Chapter 55
CARWYNN
I had never wanted to be lit on fire more in my life. Or better yet, have a blowtorch on hand.
My leg throbbed as my blood boiled beneath the bite mark. My body internally screamed. It was spreading, whatever venom those little fangs had punctured me with. The hellfire was migrating up my leg.
No, no, no . . .
Purple and black veins branched out of the wound, crawling up my thigh like demonic roots, implanting.
Leg numbing, I staggered back.
This wasn’t normal. I’d never heard of any spiders like this in Luckland.
“Don’t worry,” a voice crooned from farther down the path. The tone was sickeningly sweet, infused with rot. “It won’t kill you—only paralyze. Though I can’t promise it won’t hurt like a bitch the entire time.”
My head snapped up.
A woman stepped into view, long waves glowed under the moonlight. She was stunning. Her black silk dress wrapped around her like a second skin. One wrong move and her boobs would be on full display.
“What did you do to me?” I snarled, my voice as dry as gravel. I scanned the arachnids, praying they’d retreat to whichever portal of hell they came out of. They remained eerily still.
Her smile widened into a wicked curve of lipstick on her face.
“You really shouldn’t be worried about what I’m doing to you,” she said, taking a step forward. The spiders parted for her. “It’s what he’s going to do that should keep you up at night.”
My stomach plummeted.
Him? Oh god . . . the Skell King.
My legs gave out. I crumpled to the ground with my dress ballooning around me.
My heart smashed so hard against my chest I thought it might explode. Would the venom halt that too?
I sucked in a grounding breath. Trying to call on my abilities
Come on . . . come on . . .
Silence.
God damn it! This can’t be happening. Not now.
I looked down at my bare finger—the ring I’d left at home because it clashed with the dress and I was supposed to be in the safest of arms . . .
Another kind of pain lashed across my heart.
I cursed myself. I needed help.
My mouth opened to scream, then involuntarily snapped shut, invisible threads stitching it closed. A shriek turned into muffled panic. I clawed at my mouth, willing it to open, utterly terrified.
The woman tilted her head, watching me with idle amusement. Then, she let out a high-pitched giggle that sliced through the night.
“Nuh-uh,” she tsked. A finger waggled at me, taunting. “Shame you’re so pretty.” She knelt beside me as my body seized, abdomen muscles locking tight.
Her cold, corpse-like hand brushed over my cheek. Long, razor-sharp nails slowly dragged down.
“Pretty only makes me more jealous,” she whispered, mouth spasming up. “Might have to carve up that lovely little face to make myself feel better.” Dark, hollow eyes bore into mine, a snake waiting to strike.
This bitch was out of her fucking mind.
“Such fair skin,” she cooed, carving a claw down my arm, piercing flesh.
I closed my eyes, groaning. The pain seared, like scalding metal on skin.
The psycho giggled, eyes trailing over the scars on my shoulder. “What beautiful souvenirs. That was, by far, my favorite Ancient to summon.” The glittering amusement instantly wiped clean off her face to pure wrath.
Ice, sharp as a razor, scraped up my spine. Haunting images of the Dullahan, the Onchu dog—flickered to the forefront of my mind.
Shit. What the hell was she?
“We’ve only just started, pumpkin.” She leaned in, breath candy-sweet and hot on my ear. “This is child’s play. I get to visit you. Every. Single. Night” Another slash, this time across my chest. Warm blood trickled to the sweetheart neckline of my dress.
A tear slipped from the corner of my eye. I was broken inside, and my outsides were now starting to match.
So much like your mother, the phantom words resonated through my mind. I’d heard that phrase ten times over.
I thought of her—what horrors she must have survived, what demons she must’ve faced in the flesh, every day. And yet, David said she laughed straight into the face of Death . . . in the end.
Target practice, a pincushion doll, a punching bag—was that all I’d be to them?
No . . . Hair rose on my arms. I’ll be so much more . . .
The bitch invaded my space. Sinister eyes glared inches from mine.
Blood for blood, a voice rallied in my mind.
Crack! I threw my head forward, headbutting her with force.
My arms became dead weight. But that single motion, that crunch—stirred something inside me.
Yes, that’s it. Wake up!
Blondie reeled back, grabbing at her nose as blood washed over her lips.
“You’ll pay for that!” she screeched.
Her hands flew up and my throat suddenly constricted, crushing in on itself. I couldn’t breathe. Invisible fingers wrapped firmly around my neck.
Blackness started to dot my vision. My fighting heart slowed, pain fading to peace . . .
Boom!
An explosion of golden light blasted from my throat, launching her backwards.
I choked, gasping for air as my vaulted mouth released. Clarity fizzled back into my vision.
What the hell was that? I thought I was—
Heavy footsteps thundered against gravel. I lifted my head, limbs still stone, but I caught a glimpse of a cloaked figure rushing forward.
Wait, not just any cloaked figure. A hulkingly large elf of a man.
Alvar.
The hoard of spiders instantly fled, like roaches scattering from flames.
My entire being sagged with relief. A beautiful sword sparkled silver light as Alvar stood over Blondie’s body. For a moment, he stared, recognition haunting his face. With one clean swoop, he drove the bottom down.
Clunk!
The pommel slammed into her skull.
“Uh, I think she was already unconscious,” I slurred, mouth growing heavy and tongue alarmingly slow. My eyes felt like molasses dripping closed.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Alvar blurted, steely and commanding. The scar on his face deepened as his features darkened. “Open your eyes, Carwynn!”
A muffled laugh slipped my lips at the sound of his accent. Car-vin. W’s were hard for him apparently.
My brain turned to cotton, light and fuzzy. Honestly, I almost preferred it to the alternative. It sedated away all my sorrows.
“Drink,” Alvar ordered. He lifted me effortlessly into his arms, cradling me like a baby about to be fed. A glass vial touched my lips. Large fingers parted my mouth, forcing the bitter tincture down.
I gagged. It burned like vodka.
“Good,” he rumbled, neon eyes observing me.
Pins and needles lit across my body. It started at my head, then trickled down, until slowly, I felt all my extremities again.
I clutched my throat—where those decrepit, invisible hands almost took my life.
Gone. The gold choker was gone.
“Enchanted,” Alvar said, eyes narrowing. “You were smart to fuse magic into your necklace for protection.”
Protection?
“It was a gift,” I said weakly. “I didn’t—” My words broke off.
Lochlainn—he’d given it to me, encouraged me to wear it. For protection?
I wasn’t sure what to make of that.
“Then I’m glad someone else is looking out for you,” Alvar said, sliding an arm under my shoulder, pulling me to my feet. “I failed you. The fates gifted me a vision of this, but I didn’t make it in time.” That overtly masculine face cracked.
“Hey.” I poked him. “First of all, I failed myself tonight—like, multiple times over.” I held up a second finger. “And second, you didn’t fail me. You saved me. If you hadn’t shown up, I’d be a limp fish, half-way to hell.” I tried to laugh, but it came out flatlining.
Deep down, I knew my trauma hadn’t even started to settle. Hopefully it wouldn’t take a decade this time around.
“Also, you’re the hero who brought me that antivenom vodka shot,” I said, my hand drifting to my throat.
“It was my backup plan—if I couldn’t stop her before everything happened,” Alvar muttered, then let out an exhale.
I had the distinct feeling he was always this hard on himself.
“Oh okay. Correction—so not only did you rush here to save me from being a vegetable hostage, but you came with a backup plan in case shit hit the fan.” I stared him down with a disbelieving grin.
“That’s more than most would ever do for me.
So truly, thank you.” I darted my eyes away, smile fading.
“You’re the only one who didn’t fail me tonight . . .”
Alvar shifted aside. His head angled down as his brows cinched together. The scar on his face glistened like metal in moonlight. A hand suddenly engulfed mine as he lowered and took a knee.
“Say the word and my sword is yours to command.” An unbreakable gaze bore into mine. “Whose heads shall I free from their bodies?” A soft smirk hooked his mouth, the only indication he was joking.
Then, he waited.
Hold on . . . was he joking?