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She chuckled. “Great. I’m gonna go commune with the island.”
“Yep. And you’re going to ask for whatever it is you want. And it might grant it. Or it might not. It might pop you like a water balloon, for all I know.” He made a face. “I hate it when it does that.”
“So, on the table of options are”—she started counting on her fingers—“face melting, going insane, and popping like a water balloon.”
He paused for a second to consider her list. “Imploding is also a possibility.”
Groaning, she ran a hand down her face. “Imploding.”
“Yeah. Like. Getting sucked into a singularity.” Drawing air in through his teeth to mime a shrinking sound, he pulled his fingers together into a point. “Like getting crammed through a pinhole.”
“You’re really cheering me up, you know.”
“Look, I’m just here to make sure you know the risk. I don’t want to hear you whining at me when you start hallucinating invisible farm animals running around.” He threw up his hands.
“Chances are, I’ll implode or explode, and you won’t have to deal with me whining, anyway.”
“You seem like the haunting type. I don’t want to deal with your ghost either.” He huffed. “No sense of personal space, ghosts. It’s like all manners go out the window the moment someone can walk through walls.”
She blinked. Ghosts were real too? Yeah, that made sense. “Well, the fact of the matter is, I have two reasons to try to become ‘special’ again. One, to try to stop the war between Grinn and Mordred. And two, because then maybe Mordred won’t kick me off the island for my own safety. I don’t know if I have any other choice but to take the risk.”
“I don’t blame you for wanting to try. I just want to make sure you understand that it’ll probably kill you in some horrific and gruesome manner.” Doc smiled beatifically, which made his sentence all the more obnoxious.
She fought the urge to smack him and opted to just glare at him instead.
“What?” His smile didn’t waver. “At least it’ll probably be pretty painless. Except the face-melting bit.”
“Please stop being helpful.”
“Suit yourself.” He sniffed dismissively. “I—” He froze in his tracks. “Ah, fuck.”
“What?”
He gestured his hand. A modern concrete wall appeared in the middle of the path, blocking their way ahead of him. It was like he just teleported something from Earth and plopped it into the middle of the road.
She was about to ask why when something smashed into it from the other side. Someone had hurled a projectile at them. There was a creak of wood, and vines—thick and dark with thorns the size of Gwen’s fingers—began to overgrow the wall, quickly covering the concrete.
Eod took a defensive stance in front of her, his ears flat and his hackles raised. He growled at the wall and the overgrowth.
“Hello, Lady Thorn,” Doc said dryly. “Nice to see your temperament hasn’t changed.”
A woman emerged from the thorny vines on the side closest to them, literally forming out of them. Gwen couldn’t help but stare as the thick bands of thorns smoothed and became a young woman that looked like she had been homeless for her entire life. Dirt caked her fingers and her bare feet, her toenails black from the mud. Her clothing was simple, tattered, and threadbare. Her hair was a tangled, matted mess, and her face was streaked with grime.
She looked mean.
And she was glaring right at Gwen.
Gwen took a step behind Doc, not knowing what she’d done to piss off the stranger.
“I’ve come for that one.” Lady Thorn pointed at her. “And you are going to step aside, madman.”
“Let me think.” Doc scratched the back of his head. “No.”
That was a relief at least. “Why are you after me?” Gwen frowned. “What did I do to you?”
“Nothing. But you are weak and an opportunity.” The woman grinned. She was missing a few teeth, and the others were pointed in odd directions. “I saw what happened at the battle for the keep.”
Mordred was right.
