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I didn’t have time to argue, so I raised my hands. My companions followed suit.
The shout of “all clear” echoed back through the ranks until they parted to allow the Queen through. Alexis was by her side, looking shell-shocked to see the scene in the studio. Their eyes took in the four dead mages, the canvases filled with murder, and my bloody, naked twin unconscious on the ground.
Adam came out of the closet to see what the racket was and stopped just beyond the doorway. “What the hell’s going on?”
The Queen raised a ringed finger. “What happened to you?”
Adam shook his head and blew out an annoyed breath. “If it’s all the same to you, I really don’t have the energy to explain it again.”
“And we definitely don’t have the time,” Rhea said.
The Queen’s eyes narrowed. “Mind your tone, Rhea.”
“No, you mind yours, Maeve.” The silver-haired mage rose up to her full height and infused her tone with dignity. “Now, you can get your crown in a twist and throw a tantrum because we’d rather stop a murderer than bow and scrape before you. Or you can shut the hell up and let us do what needs to be done. Either way, you will not stop us. However, if you go with plan B we will explain what’s happening on our way to the chapel.”
The Queen’s mouth fell open so wide a small family of birds could have taken nest in her maw. “Well, I never.”
“That much is clear,” Rhea said. “So what will it be?”
The Queen’s eyes narrowed. But instead of calling for Rhea’s head or whatever it is monarchs do, she scanned the room. Whatever she saw, which frankly could have been one of a thousand different damning details, must have convinced her we were more than prepared to handle the situation. Finally, she cleared her throat and nodded her head regally. “Lead the way.”
35
A chill seeped from the stone floor and up through the thin cotton pallet. Maisie’s still form lay a few feet away. Our positions brought on a wave of déjà vu. My memory flew back to another ritual space, in another town. To another night when both our lives had hung in the balance.
In New Orleans, our grandmother had chained Maisie and me to altars and then forced me to watch as Maisie fed from Adam. That moment wasn’t the beginning of our issues, but it certainly took them to a new level. The image of my sister feeding off the mage I loved was the one that haunted me every night when I closed my eyes. It was the one I dreamed about. The one that made me wake up covered in sweat and grasping desperately for Adam to reassure myself he was still alive.
And there we were, months later, lying in almost the exact same position. Only this time, there were no physical bodies to fight. Only nightmares.
My willingness to fight this battle didn’t prevent the cold sweat on my chest or the urge to jump up and run away. Gods only knew what horrors waited for me in the dreams that had become my sister’s prison.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Adam’s color was better, thanks to a potion Rhea mixed up for him. But his eyes still had shadows that I worried might never go away.
“No.” I forced a wobbly smile. “But I’m going to do it anyway.”
He caressed my cheek with his palm. “Do you remember when you said I didn’t love all of you?”
I swallowed hard against the knot of regret in my throat. “Adam—”
“Hush, let me finish.” He placed a finger over my lips. “It’s not that I don’t love the reckless, dark parts of you. They’re what make you brave and I love that about you. But the truth is they also scare the hell out of me.”
“Why?” I whispered.
“Because deep down I’ve always known the day would come when they would take you away from me.” He paused. “I thought that if I could get you to leave that part of yourself behind, you’d stay forever. But I see now I only managed to push you away sooner.”
I sat up and pressed my lips to his. My hands twined up into his hair. I tried to put a lifetime into that kiss. Just in case. “You listen to me, Adam Lazarus,” I whispered against his lips. “When I return, we’ll have plenty of adventures. Together.”
“I’m holding you to that.” He grabbed me by the chin and forced me to look in his eyes. “Come back to me.”
Emotion gathered in my throat like bile. My dry eyes stung. This wasn’t new, this sinking feeling. It was so familiar now that I knew better than to indulge it. “It’s a deal.”
Too soon, he pulled away. Retreated to the rear of the temple. His gaze held mine as Rhea moved in to begin the ritual. I was so tired of saying good-bye, maybe forever, to him. Used to be that pain involved fist to flesh or snapped bones. Physical pain. Easy pain. But now? It had been a long time since I’d had even so much as a hangnail. But the emotional pain I endured since I’d left my violent life behind hurt worse than any fist, blade, or bullet.
In the back of my brain, a faint, echoed voice—the ghostly remains of the Old Sabina—whispered insults. Old Sabina never cried. She would never be scared of a f**king dream. And she sure as shit wouldn’t volunteer to put herself in the path of a madman who knew all her secret weaknesses. Not for her sister. Not for anyone.
Rhea bent over me, bringing with her a calming herbal scent. “Try to relax.”
A shaky laugh escaped me. “Easy for you to say.” My fists wouldn’t unclench. The spot where I’d cut my palm a few moments earlier to make another blood sacrifice to Asclepius had already healed, but the skin there still burned.
“Do it anyway,” she said.
To distract myself from my fear, I focused on identifying the ingredients of the fragrant oil she dabbed on my forehead, temples, and wrists. Six months earlier, I couldn’t tell the difference between a cannabis plant and a fern. But now I called up the name and purpose of each herb in the oil by scent alone. Sharp, woody rosemary for focus and purity. Helichrysum, with its musty-sweet straw and honey scent, for unblocking the subconscious and healing old emotional wounds. Clean, light cedar wood to calm the mind and ease tension.
Giguhl sat in a half-lotus position next to me, cradling my cold hand in his claw. His eyes were closed while he waited for the rituals to be completed. Ever since I told him he’d be coming with me to the Liminal, he’d grown quiet, introspective. I guess I’d expected him to bitch and moan. But even the Mischief demon understood the gravity of our mission and felt the need to mentally prepare.
