The Goddess Chronicles Books 4-6: Urban Fantasy

by KB Anne

  “Including Balor,” I whisper.

  “Balor is dreadful. His fate is aligned with Caer, Scott’s true love,” Granda says.

  I glare at him.

  “Caer, powerful warrior.”

  “Much better.”

  “Why don’t I think I’m going to like the sound of him,” Maddie says.

  “He is a one-eyed giant who turns people to stone with his gaze.”

  My stomach wrenches as I realize what Granda’s words really mean—Scott is in danger.

  “We have to get back there. If Caer’s fate is tied with Balor’s, Scott’s fate is too.”

  “The real danger lies when the veils fall and the protective shields disappear. All the Fomorians will crawl back onto the Earth’s surface. They will be able to return anytime they want to. They will not be tied to the moon or the rules of the universe.”

  “Does that include Fomorian witches?”

  Clarissa’s eyes pierce mine. “You’ve met one, haven’t you.”

  “Well, not so much in person, per se, but one took up residence in my high school nemesis’s body.”

  “She took a vessel . . .” Clarissa says to Granda.

  “It’s happening sooner than foretold.”

  I see you, the Witch scrapes into my mind, ripping off another fragment of my already questionable sanity.

  As Clarissa and Granda continue to discuss the merits of different methods of preparation for the inevitable battle, I watch Lizzie and Ryan in their cells. They have both stopped fighting to get out, but I sense it is short-lived.

  Of all the times for the world to come to an end, it had to be when I needed to provide don’t-kill-Gigi therapy sessions to my two best friends.

  Clarissa and Granda leave at sunrise to call a coven meeting and to collect herbs and other magical objects in preparation for the gathering. The topic? A plan of attack to ward off the monsters that go bump in the night.

  Maddie stays with me to keep me company. His presence provides a constant source of comfort to me. It could be his connection to Alaric, or it might be because I am desperate for companionship. My best friends are locked in a cell across from me, vying for a chance to escape and possibly kill me. I’ve never felt so alone.

  “How long are you planning to stand there and watch them?”

  I fold into a cross-legged seated position, still staring at Ryan and Lizzie. “As long as it takes.”

  He sits down next to me. “For what?”

  “Either for them to return to themselves and not want to kill me, or I figure out how to return them to themselves.”

  “Pre-werewolf?” he whispers.

  I swallow the bile creeping up my throat. “Pre-werewolf.”

  “Is that even possible?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Evidently, when Clayone took the plunge into the deep end of the River of Blessing and changed into a werewolf, it meant that all future werewolves would have a trace of the River of Blessing flowing in their veins. Granda and Clarissa told me there was no way to remove it. Lucky for me. Heck, lucky for the world (and I mean that as sarcastically as possible).

  But they don’t know how desperate I am to save my friends. They don’t know I would give my last breath to save them. They are werewolves because of me, because of who I am (well, at least Ryan is). I have to find a way to save them or die trying.

  I open my palms to the universe and rest them on my knees. Maddie mirrors my position. His energy mingles with mine, creating an even more powerful force. Maddie possesses the magic of a werewolf, but he is also something else. In time I’ll figure out what and help him control his gifts as Gallean and Clarissa taught me to control mine. For now, I’ll make the most of his assistance. I breathe in and out, focusing on my breath. My sole objective is to find a cure for Lizzie and Ryan. I try to concentrate on the cure.

  Cure. Cure, I chant in my head, but my mind wanders to Alaric and the time he showed me the Sacred Well of Brigit hidden in a thick grove of oak trees. Dense layers of ivy hung down from their branches, creating a heavy curtain from the outside world. A small babbling brook gurgled peacefully in the center. Wildflowers, herbs, and lilies blanketed the ground. Rays of sunlight shimmered down through the thick canopy, creating sparkles on everything they touched. The whispers of confessions were spoken in this grove, near my well. Alaric told me he had done terrible things. He worried that if we slept together, he’d become more obsessed with me than he already was. Only later did I understand just why we felt so connected. Cycles of our reincarnations, doppelgangers if you will, kept finding each other, falling in love, and getting ripped apart.

  The second time I found Alaric at Brigit’s Well, he was in a trance and speaking to a reflection in the water. A beautiful gray and white wolf stared up at me from the still water with intense green eyes. It was truth I saw there. Not an ugly twisted truth but a pure one.

  “You,” he whispered. “I knew it was you.”

  But he wasn’t talking to me. He was talking to the reflection of me standing behind the wolf. He saw the shapeshifter nature of himself as a curse.

  The werewolf curse tore us from each other in every reincarnation. Something tells me in my subconscious that this is our last try. A lone tear trails down my cheek and evaporates with the sun.

  The werewolf curse is what started everything. Alaric begged for my help.

  I am the answer.

  If I could remove the River of Blessing and lift Derg’s spell, I could cure every werewolf. I tap deeper into my subconscious. There, beneath the layers of reincarnations, comes the beginning . . .

  A man covered in animal skin dropped a wolf hide in front of my other brother. Derg laughed, for he was not impressed. “A wolf? You want to become a wolf? What can a wolf do except eat a few sheep?” And on and on went his tirade until finally, the shaman spoke. “An immortal wolf, my lord. An immortal wolf that can change shape whenever he wants. Kill with one clench of his jaw. Destroy an entire village in one night. Panic and terror will rule the land, and your power will grow with every tragic death. I will bring you chaos. I will bring you destruction. I will bring you death if you grant me this one small request.”

  My brother stroked his beard. As a child, he never liked to share with Oegden or me, and he only grew more vain as the years passed. The shaman had appealed to his vanity and his thirst for power, for above all else, Derg wanted to be the most powerful god.

  The shaman, with his purpose steadfast, entered the River of Blessing, drank from its waters, and survived. At the time, I worried about the ramifications of a man who could shift into a wolf, but Oegden and I stayed out of our brother’s affairs as best we could. Little did any of us realize that Clayone intended to create an army of immortal werewolves, murderous beasts with the intention of taking over the world.

  Later, Derg came to me outraged that a lowly shaman had duped him. While I felt little sympathy for my brother’s bruised ego, I cared deeply for human life. I cast three spells to temper the werewolves . . .

  Bound to the full moon.

  Death by silver.

  The herb nightlock to prevent the change.

  As I come out of the meditation, I finger one of the nightlock-imbued crystals on my necklace. I never got the chance to give it to Alaric. Sadness combines with anger. As a goddess, I should have done better than alleviate the curse. I should have tried to remove it. I could remove it. Words form in my mind.

  “Bain an mallacht a cheanglaíonn.”

  The crystal grows warm beneath my fingers.

  “Bain an mallacht a cheanglaíonn.”

  Lizzie begins to wail as I continue chanting. Soon Ryan falls to the ground, clutching his stomach.

  “Bain an mallacht a cheanglaíonn.”

  Maddie moans next to me. “What’s happening?”

  But I am too deep into the spell to answer him.

  “Bain an mallacht a cheanglaíonn.”

  Blood seeps from Lizzie’s eyes. I continue cha
nting.

  “Bain an mallacht a cheanglaíonn.”

  Ryan screams. Blood streams from the corner of his eyes too.

  A familiar presence emerges from the shadows.

  “Bain an mallacht a cheanglaíonn.”

  Gigi, stop. Stop, you’re killing yourself, Brigit screams in my head.

  I continue chanting as Alaric appears in front of me, blood dripping from his eyes.

  “Bain an mallacht a cheanglaíonn.”

  The blood-stained faces of wolves who walk on their hind legs surround me. I continue chanting, ignoring Brigit, ignoring the blood pouring out of the eyes of the three people I care about above all the wolves, ignoring their cries to stop.

  I land on a cliff along the coast. In the distance, Scott swings and beheads three creatures, only to have twelve more attack. His gaze falls on me, his eyes wild, battle fury taking over.

  “Gi, get out.”

  Fighting erupts around me. I no longer know what’s real and what’s in my mind.

  Swirling tornadoes.

  The ground cracks and breaks apart.

  Blood everywhere.

  “When magic occurs from whence only shadows exist, the storm shall ring upon the border and crush its walls. The greatest of pressure delivers the truest of choices.”

  “Gigi, you will die here,” Scott yells. His warning roars in my ears.

  Gigi, you will die.

  Alaric drops to his knees in front of me. “You’re killing me.”

  My remaining energy seeps out of me, and I collapse in front of the crescent moon garden.

  I gasp for breath, fighting to free myself from the tangle of objects smothering me to death. I kick and thrash. I yank and twist until strong arms pin me in place.

  “Gigi, calm yourself,” Clarissa whispers. “You’re safe now. You’re okay.”

  I wake to Maddie holding me down, with Clarissa and Granda hovering on either side of my bed. I wasn’t getting smothered to death. My pillow and blankets got wrapped around my body.

  “What happened?”

  Maddie removes his hands and helps to unwind the sheets knotting around my legs.

  “Well,” Clarissa says, propping my head up with a pillow, “you have Madigan here to thank. He saved your life.”

  “What? How? The last thing I remember I was gripping the crystal.”

  Maddie kneels down beside me. “You started chanting a spell, and then . . .” he wipes his eyes. There’s still a spot of blood at the corner of it.

  “I made blood pour out of your eyes.”

  He nods. “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “But how did you break free?”

  He casts a sheepish look in my direction. “I went invisible.”

  “And by going invisible . . .”

  “The spell was lifted. Good thing, too, because you passed out.”

  “And that’s when we happened upon you,” Granda says.

  The pieces begin to fall into place. Blood pouring from every werewolf’s eyes, including—

  I jerk up. “Alaric. Where’s Alaric?”

  “He’s long gone,” Clarissa whispers, stroking my hair back.

  Panic seizes my throat. “Did I . . . did I kill him?”

  Granda hands me a mug of tea. “No, dear, he disappeared after you knocked yourself unconscious.”

  Tears spring in my eyes. “He was coming to kill me, wasn’t he.”

  Clarissa sits next to me on the bed, her presence like a powerful balm. “We don’t know that for certain. He may have had other reasons for coming to the garden.”

  “To free Lizzie.”

  “Perhaps,” she murmurs, stroking my hair. “We may never know for sure.”

  I sit up, suddenly remembering my vision. “Scott. Scott’s in danger. I saw him in battle. I was on top of a cliff, along a shoreline, and he was fighting monsters.” I gasp as realization hits me. “They were Fomorians, weren’t they.”

  “Sounds like it,” Granda says sadly. He and Clarissa share a long look.

  Clarissa closes her eyes, searching her mind. “It’s possible that what you saw has yet to occur.”

  “We need to find him. We need to help him.”

  Maddie rises from his seated position and gently pushes me back against the pillow. “Easy, Gigi,” he says. “Easy.”

  Granda places his hand over mine. “If your vision of Scott battling the Fomorian army is real, the fight will soon be brought here.”

  “But first,” Clarissa says, “we need to know what sort of spell you were working that almost killed you.” Her crystal blue eyes try to penetrate into mine.

  My head grows dull, my vision fuzzy around the edges. “You spelled me with the tea.”

  “Never mind that. We need to know what spell, Gigi.”

  “I was trying to remove the River of Blessing from their veins. I was trying to undo the curse of the werewolf.”

  She falls back against the bed.

  Granda runs to her side. “Ris, what’s wrong?”

  “If Gigi had succeeded in her spell, she wouldn’t have lifted the curse of the werewolf.”

  Maddie swings his head in her direction. “What would she have done?”

  “Lifted all the spells she cast to bind the werewolf. Then the unbridled army of immortal werewolves would begin.”

  I hold the dull ache in my head, a reminder of the stunt I tried to pull. “Well, shit. That would have sucked.”

  Granda sits at the foot of the bed. “That is a gross understatement. What were you thinking? We told you that once the River of Blessing ran through a werewolf’s veins, there was nothing that could remove it.”

  “I’m stubborn.”

  “And overconfident in your abilities,” Clarissa adds.

  I drop my head to my chest. “That’s true too.”

  She lifts my chin, her gaze pinning me in place. “It’s okay to be confident in your magic. In fact, it’s the only way for most spells to be successful. But I would suggest for the immediate future that you check with Amorin or myself before trying a powerful spell. We don’t want you dying on us.” She winks.

  She possesses a morbid, slightly perverse sense of humor. I like it.

  “A good idea, but I probably won’t end up doing it.”

  She grins at me. “Oh, I know. I was once young too.”

  “As was I,” Granda says.

  “I’m still young,” Maddie adds, “and since I’m usually with Gigi, I’ll make sure she checks with one of you first.”

  “Like a babysitter.”

  Maddie tilts his head at me, quirking his eyebrow. His eyes sparkle with humor. “More like a handler—to keep you out of trouble since Scott isn’t here. And a bodyguard because it seems like you need one of those too. What with all the werewolves, gods, and Fomorian witches ready to either kidnap or kill you, you’re in need of protection. Plus who knows what other monsters are about to surface.”

  “Nothing like a good pep talk to really get the spirit flowing!”

  “Just keeping it real, Gigi. Just keeping it real.”

  Maddie might think that he’ll be able to keep an eye on me, but he is surely mistaken. He doesn’t know me as well as he thinks he does. He is only familiar with Ireland Gigi. I’ve been mostly on my best behavior throughout my stay. Vernal Falls Gigi is an unknown entity to everyone in this room. She’s quite adept at breaking rules, slipping away without anyone knowing, and leaving behind a trail of chaos wherever she goes. My, how I’ve missed her.

  “Now that Maddie’s volunteered to be part of my protection detail, what about Scott’s protection? There has to be something we can do to ensure his safety. Maybe cast a powerful spell to knock out the Fomorians?”

  Granda squeezes my feet through the blanket. “Sadly, no. You are depleted, and if you tried to conduct any magic soon, and that includes portal creation, you could put your life at risk.”

  Here we go again. “I don’t care about my life.”

  “And the lives of everyone
you love, including all human life. Your magic could create a ripple effect that could kill everyone.”

  “Oh. When you put it that way . . .”

  Clarissa pats my hand. “Have some faith in Scott. He’s very gifted.”

  “A gifted pain in the ass.”

  “Gigi . . .”

  The sleeping draught Granda slipped me was strong, but not strong enough. Not for a reincarnated goddess at least. I dropped my eyelids shut while the three of them watched me. I even made my chest rise and fall, pretending to fall into a deep sleep, but all the while, I willed the spells away until I felt them evaporate from my body.

  They might believe that my magic needs time to recover before I conduct a big spell or else the world will end—talk about an over-exaggeration—but I’ve got some little spells in my fingers that’ll get the job done.

  I wait long into the night for their sounds of sleep. Maddie has taken up residence in Scott’s room since his departure to the Shadow Realm, and Clarissa also decided to stay with us (code for keeping an eye on me). I chant quietly with my eyes closed. I don’t need to slip each of them a sleeping draught—I can spell my own sleeping magic without the use of herbs.

  When I’m sure they are all asleep, I crawl out of bed. A wave of nostalgia causes me to linger and take one last look around my room before murmuring a thank-you to the three sleeping beauties and climbing out the window.

  Granda, Clarissa, and Maddie have no idea I’m saying my goodbyes to them. My new plan hinges on getting Alaric to realign himself with me. If he doesn’t, the consequences will be pretty final, but in my heart I believe that our relationship goes beyond our current situation, that he’ll break through any torture or mind manipulation or even spell to return to me. If I’m wrong, well, at least I tried.

  Before I disappear into the night, I take one last glance at my home away from home, fully aware that it might be the last time I see it.

  I remember the night Alaric snuck into my room. He was so confused as to how he got there, and I was so taken with him that I overlooked the underlying reason for his visit. His curse—for above all else, it is a curse—brought him to my room.