Kaye’s naked human body seemed crushed, collapsed into death. An audible gasp went round the room, the Brand fire snuffed, but then she burst into flames and ascended into the ceiling circle again.
Arman Maya cast an illusion of an angelic host coming to the battle, but it was Gunnar Martin who lunged with the blade intended for Jack Bastian. Not the unity anyone expected, but Mason would take what he could get.
Maeve seemed beset by the little stings of inconsequential creatures.
“Get me down,” Cari said, panting. “Get me down so I can help!”
Maybe Cari was the only one who could make a real difference. Mason dropped the tray and used a chair to climb up toward her. He gripped the gold lace that fastened her to the throne, but no matter how it tore his hands, the metallic stuff would not come loose. He needed one of his knives. Either would probably cut through the lace. He twisted from his climb to locate the nearest one.
And then his heart stopped.
Fletcher panted in the arms of the soldier guy. When the firebird crashed into the floor, the angel almost crushed him, but then the bird took off, and Fletcher was able to breathe again.
The fight was getting good. Made him bounce with excitement.
Crazy kong lady going down!
One of his dad’s weapons was lost under the feet of the scared people. Stupid. The other knife, the gold one, lay waiting on the other side of the crowd. It glowed with light. So cool.
His dad was trying to get Cari down from the throne. She was going to need some real clothes, like right away, because he could totally see her boobs and belly button and down there, too. He’d have to tell his dad that with this and the humping thing, he was officially scarred for life.
The cool long knife first.
The soldier was watching the bird, so Fletcher knew how to get free. The move didn’t work on his dad anymore, but this guy? A thousand years of so-easy-sucker.
Stealth dropped his weight and spun to the side when the soldier grabbed forward. I mean, really. The angel got his balance back, but too late.
Stealth was already running. There were people in the way, but he was a Walker, so he threw his weight into a knee slide right past the crazy kong fae and into the crowd, smoking through the legs of one-two-three people who didn’t even have time to scream.
“Fletcher!” his dad hollered. Okay, so maybe a grounding was in his future. Fletcher stood up and threw the gold knife in the air. Which his dad caught, no problemo.
And just in time for the angel soldier to catch up and yank him into a serious hold, the kind reserved for prisoners, bad guys, and assassins.
Hell yeah.
“He gets it from you,” Cari said, as Mason began cutting her free. The stunt Fletcher had just pulled had turned her belly to water. “I swear you Strays are out of your minds.”
The gown was exquisite chicken wire, made to fit her, but damn uncomfortable.
“He’s punished for life.” White lined Mason’s mouth, a level of rage she’d not encountered thus far. Not even when she’d parted his Shadow to see his soul.
From her high vantage she could take in the action in the room. Most of the mages had cleared out—the wards must be open—only her closest allies and Martin remained. And he was slowly bloodying against Maeve’s strikes. Kaye was relentlessly gauging at Maeve’s eyes, to keep her sightless. And Arman Maya with his illusions had the fae twitching.
But every injury healed and the fae’s energy didn’t flag. The fae was immortal, elemental. There was no way to kill her. They had to find a way to drive her back into Twilight, and Cari didn’t have the faintest idea how. Sooner or later, probably sooner, Maeve would get bored. And then what?
Bored meant death.
Just as Cari broke free, Shadow roiled like a dust storm into the ballroom. The air grew thicker, sweeter, more potent. And out of its abject depths, a new figure stalked onto the battlefield. Khan, aka Shadowman. At his side was Cari’s favorite angel Custo, and he was snarling for a fight.
The cavalry.
“Insufferable,” Maeve complained at Shadowman. “As Death, you must know that of the two of us, only one can die. And it isn’t me.”
“Hello, Mab,” Khan returned. “Only one of us is suited for this world, and it’s not you either.”
Custo drew a golden blade, like Mason’s. He shot a look to Jack Bastian, and Cari caught the flush of relief that crossed the other angel’s features. Meant the Order was here now. Their rhythmic march was no Maya illusion this time.
The alliance was coming together after all, and with all the age and experience in this room, someone had to know how to send Maeve back.
Mason lifted Cari down from the throne, the gown dragging its elaborate train. She kicked off transparent crystal slippers the likes of which would make Stacia weep.
The knife in Mason’s grip grew into a long, fat sword.
Khan threw a fistful of darkness at the fae queen and she aged before their eyes, crumpling in stature. Then inhaled and grew to even more staggering proportions. The menace in her eyes told Cari that playtime was well over.
Custo flung himself forward, then yelped as he was swatted to the side, unconscious.
Cari approached to face down her fairy godmother. She drew deep on Shadow to be able to fight, but the power that flooded her umbra came from Maeve via the Dolan ward stones. They were leashed together. There was no escape for her. Xavier had been right all along. And yet, the time was past to free herself from the fae.
“No escape,” Maeve said, as if she knew Cari’s heart.
Mason came up beside her, his arm around her waist. Sword ready.
“But you’re trapped, just like I am,” Cari said. “There’s nowhere for you to go, but back.”
An army of angels entered the room and settled into tight ranks for an assault. Their breastplates reflected the light of the faefires, and no Shadow touched them. They would come and come and beat back the queen for as long as it took.
“Retreat into Shadow, Maeve,” Khan said. “This world does not want you.”
“The world has no choice,” the fae queen replied.
Her arm licked out.
Cari only had time to cringe as she was grabbed by her hair and wrenched from Mason’s grasp. The force with which she was yanked toward the fae would’ve easily scalped her or broken her neck, but Maeve had made her immortal. She was a dolly, a plaything that had been lovingly dressed, but was now dragged around according to mood.
“Mine,” Maeve said, petulantly.
Mason rushed them.
But darkness clouded Cari’s vision, and she was jerked again, this time into oblivion.
The Order couldn’t reach her here. Dolan House was impregnable; her line had seen to it. Her power sourced the wards. Humanity could clamor at her gates. The Order could marshal against her. But she was staying, forever. This was the Dark Age, and she was their queen.
And in the meantime?
Maeve cast Cari to the side and called upon black magic.
“What’s going o—?” a fair-haired chit asked, coming into the great hall.
Maeve raised a finger at her. Just a moment.
Then she clenched her hand, and Shadow burst outward from her, like the dust from a crashing meteor. She writhed in pleasure as it exploded through the House, across the property, past the wards, and out upon the earth. It would cover the sky with darkness and everything thereunder would wither, unless it was her will that they should not. Their pitiful electricity could not pierce this gloom. Order would break if humanity, in despair, looked elsewhere for survival.
She smiled as the humans that mobbed the perimeter screamed their fear—so simple to control them—then she turned to the mage girl with the white hair. “You were saying?”