knew I would arrive back home. I race through the back door, skidding over the threshold. I’m out of breath when I reach the foyer of my room. Davis stands near the fireplace holding a bottle of water. I take it from him and drink it all in a fast gulp.
