I watch as the Morrigan’s blue irises seep away into green ones, and then Sorcha looks around, startled. “What the—”
The Morrigan possessed Sorcha’s body and did this just to punish me. She must have caught enough glimpses of my memories back in the ballroom to re-create this: The memory that has tied me to Sorcha forever.
The memory of when her precious little bird shattered my life.
When Sorcha looks down at me—at my dead mother in my arms—she goes still. And I swear I see something akin to remorse in her gaze.
Then my arms go slack and light. When I look down, my mother has disappeared—the Morrigan’s illusion gone.
It was a threat. A warning. I’ll kill everyone you love if you don’t help me.
I stay kneeling in the cobblestone street. I ignore the dull headache that is a reminder of my impending death, and I stare at the faery who took my mother from me. Who used me. Who manipulated me. Who stole from me. And now I know exactly how she managed to escape the first time.
In the end, I was forced to let her fly away. I never got over losing my little bird. She was my favorite.
“You made the Morrigan a vow, didn’t you?” I ask flatly. Sorcha looks away and I have my answer. My laugh is rough and dry. “No excuses? No funny retorts, little bird?”
Sorcha’s eyes flash. “Don’t you dare call me that.”
I rise to my feet, realizing I’m back in my hunting clothes. I’m wearing Kiaran’s coat. The dress and the slippers are gone, and the blood has disappeared from my hands. None of it was real; she stole it from my memories, from Sorcha’s memories.
“Why not? That’s what you are. The Morrigan’s caged little bird.”
Sorcha slaps me so hard my face whips to the side. “I did what I had to,” she snarls. “To survive. To get out of here. So I made her a vow that one day I would bring back someone who could open the Book. You were asking. You wanted this.”
An opportunity presented itself, so I took it. Those were her words.
“And if she gets her hands on it, then what? She’ll kill us all.”
Sorcha lets out a sharp laugh, bitter. “I’m not a fool.
You’re my insurance. Why do you think I made you a vow? As long as she needs my blood to open it, the Book is mine. And I promised it to you. You have the most reason to keep it out of her hands.”
“And I’m the one who would suffer the most.”
Her hands fist at her sides. “Aye. I admit that.”
“Then it must have been wonderful to have the Morrigan to replay your finest moment. When you took my mother from me.”
“I have no desire to have my body used like some puppet. Especially not by her.”
Enough of this. I need to find that girl, and Kiaran, and Aithinne.“Where’s Aithinne?”
“I woke up alone in the cave,” Sorcha says tightly. “And I found myself here when I tried to leave.”
I shove down my emotions. I can’t think clearly if I feel too much, and the Morrigan will use that against me. Focus on the task at hand. That girl. “There was a girl who came out this way. I saw her in your memories. Small, covered in ink markings.”
I swear, something flickers in Sorcha’s gaze. Confusion? “I don’t recall any girl.”
“There you are!” I hear Aithinne’s voice behind me. I turn to see her step out of the door of a building, relief plain on her face at the sight of us. She pauses. “I’m glad to see you both. Even you,” she tells Sorcha. “Although I still hate you.”
“Oh, thank god,” Sorcha says. “For a minute I thought you might actually hug me.” She sounds as acerbic as always, but I swear she looks almost glad to see Aithinne.
“I might still. Just to torture you.”
“Aithinne,” I say. “Did you see—”
The girl is slipping across the street right behind Aithinne, her dark hair glowing in the city lights. When she sees that I notice her, she lets out a soft gasp and bolts.
Before I can go after the girl, Lonnrach lunges out of the shadows between the buildings and grabs her.
CHAPTER 37
I RACE DOWN the street with Aithinne and Sorcha close behind me.
Lonnrach is trying to pull the girl through another building door—through what must be another portal—but she puts up a damn good fight. The girl slams her boot into his knee, wrenches herself out of his grip, and takes off running.
When Lonnrach sees us coming, he curses and sprints after her.
Aithinne grasps my sleeve. “What are we doing? Who was that?”
“I don’t know,” Sorcha pants. “But if my brother wants her this badly, we need to get to her first.”
We race past the line of white-columned buildings in George Street and cut down a side street to come out near the gardens. The lights of Old Town are dark, the city eerie and shadowed as we come to a hard stop before the bridge. “Aithinne, go that way”—I gesture to the west side of the street—“Sorcha, take North Bridge. I’ll trail behind and we’ll cut him off on the High Street. Go!”
We head off in our different directions. I follow Lonnrach past Waverley Bridge and into the winding, dark tenements of the ancient part of the city. The buildings here are high, all of them close together and built partially underground. If I lose sight of Lonnrach and the girl, I won’t be able to find them again. This part of Edinburgh is layered in an elaborate maze of tunnels and wynds and closes.
As I follow Lonnrach down another side street, the buildings around us seem to grow darker, more shadowed. The Morrigan built the city from my memories. She has to be here somewhere, helping him along. Who is this girl? Is she another faery here to find the Book?
I see her just ahead, her long hair fluttering behind her like a veil. She darts through a dark close. She’s trying to take advantage of the dim light and the mazelike streets of the Old Town. Lonnrach trails after her.
I follow behind, but the building starts to close in, as if it were—
It’s moving. It is closing in.
The girl glances behind her with a panicked expression and speeds up. She whirls and presses her palm to the wall, pushing open a door I hadn’t even noticed was there.
Lonnrach crashes through it and follows. When I reach the door, it seals and disappears. As if it were never there to begin with.
Damnation!
I rush toward the end of the alley, but the walls are so tight now that I have to turn my body to the side. Desperately, I reach out a palm and release a burst of power. It slams into the buildings and creates a hole for me to escape through.
I hurtle out onto the street just in time to see Lonnrach and the girl up ahead. I give chase, but they’re too fast. I’m going to lose them.
Sorcha speeds around a corner and throws herself into her brother. They fall to the ground, striking each other. Sorcha smashes her fist into his jaw and slams his head into the pavement. By the time I reach them, Sorcha has him in an iron grip and the girl has disappeared down another street.
“She’s gone,” I pant. “Bloody hell.”
“Who is she?” Sorcha snarls at Lonnrach.
His smile is mocking. “You don’t know?”