“It was like some spirit in the woods—not a ghost, but a being that belonged in the forest. It had been awakened when something went out of balance and allowed it to enter the woodland. I don’t know where it came from—some chaotic portal a step away from our own realm, perhaps? But whatever it was, we knew that it was an astral entity.” Hunter stared at the cloud. “We didn’t know it was hiding among our people until too late. We lost ten men and fifteen of the women and children that day before it had sated its hunger and vanished. We never did find out what happened, or how it killed them, or why it showed up.”
The cloud had stopped, it was paused just yards away from us, but it seemed to be pondering. I frowned, lowering myself into the slipstream as I tried to figure out what it was and what to do about it.
As I searched for its energy—if Ulean had been able to tap into it, I should be able to as well—the austerity of the forest hit me.
I could sense the crystalline presence of the Ice Elementals, though their thoughts ran on their own current, and the hush of the trees—deeper still. And I could even feel the spirit of the storm, driven by Myst. Brooding and powerfully hungry, it was eager to gobble up the forest for its own. And then, a layer below that . . . Yes, there it was—the cloud that faced us.
The energy was alien, just as alien as the Elementals, but in a far different way. While both were sentient and aware, the cloud had an agenda, though the hungers and desires present on the slipstream were jumbled and hard to read. But it wanted at us—it wanted in. It wanted me. Which brought me to the question: What was stopping it from attacking?
The more I examined the currents running between the cloud and us, the more I was able to pick out something. I began to see a barrier—a shimmering field of energy that surrounded us. Then I knew. I knew what was keeping this being in check.
“Ysandra and her crew have managed to erect a protection field around us. The cloud can’t get through. I don’t know what that is, but if the protection spell is broken, it’s going to attack us the first chance it gets. And while I’m not certain what damage it can do, I am not eager to find out.” I turned to the others.
Hunter shook his head. “I think it’s the same type of creature we faced so long ago. As to the damage: It can kill. Easily, swiftly, and without warning.”
“Since Ysandra is protecting us, if we leave the area—walk on by—will it follow us or just wait for the next unsuspecting person to come along?” Not that there would be anybody meandering through the woods today. Hell, the way this storm was going, anybody not from the realm of Snow and Ice would die out here without help. Kaylin was surviving because of us.
“I believe that it will follow us. But there’s not much we can do about it. I don’t know how to fight it. Neither do you.” Hunter shook his head. He looked worried. I could vaguely see his expression—our eyes were better suited for the night than most other races. Even Kaylin was able to see in the night more easily than most magic-born or yummanii. His demon had given him some pretty hefty adaptations when it had wedded itself to his soul.
I debated trying to attack it here and now, but that might break the spell. And if we didn’t even know what it was, but we did know that it was deadly, blindly rushing in was something better left to fools. I might be stupid sometimes, but I didn’t have a death wish.
“I guess we just have to accept that it’s going to be on our tail, then. Check, have one of your men keep an eye on it as we travel. Let’s get a move on. We have miles to go, and the storm shows no sign of letting up.”
Lannan, who had barely spoken since we started out, surprised me by saying, “The storm won’t let up till that bitch is dead.” He wore no coat, only a leather jacket. Vampires had no fear of the cold. But beneath the jacket, he was wearing a heavy sweater and jeans that would offer him some protection in case of a fight.
There didn’t seem to be a need to answer him—we all knew he was right. So we headed out, toward the Barrow that I remembered from so long ago. It was hidden deep in the forest, but as we plowed through the maze of trees and mounds of snow, I began to feel a sense of familiarity. I’d never been back here, not since I was a little girl and only that one time, but there was something about the feel of the area that rang a bell somewhere in my core.
Once again, I felt the past intruding into the present, only this time, it was like I was walking in two worlds at once. Here, with Grieve and my men, and yet . . . and yet . . . I was walking in another age, as well.
In a dream state I walked atop the deep snow. The land here was fresh and new. Mother had settled on it because we were close to the Fae Barrows. They’d had no clue we were near, not for a long time. And then, even after, they’d ignored us until I’d changed everything by falling in love with Shy. Now they hated us—their dark cousins who walked in blood and shadow.
And yet . . . and yet . . . I was not here—not really. I glanced around and realized that everything I looked at seemed to be filtered through a vapor that rose up to cloak me in mist. Then the sound of snuffling startled me, and I whirled around to see an ancient elk break free from the trees. But instead of sensing me—instead of turning to run—he ambled past, not even glancing in my direction.
I looked down at my hands—they were as translucent as the ice of the Elementals. They shimmered, as did my gown and the air around me. Confused, but knowing this was my home, I continued on, following my instinct until I saw the Barrow Mound ahead.
Out of that mound stepped a woman. The Barrow looked covered with broken branches and in a state of disrepair. And the woman? She was tall as the sky with hair the color of raven wings, and her eyes were jet with swirling stars in their core. She was like a spider, thin and jointed but beautiful in a terrible way. Her dress was the color of twilight, covered with silver embroidery. Something about her struck a chord in me, and then . . . with one look at her tearstained face, at the look of fury filling her eyes, I remembered.
Myst. She was my mother. And yet, she didn’t seem to recognize me. In fact, she stared past me as if I weren’t there. As if . . .
A guard scuttled up to her, kowtowing at her feet. I couldn’t hear what he said to her, but she kicked him in the face, knocking him back, and then he hunched his way to the side, darting terrified glances over his shoulder.
Another moment and Myst straightened her shoulders as four more guards emerged from the woods, carrying a stretcher over for her to inspect. My stomach dropped, and I had the feeling that I knew who was on that stretcher. As they passed by me, I saw I was right. There, stretched out in a silver gown, dead to the world, was my body. Cherish. Daughter of Myst. Killed by my own hand—by a drink that was both poison and a promise for the future.
Myst stared in silence at the body for a moment, then spoke the last words I would ever hear from her in that lifetime.
“This is the body of a traitor—give it to the hounds to feast upon, and if they die from the poison in their veins, throw them in the lake. I have no daughter. Not anymore. And if her spirit should ever return . . . I will banish her to the depths of the abyss.”
As she turned, her dress swishing against the snow, I wanted to lunge forward, to fall at her feet and tell her I was sorry, that even though my heart had won out, I still loved her. But then she was gone, into the Barrow.
With a sudden rush, I fell through the snow, swirling, finding myself back on the hilltop with Shy. We were bloody—I had mowed down guards on both sides with a vengeance, long enough to give us this respite. We had managed to hold them off for three days after they tracked us down, but we knew this was the end of the road. We wouldn’t survive the night. This was our last stand—our ending. Only it wasn’t happily ever after.