But she would take the world farther, into a time when magic dominated. Whim could be reality. Dreams and nightmares would be reified on the land, not just trapped in a slumbering mind. Made real. And humankind could conceive some terrible things. But nothing quite as terrible as she, queen of it all. Her great beauty would be barbed with thorns of fear plucked from the hearts of children. Where she stepped, flowers would bloom. Where she wept, they would die. And her House would grow to such proportions that it would blot out the sun.
No.
Cari dropped the Martin knife. Shadow still fought the angel—she couldn’t help her nature to strive against Order—but if the angel could reach her with that spear, he could end her brief reign.
The moment was not unlike waiting for the nod of the gallows man. The last Dolan woman had chosen to hang.
“Fight!” Mason shouted.
She was fighting, but on the side of the angels. She’d already come to this conclusion at Segue: she needed to change her House’s loyalties. Well, she was giving it her best shot.
She used Shadow to yank the shovel from Mason’s grip. It whistled off into the wind and disappeared over the flatlands that had been the lake before she and Maeve had emptied it.
Xavier primed his arm, the gold spear aiming for her chest.
She wasn’t afraid. And she wouldn’t, couldn’t die. She might not have a soul, but she was immortal just the same. She just belonged in the Other world. The stars would keep turning in the sky. The waters in the sea. Everything in its place. How this little island would bloom where her blood had been spilled.
“Take me back,” Cari said. The angel needed to strike while the madness was controlled by the reason her father had taught her. She raised her Dolan chin to take the blow. The storm could rage and rage, but she was a queen and could face anything.
But I want this world, Maeve roared in her mind.
Xavier had the moment—she’d given it to him like a gift—but he hesitated, surprised, seeming confounded by her cooperation.
Cari braced—hurry! Maeve was writhing within her, a ghost trapped in a bottle. Cari tried to hold her back, but the fae climbed over her resolve, into her skin and bones . . . through her like a doorway . . . ripped through her flesh in a bloody advent . . . and escaped into the world with Cari’s gasp of dismay. Shadow convulsed around her, accepting the queen into the world. Formless she rose into the air, free.
Maeve was free.
Xavier’s expression flexed with an indrawn breath, ready to strike.
But he was too late, in more than one way.
Mason came up behind him, a hand to the angel’s chin, the other curving around his forehead. Black spider lines etched through the angel’s skin. With a hard yank, Mason broke his neck.
Chapter Fourteen
Even as the angel’s neck snapped at Mason’s hard yank, the wraiths let up shrieks of hunger.
Soul. Xavier’s faded in his arms. Which left Mason with the only soul on the island. He tried to cover it again, but was too damn weak and too shocked by the blood gushing from Cari’s nose to look beyond her. He tried to step over the angel’s fallen body, but his own knees buckled. He was so cold. “Move!” he warned her. The wraiths would trample her in their rush to be the first to suck his face.
She whirled around as he dropped to his knees. He ended up propped on Xavier’s back, where he would have collapsed if not for the alarm stringing him upright.
Cari’s arms had lifted to the sides, outstretched as if to hold the monsters back. Wraiths had superhuman strength; she was no match for even one. She had to move out of the way.
Their jaws were low, razor teeth ready to clamp like a bear trap to hold their prey in place for their kiss. Their fetid stink preceded their rush, carried by a gust of air. Their sallow skin and eyes of terror suggested this was a horror to them, too.
Shadow convulsed—Mason felt it like a sonic punch.
And before his eyes the wraiths were mowed down by a scissor shear of lashing magic. It took them from behind so that they went down in pieces—living, immortal chunks of gore that putrefied his lawn. A disembodied arm, still twitching, landed at Cari’s feet.
“Very thorough,” Mason said.
She stumbled back as he pitched forward, so they caught each other. One arm held on to her waist, another around her upper thigh. Which was warm and wet. He brought his fingers back, to find more blood. It was a red night. The iron stink was everywhere.
“It wasn’t me.” Cari’s teeth chattered audibly.
The wraith bits would eventually reassemble—probably as wights. The monsters were trapped in the world, no matter their state.
He pulled on Shadow to cover his soul, though he didn’t know how long he could keep it up. Cari was trying to say something, but he was more concerned with how much she was bleeding. And from where. What the fight with Xavier and this wraith mincing had cost her. She had to stop. “No more. Not safe.”
She turned, swiping at her nose, and smeared blood across her cheek. “Crossed, Mason. Maeve crossed.”
Sweet Shadow, her eyes were scary blood-shot, too.
“Stop using Shadow. You’re done.” She was done, or she was dead.
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I didn’t do it.”
He made himself stand. They’d lived. Now they just had to survive. First thing—he had to check Cari out. And he was dying of thirst.
“Mason, listen to me.” Cari’s irises had grown. The circumference had enlarged slightly. More black. More fae. “Maeve. She isn’t in me anymore. She got out. I couldn’t hold her back. She got out. I tried to hold on, but—”
Relief almost dropped him.
Had they won their happily ever after?
“Maeve got out. Good,” he said. Cari needed to be free of her.
Cari shook her head in denial. “No, not good. Not good! She’s insane. I saw everything!”
“As long as she’s not in you.”
“Not in me, but still here.” Cari pointed to her chest. “Connected.”
Movement on the water. Mason squinted to see. No more. Not now. Three boats skimmed forward. Mason grabbed hold of Cari to try to put her behind him, but the move was clumsy with the angel’s body in the way.
Light and Shadow flickered, and the face of Laurence was revealed at the helm of the first vessel. He and several other angels were quickly approaching.
Mason surveyed the carnage. He put his mouth to Cari’s ear. “Do not tell them about Maeve.” Lest they take up Xavier’s cause now that the worst had indeed come true. Mad Mab had crossed into the world.
Cari shook her head. “I have to warn them.”
He grasped the sides of her face. He would not let them hurt her, but he wasn’t worth much now. “Please trust me. My friend. My sweetheart. My love.”
Her chin quivered.
“Do not tell them. They will have to try to cut the threat out of the world. And what will Maeve do to them?” She’d diced the wraiths into pieces.
“She hates angels.”
Yes. Perfect. “So don’t pit them against her. We’ll find a way. Just promise me . . .”
“Ho, Mason!” Laurence called.
“No more blood tonight,” Mason whispered. “Please no more blood.” Not Cari’s.
He would not break eye contact with her until she nodded. Not even as the angels came ashore and approached the battle site.
“Cari.” He needed her assurance. “Do you trust me?” That devilish trust again.
Finally, she nodded.
Angels were here. They were beautiful people in a clean, bright way, with eyes so clear that Cari thought they must see everything. A group went to deal with the shuddering, scattered messes that were the wraith leftovers. She couldn’t bring herself to look over to see how they handled the muck.