Chapter 12

The Necromancer

‘What is that?' I ask, looking at the long white gown shaw hangs over the back of the bedroom door.

‘I think you know what it is, Pix. And why is your face bloody?'

‘An accident,' I reply, not wanting to tell him the truth.

He already seems pissed off.

Shaw hands me a letter, and I read it with panic swirling in my stomach.

‘A wedding?' I ask, lifting my gaze to look at Shaw. ‘Our wedding?'

‘What?!' Archie snatches it from my hand to read it himself. ‘But, the king said you had until the snow falls.'

‘Seems he has moved it up. He wants us there tomorrow to wed before the court.' Shaw looks past me at the dress. ‘The guards handed it to me when I walked them out. Apparently, it's a gift from the queen. It's… nice.'

‘Then you wear it,' I sneer back, taking the letter from Archie and shoving it back at Shaw. ‘I am not marrying you. And we are not going to the palace!'

‘You knew it was coming.'

‘I hoped one of us would be dead by then,' I bite back.

‘I'm sorry,' he scoffs. ‘I thought we were past the hostility.'

‘What made you think that?'

‘Well. We did all have our cocks inside you a matter of hours ago, Pixie.'

‘Oh. So now sex means marriage? Shall we pop out some kids and grow old together?' I sneer. ‘Shall we cuddle and braid each other's hair?' I point at the dress. ‘That is not happening.'

‘You do know we have no intention of letting you leave, so why are you fighting this?' he argues. ‘It's just a wedding.'

‘Because we should in no way be walking into the human king's palace, where they will put a binding cuff on me. What if it's a trap?'

‘She has a point,' Archie agrees. ‘Timing seems off to me. He did say when the snow falls. We're a good month from that. Why move it up? The guards saw how empty the castle was. Now this?'

‘If we refuse, they will come and fetch us,' Shaw replies. ‘And we will be the enemy.'

‘We are the enemy,' Archie reminds him. ‘Or we will be when they learn the truth of what we are and what we have done.'

We all fall into an awkward silence.

‘Where's Dorian?' Shaw asks.

‘Looking for Thalia,' Archie replies distractedly.

‘Excuse me? Why?'

‘She got out and made a run for it.'

‘What?! When?'

‘About an hour ago. When Sinthia possessed Pix and gave me a surprise blow job right before I kicked her in the face and broke her nose.'

Shaw just blinks at him with his eyebrows up and lips parted.

‘Maybe this could be a good thing,' Archie suggests. ‘We could talk to the king and warn him about Neve.'

‘And when he asks how she returned, what will you say?' I ask.

‘That we don't know. But he can be rest assured we will kill her. Just as we did before.'

Shaw and Archie share a look. One I know means that they agree.

I step back. Shaw's eyes dart in my direction on high alert.

‘Do I get a say in this?' I ask.

‘Depends on what your say is,' he grinds back.

I crouch and rest my hands in the moss and clover. Behind me, roots rise up and grab the dress. I never look away from Shaw as the sound of tearing fabric fills the room. I stand.

‘That's what I say.'

He takes a step towards me.

‘You're mine. In body. In soul. And now you will belong to me by law. You may as well have my name carved into you with how much you're mine.'

‘Do it,' I dare. ‘See what happens.'

‘Thalia's gone,' Dorian declares as he steps inside. ‘Girl can move when she wants to. And to make it worse, Leo's gone, too. The barrier is holding for now, but it won't be for long. Shall we go after them?' I turn to see him look at the intense state of the atmosphere. ‘Did I miss something?'

‘Apparently, I'm being dragged down the aisle sooner than expected, and I'm just telling the walking nightmare I'm to marry that he is an idiot for willingly walking into the palace!'

‘Now the barrier is about to fall, and we're entirely alone, we have no other fucking choice.' Shaw scrunches up the letter and tosses it across the room. ‘We need to go and tell the king that Neve is back. We need to get an army ready to face her.'

‘We need to run!' I snarl. ‘We can kill Neve. Why do you cling to the humans and their cruel king?'

‘Because,' he snarls back. ‘We have lived through a war already and know more about what is needed to win than you do. We need the king's army if we're to stand a chance.'

‘Then you go. I will find Neve myself. I have no time for cowards.'

He blows sleep dust in my face and catches me as I fall.

‘Sometimes, you should really stop fucking talking.'

‘Suck my dick.' My eyes close.

I jolt awake, my body jarring as I take in a deep breath. Opening my eyes, I see Archie sitting in front of me with an apologetic expression.

‘Sorry, Pix,' he says. ‘You know what they say. Easier to ask forgiveness than permission, right?'

I quickly realise I'm in a carriage. Shaw is beside me, his eyes pure white and a nasty smile on his face. He's walking. But it wasn't with me.

I don't care to ask. Not when I see the long silver dress I'm wearing, encrusted with sparkling gems and a corset bodice crushing my ribcage. On my wrist is my glamour bracelet, so my scars and kindred marks are hidden. And I'm wearing lace, fingerless gloves.

I'm in a damned wedding dress but not the one the palace sent.

‘We had it made for you especially,' Archie says, nodding to the dress. ‘Much nicer than the one the palace sent, don't you think?'

I go for the carriage door and bolt, leaping out as it still moves and landing on the grass with a grunt.

The horses neigh as the carriage is stopped. I look back to see Archie peering out after me, laughing and shaking his head.

I get another three steps before I stop dead, my body gripped as if encased in marble. My feet won't move. I can't turn. But I know who's riding up behind me on horseback.

‘Let me go, shadow prick,' I warn. Dorian has my poppet doll gripped tightly in his hand.

‘You have nowhere to go, and you know it.'

‘It's foolish to go to the palace! How can't you see that?'

He dismounts and walks towards me.

‘We will get this done swiftly and leave, Poppet. Now is not the time to be making an enemy of the humans. Now is the time to side with them and make a move against Neve. If you marrying Shaw satisfies the king's doubts about our allegiances, then so fucking be it.'

‘Take your poppet and shove it up your arse. Before I do.'

‘Now, now. No need for threats.'

‘Nothing will change. It's just the king throwing his weight around.'

‘We need to find Neve!'

I grunt and swear as I try to take control of my body. How can they not see this as utterly foolish?

‘Get back in the carriage,' he orders. ‘And pick up the hem of your dress before it gets dirty.'

I spin on my heel and obey, walking with him right behind me.

Sat back in front of Archie, Dorian slams the door shut.

‘Walk on!' he orders.

The carriage moves off.

‘If you don't quit smirking at me, mutt, I'll send my familiar over to bite you.'

‘Sorry, Pix,' he smirks. ‘I'm trying, but you are the cutest, funniest little thing when you act like a brat.'

‘Bite me.'

‘Interesting choice of words.'

Shaw gives a dark laugh, but his eyes remain white. I sit back with my arms folded across my chest.

‘What is he doing?'

‘Walking.'

‘I know that. Who is he walking? Thalia?'

Archie shakes his head, pulls out a flask and takes a swig before handing it to me.

I take a sip.

‘He's walking with Cole.'

I choke on the spirit.

‘Cole?' I splutter.

‘He's been doing it for a few weeks now.'

‘Is he finding out where he is?'

‘Nah. His mind's been blocked from showing any useful information to him. Neve has her ways of shielding herself and others from Shaw's dream walking power. He's never been able to walk her dreams at all, much to his annoyance.'

‘Then, what is he doing in there now?'

‘Just tormenting the fucker, you know? Making him see all kinds of twisted shit.'

‘Really?' My interest is peaked.

He nods as if that's obvious.

‘Why antagonise him?'

‘Fun. Revenge. Take your pick. He hurt you. What else do you think he deserves? Shaw walks every time Cole sleeps and makes him suffer. Until we get our hands on him, that's about all we can do.'

I glance at Shaw.

‘What does he make Cole see?'

Archie just laughs and takes back his flask, swigging deeply from it as he leans back.

‘Is it awful?' I ask.

‘For Cole, I imagine it's the epitome of hell.'

‘Tell me.'

He just chuckles to himself and takes another swig. I watch Shaw, curious to know what nightmares Cole would suffer though the most. His father's death? His own torture?

‘You look beautiful,' Archie says.

‘For a dead witch-slash vampire who had to be knocked out and put into a wedding dress. Sure. I bet I look wonderful.'

‘I'm jealous.'

‘You want to swap? I bet you would look amazing in this dress.'

‘No. I'm jealous that Shaw gets to marry you and not me.'

Those words take me by surprise, and I suddenly find myself struggling to think of what to say back.

‘It's not a real marriage,' I end up saying as if trying to comfort him.

Me. Comforting him!

‘And what is a real marriage?' he asks.

‘Not this.'

‘Do you want a real marriage, Pix? Do you want to be a lady of the house? Managing the kitchens and staff? Popping out some kids? Be dependent on your husband for everything?'

‘Well. No.'

‘No. You want to be wild. To run barefoot in the forests and swim naked in the rivers. You want to tap into your earth magic whenever you fucking please and be stronger than any other earth witch that has lived. You want to read what you want. Drink what you want. Swear like a sailor and speak your argumentative and pain in the arse mind. You want to fuck hard and be fucked even harder. Have orgasms that tear through your body one after the other, and be worshipped and devoured by three very skilled and willing males. You want to feed and be whoever the hell you want to be. Let me tell you a secret.' He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and beckoning me closer with a wag of his finger. ‘You just described our perfect woman. That's all we want for you too. But to get there, you need to work with us. Not against us. You have a loooong life ahead of you. These next few days, weeks, and even years are a blip in the many decades to come. I know you're scared of the humans.'

‘I'm not scared,' I grumble.

He carries on, ignoring me. ‘But can you please trust us in this? We know what is needed to win. And their allegiance is fucking needed. So. Go to the palace in this stunning dress. Stand before the king with a smile and claim the most powerful witch hunter as yours. Drink some wine. Dance. Then we can get on with killing Neve and Cole. After that, you are free to do everything you want to do.' He tugs on the chain around my neck so we're nose to nose. ‘Do you think you can manage that?'

‘I can manage that.'

‘Good girl.' He lets me go and glances at Shaw, whose eyes are back to normal. ‘Shall I do the whole "If you hurt her, I'll kill you" speech?'

‘If I hurt her, she'll kill me. She doesn't need you to do that for her.' Shaw tucks my hair behind my ear. ‘Forgiven me?'

‘Ask me in ten years.'

‘I will. Wife.'

‘Never call me that again.'

He hands me a book from his cloak.

‘What's this?' I ask, taking it.

‘A wedding gift. They're some notes from the earth grimoire.'

‘How… how did you get this?' I ask, quickly opening its pages.

‘Dug it out of Cole's head. His father has been making him read it on and off for years. Cole didn't take much notice, but I managed to pull this stuff out for you. Hopefully, it will help you practice until we get the real grimoire back for you. It makes no sense to me, but hopefully, it will for you. You're definitely powerful enough to read from the actual grimoire and wield the spells. I'm not sure it works if written in a different book, but it's worth a try.'

I open my mouth to cast a spell, but he places his hand over the written word.

‘Perhaps now is not the time to test it out. If you break the carriage, we shall have to walk.'

Fair point.

I sit back and flick through the pages. There are a fair few spells in here. They're pretty basic, but my gods, am I excited to give them a go. My familiar slithers from around my neck and peers down at it through my hair as if reading with me.

Can she read?

There are spells to find your way if you're lost. Incantations to find shelter. Plants and herbs that can be used in potions. Techniques to manipulate the soil and roots. I flick through page after page for hours, utterly engrossed in these scribblings until I have memorised several. Only when I glance out the window and see the human kingdom in the distance do I lower it.

I take a shaky breath, dreading this with every fibre of my being.

Shaw takes my hand in his and squeezes. Our eyes meet.

‘If it goes bad, you have my full support and instruction to tear the place down to get yourself out of there. Leave us behind if you have to.'

‘I'll be wearing the cuff to nullify my magic.'

‘My darling girl. You could tear that palace down with no magic and one hand tied behind your back. Besides. Your little friend and I have come up with a plan.'

He winks at my familiar, who winks back.

‘You have her wrapped around your little finger,' I grumble, taking her off my neck. ‘Why don't you go slither around his neck if you love him so much.'

She slithers back up my arm in apology, making him laugh.

‘You realise that she only feels what you feel for me? If you hated me, she would hate me. But. If she loves me-'

‘What plan do you have?' I ask, cutting him off before he can finish.

‘You'll see.'

We stop. The carriage door is opened.

And we're met with a dozen heavily armed guards.

‘Happy wedding day,' Archie sings, looking at the many sword hilts. ‘This should be fun.'

Dorian appears by the door and offers his hand to help me leave the carriage. I'm presented with the nullifying bracelet almost immediately. No part of me wants to put that thing on my wrist. No part of me wants to step foot inside those intense and intimidating stone walls.

Shaw clears his throat.

I hold out my wrist, and on it goes. My magic fades away as if pushed into a little box deep in my soul.

I feel it, but at a distance.

Whatever his plan, I hope he fills me in soon.

‘Welcome, General,' the guard greets. ‘As ever, I must ask you to relinquish your weapons before entering the palace.'

The guys methodically remove their many blades and hand them to the guards.

Shaw then offers me his arm. Archie stands to his left. Dorian to my right. And we walk inside. Beneath the glove, my familiar wraps herself around my wrist, placing her body between my skin and the cuff.

I gasp, looking at Shaw, who smiles comfortably.

I have access to my magic. She's blocking the cuff! And how the hell she has managed to fit, I have no idea. But she has.

My wonderful familiar.

We're led to the main hall, just as we were before.

Countless members of the court have gathered, and they part as we walk through.

It's strange. Last time, they stared at us. Many watched the guys with intrigue and even lust. Then, they watched me with distaste and revulsion. Now, everyone averts their gaze. Eyes remain on the floor or anxiously looking at the guards.

My legs feel several inches shorter. I stumble as if I've forgotten how to bloody walk.

Shaw grips me tighter, steadying me.

‘I have you. We all do,' he whispers.

I watch him as we walk, keeping my focus on him and nothing more. Even though I want to throttle him most of the time, I feel grounded when I'm with him. Stronger. Braver. Probably through sheer spite, if nothing else.

We reach the king's dais.

But the throne of the king and queen are empty.

Instead, the prince stands front and centre, his crown a little crooked on his head and a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

Shaw offers a slight bow.

‘My Prince. Your father has summoned us.'

‘Indeed,' he replies. ‘My father will be here shortly. My mother is unwell, and he is tending to her.'

Strange. To summon us in such haste if his wife is sick.

The Prince's eyes narrow on me.

‘So. You are still alive, witch.'

‘I am indeed.'

‘I was certain The General would have killed you by now. Such a brute, notorious for slaughtering your kind. And you. So…' He scrunches up his face in clear disgust. ‘Small.'

‘Perhaps if your father had waited until the snow fell as we agreed, I would be dead before we wed.' I smile back.

Shaw lets out a heavy and frustrated exhale as he side-glances me.

‘We've been here less than a minute. Can you try and be polite?' he whispers.

I shrug and continue to smile.

The Prince's eyes narrow further as he walks towards us. Each of his footsteps echoes around the vast hall, and it takes all I have to maintain my composure. Shaw's hand gives mine an encouraging little squeeze. The prince stops before Shaw and me.

‘I would like a word with the king,' Shaw says. ‘Prior to the wedding.'

‘When he has finished seeing to my ailing mother, he will be right with you.' His smile is as chilling as the emptiness of his eyes. There's no soul inside him. Just a spoilt brat used to getting his own way, uncaring of who bleeds to get it.

Just like Cole.

My snake tightens around my wrist. She's uneasy. I don't blame her. We're surrounded by humans, all of which would be very happy to see me dead.

And a creepy little prince whose gaze has me uncomfortable.

‘I would like to make this quick,' Shaw says bluntly.

‘Of course,' he agrees. But does nothing to hurry things along. ‘My father will not be too much longer.'

His hands rest behind his back as he dances on his toes.

‘You make a pretty bride,' he says. ‘You know. For a witch.'

Shaw squeezes my hand again before I answer back.

Silence. Keep my mouth shut.

As we wait, I look around the court. How different it is this time. So quiet and formal. The closer I look, the more I realise that they all seem pale and wide-eyed. And all are very purposefully avoiding eye contact with us.

I glance at Shaw. He notices the same thing as he surveys the crowd. His eyes narrow as he tries to figure out what is going on.

I turn back to look at the prince. And let out a gasp. It takes all I have not to scream.

Behind the prince, The king clutches his throat and chokes on the blood gushing down his front. Rage and betrayal exude from him as he watches his son. He staggers towards him, hand outstretched for his child. Each time he attempts to speak, blood spurts from the hideously deep gash across his throat.

Behind the king, the queen looks into nothing with tears streaming down her gaunt cheeks. Her thin, naked body is crisped and raw. She still smoulders, and her flesh hisses and spits from the fire that ended her life. Her dress is melted to her in patches, but I see she is also smothered in stab wounds. I see her ribs through several of the cuts. Her anguished groans are so loud. How can no one else hear it?

But no one else can. Nor can they see them.

The king and queen are dead, and judging by what I'm feeling from their spirits, their son is the one who slaughtered them.

I need to tell Shaw. I have to tell him this is all a trap.

I look up at him. He is still looking around, his eyes slowly taking in every detail.

How many soldiers. How many swords. All the exits.

I knew we should never have come, and if we get out of this, I am going to carve the words ‘I told you so, you stupid fucking arse hole!' across his chest.

He looks down at me, dragging his gaze from our enemies with a formidable look.

I flinch at the sound of the queen who has appeared at my side. Her whimpering and whines land on my neck, sending that horrible chill all the way down my spine.

Don't look at her. No matter what, don't look at her.

She's already so close, and I barely made eye contact with her for a second.

Three more guards walk in.

‘Your highness. The king has requested that you continue without him. Your mother is unwell, and he doesn't want to leave her side.'

‘Very well.' The prince claps his hands. ‘Then let's get this started. Ready, General?'

Shaw and I just stare at one another. The queen's face is an inch from mine.

Focus. I'm in control. My power. It's my magic.

I take the tips of my fingers and press them each into my thumb as I count. Just as Shaw taught me.

He sees what I'm doing and glances around us.

One. Two. Three.

My fingernails dig in deep as I count each number. I force myself to calm. I command her in my mind to stay the fuck away from me.

Four. Five. Six.

‘You're in control,' he mutters, his words brimming with confidence. ‘You. Not them.'

Her hands lurch for me but meet a solid force instead of my body.

Seven. Eight. Nine.

‘Do not look at them,' he warns.

‘Coven…' the dead queen wheezes. ‘Your… coven and the blood… queen!'

I can't help it. I look right at her. They've never spoken so coherently before. Most of the time, it's screams and grunts of pain. The shock of hearing a spirit actually form words of meaning has me meeting her grey eyes. The smell of her burning flesh forces its way down my throat, and I struggle to breathe.

‘What?' I ask. ‘What about it?'

‘NO!' Shaw grips my face and tries to pull my focus away from her. ‘Don't!'

Too late. I've invited her to answer. And the spirits only know one way to communicate with me.

Her cold hands grab my arm, and everything goes a painful white.

I'm her. Inside her body, feeling everything she felt. Seeing everything she saw.

The blade enters her over and over again.

It enters me.

It's a searing pain that radiates throughout our entire being. The warmth of our blood falls to our feet and makes us slip. Her pathetic excuse of a son drives his dagger into our stomach over and over, looking us in the eye as he does with sheer contempt.

‘Is this bold enough for you, Mother?' he snarls with a twisted smile. ‘Am I strong enough to rule now? Or am I still such a disappointment?'

I reach out, but it's her fingers that grip his collar. ‘Yes,' we grit back, her ruthless and stern voice leaving my mouth. ‘You are a great disappointment to us all. You will never be a worthy king.'

He withdraws his blade and slices it clear across our throat.

Although the blood that spills down our front is warm, we turn cold through our entire body.

The inevitability of death claims us, and what hurts most is not the wounds. It is the boy who delivers them so maliciously.

He watches us fall to the floor and stands over us. Over his mother.

Her heart breaks in my chest. I know her thoughts as if they're my own. I hear them. She grew him inside her. Birthed him over twelve hours of unbearable agony. She cradled him every night and watched him take his first steps. She loved that boy and gave him all the care she so struggled to share with anyone else.

Even when she walked in to find him cutting the legs of a cat when he was four, she loved him. She cleaned up the mess and tried to understand why he would do such a thing.

Even when she caught him tearing the wings off birds when he was six, she loved him.

Even when she found a strangled maid at the foot of his bed when he was fifteen, she loved him!

And even when he befriended that strange little fire witch in the fire coven, and the two would spend hours catching critters and burning them alive, she loved him.

But over the years, she began to fear him and found him repulsive, knowing that he loved to watch things suffer before they died. No one could get through to him. No one could understand why he was the way he was.

She did.

He has no soul whatsoever. He was born defective.

Monster. She made a monster in her womb. And now he has killed her.

What she fears now as she lies in her pooling blood is what he plans for the kingdom. And why he has the fire witch she forbade him to see standing at his side, free of her confinement and without a nullifying bracelet.

‘You and father are the weak ones,' he sneers at us. ‘I told you. We should not contain the witches. We should weaponise them. The world is endless, and this kingdom so small.' He leans down as I feel her struggle for her final, blood-choked breath. ‘Rulers don't negotiate. They take. Just as I have taken the throne from you both. And now, I will take the lands beyond these borders.'

‘Witches can not… be … trusted…'

He backs away from us, shaking his head and laughing before turning away without another glance. He steps over the already dead king as if he is nothing but a pile of dirt he needs to avoid.

‘Send for the witch killers and their whore of an earth witch,' the prince instructs the guards standing by the door. ‘Tell the Blood Queen that we will have the girl secured by daybreak, just as agreed. And tell her that we will keep the way clear so she can go to the earth coven un-hindered by The General and his men.' He stops by a young girl with jet-black hair and pale blue eyes. His finger traces down her cheek. ‘Finish her off, love.'

He doesn't look back as the young woman walks towards us. I hear each gentle footstep and watch with terror as flames spring to life on her palm.

The queen watched her husband burn slowly. She heard his screams as he choked on the smell of his burning flesh.

‘W-why?' I manage to speak, looking at the sweet young girl who smiles so kindly.

‘You won the battle,' she coos back. ‘The witches shall win the war.' She giggles. ‘Your bones will look so lovely at the palace gates.'

Fire shoots from her fingertips, and I feel them smother me.

The heat bites at every nerve, and the pain of the stab wounds disappear, replaced by this agony.

I have been hung. I have been crushed. I have been cut. Now I burn.

I burn, and I scream.

When I reopen my eyes, I'm on the floor of the great hall, surrounded by the three guys who face the guards.

The guards are ready with their swords as they encircle us. The guys only have their powers, which they have so far concealed from the court.

My skin still feels hot. I taste her burning flesh, and the heat of her death lingers in my throat.

‘Just give us the blood witch,' the prince sighs as if bored. ‘Your fate will be far kinder if you do.'

‘You will not touch her,' Dorian states firmly.

‘We will. And if you fight us, we will make her suffer far greater than if you just step away.' The prince's eyes flick in my direction, and that smile turns cruel. ‘Did you see her?' he asks, looking around him. ‘Do you see her still? You screamed as she screamed. Do you burn still, blood witch?'

Dorian crouches down. His left hand reaches for me as he keeps his focus on nothing but the threat surrounding us. He helps me to my feet and I need to lean against his broad back to keep myself up. Their backs surround me as they face our enemies together.

‘Talk, Pixie,' Shaw says in a low, gruff voice. ‘What's happening? What did you see?'

‘The king and queen are dead,' I manage, my voice still hoarse from the contact with her spirit. ‘The prince has killed them.'

Dorian's hand tightens on me.

‘This is a trap,' I continue. ‘The prince wants us out of the way so Neve can do something to my old coven. He's made a deal to capture us for Neve. We have to go to my coven.'

The prince's smirk is faltering. He wasn't planning on me learning anything. But the queen is still there. Still at his side. And the more I look at her, I feel a connection. A strength. An ownership over her soul. Usually, I avoid the spirits and look away. I hide. When they did get close, I pushed that connection deep down inside until they got bored and forgot about me. They would fade, their strength wasted on making contact with me, and they would return to being consumed by their pain. They would return to the person they were haunting. To their killer.

But the queen looks right at me, and the magic connecting us builds and builds just as it did when I took control of the dead when I faced Neve. That same strength. That euphoria and power.

My blood magic. My necromancer gifts.

My face rests on the firm surface of Dorian's back. His heart thumps in his chest far slower and steadier than it has any right to, considering we're surrounded.

‘What are you doing to the earth coven, prince?' Shaw asks, every word a threat.

‘I will execute the members of this court,' the prince warns me. ‘Every man, woman and child unless you do as I say.'

‘We will kill every soul here ourselves before you get anywhere near our witch,' Archie promises.

The queen and I look at each other still, and the blackened flesh on her carved-up body starts to burn hot. Deep oranges seep through the black scabs and charred bits of her body. Smoke rises, and flames erupt over her. She doesn't scream. She doesn't even flinch.

She just stands there and burns.

I let out a long breath. Their words fade, and a single word echoes in my ear, whispered to me from a dream or a long-ago memory.

‘Effingo Mortem.'

The court screams as she explodes into fire and Dorian's arm wraps around me, pinning me to the back of his body as he staggers. All eyes land on the burning queen and it becomes painfully clear that she is no longer a spirit lost to the eyes of mortals. She is here, and her spirit's rage burns as hot as her body does.

‘What the fuck?!' Dorian yells, pushing me back and away from this flaming spectre. ‘What the hell is that?'

‘DEAD QUEEN!' Archie yells, pointing at her spirit. ‘PIX MADE A DEAD QUEEN!'

‘I CAN FUCKING SEE THAT!' Shaw yells back.

Archie looks at me.

‘UNDO IT! FUCKING UNDO IT!'

I reach out my hand and see those black veins pulsing up my arms. Dorian looks down at me and actually recoils.

I step forward, my hold on the queen so strong I know that she belongs to me. That all spirits have always belonged to me. Perhaps I was not strong enough to grip the leash around their necks before now. Or perhaps my own cowardice kept me from even trying. But I am not going to hide another second.

‘Effingo Mortem!' I call out again. ‘Take your revenge. Kill!'

The queen screams, her arms outstretched as she shoots a stream of fire straight at the prince.

One of his guards lands atop him, saving him from the same fate he inflicted on his mother. The queen moves her hands, spreading the fire to all in her sight.

To my enemies.

My eyes never leave her because I know that my command over her will end when I look away. And I have no idea what will happen then.

Will she turn on me? Will she disappear?

The connection between us is intense. But I know it could snap in the blink of an eye. I have her on a leash, and I'm holding on with all my strength.

The hall fills with screams and shouts as all hell breaks loose. Shaw and Archie move quickly, disarming three guards and snatching their swords for themselves. Dorian still has me pinned to him from behind and takes the sword Archie tosses him.

The ringing of steel sounds out. I don't look away from my queen. Blades go through her as if she's smoke, but all who get too close feel her heat. The stench of the burning swiftly fills the air, making us gag and wretch, and she never stops screaming in pure rage and pain.

The prince has scrambled away like the coward he is. The queen seeks him out and turns her attack on him. The fire witch who killed her steps between them and meets her flames with her own, and it becomes a battle of wills between the murdered queen and her murderer.

She's a powerful fire witch and just as demented as the prince as she laughs maniacally, relishing in the fight.

I fist Dorian's shirt as I strain against the force of her assault. Tears begin streaming down my face as the heat intensifies.

SLAM. SLAM. SLAM!

‘Furatus aer!'

I blink, my lungs emptying instantly. The queen fades, and the connection is lost.

We all turn to see Cole standing there, my father's cane in hand and a victorious sneer plastered on his pale face. His other hand is held close to his chest. A stump is all that remains, and it's clear the injury is causing him tremendous pain. Archie raises his sword and goes to bring it down on Cole's neck.

‘STOP!' Shaw yells.

The tip of the blade rests on his neck, barely kissing his skin.

I fall to my knees, the trigger forcing me down as it has so many times.

‘If you kill him, she will never be free of the trigger he has started!'

The battle falls quiet as everyone regathers themselves. Many are dead. The guys cut down a dozen soldiers, and the fire from the queen has slaughtered guards and members of the court alike.

‘Allow her to breathe, Cole. Or I will take your other hand,' Archie warns.

‘What shall I command of her, General?' he jeers. ‘Oh. I have a thousand ideas, thanks to your nightmares.'

‘Tell her to blink, and then she can breathe,' Archie snarls, the tip of his sword moving quickly to rest between his legs. ‘Or I will cut off your dick and have it mounted next to the hand I took from you.'

Cole remains furiously calm, his body unmoving despite the look of violence radiating from him.

‘Come here, Ashe,' Cole says, not looking away from Archie. He points to the spot before him. ‘You will crawl to me.'

My body obeys, pulling away from Dorian who attempts to keep me close. I crawl to Cole, my body convulsing with the need to breathe, and I stop in front of him.

‘Kiss me deeply and then take three strikes from your lovers. Strikes that they deliver with all their strength. If you do not fulfil this order, you will not be permitted to breathe. Am I understood?'

As soon as my lips meet Cole's, air flows through my lungs once more. We keep both our eyes open as I kiss him just the way he wants me to. With tongue and meaning. I kiss him like I hate him. Rough and aggressive, so my lips hurt, and our teeth clink.

He is loving every brutal second.

Behind us, three more fire witches move in on the guys. Their flames dance warningly on their fingertips.

Our kiss ends, and I look up at him. I once looked into his eyes with happiness. I may not have wanted to marry him, but he was my friend. I cared for him deeply.

Not deep enough for his needs. Not obediently enough for his expectations.

He and the prince are the same. Tearing off the wings of birds and stealing the freedoms of others.

‘Who would you like to hit you first?' he asks me.

‘Me,' I reply before slamming my fist into my face and breaking my nose. Blood spills down my face, and I swiftly wipe it into my palm. I laugh, looking at the red glistening on my fingers.

‘You have the bracelet on. You cannot use your magic against us,' Cole scoffs.

‘Want to bet?'

He sees the head of my snake poke out from my wrist, and then the screams start.

The dead rise up and wrap their hands around the necks of the fire witches. A series of snaps echo around us, one after the other, as I take command of the corpses.

The dark magic inside me sparks into existence in a powerful burst that has every fibre of my being screaming with life. Life I hadn't even realised I had lost until this very second. When my neck snapped, and I left my body, I knew I died. My heart stopped. I was a spirit. But somehow, I was returned. Necromancers are powerful and wild creatures, their magic far from understood or studied. But as I tap into the power of my blood, I know that I haven't been fully alive until right now.

All that matters to me is grasping the life I have lost and never letting go. The life that was stolen.

That Neve took.

The need consumes me, and my head is thrown back as the darkness rips through me in beautiful euphoria. My blood magic consumes me.

And it is delicious.

I feel them all. Every living and dead thing. And they are mine to save or destroy.

I laugh. But the laughter is not mine. It's inside me, spilling out of my mouth.

‘ASHE!' Dorian roars. ‘STOP!' He reaches out for me as something inside me yanks hard, pulling me back. Dark shadows explode from his back and soar towards me, smothering me and enveloping me completely. I spin wildly in the swirling mass of shadows as that unyielding tug roots in deep and drags me back.

Until… thud.

I land face down.

The swirling blackness is gone. Everyone is gone. The castle. The hall. The guards. Gone!

When I push myself up, my hands sink into the blackest sand. And when I take a breath, I cough and splutter, choking on sulphur and ash.

My snake rises up from where she settles around my wrist, her head poking out and her tongue tasting the magic so palatable in the air. It makes the hair on my arms stand on end.

Danger…

It was like a word whispered into my mind.

My familiar looks up at me, and I know that overwhelming sense of danger is coming from her.

The ground shakes. I stumble to my feet, looking at the endless dunes of midnight black sand stretching on and on until they meet a colossal mountain that steams and smoulders. Above it is a sky of deep purples and reds. Storms rage in the sky. Clouds move as if in turmoil, and lightning streaks across the dark sky.

A low and terrifying growl rumbles through the air, and a sloshing sound from behind has terror coursing through my veins.

Slowly, I turn.

An endless sea of blood stretches on and on. My hand slams over my mouth as I watch the countless bodies thrashing in the blood, wailing and clawing as they try desperately to stay afloat. Their sobbing is desperate and so full of despair.

Thousands of them. Men. Women. Children.

None of them seem to swim towards the safety of the sand. They just tread the blood and release howls of pain and torment.

‘What the hell is this place?' I whisper.

The ground shakes again, and the sound of clinking metal rings out. From beneath my feet, a thick length of chain tears up the ground. The links are bigger than me and thicker than a tree trunk. I follow the chain as it trails into the sea of red.

A hand rises. A fucking massive hand a hundred times bigger than any hand I have ever seen. Its fingers grip the iron chain attached to a manacle around its wrist, and it pulls. The chain is connected to the great mountain behind me, and it creaks and spits fire as the chain is tugged. The ground shakes harder, and the top of a head emerges from the sea of blood.

A woman.

She opens her eyes. The brilliant white and piercing blue is a stark contrast to the deep red coating her hair and skin.

Her gaze falls on me, and her eyes narrow. Those in the sea wail harder and more desperately at her appearance.

‘What the…'

Fear has me rooted to the spot.

The woman continues to rise, her hand reaching out for me and dripping gallons upon gallons of blood from her body. I stumble back, unable to pull my gaze away from her, and land on my backside. Even as her giant hand reaches for me, terror has me stuck firm. Her body is jarred backwards, and she releases a raging scream that has me slamming my hands over my ears.

There's a collar around her neck. A chain dangles between her bare breasts, disappearing into the sea below her. She pulls and pulls but can't break free.

On the manacles around her are symbols etched into the metal. They glow.

Except for the one on her left hand. The manacle remains, but there is no chain. No glowing symbol.

I know that symbol…

She's tethered to the sea floor and shackled to the mountain.

Trapped. Caged.

I don't think I have ever been so utterly terrified. My heart actually feels as though it's stopped, and I'm pretty sure I'm about to drop dead with fright.

I find my voice when hands scoop under my arms and hoist me to my feet. I scream and start attacking, lashing out at whoever has me.

‘QUIT HITTING ME!' Dorian yells, gripping my wrists and taking horrified glances behind me. ‘Gods have mercy on us. How have you brought us here?'

I spin to face the great woman as he pulls me to his chest, wrapping his arm around my belly to keep me close as he continues stepping backwards.

She looks at me and opens her mouth, screaming my name with such ferocity the mountain behind me reacts, spewing fire and lava into the sky.

She lifts her chain and slams it into the ground. Those in the blood claw their way through the thick syrup, desperate to get to her. To reach the great woman who watches us both, their hands seeking her out as they cry and plead.

When she sees Dorian, she tilts her head to the side, her frown deepening like she can't understand what she sees.

‘Shadow Master. Did you bring me my gift? Give her to me, slave.'

Her voice is velvety smooth. It's pure allure and a sensual promise.

Dorian steps back, taking me with him.

‘Give her to me, and I will free you from the blood queen's curse.'

‘Dorian?' I whisper, amazed that any sound made it past the terror swelling in my throat. ‘You know her?'

‘Give her to me,' she repeats, her hand reaching out for us palm up. Her voice so enticing. Alluring. ‘Give her to me as you swore you would.' An entirely different fear grips my heart as I hear those words.

"As you swore you would?"

I look back at him, but there is nothing on his face that tells me he has anything but hatred and fear for this being. I see something else, too. Recognition.

I look back at her, and her name escapes my lips. I know who she is. I know how she knows him, too.

‘The goddess Hel…'

‘Give me my blood slave, Shadow Master.'

‘Run.' He takes my hand. ‘Run, Ashe!'

We flee.

Hel starts to scream, throwing her head back and shaking her head so violently that blood showers us and the beach. It falls like rain from her hair and body as she roars and tugs against her restraints, her hair flying side to side in her rage.

‘Betrayer!' she screams. ‘Liar!'

Dorian drags me on, pulling me further away from the raging monster. But where do we run? If that truly is the goddess Hel herself, then we are in Hell. And there is no escape. We stop only when vines break up from beneath our feet and spread around us. Thick and purple, they resonate with a powerful and ancient earth magic.

‘What are you doing?!' Dorian demands, struggling as the vines entangle themselves around our ankles.

‘It's not me!' I argue back. ‘This magic isn't mine!'

The deep purple vines twist and grow, forming the figure of a man. This creature stands between Hel and us, his whole body nothing more than twisting and writhing vines. He's at least eight feet tall, if not more.

‘ATHIR!' the goddess screams. ‘SHE IS MINE! MINE!'

Hel grips the chain and swipes it hard to the side so it sweeps across the sand.

‘Fuck!' Dorian grunts, watching it head straight towards us. He grips me tight. We're entangled in the vines now, unable to move.

The man of vines reaches out his hand, and more vines shoot from his fingers, stopping the chain dead in its tracks.

He turns, and brilliant purple eyes glow as they meet my gaze.

There is a crown of green leaves and delicate lilac flowers atop his head, and although he is made of nothing but vegetation, I see his smile.

‘Athir…' I breathe. ‘The earth god.'

‘Run, my child. Do not give in to the darkness.' He turns to me, ignoring the screeching blood goddess behind, and kneels before me. His free hand rests on my cheek. A warmth and kindness pass between us, and I lean into him with a long-lost longing I never felt before

‘Daughter. My daughter. You are of me. I am of good. I will help you defeat the blood queen if you let me. When you are ready.'

‘I'm ready,' I reply.

He destroys the magic-stealing cuff around my wrist and frees my magic.

The vines tighten around our legs.

‘Soon, daughter. You will be ready soon.'

We're pulled down.

I reach for Athir and scream his name. I long for him. My God. The giver of all my earth magic.

And now I know.

He's my father, too.

Down we are pulled.

Down. Down. Down.