“Well, this isn’t a good sign,” Aithinne says, studying the ivy. She slides her finger along a branch. “This place feels wrong. Dead.” Then she mutters: “Why couldn’t it have been kittens? Just once?”
Sorcha stares at the hall, going pale with fear. “It didn’t look like this before.” A soft curse on her lips. She’s realized something. “The Cailleach was holding this place together. Now that she’s dead and her powers are in the body of an incompetent human, this realm is falling apart just like ours.” She glances sharply at Aithinne. “I should push you onto Kadamach’s blade myself. I’m not going to die because he’s grown too soft to kill you.”
“Not helpful,” I snap.
“I don’t care. This changes things. Do you realize how desperate the Morrigan will be to escape? This is her last chance.” She steps back toward the portal we just came through. When she finds it closed, she shuts her eyes. “Kadamach, just murder your idiot sister and become the next Cailleach. Save us the trouble.”
“I’d rather kill you. Now find the Book.”
Sorcha straightens. “If it were that easy, it wouldn’t still be here, would it?” she snaps. Then, to me: “Pray you survive to make it yours, Falconer.”
She pushes past us, and the rest of us follow. As we continue through the dead vines, the hallway keeps stretching ahead. It never changes. The vines blur together in a seemingly endless branch, withered and dead. Leaves litter the floor, the only indication that this place had once been bursting with life.
Were the plants a cruel taunt the Cailleach left for the Morrigan, a reminder that she would never, ever see true nature or the world again? Or perhaps they were a small kindness the Cailleach gave to her sister before shutting her in here and throwing away the key: a garden to grace her prison walls.
As we push through a jumble of leaves, I cast my senses out slightly, enough to search the hallway without exhausting myself or becoming consumed by my powers. A sudden chill glides across my skin and I pause. There are eyes on me again, in the walls, beyond those leaves.
A voice stirs across my mind—one similar to the Cailleach’s, but not old and frightened and dying. This voice is powerful. It sounds like a promise of death.
I see you.
The air in the hallway thickens, rippling as if a small pebble had been tossed into a pool of water. We all come to a sudden halt. Next to me, Kiaran whispers a foul curse.
“I take it you all felt that?” Aithinne asks. We nod. “Anyone else get the sense they’re about to be gutted and strung up by their intestines?” she says. When we nod again she adds, “I’ve never felt trousers-pissing terrified before.”
Kiaran grasps his blade. “Aithinne,” he murmurs, his eyes on the dead vines. “That’s more information than I cared to know.”
“You’re so delicate,” Aithinne says lightly, but she steps closer to me with her sword out, too.
A scrape of rock against metal from somewhere in the hall makes us all jump. Sorcha’s breathing turns uneven. “I say we kill the Falconer,” she says. I don’t miss the tremble in her voice. “Old magic loves a good sacrifice.”
I glare at her. “Does it? You do realize everyone here hates you, aye?”
Before she can reply, the hallway shudders again, this time more violently. The stone around us groans. Something crashes. I whirl to see a chunk of ceiling has fallen and shattered to the floor. And when I look up . . .
Thick vines crash through the roof, bearing thorns as sharp as blades.
CHAPTER 26
KIARAN GRIPS my arm and pulls me so hard I almost lose my balance. “Run!”
We fly down the hallway, our boots pounding through the dead leaves. Something tugs at my foot to hold me back, but I surge forward. Another tug, harder. Another. Another. Something grasps me hard by my ankle and when I look down, my stomach lurches with alarm.
Vines. Bursting up through the onyx slabs and growing fast around my legs. Holding me in place.
Oh, god. A burst of panic brings back unwanted memories of the mirrored room where Lonnrach kept me. The vines there held me in place, tightened if I struggled. Held me while his teeth bit into my wrists. My arms. My shoulders. Neck—
“MacKay.” I just manage to whisper.
“Shit.” Kiaran seizes my hand again with a rough yank.
The vines snap, but I still can’t move, can’t think, can’t do anything. Move and it’ll only hurt worse. Move and the vines will cover my mouth to muffle my screams—
Kiaran’s hands are rough around my waist as he pulls me. “Kam, you have to run!”
You’re not there. This isn’t the mirrored room. Go!
I try. God, I try. Vines sprout around our feet, rising from the floor. They grab for my ankles, but I break through. I rip. I claw. I tear. But when the vines wrap around my wrists, I can’t fight anymore. My limbs slacken.
Can’t. Can’t, can’t, can’t. Teeth at my wrist. Teeth at my throat. Half-moon marks. Don’t move or it’ll hurt more.
I’m consumed by my memories. I couldn’t fight back. It feels real. It is real.
Teeth at my wrist. Biting down. Drawing blood. Breaking into my mind.
Can’t move. Can’t scream. Can’t think—
Kiaran jerks me forward, slashing his blade through the growth. “Kam!” His hands are on either side of my face. “I’m here. I’m right here with you.”
“It’s her fear,” Sorcha pants from behind us. “The Morrigan read her.”
“I’m here,” he whispers again. “I’m here.”
That’s all it takes to get me moving once more. Kiaran’s touch anchors me. It reminds me that I can still fight. I’m not a prisoner.
Somewhere behind us, another chunk of the onyx ceiling crashes to the ground. Another, another. Vines spring up on either side of us, closing us in. Trapping us.
Aithinne wipes at the bleeding gash on her face. “If anyone has any ideas, now might be a good time to share with the rest of us.”
Kiaran shakes his head sharply. “We’re going to have to force our way out.” He looks behind us, assessing.
“Kadamach,” Sorcha says, raising her palm, “wait—”
Kiaran rounds and slams his fist into the wall. An impact that should have shattered the bricks to dust.
His hiss of pain startles me. When Kiaran pulls his hand back, his knuckles are bleeding. The wall broke his near-invulnerable fae skin. How on earth is that possible?
Amid the chaos, he stares hard at Sorcha. Though his gaze is calm, I can see something simmering there. Something wild again. His expression is dark and slightly on edge.
“Kam,” he says slowly. “Can you blast this wall apart?”
Aithinne steps in front of me. “I’ll do it—”
“No.” Kiaran’s voice is hard. He nods to me. “I need it to be Kam.” His expression leaves no room for questions.
Aithinne presses her lips together and, as if she’s projecting her thoughts to me, I can hear her in my mind. Tell him.
I give the barest shake of my head.
If I tell Kiaran, his attention would be split between finding the Book, and worrying that every small burst of power will be the one that kills me. He’d stop me from using my abilities to find the Book—and against the Morrigan, I won’t have a choice. I’m going to need them.