A Battle of Blood and Stone, Page 3

  Sarvel told me now that I know I have the power within me, I need to believe and trust in it to call it forth.

  She apparently handed me a crock of shit, but I’m still trying.

  Tonight, Rainey’s suggestion is to go smaller with my attempts. So far, I’ve been trying to do things like pull books off shelves with my mind, or create a glowing ball of light with willpower. Once, I even tried to make a mustache grow on Myles’ face, but I didn’t tell him what I was doing.

  But Rainey’s right. I need to start with something small and simple, and lighting a candle seems doable.

  I stare at the wick a moment, but I can see Rainey and Myles sitting at the end of the table in my peripheral vision and it’s slightly distracting. They’re here for support and being incredibly quiet, but it’s giving me performance anxiety.

  So, I close my eyes, merely imagining the candle in front of me. The way the label looks with a cute little pumpkin on it and the burnt end of the wick, as Rainey had used the candle already. I try to imagine what the wick would look like if it were to light itself spontaneously without any outside help, then I will myself to make it happen.

  For a second, I feel something stir within me—low in my belly—and I think I might have accomplished it. My eyes snap open, but the candle remains cold and dead.

  “Damn it,” I mutter, pushing back from the table, pissed I just mistook indigestion for brewing magic.

  “Want to try a spellbook?” Rainey suggests. She’s found several in English, but they are mostly potions, and I’m not interested in those. I need something more theoretical that doesn’t require ingredients.

  “No,” I mutter glumly as I cross my arms over my chest, slouching in the chair. I glance over at my friends. “What if this light inside of me doesn’t do much more than I can already do?”

  Because I’ve gotten good with a bubble shield, which is sparked more out of fear than anything else. And my abilities to see fae, read vibes if I so choose, and hear them from great distances is sharper than ever. But surely, that can’t be the extent of the gift.

  Rainey rises from her chair, leans over, and kisses Myles. She looks back at me. “I’m going to help Zaid finish dinner. I think we should just wrap it up for the evening.”

  I give her a curt nod, my mind already racing on to other things. Rainey heads up the spiral staircase, and Myles fiddles with a book in front of him. We always have stacks of books to go through. Whenever one of us sees something of interest, we bring it back and throw it down. Everyone pitches in and reads when we can.

  “Where’s Maddox?” Myles asks since Carrick’s brother hangs around more often than not these days.

  “Off getting laid,” I reply distractedly. But then, I add, “At least that’s what he said when he left a few hours ago. Hey… off to get laid. See you later.”

  Myles laughs at my mimicking of Maddox, which is quite good, but then sobers. “Shouldn’t he be sticking around to protect you or something? Or at least have Lucien here?”

  I shrug. Truthfully, Maddox doesn’t think anything bad is going to happen to me in the condo. He’s relying on the wards he, Carrick, and Lucien put in place to keep Kymaris and her minions out. “I don’t think Maddox feels like I need constant babysitting the way Carrick does.”

  “And Lucien?” Myles inquires.

  Another shrug. “I haven’t seen him since our last trip to Faere when he brought Stan over to help me through the veil. He sort of does his own thing until he’s affirmatively needed.”

  “You’re safe here,” Myles concludes. “The wards are enough.”

  “I agree. But also… I’m sort of just trusting fate.”

  He frowns, leaning forward to cross his arms on the table. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, if Kymaris were to come after me now instead, well… isn’t that how my fate is supposed to play out?

  “Not following,” Myles quips.

  “In other words, there’s no hiding from whatever is at the end of this path. I have to face it whether it’s Kymaris at the ritual or her jumping out at me in the grocery store’s produce section. Whenever we meet up is supposed to be when we meet up.”

  Myles tips his head left and right a little as if he’s weighing the merits of that. “Unless it’s one of her minions who gets you. Like that wraith the other night.”

  I shake my head emphatically. “Call me silly, but I don’t think I’m supposed to die that way. I think I was designated to stop this prophecy because I have this connection to Kymaris. It’s going to come down to something epic between us, and that’s not happening until the new moon.”

  Myles narrows his eyes. “That’s pure conjecture, and you know it.”

  “Gut instinct, more like it.” But then I decide to switch subjects on him, because again… I’m unsettled and feeling the need to make a difference. “I have an idea.”

  His gaze is wary as it comes to me.

  I smile, tipping my head. “I can try to reach out to Zora.”

  “Not only no,” he says emphatically, pushing back from the table as if he needs to get away from such an idea. “But hell no.”

  “Come on, Myles,” I whine, glancing briefly back at the staircase. “Rainey’s gone. She doesn’t need to know. And I can try for just a quick in and out.”

  “You promised Carrick you wouldn’t without him here,” Myles reminds me.

  “Well, he’s not here,” I snap irritably. “And there’s no telling if and when he’s coming back.”

  “It’s too dangerous.” Myles shakes his head, acting like he’s going to get up from the chair and leave if I insist on this foolishness.

  “Fine,” I mutter, holding my hand up in a gesture of capitulation.

  I want to reach out to my sister stuck down in the Underworld again. The last time didn’t go so well, and she zapped me with something akin to electricity. And yes, I did promise Carrick I wouldn’t try again unless he was around, but that’s not really what’s been holding me back.

  I could have tried many times since Carrick got snatched away, but the main reason I haven’t is that I don’t think I can do it. I’ve had zero luck in tapping into my powers since he’s been gone—other than my little bubble shield—and it’s safe to say my confidence has gotten pretty low.

  Not sure why I even suggested it right now with Myles. I’ll blame it on anger, disorientation, low self-esteem, and reckless energy. Carrick fucked me up good when he dropped his bombshell and then disappeared.

  And while I come off as completely blaming Carrick for this jumble of a mess I’ve become, truthfully, a good part of it is because I think I’m in love with him.

  Well, I’m fairly sure.

  Except, I don’t have the history and the memories Carrick does. My fall for him was short and quick, so I’m not sure I can trust it.

  Or do I trust it because that history made me inherently love him?

  As if I had no choice.

  The one thing that makes me think that we are truly fated to be together was that first time we had sex. The first time I had an orgasm with him, and there was a moment where a barrage of images of his face flashed before me, and they were all different expressions I had never seen on him before.

  I think, in my heart of hearts, those were actual memories surfacing through. All that snapping and clicking I felt, as if things were being put into place every time we come together, has to be a sign we are two halves of a whole.

  I hang onto those little scraps of hope because if I believe in them, then it means all of what he said is true. That we are true loves destined to survive through eternity.

  My throat clogs with emotion as my eyes get wet. This coming on the heels of Myles getting pissy with me about wanting to reach out to Zora. He had no idea my mind had gone places with absolutely nothing to do with my sister, and I don’t want to explain it.

  I give a little cough to clear my throat, leaning in toward him. Lowering my voice to a conspiratorial tone, I ask, “What�
��s the deal on you proposing to Rainey? Come up with any good ideas yet?”

  Just a few weeks ago, Myles had shown me the ring and wasn’t sure when the right time would be. He was afraid that while this life-and-death and save-the-world stuff was occurring, it might not be appropriate.

  I imparted what I believe to be sound advice. Given our world’s fragile nature, there couldn’t be a better time than now because we might not have tomorrow.

  I’ve asked Myles about it a few times but he’s blown me off stating he’s been busy at work and hasn’t had time to think about it.

  Once again, he shakes his head, and I can tell the subject makes him uncomfortable.

  “Myles,” I exclaim, leaning over and giving him a tiny punch on the shoulder. “What the hell, dude? You want to marry my bestie, and now you’re getting cold feet?”

  The scowl he gives me is so fierce that I pull back. “Of course I’m not getting cold feet.”

  “Then what is it?” I demand.

  “It’s not the right time,” he mutters.

  Oh, hell no. Not that again. “Haven’t we been through this? It’s the right time. Never a better time.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he replies snarkily. “I remember you saying that before. But that was different then.”

  My eyebrows draw in tight. “How?”

  “Because…” His voice trails off, and he doesn’t seem to want to finish.

  “Spit it out,” I demand. Because I know Rainey will say yes, so he sure as hell better not be having second thoughts.

  “Because I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” he exclaims in a rush of breath.

  I rear back. “My feelings?”

  His expression says he can’t believe I’d be that obtuse, but then he explains. “Your feelings because of finding out you and Carrick have loved each other for centuries upon centuries, and he’s been snatched away from you now. I know you’re in pain. Rainey knows it, too. It would be too insensitive to shove an engagement in your face right now.”

  I’m so stunned by this admission that my jaw drops open. My friend’s thoughtfulness utterly warms part of me, but the other part wants to smack him.

  “I’m fine,” I assure him.

  “You’re not,” he snaps. “You won’t talk about it to us, you’re moping around, and you look like the world has already ended for you.”

  I blink.

  Blink again.

  Do I really act that way?

  Yeah, I don’t talk about it. I mean, I told both Rainey and Myles the full story the day after Carrick was taken. Told them every detail I didn’t tell Zaid, because Zaid knew most of it from first-hand experience.

  But since then, I haven’t wanted to talk about it. I don’t want to keep slicing wounds open and letting them bleed for my friends.

  We have an earth to save.

  “Myles,” I say quietly, but with a tinge of firmness. “Yes, I’ve been through a lot, and, yes, I’m a bit of a mess when it comes to Carrick. But that does not mean I wouldn’t take complete joy in you proposing to Rainey. In fact, I’d say it’s exactly what I need. Some type of refreshing reminder that love is beautiful and still very much alive. Please, please… I’m begging you… do not hold off putting a ring on that woman’s finger because you think my feelings will be hurt. I assure you that will never happen.”

  His expression is dubious. “You’re not just saying that because you’re trying to be all brave and shit, are you?”

  “Of course I’m trying to be brave and shit,” I say in exasperation. “But I could also use something good and happy right now. So I suggest you get to thinking of something, okay?”

  Myles gives me the biggest grin I’ve ever seen on his face, and it truly lifts my spirits. “Feel like brainstorming with me now?”

  I snag one of the yellow legal pads and pens. “Let’s do it. I’ll take notes. You tell me your thoughts.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Carrick

  The plume of fire shot through a crack in the stone walkway, catching Carrick in the calf and blistering his skin raw. He ignored it as he continued his journey up the sloping path that reached a flat plateau. On one shoulder, he balanced a small boulder that weighed close to five hundred pounds. It was effortless weight, and, in ordinary circumstances, he could easily balance it, but with the flames shooting out at intermittent intervals, it required intense concentration, too.

  For every boulder he dropped, he’d receive twenty lashes at the end of the day.

  In all, nothing he couldn’t handle. The burns healed, as did the split skin from the whip.

  As did all the other torture devices Rune had been inventing to keep Carrick under his thumb and punished.

  Since Rune had snatched him off his patio in Seattle, Carrick had been living in what looked to be a replica of the Underworld, or, at least, the way Finley and Boral had described it. Carrick himself hadn’t been, never having had a reason to go in all his millennia of living.

  But he was fairly sure this wasn’t the actual Underworld, rather something that resembled it. It was cavernous and dim, light coming only from pits of fire pocketed in rocky crevices. It was hot and smelled like sulfur. Carrick suspected Rune created this place just to make Carrick uncomfortable, but really… it didn’t matter where he was.

  What mattered was where he was not, and that was with Finley.

  Carrick raged with fury every time he thought about the look on Finley’s face when she finally realized the truth about herself, then the horror when Rune snatched him away. In an overly dramatic fashion, Rune had actually thrown their bodies off the side of the building, knowing it would freak Finley out.

  And it did.

  Whenever he thought about the fear in her eyes as they disappeared over the edge, it made him grind his teeth so bad that they were in danger of wearing down to nothing. Of course, Rune merely bent distance as soon as they were in a free-fall and Carrick had ended up here.

  Because demi-gods are servants of the gods, they must do as they are bid. As easily as a demi-god had been created, he or she could be uncreated.

  Meaning, Carrick had no means to fight against Rune’s imprisonment or protest the hard labor Rune had him doing. For days, he’d been forced to move rocks and boulders from one part of the cavern to another for no apparent reason other than Rune wanted him to work continually.

  Carrick was up to the task, having incredible strength and power, but it was the futility of it that started to wear on him. He could take the backbreaking work, the burns from the fires, and the slices of the whip. He could handle any torture Rune thought to bestow upon him, and he could handle them for an eternity if he had to.

  What he was having a hard time handling was the maddening unknown of what was going on in the Earth realm with Finley. She was trying to stop a prophecy from fulfilling, and he had pledged to help her do it.

  Fuck, he had pledged to love her for eternity, then that asshole Rune took him away before she could even process it. Carrick knew how that beautiful mind worked, and he was sure she was pissed he was gone and feeling a bit lost at the same time.

  Another spray of fire shot out between a crack in the stone he walked over, this time catching his bare foot and causing him to hiss. Upon his arrival, Rune had divested Carrick of his clothing and only given him a loincloth to wear.

  Which was fine by him because it was an inferno in this place.

  Carrick readjusted the boulder slightly as he continued the slog uphill. When he reached the top, he squatted and let it fall from his shoulder to the ground. He took care with unburdening his load because he also got lashes if he broke a boulder.

  There was no clock by which to mark the passage of time. Carrick merely worked until he was told to stop. An ordinary day would have some hulking beast that looked like a man with fur all over him and a black executioner’s mask covering his face driving Carrick off the plateau where he had unloaded the boulders. He was pushed down into a small valley—no more than a lar
ge crevice among rock formations that was maybe a hundred feet wide, and then to a small cell carved into the cavern wall.

  Before being allowed to rest in his cell, Carrick had to receive whatever lashes he’d earned. Rune always made sure to appear so he could watch, usually lounging on a ridiculous-looking chaise with a table of food laden with all kinds of delicacies. If he thought that would torture Carrick, he was wrong. Food and luxuries were irrelevant in a place like this. Carrick had endured hardships far worse, and Rune knew it. All of his little displays of power were nothing more than a vain attempt to humiliate Carrick, which frankly, could not be done.

  The man-beast gave Carrick a hard shove between his shoulder blades toward a wooden St. Andrew’s cross where he’d eventually shackle Carrick to receive his lashes. Not that Carrick needed to be chained. He’d take his lashes only because he knew this was nothing more than a game to Rune. If he reacted or showed emotion, Rune would win.

  Carrick’s jailer shoved him again, harder this time. He wasn’t expecting it and stumbled slightly. When he righted himself, he was shoved again.

  For days upon days, Carrick had taken these little aggressions without so much as a backward glance. But the last shove broke something in him that he didn’t know was fragile. A rush of rage swept through him, and, without thought, he half-turned and backhanded the man-beast in the center of his chest.

  It was done with such force and full demi-god strength that the creature went flying twenty feet through the air where he landed with a thud on the hard-packed dirt. Carrick knew the creature was a Dark Fae and wasn’t hurt. This was evidenced by the fact it scrambled to its feet with a growl, but Carrick could see its eyes were wide with astonishment behind that mask. While Carrick knew it was fae, it had no clue what Carrick was.

  Turning to the cross, Carrick walked to it and waited for the jailer to come over and chain him. He noted he did so without any further abuses, making short work of it and retreating back a few feet. The fae now understood that the chains were for show anyway. Carrick could break them if he wanted.

  “How many lashes are we on for today?” Rune’s voice hit his ears, and he turned his head to see the god of Life had made his appearance.