Chapter Fifty-Nine

The Holly King.

In the flesh.

And she was his wren.

She shuddered at the shape of the words. They sounded the same as when Gen made a prophecy. They sounded true.

It seemed impossible that myth and legend could be manifested in this way, and yet it was impossible to ignore. Her winter god was before her, and today was his day—the winter solstice. No wonder she had felt their linking. It had been as destined as it felt.

"What does that mean?" she gasped. "How am I your wren? I don't understand."

"The Holly King is the power of winter," he said through gritted teeth. "It's a manifestation of the energy of the season itself. I come into the height of my power on the summer solstice, and it wanes after the winter solstice."

"I know that. Because of the battle with the Oak King."

"Yes. The Oak King has his robin, his bird a symbol of the coming fall. And I have a wren, my symbol of the oncoming of spring."

"But I'm a bad omen," she said. "I'm... the bird that dies after Christmas."

"You are, but until then, you enhance my power," he admitted. "I'm at my height right up until the end of the longest night of the year."

"Tonight," she whispered.

"That's right." His gaze slid to hers as they took another turn deeper through the tunnel system.

"But Kingston said... he said that it didn't work out for you," she said, slotting together all the pieces from the last couple of weeks. The words others had said about her being a wren that she hadn't understood until now.

Graves averted his gaze again. "Yes, well, I gain more power, but ultimately, after the solstice, you are my downfall."

She blinked in shock. "Then why... why would you work with me?"

"Our mission ended tonight. It was a gamble worth taking," he admitted just as the light of the end of the tunnel came into view. Then he shifted his grip on Torra. "I never..." He actually stumbled on his words. "I never planned to fall for you. That wasn't part of the plan."

She swallowed. "I don't... understand."

"It's poetic," he said softly. "To fall for the source of your own destruction."

She still had so many questions. More questions than answers as always with Graves, but then they reached the end of the tunnel.

Graves hoisted Torra over his shoulder and then climbed up the ladder. She followed with the spear in hand. When she reached the top, Graves hauled her up into the subway tunnel.

They continued in silence, jogging to the exit and scrambling up into the longest night of the year. The winter solstice. The last night of Graves's heightened power. They had made it. They had survived with the spear in hand.

Torra roused as they exited into the evening air.

She shifted groggily. "You can put me down."

Graves put her carefully onto her feet, shucking off his jacket and sliding it around Torra's bare shoulders.

Torra wobbled slightly. "Thank you."

"Can you give us a minute?" Kierse asked Graves.

He gestured to the car idling on the street. Their escape plan. Kierse nodded at him and watched him head toward it.

Torra tipped her head back and took a good, long breath of fresh air. "I never thought I'd see the sky again."

Kierse frowned. "I'm so sorry, Tor."

"But you saved me. You got me out," she said with a harsh inhale. "I'll never be able to repay that."

"No repayment needed. This was righting a horrible wrong."

"And he's really gone."

Kierse nodded. "He's really gone."

Torra swallowed back tears. "Hard to believe."

"What are you going to do?"

Torra smiled, and it was the first happy expression Kierse had seen on her face since they reunited.

"Whatever I want. I'm free."

Torra pulled her into a hug. Kierse held her tight, relieved that she had saved at least one person in all that madness. She hoped Louis's downfall would put a stop to the Men of Valor's machinations, but she didn't know that it would for a fact. At least he wouldn't be able to prey on innocents anymore.

"You could come with us," Kierse said. "Graves could help you."

Torra's eyes went to the monster waiting at the black car. "I don't think that's my path."

"Then go to Colette," Kierse said when she pulled back. "Nate is on lockdown for another night of the full moon. He can help you after that."

She swallowed. "You think they'll still want to help me?"

"We've all missed you," Kierse insisted. "They'll help whatever you decide."

"Thank you, Kierse." She started to take off Graves's jacket.

"Keep it. I'm sure he has a million of them." Torra nodded. "Are you sure we can't drive you somewhere?"

"I think tonight, I just want to walk," she said, and then, before Kierse could utter another word, Torra turned and headed the other direction.

Kierse hated letting her go, but she knew a freedom walk when she saw one. She'd done what she had set out to do. Torra was free.

Graves pulled the door open for her without a word as she headed his direction. They climbed inside, and Graves said, "Drive."

The car lurched forward. And the silence was filled by the sounds of their heavy breathing. Kierse set the spear carefully in her lap. She was glad to not be holding it, but a part of her wanted to pick it up again. It was a sickness.

"Let me see it," he said.

She shook her head. "I don't think it wants me to let it go."

"It speaks to you?"

"If that's what you call it." She shivered. "It seems to want to impose its will on me."

"That is the essence of the spear. It derives from the story of Lugh himself, who was so skilled that he outsmarted the doorkeeper to be allowed into the court of the Tuatha Dé Danann," Graves explained. "Only when the gods were outmatched in a great battle did they appoint Lugh their commander. There, he used the spear to slay their enemies."

"Well, it would certainly like to do that right now," she said, her fingers grazing the long handle.

"Then it is alive as well."

She raised her eyebrows as a sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. "What do you mean, ‘as well'?"

His eyes were still on the spear as he spoke. "You already know that of which you ask."

Kierse racked her brain. "You have another one."

But he didn't answer that question, to which she surely already knew the answer. Instead, he said, "There are four magical objects—the spear, the sword, the cauldron, and the stone. After the gods left, the artifacts were thrown across the world, their locations unknown for centuries. Only whispers popped up about each of them. The spear was always the loudest, as it is nigh unstoppable. I have been searching for them for many years."

"For all four of them?"

"Yes," he said simply. "They belong to me as much as any other. My mother was descended of the magical line who worshipped the Tuatha Dé Danann. Anyone who is of the line could lay claim to them. Why not me?"

She remembered him saying that he had gone to Ireland, to the people of his mother's line. She hadn't realized that he meant this line. Magical worshippers of ancient Celtic gods.

Frankly, she couldn't process that at the moment. What was important was that he had another object than the spear. He was halfway to his goal.

"Which one do you already have?" she asked.

"The sword," Graves said. "You hold the spear. There are two more out there yet to be discovered."

"What are you going to do with them?"

He considered for a second. "A spell."

"And what does this spell do?"

Graves's expression went perfectly flat at the question. "Very powerful magic."

And that was all she was going to get.

Despite everything that had happened between them over the last couple of weeks, he still didn't trust her with the full truth. She had known from the beginning that this was how it would be. She had wheedled answers out of him the entire way, but he had been keeping his actual intentions close to the vest the entire time. She shouldn't even have been surprised, but somehow, she was.

Kierse kept her hand on the spear as they drove through the wintry New York streets and into the underground garage.

As they pulled to a stop, she asked, "Will you show me the sword?"

"If you like."

She picked up the spear, ignoring its tempting words, and headed out of the car. Kierse followed him to a wall of the garage, where he ran his hand down to reveal a slit in the stone. Graves used his magic to unseal it first. Next was a retinal scanner and a fingerprint before it made a puff of air and opened to reveal a hidden room. Inside the room was a vault—very new, very shiny, very impenetrable. And on top of the high-tech system, wards were etched into the giant thing. Graves was not fucking around.

After he disengaged a system of locks and released the wards, what lay within was finally revealed.

Only one object—a shining blade.

"The Sword of Truth," Graves said, taking it in his hand.

Kierse's eyes widened. She could feel the blinding light, its own perfect blend of magic. The opposite somehow to the spear that she held in her hand.

Destiny and power enough to make the world tremble.

"What does it do?" she whispered in awe. The spear radiated in her hand, this close to another artifact.

Graves lifted the blade parallel to his face. "It shows the truth in all things."

Another truth was whispering in her ear.

Something is wrong.

Then she felt it. The house was... silent.

Not just sound but magic.

"The wards are down."

Graves's gaze cocked toward the house. "Someone is here."

They rushed out of the vault, spear and sword in hand, taking a set of emergency stairs that led to the first-floor landing. Then up the next flight to the Holly Library, where the doors lay ajar and a sliver of light shone through.

Graves raised the sword, blazing his path as they entered the room as one. She nearly lost her grip on the spear when she saw what awaited them inside the library. Gen and Ethan were held by Druids with knives at their necks.

At the center, seated like royalty, was Lorcan Flynn.