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Born from the pits of Hell.
He’ll either wake up, or he won’t.
Dane’s words run through my head on a continuous loop.
How can a creature from the Otherworld—from the very depths of the pit itself—be so caring and brave and strong as Ky has proven to be? How can I have fallen for such a creature?
Shifters and witches—hellhounds and witches, even more so—are sworn enemies.
How has it come to this? I am lying here on a stranger’s bed, cradling in my arms the man I can’t bear to lose, plying him with the warmth of my body and my healing magic and praying that he will survive.
He’s a hellhound!
And yet, somehow, I’ve managed to fall for him.
I watch Ky’s chest rise and fall under the white sheet that covers him, and snuggle my cheek against his shoulder.
An idea is forming in my mind. A stupid, crazy idea, for sure. But I’m sick of waiting around, powerless, for the soul collector to find me. Threatening those I care about. Putting everyone in peril. Losing people along the way.
Burley. I send up a silent prayer. Thank you for your support of my family. I am sorry I brought you and your pack to this.
I stroke Ky’s jawline. Don’t let these bedsheets become his shroud.
A soft knock at the door startles me out of my reverie. I sit up, wiping a couple of stray tears that have slid, unbidden, down my face.
“Come in.”
The door creaks open. Amethyst’s face appears.
“Topaz.” The door opens wider, and she steps into the room. Her brow furrows and she crosses her arms. “Have you slept? Or eaten?”
“Yes,” I lie. “A little, earlier.”
Her face softens. “You know there’s nothing more we can do, right? Come downstairs for something to eat, and then come back and get some rest.”
Reluctantly, I slide out from under the covers and rise to my feet. Ky doesn’t stir as I move away. In the doorway, I turn back one last time.
Nothing.
If it wasn’t for that slow, shallow breathing, and those couple of brief awakenings earlier, I would assume he was dead.
I follow my cousin along the narrow hall and down the stairs. Before we reach the main living area, however, I grab her by the arm. Muffled voices drift through the closed door. I’ll get everyone up to speed eventually, but right now, I need to talk to my cousin. Alone.
She follows me into the small kitchen pantry, frowning when I close the door behind us. It’s a little too cozy; I barely have room to flick on the light switch, but it’ll have to do.
“What?” Her eyes dart over my face. “You look like you have something unpleasant to share.”
I release a wry chuckle, though the sound contains no humor. “You could say that.”
I can’t keep this to myself any longer. Still, now that the moment has arrived, I’m frozen. I just stand there, my gaze fixed on cans of kidney beans and lentils on the shelf behind Amethyst’s head.
“Well?” she demands.
“I never told you the full story of why Luthor’s coming for me.” I say it in a rush.
Amethyst stills. Something flickers behind her eyes, as if she’s processing the information.
I swallow. “Remember when I told you the Winter Court Fae solved my...err...my problem?”
Her eyes narrow. “Yes?”
“Well.” My voice gets shakier. With every word I speak, the reality of what happened grows. “I told you some of what happened. You know Luthor is after me. But I didn’t tell you everything.”
“Uh huh. Okay, then. Spill.”
I swallow hard. “The problem was... I died.”
“What?”
“Not... not fully.” I flinch at the expression of anguish that floods her face. I want to take back the words, shove them deep inside, but I push on. “I was supposed to die, I guess you could say.”
Amethyst shakes her head, dazed. “Oh, my God.”
“Yeah. As you know, the Winter Fae brought me back. Healed me.” I pause. “But... they used old magic to do it. I’ve never seen anything like it, Ammie. Not before or since. They saved me. And the act went against the natural order of things.”
“What do you mean, supposed to die?”
“It was a long time ago, when I was first experimenting with my blood magic. I didn’t know what I was doing, and I ended up not being able to stop the stream of magic. It burnt a hole in my chest. Leached everything from me—my blood, my energy, my very life...”
I shudder at the horrific memory. “Somehow, I accidently called forth a soul collector from the depths of Hell.”
“Fuck!”
My mouth drops open for a second. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard my cousin swear before today, and this make twice. I swallow down my shock and continue. If I don’t admit it all now, I never will.
“If the Winter Fae hadn’t interceded, my soul would’ve passed on to the Otherworld, courtesy of Luthor.”
I stare down at my feet, unable to meet Amethyst’s gaze. Afraid of the censure and blame I might read there. “King Rhodri—well, he was merely the Winter Court’s heir apparent, back then—happened to be in the area with his mother. She simply stood there and watched, with a smile on her face... but Rhodri ordered his warriors to carry me back to Faerie.”
“Why did you never tell me this part of the story?”
I do look at her now, but there’s no blame. Only shock, and fear.
Because telling someone would have made it real.
“Because I was afraid.” My voice is a whisper. “All that weird stuff was already happening in the Winter Court. I’m not sure why or how, but I think maybe Rhodri’s mother, Queen Rhiannon, might have had something to do with it.”
Ammie’s gaze narrows. “If that bitch had anything to do with what’s happening with us now, then we’re all fucked.”
“Ammie!”
“Well...” She shrugs, defiant. The thing is, she’s likely correct. The former Winter Queen caused destruction and death for many years, from her stronghold outside Faerie. It was only a few months ago that my friend—and shop customer—Inspector Maewen Jones, managed to kill her with the help of her banshee sisters.
“Maybe she did. Who knows? Rhiannon certainly loved chaos and destruction. Imbalance and imperfection. Everything that I tapped into that day. When I was there, in Faerie, there were whispers that they shouldn’t have used the old magic to help me... that they should have let me die. That the power transfer knocked something loose in the ether—something that isn’t covered by the Accord.”
Amethyst tips her head. “But the Accord Agreement covers all supernatural beings and magical creatures. All of us...”
I smile grimly. “Except the celestials. Angels and demons. Remember?” The skin on the back of my neck prickles. “Portals are opening up everywhere, Ammie. Maybe it’s not just about me anymore. Maybe I started it, through my foolishness. But if the Otherworld is rising...”
“Then we’re all in danger,” Amethyst whispers. “For real. Jesus, Topaz.”
“I’m sorry.” Misery threatens to pull me right under. “This is all on me.”
Amethyst drags me into a hug so tight that all the air squashes out of my lungs. “No. It isn’t. Maybe it started with a little spell experimentation by you, but we never had anyone to show us how to do it properly. I’m older than you—”
“By what? A couple of months?”
“Still. I’m the oldest. I should have helped you learn how to deal. Blood magic is more difficult to master, Tee, than dream walking, or scrying, or anything else Sapph and I can do. But I didn’t help you. I left you to figure it out alone. So, it’s as much on my shoulders as it is yours.”
“That’s beyond ridiculous. That’s worth another swear word. Fuck’s sake, Ammie. I mean... fuck’s sake.”
She gives me a little shake. “We can swear all we like, but the problem is much bigger than either of us, now. We’ll fix this. No matter what it takes, we’ll work it out.”
“How?” My time in the Winter Court was brief. For obvious reasons, I’ve tried hard not to think about it in the months and years that followed. Now, I force the unwanted memories up to the surface of my mind, trying to piece together the fragments of recollection. “What’s the first rule of magic?”
“Um...” She shakes her head, confused by my seeming change of topic. “Balance? Every piece of magic has a counterpoint. Energy given, and energy taken away. Like a set of scales.”
“Exactly.” The air in this tiny space feels too close, too hot. “My ‘death’ is an unresolved event, stopped by magic that should never have been wielded.”
“So, the soul collector—”
“Luthor.” I close my eyes. “He came for me, and stood on the side lines as the Fae kept him from taking my soul away.”
The memory is hazy. The burning wound in my chest. Choking, unable to breathe. Floating above my broken husk of a body as I lay on the floor of an enormous chamber. Golden light surrounded me. The Fae gathered around, staring down at my body and then up at me. I realized they still saw me—the real me; my essence. I remember they stood silent and watchful, forming a barrier around my unresponsive physical form while two of them worked their strange magic.
“I didn’t belong in their realm... but neither did he. He couldn’t cross the threshold, not fully. It bought them enough time to reconnect my soul to my body, and then they sent me back here to the human world.”
“So, maybe the key lies in Faerie?”
I smile at the hope in her voice. “Not exactly. I do have something in mind, Ammie. A plan, of sorts, but you’re not going to like it.”
She grips my arms. “Yes, we have a plan. We go to the Winter Court and ask the Fae for help to return things to how they were.”
“It’s not that simple and you know it. The soul collectors are no different from any other creature in that regard. They might be hideous demon monsters who revel in death and pain and destruction. But they crave balance as much as anyone else.” I gesture down at myself. I am exhausted and dirty; my clothes are rumpled and sand is stuck in my hair. “To them, I’m a walking contradiction. I should be dead, and I’m not. They’re not going to stop, Ammie. Not until they get what they want.”
Amethyst’s throat works. “A soul for a soul.”
“Exactly.” I stay silent for a long moment. “I die, or someone from my blood line does. Either way, they’re determined to take what is due. And if we anger them too much, then they won’t care. They’ll try to take us all.”
I push open the door of the tiny pantry and step back out into the hall. “But I am equally determined not to let that happen.”
