Chapter Forty-Seven
Green fluid splattered over Val’s grinning face, staining his teeth with the taste of death.
The spider collapsed to the ground, but there was already another in its place.
No matter how many he killed, there always seemed to be more.
He was already ripping his axe from the latest carcass to meet the newest threat.
Heat flashed against his palms so suddenly he almost dropped the axe, afraid he’d set fire to the handle. No, not heat, he realized as he watched the gore staining the blade freeze into grimy crystals. Ice.
Valerian fought his own reflexes, gripping the axe handle tighter, and ignored the burning cold as he buried it into a spider. He pictured heat transferring from his skin to the ice until it melted and dripped away. Then growing hotter, building it into a full-fledged fire.
The fire spread from the axe to the spider and the creature writhed in desperation as it burned alive. Finally, it collapsed, revealing the figure in white standing behind it.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” Alistair demanded, cold fury brimming in his ice blue eyes.
“Getting your attention,” Valerian replied, climbing over the spider’s corpse with a wet crunch.
“You can’t hurt me without destroying yourself.
” Alistair gestured to the forest around them.
Several trees had collapsed against each other, the webbing in their canopies keeping them connected.
Others merrily burned in the distance. Before, the mindscape had isolated each fire in its own little clearing.
Now, Valerian’s subconscious had finally given up on protecting him.
Val cocked his head to the side as he examined Alistair. “Then leave.”
The calm words shocked Alistair. “What?”
“If you don’t want to burn, leave.” Valerian lunged for Alistair, swinging the axe with all his might. “Get the fuck out of my head!”
Alistair flung his hand out, freezing the gore-soaked ground around them. Valerian’s boots stuck in the icy mud long enough for Alistair to dodge the attack. “Or what? You can’t burn me out without killing yourself.”
Chest heaving, Val bared his teeth in a wild grin. “If that’s what it takes.”
Flames spread from his feet, melting the ice holding him. They clung to him with every step, melting Alistair’s ice as fast as he conjured it.
“You don’t want to die,” Alistair argued, as if he could convince Valerian to choose a different course of action. “You’ve clung to life through so much hardship. Every day of childhood abuse, every mission you took to scrape together a few coins. You aren’t ready to give up yet.”
“I will not”—Valerian swiped at him with the axe. It sliced through a barrier of ice, spraying water over his face. Much less satisfying than if it had been Alistair’s blood—“live as a prisoner in my own mind!”
“It is better to live a prisoner in happy memories than die miserably.”
“Says the guard on the other side of the bars.”
Alistair opened his mouth to speak, but they both cried out in pain. Alistair grabbed his head, his fingers weaving through his long hair. Sweat beaded his brow and his breath hissed through clenched teeth.
Valerian still clung to his axe even as it felt like someone stabbed a hot poker into his brain. His thoughts scrambled, chaotic images flashing before his eyes—Olivia walking out the door, the lash of a whip striking his back, Master Imus showing him a simple spell—before they crumpled to ash.
“Do you see?” Alistair seethed. “You cause yourself unnecessary pain. If you would just submit to me, this could all be over. You cannot win against me. I made you everything you are.”
The words meant nothing to Valerian. He ignored Alistair’s rambling and brought the axe down again. This time, Alistair’s ice barrier was a second too late—the axe blade sliced a bloody line across his chest before he froze it in a hunk of ice.
The sudden weight dragged the axe down until it thunked against the ground. For a second, Valerian struggled with it, trying to pry it up from the ground, before he remembered he could simply conjure a new one. Almost as soon as he let go, a clean axe appeared in his hands.
“We can’t fight like this forever.” Alistair backed away from Valerian as he talked, leading them both away from the fire. “I don’t want to rule over a pile of ashes.”
Alistair’s back almost hit one of the trees, but he stopped himself just before falling into the memory. With nowhere else to run, he only had his ice barriers to protect him.
Valerian’s axe came down hard enough to chop right through the next wall of ice, but instead of meeting flesh, it buried into the tree trunk with a solid thunk.
Alistair sprawled on the ground where he had thrown himself, smirking up at Valerian. “Are you willing to destroy him too?”
Val stared in a daze at the face reflected in the mirror park.
Penn’s lips spread in a slow, seductive smile.
He leaned against the counter, head tilted to display the column of his slender throat.
He spoke and even without immersing himself in the memory, Valerian heard Penn’s low, husky voice asking: “Are you interested in my company, Valerian?”
Valerian dropped the axe and hovered his hand over the tree, as if he could patch the wound he’d created.
Rustling sounded above him and Valerian looked up in time to see the spider lunging toward him. He dove to the side, rolled across the ground, then pushed himself to his feet. The axe lay abandoned on the ground.
Alistair had disappeared again. Now it was just Valerian, the spiders, and the flames slowly but steadily devouring his mind.
Penn’s thoughts raced frantically as he rolled Valerian’s unconscious body off him.
You can’t die yet! I need time to bring you back!
He pressed his hand and his ear against Valerian’s chest, searching for a heartbeat.
It was erratic, too fast at one point, then too slow, but it was there and that was all that mattered for now.
Penn couldn’t wait any longer, he needed to get the ingredients from Adelaide’s cottage. Should I bring Valerian with me or leave him on the bed? It would be faster to run to Adelaide’s cottage on his own, but what would happen if Val died while he was gone?
Her instructions had been clear. You’ll have five minutes and no more. Any longer than that will cause more damage than you can repair on your own.
Penn would need to know exactly when Valerian died to know how much time he had to succeed.
Decision made, he laid a quilt down on the ground, then rolled Valerian off the bed, right on top of it.
Penn had already used this method once before when Valerian passed out after rescuing him from Gavril, so he knew it worked.
At least this time I don’t have to carry him up the stairs.
The blanket slid smoothly along his wooden floors. At the front door, Penn paused, listening for Niall. The rattling and banging had stopped. Either Niall had given up for the night and gone to bed, or he’d found another way out of the room. Penn didn’t have time to worry about that now.
He shoved the front door open with his shoulder. Dragging Valerian across the grass was rougher than dragging him across the floors, and Penn winced every time the uneven ground jostled Valerian too hard, but he didn’t have any other options.
The whole journey, Penn kept an eye on Valerian’s chest. Any time it stilled, he counted seconds in his head, until he saw it rise in another shuddering breath. Blood streamed from Val’s ears now as well as his parted lips. Whatever was going on inside his head was getting worse.
Just wait to die until I’m ready, Penn silently pleaded.
He backed right up into something hard and cold.
He glanced over his shoulder, relieved to see the edge of Adelaide’s fence.
As he reached for the gate, he briefly wondered if the barrier would stop him, but his hand passed through empty air.
He undid the clasp on the gate and swung it open, then dragged Valerian through.
Her front door was locked, but Penn knew she’d hidden a spare key in a flowerpot next to the door. He dug it up and brushed off the soil before slipping it into the lock. Then he kicked the door open with one foot and dragged Val over the threshold.
Adelaide’s cottage in Castle Arn was smaller than the one in the Vorland foothills.
She usually only spent the winters here, so she could be close at hand in case someone needed a healer during the colder months.
She and Emmaline shared the larger bedroom while the other had been turned into her workroom.
Penn left Valerian in the living room, keeping him in sight, and strode toward Adelaide’s workroom. When he reached for the door handle, a shock went through his fingertips. He yanked his hand back, cursing.
Of course she’d guarded her workroom. Even if she hadn’t raised her barrier around the cottage, she would still want to keep her expensive ingredients and magical concoctions safe.
“Adelaide, please, it’s Penn,” he murmured, trying to project the thought to wherever she was.
“Please, let me in. I need to save Val.”
The lock on the door clicked and it slowly creaked open.
His heart swelled in thanks and relief. He wasn’t sure if Adelaide had actually heard him, or if the wards on her door were intelligent enough to recognize someone in need.
He slipped inside and searched the shelves. There were dozens of bottles, cloth sachets, and little wooden boxes. Everything was neatly organized in alphabetical order, with labels underneath each container.
The list of ingredients scrolled through Penn’s mind: hop-marjoram, mullein, myrhis, and powdered yew berries.
Penn plucked ingredients from the shelves one by one, placing them on her worktable.
But as he reached for the powdered yew berries, he stared in horror at the little empty cubbyhole.
It was the last ingredient he needed, the one she’d stressed was most important to make the potion work, and she didn’t have any.
He cursed and began searching the room, praying to every god he could think of—fate, fortune, love, even the god of death—that she had a spare bottle somewhere. He didn’t need much, just a pinch.
There, rolled under the bench, a little bottle.
Only half of the faded label was visible: yew be.
Sighing in relief, he snatched it up. Clinging to the sides and tucked into the bottom edges of the bottle was just a pinch of bright red powder.
He would only have one chance to make this potion properly.
Penn set the bottle on the table next to the other ingredients. When he reached for the first ingredient, his hand froze. Something was wrong—missing. Slowly, he turned his head to look into the empty hallway.
Valerian’s body was gone. All that remained was a dark puddle and bloody footprints leading out the front door.
Abandoning the potion ingredients, Penn ran to the door and was halfway out of the house when he collided with someone. Relieved, he twisted his hands in Valerian’s shirt and looked up into his eyes, not caring if they were blue or hazel or any combination, as long as he was still alive.
Only to look into Niall’s real face, bloated and blotchy red, his features twisted in fury. “What have you done with Alistair?”