Chapter 46
Chapter Forty-Six
Finn found himself in the hall outside the room again. He didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to think about how the mist had come out of the crack in the wall and branded his legs. But here he was.
Each night, he woke up covered in sweat, reliving that moment again and again.
There had been no voice, no words—nothing that gave him any hint as to why he had been marked.
He hadn’t been the only one in the room.
It was as if it had beelined straight for him, ignoring everyone else.
The worst part was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Because it would.
Every hour, every day, they drew closer to the big showdown. And with each passing moment, the certainty rooted itself deeper in his bones: he wouldn’t make it out alive. It was like a shadow stretching toward him, steady and inescapable.
It wasn’t that he was afraid to leave this world…
Okay, that might be a bit of a stretch. He was scared.
Losing the only family he had ever known—that had ever loved him—sent him into a spiraling panic.
What if he went down just when he could’ve saved Sabryn or one of the others?
He couldn’t fail them, and the idea of disappointing them was too much to even consider.
Finn ran a hand down his face as he spun away from the closed door.
It was time to check on Rowen. But he had only taken one step when the door rattled ominously.
A visceral dread slammed into him, numbing thought as his head snapped to the side.
All he could do was stare helplessly as the door shook forcefully, as if something were trying to get out.
A ferocious roar came from the other side of the door—the kind he’d heard in The Grey. Terror rooted him to the spot, the world tilting sideways. Panic thundered in his chest, clawing its way up his throat while his mind refused to catch-up.
Finn could feel the monster’s presence like a foul breath against his skin, thick and oppressive.
It waited just beyond the door. A flimsy barrier of wood was all that stood between him and whatever horror it would unleash.
His heart thundered a warning, but his body betrayed him.
To his dismay, he looked down to find his hand moving slowly, deliberately, as if puppeted by a force not his own.
His fingers brushed the cold metal of the knob. Clutched it.
“FINN!”
One moment, there was nothing but a buzzing sound. The next, Finn was on the ground, thunderous noise coming at him from everywhere—footsteps pounding on the floor, doors slamming, people yelling.
“Bloody fucking hell, Finn. Answer me!”
Finn was caught off guard by the terrified bellow. He swiveled his head to find Elias standing over him, his lips pressed together as worry clouded his eyes. Finn glanced around in confusion as he pushed up on his hand, unsure of why he was on the floor. “I’m here.”
“About damn time. Get your arse up,” Elias demanded as he yanked at Finn’s arm.
Somehow, Finn found his feet again. He looked from his hand to the bedroom door, but it wasn’t moving as it had been. “Did you see that?”
“See what?” Elias was already walking away.
Had he imagined it? Finn shook his head before following his friend. “What happened?”
“Did you no’ hear the house shudder?”
Had he mistaken the door shaking for that? No, that wasn’t possible. He knew what he had seen—what he had felt. “Yeah,” he lied.
Elias cut him a look, those piercing blue eyes probing as he looked Finn over. “When this is over, you’re going to tell me what happened back there.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“Doona try that shite with me, brother. I know you too well.” Elias said no more as they reached the stairs and ran up to the next floor.
There were others ahead of them, all funneling into Rowen’s room. Finn barely made it two steps inside before the crowd stopped him cold. He craned his neck, peered between others, and caught a glimpse of the bed. Rowen’s skin shimmered faintly, like sunlight filtering through mist.
“Someone tell me what’s happening,” Mason’s voice rose, frantic and desperate.
Ferne shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“This is a first.” Balladyn lifted one of Rowen’s arms for a closer look at the faint golden veins.
Mason raked his hands through his hair, his expression raw—a man on the brink of unraveling. “What can we do?” he asked hopelessly.
“We’re Druids,” Rhona said as she walked to the bed. “We do what we always do in times like these. We use our magic.”
She held out her hands and waited until, one by one, each of them linked together to encircle the bed.
Balladyn stood near the door, cautious and vigilant.
Rhona’s voice was clear and strong as she began the chant.
Magic rose from each of them before surging into one thick coil that wound through them, between them, and filled the room.
Finn put his worries aside and focused every ounce of his power on Rowen.
Rowen’s first shot of magic smacked the being’s shoulder, twisting it halfway around. She immediately called for more and prepared for a second strike.
The being sneered, the action cold and terrifying as they slowly straightened. “Nice try, but you won’t win against me.”
“I think it’s time we find out.”
Rowen reared back both hands and lobbed magic with a grunt. The being moved its hand, causing one volley to go wide while the other hit the earth. She didn’t hesitate to let her palms fill with more as the ground beneath her feet trembled, and a growing roar filled the air.
The next thing she knew, an enormous rift tore open in the earth between her feet.
Rowen spun to the side as the ground gave way, narrowly missing being dragged into the yawning crater.
Something struck her in the chest just as she regained her footing, throwing her backward and snatching her breath.
A groan fell from Rowen’s lips as she struck the ground hard and rolled several times, moving on instinct alone. Magic surged in her hands as she rose up on one knee and lobbed a strike at the being. The volley crashed into her foe’s knee, knocking them to the ground.
There was no time to celebrate. The battle was far from over.
Rowen jumped to her feet, her body moving with disturbing familiarity—a muscle memory that wasn’t hers yet somehow lived in her bones.
Fear struck cold in her chest as her power poured from her in deadly bursts, instinct guiding every movement.
But it was the anger that simmered just beneath the surface that pushed her: anger at the fight, but also at the truth that she could no longer deny. A truth she hadn’t wanted to believe. She was all the being had shown her—and more.
Now, she had no choice but to draw upon the magic she never asked for and wield it to survive.
She barely recognized the woman fighting. It was almost as if she were floating above the scene, watching the fight playing out like a movie. But she felt every lick of magic as it moved through her, every flex of muscle as she moved.
She was Rowen.
And yet, she was this other, unnamed woman, as well.
Siofra.
The past and the present converged, creating a maelstrom of magic and defiance. Her earlier apprehension vanished with every blow she landed. The being retreated, holding their hands up in an effort to block her strikes. Whatever threat it had dared to show her had faded to panic.
Yet, she didn’t relent. Not for a second.
Rowen relentlessly sent barrage after barrage, becoming stronger and surer with each assault.
And with it, her magic expanded and swelled, shifting to be more potent and fearsome.
She felt the threads of the cosmos in her fingers and detected magic, not just from Earth, but also from other realms as it reached out to her.
“Please!”
She paused and looked down at the being on its knees, its clothing in tatters.
Their hands still shielded their face. And in that hesitation, Rowen debated whether to take its life.
Then she thought of all those it had already harmed, the lives it had ruined, and the deaths it was responsible for.
Rowen drew back her hand, but her indecision had given it the time it needed to vanish.
“No!” The word ripped from her throat, animalistic and visceral, as the air around her collapsed inward.
Her vision began to warp, colors bled, and light twisted painfully until everything flickered and then fell into total obscurity. There were several seconds of nothingness, and she could no longer tell if she was still near the loch or if she was someplace else altogether.
Unexpectedly, the weight of something soft and comforting settled over her.
Her finger moved, and she felt the softness of crisp, cool sheets against her skin and a mattress beneath her.
She couldn’t see because her eyes were closed.
Was this some kind of trick, something to get her to let her guard down?
She remained calm and prepared herself for the worst. Then, she opened her eyes.
“Rowen?”
She blinked and turned toward the husky voice tinged with hope. Her gaze collided with stormy gray eyes. Elation bloomed as she reached for Mason. Then she hesitated. This could be another trick by the being—one that had the potential to rip her to shreds.
The gray of Mason’s eyes darkened with worry. “Rowen? What is it?”
“I’m not sure it’s really you,” she said.
He sat on the edge of the mattress. “I promise. It’s really me.”
She wanted to trust him, but she couldn’t. Not after everything she had seen and experienced. She sat up, pushing down the covers as she examined his face.
“It’s me,” he whispered and rested his hand palm up on her leg, waiting for her to take it.
He sat still and patient as she inspected his face before returning her attention to his eyes. It was there that she saw the subtle but telling flash of desire, the craving to hold her, kiss her. To love her until she was too satiated to move.
And that’s when she knew she had bested her foe.
Her face crumpled as she buried her head in her hands.
Mason enveloped her, bringing her into the safe and steady shelter of his arms. He said nothing, merely held her as she finally lowered her defenses.
She wound her arms around him, clinging to him, her face in his neck as she let the reality of what she had endured sweep through her.
She wished they could return to the night they had shared together.
It hadn’t just been the pleasure she had experienced.
It had been the time with him: his touch, the warm press of his lips, the look in his eyes when he gazed at her.
His smile, in turns sweet and incomparably seductive.
He had demanded nothing but the total surrender of her body.
How was she to know that he would reach a part of her she had always believed she had been born without?
Tears streamed down her face. The harder she cried, the tighter he held her. He didn’t ask for specifics, didn’t demand answers. It was as if he knew she needed his touch more than anything else at that moment.
Rowen opened her eyes and saw their friends standing around, quietly watching the scene unfold. Reluctantly, she pulled out of Mason’s arms, embarrassed to be caught breaking down so dramatically. She sniffed and wiped at her face. “It’s good to be back. I wasn’t sure I’d ever make it.”
“What happened?” Ferne asked softly.
Rowen found her gaze drawn back to Mason’s.
There was an unreadable expression on his face.
His fingers laced with hers, his hold firm but gentle.
Just as she was about to answer Ferne, Rowen felt a thread of something sinister running through the house.
The manor was fighting against it. Had been battling it for some time.
And while the structure was holding, it was only a matter of time before it became too weak to fight back.
As if the evil sensed her, there was a loud bang below them.
And she knew exactly where it was coming from.
The others ran from the room toward the sound.
The only one who stayed behind with her was Mason.
She shoved the covers away and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
He rose at the same time she did and followed her from the room.
Rowen made her way to the floor below. As she stepped off the last stair, she saw the others grouped around the second-to-last door on the left. Fear tried to take her, but she turned to her newfound magic and brought it around.
Mason kept in step beside her. She half-expected him to ask what she was doing. The question was there in his eyes each time she looked at him, but the words never passed his lips.
She reached the others and gently wove through them until she stood before the door.
There, she paused and swung her head to the right, where Finn stood.
He was pale, his body stiff, and his eyes glued to the door.
The fear she sensed didn’t only come from him, though.
It was time to end this reign of terror.
Rowen gripped the door and readied to turn the handle when Mason touched her arm.
She looked over and saw him. His trepidation wasn’t for what might await in the room.
It was for her. There wasn’t time to tell him that she, of all people, would be safe.
Instead, she gave him a small smile, hoping it would be enough.
He dipped his chin and let his hand fall away.
Then she opened the door and stepped into the empty room.
The crack in the wall pulsed with a glittering energy, alive and dangerous. She sensed the monster on the other side, struggling to get through. It wanted her to help it, to open a doorway so he could climb through. It expected her to do just that.
“Not in this lifetime, asshole,” she murmured. “Not in any lifetime.”
Rowen walked to the far wall. It stood—literally and figuratively—between the two worlds.
Each time her friends had gone through to the other side, it had weakened the spot.
Callum had repaired it, but it wouldn’t hold for much longer.
She had once been scared of this room and what it represented, but not any longer.
The being had attempted to coax her and then frighten her to its side, but all it had done was reveal her true power—and purpose. So much of her life now made sense.
Rowen looked over her shoulder to Mason standing in the doorway, his muscles bunched, ready to come for her if she asked—the kind of man who would always be there. What a fool she had been to only give herself one night with him.