by Angel Lawson
“Morgan, this is your chance to escape—get away from the Morrigan while you can,” I plead but she pulls away, disappearing down the dark stairway that leads to the dungeons. In seconds her boots are nothing but an echo and I curse, chasing her down.
By the time I arrive on the floor, she’s taken one soldier down by surprise and has another on his knees, her sword at his neck. “Hand me the keys,” she says.
He spits in her face. She moves with efficient speed and indifference, smashing him in the head with the hilt of the sword and snatching the metal ring of keys from his waist. Her chin juts forward in defiance. Her are shoulders straight. I feel like I’m seeing a different side of Morgan—the one that wants her Guardians back. Someone who will stop at nothing to protect those important to her.
The magnitude of my betrayal rains down on me as she approaches the gate leading to the dark cells. She will do anything for her Guardians. Maim and kill. Travel from one world to the next. I’m terrified to think of how far her sacrifice will go.
And how in one defiant, selfish move, I endangered us all.
She fumbles with the keys and I step forward and take them with steadier hands. The stench from the cell is inhumane and it’s so dark, I can’t see any of my brothers. “Are you sure about this?”
I expect wrath. Rage. Anger or some smart remark challenging my question. She just says, “Yes.”
“Okay, just…it may be…just be prepared.”
She looks at me, searching for intent, but I have none other than to serve her. If she sees that, I don’t know. The emotion reflected back at me is intense confusion and pain.
The lock flips, echoing off the rock walls. Morgan takes the keys back and steps over the threshold, peering into the dark.
“Hello,” she calls in a nothing more than a whisper. “Damien? Sam? Clinton?”
The response is the clank of chains. The scrape of metal against the floor. She pushes deeper into the cavernous dark and I wait at the entrance, keeping guard. She doesn’t speak but chokes back a sob, and I know she’s found them.
I’m moving to help her when I hear footsteps on the stairs. I take a deep breath and prepare for another fight.
Chapter 31
Morgan
I see Sam first, his pale skin stained with so much dirt that it was hard to see him. He’s curled in a fetal position and my heart nearly cracks at the sight. I fight back a gag at the smell, then the tears when I look at the sores on his back.
“Sam?” I touch his shoulder. He flinches but doesn’t respond otherwise. “I’m here. I’m getting you out of here, okay?”
Again, no reply. I reach down and touch him, feeling for the cuffs around his wrists, and shove the key into the lock. Then I do the same for the ones around his swollen, stiff ankles.
“Hey,” I say, pressing my forehead to his. The faintest energy pulses between us. “You’ve got to get up. I can’t carry all three of you out of here.” His eyes flutter and he blinks like he can’t fully focus. I kiss his brow. Then his nose. My lips are wet from tears of anger. I kiss him on the mouth and finally, I get a reaction. It’s nothing more than a sigh and a deep groan but he’s alive. I kiss him again, pressing my warm lips against his chapped, cold ones.
“Stand up if you can—or at least sit. I’m going to get the others.”
He nods, like a man coming out of a dream, and as much as it pains me, I leave him to feel around the dark crevices of the cell. It only takes a moment before I bump into something solid. I hold my hands out, palms flat and hear a hiss. He’s chained to the wall, upright. He sways back and forth.
“Clinton?”
I feel his chin, his chest. A low growl rumbles in his throat and I say, “It’s me. Morgan.”
“Don’t trick me, witch.”
“What?”
“Kill me if you want, but don’t put on the face of your enemy.”
I touch his cheek and he flinches, turning away. “Clinton, it’s me.” I stroke his chest, feeling the bumpy, raw scabs that have recently healed over. He fights me but the energy burns between us—like it always has. He may think it’s magic or the Morrigan fucking with his head but I push on, lifting on my toes and whispering in his ear. With every word his shoulders loosen, and he turns his face in my direction.
“Morgan?” His voice is a whisper—a hope.
“Yeah. It’s me. We’ve got to get out of here.”
I unlock his chains and thankfully he’s stronger than Sam, able to move a bit faster, but I don’t know how long it will last. What’s happening with Dylan upstairs? Where are we even going to go? And Bunny? He said he would guard the door, but I sure as hell don’t trust him.
“Damien’s over there,” he says, pointing toward a small window. It’s dark outside but faint moonlight filters in the glassless, barred windows.
It doesn’t take as long to find him. His body is lit by the moon. He’s asleep on the floor but wakes seconds before I reach him. Dark rage fills his eyes but it shifts immediately when he sees me. “Babe?”
“Yeah.”
“You came.”
“Of course I came,” I say, relieved I don’t have to convince him it’s really me. He moves slowly, but he too can move. Blood clots at the edge of his swollen, bruised mouth and I touch his head, feeling unfamiliar stubble from the weeks of growth. I nearly burst into tears when I see him. I’m just so happy to have him and the others back.
Or almost back.
“Bunny,” Clinton says, his words slurring. “He…”
“I know.”
“I don’t know what happened. Why?”
“Me either,” I say, walking back to the front of the cell and stooping to pick up Sam. I touch his hair, his face. He’s weak and so skinny. Damien bears some of the weight. “But we’ll figure it out.”
Bunny is gone when we reach the front of the cell, but I hear voices and touch my sword, thinking I don’t have anything left to put into a fight. I just want to get my men to safety. A shadow turns the corner and I muster the strength, lifting the blade before me and keeping the Guardians behind me.
Bunny rounds the corner and Clinton grunts and tenses when he sees him, but I hold up my hand. “I don’t know where Bunny stands, but at the moment he’s all we’ve got.”
“He can’t be trusted.”
“I know,” I stare him down. “I know what he did. But he saved me upstairs and we don’t have much choice.”
Bunny does nothing but gape at the Raven Guard, nearly shrinking at the sight of facing the men he betrayed.
“Who were you talking to?” I ask, keeping myself between him and Clinton. Before he can answer, I spot the smaller figure behind him. The form is familiar, slight, as though it’s nothing more than a wisp. She steps into the faint light and I see it’s the servant from my rooms.
Footsteps rumble overhead. Not Dylan. No, a group, probably the rest of Casteel’s soldiers now that they realize the carnage in the hallway outside my room. I don’t want to be here when they find the fallen men down here.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” I say, fighting back the panic. I know I don’t have the energy to fight much longer.
The girl steps forward, stepping between me and Bunny. “I can help.”
“How?” The footsteps are closer, I hear Sam shudder behind me. He’s fading fast.
“Come,” she says. “Follow me.”
It’s not like we have a choice. The soldiers’ angry voices echo at the bottom of the stairwell, discovering the body of their men. The girl walks in the opposite direction, toward the stone wall. I think maybe she’s crazy, traumatized from gods know how long of living as a slave of the Morrigan. But a foot from the wall she turns, facing the side wall, and touches a stone. There’s movement, the sound of stone grating on stone, and a small, narrow passage becomes visible.
I sigh, knowing that it’s a risk. It’s all one risk after the other. But it’s for a bigger goal--stopping the Morrigan--and I can’t do it without my
Guardians, and there’s no way any of us will survive another altercation. Dylan isn’t going to save us, even if he’s still alive.
I nod at the girl and make a decision that could either save or kill us, and climb into the passage.
*
The tunnel is long and incredibly dark. I blindly follow the sound of the girl walking in front of me, and listen to the labored breaths of my guardians coming from behind. The smell goes from musty to damp as we travel and the floor slants, taking us deeper and deeper beneath the castle. Just when I think we’re going to have to stop and rest, the girl calls for us to stop. A hand grips my shoulder. I’m not sure which one of my guardians it is, but I feel the instant surge of power between us, helping him heal just a little bit.
I hear a series of knocks, light tapping on what sounds like a wooden door. Light seeps through a crack, then a long shaft down the tunnel, bathing us all in a yellow glow. I can’t see what’s on the other side, but it has to be better than where we are.
Bunny and I help the Guardians toward the exit, blinking as we acclimate to the light and the strange, humid warmth wafting our way. The girl waits for me and smiles as I pass. “You’ll be safe down here and can stay as long as you need to recuperate.”
“Down here” is a cavernous world beneath the surface, an entire community built into the ground. From the looks of it, a thriving community. For the first time since I passed through the gates, I feel safe.
“Thank you,” I say, squeezing her hand.
With a glance behind me, she says, “Your men need help. Follow me.”
Chapter 32
Morgan
“What is this place?” I ask Nevis. The slave finally agreed to tell me her name after she got my guardians safely to the medics. “Why are you helping us?”
We’re standing outside a small cave dug into the black-brown earth. A swarm of men and women sprang into action the instant we appeared, following Nevis’ directions to clean up and look over the wounds. I’d pushed to enter with them, but she held up her hand and told me to let them do their work. Bunny stood to the side, awkward and silent—too many questions surround him.
“My people built this community many centuries ago—when the goddess first went mad. When her heart was broken and she declared war on all people, there were few survivors. She scorched the land, turning it into nothing but barren ash and bone. The only place to survive was underground, in the caverns beneath the castle that had been in existence since the beginning of time.”
“Does she know this place is here?”
Nevis shakes her head. “She’s too vain to consider that life flourishes in her place of destruction—especially under her nose. We’re protected down here and a few of us always maintain positions in the castle to keep an eye on things. It’s a job traditionally carried down from one generation to the next.”
I look around the open space. The air is warm, damp with humidity. For the first time in days, the chill in my bones disappears. Several small ponds of fresh water are fed by a stream coming from an outside source. Light shafts stretch from the high, rugged ceiling. It’s gray like the sky above, but it reflects off the water and the gardens filled with plump, unfamiliar vegetables. Homes tuck into the walls; some natural crevices, others dug into the surface. People mill about, in the middle of normal daily activities. Cooking. Tending the gardens. Caring for children.
“You didn’t answer my other question,” I say, watching a small group of children run past. They’re clean and look well-fed. “Why are you helping us?”
Nevis toys with the end of her braid, her hair as dark as my own. Her eyes are a deep blue and I notice this is the coloring of most of the people down here. Including much paler skin. “Legend tells us the tales of the Morrigan and how she came into existence. The stories of how her heart was betrayed. How she used her pain to wage war and wrath on Cu’s armies.” She leans closer. “There are other stories. Ones about the three sisters. That the Morrigan is only one part of the powerful Goddess that rules over this realm.”
“I’ve heard the myths.”
“My people have always believed in this version and have waited centuries for the reuniting of the three.”
Embrace, the Shaman had said.
“You believe the myths.”
“Yes, and you must know your role in all of this. I knew it the moment you crossed through the gate. Before, even. When the Queen brought the mythical Raven Guard here to torture and imprison, I knew you must be gaining strength in your own world. Enough for her to panic. I’m helping you because I know you may very well be the key.”
The key.
I think back to my story—the one that haunted me for years—consumed my daydreams as a child. The cat and the prince and the ravens watching me from above. The key that opened the gate from one world to the next.
“What are you saying?” I ask.
“You may be the only hope we have to save this realm.” She nods over to the structure that holds my men. “You and your Guardians.”
I know enough that there could be truth to her ideas—that I am part of something bigger, but there are things she may not know. “She’s doing a lot of damage back home, horrible things. I am here to stop that—to find what will stop the sickness back home.”
“A virus?” she asks. I nod. “Tell me about this sickness.”
I describe the symptoms. The way it sucks the life away from a person and the way it’s transmitted, starting with two of her own minions using me as a conduit. “Not only are my friends in danger, the whole world is. The Morrigan has made her move to cross realms.”
“So you didn’t come here to save us.”
I reach for Nevis’ hand. “I didn’t even know you existed. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to help you, too. I’m just not sure I have as much power as you think I do.”
Dylan and the others seem to think I’m the answer—this woman, too. But other than some mediocre fighting skills, a few magic tricks, and an unusual bond between me and four men, I’m not really sure what these powers are or how to use them.
Nevis doesn’t seem as apprehensive. She smiles, revealing a chipped tooth that doesn’t detract from her quiet beauty or the expression of hope filling her eyes. “Then let’s make you strong and take the rest from there.”
*
Bunny watches me closely as I walk away from Nevis and toward the small hut. I want desperately to ignore him, but now that we’re relatively safe, the emotions of the last few hours crash over me: Casteel and his assault; Dylan showing up to finish the fight; Bunny protecting me. I dare a glance and find him walking toward me. I push down my confused feelings.
“Are you going in?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Good.” He shoves his glasses up his nose with one finger. “I know now is not the time—”
“No. It’s not.”
“It’s not. I know, it’s just that I’m sor—”
“Bunny.” I cut him off. “If we get out of this alive and Dylan the others don’t kill you first, we can talk. That’s when I’ll decide what to do about everything that’s happened between us.” I swallow back the rage building in my chest. I am not over what Bunny has done. Not even close, but I have bigger problems and some major healing to apply to my Guardians, and right now isn’t the time.
“Take care of them,” he says, knowing what I’m about to do. “I’ll guard the door.”
I nod and leave him to begin the healing process with Guardians and prepare them for the next phase in the war.
*
A few members of the underground community are in the room when I enter. Their clothes are shabby but clean. The building itself seems to be a very small clinic. Vials and bottles line the shelves on the wall. Wooden boxes filled with bandages and other supplies are stacked neatly.
The whole place seems surreal, but I have little option other than to trust them and to trust Bunny.
Calling it a hut is generous—it’s basic
ally a cave. How do these people survive down here? All three of my men are sleeping on a pallet of blankets and furs on the floor. Sam, looking weak and frail, is in the middle, flanked on both sides by Damien and Clinton. One healer remains, wiping down Sam’s feet with a towel. Glasses of half-consumed, clear liquid are on the ground.
“Call for us if you need anything.”
“Thank you.” I look down at my men. They’ve been cleaned and their wounds tended to. I choke back a wave of emotion. “For everything.”
The door closes with a click.
I undress as I walk toward the bed, kicking off my boots, lifting my shirt over my head, and dropping my trousers to the floor. I’m bare underneath—the battle upstairs gave me little time to dress. I feel the appraising gaze of eyes on me and look up to find Damien watching my every move. Dropping to my knees, I crawl to him while the others sleep.
He reaches for me with a rough hand. I take it, kissing the raw skin on his knuckles. Lifting the blankets, I slip beneath and snuggle next to his too-skinny body and run my hands up and down the tattoos on his chest. Skin to skin, we connect.
He presses his lips to mine and breathes, “Gods, I missed you.”
Chapter
Damien
At first, I don’t think she’s real. I think it’s another dream. Another fantasy I used to stay sane during the weeks of imprisonment and torture. I only thought of her face. Her eyes. Her body. I dreamed of her bursting through the door and snapping Casteel’s neck. I knew she would come. I knew my Queen would not allow me to fester and die in his rotting cell.
Even so, her voice sounds so far away. Not real. Certainly not of this realm. But she says my name. She touches my skin and the charge of energy that only exists between Morgan and her Raven Guard bolts like lightning through my limbs.
I’m unsure how long ago that was. An hour? A day? But I’m clean and a team of strange healers tended to my wounds. And I’m about to slip into sleep when the door opens and she appears, back in my life like she’d never been gone.
