Johnny. And now Menessos.
Seven was right. There was no romance in war.
I accept the good and the bad.
I staked Menessos.
I didn’t look away from his eyes, even to see his crimson life leaking away. The drops splattered warm across my hand, and spilled down his chest in a gush that should not have been possible. I felt the life leaving him, fleeing him almost as if his heart had seized up, forcing all his blood out at once to make a quick end. He made no sound. He drew no breath, let none escape. But his set jaw slackened.
I knew a choking thick darkness was swallowing him.
His knees gave. But his gray eyes never left mine.
All the threads that held us were taut; stretching, threatening to snap. I felt the cords grow thin, frayed with his dying. The friction of my will against this inevitable death grew white hot. All at once it snapped.
My hands shot out, fisting in his shirt, clutching his body. I went down on my knees, too . . . and still he was slowly slumping away from me. I pulled him back into my arms. I will not let go. His head fell forward to rest on my shoulder. Clinging to him, I wept.
I will not let go.
Wiping my hand across my face, my tears mixed with the blood on my fingertips. I drew the five-pointed star on his forehead. A witch’s symbol. “You are mine.”
Even with my lids shut tight, I could not dam the flow of more tears.
“Element of Earth! I call you to my circle.” My voice cracked and I choked. “Element of Air! I call you to my circle. Element of Fire! I call you to my circle. Element of Water! I call you to my circle.” My words were bitter, mumbled sobs, as I gave in to the grief and cradled Menessos to me.
Such a long, long life, and so devastating that it should end this way, over fairies he had only sought in desperation to find the end of his curse. A curse that made him all he now was. I was bringing to fruition the ending Ezreniel intended from the start.
Eyes still shut—I could not look at him—I raised my head high and cried out, “Goddess! Hear me!” My voice was clear and defiant.
This guarantee, sealed by me,
by your blood and by my tears.
This guarantee, sealed by me,
the promise of many more years!
I yanked the wand from his chest. On my end of our severed bond, frayed edges became taloned claws. Mine. The claws surged into the receding dark, grasping for the threads. Mine. I willed more strength down the line, to coil about the cords and refasten them, stronger than before. Mine!
And my second hex filled Menessos.
“As I will, so mote it be!” I whispered.
A quartet of odd sounds answered. My eyelids parted a crack. Blinking away tears, I peered around me. A tremulous sigh escaped as I assured myself what I was seeing was real.
Around my circle, what remained of the elementals stood poised and regal, watching me. They had come at my call, stood at my circle.
The unicorn nickered, bowed, then craned his graceful neck toward the shore as if to say, Can we finish this now?
The gateway!
Slipping from under Menessos’s body, I assured myself that Mountain had Johnny. The big man was on his knees still, dragging the inert body of the Domn Lup farther onshore. He gave no indication that Johnny was alive. With all that was going on, all I’d just done, my senses and emotions were overloaded. I did not dare try using our bond to confirm my fears. I had to finish this.Someone was running down the shoreline from the lighthouse. Kirk.
I tore off my blazer and hoodie, covering Menessos against the rising sun.
Vilna-Daluca and a handful of other witches continued to battle Fax Torris.
The bonds were broken. The fairy was free and she had to know it. Still, she made no effort to fly away, no attempt to flee. She wanted to fight.
Vilna-Daluca had said they could handle this, but at what cost? Even as I watched, that beam claimed another witch’s life.
Let her take her madness home with her.
No. She wasn’t going to get away. This was one fairy who wasn’t going to go home and live happily ever after.
I took up the bloody wand in my hand again. Grounding and centering, I sought alpha. Menessos, Una, and Ninurta had used astral travel to find the fey. Witches could similarly send their spirits out to journey for knowledge, tethered by a silver cord of light. Many even visited other worlds by this nonphysical means. I was going to find the gateway the fey were using to this world. Then I would shut it. For good.
Letting my spirit project, I rose up over Lake Erie and followed the silver cord that Fax Torris was using as a tether to her own world while manifesting herself here.
I followed it, speeding across Earth to the place where the portal originated. This was where Fax Torris’s line led me. No other cords were using the gateway. The other fairies were dead or had fled home.
Calling the glowing mantle of the Lustrata—given me by Hecate herself—to my spirit shoulders, I touched the badge with the balanced scales over my heart.
Fax Torris has done enough damage to both worlds.
With steadfast will, I visualized the gateway and, raising the wand with Menessos’s blood, I demanded it slam shut. My own power poured into that plea and, as Menessos said, I added my desperation, hope, and resolve. Lastly, I offered my pain and loss.
The door started to swing shut.
When finally it closed, her cord snapped back to her. Severed. I hoped that she realized the chance at freedom she’d lost. I hoped she panicked. And I hoped Vilna-Daluca was the one to strike her down. For Xerxadrea.
For several minutes I remained engulfed in the astral world, creating seals—I visualized steel bank-vault doors and thick concrete. When I had erected what I believed to be an impenetrable blockade, it was done.
Fax Torris wasn’t going to escape back to her world. One way or another, she was going to die in mine.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
By the time I returned from the astral plane to the circle on the shore and released the elemental quarters, the witches were flying in low from the lake. The red fairy was nowhere to be seen.
What remained of the elementals had gathered around the circle. Without the magic collars, they were no longer ominous. The unicorns’ eyes had softened and they pawed at the sand as if bored. The griffons lay down like a herd of cattle before the rain. The phoenixes preened themselves. The dragons had curled up like coiled snakes.
Thirty yards away, Kirk was crouched before Johnny and Mountain who were both sitting on the sand.
Sitting. Alive! Thank you, Goddess.
Two others I recognized as Beholders sat with them.
I eased away from the circle, using a soothing voice to say things like, “Good griffon, stay. Pretty unicorn, don’t step on the vampire.”
When I was clear of the animals, I ran toward Johnny, shouting his name.
With Kirk’s help, he stood. He wasn’t naked; Kirk must have retrieved Johnny’s clothes for him. When I reached him, I almost knocked him down, wrapping him in my arms that urgently. Holding on so tight, I squeezed him like I’d never let go.
He was gasping and flinching. I jerked back. “What’s wrong?”
Johnny let me go to clutch at his chest. It took a few heartbeats before he found his voice. “Phoenix cut me.”
“He needs stitches,” Kirk announced. His rifle was slung over his back.
Johnny’s shirt was black. Other than being damp, it didn’t show blood.
Vilna-Daluca’s voice came from behind me. “Is the gateway shut and sealed?”
I twisted around. “It is. The fire fairy?”
“Slain.” She didn’t say it proudly.
There were perhaps eighteen witches with her. Most had visible wounds on them. I had seen three incinerated. From Vilna’s expression, I didn’t need to ask what had happened to the others.