Night's End

Chapter 10

Of course, as soon as I agreed, fear crept up and hit me over the head like a sledgehammer. “Myst won’t really be there, will she? I mean, whatever I see will be a memory, won’t it?”

Ysandra let out a long sigh. “While I want to say yes, and I believe that’s the way this works, there’s always the chance that—in this life—she’ll sense something going on. Magic is nebulous. You know how unpredictable it can be, and there’s always the chance something will go wrong. But if you have to do this, and it sounds like it might be one of our best chances to find a way to defeat her, then I’m going to say that I think we should go for it.”

Grieve entered the room. He stopped at the sight of us. “What’s going on?”

“Ysandra can help me go into the past, to look for ways to battle Myst.” I brushed my hand across my face, weary beyond belief. “Does it matter that I’m so tired that it feels like I’m about to drop?”

Truth was all I wanted to do was crash. I didn’t even care if I managed to get my clothes off, though sleeping in bloodstained leathers wasn’t all that appealing. In fact, now that I thought about it . . . I began to unbuckle the sides of the tunic, and as I did, the smell of dried blood wafted up, and I had to get it off.

“Help me, I need this off now!”

Ysandra jumped to help me, and I noticed that Rhia had already removed hers. Within a couple of minutes, I was standing there, devoid of the armor, but my corset and jeans felt sticky and ripe. The blood hadn’t soaked through to them, and I hadn’t really sweated—I really didn’t perspire much anymore, ever since the initiation—but the feeling of death clung to them.

“Is there anything in the house I can—” I stopped as Ysandra put a hand on my shoulder. She turned me toward her.

“Cicely, breathe. You are panicking. I think . . . So many changes in such a short time . . .”

I wanted to protest, to be the strong Cicely they deserved. But the truth was she was right. Too much death, too much betrayal and betraying. The dominos were falling, and now there was no stopping the chain reaction. I’d been the fuse on the bomb . . . and now the shockwaves were reverberating faster than we could cope with them.

But something about Ysandra’s touch was calming. I closed my eyes and found myself breathing in sync with her. A few moments later, the panic slid from my body, and I opened my eyes. Rhia and Grieve were watching, as Peyton entered the room.

I turned to her, mutely holding out my hands, willing her to understand and forgive me. I couldn’t say the words, but I prayed she could hear them.

She paused, then slowly walked over to face me. “I understand. I can’t forgive you, not quite yet, but I do understand.”

With light fingers, she lifted my hands to her lips and kissed them lightly. “My mother almost killed you. You thought you could trust her, and she turned out to be a traitor. The stakes are so much higher now. We thought we could trust Leo, and he almost killed Rhiannon. This town runs on treachery. You did what you had to. Luna will come to understand. Someday, she’ll understand.”

“Not if she dies first.” I winced, but held my head up, remembering what Lainule and Ysandra had both taught me.

“Maybe . . . Maybe it will take death to help her see. We can’t make choices for other people, Cicely. They have to walk their own paths, even when those paths are dark and fearsome. And Dorthea’s help? We need every hand on board. Even when those hands are shadows from the other side.” She glanced over to Ysandra. “What do you need me to do? I heard everything from the kitchen.”

Ysandra motioned to the sofa. “Cicely, you can lie down for this. Indeed, the fact that you’re already tired will only help us take you into the trance that you need to be in. Peyton, will you get my bag?”

Chatter suddenly popped into the room. “Just got word that the crew from the Consortium are on the edge of town. I’ve sent a contingent of men to guide them back here. Apparently they ran into an altercation a ways out and were held up. They have wounded, but no dead.”

“How long till they get here?” I glanced at the clock, dazed. It felt like we’d been on our feet for days, but it wasn’t even midnight. So much had happened in such a little time.

“Half an hour maybe. I’ll have some of my men get the parlor ready for them—they’ll need a place to stay.” He vanished back into the kitchen.

“Lie down, Cicely. Rhiannon, can you get me a throw to cover her with? Something warm. Even though she belongs to Winter, she needs to keep her body temperature within reason.”

As Rhia left the room, Peyton entered it, handing Ysandra a black bag, like an old-fashioned doctor’s bag. Ysandra opened it, fishing around until she came up with a small bottle that had an eye dropper in it.

“This tincture will help you sleep, and it will make you vulnerable to my suggestions. Therefore, Grieve—you and Rhiannon must be in the room at all time. I don’t want there to be any questions as to what I’ve done, or am doing. Do you understand?”

Rhiannon, who had just returned with an afghan, nodded. “Of course.” She pulled a chair up to sit near my side.

Grieve moved to a stool beside Ysandra. “Make no mistake. If you even make a move that seems like it might hurt her, I will kill you right then and there. No questions, no regrets. Do you understand me?”

Ysandra flashed him a mirthless smile. “Of course I understand. I also know that what I’m about to do won’t be very pleasant for her, but I will explain to you and Rhiannon every step of the way. However, when it comes time to draw her back, I may have to slap her—or otherwise startle her. Cicely, if you get caught in the trance, if you go too deep, I have to be ready to yank you out. There are no guarantees that this will work, but I’ll do everything I can to facilitate it.”

I looked at the bottle. “Will that hurt me, with the fact that I’ve made the transformation to Fae Queen?”

She shook her head. “No—I know for a fact that Lainule used these herbs herself. And there are no fish products in it. There should be no reason why it would harm you, unless you drank the whole bottle. Then it might send your mind into a tailspin, but I doubt it would poison you.”

I accepted the dropper. “How many drops?”

“Let’s start with ten, and see where we go from there. Peyton, kill the lamps, please. And light a couple of candles.” Ysandra held my hand, gazing into my eyes. “Take the tincture, Cicely, then lie back and close your eyes.”

I grimaced as the drops hit my tongue. “Tastes like I’m drinking toad water. Or dirt.”

“It’s the valerian and kava kava. There are other, stronger herbs, but the valerian is pungent and ripe from the earth.” She paused. “Luna?”

I opened my eyes and sat up. Luna was standing there, staring at the proceedings. Her gaze fell on mine.

“What are you doing?” She turned to Ysandra. “Do you need my help?”

“Can you keep your personal feelings out of the way? I could use someone to sing the song of spinning time.”

I wanted to protest—Luna hated me. It had to affect the spell. But Ysandra patted my hand when I reached for her. “Give her leeway, Cicely. Luna is not your enemy, even if—”

“Even if I hate what you did.” Luna finished the sentence. “I can sing the song for you. I won’t do anything else.”

Grieve let out a little growl, but she turned to him. “Your wife is our only hope against Myst. Do you really think I’d do anything to fuck that up? Give me a little credit. I may have little to lose now, with the bargain I’ve pledged, but do you really think that I’d make such a bargain if I didn’t think we needed the help? If I didn’t believe this war was worth dying for? Sit down, Lord Grieve, and let us do our work. Cicely is willing to go through this ritual. She knows what we have to gain from it.”

I wanted to ask how she knew about it, but the tincture was making me dizzy. I lay back again, moaning slightly. But then Ulean was there, by my side.

Luna, is she safe? Will she sabotage this rite?

No, she is not your enemy, Cicely. I found out who it is—but . . . Cicely? Cicely? Can you hear me?

And then, there was a rushing of wind as the world around me began to fade. I couldn’t hear Ulean anymore, but only Ysandra’s voice, droning on and on from a distance. In the background, Luna began to sing, in a language I didn’t understand, but she kept a steady cadence, and I thought I could hear a drum accompanying her. Her voice grew almost shrill, more insistent, as the drums rose in volume, and then I was hearing voices echoing in the drumbeat.

“Listen to me, Cicely, and follow my voice. Follow my thoughts—follow the thread. Can you see the thread of my voice on the slipstream? Can you catch hold of it, focus on it? Let it lead you along.”

I searched the currents, and there—there it was, a silver cord rippling with every word she spoke. It wrapped around me, like a snake, like a lasso, and another tendril rose up to beckon me on. I began to follow, seeing myself in a deep woodland covered with snow. It was not the Golden Wood, though, but darker and deeper—an ancient winding path.

“Follow me down the path. Follow my voice, let it lead you into the past. Let it lead you through the years. See them fly by, the past speeding forward, becoming your future. See time streaming quickly, a blur of motion, as you journey through your past. Back to when you were a child, then to when you were a babe in arms, and then . . . before you returned to this world.”

I wanted to dance, the song was leading me on as much as Ysandra’s words. The music became a focal point, and it seemed to open up the path, making it easier to skate past the years, to travel into history.

And then I saw through my eyes as a child. The world was so new, and yet I had been here before—I could feel the connection to the spirit world out of which I had just emerged. And then—

“Go back, go back, and let the path lead you into the time before time. To the time when this life was only a flicker of possibilities.”

And I was no longer Cicely, but a soul wandering the currents, wading through the slipstream. The wind blew past as I walked through the mists, searching for . . . searching for . . . who was I looking for? I lost track of my name, lost track of my goal. I was floating, wandering, beyond the scope of anyone I’d ever been, too far from the person I would become.

“Hear me—don’t lose track of my voice. Pay attention to my words. Let them lead you back through the gray time, through the time of mist and shadow and uncertainty. Keep moving. You are crossing the path of transition. You must go beyond. There is another door coming up. Go through that door.”

The voice was familiar, but I was no longer clear about who was talking, or the singing that echoed from beyond the veil. But up ahead, a door beckoned, and I slowly, cautiously, opened it. There, on the other side, I saw a young child. She was playing with flowers in a meadow, sitting next to a pond. I stepped into the world, but something felt off. Leaning down, I reached out to touch her chubby fist, which was holding a bouquet of freshly picked daisies.

“Who are you?” I whispered.

She gazed up at me and, with eyes no longer those of a child’s, she shook her head. “We came back too soon. He’s not here. We have to go now, to look for him.” Before I could stop her, she picked up a fat mushroom—red with white spots. I wanted to tell her, Don’t eat that, it will poison you, but the words died in my throat.

She held my gaze, deliberately, slowly putting the fungus in her mouth and chewing. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll find him again. I promise.”

And then she clutched her stomach, and I felt myself being drawn back toward the door. She stood up, leaving her body behind, and ran toward me, running through me—into me—and I felt her essence merge with mine, and we turned to exit the door.

Together, the girl and I moved back into the slipstream—only she was part of me now, and I realized I’d left her behind because she’d seemed so minute, so splintered off. But truly, when I examined her thoughts, young as she was, she was bright and joyful and fiercely brave for her age. She knew what we had to do, and she took my hand, deep in my heart, and promised me that it would be all right.

“What was your . . . my name?” I couldn’t just call her “little girl,” especially when she’d been a part of me.

“Violet.”

We continued through the slipstream, through the winds that were now howling, stirring up the wild mist rolling past like a thick blanket. It smelled of mildew and mold, of graveyards and dusty bones and hopes left in dark closets to wither and die. By now I could no longer hear the voice guiding me, but the song continued, the song of time, the song of spells, the song that spun the thread of my days.

“There.” The little girl’s voice echoed. “A door.”

I turned to see a dark door, cloaked in shadow and dusk. This was our destination. This was our goal. What I was seeking lay beyond. I held tight to her hand. “This is going to be scary. I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

“I don’t think you’re going to like it. You’ve run from it every time you’ve found it before. The story behind it scares you.” Violet didn’t seem afraid, though, and that confused me.

“Why aren’t you frightened? There’s something dark and dangerous behind there.” I hesitantly put my hand on the knob.

“It’s only dangerous if you let it overpower you. You have to be the one in control. I’m not afraid, because I’m already dead. There’s nothing behind there that can hurt me.” Violet’s logic made terrible sense, but it didn’t do much for me.

“But I’m not dead yet—what’s there can hurt me.”

She laughed then, both at me and with me. “Silly goose! You’re not even born yet. Come to think about it, I’m not even born yet. How can something from the past hurt us when we aren’t even alive?”

Her logic made an odd sense. I tried to work my head around it. When I touched lightly on the thought, I knew she was right. We were traveling into the past. How could the past hurt us when we were mere flickers of what might be? But when I tried to reason it out, to wrap my mind around the concept, I lost all sense of reality, and everything became a blur. I decided to take Violet’s advice.

“Okay, then. I guess we just go in. Do you know what I’m looking for? I seem to have lost my memory.”

Violet shook her head. “No, but you’ll know when you find it. That’s how these things work, right? Otherwise, why would you be here?”

Pausing, I mulled over her words. “Seems good to me. Let’s go then.” And with that I put my hand on the shadow-cloistered door and opened it. And as Violet and I went tumbling into a world of snow and ice and silvery spiderlike beings, she blended into me and became a part of my heart and soul.

Inhaling deeply, I opened my eyes and realized I was seeing through someone else’s body. And yet, the body felt incredibly familiar. I wasn’t sure who I was, or why I was here—wherever here was—but there was something I was searching for, and I could only discover it in this place, in this time. The memory of a song lingered, and the memory of a voice guiding me down a long hallway encased in mist, and there was the whisper of a little girl echoing in my head, but other than that, I had no clue as to what I was about or where I was.

I looked around. I was standing outside a hillock—a Barrow of sorts, and it was covered in deep snows. The trees surrounding it were weighed down with heavy blankets of white, their branches frozen to the ground. The air was clear, so clear it hurt my lungs, and the sky was that pale eggshell blue of dawn, but a storm was coming in—I could feel it in my bones. The energy of the storm was bringing heavy snow and snow-lightning, and it promised a renewal, recharging with its fury.

As I spread my arms wide, welcoming the coming fury, my stomach rumbled, and I realized that I was aching, so thirsty and hungry I was. A cunning swelled up, a desire to seek, to chase, to hunt, and I cast my eye around for possible prey. As I scouted out, following a faint scent that I caught on the wind, I saw him. He was tall and lean, and his clothing was barely enough to keep him from turning blue.

I squirmed as I stood there, and when I looked down, I realized I was naked—or nearly. A gossamer gown, silver threads loosely woven in a lacework pattern, hung lightly from my shoulders, but I could see through it the weave was so loose. My breasts, my stomach, my legs—my entire body was faintly cerulean, and with wonder, I ran my tongue over my teeth, feeling their razor-sharp edges pierce the flesh. Drops of blood welled up on my tongue, and their salty, metallic tang increased my hunger.

I lowered myself behind a nearby bush, as the man began to come my way. He hadn’t seen me yet, and I had the feeling that if he knew I was here, he’d be running. All the more reason to be patient—to lie in wait like the snow weavers my mother kept as pets.

My mother? The image of a tall queen rose up, stretching over the sky, blotting out the morning light. Thinly jointed, with angular eyes and a pale, dangerous beauty, her visage was imprinted on my heart, and I realized I loved her with a passion. She was my everything. She was my all, my role model, my goddess. And I was her beloved daughter.

Cherish. That was my name. I was Cherish—and I was my mother’s daughter in every way.

Well, almost every way. The voice inside annoyed me, and I tried to push it away, but it wasn’t so easily silenced. You know I’m right. You know that you have something your mother doesn’t, and that something might someday be her downfall when you rise up to take your rightful place as her heir to the throne.

A flash of anger raced through me.

“I’m no traitor. I will never betray my mother. If the throne comes to me, it will be through her choice—not mine.” My whisper barely touched the wind, but the slipstream caught it, carrying it deep onto the currents racing around the world.

You have no choice. Destiny will out. The strong always overcome the weak. It’s evolution. It’s what created your mother in the first place.

“Hush.” I shoved the thoughts aside as my prey neared the bush. He paused, and I realized he had sensed something was wrong. Maybe he heard my whisper, maybe he caught my scent. Whatever the case, there was no time to waste. I leaped out, landing in front of him, in a crouch.

He took one look at me and screamed, turning to flee. As I began to change, morphing into my beast, I reveled in the power of my jaws, of the bones shifting and lengthening. My head grew, my jaws transformed into a death vise, and I let out a laugh while I still could, from deep in my belly. A laugh of joy, pure and wallowing in the pain that I knew would follow.

My stomach rumbled, the hunger pushing me on, the lust for his blood and bone and life force so strong that there was nothing more in the world. The only thing that existed was my desire—and nothing, no plea for mercy, no stray thought, could assuage the hunger. Nothing except the feel of his gristle in my mouth, of the hot blood sliding down my throat. I lunged, jaws agape, and his screams punctuated the birdsong echoing through the early morning.

Later, satiated with a full belly, I used the snow to clean myself off. The hunger was at bay for now, and it was time to go home. My mother was waiting for me. There was something she had wanted to discuss with me earlier, but I’d blown her off in exchange for a little time outside by myself. Sometimes the din in the Barrow seemed overwhelming, and I had to get away from the noise.

I headed into the Barrow, ignoring the milling throng of our people. They were all descended from my mother, in a way. Myst had given birth to our race; the first ones were turned by her after the mad vampire had come up with his scheme. But he’d been weak, and my mother had grown stronger than he.

Once she told me that, after the turning, she’d realized he could never be her match, and so he became her enemy. And now, all vampires—the true vampires—were our foes. We were the rightful heirs to their lineage, we’d evolved far beyond their archaic powers, but they wouldn’t accept that we were the next step in their evolution, and so we were always at war with them.

They didn’t know we’d journeyed to this new land, though. Myst had kept it a secret, leaving some of our people behind to build a community in the old world, even as we’d discovered the vast, unspoiled wilderness here. There was room here, room in which to spread and breed.

Our kind reproduced slowly—and painfully. Mothers sometimes died in childbirth, their children ripping their way out of the womb. But I hadn’t done so to my mother. I’d come into the world easy enough, though who my father was remained a mystery and always would. It didn’t matter, though. I was Myst’s daughter, heir to the Indigo Court, and I would help her reach out and take control of this land. Together, we would build an empire of blood and bone.

As I made my way into our private chambers, I looked around for Myst, but she was nowhere in sight. There was a serving girl nearby and I grabbed her by her hair and yanked her over to my side.

“Where’s Queen Myst? Do you know?”

She sputtered, letting out a little growl, but I fisted her hair tighter and let go. She dropped to the ground at my feet. “Last I saw of her, she was in her bedchamber, Princess.”

“Go, then. Get about your work.” I kicked her out of the way, lightly though. It furthered nothing to damage the help. Put them in the infirmary and somebody else had to do their job.

I headed to my mother’s chamber and was about to knock on the door when I heard something from inside. It was a groan—the sound of pain. Worried, I cracked the door and peeked inside.

There, lying on her bed, was my mother. Two Ice Elementals stood over her, and to the side, one of our healers. The Elementals were standing to either side of her, their arms outstretched over her body, and she was writhing, a look of pain sweeping across her face. Sparkles flickered in the air above her chest—a spray of magic filtering through the room, silver and white, and the color of the deep indigo that hits right before dusk. They swirled, like the stars in our eyes.

Slowly, I closed the door behind me and edged my way behind the floor-length curtain that draped over the wall. No one had noticed me; they were so focused on Myst and what was happening. The healer looked nervous, and he was muttering something beneath his breath.

I focused on the slipstream, trying to catch his words.

I don’t know if this will work. . . . Please don’t let her die. . . . Please let this work. . . . He was frightened. That much came through.

Wanting to burst out into the open, to ask what the hell they were doing to her, I caught myself and kept quiet. If I interrupted, whatever they were involved in might go awry, and my mother would be furious with me. So I stood back, watching and waiting.

The thrumming in the room grew stronger, so loud it was like a flurry of bees in my head. Wincing, I covered my ears as my mother’s cries grew stronger. But I couldn’t look away.

And then I saw it—the swirls began to coalesce and take shape, forming into a pool of liquid energy over the center of her heart. A stream of light poured from her body into the pool as it whirled, turning like some mad dervish in the thrall of his dance. I’d seen them, somewhere, when I was very young, though I couldn’t remember much about it. In some street somewhere, before we raced in and ravaged the townsfolk. He’d been spinning like a top, spinning like he was centered on a string that dizzily wavered round and round.

The energy over my mother shimmered, a diamond forming in blue and silver, but there was something about the whole thing that felt off—something was out of kilter.

I struggled to remember what she’d taught me about her early days, before the Turning. Before she’d founded the Indigo Court. She’d been a member of the Unseelie—the Dark Fae, and she’d watched as her sister ascended to the throne to become the Queen of Winter. My mother had thought the honor would go to her, but she’d been overlooked. Story after story flooded back, her resentment and anger echoing through my memories.

And then I realized what she was doing. My mother was creating her own heartstone. She was mocking the Courts of Fae by using their sacred ritual on herself. Somehow, she must have stumbled across the information on how this was done, because it wasn’t common knowledge—that much was for sure. And now she was removing part of her essence to a sacred gem, to hide it and keep it safe. She was assuring her immortality.

As I watched, she let out a piercing scream as a white-hot pinprick of light shot up from her chest to the center of the sapphire. The stone began to take physical form, an emerald cut that was so dark blue it was almost black. But inside, sparkles of silver and white gave it life—my mother’s life force, encased within the heart of the jewel. As long as it survived, so would she.

Another moment, and the Ice Elementals placed the jewel in a silver box and stepped away from the bed. Myst slowly sat up, groaning, as the healer hurried to her side. He checked her pulse, her eyes; he pressed his ear to her chest to listen to her heart.

“Well, is it done?” Myst smiled down at him, a gentle tone in her voice. He was her favorite. He’d been with her for many years and had brought me into the world. I liked him, as much as I could like anybody.

“It is done, Your Highness. Your heartstone has been created, and now one thing remains. You must hide it.” He gave her a faint smile. “You know what will happen should the Court of Rivers and Rushes or the Court of Snow and Ice find out what you’ve done. They will hunt it down and destroy it. You cannot let the information out that this ritual has taken place.”

She gave him a solemn nod. “I do know that. We’ve broken every rule the Greater Courts set forth. Over the years, we’ve torn the rules to shreds and then destroyed the remnants. But you are wrong about one matter, dear friend. Old friend. More than one thing remains to be done before I am safe.”

He cocked his head, staring at her. A look of pale recognition crossed his face, and I knew what was going to happen. My mother hadn’t noticed me yet, nor had the Elementals or the healer. Myst was so preoccupied that she wouldn’t feel me near.

“Old friend, the Ice Elementals are loyal to me, and unswerving, and they will never speak. But the problem with secrets? When two people know about something, that thing is no longer sacrosanct. No longer a secret. You know this, don’t you?” She slipped off her bed, already healed from her ordeal. Our kind healed incredibly fast.

He stuttered, stepping back. “I give you my word, Your Highness.”

“Unfortunately, words are only as good as their speakers. And while I love you, I can never trust you.” And with that I watched as my mother fell upon the healer, ripping him to shreds with her great jaws. She was a most magnificent creature, huge beyond the rest of us, and by the time she finished, there was neither bone nor drop of blood left. She licked the floor clean before returning to her form.

The Ice Elementals stood unwavering, waiting for her. With one last look at the bedchamber, she depressed a place on the wall and a secret door opened—one I’d never seen before. I stayed where I was. I loved my mother, but I knew, instinctively, that if she even so much as thought I might know about this, she would kill me. I’d be as dead as the healer, her daughter or not.

Followed by the Ice Elementals carrying the silver box, Myst stepped into the passageway. As the door closed behind her, I realized that I now knew what my mother’s vulnerability was. She was as vulnerable as every other Fae Queen now. Find her heartstone, and she was a dead woman.

And with that as I turned to exit the chamber, I heard a voice calling my name. Only it wasn’t my name—close, but not the same. But I couldn’t resist. The pull was too strong.

“Cicely? Cicely! Can you hear me?”

The voice began to blur the world around me. Who was Cicely? And yet, a part of me answered, “I’m Cicely.” But then, the image of a little girl flashed in front of my eyes and I thought, “No, I’m Violet.”

Stumbling, I turned to the door, but it wasn’t there. Instead, I was standing in a current of mist, and I blindly fell into the slipstream, following the siren song luring me on.