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A life that might well be Lucian’s. God, he’d murdered my mother—how on earth was I to survive looking at his child every day and being reminded of his deed? How was that fair to the child? Or to me?
I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
The death I’d seen so long ago wasn’t the truth. I wasn’t going to die in an automotive accident. I was going to die here, underground, all alone except for a nagging sword.
My arms collapsed underneath me, and I fell face-first onto the stone. For several minutes I simply lay there, my breathing becoming more and more labored and my life leaking out through various wounds in not-so-slow rivers.
And wondered, just for an instant, where Azriel was.
Magic, Amaya spat. Stops.
It was a shame. I wouldn’t have minded seeing him just one more time . . .
No, Amaya screamed. Go not!
Must, I replied, the roar in my mind going stronger. It’s too late.
Not! she bit back; then she was in my hand. Power exploded around us, through us, merging steel and flesh with equal ferocity. It was a storm that tore my core apart, fiber by fiber, then pieced me back together, all within a matter of heartbeats.
Then it was no longer me, but we.
Die not, she said with fierce determination. Live must.
And with that, she forced my limbs into action, and I found myself crawling, slowly, painfully, past all the bloody, broken remnants of flesh toward two standing stones I hadn’t even realized existed. Only they weren’t just standing stones, but ancient, cuneiform-marked ones. Another gateway.
She kept me crawling, even though every movement had more blood pouring out and the pain was so intense I could barely even breathe. Energy washed across my skin, fierce and dark, but something was wrong with my eyesight because I could no longer see the stones, let alone tell whether they were active.
Not go! Stay!
I can’t—
She wasn’t listening. She never did, I guess. That surge of energy grew closer and closer even as my mind seemed to drift farther and farther away. It tore through me like a summer storm, sharp and electric, breaking me apart, then sweeping me away. I have no idea where it deposited me. I was no longer capable of caring.
My world was one of darkness and peace, and I smiled. Yes, I thought, I’m ready.
And not even Amaya’s howls of protest could stop me from stepping free of my soul.
Light flared all around me, light that was warm and golden and peaceful. The figure of a woman appeared, her face glowing and serene. I smiled, unsurprised that the image the reaper who’d come to escort me onward had chosen to wear was the countenance of my mother. Of everyone I knew, she was the one person I trusted utterly.
Though Azriel had come pretty close.
As my thoughts turned to him, the light around me seemed to dim. No, I thought with determination. I was ready to move on.
The reaper wearing my mother’s face smiled and offered me her hand. I hesitated and, just for a moment, thought of Tao and Ilianna, Riley and Quinn, Rhoan and his partner, Liander, and everyone else I was leaving behind. They would undoubtedly mourn my loss, but by my leaving, they could no longer be hurt by the madness that surrounded me.
And this was my chance, perhaps my only chance, to be with my mother again. I wanted that. More than anything, I wanted to see her, be with her, one more time.cian dug his phone out of his pocket, I launched myself. There was a brief flare of magic, a moment of resistance, and then I was free and running. He looked up and swore, the phone smashing to the stone floor as he brought his sword up. Steel clashed with steel, and Amaya screamed, the sound one of fury.
Magic, she screamed. Burns.
I guess it was no surprise that Lucian had a weapon prepared against Amaya, given he was well aware I never went anywhere without her.
I pivoted and lashed out with a booted foot, hitting him square in the chest and forcing him backward. He laughed—laughed!—then brought the long knife down. I jumped back but not fast enough, and the knife slashed through my boot and into flesh. The warmth of blood began to flood my boot, but I ignored it, ducked under another blow, then thrust upward with Amaya. He twisted out of her way, but not fast enough, and her sharp steel skated along his ribs, instantly drawing blood.
More, she screamed, her noise within my head and without.
Lucian’s eyebrows rose. “It talks?”
“Yeah,” I bit back, “and she’s eager to drink in your death.”
