Page 253 of Sorrow & Strangers

Climbing out of the crater my body made in the ground, I fix my avatar, rather impressed by the slash she’d rendered in it.

I accuse her of lies, and here I am the biggest lie of all. The hypocrisy is not lost on me.

I portal back to the clearing, but she’s already gone. Reaching for her, I am not surprised to find her back at her house. I focus on forming in her bedroom, but I rebound off a new barrier around her home, finding I can’t go any farther than the edge of the lawn. My brows furrow, and I press my hands against it. What is this? When did this get here?

“I may not be gifted in runes like Summer,” Alice says softly, watching me from the porch. “But she said Rafe needed somewhere safe, and she deserves a home free from stalkers as well.”

I glare at the petite vampire, noting the artifact she is spinning around her finger. Narrowing my eyes, I look closer, recognizing the artifact that shouldn’t exist. Pridwen. Or a piece of it small enough to be put into a ring. Pridwen was the shield of King Arthur. It grants the wearer the ability to create impenetrable barriers, but only in a small vicinity.

“Where did you get that?” I hiss, my eyes narrowing on her. That shield was supposed to be lost to the Isle of Apples, along with its owner.

“What does it matter? All that matters is I have it,” she says, sliding the ring fully onto her finger. “You left bruises on her.”

I can’t mask my flinch.

“That was a mistake,” she croons. “I don’t care if she forgives you. Or that she cares for you. Once you harm my best friend, there is no forgiveness from me.” Her eyes flash red, looking down at me, haughty as ever.

This is the Mistress of Bloodshed standing before me. The great lady of carnage.

“You cannot hold the barrier forever,” I snarl, feeling the give in the barrier already. The shield is only as strong as the wielder, and despite her lineage, Alice Legosi is not Arthur Pendragon.

She laughs, the discordant sound making the crows in the nearby trees take flight. “I don’t have to. Don’t you get it? Don’t you see?” she asks, her voice mocking. “I only need to hold it for one night against you.”

“Why only one night?” I ask, unease shooting down my spine.

Alice turns toward the door, then pauses to look back at me owlishly. “Because I know Summer. And I know that in this single night, she’ll have planned a way to destroy you. Permanently. Goodnight, Stalker,” she says, flipping me off before going inside and shutting the door behind her. Leaving me outside, knowing that for the first time in a long while . . .

Summer Tuatha De Daanan told the truth.

Chapter One Hundred Five

Summer

Ibrush my fingers over the ring that encircles my pointer finger. It’s a simple ring. It looks like aged, unadorned brushed steel, but it’s so much more than that. The band is crafted from the armor of Beowulf himself, and I have no idea where Alice got it. The morning after my blowup with the stranger, I was panicking because I still didn’t have a plan. No matter how hard I tried to allow the anger to fuel me, there was another emotion ousting it. Throughout the night, I felt his energy slam against the walls, trying to get in to me, and I had no idea why he couldn’t get through. It certainly wasn’t the rune I had drawn on the front door. That was only ever going to slow him down. But then Alice came into my room holding this ring, and I felt the power rippling off it. The headmaster confirmed it would work, and after a few minor enhancements, we were both confident it would keep him out. For a while.

I knock on the headmaster’s office door, feeling on edge, feeling like I’m being watched.

“Enter,” he calls, his deep voice slipping beneath the door.

I heave the door open and hurry inside. “Sir, I need help,” I say, trying to keep my breath steady.

“Help?” he asks, his silver eyes focused intently on me.

“Yes, sir, I’m being followed by a . . .” Shit, I should have planned more. Just say it, Summer. Just say you’re being followed by a faceless stalker. “Curse.” Coward.

“A curse?” He frowns and stands up, striding to one of the shelves. “Do you know the origin?”

“No. It is . . . faceless.”

The headmaster scans the wall of shelves, opening a small, intricate box, only to close it and pick up another. “A faceless curse, but I’m assuming it’s humanoid in form at least? What’s it composed of? Pure arcane? That is the most common.”

I think of the stranger, and my heart hurts, but then my neck and arm do too, and it’s nothing compared to the pain Max must be feeling. “Humanoid. Dark. Malevolent. Possessive. Dangerous.”

He stops and turns toward me, and I nearly flinch beneath the weight of his gaze. “Miss Tuatha De Daanan, how long has this been happening?”

I exhale. “Do you have something I can use to repel it?”

“I would think after last year you would come to me first with this sort of problem,” he says, the harshness of his voice matching that of his eyes.