Chapter 38
Sam’s bedroom door glared back at me, and my nails dug into my palms. All the words, the comforts I’d run through as I made my way up from Fhírinne fell flat.
I knew nothing could make this easier or better.
There were no words that could bring Roxie back.
As much as I’d begged Celine to help me find a way, nothing short of necromancy could do the trick, which was sinister, foul magic she refused to touch.
My best friend, she—she was really gone.
“Fuck,” I hissed to my chest and lifted my hand to knock on her door, tears welling in my swollen eyes yet again.
At first there was no response. But with a second knock, I heard Samantha stir inside.
The woman who answered through the cracked door was more ghost than human—all red eyes and swollen cheeks.
My heart broke.
“Sam … I—”
She dove into my arms and sobbed. No words; just the need to be held. I guided us toward the bed, still holding her tight, and set her down.
I rubbed her back. “I am so sorry.”
But sorry wasn’t enough. Not when, deep down, I knew this was my fault.
My stomach snarled as I let the tears fall alongside Sam.
Bethesda would pay for this. I’d see to it myself!
The new Ethereal magic writhed in my blood, hungry for revenge, and I promised it in the recesses of my mind that Bethesda would die by my hand.
Even if I had to kill my way through the Ancient Lores, through Misery and Frights and every hellish creature in the Shroud to get to her, so be it.
Roxie would be avenged.
When Sam’s sobs finally slowed, she met my gaze. “I—I just wish I would have known. She seemed happy. I didn’t know she was …”
My brow tensed. “Wait, they think she did this herself?”
Sam nodded, her lip quivering. “I should have seen it. Should have paid more attention to her stresses and the warning signs, I—I had no idea she was …”
“Because she fucking wasn’t!” I bit before thinking it through. “This wasn’t her, Sam.”
Her brow pinched. “What do you mean? You think … she was pushed or something?”
More like driven crazy by the Queen of Lore herself. The hideous bitch! My eyes settled back on my mourning friend, and I took her hand in mine.
“I just mean she wasn’t herself in those last moments.
” The half-truth burned in my throat. I hated it: the lying, the redirection.
But as much as I wanted to tell Sam, to be honest and put her heart at ease, I knew it wasn’t an option.
If Bethesda had reached Roxie, there was no doubt in my mind she could reach Sam too.
The thought chilled my blood. I wouldn’t let that happen … not again.
I took Sam’s face in my hands, willing the light into my fingertips until it circled around her head. While I couldn’t completely erase her pain, I could ease her stress.
“Roxie is at peace,” I said, voice shaking. “You don’t remember the details of how it all went down or hold any visceral memories of what happened to her; you just remember you were there.”
Her eyes glazed over. “I was there … but I don’t remember the details.”
“That’s right. Now, you’re going to get some peaceful sleep, okay?”
“Peaceful sleep …”
I released my hold, light funneling back into my fingers, and a spark flashed behind Sam’s eyes as if she knew I wasn’t sharing something. But, after a moment, her gaze lifted and she curled up in her bed.
“Fey, will you stay with me tonight? Please? I … I don’t want to be alone.”
I lay at her side, tucking the ruffled throw blanket over her. “Of course, I will.”
Another half-truth. Yes, I would most certainly stay with her until she’d fallen asleep.
Until I could find answers in Aislyn’s—my grimoire on how to shield her from harm.
Then, I’d do what I should have done from day one.
I’d fight. I’d strip Bethesda of everything she’d ever fucking loved.
Make her watch as I turned her allies to mush at my feet.
Then, and only then, would I slit her throat.
Six hours. Six hours I’d tried to cast a cloaking spell over Sam’s sleeping frame.
Armed with the built-in opal talisman in my chest and my newfound memories on spell wielding, I’d thought it’d be easy, like riding a bike or something.
Wrong. Time and again I’d manage to weave the light threads together, to form an elemental shield of air, drop in a few aura protection links, and then, poof.
It’d deteriorate, crumple in my hands like sand.
Every time the horrific image of Roxie—motionless and covered in blood—crawled into my mind, I replaced it with Deception’s face.
With Bethesda’s. The time for grief and mourning would come.
For now, I’d feed the anger, use it to remain sharp.
Vigilant. Deadly. Once I’d taken my revenge and seen to Bethesda’s immense suffering, then I could let myself fall apart.
My fingers flipped back to the start of my grimoire.
I had to be missing something, some important link to hold the spell together.
I turned the page, and the answer glared back at me: centering.
I forced my eyes shut and focused until my mind settled.
Then, I began to weave the spell in my mind’s eye …
until it disintegrated. Again. I growled, slamming the grimoire shut.
The day at the river came back to me: how I’d coaxed the water up around me.
It was only when I’d asked my magic for help; willed it to do what I wanted it to.
I readjusted my position—careful not to move the bed too much and wake Sam—and homed in on the hum rattling in my bones.
Help me, I called out internally. A few seconds passed without response until, finally, I heard a layered voice call back, Who, me?
I nodded in my mind’s eye, and I swear I heard a giddy laugh roll through my blood, resonating across my chest.
And so, I went through the motions again, only this time the light and air wove together naturally, the Ethereal magic acting as a sort of knitting needle.
I sighed in relief when the cloak held together: fixed, solid, silken strands smooth against my palms. Slow and steady, I laid the cloak over Sam, watching it settle. In a sudden roll, her eyes popped open.
“Shh, shh,” I whispered. “Go back to sleep, I’m here.”
A couple sleepy blinks later and she did.
With that, the cloak sank in, dissipating into her skin.
The Ethereal buzz jittered in my chest in confirmation.
It’d worked. I lay back on my pillow, relishing in the sweet satisfaction that Bethesda wouldn’t get her way.
Not now, not ever. I repeated those words over and over. Willed them to be true.
Not now, not ever. Not now, not ever. Not now, not—
My ashen willow stood stagnant in the meadow, the once vibrant flowers around it now wilted and dying.
I surveyed the scene. No Deception, no Lores, no queen; just a sad shell of what had once been my safe place.
The charred bark nipped at my fingertips, rough ashen chunks peeling off in my hand.
I sighed, when a strange glimmer caught my eye from beneath the burnt layer.
Something stirred. I leaned in closer to find a small chunk of …
of life. The flames hadn’t burnt all the way through!
I called once more to the magic inside, readied myself, and—
My omnipotent friend’s voice rang through like thunder. He’s coming!
But it was too late. I spun about and was met with the smile I’d once allowed myself to believe was kind. As he parted those lying lips, I saw only one thing: Deception.
“Hello, my love.” He scooped me up, pulling me to his chest. “It has been too long since I last held you in my arms.”
Every hair on my body stood on end. But—despite the overwhelming desire to burn his damned face off—I realized I still had an advantage.
He didn’t know about my awakening. Didn’t know about my Ethereal magic or that I’d recalled who Celine and Cillian were.
To him, I was still blissfully unaware. I could use this.
I swallowed down the acid rising in my throat and forced a smile. “I’m sorry. I’ve been on this new medicine and it’s made my sleep schedule strange. It’s like I can’t dream anymore or something.”
His nose wrinkled. “Medicine? For what, love? You are perfect!”
He slid a finger down my cheek and my toes curled. Only a monster would hear “life-changing medicine” and wrinkle their nose in disgust. Asshole. “Anxiety. It’s been … rough.”
“Why, I am sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do to help?”
Yeah, die, I wanted to say, but held it in.
Again, he swept me up in a hug, lips pressed to my neck.
Sick, disgusting, awful—my eyes settled on where my hand hung loose around the back of his neck and my ring shimmered in time.
The blessed object, a little magic still inside it. A wily smile crossed my face.
My revenge, it seemed, might not be as far off as I’d imagined it.