Her jaw dropped as she watched Lir roar, shaking the earth with his fury as the sky unleashed a torrent of rain. He moved so quickly, she didn’t quite see his hands snap his brother’s neck, but she heard the horrible crunch of bone and sinews. Seconds later, Jacques ran his sword through Valac.
Fiona’s hands shook. They’d done it. It had been horrible, but they’d won. Through the driving rain, she gave Tobias a weak smile. His eyes blazing, he walked to her, past the lifeless Guardians.
She opened her palms, glancing down for the relic, but froze in place. Her hands were empty.
Dread enveloped her, and she whirled around to find Jack, standing side by side with Munroe.
53
Jack
Watching Fiona ascend into the night sky, he’d had to catch his breath. She’d held a rangy Picaroon in her arms, flinging him to the earth like a child hurling a despised toy. Somehow, she’d managed to become an acolyte of Nyxobas, granting her the night god’s powers. Jack’s true love had faced her own destruction and come out the other side, a stunning agent of death. Gods, she was perfect. He would do anything for her.
But he’d needed to tune her out, and he’d forced himself to scan the earth, searching for something that looked like a bone until his eyes had fixed on a tiny sliver of white. It had only taken a few seconds for him to snatch it.
“Jack?” Munroe gripped his arm. “Do you have it? Can we get out of here?” Her pale skin shone like a beacon in the stormy night, and he caught a glimpse of fear in her eyes. He felt a strange swell of protectiveness.
His gaze locked on Fiona, who stood before him, staring. Death at her hands seemed almost tempting. Gripping the bone tighter, he glanced at the fire demon—the reason she’d been fighting. The realization rose in him like a sickness.
“Jack,” she said. “Give us the relic.”
Munroe tugged his arm. “What’s wrong with you? Let’s go!”
Fiona’s darkened eyes bored into him, and he felt a desperate urge to take her face in his hands and kiss her, as he had in Boston. This might be the last time he’d ever see her. But she didn’t want him. She wanted the fiery Tatter boy.
Could I be happy with anyone else? Jack glanced at Munroe, who sidled up to him as close as she could. It was good to feel needed. And for some insane reason, Munroe seemed to have faith in him.
He just had to break Fiona’s heart if he wanted to save himself.
Then again, if he was good at one thing, it was gnawing through bone.
Lifting the relic to his mouth, he bit down, gnashing through the center of the bone. When he swallowed the hard lump, he felt his body fill with a clean, white light. His chest felt lighter, as if the vines crushing his heart had suddenly withered away. As winds whispered, his mind blazed with beautiful images. The orchard in Salem. Elizabeth’s pale skin. Fiona—telling him she would sweep the monsters away. His phantom life with her, swept away, replaced by Munroe in a butter-yellow house in the woods, drenched in jewels.
When he opened his eyes, voices rang in his head. The voices of the dead—hundreds of years of his victims, calling his name. He clamped hands to ears. “Not now!” he roared. The voices fell silent again. He owed them his attention, but he’d have to deal with them later.
Fiona stared at him, arms crossed. Waiting to find out if she needs to rip out my heart, or if I’m going to save her little friend.
His eyes lingered on her body, coiled with energy. “Don’t worry, my love. I saved some for your Tatter.” He tossed the other half of the bone to the fire demon.
Tobias’s hands clamped around it, but the fire of hatred never left his dark eyes. Fair enough, Jack decided. I don’t care for him either. But she does.
Fiona heaved a sigh of relief, rushing to her beloved demon. Sickening, really—the stupid devotion between them. And me, left here to watch.
His muscles tensed as the sound of roaring engines broke the silence. Armored vehicles, marked with Purgator insignias, rolled up the hill. Heavy machine-gun turrets were mounted on the roofs, and a deep voice droned out demands for surrender over a loudspeaker.
Jack might not have learned much in his four hundred years, but he knew that it wasn’t worth fighting toe to toe against machine guns.
An uneasy calm filled the air. Jack indulged in one final glance at Fiona before turning to Munroe and steeling himself for the storm.
She gripped his arm, her green eyes shining. “Let’s get out of here.”
The crowd erupted in screams as bullets ripped the air. Jack’s eyes swerved to his enchanted sapling at the common’s edge. He scooped Munroe up in his arms, whisking her across the rocky field.
“Hurry!” she screamed.
They reached the sapling and Jack hopped on, pulling Munroe on in front of him and clutching her waist as he chanted the flying spell.
He exhaled as his feet lifted from the ground, and the sapling carried them into the sky. Below, bullets cut through a horde of wolves scrambling for cover.