Episode Eighty-Two

ONE PROBLEM AT A TIME

Bran opens the gate at the back of Rita's house and I peek around the broad line of his shoulder, adrenaline shooting through my body, muscles tensed for a fight.

But it's no enemy approaching.

It's my sister.

"Oh my god. Kelly!"

I rush at her and wrap her in a hug. She smells like soap, her breath like coffee, and it's the most Kelly thing I can think of in this moment that it makes me immediately teary-eyed.

She lets out an umph , and staggers back a step before returning the hug.

"Hey," she says against my hair.

I won't cry. I don't want to cry.

"I'm so glad you're awake," I say, my voice wavering as the tears spill over.

"We came straight here," she tells me and pulls back, smoothing over my hair. "I've tried to get caught up—it sounds like you've had a wild ride while I've been…" She pauses and frowns. "Asleep."

Asleep ?! She was in a coma! But I don't want to cause her more stress, so I take a deep breath and nod and say, "There's time to catch up. But yeah, it's been a lot. I'm just so happy to see you."

There are dark shadows beneath her eyes and she looks paler than normal, even in the darkness of a new moon night. But at least she's awake.

"You didn't have to come see me," I tell her. "You should rest."

"That's what I told her," Damien says, sounding disgruntled that he wasn't obeyed.

Kelly rolls her eyes at him. At least they're right back where they started. "I can rest when my little sister is safe." She squeezes my hand. "What's first?" She glances at Rita who now stands just behind me with a large canvas bag looped over her shoulder. "It's nice to see you, Rita."

"Nice to see you too, sweetie. I heard you were knocked on pretty good by a Renshaw spell. Glad you're on your feet again."

"Me too." Kelly smiles, but the light doesn't reach her eyes. In fact, for a brief second, it's almost like she checks out, like her gaze is empty.

I try not to dwell on it. It's probably because she's tired.

Rita goes to the picnic table set in the center of a brick patio. The table is covered in a black and white checkered tablecloth with a bouquet of freshly cut flowers in the center and a flickering lantern beside it with what looks like a solar light but might actually be magic.

Rita plops the bag on the table and digs inside, pulling out three jars. Inside the first is what looks like sand, and in the other two, a dead beetle and a mottled feather.

"All items from the fae realm," she explains. "Witch magic, on its own, cannot undo fae magic. So I'll channel what I can from the items to help remove the collar. And once we remove it, we can perform the unbinding."

Bran steps beside me. His energy is putting off serious bodyguard vibes even though he knows damn well Rita would never hurt me.

I suppose getting kidnapped is reason enough for him to be on edge so I say nothing and let him do what he needs to do to feel comfortable.

Rita unscrews the jar with sand and spreads it out on the picnic table. Next comes the feather. She holds it in her hand like a quill and writes several symbols in the sand. A few of them look vaguely familiar and I wonder if they're a match to some of the tattoos on Arion's fingers or if I saw them while in the fae realm.

When she finishes, Rita looks up, the string lights highlighting her cheekbones in gold. "I'm ready if you are."

Kelly takes the place on my other side, with Damien flanking her.

I give Rita a nod. "Will it hurt?"

"Probably like hell," she admits. "I'll try to make it quick."

"Do what you have to do." I glance up at Bran. "Don't stop her. Whatever happens."

He narrows his eyes at me and says nothing.

"Do it," I tell Rita.

She unscrews the jar with the beetle, and reaches inside, capturing the dead insect in the curl of her fingers. She brings her hand to her mouth and whispers several words into it, before slamming her hand to the sand, crushing the beetle, then smashing it in with a hard twist of her palm.

I have no idea how this works, so I watch raptly, wondering when the pain will start, braced for it.

Rita keeps mumbling.

A breeze shifts through the backyard and the leaves on a large magnolia tree rasp against one another.

Rita pulls up a handful of sand and as she does, the grains start to glow bright green, the same shade as the beetle. She flattens her palm, brings it level with the collar, then sucks in a deep breath.

On her exhale, the sand lifts, swirling in the air around me and settling on the collar.

The metal heats up.

Still no pain.

Bran shifts his weight beside me.

Kelly sways on my other side.

The warmth from the metal seeps into my skin, flowing outward down my shoulders, down my arms.

It's nothing I can't tolerate. Maybe Rita was wrong and?—

Blinding searing pain shoots along my collarbone like a thousand tiny needles breaking my skin open, tearing the flesh nerve by nerve.

I cry out, knees buckling. Bran catches me around the waist, holding me upright, his own mental anguish etched into the fine lines between his dark brows.

He promised me he wouldn't stop the spell.

But right now, I almost wish he would.

The pain sinks deeper, tearing through my ribs. I squirm in Bran's grip.

The throbbing ache knots in my stomach and I have to clamp my teeth together to stop vomit from coming up.

"How much longer?" Bran asks.

Rita ignores him and takes up another handful of sand, blowing it my direction.

The pain intensifies.

I'm sobbing now, face soaked with tears.

I can't stand on my own two feet. I can't think. I can't escape. I can't do anything and?—

Kelly steps into my line of sight.

She's blurry through the tears, but I immediately know something is wrong.

Her eyes are the same deep shade of amethyst as the Queen of the Summer Court.

"Guards!" she shouts. "Guards!"

"What the fuck," Bran says.

"I should have known you'd betray my trust," Kelly says, her voice hollow and raspy. "Winter Court has no honor. Guards!"

"Fuck," Bran says. "Damien."

"I know," Damien says and swoops Kelly into his arms.

"Get off of me!" she shouts and fights him. But Kelly is no match for Damien.

"What is happening?" I manage to choke out just as another fresh wave of pain takes over making my toes curl.

"I think the Summer Queen is using Kelly as a conduit," Bran says, tightening his arm around me.

"The Renshaw spell," Damien says, bear-hugging Kelly into submission. "The link may still be open."

"Get her somewhere she can't get free," Bran orders.

"Is she…" I grit my teeth as a sharp poke starts in my ribs and blooms down to my hips. "Will she be all right?"

"One problem at a time, Mouse." Bran lifts me up. "How much longer, witch?"

Rita looks worried. "It should have come off by now. I need more fae magic."

"Baspin," Bran says quickly.

"No," I tell him, my knees buckling again.

"Yes. We're running out of time. The Summer Queen knows we've betrayed her. We need to move. Right fucking now." He drops my hand but keeps his arm locked around my waist, holding me up. He pulls his cell from his pocket and taps in a command.

The fae answers on the second ring. "Took you long enough."

"I need you here now."

"Send me the address and I will be there without delay," Baspin says, and asks no questions.

Maybe we can trust him.

Maybe I have more allies than I first thought.

I think it takes Baspin less than ten minutes to reach Rita's house, but it feels like an eternity. I clutch to Bran with everything I have, his cool skin being the only comfort as wave after wave of pain fills my bones.

The fae magic Rita had on hand wasn't enough, but the spell is deadlocked, trying to finalize itself without enough juice to do it.

By the time Baspin comes into the back garden, I'm on my knees clutching at my stomach, sweat pouring down my temples, my body trembling.

"What have you done to her?" Baspin says, anger turning his ethereal beauty even more lethal.

"Shut the fuck up and get over here," Bran orders, and Baspin scoffs but does as commanded.

Rita produces an iron blade. Baspin scowls deeper at it.

"I need your blood," she says.

With a sigh, he offers his pale hand.

The blood comes rushing to the surface the second his skin is split with the blade. He hisses but doesn't flinch.

Rita catches the blood with the last of her fae sand and blue flames ignite in her hand as she whispers several more words to the magic.

"This should do it," she says, but she sounds anxious and that makes the pain harder to bear.

I shake in Bran's grip.

The last bit of sand, now heavy and wet with Baspin's blood, is smeared over the collar.

The metal burns, sizzling my skin.

I have no control over my body anymore and I tilt my head back, screaming at the sky.

Bran sinks to the earth beside me, holding me fast to him as I flail in his arms.

"How much longer?" he asks.

"Almost done," Rita says.

The throbbing fills my joints, thrums along every muscle and tendon.

And just when I think I couldn't possibly bear it a second longer, the collar clanks open and drops to the ground.