by Laney McMann
"I know," I repeated for the third time. My head wasn't really into practicing throwing fire. I'd already created a charred black ring of earth and melted snow around the area where we were standing. Every time I summoned the flames to just under the surface of my skin, some other entity took over with so much force that fire shot from my palms and blasted me backward onto my butt.
The entity was Teine. It was as though she wanted to set everything on fire and kill us all. Maybe she did. I couldn't blame her if that was the case. Losing MacCoinnich at the age of ten, being killed and buried in a freezing tomb next to his for the last few thousand years might piss me off, too. Still, I had to learn to control her presence somehow and in a very short period of time. Thankfully, the Morrigan's presence was still absent. Maybe Teine set her essence on fire somehow. I grinned at the thought, which was so weird. All of it was so damn weird. How could three entities inhabit one body? Impossible.
Impossible if you were human. You're not.
With a sigh, I glanced up, silence pressing in. Justice was eyeing me. "What?"
"I'm talking to you ..." His eyebrows lifted, hands on his hips.
"Oh. Sorry. What'd you say?"
His brow hitched further up. "I said that at some point later tonight, I am going to slip out of that godforsaken ice chamber they have us holed up in and search the castle for Benny."
"What?" I yelled it. It wasn't as if I hadn't thought about Benny, too, worried, but Elethan assured me she would be unharmed as long as I showed up for the Battle. We'd made a deal. Cara leaves, Benny remains unharmed, and I would fight. Granted, if I lost, then everyone including Benny would be lost, but I was trying to not think about that.
"I need to find her, get her out of here, before tomorrow at daybreak," Justice said with an edge in his voice.
Reality dawned on me. "You don't think I'm going to win, do you? And Benny dies here if I lose."
He glanced toward the ground and let out a breath of white smoke. "Answer me this ..." Chin raised, his eyes centered on my own. "Do you want to win?"
I felt like he slapped me. "I ..." My heart pounded, hands fidgeting. "I don't want anyone to die if I lose." It was an honest answer.
"That's not what I asked."
"I know." I knew exactly what he meant. Would I do it, kill Max? Not could I, if and when it came to that, but would I?
"Well?" His tone wasn't harsh, but warm, soft, and concerned.
"No," I whispered at the ground. "I don't want to win." Justice let out another breath, and his eyes were closed when I glanced back up. "But Teine does."
His eyes popped open, and he tilted his head to the side, with a slightly troubled expression, as if he thought maybe I'd finally lost it.
"Teine wants to win," I said, repeating my words when he didn't say anything. "And when the time comes, she not only could, but would, kill Max." But I'll do everything within my power to stop her.
His mouth opened.
"Does that answer your question?"
"Okay." He crossed his hands over his chest. "You have my full attention. How do you know that?"
"Because I can feel her ... getting ... stronger. She's ... angry, I think." I know.
Justice's eyes narrowed. "At Max?"
I shrugged. "I think ... I think maybe Max did something. Something we don't know about, but Teine, she knows."
His brows squeezed together. "Well, that may be the weirdest thing you've ever said, but explain what you mean."
"Last night when I woke you up ... I said I was having a bad dream ..." I let out a breath.
"Yeah."
"It was her, I was dreaming about Teine at the Battle. I was her. Seeing through her eyes. Right now, I guess ... I guess she's seeing through mine. I don't know how it works … which is really creepy."
"Agreed, go on." He glanced at my eyes with a pained expression, settling on the blue one for half a second, and motioned with his hand for me to keep talking.
"Well, in the nightmare, she asked Max how he wanted to die." I glanced at my hands and up again. Justice was wide-eyed. "She told him that ... she saw what he did."
Justice let out a low whistle. "Whoa."
"Yeah." I stared back at my hands. "Whoa. I thought she meant Max killing Ryan, but ..." I shook my head. "Now, I don't know."
"Layla, Max didn't do anything, do anything, if that's what you're thinking." Justice tilted his head as if he wanted me to look up at him.
"He kissed Ana," I said, raising my head. "He kissed Ana when I saw him here at the Fomore castle ... the day he told me it was over between us." I took in a chilling breath. "He told me to leave before he hurt me. That is was over between us."
"Excuse me?" Justice's eyebrows were one straight line over his eyes, which had turned into deep blue pools. "Why in the hell didn't you tell me that before now?"
"I didn't want to believe it," I said, my focus toward the ground. "He told me it was over between us, and I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to believe what I saw was real, but it was." The memory of Max leaning back and brushing his lips over the Vampyress' brought up sheer rage and pain. Red streaked across my sightline. I wanted to hit him. "It was real."
"Wait ... seriously, back up a second to Ana." Justice held his arms up in the air. "You think he's done something, Max has, something ... more with Ana—is that what you're saying you think your nightmare was about?"
I nodded. "They dated. It's not like you don't know that. I know he's kissed her before but ..." I shut that sequence of images down.
"Listen, I understand it makes you really upset, and don't take this the wrong way, but if Max did something with Ana after the two of you got together, which I really doubt, then he'll have to answer to you. It's not my business, or my concern ... and honestly not the issue." He ran a hand through his always messy hair, melting the clinging snow flurries. "If he ... if Max threatened you—" Justice's hands balled into fists. "If he threatened you then I'm as good as dead as Ryan is, because friend or not, angel or not, if he—"
"Justice ..."
He held up a hand for me to hush, breaths heaving. "If he ... I swear to god, Layla, if Max—"
"Justice! Stop." I shook my head. "Why do you think I'm here? So Max and I can sit down and talk this out? He's one of them now. He is. The whole thing between us was nothing but magical coercion.” I took a breath. “I'm doing my best to accept it, trying to make my peace with it, save my family. What choice do I have? But it doesn't mean I want to hurt him, doesn't mean it will be something I can easily do, that it won't kill me in the process, or that I won't be an empty shell afterward if I do or Teine does. I don't want you getting killed because of me, either." I sighed. "It's just ... hard. How can one person be one thing one second and something else the next? Just like that." I snapped my fingers. "I lost him ... just like that."
Justice stared, and without a word, spun on his heel and tore away, running through the trees, leaving slushy footprints in his wake.
"Wha—where are you going?" I ran after him.
"Maybe you're 'trying' to make peace with all of this ..." He made little quotes with his fingers in the air, still walking away from me. " ... but I'm not."
"What do you mean, you're not? You've been helping me, trying to teach me to throw that stupid dagger that has a mind of its own. Teaching me about Teine and the Morrigan ... making a plan for me to go through with this—get through this. What's that called, if it's not you trying to make peace with the fact that I have to fight Max? That he's one of them now?"
"I told you before I didn't believe Max had gone over to the Shadows, that he has to fight or they would kill you, and I meant it. That he would put up a front if he had to." Justice stopped and swung back around to face me. "But if he threatened you, face to face, told you to get away from him or he'd hurt you—" His voice pitched, bulging veins showing in his neck. "There won't be a battle for you to fight, Layla, and you won't have to worry about whether you win or lose, no one will, becau
se I'll be the one taking Max's ass out." He swung back around and stomped toward the castle across the barren grounds. "Don't think I can't, either," he yelled. "I know him. I know his weaknesses, and if he is a Demon God now, then he'll thank me for killing him."
"Justice! Don't."
"Go back to your room. I'll meet you there."
"Justice!"
He didn't flinch, didn't hesitate or say anything else, but shifted into his gargoyle form, leathered black wings spread wide, and took off. I ran after him, but I wasn't fast enough. A second later, he disappeared into the trees.
15
MAX
"You can't seriously be trusting the Morrigan's word?" Sam walked beside me across the Fomore grounds, footsteps crunching through the snow, after we'd successfully made it back from the Afterworld—something he was still shocked he'd managed without getting me killed.
"No, but it's not like I have a choice. You said that yourself. She has the power to kill Layla, and god knows what else she's capable of. I'm going to have to play the game for now. Honestly, I can't help being a little bit happy about it."
"Happy?" Sam's voice pitched. "The poison has definitely deluded your brain."
"I don't have to attack Layla—don't have to try to forcibly remove the Morrigan from her body," I said. "She'll be alive. Safe. That's all I want. That's good news."
"I'm not seeing anything good about this." Sam shook his head, eyeing me. "The Morrigan could kill Layla at any time. Any time at all. She'll have you wrapped around her finger for ... eternity if you agree to do this. Holding Layla's life over your head. And what about Layla, while we're at it?" He stopped walking. "What's she going to say when she realizes you've shacked up with the Crone in order to save her life? Do you understand any of this? Because I swear I'm seriously concerned about your mental state." His brows notched upward, and I tried not to laugh. It wasn't funny, but Sam giving a damn about my mental state, much less Layla's, was a wide turn from where we were only a few days ago.
"Why are you smiling at me, weirdo?" His arms flew up in the air. "There's nothing to be smiling about. You still have to go through with your plan in the Battle. You still have to kill the Morrigan. There are too many unknowns."
"I'm not disagreeing with you." I walked forward again. "I'm just saying I like the odds better than I did before. The Morrigan is vulnerable. I plan to use that against her."
"You have to fight Layla—face her in the Battle."
I shrugged. "Just for show."
Sam gave me a sideways glance and heaved a breath. "It can't just be for show, aren't you listening?" He stopped in the slush again. "We, all of us, your angels, good or bad, corrupt, not corrupt, we need the Morrigan dead." He stared, his blue-eyed gaze searing into mine. "You're the only one who can do that—you or Layla. The King wasn't lying about that. The Morrigan's Curse will eventually kill all the angels. And maybe you don't give a damn about the others, or even about me—I wouldn't blame you if you didn't—but Justice and Tristan ..." He paused, and my heart dropped. "I know those are your boys. Always have been. Everyone knows that." He inhaled another unsteady breath, letting it out slowly. "If you won't fight for the rest of us, fight for them. Kill the Morrigan for them. End the curse for them."
I stared at him, wishing it was that simple. It wasn't. "Are you worried about Benny?"
Sam gave a small, harsh snicker. "Nice subject change. No. I'm not worried about her." He started walking.
"We haven't heard anything since she left." I came up beside him, both of us still heading for the castle. "Clearly she didn't talk to Justice before he got here."
"I'm not worried," Sam repeated. "She'll do what needs to be done. She's tough. Shape-shifters have their own breed of magic. She'll come through."
"What about Ryan?" I shoved my hands in my pockets. "Did he talk to the rest of the Fallen before—do they know—"
"That you cut his head off?" He chuckled. "I'll take care of filling them in on what's happened. Most of the angels hate me, though." Sam grinned a non-caring smile. "I was with you—watching out for you and Layla—before this went down, if you remember? Even though I didn't like you."
"You mean even though you betrayed me to Elethan? Betrayed Justice and Tristan—almost got us all killed ... and fessed up the location of my house to the Sluagh—who destroyed it? Yeah." I eyed him. "I remember it well."
"I said I was sorry about all of that. Damn. How many times do I have to say it? I'm sorry. I was trying to free myself. Call it selfish, call it what you want—but being cursed the way the angels are ... I am—you have no idea how it feels—the pain we're all in."
I remembered Tristan. The dark wells underneath his eyes when he'd yelled at me at my grandmother's house weeks before, telling me not to trust the King. The day he saw the Fomorian Coat of Arms on my throat. I remembered him limping across the Layla's Infirmary room in the Otherworld on crutches. Tristan was in pain. I'd known it for a while. I heaved a breath.
"Anyway," Sam said, breaking through my internal struggle. "Now I'm with you again, so the other angels still don't trust me." He shrugged. "Don't blame them, really."
"Just keep them away from Layla when the Battle goes down. Killing Layla and killing the Morrigan are two different things. Killing Layla alone won't free them of the Curse. You heard the Morrigan say it herself." I opened the castle doors and stepped inside.
"Right."
Elethan sat in his customary chair near one of the raging hearths in the main room as Sam and I entered. I was hoping to avoid seeing him, having to explain where we'd gone, but the King of the Fomore wasn't duped easily. Hands steepled under his chin, he raised his head as we approached, pulling his attention away from a large leather-bound book resting open across his lap. Thankfully, it was not the one stashed away underneath the bed in my chambers.
"Son." He gave a pleasant smile.
"Father." I came to stand next to the chair across from him, Sam at my side, the usual Fomorian guards flanking the outer walls and doorways like abnormally large melted wax candles. I wondered once again why their bodies looked that way.
"Out for an early morning stroll?" The King set the book down on a wooden table at his side, his leftover plate of breakfast nothing but strawberry stems and crumbs.
"Early training." I returned his fake smile. "Wouldn't want to spoil the festivities without showing everyone what I'm capable of," I said, repeating the exact words he'd said to me the day before.
He laughed. "Ah. Yes, true, very true. We do want to put on a good show for our guests. Samuel?" His gaze fell toward Sam. "I thought you had responsibilities other than training MacKenzie? I am sure I do not need to tell you twice." He grinned. "Ryan is quite capable of weapons training, I believe."
Sam seemed to have trouble holding back the half chuckle that spilled from his mouth. "Ryan's gone."
"Gone?" Elethan's eyes narrowed. "Gone where?"
"He sort of ..." I glanced at Sam, unsure what to say.
"Lost his head," Sam supplied with a perfectly straight face.
"Yeah." I grinned, knowing in the back of my brain it wasn't funny at all, but all that poison in my blood thought it was funny as hell, so the smile stayed. I turned back to face my father. "He sort of lost his head."
The King's light grey gaze took us both in. "I am beginning to believe the two of you are having entirely too much fun together. As I said before, it is like raising small children—mischievous and always underfoot." He pushed to stand, grabbing his book off the table. "Run along and see that you find Ryan. He has an agreement to uphold." The King's gaze fell toward Sam again, and there was an unmasked threat behind it. "Be sure he holds to it, or all the angels may find I am not so well mannered as they might believe me to be."
Sam nodded, but seemed unruffled. After meeting with the Morrigan, Elethan's bite had lost its edge. "I'll let him know the next time I see him." He cracked a smile.
"You do that." The King took a step forward, and the front
doors of the castle burst open, slamming against the inner walls of the entry. The two guards rushed the foyer—and Justice. Elethan yelled an order, but Justice was already across the room, his hand around my throat, holding me against the stone wall, his fangs bared.
"You threatened Layla?" He snarled in my face, deep blue-eyed glare searing into my own. "Tell me you didn't. Tell me my best friend isn't a fucking traitor and this whole deal is a scam. Tell me you didn't threaten her." He pressed his rough taloned hand against my trachea, cutting off all my air. I didn't fight back. "Tell me or I swear I'll kill you, here and now."
Without breath, I managed to crack a smile. I couldn't stop it. He was choking me, but I still couldn't stop the smile. Justice would do anything to protect Layla. I owed him my life for that alone, and I wished with everything in me, that for once, he could hear my thoughts. That I could tell him the truth and explain.
Justice frowned like he thought I was mocking him with the grin, and the guards clasped his shoulders, pulling him off of me. He reared back and caught one in the jaw. He punched the other in the gut with so much force the guard buckled to his knees. I drew in a staggered breath, but Justice's hand was back around my throat before I'd inhaled enough air to matter.
A grin graced the King's lips, as he held up a hand, halting the remaining sentries.
"You're like my brother," Justice said, through a deep growl, inches from my face. "My family." His eyes glazed over, pain washing them a much lighter blue. "Tell me you're not one of them," he whispered. "Tell me I still know you."
Eyes prickling, clouding my vision, I stared him in the face. "I'm not one of them. You know I'm not one of them."
Justice blinked, and blinked again, eyes darkening, staring. His hand loosened around my throat and fell to his side.
"Well, well," Elethan piped up. "What do we have here? Long lost friends having a spat?" He chuckled. "I am wondering, Gargoyle," he said, facing Justice, who was still staring as if he'd seen, or heard, a ghost. "Do you value your life at all?" the King asked. "You just attacked the one you swore to serve. I believe, if I am not mistaken ..." His gaze tracked toward me. "That the punishment for such an act, is death, is it not, Son?"
