How could she be destroyed?
Cari emerged quickly on his other side, a hand raised to keep the fae back. “You will not touch him.”
Maeve dropped Liv’s body. The skull hit the floor with a dull whump. “But he wants to play with me.”
There had to be a way. Even Xavier had given them one moment of possibility. Maeve could be beaten. Somehow.
But those black eyes shifted to him again, effortlessly seeing straight to his soul. His heartbeat accelerated to a frantic tremor. She licked her lips. “And I’m hungry.”
“He’s mine,” Cari said. There. She’d officially claimed him out loud.
Maeve’s head inclined slightly. “Share?”
“I’m greedy.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mason reaching for something. She didn’t know what it was, but his veins ran black, so she figured he was Making something.
“But he has such a pretty soul.” Maeve’s expression filled with longing. “And he wants me, too. Shall I not oblige him?”
“No.” Cari put all her father’s authority into her voice. And the sound that came out of her mouth echoed with his power, resonating from somewhere distinctly Dolan—the ward stones. Her father had always said that was where each House drew its strength.
Maeve’s face went mean. “You’re not Caspar.”
Cari thought of her father’s journal. He’d said he had to become a man all at once—that or die. “I’m his heir and you will obey me as you obeyed him.”
Shadowman’s counsel came back to her as well—how Dolan was a female line. Did that mean she had more or less power than her father over Maeve?
“Fine,” Mab said. “Have him. I’ll get my own.”
In a blast of temper, Shadow jetted out from the fae’s body. And when the darkness cleared, Maeve was gone.
“Nooo!” Cari screamed at the ceiling, the windows, the door. She put everything she was into the call, but the fae was gone. All that was left was Liv’s corpse.
Rick Vincent stood from where he’d gone down on one knee. He tugged the ring out and dropped the box to slide the sparkler on Ysenia’s finger. Her nails were done, though the black polish was a little more city than her usual style. She’d said she was surprised, but someone had to have tipped her off. His sister, probably, who’d approved the ring (after upgrading him from the seven-thousand-dollar princess-cut, to the twelve-thousand-dollar round-cut).
“It’s perfect.” She admired it on her hand for a second, then turned her gorgeous dark eyes on him. Her hair looked pretty tonight, too—she’d added deep red highlights to her natural black. Hair and nails? Yeah, she’d been tipped off for sure.
“You really like it?” Because those payments were going to go on forever.
“It’s exactly what I wanted.” Her hands went to his shoulders and slipped around his neck. The way her eyelids lowered made him think that stashing the blanket here earlier had been a brilliant idea. He might romance two yeses out of her tonight.
He kissed her again as he had a thousand times over the last three months. He’d known she was the one from their first date, though his sister was taking all the credit for setting them up. Which was okay as long as he had Ysenia in his life.
This time, though, her mouth moved harder against his, when she was usually so soft. Maybe she was trying something new here, too. One of her hands dropped to the center of his chest, and he covered it with his own. God, he loved her. Her fingers dug in—passion? It hurt and he tried to draw her hand away, but she was way too strong, and the bruisy feel turned sharp as her nails found his skin, even through his shirt.
He tilted his face down to break the kiss. “Honey—”
Her nails speared him, and he tried to push her away, but she kept him close. Except she wasn’t Ysenia anymore. Her eyes.
“We were just getting to the good part,” she said. “Hold still now.”
Maeve shuddered with the bright light inside her. It burned with the boy’s love—his hope, his terror. The best part was when his soul showed her life as only a human could perceive it. And for a flash in the stretch of long eternities, she was human, too.
She ached for the girl Ysenia, and the pain of it was a beautiful thing. And the fear that had propelled the two to accelerate their relationship? It was warm, with a fizz of hysteria that tickled. The broken love was so wrong. Murder and death. Sin? How wonderful. Not that it applied to her. There was no Hell for her. She’d had worse—everlasting darkness.
She wanted this—to feel this—devotion and passion, a willingness to tie one existence to another and make a shared life. To stand at each other’s side. It’s what the world was for.
Maeve went still. She was about to think.
The boy’s soul was showing her a design, and she focused on it with all the acuity of one great eye, taking in the symmetry. An idea came into her old mind: Love wasn’t just emotion—which came from Twilight. It was a Pattern, too—and that came from Order.
How could she have forgotten this bit of cunning?
She’d seen this pattern before.
And once again, she’d stamp it out. One soul at a time.
Next?
They’d had to leave Liv’s body behind, though Cari made a call to Walker House to let them know that she was dead, killed by a fae. They refused Cari’s offer to make arrangements, and were sending someone of their own to collect her. Mason admired the respectful detachment of Cari’s voice. It differed so much from the stricken expression that etched her face.
Even in death, Liv inspired complicated emotion. But the one that laced them all together was anger. He’d pushed her death into the dark corner of his heart where he’d hidden all things Liv and had laid her body out on the sofa, wrapped in a sheet.
When Cari got off the phone, she said, “They’ve withdrawn their claim on you and Fletcher.”
“I knew they would.” He’d hoped so, too. He didn’t want to fight them over Fletcher, with Walker House wielding Liv’s death like a weapon.
“I’m sorry he won’t know his House.”
“Fletcher knows his House. This house.” And it would have to be enough. “You ready to go?”
They took the boat to shore, where he had his garage. Kitt was still at Dolan House, but his GTO was ready. He’d rebuilt the engine and starter with Shadow, but it still wouldn’t turn over without the key in the ignition. Cari, who’d recuperated much more quickly than he had, insisted she drive, at least for the first shift, but he woke as they were crossing the New York state line into Massachusetts on I-95.
Waking up to her driving his car was okay, though. “How long was I out?”
“About five hours. We’ll be at Dolan House in another forty-five minutes. Kaye Brand is going to meet us there.”
“You spoke to her?” He reached for the drive-thru soda she had clenched between her legs and took a long drag on the straw.
“Briefly. She is convening a special meeting of the Council Houses. She wanted the quick answer on whether or not I’m going to challenge her.”
It had been a very important five hours. “And?”
“All things considered . . . I told her that she had Dolan’s support and that I would not be seeking her Seat.”
Mason tried to cover his relief. Cari was ambitious, but she could also see the bigger picture without imagining herself in the foreground. “This have anything to do with what happened to Liv?”