Crowned by Fire (5 page)

“You'll live,” he said, speaking over her. “And besides, you'll like this one.”

Cassandra glanced at Catherine, curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Yeah,” Catherine echoed. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

A dangerous emotion gleamed in his eyes. “Only one way to find out.”

Catherine started to get a bad feeling in the pit of her gut. If this were some innocent parlor trick, he wouldn't have that look of predatory anticipation on his face.

As if reading her mind, he said, “What's the matter? Afraid of what the future holds?”

“Why don't you go first?” she suggested tightly.

His expression closed. “It doesn't work on me.”

“Do you want a reading, or not?” Cassandra asked, all earlier traces of friendliness gone.

Catherine shot a defiant glance at the witch. “Yes,” she said. “Read me.”

“Give me your hand.”

Catherine thrust out her left hand; it was the closest.

“
Sinistra
.” Cassandra made no move to take it. “You're left-handed?”

“
I'm ambidextrous. Why?”

“
The left hand is considered the hand of evil, the one that holds you back. The right hand controls your fate.”

What did that say about left-handed people then? Hell, Sharon had been left-handed.

Cassandra pushed Catherine's hand aside as she spoke, taking her gently by her right wrist. The seer's fingers were cool, though not as cool as Karen's or Finn's. Having low temperature in the extremities appeared to be a witch trait.

Cassandra's touch was pleasant, soothing, like sliding her hand into a tepid bowl of water. She nearly relaxed. And then the pain started. Catherine gave a full-body recoil, and let out a hoarse scream. So much pain that she lost all sense of direction outside of the fleshly prison her body had become. She could only focus on where the agony was, and there was plenty, coursing through every inch of her body, as if her blood had turned to rivers of fire.

Catherine tugged at her hand, but Cassandra's grip was like silver; it sapped away all her strength, leaving her as weak as a kitten. When she looked up at the seer's face, she saw that Cassandra's eyes were completely black; the pale green irises and the whites of the corneas had been eclipsed by the pupils. “No,” she moaned.

The ache in her body swelled, and seemed to center abruptly somewhere deep in her chest, squeezing her heart. If Catherine had possessed knees capable of feeling, she would have sunken to them in her throes of agony. But she was no longer in the seer's living room. Catherine was somewhere else entirely, and it didn't look like earth.

Not like any earth that she had ever seen.

She was standing in a ring of flames as the ground around her crumbled away into unseen water. She could hear the splashes the chunks of granite made, loud, like a tidal roar. Or maybe that was the screaming she heard. Hundreds of voices, perhaps thousands, shrilling their collective agony as the city was razed around them.

Dead, barren, swathed in darkness. Only the glow of the fires provided any light. And then, even that was extinguished as a heavy rain began to fall.

Someone was holding on to her as the ground split away. Tightly, as though afraid to let go.
Or just afraid
. She could hear another chorus now, just below the screams. A high, keening that reminded her of recordings of whales she'd once heard.

But no whale on earth had ever managed to sound so sinister, so inherently
evil
.

The sound frightened her, and sent all the animals inside her, predator and prey alike, clamoring for safety. Because whatever creature it was that was making those sounds, it was insanely powerful, and it was hungry, and it was hunting—hunting
her
.

Thunder filled her ears, and she thought it was the storm rolling in until she felt the tremor beneath her feet, the splitting crack, and then the ground was yanked out from beneath her feet, and she and her unseen companion were falling into a black abyss.

Splash
.

The water ripped her protector away. He—it was a he, now, she realized—cried out only once before the water silenced him. She dove, as graceful as a dolphin in the black water, searching desperately, blindly, beneath the surface.

Where had he gone? It had been seconds—ten at most. There was no way he could have sunk so far, so fast. But he had vanished without a trace, leaving her alone.

Not quite alone.

(If one fails, then so shall all—

Bring death to those of Evenfall
.
)

She heard a laugh. There, in the darkness, someone was declaiming.

A wave crashed over her head, plunging her beneath the violent waves. It was dark, so dark she couldn't see her nose in front of her face, and cold. So, so cold. All the heat was leaving her body, and she could no longer fully breathe. She thought she might be dying.

“
Beast of shadows, touched with sight.” It was the voice from before, louder now, and all the more menacing because of it. “Come to me.”

The water wrapped around her limbs. It was a water spell, she realized, similar to the one Karen had used on her what seemed like a century ago. She jerked violently, and sucked in a frightened breath as something brushed against her throat, halfway between a caress and a threat. “No,” she said weakly, shivering. “No.”

“Blood will flow like wine.”

She thought it could not possibly get any darker than this.

She was wrong.

“
The Shadow Thane will lord over all.”

The last thing she saw was the sky.

“And the world shall be slave to his dragons.”

There were no stars.

Fleeting pain, a quiet snap. Her throat had been pierced, her spine broken. And as her eyes began to fill with the milky glaze of death, the darkness began to flake and crumble, swallowed up by a golden light as the heavens crashed to earth.

And then, she saw nothing more.

Finn had been watching the shifter closely, curious how she would react to the reading. He had reluctantly permitted Cassandra to read him only once, and it had been a mistake he would never repeat. Seeing it again, as a casual observer, would allow him a different sort of insight into the process.

As much as he resented sharing half his blood with a human, even he had to admit that Cassandra had her uses. She would never betray him, however much she might want to in her heart of hearts, because doing so would put her and her family at risk. Perhaps that had been his mother's intention, staking out an insurance policy in the human world. She had been a heartless negotiator.

Just like Father
.

His lips twisted. That had been part of the problem. They had been too much alike, and the marriage had turned into a series of perpetually escalating power games, culminating in his mother's dramatic death. She'd always had to have the last word. There was nothing more final than that.

At first the shifter struggled, whimpering as though in pain. She could not pull away. Nobody could, once they entered into a reading with Cassandra. Not until it was finished. Suddenly, the shifter stiffened, and her body went slack. He didn't stop to consider that something might be wrong until she started screaming.

“
No!” Her voice was raw agony. “Not him! Not him!”

Not who, he wondered grimly. The shifter boy? He pushed off from the wall. She was still thinking about him? Even now? “That's enough,” he said sharply.

And then, as if he had broken some kind of spell, Cassandra blinked. As the shadows left her eyes, she released her grip on the shifter, who fell limply to the floor.

“
What did you do?” Finn demanded, crossing the room in four long strides.

Cassandra looked slightly dazed. “N-nothing. I swear, I did nothing.”

“What do you mean? Of course you did. That has never happened before—”

Finn paused. Her chest was motionless, and her lips had a faint but unmistakable bluish tinge that caused his eyes to widen in alarm. “She's not
breathing
.”

“
I'll call an ambulance.”

“
No.” If she did that, she'd reveal them all.

“
Phineas!”

“
Shut up, human.”

He dropped to his knees without thinking, and covered her mouth with his own. He breathed new air into her lungs, with the magic of a revitalizing spell woven into the particles, and pushed down roughly on her chest.

She would not die. He would not permit her to die. She. Was.
His
.

Her body twitched, bucking beneath his. For a moment, her skin had been cold, as cold as a witch's, but now the heat was seeping back in, and the gray tinge of death had left her face. Finn pulled back, giving her room as she wheezed and coughed up a stream of black water that disappeared the moment it came into contact with the air.

“Holy shit,” Cassandra said, under her breath, staring at the spot. She'd seen it, too, then. He hadn't imagined it, although he rather wished he had.

Because—Finn felt the earth tremble beneath him as the significance of what he'd seen reached him—he had seen that black substance before, in his dreams. It was the calling card of the Shadow Thane. But then, if it was here, now, what did that mean? That none of it had been a dream? That it was all… real?

Keeping his voice steady, he said, “What did you see in that vision?”

“
I can't tell you.” She didn't look very sorry. Her face was pale, her eyes defiant.

“
Make an exception.” He glanced at the shifter. “For her case.” He'd heard the two of them chatting like old friends. She seemed to have a soft spot for the mongrel.

Her eyes went to the shifter. For a moment, he thought he'd gained her compliance but she shook her head resolutely. “I think that would be a bad idea.”

Finn took her pulse with two fingers. It was slow, but strong. Her skin was feverish. “Why?”

“
She saw,” Cassandra murmured. “She saw the reading. I could see it.”

He looked up quickly. “What are you talking about?”

“She's touched with Sight,” Cassandra said. “She was reading me as I read her. That's not supposed to happen. I'm not supposed to share the future, or
bad things happen
.”

He gestured at the shape-shifter. “Things like this?”

Slowly, Cassandra shook her head. “No. Worse.”

Catherine's head was pulsating, as if it were a separate living creature. As the room flickered into focus, she realized it—whatever
it
had been—was over.

She was in the seer's living room, lying on the floor. Her breaths were coming in shallow pants. The throbbing was her heartbeat, loud and heavy in her aching head. She was suddenly, acutely aware of the witch's eyes on her.

He was kneeling on the floor beside her, his face nearly level with hers. His hand was in the process of pulling back, as if he'd been taking her pulse. She hoped that was what he was doing. The witch had made a habit of touching her as if he thought he owned her.

Cassandra's worried face was peering at her over the witch's shoulder. Her eyes were green again, though dulled.

“Thank gods.” Her face screwed up as if she were about to cry. “Thank gods. When you dropped on the carpet like that, I thought I'd killed you. I'm so sorry. That never happens, I
swear—
”

“
Screaming?” Catherine realized she was trembling all over.

“
You kept saying, 'Not him! Not him!'” said the witch coolly.

“
I…did?” There was a dangerous light in his eyes that made her frenzied heart beat that much faster. Her eyes gained focus, fixing on Cassandra. “You said it didn't hurt.”

“
It isn't supposed to.” She was studying Catherine as if she was a science project that had yielded unexpected results. “Was there pain?”

“
Yes.” It was almost a snarl. Predator's displeasure seeped through. Catherine did not appreciate being made to feel vulnerable in a room full of potential enemies. It was a striking loss of face. Especially with the witch looking at her like that.

Why
was he looking at her like that?

Cassandra frowned. “What else? Do you remember anything?”

“It was…it was horrible.” Catherine squeezed her eyes shut, trying to think. “It was completely dark. The world was dead. Something horrible happened.” She paused. The memories were flooding back, and they were just as unpleasant the second time around. “I think I may have been the last one alive. There was someone—a man—trying to protect me. To keep what had happened to everyone else from happening to me. But then we both fell into the black water—and the dragons came.”