30. Chapter Thirty
William
The lake swallowed them, and William followed. Fearworn had taken so much; his joy, his sense of comfort, friends, and patients, but he would not take Nicholas.
He risked opening his eyes. A useless endeavor because the black lake held no light. The sun did not dare to enter here. But he called to the Sight, willing the strings around Nicholas’ heart to appear. If he was close enough, he would see those convoluted strings and know which direction to swim.
There, a dim light fell lower and lower. He swam to no avail. The light disappeared entirely. Fearworn dragged Nicholas too far down and his lungs screamed. He couldn’t make it. Kicking his feet, he breached the surface, gasping for breath.
“William!” Charmaine splashed over, having jumped into the lake, too. His heart swelled in appreciation, then plummeted, for he couldn’t withhold a feeling other than pure panic for long.
“He’s gone. He’s at the bottom of the lake, I know it,” he hacked.
He would lose Nicholas forever. He couldn’t breathe. His legs and arms went numb. The cavern darkened, shrinking, becoming as dark as the lake. He needed to save Nicholas.
Charmaine grabbed him by the waist to stop him from falling under. He couldn’t swim, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t save anyone. She said something. He couldn’t make out the words over his mind shrieking. Then there was Arden, his voice somehow piercing William’s panic.
“The bottom? I can get that bastard out of there!” Arden shoved his hands into the mushy shore side. “I suggest you get out of the water.”
Charmaine dragged him to the edge where he fell into the muck. The mud cooled his overheated skin. His voice came out hoarse. “What are you going to do?”
Arden snickered. “I am going to make a mess of things.”
The ground grumbled. Debris fell from the ceiling. Henry stayed with the patients, using wind to smack any debris aside. He and Charmaine huddled together, keeping each other steady as the shaking got worse and worse. William’s panic weakened him. His head pounded and knees trembled.
The water bubbled, rippled, then waves splashed over the edge. Great stalks of vines and roots breached the surface. They wiggled and moved like living things. Soon, the water spread and rose until his ankles sank.
“There!” Charmaine pointed at Fearworn and Nicholas caught between a pair of wiggling roots.
Fearworn had his teeth buried in Nicholas’ shoulder and nails pierced his abdomen.
Nicholas laid there, motionless, skin an off gray with violet tendrils whipping wildly beneath.
His eyes flickered between violet and fuchsia.
That violet poured into Fearworn. His once skeletal frame took on muscles, the skin more pale white than gray.
He was draining Nicholas, reaping his energy like a leech.
The energy he lost returned in an angry flash.
Pure adrenaline propelled him toward the lake.
He whipped out his pistol and fired. The bullet pierced Fearworn’s shoulder.
He didn’t flinch. Fearworn’s head was too close to Nicholas to chance a headshot.
And with the way his eyes swayed, he didn’t trust himself not to mess.
He crawled over the roots, moving in more and more, aiming his gun at Fearworn’s abdomen.
Another bullet ripped through him, but he didn’t move.
Not until the portal brightened. The strings once connecting to his patients spun toward Fearworn.
The shade surged for the portal. The light brightened from the portal, strengthening.
William slipped across the roots, struggling to maintain a hold. They slithered with a mind of their own, lashing out at Fearworn. Corpse-like or not, the bastard was agile enough to weave through the growths.
William cursed his limbs for shaking, for not carrying him further, faster. If he lost Nicholas, he would never forgive himself.
Evera tackled Fearworn. The three of them dropped into the roots. Nicholas fell limply between the crevices. Evera’s blades sank into Fearworn’s back. Shrieking, he knocked her aside so forcefully she flew across the lake.
William fired the last of his shots. The iron seared Fearworn’s flesh that pushed each bullet out. The shade searched frankly for his prey. William scurried for Nicholas, knowing he was too far to get there before Fearworn. The bastard had his claws digging into Nicholas in an instant.
Groaning, Nicholas’ eyes fluttered open. The vibrant hue dulled to gray. His skin took on a sickly pallor. He worked up the energy to elbow Fearworn. Fearworn’s fangs pierced Nicholas’ neck. He jerked this way and that before falling limp once more.
William reloaded his gun, hating that he couldn’t do more. What was he in the face of magic, unlike anything he had ever seen and anything he could ever do? Even Nicholas couldn’t do anything, the life force being ripped out of him by a rabid shade whose eyes grew fiercer in their greed.
However, that shade hadn’t shown his true abilities. William never forgot the terror when Fearworn chased them in the woods to retrieve his book. His power was unimaginable, and that power hadn’t shown itself.
Was he too weak to use it? William wondered.
The portal tore through reality, creating a vortex that nearly threw him from the roots.
The once white light became a gruesome green.
Sparks flickered along the edges, catching fire to the grass, then the roots themselves.
Fearworn’s need to escape grew more frantic.
He didn’t dodge Charmaine’s flames that hit his back over and over.
He was frantic in his escape because whatever would bring him back for good was beyond that portal, and he needed Nicholas.
Fearworn would take him away, like he had taken a piece of William already.
That time, the monster threatened to take a piece of his heart that no fae magic or earthly medicine could mend.
The pain he felt over the years believing Nicholas used him would be nothing compared to his loss.
They had so much to do, a life to live together, as turbulent as it may be. He would take that over nothing at all.
“You can’t have him,” William said through clenched teeth. “You can’t have him!”
He leapt over the writhing vines, so focused on Fearworn that the rest of the world blurred. He didn’t care about anything but reaching Nicholas before Fearworn took him forever. Gun raised, he fired and fired until he had to reload. Bullets proved useless. He needed to be closer.
Suddenly, a wire of light wrapped around his torso.
The heat of it singed his shirt and forced a hiss from his tense jaw, then he was flung forward.
Evera’s whip sent him hurtling toward Fearworn.
Evera’s whip disappeared, and he rolled across the roots, then fell upon the shoreline.
Fearworn stood in front of the portal, a violet miasma seeping from Nicholas’ form.
The miasma curled around Fearworn, slithering into his eyes and making the portal pulse.
Fearworn leapt into the portal. With a desperate lurch, William caught Nicholas’ hand, cold and limp. The portal hissed and cracked. It was closing. Fearworn’s desperation showed in the whites of his eyes. Fearworn gripped Nicholas’ waist. His fangs released, gushing blood.
“It’s fruitless,” Fearworn growled, his words grave and old like worn paper. “Kill me here and I will revive. Let me leave and I may never return to these lands again.”
William knew better than to believe him. Fearworn had to end here without his powers. There had to be a way, something, anything, to save Nicholas by ensuring Fearworn would never return. He couldn’t threaten them and their realms ever again.
The portal bristled with violent light. Behind Fearworn, colors bled together. William’s hand barely passed the threshold, feeling that peculiar sensation he had when crossing into Faerie, and that gave him an answer.
Keeping hold of Nicholas’ hand, he grabbed his revolver with the other. Fearworn cackled as if to frighten him, but William was confident the shade couldn’t use his powers. Not without draining Nicholas entirely, which he wouldn’t let happen.
Fearworn reached for William’s gun. Flames scorched his fingertips.
The shade shrieked in pain. Charmaine stood at the sidelines, her hands blazing.
She hurtled balls of fire against Fearworn’s side, carefully avoiding hitting her companions.
Then there was Arden, his hand on a rotten tree.
The branches elongated to swipe at Fearworn.
Snarling, he smacked them aside, all the while maintaining a hold on Nicholas’ waist.
William put the revolver to Fearworn’s temple and fired until his gun clicked on empty.
Fearworn’s mouth sagged, eyes rolled, and grip loosened.
The bullets that lodged in his skull made the skin burn black.
William pulled Nicholas with all his might, bringing the fae into his chest. Nicholas sagged against him, groaning, one hand hardly capable of twisting into the torn fabric of his shirt.
He held Nicholas and dropped his gun to retrieve the iron blade, the final blow that he plunged into Fearworn’s chest. The shade screamed, an animalistic, dying sound.
Black blood, thick as molasses, spilled from his orifices.
William kept one arm around Nicholas and shot his other hand around Fearworn’s throat.
The silver squeezed so tightly Fearworn choked, and he pushed.
“What are you doing? Don’t send him through the portal!” Evera shouted.
“Trust me,” he said.
With a shove, Fearworn passed the threshold.
The bullet holes in his skull sizzled, trying to close and failing.
The iron blade in his chest became molten red as if plunged into a forge.
Fearworn growled when he tried removing the dagger to no avail, then clawed at William’s arm.
He didn’t relent even as silver streams fell and the pain tore through his nerves.
“Release me,” Fearworn snarled, his fear palpable, and William knew he had made the right decision.
The portal shrank. Fearworn tried to look behind him. William held tighter, forcing a choked breath from Fearworn.
“Release me,” he tried again, his hands incapable of getting a grip. The iron seeped through his skull, visibly moving beneath his skin. The portal shrank to show only his head, the edges crackling with energy.
“Your arm,” Fearworn wheezed. “You will lose it.”
“I’m okay with that.” William watched the portal shrink. Fearworn’s claws pierced his arm. The pain had his teeth grinding. He wouldn’t relent, watching Fearworn disappear. His eyes showed in the dark, brilliant violet, wonderfully terrified. Then they were gone.
The portal shut. Nicholas fell from his grasp. The pain sent him to his knees, shrieking as the little remnants of silver bled from his arm, leaving a scarred stub. He wept so hard he couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t regret his decision for a moment.
What he hated was that he never felt he could mourn the loss of a piece of himself because he believed he should be grateful. He saw himself as lucky, no matter what anyone said. But now he wept at the knowledge that he chose the loss that time and that he could choose what to do next.