The Goddess Chronicles Books 4-6: Urban Fantasy

by KB Anne

  Caer appreciated that Scott explained what “wonky” meant.

  “So what should we do? Should we go into our own seomra de rúin to find out what’s going on? Do we travel through a portal in case Balor arrives on the mainland of your realm? Do we take possession of the castle? What action do we take?”

  “I don’t know.” He collapsed to the ground. The earth vibrated through her.

  “Wait,” he said, pushing himself up. “We could meditate. We might be able to find out answers then.”

  “Meditate?” she whispered. The last time she had mediated with Scott and Gallean, she had fantasized about Scott as a warrior and all the things he could do with her body. She really didn’t want to reignite the fire she had recently done a fairly good job of dousing. “No, there has to be another way.”

  “Caer,” he said, reaching for the hand that held Freagarach before she had a chance to pull it away. He returned the sword to its scabbard. “It’s our best chance of figuring out what we should do next.”

  “But . . .”

  She tried to pull away from him, but he held her firmly.

  “I’ll be right with you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  She swallowed, trying hard not to stare at his lips and trying even harder not to lick hers. She hoped that he was right, and she hoped even more that she could keep her hands off of him in their meditative state. After all, she had a kingdom to rule, a Fomorian monster to kill, and her people to protect. She couldn’t let the vibrations of desire that rippled through her body take control. She was stronger than that. Was she not?

  19

  Queen of Swords

  The crystal throne sparkled before her, tempting her, taunting her to take her rightful place as Queen of the Faerie Realm. She had never dreamt of ruling a kingdom. After Balor had sliced her father’s throat in front of her, she had run. Through the many years since his death, running had ruled her. She had run from the monster who killed her father for fear of getting her own throat slit. She had run from the village children in the marketplace when they thought her a monster after she surfaced from the river. She had run from the Lovers card Mathair Mhór had pulled the night of her death. She had run from the pain of losing the one woman who had taken her in and cared for her as if she were her own flesh and blood. She had run from Gallean’s keep in anger when he cast her away. She’d been running from her own monster her entire life. It was only when she had returned to her father’s kingdom at Lake of the Dragon Mouth that she embraced her inner monster, her swan.

  Now the crystal throne called to her. The ancient faerie music of the harp sang to her, vibrating in her bones, in her soul. It knew she was close and wanted her to reclaim it. To place the crown upon her head and take her seat as Queen of the Lake of the Dragon Mouth Kingdom.

  The thrill of anticipation rushed through her. The throne was almost hers. A part of her believed if she could just sit upon it, she’d discover the means to defeat Balor. The iron spear was the tool she’d use to take him down, but she did not know the method. How was she to get close enough to pierce his open eye without turning to stone herself?

  Gallean had given his life to protect her. She must discover the means by which to kill Balor before warring against him in battle and endangering the lives of all those who would stand by her side. She must find a way to destabilize his power, if only for a heartbeat, before she launched the spear into his eye.

  Legends suggested a man would kill Balor. The old legends were wrong. A man would purely send Balor along with the rest of the Fomorians to a black purgatory in the Otherworld for all his evils, but that location was not his permanent destination. Balor’s true fate fell to a woman’s hand, to Caer’s, and she would fill the promise brilliantly. The only question was, how?

  She stalked in front of the crystal throne. Even during her periods of reflection, she couldn’t bring herself to sit upon her father’s throne. Perhaps she’d wait until she was rid of Balor for good. But when would that be? She did not know. She had so many questions and so few answers.

  Patience child, Mathair Mhór thrummed through her mind.

  The surprise of hearing the old woman’s voice almost broke her out of the meditation. Mathair Mhór had never communicated with her during all her time of solitude in the cave. Not even when she was at her weakest physically and emotionally from lack of food and companionship did the old woman’s spirit visit, but now, with Scott and her people nearby, Mathair Mhór appeared.

  Why now? Why when the crystal throne tempted Caer to claim her title? Why couldn’t the old woman have come when she was starving? Almost dying from eating the rotten rabbit? Why hadn’t she come then to help heal her? Why now?

  Your throne can wait. Your people will safeguard it. You are needed elsewhere.

  Where else was more important than taking her throne and killing Balor? It was her destiny. Mathair Mhór herself had told her that.

  Your destiny is entwined with your Lover’s, and he is needed elsewhere.

  Fire ignited before him. His sister was in great danger. The meditation brought that sense of warning rushing to the surface. So immediate, it burned his skin.

  He kicked and pulled at the fog, trying to reach the surface and break out of the meditation. The fog kept pushing him down, fighting to keep him under. Gigi needed him, but even more than that, he felt the world needed him. Like soon they’d be under attack, and there’d be nothing left of the Earthly Realm but a broken, burnt-out shell.

  He thrashed. He kicked. He’d break out of this fog if it was the last thing he ever did. He roared in frustration. It was enough to bring him out of the fog.

  His eyes snapped open. He needed to get to Gigi now.

  Caer lay beside him, her eyes pulsing beneath her lids as she journeyed through her own meditation. She looked so peaceful in her stillness. He didn’t want to abruptly awaken her, but Gigi’s life was at stake, and Caer was the only one who could send him back to the Earthly Realm. He loathed having to leave her alone in the Faerie Realm with the possibility that Balor could appear at any moment, but she had her people, and they had their magic now. They could protect her. They had proven lethal and ferocious even without their magic, and now, fully restored to their former selves, they could guard.

  Scott would come back to Caer once every threat to Gigi was eliminated. He had killed many at the Battle of the Land of Shadows. He would strike down anyone who dared to harm his sister.

  “Caer,” he said, gently shaking her. “Caer, wake up.”

  She slowly blinked her eyes open. She must have gone very deep into the meditation.

  “Caer, I need your help.”

  She tensed. “What is it?”

  “Gigi is under attack, and I need to protect her.”

  She leapt to her feet in an athletic move that would make Olympic gymnasts envious. She was a power to behold.

  “Well, let’s go.”

  “No,” he said, slowly approaching her. She had a tendency to swing her sword around whenever the mood hit her, and the mood struck her often. “You need to stay. You need to be with your people. To . . . protect them.”

  Surprise flashed across her features until the fierce warrior returned. “You’re leaving me?”

  Oh gods, she was beautiful.

  He sensed the sadness in her and the taste of betrayal.

  “I will return. I just need to protect Gigi, and then I’ll return to you.”

  “How? How will you return?”

  “I’ll have Gigi make a portal?”

  “You told me that all magic is wonky right now, and her portal creation is already not as consistent as mine.”

  What she said was true, but he’d do everything in his power to get back to her.

  “I will come back to you. I promise. I will not leave you alone and unprotected from Balor, but I need to hurry. Will you make me one? Please?”

  Her eyes softened. She warred with herself. She set her jaw. “No, I’m going with you
. Two warriors are better than one.”

  Caer, above all else, was a warrior. He would be hard-pressed to find her equal, but he couldn’t ask her to leave her kingdom to help his sister so quickly after arriving.

  “What about your people?”

  “Keturah,” she called over her shoulder.

  Keturah rushed over, bowing before her. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “You are in change until I return.”

  With her head still bent, she said, “It would be my greatest honor.”

  “Keturah,” Caer whispered, “you don’t need to bow or kneel before me.”

  Keturah lifted her chin. “It is an honor we bestow upon our leader, and you are our Queen.”

  “Thank you,” she nodded before turning back to him. “Let’s go.”

  “Wait, take this,” Keturah said, handing her the iron spear, which had lain by her side during her meditation. “Just in case you need it.”

  Caer took the spear and raised her sword, preparing to slice open a portal.

  “Wait,” Keturah shouted. “Take this too,” she said, handing her a small mirror. “Call for me through this. We will come to your aid.”

  Scott didn’t know how Keturah and the rest of them could travel to the Earthly Realm without a portal. Maybe they’d fly there? But he didn’t have time to stick around and ask questions. He had a sister to save.

  “Let’s do this,” Caer said, swinging Freagarach in a wide arc to rip open the portal. She took his hand in hers, and they leapt through.

  20

  Can You Clone Me Now?

  Alaric and I gasp for breath as we sit up. Suffocating heat stifles any chance of getting oxygen into our lungs, and by the gods we need oxygen after nearly drowning again as we got yanked through limbo a second time.

  But evidently breathing would have to wait because our arrival back in the Earthly Realm is marked by fire. Outside the chalk circle, flames devour Clarissa’s living room. The curtains, the sofa, the rug, the books—all of it.

  “What the fuck’s happening?” I scream.

  But no one answers, which, given the height of the flames and the efforts Anna, Sam, and the rest of the coven members are putting into dousing the fire, makes sense. Then I remember no one can hear us outside the circle, which normally wouldn’t be an issue, but since they’re all involved in firefighting, no one can break the circle for us either. We’re bound in until the chalk line is broken.

  Anna uses a wool blanket to stop the fire from reaching Clarissa’s slumped-over frame. Sam wields the world’s largest fire extinguisher and shoots it at the curtains as the flames curl up to the ceiling. A few other coven members are taking similar actions to no effect. Nothing will stop the fire.

  “It’s not natural,” I say to myself.

  “Can you stop it? Gigi, you have to stop it.” Alaric tries to get out of the circle, but he can’t pass the chalk line. Magic is still keeping us locked within.

  But here’s the thing: I am a fucking reincarnated goddess. If I can’t break a thin line of chalk, the worlds are in big trouble.

  I chant as I throw out my hands. Energy explodes out of them, breaks the chalk line, and skims the fire. I fold my fingers into my palms and the flames get sucked into them like a vacuum.

  My chest heaves from the effort, but there’s no time to recover. Ash chunks start falling to the floor. The walls sway back and forth, creaking and moaning. The place is going to collapse any second.

  I scan the room for Clarissa and Granda. Clarissa’s still slumped over in her rocking chair. Anna’s trying to do a healing spell, but she doesn’t know what I know. Clarissa and Gallean’s lifelines were linked, and now that he’s dead, her death is inevitable. Tears prick my eyes. I blink them away. There’s no time for emotional breakdowns. Not when we’ve got to get everyone out before they’re crushed to death.

  I haven’t found Granda yet. Panic grips me. Where is he? My eyes search the room frantically. In the far corner, I see Maddie’s giant frame bent over someone.

  “Granda!”

  “Here, child,” he says weakly from behind one of my new favorite people.

  Maddie helps him off the floor. “I got him.”

  Granda’s life-force is severely weakened. The old man’s not going to die if I have anything to say about it.

  “Maddie, what the fuck happened?”

  He shakes his head. He doesn’t know any more than the rest of them, and Granda is in no condition to speak. Besides, we don’t have time for a hug-it-out session right now, and I have a feeling I know who’s behind this anyway.

  “Take him outside,” I order him.

  He hesitates at the door. “Do you think it’s safe?”

  Gallean taught me many things in the Shadow Realm, and now I wield power befitting a goddess. I throw a protective shield over the entire property.

  “It is now.”

  Maddie quickly takes Granda outside. Sam follows closely behind, whispering a strong healing spell. Good. Granda needs all the healing he can get. He’s in capable hands until I can get to him.

  The floor shakes, and another chunk of the ceiling falls. Any minute now the entire house will collapse.

  Anna’s still tending to Clarissa.

  “Alaric, help Anna get Clarissa outside. It isn’t safe in here.”

  “I’m not leaving you,” he says, picking up Clarissa’s still frame.

  “Go.”

  He hesitates.

  “Now.” I throw an energy ball at him that pushes them out the door.

  “The rest of you, leave now,” I roar as I rip some of Clarissa’s spell books off the shelf, grab a bowl of crystals, and head for the door. I take one last glance around to make sure I’ve grabbed everything I need.

  Clarissa’s spirit floats above the floor. She hands me her athame. Protect them.

  “Always.”

  She nods, fading away to nothingness.

  I step over the threshold as the roof collapses.

  I turn around and stare at the remainder of the coven. Most are sitting on the ground, coughing, trying to catch their breath. But breathing doesn’t matter, not if Breas and Fomorian Witch Kensey are somewhere nearby preparing to kill us.

  I send my mind outside the shield. Faintly, I sense their slippery, gloating presence.

  Got you, Witch Kensey says, scraping against my mind.

  She just can’t resist signaling her presence, along with the arrival of more of her minions. Thankfully the element of surprise is beyond her grasp.

  “It was a trap,” I say to no one in particular. “Incendio,” I shout, throwing up a ring of fire to protect us from the encroaching enemy, because my boundary spell may not be strong enough to keep them out.

  “Gigi, how do we get away now? We’ve no place to go,” Anna cries, shielding Clarissa’s body from the flames.

  I bend down and touch her shoulder. Her brown eyes are wary. I may be a reincarnated goddess, but she doesn’t trust me entirely. Not after I’ve caused so much destruction and death. “Anna, Clarissa is no longer with us. Her life-force was tied to the great wizard, Gallean. He died at the hands of Balor.”

  “The Fomorian of legend? The one who turns people to stone?” she cries, her voice tinged with wonder and disbelief that the legend of Balor is real.

  “Yes, sadly.”

  She begins to shake in panic.

  I grip her shoulder and push soothing magic into her. “But we still have work to do. Amorin needs you. I need you.”

  Her eyes focus on mine. I didn’t mean to word-spell her, but I think I might have.

  “You take care of Amorin,” I say. “I’ll take care of everything else.”

  She nods, says a few words to Clarissa’s body, and crawls over to Granda.

  Alaric touches my arm. “You’re not taking care of everything on your own.”

  My heart fills with warmth. Resolve blooms within me, as does my authority. Protecting my people is what I was born to do.

 
“You guard everyone within the circle.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to see if my magic can disable a Fomorian witch who’s inhabiting my high school nemesis, along with a god who thinks he’s my husband.”

  Alaric growls. His protective side rages next to me. Evidently he really dislikes anyone else trying to claim me. His emotion makes my magic more powerful.

  “And if you can’t?”

  Maddie hurries over. His heightened werewolf senses allow him to hear over the din of the flames. “You know you can’t hurt another living thing. Clarissa and Amorin both told you that.” The fear in his eyes is unmistakable.

  “Then I’ll open a portal and we’ll disappear. We can go to Scott and Caer.”

  Alaric pulls me to him. “No, that will lead everyone to that realm. They could destroy all of us in one swift move. Besides, it’s not their realm the Fomorian’s want, it’s this one.”

  Tick tock, Witch Kensey hisses.

  Anger fills me. They will not win. Not today. Not ever.

  “You’ve got that right, sis,” Scott says, appearing beside me.

  “My sword thirsts for blood,” Caer says, crouching into a fighting position.

  “You are one scary-ass bitch, you know that?”

  “Thank you,” she says. Her Fae canines flash. “I know.”

  With Caer and Scott by my side, my powers magnify, buzzing through me at a chaotic speed.

  “Do you feel that?”

  “It’s the joining of the trí cumhacht,” Caer whispers, closing her eyes to absorb it.

  “Wow,” Scott says. “This takes power trip to a whole new level.”

  Together, the three of us could take on Breas, Witch Kensey, and the rest of the mindless swarms now surrounding the wall of fire.