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I grip my boys’ hands. “Darwin, get your father. Gabe, try to open a portal and pull Lords and the professors back here. Charlie, we’re running interference. Let’s keep Klotho busy.”
The boys nod.
We rise and spread into a line with just our fingertips touching, the power of our quaternion flowing between us in showers of golden sparks.
“Fuck her up, bean,” Charlie growls from my right.
Oh, I intend to.
With so much power riding us, I don’t need to touch my Element to pull a huge stone hand out of the Earth. But this one isn’t a fist. This one wears my witchclaws. From my right, Charlie rumbles and the giant hand bursts into flame.
I slash Klotho’s bloated belly with the stone claws. She rears back from her grisly feast, trying to evade my strike, but the claws catch her lower abdomen, opening gashes that drip flame and black blood to hiss on the cobbles. Klotho screams.
The slashing claws drive her back. She stabs at the Stonefist with her front legs, stumbling on her back legs. I feel her legs penetrate the Stonefist like a phantom pain, cracking it.
Behind her, in the air above Falconer’s crumpled body, a black rent opens. Fingers of dark mist reach out of it. Something moves in the rent, and then a man steps out, followed by two more.
But it’s not Lords. Nor my professors who follow him.
My knees wobble.
My husbands smile at me. Future-Callan gives me a little wave.
Then they turn and launch a fire strike at Klotho that wreathes the Fate in flames.
“Fuck,” Charlie breathes. “I believed you about the Time-Walking, bean, but, fuck.”
I nod as I take in the battlefield.
Les is still down. Brendan’s a gout of flame at both ends of my Stonefist as he works on burning his way through. Da’s slithered over to help him, placing his burning hands on the stone fingers. The fae who stood with their House are pressed against the edge of the dome, keeping as far back from the battle as they can. I meet Phoebe’s wide, horrified eyes for a moment and grin at her, my expression probably just as deranged as Klotho’s.
Maybe she’ll rethink wanting to be Darwin’s princess now that she’s seen what it really means.
Darwin’s untangling his father from Tyr’s limp tentacles while Gabe stares at his bearded future-self. Not every day you see the man you’re going to be in a decade. I give my boy a minute.
But I can’t give him any more than that. I grab his hand and Charlie’s and pull them over to where Callan’s crumpled beside the gruesome mess that used to be his princess. I keep my eyes averted as I help Darwin pull tentacles off Callan. Charlie’s right. There are things I don’t need to see if I want to survive this with my sanity intact.
Even though Tyr’s dead, her tentacles are still stuck to Callan. Where they’re touching fabric, they come away with a rip. Where they’re stuck to his skin, they leave little bloody circles behind. Each sucker must have tiny teeth in it. Gross.
I put my hand on Callan’s chest and start healing him even as I keep tugging off tentacles with my other hand. The tentacles stuck to his head and neck slump free as the healing pushes the teeth out.
Callan’s chest rises suddenly under my palm, then falls slowly. I glance up at Darwin and see the tears that have carved tracks through the soot on his face. Not sure Callan was breathing when Darwin started pulling the tentacles off him.
“He’ll be okay,” I promise Darwin. “Get him to the edge of the dome. Gabe and I will open it for you.”
Darwin shakes his head. “Together. I’ll pull him as far away as I can, but I’m not leaving you.”
I spare a second and a fillip of power to give Darwin a warm stroke through our connection, then concentrate on finishing the healing.
When only a few tentacles remain, Darwin gets his hands under his father’s shoulders and yanks him free. He drags the Winter Prince in the direction of the Ember Palace. The opposite direction from Klotho.
Once they’re clear, I grab Gabe and Charlie’s hands again and stand. My husbands’ fire strike has driven Klotho further back, toward the huddled mass of fae. They have shaky, silvery wards up. Those aren’t going to do shite if Klotho decides to tear through them. They’re a bunch of faithless traitors, but I don’t think Callan will be best pleased if I let Klotho kill them.
Like the duel with Loyal, I need a KO.
“Time for that Hail Mary,” I tell my boys.
USE ME.
