Chapter 26

26

It had been almost twenty-four hours since I collected the final token. I held up my left hand and traced the remaining brand from Moira with one finger.

Some protector I was.

My stomach churned as I recalled the smell of burned hair and cooked wolf flesh. Intentional or not, I’ve officially declared war on the pack—and Kye. Avoiding it isn’t an option anymore. Though, to be fair, Kye declared war on me when he disowned me and exiled me from the only pack I’d ever known.

Do I care if they hate me? Only as much as I care about ever leaving this house again safely. I know the power riding my body like a discount airline isn’t going to let me die. But the people outside that white picket fence? Most of them don’t even know what magic is. They don’t believe in werewolves and witches, and demonic mobsters.

Or at least they don’t believe it can hurt them. It’s all stories and fantasy and fairytales.

But fairytales? They’re the original horror stories. We pretty them up and turn them into animated love fests. Still, once you get to the point of them, everything is a hunger for power or immortality, or lust, or the consequences for all the above.

Thorn had gone to speak with Chastity, though I begged him to leave her be—and left me alone with my thoughts and the voices in my head.

The second mark he gave me was helping to keep me calm, but with the power on mute, I didn’t know what I could do or how to control it.

Control seemed far more important than removing them at this point. The word was out. Everyone and their wolf would be looking for them, but if I can control it, I can keep all the stones safe and out of any factions’ hands.

Except Thorn’s.

I ignored the thought.

As good as getting the mark felt (along with most incredible sensations I’d ever experienced fully clothed) I needed to think clearly.

My panties threatened to melt at the memory, and I stopped myself. After all, Moira’s shop was not far from here, and Thorn wasn’t trying to have sex.

He was just saving my life—as usual.

But if that’s what he brings when he doesn’t care, I’m hardly surprised that Samara keeps returning for more. Or that she claims him like a favorite toy if any other woman enters the room.

Samara.

She hid the final piece with Moira instead of giving it to Thorn. Considering the timeline, they might even have been together at the time.

My stomach growled at me, ravenous after nearly twelve hours without food. I tested my strength, carefully sitting up and then swinging my feet off the edge of the bed and standing.

So far, so good.

Thorn left you alone when you weren’t well. He shouldn’t have left you.

This insidious whisper ran a field track in my head, over and over, gaining in volume and I tried to shut it out by putting my hands over my ears.

But it doesn’t help. The words are coming from inside of me—from the stones I took in.

He’s lying to you. He’s never around when you need him.

“That’s not true!” I screamed.

He sent you to pack territory by yourself to get the finger. He wasn’t at the church when you needed him. You don’t know him. Don’t know anything about him. He’s playing you.

Something snapped in my head and words running laps around my sanity finally made sense. He was always there to puppeteer me into the next move. Locating the stones. Retrieving them. Urging me to use their power.

I’m twice marked, full of power from gods know where, and I’m being played. I cast about for my boots, but they’re gone, too.

He marked you like you a prized cow to maintain his claim on you.

This last thought infuriated me, and I decided it was time that he and I had it out.

I will not be controlled.

But after searching the bedroom and then the rest of the house, I can not find my boots.

That motherfucker left you here with no shoes so you couldn’t follow him.

I had to get that last stone back from Moira. In my fevered brain that made sense. Get the stone. Let it merge with the others in me and make Thorn tell me the goddamn truth about how he manipulated me the entire time.

I raced out the front door and down the street, numb to the slapping of my bare feet on the pavement, chasing the bus. People are getting off work, and the bus was crowded. Their irritations, frustration and melancholy prickled me until I couldn’t stand it. I jumped off to jog instead.

The streets aren’t much better, and I find myself in the alleys, broken glass biting into my heels as I wind my way to La Sorcière’s back door. I’ll get that finger back from Moira and I’ll give that bitch a piece of my mind.

Except, it’s no longer there. The building isn’t where it should be, and my stomach clamped in my middle.

I jogged to the street to get my bearings. Maybe, I walked a block too far? I’m not used to traveling behind the storefronts. I paced up and down the road, but La Sorcière was nowhere to be found. It’s like the building’s been—shortened, as if a giant hand came down and simply picked up the magic shop, and no one’s the wiser.

Nobody but me.

Back in the alley, I yank a chunk of beer bottle out of my foot with a curse and think. I can’t feel Thorn at all, cut off from him the way I’m cut off from the existence of Moira’s shop.

But there’s one person who will still help me.

I limped for a moment until the pain in my foot ebbed, and then I ran. A few blocks over, the evening crowd thins out to a few people just getting home from work, and no one notices me. Seeing my apartment building still there makes my throat tight and my eyes blur.

Even better, the lights are on in my apartment, and the stairs are easy enough to climb even with heels filled with glass. Chastity will help me. She’s been right all along, and I’ll have to eat a meal’s worth of crow, but she won’t turn me away.

I pushed in the window, and sitting at the counter in my kitchen was Thorn, with a glass of wine in hand. Stunned, I gape at him unnoticed until there’s movement from Chastity’s bedroom. She emerges in little more than a nightgown.

“Oh. Len. Did you come up the fire escape?”

Her voice is hollow in my ears. She could be shouting. I wouldn’t know. I’m underwater, and nothing makes sense.

“Don’t want anything to do with the Syndicate, huh? Thorn’s just a monster mob boss, right?” My voice felt like knives in my throat. “You couldn’t possibly sit down with both of us. But having him over for drinks while I’m—” I stopped short, the demon runes whispering loudly enough to confuse me. “Have you fucked him yet, or should I come back?“

Thorny laughter bubbled in my throat, coming out in a wild cackle. I taste blood and spit it on the floor.

“Elena.“ Thorn’s standing so close it makes me jump. “Why are you here?“

“This is my home.” I slapped at him with my new power, like at Moira’s. But Thorn doesn’t rock back on his feet. He goes flying. “You marked me.” I slapped him again, and even though he was ready for it, he slammed into the wall. “Moira’s gone. La Sorcière is GONE… and you’re here, with my—”

“Len, no, chére.” She reached out, and I felt her honeyed magic oozing over me, looking for my weakness. Part of me knew I must be wrong. She was my best friend, and we love each other.

“Stop. Just fucking stop. I know what you’re doing, you stupid fucking bitch.” I followed the line of that syrupy sweetness back to her and draw it from her, siphoning off her power until she was on her hands and knees, begging me to stop.

“Elena.” Thorn’s voice broke through the white noise in my head, too close to me. I pivot from Chas, and he’s there, staring down at me like I’m some kind of monster. “Elena. Whatever you’re thinking, you know it’s the stones. You can control this.”

I raised a hand and let flames engulf it, turning it to watch it play between my fingers. “You’re right, Thorn. I can control it.” I flicked my fingers, and the tiny blaze burned brighter and whiter than before. I waved my hand, and the flame vanished.

“What I can’t do, is understand why I’m supposed to depend on you because we’re partners.” I flicked my fingers, and the flame returned, now demonic blue, “Why the fuck you’re in my apartment, getting friendly with my roommate, who has spent the last several days telling me you’re shit.”

Thorn blinked at me, then glanced at Chas. “You’re getting a bad read on this, sweetheart.”

I follow his gaze and find her slowly edging toward the kitchen. “Don’t fucking try me, Chastity Angel Redcliff, I will blow your fucking head off.”

She stopped short and raised her hands up in surrender. “I know. Let’s stay chilly, chére.”

“Don’t call me chére,” I growled, letting demon flame envelop my arm. “You’re no better than the wolves. No better than Kye. Everyone I trusted, everyone I cared about, lies!” But I know that’s not true. Not Chas. I try to call the flame back, but I’m sinking into thick, tarry emptiness.

“Chas. Holy fuck. Help me,” I wailed.

Everything is clear for a split second, and I start to pull myself free from the void swallowing my mind. But the power surged, and I fall back in.

“Someone has control of her,” Thorn remarked. I think I hear panic in his voice.

Who the fuck cares. Not me.

“You’re the demon, help her, she’s fighting back and losing.” Desperation colored her voice. “If you don’t help her get control, she’s gonna burn the goddamned block down.”

My neighbors must all be home by this time. If I could get free of the absolute blackness sucking me down and spinning me end over end like a riptide, I’d smell Mrs. Bonèt’s cooking. Maybe I could hear little Patrick Leland practicing piano on his electric keyboard.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Keep thinking. Who else is here for you to protect?” Thorn comes through in the back of my mind, his voice tinny and small against the ocean roar of the power that rides my body.

“Catrina Pierce.”

“Who else?”

“Bonnie Hyde,” Chas adds from behind our marble island. “Bernie White.”

“Bernie White,“ I repeated after her.

“Princess Millie,” she said.

Princess Millie was only six weeks old and perfect. I reached for my power and focused on finding every ounce of demonic force in me. The more I find, the harder I must focus until every last bit is contained in a sphere I envisioned.

The power pushed back, but that’s when I felt it, a little tadpole tail of something that isn’t mine. It’s not the stones, either. I’ve taken them in. They are supposed to be mine, too. “Thorn, someone’s in my head.”

I think of Moira, then the sphere explodes, and with it, the last fraying shreds of my control. There’s a sharp, driving pain at the back of my skull. The world spun, tilted, and went black.