Fever 5 - Shadowfever (50 page)

.
“Those runes I found are my
sidhe
-seer gifts.”
From the walls of the Unseelie prison? The universe abhors a boring liar. Flamboyance,
MacKayla. Get some if you wish to spend an eternity with me
.
“It’s because I’m the king. The good part of him. I have his memories to prove it.”
We possess memories from a portion of his existence. It was impossible for him to dump
his knowledge without imbuing my pages with the essence of the being that created them. I was
sentient from the moment he finished scribing my pages. Do you recall anything that happened
before the day the queen denied the king his concubine’s immortality?
I turned inward, searching.
There was nothing. A white expanse of emptiness. It was as if life began that day.
It did. It was the day he wrote his first spell of creation, performed the first of his
experiments. We know his life from that day on. We know nothing of his existence before then.
And we know little of his life since—only when I tracked and glimpsed him. You are not the king.
You are my child, MacKayla. I am mother, father, lover, all. It is time to come home
. Was it possible that it was telling me the truth? I wasn’t the concubine, wasn’t the king? I
was just a human who’d been touched by evil before birth?
More than touched. As the king poured himself into me, I am in you. Your body grew
around me like a tree absorbs a nail and now waits to be reunited. You miss me. You are hollow without me. Haven’t you always known it? Felt empty, hungry for more? If I am evil, so are you.
That, my sweet MacKayla, is your monster within. Or not
.
“If you made me, where have you been for the past twenty-three years?”
Waiting for the mewling infant to grow strong before we reunited
.
“You needed me to flip. That’s why you tried to kill the people I loved.”
Pain distills. The clarifying emotion
.
“You screwed up. You came too soon. I can deal with pain, and I haven’t flipped.”
Lift my cover and embrace your dreams. You want Alina back? Snap of a finger. Isla and
your father? They are yours. Dani as a young, innocent child with a bright future? One word can
make it so. The walls back up? We will do it immediately. Walls are no hindrance to us. We pass
through them
.
“It would all be a lie.”
Not a lie, a different path, equally real. Embrace me and you will understand. Do you
want the spell to unmake his child? Is that what you want? The key to releasing Jericho Barrons
from the eternal hell of watching his son suffer? He has been tortured for so long. Has it not
been long enough?
I caught my breath. Of all the things it might say, this was the one thing that tempted me.
I am not without mercy, MacKayla
, the
Sinsar Dubh
said gently.
Compassion is not
beyond me. I see it in you. I learn. I evolve. Perhaps you do have the good parts of the king in
you after all. Perhaps your humanity will temper me. You will make me kinder, more forgiving. I
will make you stronger, less breakable
.
Memories swarmed through my mind. I knew the Book was sifting through them,
manipulating me. It had found the images Barrons showed me in the desert of the child dying in
our arms. It embellished upon what Barrons had told me about his enemies, nearly drowned me
in images of barbaric men torturing and killing the child again and again.
Behind those images, a father stalked through eternity, hunting for a way to release his
son and grant him peace.
And gain it himself.
He gave you everything and has never asked you for a thing in return. Until this. He will
die for you over and over. And all he wants you to do is free his son
.
There was nothing it had just said that I could argue with.
Open me, MacKayla. Embrace me. Use me for good, out of love. How could a thing given
from love be bad? You said it yourself—it is the intention that defines the action
. And there it was in a nutshell, the ultimate temptation: to pick up the Book, crack it open,
and read it, looking for the spell so Barrons could unmake his child, because I would be doing it
for all the right reasons. Even Barrons had said evil wasn’t a state of being, it was a choice. The Unseelie King had not trusted himself to retain the power contained within the pages
of the
Sinsar Dubh
. How could I?
I stared at it, debating.
Irony, perfect definition:
Barrons had said,
that for which I want to possess it, I would no
longer want once I possessed it
.
If I picked it up—even with the most merciful of reasons in my heart—would I still care
about releasing the child once I raised the cover? Would I care about Jack and Rainey, about the
world, about Barrons himself?
Foolish fears, my sweet MacKayla. You have free will. I am only a chisel
. You
are the
sculptor. Use me. Shape your world. Be a saint if you wish: Plant flowers, save children,
champion small animals
.
Was it that easy? Could it be true?
I could make the world perfect.
It’s an imperfect world, Mac
, I could almost hear Barrons roaring.
It was. Royally screwed up. Packed with injustices that needed to be righted, bad people
and hard times. I could make everyone happy.
You have the amulet. With it you will always have control over me. You will always be
stronger than I. I am merely a book. You are alive
.
It
was
just a book.
Take me, use me. It is as Barrons has always told you—it is
how
you go on that defines
you. You make the choices. His child suffers. There is so much suffering in this world. You can
make it all go away
.
I stared at it, hands flexing. That was the hard thing. The pain. He and his son suffered
endlessly and would continue to do so every day, eternally. Unless I could get the spell of
unmaking I’d promised him.
I have such a spell. We will lay the child to rest together. You will be his savior. We will
free him now, this very night. Open me, MacKayla. Open yourself. I have been unguided. You
will teach me
.
I bit my lip, frowning. Could I guide the
Sinsar Dubh
? Would my humanity give me the
edge I needed? I turned inward, searching my heart, my soul. What I found there straightened my
spine and squared my shoulders.
“I can,” I said. “I can change you. I
can
make you better.”
Yes, yes, do it now. Take me, hold me, open me
, it whispered.
Love you, MacKayla. Love
me
.
I couldn’t wait another moment. I reached for the
Sinsar Dubh
.

The Book was icy beneath my hands, but the flames in the rubies warmed my soul. I was touching the
Sinsar Dubh
.
The contact took my breath away. We were twins separated at birth, rejoined. I’d been

waiting for it all my life. With it in my hands, I was complete. I hugged it to my chest, shivering, trembling with emotion. A dark song began to build inside me. The Book was a finger and I was the wine-damp rim of a fine crystal goblet. It slid round and round, playing a melody that came from deep within my compromised soul.

I ran my hands lovingly over the jeweled cover.
I felt the immense power it contained. It inflated me, swelled inside me, made me drunk on it, giddy. The baby I’d once been, who’d known no right or wrong, was still in there. Unborn, we have yet to develop morality. I suspect there’s some part of us that remains that way until death.
We choose. That’s what it’s all about.
When I stopped embracing it, held it away to admire it, the crimson rune that had been hidden in one of my palms pulsed wetly, expanded, and latched tiny suckers onto it, binding the covers closed.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING!
the
Sinsar Dubh
screamed.
“Making you better.” I began to cry as I scooped another bloody rune from the glassy black surface of my lake. I wanted the Book like I wanted to breathe. Now I knew why it had hunted me. I
was
its perfect host. We were made for each other. With it, I would never fear anything. Rejecting it was the hardest thing I’d ever done in my life. More bitter still was the knowledge that with each rune I pressed into the boards and binding, I was condemning Jericho and his son to continue living in an eternal hell.
HOW DARE YOU DECEIVE ME?
“The nerve of me.” I wanted to tear the runes off, crack open the Book, take my spell of unmaking. I didn’t dare. If I opened the gold, black, and crimson cover the tiniest sliver, its dark song would rush out and consume me.
She would doom the world
, they’d said.
I’d been tempted, so tempted. I wanted Alina back. I wanted the walls up. I wanted Dani to be innocent and young and not my sister’s killer. I wanted to be Jericho Barrons’ hero. I wanted to release him from endless pain. See him walk into the future with hope and maybe even smile every now and then.
YOU SAID THE WORLD WAS IMPERFECT!
“It is.” I pressed another dripping rune into the cover.
But it was my world, filled with good people, like my father and mother, patient Kat, and Inspector Jayne, who were always doing their parts to make it a better place. Unseelie might be overrunning our planet, but we’d been long overdue for a threat to unify us as a race and turn our petty angers away from one another.
There was pain, but there was also joy. It was in the tension between the two that life happened. Imperfect as it was, this world was real. Illusion was no substitute. I’d rather live a hard life of fact than a sweet life of lies.
I flipped the Book over and pressed a rune into its back.
Its voice was muffled, growing weaker.
He will hate you!
That was the crushing blow. I’d been a breath away from what Barrons had devoted his entire existence to getting, and I’d turned my back on it. I’d promised him. I’d told him we would find a way, and I’d failed him. There was no way to lift a single spell of such power from the
Sinsar Dubh
. It would never have floated it to the surface and given it to me willingly. Even now it was regretting that it had ever floated anything to the surface for me, but it had taken calculated risks, tempting me to look deeper. It had given me what I’d needed to stay alive, to keep me heading toward merging with it, taking it in, letting it have my body and have control. It knew what I wanted now and would never give it up unless I merged with it completely. If I’d raised that lid—even a scant inch, just for a quick peek—looking for the spell, it would have been all over. It would have taken up squatter’s rights and obliterated me. Perhaps some tiny part of me would have remained cognizant, screaming in eternal horror, but not enough to matter.
Ryodan had been right. The
Sinsar Dubh
was after a body, and it had wanted mine. If I believed its story, it had prepped me to be possessed since before I was born. Waited until I’d become the perfect host. But it hadn’t waited quite long enough. Or maybe it had waited too long.
Evil is a completely different creature, Mac
, Ryodan had said.
Evil is bad that believes it’s
good.
I hadn’t understood what he was saying at the time. I did now.
I pressed another rune onto the binding.
I would never lay Barrons’ child to rest now. Never free the man.
Destroy you, bitch! Not the end. Never the end!
Four more runes and the
Sinsar Dubh
was silent.
I sat back on my heels. My hands were shaking, I was exhausted, and my cheeks were wet.
I was about to lay my hand against the cover to confirm what I sensed, that it was contained—at least as well as it could be until we got it to the abbey—when the invisible barrier restraining Jericho evaporated.
Then I was in his arms and he was kissing me, and all I could think was that I’d done it, I’d survived, but at what cost?
From the day I’d met him, he’d been after one thing and one thing only. He’d been hunting it for thousands of years with singleminded focus.
I was a woman he’d known for a few months. What could I possibly mean to him compared to that?