Cast in Faefire: An Urban Fantasy Romance (The Mage Craft Series Book 3) (21 page)

No wonder Rage hadn’t been participating in wedding preparations.

Konig was limp in a puddle of faerie limbs beside him. Arawn had lost his first duel against Konig, so he’d come prepared for the second duel. And Konig had clearly lost. He was unconscious.

Arawn strolled along the edge of the room, his sword carving a line in the floor. “You’ve got questions and I’ve got answers. Why did Leliel attack Niflheimr? She didn’t. Why did Konig lie about that? Because he didn’t want you to know what Charity saw. And where is Charity, you ask? She’s in the Nether Worlds with me, and you can’t have her back.”

“What did Charity see?” Marion asked.

“She saw me, for one,” Arawn said. “For another, she saw your fiancé making out with your cousin. From the sounds of it, Konig and Nori were sharing one hell of an embrace.”

The magic Marion had struggled to summon for Nori began to flow through her, fed by hatred. “You’re a demon. Why should I believe anything you say?”

“I don’t really care if you do,” Arawn said. “I like watching you undergo a little soul-searching. I wish you’d done more soul-searching before shattering the gods-damned Canope and ruining my deal with the gods.” He sighed. “Too little, too late.”

He rested the point of the sword on Konig’s breastbone.

Marion thrust a hand toward Arawn, letting the magic of her anger pour from her palm.

It sputtered. Flickered. Barely lit the room.

Arawn looked disappointed that Marion hadn’t hurt him. “Why aren’t you blasting me into nothingness? It’s not that you still don’t remember your magic, is it? Gosh, that wouldn’t be a problem if you
hadn’t broken the Canope
.”

Marion lifted the bow over her head. She had an arrow aimed at Arawn in a heartbeat. Heather wasn’t the only lightning-fast archer in Myrkheimr, and Marion didn’t need magic to be deadly. “Step away from Konig.”

To her surprise, Arawn slunk toward her. “Do you know what an ascension is?”

“It’s when demons gather power to rise in the hierarchy,” she said, adjusting her stance so she could track Arawn with the arrow. “It’s why you’re killing everyone and burning their souls in the Pit.”

“Ascensions haven’t worked since Genesis. The gods saw fit to get rid of them. Thought the system could be exploited, I bet. Can’t imagine why.” The corner of Arawn’s lips tugged into a smirk. “I’ve been burning the souls in the Pit because I want Seth’s attention. I want him to be God. Only he can give me what I want.”

“Sunlight,” Marion said faintly.

“Sunlight,” Arawn agreed.

His attack on the wedding was an ascension—but not for Arawn.

Marion released the arrow.

It seemed to appear in Arawn’s throat by magic, in much the same way that Seth could teleport between planes.

There was no blood. Arawn’s mouth opened wide, exposing rows upon rows of jagged teeth. The seam of his lips tore down his neck. The arrow simply fell out and his mouth kept opening.

Gods, he was just as bad as his Hounds.

Marion flung herself away from the doors, nocking another arrow. She whispered a basic incantation of fire and ice as she pulled the string back to her cheek.

The second arrow punched into the back of his throat. It exploded. He stumbled, mouth contracting.

Marion threw herself to Konig and tugged at the chains, seeking the lock.

He stirred. “Get out of here, princess…”

“Shut up.” Marion squeezed her hands over the shackle. “Open, damn you!” Magic zapped. Locks clicked. The metal fell open, tumbling away from his skin to reveal angry red welts. Arawn had chained Konig with iron: a metal as deadly to the sidhe as silver was to wolves.

She kicked the shackles away from him. Getting them out of his reach was like turning a light on in his brain. His eyes widened and he sat upright, as strong as when she’d last seen him.

“Arawn,” Konig snarled.

The prince thrust his hand into the air, summoning the six-foot bastard sword that was his preferred weapon. It arrived in the throne room with the sound of chimes and a shower of amber light. He gripped it in both hands.

The hoarse howl of a dog made Marion turn.

Arawn had his head thrown back, screeching like a Hound going on the hunt. The veins in his throat and arms bulged.

Then he leaped.

Konig shoved Marion aside, putting himself in Arawn’s path. He thrust the blade into Arawn’s mouth.

It sank into the roof of his impossibly massive mouth with a gush of black ichor.

Arawn kicked, sending Konig flying. But before the prince could hit the wall, he flashed back onto his feet, jumping through the ley lines to stand behind Arawn. He had home territory advantage now. And Arawn had lost the element of surprise.

They fought as only a demon and a sidhe could, making the world twist like the eye of a hurricane. It took all of Marion’s willpower to focus on loosening Rage’s shackles instead of the fight.

With another whip-crack of magic, she released him. The king sagged to the floor.

“Wake up,” Marion said, shaking him gently. “You need to wake up. You need to activate the wards against Arawn.”

One of his eyes peeled open. “Marion? You have to get out of here, kitten. Arawn…Violet…” He couldn’t seem to get what he wanted to say out. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, exposing his chest.

Marion sucked in a gasp.

Rage had been branded with an infernal rune that pulsed with deadly power.

“What does it mean?” Marion asked.

He passed out before he could respond.

Marion stood slowly. The horror that crawled over her was powerful enough that she couldn’t breathe. How was it possible she hadn’t realized what was happening until that moment? Arawn’s demons had gotten a foothold in the Autumn Court because their lord had been there for days—maybe weeks—holding the king hostage.

“Mother!”

The sound of Konig’s shout made Marion’s head snap up.

The Onyx Queen had entered the room. Her hair was smeared with ash and dust from the collapses elsewhere in the castle.

Konig and Arawn were locked in battle, hilt-to-hilt, magic thrashing around them. “Mother, help!” the prince shouted.

Marion drew another arrow and aimed at the Onyx Queen, dread squeezing her heart.

Violet wasn’t going to help Konig because defying Arawn would mean Rage’s death by that infernal rune.

The queen pointed at her son. Magic gathered at her fingertip.

Marion released the arrow, and it flew with aim as perfect as when she’d been shooting for Arawn. The point punched into Violet’s shoulder.

It wasn’t iron, so the queen’s arm only dropped. The spell she cast smashed into the floor instead. Tiles exploded a few feet from Konig’s feet. “Mother!” he cried. This time, the word was wracked with betrayal. His eyes were wide. “What are you doing?”

Arawn shoved Konig to the ground. “Myrkheimr is mine. The entire Autumn Court is mine, royal family inclusive.” When he spoke, his enormous mouth swirled, the teeth twisting in a vortex that threatened to consume everything. “Long live the king.”

S
eth had never needed
to rapid-fire phase between multiple locations before. He’d spent a decade trying not to use preternatural powers, so on the rare occasions that he had taken advantage, it had been when he desperately needed to get somewhere in particular.

He was desperate now, but he didn’t know where to go.

Flash
.

He reappeared on the lawn close to where he’d left Rylie’s son. Benjamin was still there, a few dozen feet away, helping usher people through the fences demarcating Myrkheimr’s lawns from the forest beyond.

Flash
.

Marion wasn’t in her bedroom.

Flash
.

She wasn’t in Konig’s, either.

Flash
.

Seth reappeared in the broken foyer. Raven Knights battled humans who were possessed alongside Rylie’s guards, and that one sidhe archer who was always tagging along with Konig—what was her name? Heather? She had access to the restricted throne room.

He grabbed the archer. Heather looked surprised, but there was no chance to explain.

“You’re coming with me,” he said, holding her wrist tightly.

Flash
.

They reappeared outside the throne room. Heather dropped to her knees and vomited in much the same way that Marion usually did.

“Sorry, but we don’t have time for you to recover,” Seth said.

He hauled Heather off of her feet and wrapped her hand around the handle to the throne room door.

She elbowed him in the gut.

The archer seemed to know just where to aim. The blow went underneath his breastbone and connected with his vulnerable heart. It hurt like nothing else had—not even having Myrkheimr dropped on top of him. It staggered him. He groaned.

The touch of Heather’s hand on the door was enough to make it swing open, though. Both of them saw inside simultaneously.

They saw the body in front of the thrones—Nori’s body—and the massive puddle of blood creeping across the tiles.

“Gods above,” Heather said.

“That’s why I brought you here,” Seth said, scrambling to his feet with his arms folded around his aching chest. “Konig—Marion—”

“Understood.” She pulled a new arrow out and lifted her bow. “Sorry about the elbow thing.”

Marion’s cry echoed through the throne room.

There was an open door behind the dais where the king and queen should have been sitting. Her voice came from that direction.

Seth drew his Beretta and exchanged magazines. Iron instead of lead. He wasn’t going to let anyone hurt Marion again.

“Follow me,” he said. He punched into the next room, guns drawn, with Heather on his left.

In a heartbeat, he saw it all.

The king collapsed against the wall.

The queen with magic thrashing around her fist.

An entire pack of Hounds kenneled under the boarded windows.

Arawn standing over Konig, gaping mouth hanging open to expose the multitude of teeth within his jaw.

And Marion.

She looked a lot like her sister when she was drenched in blood, armed with a bow, and wearing a shredded wedding dress. Seth could easily imagine Marion as a Godslayer. The woman who would bury an arrow deep in his heart and ruin his life.

Violet unleashed a fistful of magic aimed right at Marion.

It didn’t seem like that much of a betrayal at this point. Seth had been waiting for this moment ever since the summit, when he’d told Marion that he believed the royal family was out to get her.

Seth didn’t need another moment of thought to fire his gun.

And he shot to kill.

A bullet hole appeared in Violet’s back. The queen pitched forward. But the deadly magic she had been gathering in her fist had already been released, churning toward Marion in seeming slow motion.

Seth phased.

He wrapped his arms around Marion’s waist and phased again.

They reappeared, and her quiver scattered arrows across the floor of the throne room. She was gasping for breath, clawing at her throat, coughing up blood from the briefest exposure to Sheol. The taste of death wasn’t as sweet on her as it had been in the past. There were many other souls waiting to be claimed in the Autumn Court, and they called to Seth much louder.

Seth sank to his knees while holding her, watching to make sure she started breathing again.

She did.

“You spoke out against Konig,” Marion gasped. It seemed a ridiculous thing to be focused on during a total assault against Myrkheimr.

To be fair, it was also at the forefront of Seth’s mind.

“I’d do it again,” he said.

She got up, hand pressed to her chest. It must have been difficult to breathe in the restrictive wedding dress, but she still found the strength to stand tall and look Seth in the eye. “Thank you.”

The wall behind the thrones exploded.

Arawn erupted through the rubble, clutching Heather’s hair in one fist, and Konig’s hair in the other. The archer was alive but unconscious; the prince was conscious but not fighting. Seth knew that look of shock. It had been on Abel’s face when their mother had been killed.

Violet was dead.

“Took you long enough to get here, Seth,” Arawn said. He tossed both Konig and Heather aside. “I thought I was going to have to skin Marion to get your attention at this rate.”

“You know that I am what you only pretend to be,” Seth said. “So you know how serious I am when I tell you not to touch Marion.”

“Do you really think a human avatar can stand up against a Lord of Sheol at the height of his powers?” Arawn tossed Konig aside with a laugh. “Let’s find out!”

Another explosion shook the room. Cracks raced up the walls. The roof beams sagged, and then snapped. The roof began to fall.

Marion and Seth leaped at the same time. But where Seth tried to grab Marion to phase out of the throne room, Marion went for Nori’s body. “Save her!” she cried.

It was too late. Nori was dead, soul severed from her physical body. Seth could tell because he thirsted to consume her death. Marion didn’t realize, and she bowed over the body while the roof fell around them.

The only thing Seth could do was shield Marion from the worst of the rubble. It struck his back. He barely felt it.

Marion was touching Nori’s throat, feeling for a pulse. The horror of truth dawned in her eyes. “No.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Boo,” Arawn said. He’d appeared on the other side of Nori’s body while they were distracted. He wrapped an arm around Marion’s throat, yanking her off of her feet.

Crimson runes raced in a circle around them, erupting with a flash so bright that Seth’s night vision was instantly wrecked. It formed a towering dome of smokeless flame that sheared the rubble apart where it touched.

Balefire.

They were trapped inside the circle with Arawn.

Seth was standing, aiming his gun at the demon’s leering face, and he hadn’t even felt himself move. He didn’t shoot. The iron bullets would do nothing to Arawn, and he was holding Marion in front of him like a shield anyway.

“Think of this,” Arawn purred in her ear, “if you’d just taken your memories, then I wouldn’t have had to fight for my freedom. Every single soul that’s burned in balefire is your fault.”

“Nobody is responsible for the evil you’ve done except you,” Seth said. “Blame it on the victims if you want, but we all know who’s culpable.”

“How much does culpability matter, in the end? The result is the same.” Arawn scraped one of his fingers down the side of Marion’s throat. He was wearing a metal claw over his nail, and it left a crimson line on her delicate flesh. “Let your mortal form die so you can ascend. I won’t kill Marion if you give me immunity to sunlight as soon as you cross over.”

“I’ve got another deal for you,” Marion hissed at him over her shoulder. “Let me go and I won’t emasculate you.”

“Petty threats,” Arawn began to say.

Marion punched her fist backward.

She was holding one of her arrows. She buried the point in between Arawn’s legs, driving it into the place where humans kept their manhood.

Apparently Lords of Sheol were assembled in a similar fashion.

He released her with a shriek. Ichor spurted over his leather pants.

Seth ripped Marion away from Arawn, into the relative safety of his arms—but that was as far as they could go. Balefire wouldn’t let them pass through it without burning. According to Dana, they couldn’t phase through, either.

There was only one way that they were going to get out of this.

Seth gripped Marion by the back of her neck. Pressed their foreheads together. “Read my mind.
Please
.”

This time, he felt Marion inside his skull.

He focused his thoughts on his memories of godhood—how detached he’d been while omnipotent, how little he’d cared when he had seen Rylie’s death, how it hurt him to be distant like that.

It was an apology he couldn’t bring himself to speak aloud, not when he wouldn’t be able to explain it well enough.

Marion looked horrified. “Don’t go. Please don’t go.”

He’d have given her anything else she asked for.

It was sheer impulse—base animal instinct, the craving for touch—that made him brush his lips over her cheek, like when he’d kissed her forehead after the summit. A gesture he could convince himself was fraternal, friendly, platonic.

She turned her head at the last moment and lips brushed against lips, just a little bit, the barest touch. Her breath tasted of smoked wood. It whispered over his mouth and then she inhaled, tasting him.

Her lips were so soft. A man could have lost himself in that touch.

Seth pushed Marion behind him.

He threw himself at Arawn.

Both Seth and Arawn plunged through the wall of balefire.

* * *

T
he instantaneous incineration
of Seth’s body didn’t even hurt. It happened too quickly.

His avatar was gone.

Seth remained oriented to mortal time in the moments that followed, even as his consciousness slipped sideways into a more god-like state.

In those moments, he remembered he had killed himself to end the fight with Arawn. So he ended it.

Even he couldn’t destroy balefire easily, so he relocated the flames to Duat, allowing it to meld with the rest of its ilk.

The throne room was safe.

Nori’s soul hovered over her body, floating unseen beside Marion. The half-angel mage was increasingly disinteresting to Seth. She had years of life ahead of her. She wasn’t his business like Nori was.

No. Not disinteresting. Not Marion. Focus—don’t forget.

He had to do his job.

Seth reached out by instinct, seizing the ephemeral glow of Nori’s spirit. He saw her as an apparition of herself: a petite, semi-transparent woman with no hair or clothes. The ghost of the half-angel who had been. “There’s a door,” Nori’s spirit said. There was nothing audible about her voice. Marion wouldn’t be able to hear it.

Seth’s heart twisted. “I know. Go toward the door, Nori.” His response was equally silent.

Hundreds more souls were scattered throughout the Autumn Court, their souls yearning away from the bodies that contained them.

Seth couldn’t do anything for the ones Arawn had already burned, but he could still save the others.

He reached out with the entirety of his being and scooped all those other souls into his arms. The throne room warped around them as Seth followed Nori into the Nether.

Arawn was right behind Seth. He’d died in the balefire too, but death seemed to be a different thing for the Lords of Sheol. Nyx had lingered after being murdered, and so did Arawn. “You’re killing them all,” Arawn taunted. “It’s all your fault.”

“No,” Seth said. “It’s yours.”

Taking responsibility for people killed by Arawn would have been like Marion taking responsibility for Konig’s actions.

It was
wrong
.

The Pit of Souls was burning with Arawn’s balefire when Seth arrived with the victims from Myrkheimr. He pulled the balefire away with a thought as brief as the one that had stripped it from the throne room. Now Duat’s flaming shield was miles thick. It touched the edge of the Dead Forest. So much balefire for one little Nether World.

Hundreds of souls hung over his shoulders, heavier than a cloak of lead. He still clasped hands with Nori’s blank-eyed apparition.

They were ready to go through the door.

“Come with us,” Seth said, reaching out for Arawn.

The demon’s spirit hovered a few feet away, his braids lashing behind him in the wind generated by balefire. “Think it through. You don’t want me to die.”

Seth heard him, but he didn’t really care about the question. Arawn was dead. He needed to send him where he belonged in the Pit of Souls so that he could be disassembled, remixed, and spit out as new life.

But wasn’t there something he still needed from Arawn?

“Charity,” Seth said. “Where’s Charity?”

“I can tell you she’s not in Duat anymore, and she won’t survive if you kill me,” Arawn said. “Let me go. I’ll find a new body. I’ll take care of Charity.”

Seth didn’t know if that was the right thing to do. He couldn’t tell anymore.