Chapter Sixty

"Gen!" Kierse gasped. "Ethan!"

She stepped toward her friends, but Graves held her back. She wanted, needed to go to them. But she couldn't. Not with Lorcan and those knives between them. Even with the spear, they would be dead before she got to them.

"Kierse!" Ethan cried. "Oh god, Kierse."

"Are you hurt?"

"We're okay," Gen said. A tear ran down her cheek. Her chest heaved slightly. "It'll be okay."

Kierse whirled on the Druid. "Lorcan, what are you doing? They're innocent. Let them go."

He straightened at her assessment. He was dressed in a navy three-piece suit, his tie knotted at his neck, his brown leather shoes polished to perfection. His beard had been trimmed, and his dark hair fell over his forehead. She could see a holster for a pair of guns against his sides, and his hand lay casually on a black blade.

"Hello, Kierse." His eyes were welcoming. Not at all the predator he posed in Graves's home. "You didn't answer any of my texts."

"You'd think you'd get the message."

"He broke through the wolf lockdown," Gen said through tears.

"The Dreadlords were all chained up for the moon. There was nothing we could do," Ethan added.

"This isn't your fault," she insisted. "I'm so sorry."

"This goes against our arrangement, Lorcan," Graves said with lethal calm.

"Oh, does it? I wasn't aware," he asked with amusement. "Did you think I would miss tonight?"

A muscle feathered in Graves's jaw. "What do you hope to get out of this?"

"I thought that was rather obvious. The magical artifacts that belong to my people." Lorcan's gaze drifted from the spear in Kierse's hand to the sword in Graves's. "You had to know that it would come to this, Brannon."

Graves flinched at the name.

"Oh, does no one call you that anymore?" Lorcan laughed, but it was a cold, vicious laugh. Like he'd known how it would hit. "You cannot go around collecting Druidic artifacts and expect no one to notice."

"I knew you would notice," Graves growled. "It is another matter for you to enter my home unprovoked. There are consequences."

"Tonight is the only night that isn't true."

"Why?" Kierse demanded.

"Have you not told her?" Lorcan asked. "No, of course not. Secrets all around."

"She knows," Graves said. He adjusted his grip on the sword. "It's not quite midnight. Why don't we take this outside?"

Lorcan chuckled. "No, I think this is the perfect place for this. The Holly Library, you're calling it now, Graves. A little on the nose, don't you think?"

Then she looked between them. Graves surrounded by holly, a wren beside him. Lorcan across from him on the winter solstice. She remembered the oak trees lining his property. The acorn on his business card. The clean, crisp scent whenever she was around him. All he was missing was a robin, and he'd be the consummate Oak King.

"Oh," she gasped as the pieces all notched into place.

Lorcan sketched a bow in her direction. "The Oak King at your service."

"How?" she whispered.

"I wish we knew. No matter what we do, we can't escape each other. Unfortunately, you're part of this now, Kierse. I would have spared you and your friends. But there are consequences to the theft of my property." Lorcan smiled like a fox as his attention returned to Graves. "You can give it back, and then no hard feelings."

"I don't care about stories or your artifacts or your stupid petty war," Kierse snapped at Lorcan, taking a menacing step forward. "Release my friends now."

"If you don't care, then hand it over." Lorcan held his hand out.

The spear. She could hand Lorcan the spear and get her friends.

But Kierse couldn't give the spear to Lorcan. Despite whatever persona he showed to her, however friendly or connected he wanted her to believe they were, this was proof of what lay beneath that facade. He was a killer. She should have never unlearned that lesson. He would do whatever it took to get what he wanted. And if he had the spear, then he'd win.

The weapon hummed at her touch, pushed into her dark emotions. But she was more clearheaded than she had been while running for her life. She ignored the thoughts. She wouldn't risk her friends.

"I didn't think so," Lorcan said.

"How did you find out?" Graves asked.

"Well, I suspected for a long time. I knew that you had the sword. Thank you for getting it for me," Lorcan said with a smile. "We already turned the place over looking for it, and now, it's right here. But the spear—we didn't know where it had been lost. Just that you wanted it." Lorcan shifted his gaze to Kierse. "Then Kierse started disappearing into Third Floor like a little mouse, which I found... curious. And what did I find when I got someone inside? The spear was with King Louis and he was having a winter solstice party."

"Fuck," Kierse hissed.

"I know how you work, Graves," Lorcan said with a head tilt. "That was your play. I just had to wait for you to bring it back to me."

Graves's eyes darkened. She could read in the clench of his jaw that he hated that Lorcan knew him well enough to be right. "How did you get the wards down?"

"How do we do anything, brother?" Lorcan threw the word at him like an insult.

Graves ground his teeth. Kierse looked between them in confusion. Brothers?

"You performed a ritual to take them down, using the liminal time to heighten your abilities."

Lorcan performed a slow golfer's clap. "Indeed. We picked the day for the same reason you did. Magic is stronger on a solstice. It's all about balance."

"Fuck your balance," Kierse spat.

"Are we done with the QA?" Lorcan asked pleasantly, as if they were meeting over tea and he didn't have her friends behind him crying. He rose to his feet, casually dusting invisible dirt off of his suit. "I would like to get on with the show."

"What show?" Kierse asked.

Lorcan withdrew a pistol from his jacket and slung it up, aiming at Ethan's chest. "Give me the spear or I kill your friend."

Graves was motionless. "Lorcan," he hissed.

"No!" Kierse was frantic.

This couldn't be happening. It was an impossible choice. And yet so easy. She would give Lorcan the spear. But... she couldn't possibly give him the spear. He'd just kill them anyway.

"Why are you doing this?" Kierse asked. "We could have worked together."

"No, we couldn't," Graves said simply.

"Graves and I have been fighting for five hundred years," Lorcan said. "Why stop now? That's no fun."

"You're a monster," she snarled.

Lorcan narrowed his eyes slightly. He looked offended. "I am not the monster. Whatever story he has spun for you is a falsehood. I can assure you of that, because I was there five hundred years ago when he ruined our friendship. When he went from being my brother to being the sick, twisted thing he is today. He is scum, and he is using you, Kierse. As he uses everyone in his life. He destroys them all bit by bit, day by day. A virus, a parasite, a leech. No better than the other monsters he has such scorn for. He drains you of your life energy and then tosses you aside when you prove no longer useful."

"He is not resorting to death threats!" she shouted.

"You see how he doesn't even defend himself," Lorcan added, gesturing to Graves. "He can't. What I say is the truth. It's hard to see from your position, little songbird, but I am the hero of this tale. The Druids are beacons of good in this world. Graves and his ilk are the demons in the night, the villains."

"If you are so good, then let them go."

"I'm afraid that I can't do that," Lorcan said almost regretfully. "You have something I want, and I know Graves too well to think that talking will change his mind. Only action. Isn't that right, brother?"

"I will not change my mind," Graves agreed, "but you are not innocent in this."

"Not innocent?" Lorcan looked furious, as if he might fling the gun in Graves's direction and shoot. His eyes switched to Kierse. "You want to know why we hate each other so? Graves murdered my sister in cold blood with his bare hands."

Kierse's stomach twisted. Her eyes flicked to Graves in question. But he wouldn't even look at her. He was wholly focused on Lorcan.

"Emilie was sixteen years old, and he took her life just like that." Lorcan snapped his fingers. "And we'll never get her back."

Kierse swallowed. "I am sorry for that. But two wrongs don't make a right. If you kill my friends today, then you are no better than he is."

"It brings me no joy to have to do this. You simply don't understand what you carry," Lorcan said.

"Don't condescend to me. I can feel its power. I know what it is."

"You can feel it, but you can't possibly know. You have never been to Ireland. You have never strode across the Moors. You have never stood where the gods once stood on our lands. This is just a spear to you," he growled. "To us... it is heritage. It is home."

"That doesn't give you the right to kill anyone."

"Sacrifices are part of our rituals, and rituals produce power. So, it won't all be for nothing. You have a choice. You can either hand me the spear or watch your friends die. It's your choice."

"Lorcan, no," she snapped.

The gun went off with a loud crack. Kierse screamed, wrenching forward as if she could stop the bullet from hitting her friends. Gen's and Ethan's screams mingled with hers, but then they all saw that a shot had hit the floor in front of them.

"Next time, I won't miss," Lorcan threatened. "The spear, Kierse?"

Fear raced through her. He was only going to fire a warning shot once. The next one would land in a body, not the floor.

"Okay," Kierse said. "Okay. Just stop. Please!"

"Good," Lorcan said with a triumphant smile. "Much better. Now, hand it over."

Kierse nodded. "All right."

Graves put his hand out to stop her. "You can't."

"I know," she told him as tears tracked down her cheeks. "Don't you understand? I can't lose them. I can't lose my family."

The fire in his eyes guttered out, but still he stepped forward. "You cannot give this to him."

"I can't suffer the consequences."

"That's right," Lorcan said. "Give me what is rightfully mine. Don't let him deter you."

Graves grasped her arm, a firm, steady grip. "Listen to me. Lorcan will kill everyone in this room if you give him that spear. It is the only reason you are still on your feet. You can't be foolish enough to do this."

Her eyes were wide and cloudy as she looked up at him. "He has my weakness. That is how he can do it. I am sorry that you have no weakness."

"Hmm," Lorcan said softly. He glanced between them. "Oh, but he does." He swiveled in place, aiming the gun at Kierse's chest. "Does the villain believe this is love?"

"Stop," Graves said, cold and lethal.

"Do you think you deserve to feel this way after what you did to Emilie?"

"This is not about our past."

"Isn't it?" Lorcan demanded furiously. "You think that you can move on. That you need to no longer suffer for what you stole from me, from our people, from the world. You do not deserve someone like her. You do not deserve anything."

"If you shoot her, it will be the biggest mistake of your life," Graves snarled.

He tried to inch his way in front of Kierse, but Lorcan fired his gun at their feet. Kierse shrieked and jumped backward, away from the bullet.

"Ah ah, don't move." Kierse froze in place, and Graves mirrored her. "I don't think this would be a mistake. You give me the sword, and I don't shoot her. That seems fair."

Kierse couldn't even process his words. Graves wouldn't give up the sword for her. It was impossible.

"You will regret this," Graves warned him.

"Why? Because you'll come after me?"

"I will," he said easily, "but no. Because of this."

Then Graves moved at his blinding speed. He shifted in front of her, blade raised. For a moment, she thought that he was going to lunge at her. That he was going to finish it so that Lorcan couldn't use her against him. But instead, he held the blade up to her face.

"Show the truth," Graves told the blade.

He dragged the sword down her body from her shoulder diagonally across her navel and to her other hip. She shuddered under the weight of it. Her instinct was to pull up the spear to use against the sword. But those weren't her thoughts; it was the spear. It was the power the sword wielded. The truth it released.

She trembled, a cold sweat spreading across her skin. Her heart rate picked up, and she thought she might pass out. She gasped and clenched her hands into fists. Her knuckles were white where she grasped the spear tightly in her hand. This wasn't painful but disorienting and uncomfortable. As if she had always been walking underwater and was now on land.

She flexed her fingers and felt light as a feather. Fiery blue light threaded with gold suffused her entire body, a swirling glow that slithered and pulsed as if it had a life of its own. Then, as the last of the power of the sword unleashed upon her, the magic burst like fireworks, breaking apart into a million little pieces before settling back into her skin.

Then he finished. And she felt lighter. As if she had been in chains and now was set free.

"What... did you do to me?" she whispered.

"I revealed who you truly are... what you truly are."

Lorcan's eyes went as wide as saucers as he jumped to his feet. "It can't be. They're all dead."

"Not all of them, apparently," Graves told him.

"What... what am I?"

Fear crept into her voice. Finally, the answer to all of her questions. And yet, she almost didn't want to know. Couldn't bear it. Yet, at the same time, she had to know.

Lorcan dropped his arm, lowering the gun to his side. His voice was reverent as he told her the information she had she had always wanted.

"A wisp."