Chapter 20

20

T he door to Mary King's Close swung ominously in the winter wind, creaking on rusted hinges. Swallowing hard, I edged forward and peered down the dark alley. At one point in time, the close had been open to the public. You could descend into the depths of the ancient, smothered streets and take a look around. Now two large double doors blocked the way.

Or they normally did, anyway.

Right now, they were swinging on their hinges.

The team was meeting me here in twenty minutes. Imogen had shot me a text to say they were getting suited up for a fight, and they were having trouble finding all of their weapons. The Cauldron Tossers had stolen some, apparently.

Before I'd left the castle, I'd placed a note on the bookshelf, just in case Uisnech showed up to check on the spear. I didn't want the little guy to freak out when he found the king—and his special weapon—missing in action. I still hadn't been able to get ahold of him, the team were running late, and I was all alone down here with Lugh's gleaming spear catching the attention of everyone who passed by.

Taking another glance behind me, I ducked into the gloomy alley and edged the door shut with my boot. I could take a quick look around. From what I knew about the close, it was a maze that could take several hours to fully explore, so I might as well do a quick scout ahead to see what I could find.

I headed for the shadowy staircase that led me down to a street with no sky. Gloom quickly surrounded me, the only sound the distant drip of water on stone. The stone walls rose high on either side of me, angling together at the top. Between them hung old scraps of dull brown laundry. Part of the tour, a demonstration of what life must have been like centuries ago.

The stench of sewage and dust swirled into my nose as I crept along the tunnelled street. I passed boarded-up windows in buildings that would have been home to businesses that had tried to survive in the once bustling market. Fabric merchants, tobacco shops, restaurants. None of that was here anymore.

The street sloped upward, and I ducked through an archway where several low-ceilinged rooms led to the next street. In my hand, the spear began to hum, and I stopped short, heart racing.

The spear continued to buzz against my fingers, and the golden rivets sparked with light. Biting the insides of my cheeks, I peered around the stone archway that led to the following street. There, in the distance, a faint light splashed onto the ground. It was the only light in the close other than the now-gleaming spear I carried with me.

That must be where the fae were hiding out.

Taking a deep breath, I tiptoed across the room and braced my back against the next wall. I waited, counting to ten in case they'd spotted me. When no one lurched out of the darkness, I did the same again. Peer, prance, hide.

Finally, I had nowhere else to go but into the middle of the street ahead. I closed my eyes and called upon all the courage I had inside of me. I didn't want to take on these fae alone, but I had to be sure that Lugh was here. Then the warrior team and I could make a solid plan of attack.

I leaned the spear against the wall so that it wouldn't give away my position. And then I inched my way into the street, doing my best to hug the shadows.

Slowly, I crept closer to the light. It was coming from a window on the ground floor, two buildings down. My boots scuffed against the ancient street as I edged ever closer. When I reached the building without incident, I pressed my back against the wall and ducked my head to look inside.

My eyes darted around. It was some kind of stop for the tour. There was an ancient glass-blowing display in the center, and long shelves of delicate glass hung along the walls.

And there they were. All of them. Eight fae dressed in black leather—we'd taken out a few already so this must be who was left. None of them wore masks, but I didn't recognise them. They were surrounding two forms hanging from the ceiling by rattling chains. My heart leapt into my throat. I'd found Saoirse and Lugh.

They both looked like they'd been through hell and back. Deep gashes slashed across their bodies and faces. Purple splotches circled red-tinged eyes. My hands clenched, and I swallowed a vicious growl.

How dare they .

The mating bond snapped tight, and Lugh's head suddenly jerked up. He met my eyes through the grimy window, his dark irises churning with dread. Frowning, he gave a quick shake of his head.

Unfortunately, that caused two problems. The first problem was this: I had no idea what he was shaking his head at. My presence here? Maybe. The fact I'd sauntered into the depths of Mary King's Close without any backup? Probably. The understanding that I was about to do something very, very stupid? Most definitely.

The second problem was...one of the Cauldron Tossers noticed Lugh's head shake and turned to stare right at me.

The black-clad male gave a shout, and the rest of the enemies whipped my way. Well, there went my element of surprise. Three of them grabbed their swords from where they'd propped them against the wall and charged toward me.

Fortunately—because it wasn't all bad, just ninety percent—I was ready for them. I unsheathed my sword and swung hard at the first opponent to rush my way. The blade slashed right through his chest, killing him instantly. A part of me felt terrible for what I'd done, but then I saw Lugh hanging from chains out of the corner of my eye, one end wrapped tightly around his throat, and I didn't feel so terrible anymore.

The next two attackers came at me simultaneously. They swung in unison, which made their blows easy to dodge. I ducked low and then spun onto my back, holding my sword straight up. They both stumbled back, unsure of how to respond. And then I whirled to the side, slashing one right in the shin.

The enemy dropped his sword and hobbled back. "I surrender. Please don't kill me."

I grinned and jumped up, eyeing the second. He narrowed his eyes, but then his gaze flicked to his fallen comrade. His sword clattered to the stone. "Yeah, I think I'm good."

He rushed over to his friend and helped him hobble down the close.

Rolling back my shoulders, I strode through the open doorway where four more enemies blocked my path to Lugh and Saoirse. Behind them, the female leader, Fiona, flipped through a book and muttered to herself while waving her hands over a cauldron.

Gundestrup's Cauldron . My stomach flipped as I stared at it. The silver bowl-shaped vessel was probably as tall as my knees and just as wide. The sides were covered in six or seven uneven panels that were carved with images of animals and Celtic symbols. Its magic hummed, creating a strange, eerie song that caused tears to sting my eyes.

Fiona snapped the book shut, and then turned to me. She no longer wore a mask, and her brilliant blue eyes swept across me, smugness curving up her thin lips. She had yellow hair, kind of like mine, but it was dull and ashy instead of golden. "Look who it is. The mate of the nightmare wraith."

At the words nightmare wraith , my stomach dropped through the floor. Images of hooded figures flashed through my mind. Hands pinning me down, horrific screams ripping from my throat. I tightened my grip on my sword.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Which was honest. I didn't. Sure, I was Lugh's mate, but what did that have to do with nightmare wraiths? Those creatures of darkness and pain hadn't been seen in this realm for centuries, save for once. Most of them had never even come through the portal. They'd stayed in Faerie, according to legends.

"Your precious mate is a nightmare wraith," Fiona sneered, striding toward me. "Or did he not tell you?"

I flicked my eyes toward Lugh, who was avoiding my gaze. He kept his own eyes locked on his feet instead. Confusion rippled through me, as well as a heavy dose of fear. "Lugh is not a nightmare wraith."

Nightmare wraiths were creatures of the night, spectres of evil. They didn't have souls, and they didn't care about anything but feeding on the fear of everyone else. They chased you down, pinned you, and squatted on top, pouring horrifying images into your head.

They'd done it to me, once. When I'd been just a fae child, some nightmare wraiths had gone on a spree through the English countryside, terrorising everyone they met. It was the most horrifying thing that had ever happened to me, and I still had nightmares about them to this day.

But they'd been stopped. And none had been seen in this realm since.

"Oi, prophecy girl," Fiona snapped. "Tell the sword master the truth."

Saoirse sagged against her chains and sighed. "It's true, Moira, in a way. Lugh was once a nightmare wraith. In fact, he was the commander of an entire clan of them. Uisnech...helped him. He found a way to give Lugh a real life. But nightmare wraiths cannot have souls, so it couldn't reside in his own body. Uisnech found a way to put the soul in the spear and link the two of them together."

Shock hit me square in the gut. I stumbled backward, my mouth opening with soundless protests. This couldn't be real. It was some kind of trick, another trap to distract us from the truth.

But Fiona hadn't been the one to speak those words out loud.

Saoirse had. And Lugh was doing nothing to rebuke her.

"Lugh," I whispered as tears burned my eyes. I glanced across his face. That strong, fierce jaw. His cheekbones as high as the sky. The silken strands of midnight blue hair. He did not look like a nightmare wraith at all. "Is this true?"

"I tried to tell you earlier," he said tiredly. "I thought you would run screaming from me when you found out the truth. But it turns out, I didn't even have to tell you about my past to get you running."

Guilt tripped through me, even as horror churned in my gut.

Lugh— my Lugh—was a nightmare wraith.

"So, you terrorised people?" I stepped back toward the door. "You filled their minds with death and gore and horror? You fed on them?"

"Not since I've had my soul." He slumped even further against his bonds. "Not since Uisnech saved me."

Now it all truly did make sense. Why he felt such a bond with the little hobgoblin. Why he'd made his Court the way he had. Why he felt the need to hide and save others that were lost. He was a fae—the nightmare wraiths were very much fae, but a different kind than the ones who were part of the Court—but he was one of the deadliest alive.

"So now you see why it's acceptable for his life to be a sacrifice for the greater good," Fiona said, cutting through my wheeling thoughts. "The magic of a wraith is powerful, particularly one who has been bound with a soul. We were going to use his spear to spark the magic of the cauldron, but that proved difficult to find."

My gut clenched, and my head shot up. "You want the spear instead of Lugh? I'll give it to you."

"No," Lugh growled, finally looking up to meet my eyes. "If they destroy the spear, I'll lose my soul. It's the only thing binding me to who I am now."

My heart thundered.

"And if I lose my soul," he continued, "I'll be the commander of wraiths once again. I won't be able to stop myself from ordering them to flee from Faerie and swarm this realm. I will want them to feed on everyone who lives here. Because I won't be me anymore. I won't be Lugh."

My entire body shuddered in response to his words. I'd faced a lot of things in my long life. The walking dead, vampires who wanted to rip me to shreds, murderous psychopaths who wanted to bury me alive. But his words sent a new terror through my soul.

If he brought the nightmare wraiths out of Faerie, they would swarm this realm and feast on every last human alive. No one would be safe.

Fiona clasped her hands together. "Oh dear. Looks like we really do need to sacrifice Lugh."

"No!" I sprang into action. Sword whirling, I aimed my attack right at her head. Her bodyguards jumped into place, and one of them took the hit instead. The male fell, blood spraying onto my black trousers.

Grimacing, I turned to the next. They all rushed me, and my instincts took over. I sliced to the right, and the next one fell. Another lurched toward me, and I ducked low. When he was busy recovering from his attempt, I lunged forward. The blade sank into his chest.

Two more were left, not including Fiona, who was back to muttering at the cauldron again. She'd grabbed a small dagger and was slicing it through the air in some kind of pattern. It was a ritual, one that obviously required blood and deep, dark magic. She was two seconds away from sacrificing Lugh, and I had to stop her.

Without pausing a beat, I dropped my sword. My hands slung toward my hidden blades. I grabbed two in one hand, and one in the other. Closing my eyes, I let my magic pour through my veins. I could feel my enemy's weapons whistling closer.

And then I threw.

The two in my left hand sank into the bodyguards.

And the one in my right slammed right into Fiona's neck.

They all fell. Blood painted the floor.

The sight of it made me sick, and my stomach turned. But I shook off my dread and rushed over to Saoirse and Lugh. Within seconds, I'd undone their chains. Lugh's dark eyes met mine, and my entire body hummed with the need to launch into his arms.

But then something sounded from behind me.

Lugh's entire body went rigid. His eyes darkened. A growl slipped from his throat.

I turned. One of the enemies who'd fled was back.

And he had Lugh's spear.