Chapter 21 #2
Carys moved to the side, allowing Laura to sit beside Lachlan while she moved back to sit next to Cadell.
He was close enough that his mental voice came through. I can kill him for you.
No.
It would be like a favor. He would be with Seren again. Well, probably not, because he didn’t die in battle, but at least he will not put that look on your face.
I was trying to be nice to him.
Don’t be.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded.
Cadell’s mental voice grew softer. He does not have the space in his heart for kindness right now. All he can feel is his own selfish grief. This has nothing to do with you.
I want to go home. I want to take Duncan and go home.
Call your uncle’s man in Cardiff and he will send a plane for you.
She leaned her head against Cadell’s shoulder. “I can’t,” she whispered.
“Why not?”
“Because there are sea monsters in Yorkshire and enchanted bears outside Birmingham.” She looked up. “I have to fix this.”
“Then I’m with you,” Cadell said. “Wherever this angel leads us.”
Angel?
Oh. Of course. Of course Jibril was an angel. A messenger.
Carys blinked. “Not a god. But definitely not just a beekeeper.”
“Most definitely not.”
“And this last druid that Angus mentioned?”
Cadell shrugged. “We shall see when we arrive in Kent.”
Jibril wanted to drive directly to Blean Woods, but Duncan insisted on spending the night in Cambridge.
“I’m putting my foot down as the driver of this expedition or quest or whatever you want to call it,” he told Jibril. “Carys needs to rest, and she’s the hero of this whole business, isn’t she?”
Jibril nodded. “She is.”
“Then she’s getting a full meal,” Duncan growled. “Not travel center crap. She’s getting a decent shower or bath or whatever the fuck she wants, and she’s getting a good night’s sleep.” He glared over the rest of the van. “Anyone have a fucking problem with that?”
Carys felt like crying a little bit. “That sounds really great actually.”
“I have a friend in town with a house we can borrow.” Duncan looked straight at her. “I already called him.”
“Fine,” Jibril said. “But please know that according to the radio news, another fae fort just rose in Avebury that is nearly identical to the fort near Stonehenge.”
Laura raised her hand. “And the Morrígan is trending on social media again.” She glanced at Carys with a guilty expression. “I just wanted to let you know. People are starting to put Macha’s appearance together with the fae forts and all the other supernatural stuff that’s been happening.”
Jibril nodded. “She is gathering believers.”
Carys’s heart sank. “Duncan, maybe we should—”
“Deal with that in the fucking morning?” Duncan snapped. “Agreed. Because you’re getting a decent night’s sleep and a full meal.” He glared at the rest of the van. “Do we all understand?”
Cadell said, “I approve of this plan, and I am happy to physically restrain anyone who does not.”
“Thank you, dragon.”
There was nothing other than vague murmuring after that, and the van fell silent.
Jibril did, however, turn on the radio, which was full of excited clamor about current events.
“—followers of the newest social media sensation, a young woman named Matcha—”
“I believe it’s pronounced Ma-ha, Emily.
” A man with a slight Welsh accent interrupted the announcer.
“Her appearance has taken the internet by storm with brands around the world purportedly clamoring to strike deals with the young, provocative redhead. We’ll be talking later to a marketing pro. Does sex still sell?”
“In more somber news, we’ll have a report at the top of the hour about the serious uptick in road crime, Gareth.”
“Good to get more information about that, isn’t it?” The male presenter responded in a deeper voice. “And of course we’ll return to our local correspondent in Wiltshire where another extraordinary structure has risen that resembles something you might see out of a Hollywood blockbuster.”
“Is this a geological phenomenon,” the female presenter asked, “or have vandals pulled off the prank of the century? After this break, we’ll be back with geologist Dr. Avery Khan from the Royal Geographic Society to get her insight into the exciting possibilities.”
“What were you and Lachlan talking about?” Duncan was sitting at the foot of the tub, rubbing Carys’s feet as she soaked in a bath filled with lavender-scented water.
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Don’t lie. You were upset.”
“He was…” She closed her eyes. “I was just trying to be nice, and then he said he never thought about me at all before Seren died. And logically, I know that makes sense. Why would he? But for some reason it hurt.”
Duncan’s hand held her foot firm, but he stopped rubbing.
“It doesn’t matter,” she continued even though tears filled her eyes. “I don’t love him, so it doesn’t matter. I don’t even know why it upset me.”
“Because you did love him once,” Duncan said. “And you knew he’d been married and widowed, and you probably had a lot of feelings about that. It was a cruel thing to say even if it was true. And I’ve a mind to go and bash him on the head for being a brute. There’s no excuse for it.”
She pulled her foot away and scooted to the side of the tub, throwing damp arms around Duncan’s shoulders. “Why are you so good?”
He ran his hands down her back and hugged her even though she was soaking wet. “Well, it makes me look really good when Lachlan’s being an arse, doesn’t it?”
She laughed into his shoulder and blinked away her tears. “Yeah.”
“I should probably thank him for being such a royal twat.”
“He’s literally a royal twat, isn’t he?”
“He is.” Duncan kept his arms around her, and her breathing calmed. “I thought of you,” he whispered. “I didn’t even know your name, but I thought of you nearly every day.”
She turned her face into his neck and kissed it.
“I thought about what you must be like. With Seren being so fiery, I thought you might be calm and steady.” He ran a hand up and down her back. “Softhearted maybe. I worried about people hurting you. Worried that if you were as kind as Seren was mean, they might see that as weakness.”
“Was she mean?”
What are you doing in my world? It wasn’t enough to steal my husband, you had to steal my dragon too?
Seren’s words from her dream slapped Carys’s memory.
“Oh yes, she could be mean,” Duncan said. “But not for no reason. She had little patience for stupidity. She felt the weight of her role, I think. And that could make her harsh. And she was fierce about the people she loved.”
He kept stroking her back, up and down, soothing and warming her up.
“He said that you probably thought of me,” Carys whispered. “That he didn’t know why he was still alive when you realized he’d gone looking for me after Seren’s death.”
Duncan’s hand stopped, and his fingers dug into her back. “I was very angry.”
“Probably with me too.”
“Carys… it’s not important.”
She pulled away so she could look at his face. “Were you?”
“No.” His voice was harsh. “How could I be? You had no idea about any of this. Had no idea about the Shadowlands. Had no idea about Shadowkin or Brightkin or any of this at all. How could I be angry with you?”
But Carys knew he had been. Maybe he still was.
It wasn’t logical for her to resent Lachlan for not thinking about her when he was married to Seren.
It wasn’t logical for Duncan to resent her for falling in love with Lachlan when she didn’t know any of this existed.
She pulled away from Duncan and shrugged. “Sometimes feelings aren’t logical.”
“You’re tired.” His voice was rough. “You should finish your bath and go to sleep.”
And suddenly that was all she wanted to do.
Macha was lying next to Duncan on the bed, her fingers floating over his temple. “Sleep, my fine human.”
Carys sat bolt upright in bed. “What are you doing here?”
“Did you forget” —Macha climbed over Duncan’s body and crawled toward Carys on all fours— “that I am a goddess?” She shrieked the last word. “Goddess!” She shoved a finger in Carys’s face. “Mortal. Who do you think you are?”
Carys fell back on the bed as if pushed down by an invisible hand.
Her body was frozen, and tendrils of cold trickled from her nape down her spine. “You’re not real,” she whispered. “This is a dream.”
If this was real, Cadell would already be in the room. Duncan would be awake. Lachlan would be swinging a sword.
“Oh, you are dreaming, Epona’s daughter, but I’m real enough to kill you.” Macha lay next to Carys and placed a hand on her chest. She pressed her hand against Carys’s skin, and cold spread over her body; fingers of ice pierced her chest.
Carys tried to breathe but she couldn’t, and crippling pain built in her lungs.
She was swamped in darkness; all she could hear was the Morrígan whispering in her mind.
“I could kill you now because I am a god. And you are nothing but a woman.”
“Duncan.” With the last of her breath, Carys whispered his name. “Duncan.”
“He will not wake from the sleep I sent to him.” Macha leaned over Carys, studying her as if she was an interesting specimen.
“Imagine if I killed you.” Macha smiled a little.
“He would wake next to your dead body. The dragon would lose another lady. The prince would lose another love. Their grief would feed me for days.”
The darkness around her pressed in, closing off her vision until she saw nothing. She felt only dry winter cold freezing her lungs and a burning sensation at the back of her throat.
“You tamed my beautiful sea monster. You frightened my bear. And what do you have for it?” Macha continued to whisper. “Nothing. I’m still here. You have been driving in your metal carriage, chasing rabbit trails around this little island, and you… have… nothing.”
Cold lips touched Carys’s cheek, and when Macha breathed on her skin, ice cut her.
“You have nothing. Because you are nothing.” Macha sounded sad now. “They told you that you are special—you’re not. You will fight me, and that is all I will need to break open your world so that the monsters pour in. The battle will be beautiful, Carys Morgan, and it will be everything I need.”
Carys opened her mouth to speak, but her teeth started chattering.
“Look at you, poor thing.” Macha’s voice was pitying. “All you wanted was your lover back, and they drew you in, didn’t they? Epona’s machinations. The Pan’s meddling.” Macha’s cold fingers stroked Carys’s hair back from her forehead. “And all you wanted was to find your pretty man.”
The kiss that Macha brushed across Carys’s cheek was damp and cold.
“Poor little thing,” the Morrígan repeated. “You’re not capable of defeating a god. How silly of them. They needed a warrior, and instead they have you.”
Carys felt like she was dying. She saw nothing but black, and her lungs were frozen. She sensed nothing around her. Not the bed she was lying on. Not the press of Macha’s body. All she felt was cold.
It was so, so cold.
The tear that formed at Carys’s eye froze on her cheek.
“Oh, shhhhh,” Macha continued to whisper. “Poor, poor Carys.”
She wanted to die. All she wanted was for the cold to end. Moments passed, or maybe it was hours.
“Sleep, little human,” Macha murmured. “But when you wake up, remember… you cannot kill a god.”
Carys jolted awake, her hand grasping her throat as she drew in deep, warm breaths of air. She looked to her left to see Duncan still sleeping, and a clock on the mantel over the cold fireplace ticked, ticked, ticked.
Somewhere in the house, a single clock struck one.
Carys bolted for the bathroom, vomiting the dinner she’d eaten before bed.
She curled on the floor, shaking from her toes to the top of her head. Then she grabbed a damp towel hanging over the edge of the bathtub and covered her face as she sobbed.