Chapter Sixteen
Cold fear skittered up my spine like spider legs. Voss’s expression—all grim lines and tight eyes—told me everything before he even opened his mouth.
“Well?” The word came out smaller than I intended.
“The things coming through your crossing weren’t accidental,” he said. “They were sent.”
My muscles locked. Every single one. As if my body had decided that if I held perfectly still, the words would somehow unsay themselves. They didn’t. They hung in the air between us, solid and real, and my worst fear had walked right out of my nightmares and into my living room.
“Sent by who?” Owen demanded, already tense beside me.
Voss shook his head. “It’s not clear yet.”
“Same people who killed Alice?” Owen pressed, glancing at me.
The name still did that thing to me—sharp, sudden pain, like hitting a bruise I kept forgetting was there.
“Possibly,” Voss said. “Whoever it is, we need to identify them. Quickly.”
“And the… listener,” I said, trying for flippant and only half succeeding. “He wasn’t exactly here to compliment my décor.”
A grim look crossed Voss’s face. “That’s the part I don’t like.”
“Oh, good,” Tani muttered. “I was worried this might not be apocalyptic enough.”
Tani sprawled in Aunt Alice’s antique armchair like she owned it. When Voss shot her a look that could freeze vodka, she waved a hand.
Voss didn’t rise to it. “There are fractures,” he said. “Not just at your tree. Across multiple boundaries. Places that were stable are… slipping.”
“Like Faery,” Tani said, all humor gone. “Same damage. Same signature. Like someone carved a hole straight through reality.”
“Yes. Exactly.” Voss turned back to me, and I wished he wouldn’t. “Last night wasn’t a random breach. It was an assessment. A confirmation that the grimoire answered you.”
My stomach tightened. “So he came because of the book.”
“He came because you lit a signal,” Voss said. “And because whoever is pushing on the veil is looking for leverage.”
“Not a what,” Tani said softly. “A who.”
Voss’s voice dropped lower, grimmer. “Someone is doing it. Someone is prying open the seams between realms. Feeding on the strain. Using it.”
The dread in my stomach rolled, then pitched. I swallowed hard. Voss didn’t elaborate, which meant no one—not even Tani with her fairy intelligence network—knew who that someone was. Which meant we were all fumbling in the dark.
Could this someone be the one who sent the shadow-things?
And if so… why me?
“I can’t worry about that right now.”
I pressed cold fingertips against my temple and rubbed hard enough to hurt.
Because I couldn’t. I physically, mentally, emotionally could not worry about interdimensional invasions or shadowy puppet masters pulling strings.
Not when there was a crossing hemorrhaging rot in my backyard.
Not when the solution was right downstairs, purple and waiting.
“You should worry about it,” Voss said, voice sharp as a blade’s edge.
“I can’t.” The word came out harder than I meant it to. “I won’t. Right now I have to seal that crossing. I have to get the potion.”
I moved before anyone could stop me, heading for the basement door. My mind narrowed to a single point. Get the potion, get to the tree, seal the crossing. Everything else could wait.
“It won’t help, you know.”
I froze. Turned. “Why not?”
“Because the contamination is already here,” he said, and the word contamination made my stomach twist. He walked toward me with a purposeful stride that said I know things you don’t. “The rot doesn’t politely stay inside a hole once it’s been open long enough.”
“What does that mean?” My voice came out thin.
“It means,” Voss said evenly, “that after my call to the Council, I was formally assigned to this case—and I won’t be leaving until the threat has been neutralized.”
“You’re not staying here.” Owen moved instantly, stepping in front of me like it was instinct, not thought. “I won’t allow it.”
I bit back a laugh. Completely wrong moment—but, goodness it was endearing.
“There is a real threat here, sir,” Voss said, unblinking. “I have to stay and guard her.”
“I’ll protect her,” Owen shot back, crossing his arms.
“You’re not trained to guard her,” Voss countered, puffing up his chest like that was going to impress anyone.
“Oh my god,” I groaned. “Is someone about to draw a line on the floor?”
“And what about me? I’m a queen. Shouldn’t I be guarded?” Tani stuck out her bottom lip, arms crossed in mock-petulance.
“The entities aren’t hunting you,” Voss said, deadpan.
“Uncalled for,” she sniffed.
“No one is staying here,” I said, waving my hands, surrendering to the absurdity of it all. I hadn’t even wanted houseguests, and now I had a fairy queen and a testosterone parade.
“Hey!” Tani’s hands went to her hips.
I sighed. “Except you. You can stay, of course, though I’m still not entirely sure where you’ve been sleeping.” The greenhouse, probably. Or maybe she hung upside down from the rafters like a sparkly bat.
The fairy beamed. “Greenhouse. Very cozy. Excellent moonlight.”
“I’ve been ordered by the Council. I’m not leaving,” Voss said.
“Then you can stay at the town bed and breakfast.” My voice went flat. “I know Dolores. I’ll speak to her on your behalf. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get the potion and go to the tree.”
This time no one stopped me.
I bounded down the basement stairs, heart hammering against my ribs, and searched for the vial. The basement smelled of herbs and old stone. I grabbed the purple potion from the worktable, fingers tightening around the glass like it might anchor me.
Owen appeared in the doorway and stopped short. “You’re doing this.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re fine with him hovering around?”
I smiled faintly. “No. But life’s full of disappointments.”
“I don’t trust him,” he said.
“I don’t either, but I don’t have a choice. He’s not leaving, clearly. So he can stay in town—but not in my house.” I tucked the potion carefully into my pocket. “I have to get to the woods.”
His jaw tightened. “Whoever killed Alice wants you dead now. Because you’re the Guardian.”
“I know.”
“That doesn’t scare you?”
I straightened, meeting his eyes. “It scares me later. Right now? I have work.”
He studied me for a long moment, then nodded. “I’ll drive.”
Then his gaze landed on my bare feet. “Maybe shoes first, though.”
The motley crew descended on the hickory tree like a strange parade.
Voss folded himself into the extended cab of Owen’s pickup with all the dignity of an irritated linebacker. Tani rode shotgun, humming cheerfully.
I didn’t relax for a second.
Owen parked, and we all filed out.
I smelled it before I saw it—wet rot, smoke, rage. The ground at the base of the tree churned, black sludge bubbling like a wound that refused to close.
“The crossing’s compromised,” Voss muttered, already reaching for his communicator.
“No!”
I practically tackled him, knocking the device from his hands. It tumbled into the undergrowth. He stared at me like I’d lost my mind.
“Not yet,” I said. “Let me try the potion first.”
“Piper—”
“Let me try.”
He glanced toward the tree, then back at me. “Fine. But what’s wrong with the tree?” He peered at the spot where the bark had been carved away, leaving bare, vulnerable wood. “It looks sick.”
“That’s because the tree is sick. Someone’s been taking the bark.”
“And you’re telling me this now?” He groaned. “I have to tell the Council.”
This guy was seriously grinding my last nerve. “You don’t have to tell them anything yet.” The words came out in a low growl, my hand fisting. This mysterious Council could mind their own business for five minutes. I was going to fix the crossing. End of story.
Voss held up his hands in surrender.
“I’ll cover you,” Tani announced.
I glanced over and realized the fairy queen already had an arrow nocked in her bow, ready to fire—eyes suddenly all business.
Good enough for me.
I took a breath, stepped forward—and Owen’s hand caught my shoulder.
“Be careful.”
“I’m always careful.” I flashed him a crooked smile and took another step.
His hand slid from my shoulder to my elbow. He pulled me to him in one swift motion, and before I could say a word, his lips were on mine.
The kiss was fierce, possessive, claiming—staking something in front of Voss and Tani and whatever watched from the other side of the bubbling dark.
Heat flooded through me despite the fear, despite the sludge and rot and certain doom. I kissed him back with a ferocity that surprised even me, a low sound vibrating in my throat.
When he pulled back, his eyes held mine, steady and sure.
“What was that for?” My voice came out breathless.
“Luck,” he grinned.
I smiled back—couldn’t help it—then turned toward the tree.
I pulled the cork from the vial and stepped up to the black sludge, its reek making my eyes water and my stomach pitch.
Without wasting another second, I poured the purple concoction over it.
A hissing sound erupted where liquid met mire. The bubbles stopped. All of them. At once.
I stepped back toward my friends, hope surging in my chest. Steam rose from the muck, curling upward toward the canopy of leaves overhead. The bubbling ceased entirely. The air lightened a fraction.
I’d done it. The crossing was sealed.
“Take that!” The words burst out of me, bright and triumphant.
But the peace lasted only a heartbeat.
The bubbles started again.
Steam rose again, thicker now, darker. The ground shuddered beneath my shoes.
And then a massive shadow-thing dragged itself up from the base of the tree—writhing and furious, its body made of darkness with too many angles, its eyes glowing like coals in the wrong place.
I swallowed.
“Okay,” I muttered, fingers tightening around the empty vial. “So… plan B?”