I should be there trying to protect Piper, but here I lay, useless, scared, and sick to my stomach. Stavros’s threats looped in my head.
Ember’s pointed look to me, the unsaid I will get your daughter, only ebbed my fear a smidge. But nothing took away the sensation I’d failed Piper. Again.
Pulse.
“And another bloody reason why I can’t sleep.” My hand grazed my stomach. “Carrying your arse around.”
Pulse.
The warmth of him spread farther across my abdomen. I didn’t want to admit out loud that the weight of him had tripled, fatiguing my muscles and mind. The longer I held his soul, the faster mine suffocated under his power. I was dying. And if my body failed, he would die too.
Pushing myself up, I stared at the outline of the object in the corner. The cauldron sat there, taunting me. Sliding down the bed, I crawled to it, running my fingers over the lip. “Please,” I whispered. “Tell me how to bring you back.”
The power of two Cathbads didn’t bring it back to life, but I still couldn’t give up on the idea. There had to be a way. It was part of me. It came from my family’s magic. Our blood.
Shite.
Blood.
Was it possible? “It would be something like that, wouldn’t it?” I spoke to the treasure. “Druids and the gods are that twisted.”
One of the most powerful forms of magic was a blood ritual. I should know; I had done one recently. With Lars.
Technically he was still with me.
I pressed my fingers into my gut. “You ready for another round, demon?”
Pulse. Pulse. Pulse.
Each felt like a jab of anger. No. I could practically taste his refusal. Don’t even think about it, Druid. You barely survived last time.
“That’s going to happen anyway.” I shrugged, holding on to my last thread of hope. “I’d rather try. We did it once and it worked. This time we’re not searching for the cauldron, we’re bringing it back to life.”
Pulsepulsepulsepulse.
“Feck off, demon. You owe me this. You destroyed it to save me…now I must bring it back to life to save you. Only fair.” Fury burned through my stomach, rising up my throat.
“Stop being an arse,” I muttered, not fazed in the least at his fury or that I was pretty much talking to myself. Picking my heavy bones off the floor, I went to my boot and pulled out the dagger I never returned to Travil. It was mine now. It chose me, holding too much energy and memory from my sacrifices to ever be held by another. It had been there for the first blood ritual and would be even more powerful for this one, already carrying my blood and Lars’s within its metal.
The pulses turned to stabs, but I ignored his tantrum, knowing I would get my way. He needed to throw his alpha-king authority around for a bit before realizing who he was dealing with. Someone who equaled him and would not bow down.
There were no candles, but I had chalk in my bag. Every Druid carried chalk. You never knew when you needed to do a blood ritual at the drop of a hat. Shoving back the rug, I drew a circle on the wood floor, not closing it completely. Slipping out of my underwear and tank, I picked up the cauldron and stepped into the ring. Lars’s demon still prowled heavily inside me, stomping around, holding on to the fringes of his objection.
“Lars. Focus. I need you. I need you to hold on to me,” I practically whispered, sitting down. I placed the cauldron next to me. The anger vanished, his presence expanding inside me. We both understood that “me” meant my soul. It almost drifted away last time, the ritual too powerful for it to hold on to my physical form. He saved me. Brought me back.
This time he was in his purest form, powerful and strong, but I had no clue if this would even work without his physical body here. Never in a thousand years did I think I would be doing another blood ritual. I tried to shut out the dread I felt knowing what I was getting into.
“Here we go.” I exhaled, shaking out my arms and legs, letting go of all my thoughts. Closing the circle, I lay down and shut my eyes. Meditation cut off the world outside the circle, and the spell hummed from my lips. The handle of the knife warmed in my hand. The blade sliced over one wrist. With a hiss, I cut at the other. Stinging pain folded over my chant, weighing down my throat. Pushing through, I carved quickly at the tops of my thighs, a small cry filling the gaps between my words. Don’t stop, Fionna. You can do this.
Lifting my free hand, I dipped in the pooling blood, painting symbols over my skin, then duplicating them onto the cauldron’s surface as I continued to chant and slice wounds into myself.
Shite. This was a lot harder to do to by yourself.
My head began to spin, my lids struggling to stay open, the pain throbbing over my body. Hissing out more of the spell, I felt the magic barrel down on me, pinning me back into the floorboards. A scream broke from my mouth as the pressure slammed me down, stealing my air and mindfulness.
The knife dropped from my hand, fresh agony tearing through me. This time the pain pulsed between my thighs. Every touch only flamed the fire under my skin, burning me from the inside out. Tears flooded down my face; whimpers and cries came out the same way a wounded animal sounds.
I gripped the cauldron, pouring my life essence into it. Slipping further and further away from consciousness, sexual need filled its place. Make it stop. Please! Instead, the aching increased, forcing another cry from my lips, my bones cracking as I gripped the cauldron.
Please. Please. Please. Someone, make it stop.
Suddenly I felt the sensation of hands slipping over my skin. Inside my mind I saw him. Black demon eyes, hungry and devouring, hovered over me. A mischievous smile curved on the demon’s mouth as he brought it down to my body, his tongue licking at my breasts, his sharp teeth nibbling my nipples.
The gods could never simply let you suffer with one kind of pain. They were horny shites who loved to flood sexual agony into every cell as well. To the point you wished for death or to be screwed until the pain ebbed. Most of these rituals ended in orgies. I no longer judged those still practicing the old ways. If anything, I was now an advocate.
“Lars,” a whispered whimper sliced upon my tongue.
He showed me his full demon, his presence taking up every molecule of space in my head and underneath my skin. His form grunted, dragging his mouth and body over my scorching skin.
“Lars,” I cried out his name again, his touch flooding me with pleasure. More tears slithered over my face as the heartache of missing him rocked me.
“I’m here, Druid.” His hands and mouth moved over my stomach, my neck curling back into the floor. The pleasure of his touch, of feeling the weight of him on me, was so intense I gasped for air. “Conclude your incantation; I am here to take care of everything else.” It was like I could feel him take one hand, placing it on the treasure.
The spell sobbed from my chest, the pain of desire cooking me alive. My legs spread, begging for him to fill me. To end this agony. He bit my inner thighs, skating his tongue between my folds.
Anguish.
Torment.
The moment I finished the spell, commanding life into the cauldron, knives daggered my skin like the teeth of the strighoul. My body bucked as though possessed, trying to get away from the unrelenting pain.
“Lars! Please...” I wailed, my free hand burrowing into the floorboards. “End this…please… hurts…so much.”
“Stay with me, Druid.” He gripped me. “Don’t leave me. Fight it, Fionna.”
What the hell was he talking about? I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Fuck me,” I begged.
“Will that keep you here with me?”
“Yes! Yes…just do it! Please!”
“I am at your will.” He smirked, sliding up my body. My skin was unblemished and clear of blood, nothing surrounded us but shadows, which grew darker, reaching for me. A string of consciousness told me I was no longer in my physical body, but the anguish kept any thoughts really reaching my brain. It was only need. Desire.
Pure bliss.
The pain eased as euphoria took over, our grunts growing louder and more primal.
“Fuck, I’ve missed you, Druid.” He hissed, slamming into me so hard I skidded deeper into the blackness. “No!” he bellowed, rocking even more reverently. “Do not let go. Do not leave me. You are strong. Fight, Fionna! Fight for Piper.”
Why was he yelling at me?
Why was I so tired?
“Promise me.” He poured more of himself into me. As I parted my lips, my muscles locked in pleasure. My body spasmed, clutching around him. “Promise!”
“I promise!” I screamed, blackness curled around me, creeping in like mist, making it harder to even see or feel him.
“Now, Druid,” he demanded. “Fucking come for me.”
I let his command take over my mind and body, moaning with relief as the pain drained from me, euphoria stealing my vision. I no longer felt attached to anything. Only pleasure, warmth, and serenity blanketed me. Darkness. Peace.
“No. Fionna!” Lars’s voice sounded distant.
Then I heard a scream, one that sent chills along my spine. A banshee call. The sound of death.
Through the murk I heard my daughter’s voice calling me. Then Lars shouted into my soul, pulling me back with the fear in his voice.
But it was so quiet here. Peaceful and calm.
Don’t you give up on me. Or your daughter, Lars growled, the sound curling around my body. Wake up. Now.
Piper. Lars. Kennedy. Marguerite. Nic... my family—their faces filled my mind. I never had much family; how strange to have so many needing me.
“Fionna?” A voice I didn’t recognize slashed into the peaceful void. “Oh my god! Get help! Fionna? Fionna, wake up!”
People were so fecking demanding today. Couldn’t I rest for a little longer?
You’re dying, Fionna. Get your ass up and fight, an inner voice whispered. Shite. I was. I could feel my soul slipping away.
Images of my little girl, her smile, and laugh flooded me. I recalled Lars dropping the King façade and really looking at me, the feel of his touch on my skin. I could picture the three of us curled on a sofa, watching a movie, like a real family.
I gave a deep grunt as I pushed forward, swimming back to life. To the ones I loved.
Bolting up, I hissed in a gulp of air, my lids ripping open only to flinch back at the light in the room. My head spun and every muscle shook, my naked body still drenched with blood, the cauldron tipped over a few feet away from me painted with my sacrifice.
With the back of my hand I wiped away blood on my lashes as I looked over to the person squatting next to me. It took a few beats for me to recognize her.
Flawless caramel skin and dark curly hair. Dressed in tiny pajama shorts and a tank, Lexi’s mouth moved frantically, her expression anxious, but I didn’t comprehend anything coming out of her mouth, my brain slow to catch up. The sexy pirate, Croygen, with dark eyes, his ripped, lean abs on display, leaned over, staring at me with curiosity. What the hell was going on?
I shook my head, clearing away the fuzz in my mind.
“Are you okay?” Lexie peered down my body, taking in the cuts and symbols shrouding my skin, then to the blood-covered black pot. Croygen stood beside her, staring at me.
“What the hell were you doing?” he said. “I’ve seen some twisted shit in Asia, but you, Druid, might take the prize.”
Lexie peered over her shoulder at him, then back at me, gazing at my naked skin with a frown. “Why don’t I get you something to cover up.” She grabbed the shirt I left outside the ring, handing it to me.
“What are you doing here?” I pulled it on and tried to stand up, my legs wobbling underneath me. Lexie reached for me, her mechanical legs clicking with the movement of her rising.
“What are we doing?” Croygen snorted, waving down at me. “My room is next door. We heard screaming and moans as if either someone was having sex or was being murdered…we took a chance on the last one after you screamed like the dead.”
Dead…
I spun around to the cauldron, the motion making me nauseous. Kneeling again, I placed my hands on it. Nerves thumped my heart loudly, and I took a deep breath to relax.
“What are you doing?” Lexie asked.
“Shhh,” I snapped. My energy was practically nonexistent, but I pushed away all distracting thoughts and focused what little strength I had left onto the vessel, tuning out the others.
Was that a beat I felt? I placed my palms on the vessel. For several moments I stayed quiet, feeling nothing. It was just my own heart thumping in my chest, working hard to fill my veins and heal me.
“Shite!” I bent over as a frustrated, heartbroken sob surged through my chest. I’d given it everything. My magic, my blood, practically my life…and it still wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t enough. It wanted all of me. My life. To fulfill the prophecy and claim me like it was supposed to. I tried to run from fate, and it had still found me.
My forehead hit the edge of the vessel, another soft cry leaking from me. Piper. Lars. Kennedy… I would do it for them. If that’s what it took to protect the ones I loved. Uncle Isaac had been right—my death was already foreseen. I had changed the script a little, but not the outcome.
Ignoring the people behind me, I started to cry. The enormity of this loss stripped me of any pride or barriers I’d been holding up. I would not get to see my daughter grow up, or see those important moments in her life, or truly have the chance to be her mum. I probably would never see Lars again, not in his body. My sacrifice would have to wait until we were face to face with the stone, Lars’s body ready to be taken back, but I would die before I got to feel his touch one last time, the cauldron needing all my power to take on the Stone of Fáil.
“Fionna?” A hand touched my shoulder. Lexie’s fingers squeezed my muscles. I dropped the cauldron, wanting to toss it out the window into the lake. I hated it. I hated having no choice; it went against everything I was. I bucked against authority, challenged it, and designed my own future.
But I couldn’t fight this. Wiping away the tears, I stared at the drying blood on my arms and hands.
Sudden shouts echoed through the hall, twisting my head around. Croygen and Lexie both turned, the sound of feet pounding toward us.
“What the hell is going on?” Croygen’s eyebrows furrowed, and he took a step to the door. Torin, Castien, and a few other guards I recognized but didn’t recall their names, passed my open doorway. Torin peered into my room, his eyes landing on the pirate. He stopped short.
“He’s here!” Torin twisted, blocking the doorway. “Seize him.” Castien and two other men pushed past, circling Croygen.
“Me?” Croygen took a step back, but the soldiers surrounded him, their weapons drawn.
“What is going on? What are you doing?” Lexie yelled, her eyes wide with confusion. “Stop! He didn’t do anything. Why are you arresting him?”
“By declaration of the Queen, we are taking him for questioning.”
“Why?” Croygen bewilderment rode over his features.
“Treason.”
“What?” Lexie screeched.
My mouth dropped open as I slowly pushed myself to standing, my gaze bouncing between Torin and Croygen.
“Treason?” Croygen shook his head. “Are you kidding me? I haven’t done a fucking thing.”
“That is not for me to decide.” Torin eyes finally drifted over to me, his eyes widening. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
“Oh.” I looked down at my body, realizing what th
is might look like. “No—”
My explanation was not fast enough, for Torin jerked his head to the door with severity. “Move now, pirate.”
“Wait! No…he didn’t…” My words fell flat as the group rushed out my door, shoving Croygen with them.
“Torin. No!” My bare feet stumbled forward, my legs quivering severely under my weight. Lexie screamed his innocence, trailing after the troops. Forgetting I was caked with drying blood, I scampered after them as well, my legs wanting to give out with each step.
Croygen peered over his shoulder as they hurried him down the hallway, his gaze catching Lexie’s, something intimate transpiring between them. Something deep and profound.
Ready to defend Croygen of any wrongdoing on my behalf at least, I matched my steps close behind Lexie. I couldn’t believe he would deceive us. If he did, wouldn’t that be betraying Zoey, Ryker, and Lexie as well? And the way Croygen looked at Lexie told me he would never hurt her.
We entered the throne room, and I jerked back in shock. The room was filled with people.
Croygen was shoved up to the front to Kennedy, who sat on the raised throne. As long as I had been around, she barely used this room, and not when speaking to us. She was doing this on purpose. Showing her authority.
What the hell happened in the few hours since I last saw her?
I stepped up to Lexie, not looking at her, but letting her know I was there.
“Let him go.” Kennedy nodded at Castien. “I don’t think he will flee. You can get back to your post.”
“What the hell is going on?” Croygen ripped his arms out of the soldier’s hold. “Why am I here?”
“Croygen.” Kennedy addressed him. Her voice was strong, but her eyes were softer than her tone. “I apologize if you are innocent in this, but right now I can’t be too careful. Too many lives are at stake.”
“What is this about?” He looked around the room, trying to find some explanation.
“Your friends.” Kennedy waved her had toward the window, the docks far below. “Betrayed us. Lied to us. They came here under my protection and told us Stavros’s ships were three days out. When in truth, they are here now.”
Rise From the Embers (Lightness Saga #4) Page 27
