Chapter 15

Chapter

Fifteen

LAURENT

" S ay that again," Laurent purred, nuzzling Winnie's neck.

"Why?" she huffed, pulling away just enough to look at him where they lay tangled in the sheets.

"Because I liked it."

Her perfect, porcelain face broke into the smile that set his soul aflame. She sat up, holding the thin sheet to her chest. Preening, she lifted her chin. "You, oh powerful Cirque Master, were right. I did sleep better."

Pulling her back down, Laurent chuckled and tucked her head into the hollow where his chest met his shoulder—the place where she fit perfectly.

He hadn't told her he was fucking terrified of the eclipse. Of facing Chresedia. Not after his show of fearlessness when Seleste had come, raving mad at them.

It wasn't so much that he feared Chresedia , which he did in a way, after all she'd put him through. But he knew what she was capable of. There was so much to lose now. There always had been. Hades, she'd cost him his Wendy before. But now? Seleste was right. There would be no leaving unscathed, no matter how trained the Druids were. No matter how powerful the Sisters and the reaper were.

"What are you thinking about?" Winnie looked up at him, and he forced his smile to be carefree—the light she craved, deserved.

" Crépes ."

She laughed, his favourite sound in all the realms, and smacked his chest. Unfortunately, her next move was to leave his side and begin dressing. Laurent crossed his arms behind his head and watched with no small amount of pleasure as she slowly slipped into her pale riding pants, her small, perky breasts bouncing as she wiggled the pants up and over her hips.

She was putting on a show for him, considering she usually used her magic to dress herself, and he used his to un dress her. But this…this was nice.

Next came her supple leather boots, pulled on one at a time, then the holster strapped to her thigh, and her dagger slid into its place. Leaving her tunic and jerkin for last—for his benefit, he was sure—she finally covered herself fully and he missed her already.

A light, contented smile sat on her lips as she set to weaving her white-blonde locks into a braid over one shoulder. He wondered how long that smile would last. How long their little slice of perfection could possibly remain. Any day now, their world could change forever.

The peal of a conch careened through the camp, and Winnie locked eyes with Laurent. Immediately, he was up, clothes snapping into place. Without a word, they both set their faces like stone and took up their weapons. A breath later, they were tearing through camp, all the other Druids darting out of their tents. In a swarm, they ran toward the call of the conch.

Dread thickened the air, seeping through Laurent's pores, and settling down in his gut. Breaking through the throng, the first thing he saw was Tomás battered and bloodied, but holding his own.

Holding his own against six robed figures and?—

"Oh, gods," someone near him breathed, a hand going to her mouth as she halted.

This was unexpected.

Each robed man held a chain as thick as Laurent's forearm. At the end of them were six undead creatures, pulling at the iron binding their necks. They were nothing he'd ever seen before and everything the reaper had described with their death-pallor skin, sickly ashen and grey. Their soulless black eye sockets, and beast-like movements.

Convulsing, they snarled, their masters yanking them back from Tomás, just a hair before they would have clawed his face with too-mortal nails.

In that split moment of calculation, Laurent made too many choices to count. Not the least of which was drawing these bastards away from his troupe.

"Oy!" he bellowed, bounding forward to pick up the conch shell at Tomás' feet, effectively gaining all their attention. The beasts hissed at him, spittle flying from their rotted corpse mouths. He drew his axe, crouching on the balls of his feet, ready. The rest of his troupe awaited his command. Their hands twitched towards their weapons but they held steady. "I take it you're looking for a certain quill then, ye?"

One of the robed figures glided forward as if his feet were floating above the ground. "Give it to ussss," he hissed, "or we'll kill every one of your little Elven half-breeds."

Out of the corner of his eye, Laurent saw Winnie slip past Tomás and into the tent, mouthing stall .

"You Order fuckers really don't understand that ‘no' is a complete sentence." He dropped one hand behind him, signalling with his fingers for his troupe to hold. "This ought to be fun, then."

He flashed the Acolytes a wicked grin before he zipped into the woods at inhuman speed, three of them and their beasts following swiftly behind.

Fuck . That meant half of them remained at the camp, and his troupe would have to take care of them.

Dodging and weaving, they began to stumble after him through the thick brush, unable to keep up with his blurred movements. He could hear the snarls of the creatures as they ran at him with savage strength. Whatever Chresedia had done to these undead beasts, it was sick.

One of the monsters ripped free of his master, nipping at Laurent's heels and clawing at his back. A searing pain shot through his shoulder as the creature's nails made contact, slowing Laurent down. Snarling with as much venom as the beast, he whirled on it, axe swinging.

Missing by only a hair, the momentum of its trajectory caught him off balance, and the creature swiped again. Dodging, Laurent recovered, grabbing at the iron chain trailing behind it. Wrapping it around his forearm and tightening his grip via magic, Laurent began to back slowly away. The creature stalked him, the Acolytes and two other beasts closing in on him and their escaped monster.

Good .

With a flick of his wrist, a ripple went through the chain, knocking into the creature's chin and pulling its iron collar taut. It snarled, digging its mortal, rotting knuckles into the dry bramble of the forest floor. As it readied on its haunches, so did Laurent.

"Come on, fucker. Make my day."

The creature charged and Laurent bared his teeth, shooting forward with strength not meant for this realm. A warcry thundered out of him as he leapt up and over the creature's head, swinging his axe as he twisted. Black blood splattered his tunic, his hands, his face, but the blade hadn't sliced clean through. Slowed but not beaten, the beast twisted around to face him, the axe embedded in its neck, the smell of its blood putrid.

Veins of Laurent's power, that same shade of power gifted to his Elven ancestors through Lord Night's lineage, shot out, one wrapping around the hilt of the axe, the others pushing back against the beast ready to charge him again.

The axe pulled free with a sickening, wet gush of black blood. Laurent's magic snapped it to his hand with impeccable speed as he faced off with the creature.

The other beasts and their Acolyte leashes were almost upon them.

"Come on, then. I haven't got all day," he growled at the monster.

Laurent held his ground, letting the beast charge him. Just before it reached him, he leapt high into the air, watching as the creature slid directly into one of the others charging into the fight. Laurent's magic dropped him down onto the back of one as he used his axe to hack at the other.

The monster he rode bucked and howled, the Acolyte's magic shooting toward him at lightning speed. Several shards of magic landed on him and the creature alike before he could get his ward up.

Swinging with all his might, the first beast finally fell unmoving to the forest floor, his neck wound a ghastly grin of flesh, and his back, face, and torso a show in gashes. Still bucking, the newcomer managed to throw Laurent off, straight into one of the Acolytes.

They landed in a tangle, Laurent slipping his dagger free of his boot. Moving faster than the Acolyte could see, he slammed him hard against the ground, still fully aware of the other two and their beasts prowling.

Shoving the dagger's edge against his throat, the man's hood fell back. He was so fucking young . It only took that split moment of hesitation for magic to finally pierce through his ward, gouging a sizzling hole in his shoulder where it had already been clawed.

As he flinched, crying out involuntarily, the young Acolyte almost wriggled free. But Laurent was faster. He slid the dagger along the boy's throat without hesitation.

Wendy . For her, for his troupe, he could not hesitate.

These men could get to them if he didn't have the guts to act, and they already had the other three left behind to contend with.

Pushing off the dead Acolyte, Laurent threw rage-filled magic at the other two Acolytes and their undead monstrosities. It was just enough to hold them back long enough for him to close the gap between them. His dagger pierced one through flesh, sinew, and muscle until only the hilt remained, the Acolyte's robe flapping against it in the melee.

The beasts had slowed.

They still prowled, but they sniffed at their dead comrade, even whimpered.

The final Acolyte shouted, his magic wrapping around Laurent's arm, burning him until he dropped the dagger involuntarily. Shooting his own magic forward, it clasped onto the other man's, twisting in a vice-like grip until he cried out.

Shuffling forward, Laurent planted a kick to the man's chest. The Acolyte doubled over, and Laurent took both of his shoulders in his hands, bending him down at the same time his knee came up to meet the man's nose. A loud crunch came just before the scream and rush of blood.

Laurent ran, sliding to grab his fallen axe, taking it in hand just as one of the beasts charged him again. Its hollow eye sockets bore into his soul, a shiver raking through him, but he swung, sending every iota of his power into the blow. This time, the axe did not stick. The beast's head fell from its shoulders, hitting the ground as its body stood frozen.

For a split moment, Laurent feared the undead were impossible to kill, unalive as they already were…but then its shoulders slumped, its torso bent, and it crumpled to the ground.

A chilling sound came forth from the final creature, a half-howl, half-cry that pierced the air. It righted its head, bent its too-human knees, and charged.

Exhausted but filled with crackling magic and adrenaline to boot, Laurent grinned. In that moment, he felt as inhuman as the thing running at him headfirst. Foreign entities at war .

"Your turn." He flashed his teeth, axe ready, and ran for it. This beast rocked backwards just enough to give away its planned attack. When it lept, Laurent fell back, sliding beneath it, his axe ripping a gash from clavicle to navel. It yelped, landing hard in the dirt, its trajectory making it slide until it landed with a thud against a tree trunk.

It lay still as death, but Laurent would take no chances. This was the moment for all of them to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, how to kill one of these creatures and keep it dead.

Slowly, Laurent moved toward it on the balls of his feet, axe raised, gripped tightly in both hands. He saw no movement, but he needed to be certain.

Throwing a quick glance at the other two monsters, he stalked slowly forward, axe poised above his head. They did not move either. Answering his gut instinct, he moved on quick feet toward the first beast he'd killed. He kicked it over, raised his axe higher, and slammed it down on the neck already gaping open.

Its head fell to the side, black blood oozing onto Laurent's boots.

Closing the distance to the last beast, he raised the axe again, prepared to slice—to end this.

But the creature flipped over, swinging a leg wide, and Laurent fell back on his arse, dropping his weapon. Scrabbling backwards, he latched onto his axe again as the creature rose, its skin flayed open, viscera tumbling out, hanging, swinging.

It was no match for Laurent coming at it. His axe hit its temple. It fell to the dirt and Laurent finished the job, another head rolling .

Breathing hard, he dropped the axe and bent over, hands on his knees. At last, all the animalistic sounds faded out. Deep into the woods and far from his troupe, Laurent sat hard on a felled tree and prayed his troupe had finished the other three.

There, he waited.

WINNIE

The quill's plume of ancient feathers tickled her palm, the magic thrumming up her arm as she materialised in front of Sorscha.

Sister Spring's eyes went wide before she pushed Winnie to the side and threw a fist into a man's jaw.

"Damn you to Hades!" Sorscha shouted as she turned back toward Winnie, covered in sweat where she stood in the middle of a small field. "I could have socked you in the face!"

She wore an uncharacteristic pair of fitted pants and what could only be considered an undergarment for how little it covered. In one hand she held a dagger, the other hand was wrapped and bloodied.

"Pardon my interruption."

Winnie took quick stock of the sparring around them, quite a lot more brutal than Druid training. Asa stalked back and forth at the head of the green like a caged lion, shouting orders that his warriors clearly made sense of, but Winnie did not.

She handed the quill to Sorscha with a wink. "Your turn. "

Without another thought, Winnie began to translate, a minute coil of red magic halting her mid-translation.

"Hey, Winnie," Sorscha shouted before she was completely dispersed, using the tip of her dagger to gesture up and down. "This is a good look for you, that fire in your eyes."

She grinned like a fiend, and Winnie shot one right back. Sorscha's magic untangled from her, and a breath later she was materialising in the fray of the Druid camp, her dagger at the ready.

SELESTE

Litha landed in front of Seleste where she sat at the table in Dulci's temporary rooms within Castle Merveille. The butterfly's wings flapped more rapidly than she'd ever seen from her familiar.

"Litha!" She stood abruptly. "What is it?"

Dulci set down her teacup, some of the liquid sloshing over the side. "What is, Seleste?"

"I–I don't know."

But then she did.

She rushed for the door, flinging it open. Gathering her skirts in her hands, she ran through the corridors toward her own rooms, almost slipping when she rounded a corner.

One of Augustus' men, a kind but stern man named Porthos, was keeping guard in front of her door. He saw her coming, his hand going for the hilt of his sword, knees bent, and adrenaline no doubt spiking.

"Mademoiselle Seleste!" he shouted down the corridor, running toward her. "What is it?"

"Get the others!" she shouted, huffing and barrelling past him. She practically fell into her rooms, the faint sound of Dulci's calls following her in. Not bothering with closing the door, Seleste slid to a stop in front of the table, a ripple going through the liquid of her scrying bowl.

" Montre-moi ," she whispered to the dark pool of water.

It was foggy, blurred…an imperfect spell. She could just make out Winnie, a cut on her cheek, a droplet of blood sliding down to meet the shoulder of her white tunic. Her tight, leather jerkin was drenched in something slick and oily—black.

Seleste jumped, a hand shooting to her mouth to stifle a gasp. A horrifying creature stalked Winnie, its hollow eyes sending a rivulet of terror into Seleste's blood.

Winnie lashed out with magic, the beast halting, frozen where it stood. Eleanor came into the warbled image then, her mouth fixed in a roar Seleste could not hear. She had a sword raised over her head, prepared to slice at the immobile beast.

The scrying bowl went dark, just a pool of still water as Dulci ran into the room, clutching her chest.

"Goddess above," she said around heaving breaths. "What in Hades has happened?"

Seleste frantically searched the water with her good eye, begging it to show her more. "It worked," she said over her shoulder to Dulci. "The spell. It's not perfect, but I can see where she is—Chresedia."

But this gave her pause. Or had the spell latched onto Laurent? She hadn't seen Chresedia. Only the horrible undead creatures Grimm had warned them about.

"Come on, come on," she murmured to the scrying bowl. Augustus, Tindle, and Anne ran into the room next.

"Emile is coming," Anne announced, panting. "What is it?"

Seleste didn't answer. She was going over her spell in her mind on repeat. She'd done it right, but if Gaius had been wrong, if she and Arielle had mingled the blood... Then all she was seeing was Laurent's location. Either way, the beasts had come. She had to know if Winnie was safe. She was just about to translate to her Sister when the image returned in the water. Anne gasped, and they all huddled around the bowl, watching.

Winnie was breathing heavily. There was more black blood on her bosom and another dead beast lay at her feet. Eleanor was standing in front of Tomás, who was bleeding badly.

The image swung so quickly that Seleste's stomach lurched. Three robed figures were crumpled on the ground, at least half a dozen Druids with them, their bodies mangled with injuries and deterioration from using so much of their magic. Winnie and a woman—relief flooded Seleste's heart, Lydia —started running, shouting, making commands those gathered around the bowl couldn't hear. Then the image flickered again, coming back faster this time.

"Woods," Tindle muttered. "It's just the damned woods."

But Laurent came into view.

"We did it," Seleste breathed. "We're witnessing fragments of what she sees."

LAURENT

"Oh, do come out," Laurent shouted into the treetops, his tone dripping with honey.

Only the chittering of birds answered him, and he sent a prayer of thanks to Hespa that no cries were coming from the direction of the camp. The reason—the target—of the whole ordeal would have followed him, he knew that much, and the others should have easily taken on the last three Acolytes and monsters. He only hoped there weren't too many injured in the wake of such a fray.

"Come on, now." Laurent spun in a small circle, using his magic to alter his features into the face she liked. "You've never been bashful before. Why start now?"

The smile he fixed to his mouth pulled back from his teeth involuntarily as she stepped from behind a tree.

"Did you do all this just for me?" Chresedia gestured to the black gore and broken bodies in the clearing.

When her eyes met his again, it was as if a veil over her stuttered, revealing broken glimpses of a haggard, grotesque witch, more shrew than woman. She glided closer, her glamour returning, morphing her into the beautiful face she'd worn for as long as he'd known her.

Grimm might have been a sadistic interest of hers, but Laurent knew it was him she'd never been able to resist. She'd always wanted what she couldn't have. What wasn't hers.

Pillowy soft lips pouting sensually, she came up to him and placed a hand on his chest. Laurent's heart slammed against his ribcage, but he kept his composure outwardly. Slowly, she dragged her fingers from his breastbone, across his chest and over his shoulder, walking in a crescent until she stood at his back. A sting shot through him as she touched a finger to his colliding wounds. Laurent gritted his teeth to keep from flinching and worked to keep his breathing even.

"I could heal this for you, you know," she said from behind him. "Or would you rather Wendy do it?"

With a snarl, Laurent whipped around, grabbing Chresedia by the throat and slamming her up against a tree trunk. "What have I told you about keeping her name out of your godsdamned mouth?"

Chresedia peered up at him through lowered lashes, her tongue darting out to lick across her bottom lip. The mask faltered, revealing how truly rotted she'd become, just before it knit itself back together. So many questions came to his mind as he stared at her, his hand itching to crush her windpipe.

The plan had only been to lure her in so Seleste could ensure her tracking spell had latched onto Chresedia properly. But, now that she was there, away from Wendy and the others, he couldn't pass up the opportunity.

"Do it," she croaked, clasping both of her clawed hands around his, tightening his grip on her neck.

Why had Grimm not killed this wretch when he had the chance? That's what they went to Achlys to find out. And he had to trust they knew what the fuck they were doing.

"Do it." This time, her words were hardly audible, her face turning purple .

Everything in him vibrated, begging him to let go of control. End this. All of it.

His fingers tightened, her head tipping back, survival instincts making her fight for air.

A streak of fire like lightning coursed through his arm, singeing his skin until it burned. Laurent cried out, dropping Chresedia to the ground. She clutched her neck, cackling as she looked up at him. It hadn't felt like her magic, it felt like—like his own. Was she still connected to him somehow?

Still laughing, she rose, dusting the dirt from her ash and onyx skirts. "You can't kill me, beloved." She stalked closer, cocking her head in a show of exaggerated pity. "Your Lord Night will not allow it."

He wanted to lash out at her, use his axe to relieve her of her head. Was that Grimm's power that had zapped him? Is that why it felt like his own?

No …

"Dear, dear," she tsked , walking a slow circle around him. "They think they're so smart, and yet, they still can't remember what they even did to me. Shame, really."

"They know enough," Laurent growled.

Chresedia stopped, turning toward him, all show of her beautiful mask dissolved. The bruises beneath her eyes were so purple they were almost black. Her veins were dark rivers etched along her throat, her temples, her chest. Her tongue darted out too quickly, licking her cracked lips. "Is that why he locked me away in my cage?" she hissed. "Thinking I couldn't get out? Thinking I wouldn't know he's gone traipsing around our home trying to remember what they did to me?"

Home . Laurent's mind spun. Chresedia wanted to go home. On the eclipse, she would open a portal and leave their realm. They'd wanted to stop her so she didn't go to another realm and hurt anyone else. But…

Home . Chresedia was Athania. It was Athania who wanted to go home. And home was The Void.

Fuck .

"Why won't Lord Night let you be harmed?" he snarled.

A disturbing grin curled her lips. "Now you're asking the right questions." She spun in a circle like a little girl, her face tipped toward the sky, her dirty skirt and brittle hair splaying out around her. A giggle erupted from her before she stopped abruptly, facing him again. "And I'm bored. So I'll indulge your curiosity . But you must give me the quill first."

"I don't have it," Laurent gritted out.

She was upon him in a blink, her hand gripping his chin, sharp nails drawing blood from his cheeks. "Liar."

Breathing rapidly through his nose to keep from killing her, he let her look into his eyes. Let her see the truth that the quill was gone. Winnie had taken it to Sorscha. At least he hoped to all the gods but the one standing before him that she'd been successful.

With an unhinged hiss, she pushed his chin back, stepping away from him. "Kiss me, then."

Laurent barked a laugh. "You want me to fucking what ?"

"Do it." The voice came out of nowhere.

Laurent and Chresedia both whirled to where Winnie had materialised.

" Bábóg ." Laurent put his hands up. "No."

Chresedia clapped, jumping up and down like a child and giggling. "This is fun ," she sang .

Laurent pleaded silently with Winnie. They needed the information but gods , at what cost?

Chresedia spun another circle, landing in front of Winnie. Laurent flinched toward her, but she held up a hand. "What would you ask of me, then?" Winnie bit out, her chin high. "To explain yourself."

The vile, fallen goddess halted, suddenly quite sober. "I'd rather give you something." The chilled tone of her voice sent unease dripping down Laurent's spine, but Winnie was already nodding.

"Done."

"What the fuck, Wendy!" Laurent stepped between them. "No!"

But a grey streak of magic flecked with bedimmed gold was already seeping from Chresedia's temple, headed straight for Winnie's.

"Stop!" Laurent shouted, his power shooting out to block her. But Winnie's magic unfurled to fight his off.

The grey streak shot into her temple, and Winnie went limp, Laurent sliding to catch her.

WINNIE

When the scalding pain ceased, her eyes were not her own.

In front of her, shrouded in the fog of memory, was her mother, tears streaming down her face.

"They're gone," she spat through gritted teeth. "And there is no way you will find them again. "

Winnie's hand that was not hers came up, slapping her mother across the face. "You cannot stop this," she hissed.

Lorelai's eyes were aflame, her hand cradling her cheek.

"You traipse around Midlerea, spreading heretical doctrine, thinking if you erase all signs of the Sisters Solstice, make people believe them a hearthtale, that it will keep me from getting what I want?"

Winnie's borrowed head tipped back, laughing. When her attention snapped back to Lorelai, the acrid scent of smoke burned her nose. A thick cloud of it was seeping into the room at Lorelai's back.

"Tonight, you watched your coven burn. Tonight, you thought you could make me believe your daughters had burned with it." She stalked closer, Lorelai raising her chin, refusing to move. "You have failed," she whispered into Lorelai's face, watching the tears gather and fall as Lorelai ground her teeth. "How long have you and I been at odds? How long have you led the Fourth Order, thinking you're furthering the work of Lord and Lady Magie de la Nuit, protecting magic from me?" She tutted. "All of your life. Since that day dearest Lord Night came to you. Gave you a goddess quill and told you it was time for the Dark Star. For the Prince of Bone and the Autumn Daughter."

The smoke came in thick, the heat unbearable. She lashed a hand out, and Lorelai flinched, though barely. But instead of slapping her again, she cupped her cheek tenderly. "Did you know I was there the day you set the prophecy in place in Seagovia with your daughter's name? And I was there the day your dearest, now- burned Ambrose took the updated version to Eridon dressed as a g?thi."

Tears spilled in streams down Lorelai's cheeks, but only fury shone in her eyes.

Winnie's borrowed face leaned in close, nose to nose. "I am everywhere ."

Lorelai's chest rose and fell rapidly, but she made no move to flee when they parted.

"Goodbye, Lorelai Joubert. I hope you die knowing that you failed your husband and your daughters." Still, Lorelai stood straight as an arrow, unflinching. "You even failed your coven, your Fourth Order, and magic." She took a step back. "I hope you know I will infiltrate the Sisters Solstice again, take your precious Dark Star under my wing." A smile stretched across her face. "And I will break her."

With that, Lorelai burst into flames.

Winnie's borrowed body cackled, watching as Lorelai screamed. As her skin blistered, melted, fell away from the bone. With her jaw visible, it clacked as she said her final words, " Que l'amour soit ce qui nous lie. ? * "

When Winnie opened her true eyes, Chresedia was gone.

* ? May love be what binds us.