Chapter 82
Hours dripped by, leaking from the dark rock ceiling as I untied knot after knot. My arms were laced with fatigue like it had been sewn into my sinew.
The malevolent creature behind the rock walls scraped at the weakening locks. The pressure of its impatience clamped tightly around my chest. It hurt to breathe the scalding underground air.
It had been poking at me for hours. Its hateful tendrils slipped through the newly formed cracks and tested the sizzling riot of my blood. Its bites felt like the sting of a scorpion. After, it would yank back and watch me from its locked dungeon.
Somehow, Last was completely unaware of the creature’s presence. It didn’t bite or sting or push at her. She lay on the bone shelf, her knees up, cooling herself with a fan she’d conjured.
“Are you nearly done?” she asked.
“Nearly.”
I’d almost unraveled the entire medieval forest of locks. There was only a thin strip of knots holding the monster back.
Sweat dripped down my neck, and I wiped my arm across my forehead.
“When you’re close, we’ll get Primus and my father. They wanted to see it released. They’re just in the . . .” She cocked her head and sat up. “What’s that?”
There was a grumbling, scratching, shrieking noise. At first, it sounded like a scrambling mouse being crushed in an eagle’s talons and its death shriek as it was devoured, but then, the noise settled into the steady, rolling scrape and scuff of someone’s even gait.
Last hopped from the rocky shelf. Bones scattered, rattling loudly as they rolled across the ground. She dusted herself off and smoothed down her messy, knotted hair. She turned to face the dark tunnel, the cold smile she reserved for family pasted on.
I stopped untying knots and cast a worried glance as the creature’s malevolent pressure quieted. It drew back into its prison, listening and watching.
Up the slope of the dark tunnel, a soft blue light appeared. Behind the glow was a tall, dark figure obscured by the light.
“Someone’s coming.”
I wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans.
It wasn’t Primus—this man’s walk was too loose and carefree. It wasn’t the Clark—this man was too tall and muscled. It wasn’t Jacob—my brother was slighter and had a different way of moving.
No. Even without the sudden whistled song echoing in the stone tunnel, I’d know who was making his way down into the dark.
Last stiffened at a jauntily whistled trill.
Her eyes narrowed into two angry slits. Her mouth flattened and turned white at the edges.
Then, just as quickly as the anger came on, she tossed her head high and swept it away.
She twisted her hand and conjured a spidery black dress and wrapped her long hair into coils on top of her head.
She didn’t look angry anymore—she looked terrifying.
Luvic whistled a refrain and then paused, waiting for the faint echo. He chuckled at the echo and the slow, eerie scrape. He whistled three short bursts, and then the monster tapped three times back.
He made a surprised sound and then strode into the rocky, bone-lined chamber. If he was surprised to see Last, he didn’t show it.
He looked better than when I’d left him. He was still tired, gray, and pale, but there was a spark glowing in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He was buzzing with a hopeful energy that bounced like a rubber ball around the stone room.
When he looked at me, there was a small smile hiding at the edges of his mouth. My heart rolled and then thumped, and I swallowed the painful bumping in my chest.
He turned away from Last, moving his face into the shadows, and then . . . he winked.
It was only half a wink. Barely-there. But still recognizable.
My breath caught.
What was this?
“Husband,” Last said, her voice dripping with venom, “what are you doing here?”
Luvic turned his full attention on Last. The blue light hovering in front of him flared and glowed brighter, lighting up his Bard beauty. He gave her his brilliant Bard smile. Not many people could look into that storm of magnetic power and not fall at least half in love.
I’d always been immune, because Luvic was my friend, and I already loved him. His Bard magnetism, his Bard smile, couldn’t make me love him any more or any less.
Last scowled. Maybe she was immune, because she hated Luvic, and his magnetic Bard beauty only made her hate him more.
Luvic’s smile shone brighter at Last’s scowl. He gently pressed his hand over his heart and said, “Looking for you, of course. You’re my wife. Why else would I be here?”
Last crossed her arms over her chest. “I see you’re feeling better.”
Luvic rubbed his hand over his heart. “Much.”
“Too bad.”
“Really?”
“What gave you the impression I cared about your well-being?”
Luvic lifted an eyebrow. “Our wedding vows?”
Last snorted.
Luvic’s smile brightened.
“We have unfinished business,” Last said.
“You’re right.”
Last tilted her head, seeming confused by the confident, happy spark dancing in Luvic’s eyes. It wasn’t the look of a man who was upset about his lot in life. He seemed entirely happy and entirely content.
Finally, Last scoffed, dismissing Luvic’s smile. “Bard,” she said as if it were a curse.
Luvic nodded. “You’re a Bard now too, you know.”
Last’s expression hardened. She stared at him like she owned him and could do anything she wanted to him.
I repressed a shiver.
“Luvic,” she said.
His eyebrows rose, and I looked at her in surprise. She never said his name. She smiled at him and reached out to gently brush her thin hand across his cheek. He took a single step back, leaving her hand to brush hot air.
She laughed. Then, closing her hand into a fist, she leaned close and whispered, “I always get what I want. One way or another. I thought we might be friends. I thought we might make this easy. Isn’t that what you wanted? Easy?”
Luvic scratched his chin and frowned. “Who wants easy when they can have hard?”
I held back a smile and turned my head away from them.
Last hissed, and then Luvic said, cool and crisp, “Your brother asked for you. Hmm. Ten minutes ago. Fifteen? Run along, wife. He’s waiting. He’s impatient. He’s . . . Primus.”
Last stared at Luvic like she couldn’t quite follow the turn in conversation.
Luvic flicked his hand. “Go,” he said. “Run. He’s angry.”
Last blinked and then shuddered. Then she grabbed her dress in her fists, lifted the hem, and hurried from the chamber.
Luvic and I stood in silence, waiting for the hard clatter of her heels to fade.
When they did, I whispered, “Did Primus really ask for her?”
The carefree smile was wiped free from Luvic’s face, and the bouncy-ball energy popped. He stepped forward and gripped my arms. “Can you help me if I ask for it?”
“What?”
His expression was so ruthlessly intent I almost didn’t recognize him. His fingers dug bruisingly into my arms.
“If I ask you to break an illusion, will you? Or are you so bound by Jagger’s will—”
“I . . . I . . .” I pulled free of his tight grip. “I don’t know. What sort of illusion? If it doesn’t harm me, and if it isn’t against Jagger’s will, then . . .”
I stopped. I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure.
Who knew what the dark tangle and coil of Jagger’s hate would have me do?
Luvic pulled in a breath and dragged his hand through his hair. “If you turn on her, Mari. If you harm her, so help me, I’ll slaughter you. I will kill you.”
“Harm who?” I asked, frowning.
A small, quiet chirp sounded.
Luvic pressed his hand to his pocket. The noise sounded again—this time more insistent.
My eyes widened. “Is that the cricket?”
Luvic swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Then he nodded.
The cricket chirped and started a high-pitched song.
A cold chill swept over me, chasing away the scalding heat.
I had a premonition of what Luvic was about to say.
It was the memory of Last talking about her pet cricket—the way she’d said she’d given Cora a home, food, a place to sing.
But most of all, it was the ruthlessly intent “I’ll do anything for her, even die” look on Luvic’s face that sealed it.
“The cricket’s Cora,” I said.
Luvic’s upper lip curled. “Will you try to hurt her?”
I didn’t deny it right away. How could I? Instead, I searched myself. There was the heat, the always present pain, the push of hate, Jagger’s will . . . but . . .
“No,” I said. “I won’t hurt her.”
There was nothing there telling me to harm Cora. At least, nothing more than the usual push to harm all living things.
Luvic nodded, and watching me carefully, he slowly lifted the cricket from his pocket.
It was smaller than I’d initially thought. Chestnut-brown and glossy, with long forewings and bright black eyes. It looked nothing like Cora. It looked like a cricket. It sang like a cricket. It . . .
“It’s not illusion,” I said, frowning.
I studied the insect. Cora. I leaned close and peered at it.
“Are you sure it’s her? There’s no illusion here. None. It might just be a cricket. Maybe you’re only hoping and seeing what you want—”
I was cut off as a low jackaltooth rattle filled the chamber.
“I’m sure,” Luvic growled. When I lifted an eyebrow, he said more firmly, his jaw hard, “I’m sure.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “All right. I believe you. But it’s not illusion. Can’t you tell?”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t feel any, but I hoped it was only a small knot.”
I made a negative sound. “No. Did you ask?”
“What?”
“Did you ask her what was done?”
Luvic stared at me for a moment and then swore. “No. I didn’t. I didn’t think past you breaking the illusion on her.”
“Cora.” I held my palm next to Luvic’s. “Can she understand us?” I asked him, and when he nodded, I continued. “If Last used illusion, climb into my hand.”
The cricket didn’t move.
I nodded. “If Last used an object of power, climb into my hand.”
She still didn’t move. Her legs trembled, and she crouched low in Luvic’s palm.
“If Last forced you to drink something, climb into my hand.”
Cora sprang across the distance and landed on my palm. Her feet tickled, and I smiled as Luvic sucked in a surprised breath.
“Okay,” I said. “That narrows it down.”
“A poison?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to ask Rou. She knows more about—”
“Primus did not ask for me, Bard!”
Luvic grabbed Cora and dropped her into his pocket, turning swiftly, right before Last descended on us.
“How dare you lie to me? How dare you play with me? All your life, people have fallen over themselves to please you. They laugh at your jokes and your games. Oh dear, Luvic is so clever. So fun. This.” She jabbed her finger into his chest. “Was.” Another jab. “Not.” Again. “Funny.”
I frowned at Last’s appearance. She was even more pale than usual. There was grime on her newly conjured dress, and the undersides of her nails were lined with dirt.
What happened?
Luvic gave her a twinkling grin. “It was a little funny.”
“No.”
He made a noise and held his fingers an inch apart. “A little.”
“You are going to learn—” She twisted her hand, opening a vault of lava beneath him. He dove to the right.
I yanked the knots free, collapsing the pit. “Last!”
Luvic jumped to the left as Last threw a dozen stone spikes at him. They smashed against the wall. She conjured a giant rock fist and slammed it at him. I pulled every knot loose. The fist disappeared an inch away from him.
He didn’t conjure back. He only stared at her, with a wrinkle between his brow. “Did he hurt you?” he asked, jumping as Last opened the ground again.
“What do you care?”
He conjured a wave to swipe aside the morningstar flying at his head.
“You’re my wife,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I have to care.”
Last blinked and dropped the magma rocks she’d conjured. They smacked the floor, and I hastily untied them.
“You care?”
Luvic’s jaw clenched. “Did he hurt you?”
“You do care.” She didn’t sound happy. Instead, she sounded appalled.
Then the look on her face twisted from surprise to malicious amusement.
I could see the thoughts ticking through her mind.
If Luvic cared, she could use him. If he cared, she could manipulate him.
If he cared, then he might eventually love.
Disgust tripped over her expression. “You care.”
Luvic’s expression hardened. “Against my will.”
“Oh. That’s the best kind.”
“Did Primus hurt you?”
She waved her hand. “Who cares? What I want to know is . . . what sort of things will you do for me? For someone you care about?”
“Last,” I said, glancing at the cracks spreading over the rock.
“Shh,” she said.
“Luvic . . .” I pointed to the wall.
The rock groaned, and a million cracks spread. It looked like a window that had been hit by a bat. One touch, and all the cracked glass would shatter.
“What is that?” Luvic asked.
With all Last’s conjuring, I’d untied every knot in the area. Apparently, I’d also untied most of the prison’s remaining knots. The thin line had become a shoestring.
“It’s the Clarks’ monster,” I whispered. “The one that devours. I think it’s about to break free.”
A noise as loud as a steel column hitting rock thundered through the chamber. The walls shook, and the floor vibrated. I covered my head as grime and gravel rained down. Then I covered my ears. A giant, horrifying wail ripped through the catacombs. The hunger and hate of it tore through my bones.
Luvic swore. He looked at me, and I knew he remembered the monster who’d caused my second death. He’d never seen it, but he’d tasted my terror.
An explosion blasted the rocks free. Luvic threw out his hands, conjuring a shield of water. Last thrust a wall of mud to slow the shrapnel. I ducked, dodging the jagged stones that flew through the shields.
When I looked up, I was standing at the edge of a gaping, ten-foot-tall mouth of absolute darkness.
I was wrong.
All those years, I’d thought I’d known what lived in the Clarks’ catacombs.
I’d thought I’d seen its hunger, its madness, its evil.
I’d been wrong.
I’d only seen the unhatched larva. The tiny, mindless, hungry worm that searched for food and went back to its mother.
The monster I’d been terrified of for nearly my whole life was a weak gray dusk compared to the midnight darkness that stood before me.
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t—
The monster swarmed, intent on swallowing me whole.
“Run!” Last screamed.
Luvic grabbed me and shoved me ahead of him.
We ran.