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“You have to pick sides.” I knew it would come to this.
He nodded, staring at me with ill-disguised anger. “Yeah, thanks to you. I know where my strengths lie, and it’s not with you and your war. Rhiannon, you’re my fiancée. Kaylin—you were my friend first. Choose. Come with me and fight this war in a sane manner. Lainule and Geoffrey had a plan, and Cicely fucked it up.”
“I chose not to hand my life over to Geoffrey—I chose not to let him turn me into a monster. That is hardly fucking things up, in my opinion. But choose—by all means. If you truly believe that I should have sacrificed myself on the altar for the vampires, then go with Leo—because you won’t be of help here.”
Rhiannon, bitter tears streaking her cheeks, shook her head. “No. I stand by Cicely—Myst took my mother. And I won’t see her claim Cicely by default.”
“I can’t believe you’re choosing your cousin over me. So be it, then. But don’t come crawling back to me when you’re alone and scared. Because I won’t play second fiddle to some freak.” He turned to Kaylin. “What about you?”
Kaylin’s face clouded over. “Leo, dude, your ego’s speaking. You’d rather be a little fish in a big frying pan than a little fish in a little frying pan . . . either way, you’re going to get your fins burned.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Just this: No matter how hard you try, Geoffrey’s not going to turn you. That’s what you want, isn’t it? I’ve been watching you for some time now. You crave power, and if it takes becoming one of the vamps, you thought why not? But Geoffrey won’t turn you. And if he hasn’t offered by now, he’s not going to. With us, you aren’t skilled enough to be one of the up-front fighters—and you aren’t content with what you can do to help. You’ll never be happy until you can accept who you are.”
“Fuck that shit.” Leo turned and, jamming his coat on, headed toward the front door. “I’ll pick up my things later,” he called over his shoulder. “If you are still alive to give them to me.” Grabbing Bart’s carrier, he slammed out the front door with the Maine Coon.
“Crap.” I turned to the others. “We meet the Indigo Court outside. They’ll tear down the house if we let them in here.”
“We have another choice. We can make a run for it, move to a new location and plan out what we’re going to do.” Kaylin stopped my protest. “Before you say no, think about it: There are at least a dozen Shadow Hunters out there. They could have made a move earlier but were waiting—they were waiting for you to get home, Cicely.”
He glanced out the window. “I can’t see any of them now. But you can bet that they haven’t faded back into the forest.”
“Where would we go?” Rhiannon whispered.
But then, even as she spoke, the kitchen door slammed open and two of the Shadow Hunters broke through. At the same time, Lannan came racing through the front door, iron stakes in hand.
I was nearest the living room, and I reached out and grabbed one of the stakes from him as he passed by. He tossed the others to Kaylin, Peyton, and Rhiannon, keeping one for himself. Luna, looking horrified, grabbed up a flute, and my first thought was, You aren’t going to charm these savage beasts with music, but the sound that came out of her instrument was low and sultry and quickened my blood. I stared at her, realizing she was casting a charm over all of us—a fighting charm.
And then there was no more time to stare because one of the Shadow Hunters was staring me in the face. I swung, striking with the obsidian blade. The blade seemed to adjust my aim and I managed a clean swipe along the Shadow Hunter’s arm. He let out a shriek, unlike any I’d heard when attacking with my switchblade, and a sudden fountain of blood sprung up and began to bubble over onto the floor.
The knife made the wound worse than it normally would have. I glanced at the blade and felt a rush of joy, powerful and strong, as the pain from the Shadow Hunter raced through me and I leaned my head back and laughed, undulating a horrible yipping cry through the kitchen.
The Shadow Hunter took a long look at me as I glared at him, the power of death flushing my cheeks. I held the power to destroy in my hands. I held the power of the night and the dark and the shimmering blades that ripped out hearts and tore apart the chest. Another swipe and his arm was hanging from a thread and he went down, frothing at the mouth, shivering as the blood spilled across the floor in an orgasm of ripples.
I turned to the second Shadow Hunter, who had engaged Kaylin. He saw me swing in his direction and yelped, racing for the door. I leaped over the dying Indigo Fae and gave chase.
“Cicely!”
“Where are you going?”
The voices were faint, behind me, mere annoyances. I had my enemy within range, and nothing would stop me from destroying him. I gasped as the cold hit my lungs but flew down the steps, keeping up with the creature that raced on ahead of me. He would not escape—no one did. No one ever escaped Myst’s daughter when she chose her target.
Cicely—can you hear me? Cicely—slow down. Wait for the others!
But I didn’t want to listen. Ulean howled along beside me as the yard went by in a blur and I raced directly into the forest. My blade sang, demanding blood, and I had to feed her. She was thirsty and so was I.
And then I saw him coming toward me, a bigger member of Myst’s Court—one of her guards, no doubt. I let my body take over and instinct kicked in as I went sailing head over heels and landed nose-to-nose with him. I swept the blade across his chest before he could move, and he shrieked.
Laughing, I hoisted the iron spike in my other hand and leaned back. My blade was feeding; let it feed well, the spike would provide it with much blood. He tried to fight back, tried to wave me off, but I plunged the tip through his chest, ramming it into the bone, and blood spread across the snow like a crimson rose.
As he fell, I went down by his side and pressed my face to his wound, rubbing my cheeks in his blood. I dipped the blade into the hollow next to the spike and—as he still screamed, though much, much fainter—I let the blade feed in the steaming pool.
“Cicely!”
The voice was not Ulean’s, and harder to ignore.
“Cicely Waters, stand before your father!”
