Page 29 of Endless Terrors
I felt my mouth soften. After another second, I squatted next to the rocking chair and reached for Collith’s hand. Unlatching his fingers one by one, trying to be gentle, I set the stack of paper aside and bent to pick up the mess. I put it in a pile on the side table. As I straightened, I noticed the purplish lines beneath Collith’s eyes. I paused, worry churning in my stomach.
Faeries didn’t get tired or weak … but goblins did.
There was nothing I could do to help him. I still hadn’t figured out how to help Lyari, either. Both of them had been severed from their Court because of me, and both were showing signs of deterioration.
One problem at a time, Fortuna, I told myself, feeling the stirrings of panic. There were too many people to save. Too many mistakes to correct. Too many miracles to find. I felt like I was holding onto a dozen kites, desperate not to let them go, but all the strings were slipping slowly from my grasp.
I turned, intending to leave, and a splash of color caught my eye. There was a blanket hanging on the other chair. It was made of a wool that Emma claimed held mystical powers of restoration. I picked it up and unfolded the thick material. For once, as I settled it over Collith’s shoulders, I allowed myself to believe in the impossible.
Just this once.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but I must have.
One moment, I was sitting on the living room floor, surrounded by my pack and stacks of books. The next, I stood in a world of gray skies and writhing grass. Wind beat at me, raking its long nails through the sweater I wore. I squinted against it, doing a swift scan for Oliver. His golden head was usually like a beacon, shining off in the distance. Tonight there was only a darkening horizon, which looked like a newly-formed bruise.
I’d try the cottage first, as always. Hunching my shoulders against the cold, I bent my head and started running down the path. I tried to contain the jittery feeling inside of me, but it threatened to burst from my skin like fragments of a bomb. All I could think about was Damon, and Matthew, and the last time I’d seen them. Remembering how my nephew had put his small head on Damon’s shoulder. So much love. So much trust. He’d lose all of that if I didn’t save my brother.
I still didn’t know how I would get Damon back. My pack had spent several more hours skimming old fae texts, and literature on the devil from every religion, every region. By the time darkness claimed me, neither Savannah nor Mercy had responded to my increasingly desperate texts.
I’d been waiting for them in hopes they’d have some kind of Hail Mary pass. Depending on their magic and knowledge so I could avoid what I’d been avoiding for months. But it was time. Today, I promised myself. Today I would contact all the other resources at my disposal. Viessa. Dracula. Even Gwyn, if it came to that. I’d ask for help. The thought didn’t even make me cringe. Not when Damon’s life was at stake.
The cottage was still off in the distance when I drew up short at the sight of Oliver.
He was halfway down the path between the cottage and the tree, his body rigid against the ground. Like last time, I knelt beside him and shoved down my self-loathing. I gripped his shoulder and bent over so I could see his face. His eyes were squeezed shut and his hair was damp with sweat.
“Lucifer?” I asked, but I already knew the answer. I just hoped for a different one.
Oliver managed a nod, his cheek scraping over the dirt. He sounded like he was being strangled as he said, “He wants to speak to you again.”
I took a deep, soundless breath, grateful he couldn’t see my face. My pulse felt uneven and thready. “Let him in,” I forced myself to say.
Oliver shook his head instantly, his eyes opening to find me. “Fortuna—”
He cried out in pain again, cutting off whatever he’d been about to say. The second I heard that sound, I felt an inexplicable sense of control. The panic and the desperation couldn’t touch me, because I commanded them not to. There were people depending on me to stay strong, to handle whatever came next in a way that would guarantee the survival of all of us. Including Oliver.
I kissed his temple, smoothing his hair back with my hand. “It’s all right. Stop fighting him. You’ve done enough. It’s time to rest, okay? Get some of your strength back.”
“There are more weapons in the attic. I’ve been … I’ve been working on them while …” Another quake went through him, and he couldn’t finish.
My mind worked quickly. Lucifer already knew Oliver was here, of course, but my best friend was weakened and vulnerable. I wouldn’t put it past the Dark Prince to torment him, just as he was tormenting Collith, Damon, and all the others that had come before them. Maybe if I hid Oliver from sight, and kept Lucifer’s focus on me, I could prevent that.
“Can you buy us any more time?” I asked calmly. “Just long enough to get you into the cottage?”
As an answer, Oliver forced himself upright, his arms shaking. He didn’t try to evade me when I put my arm around his waist. He was heavier than I thought he’d be. After a couple minutes of struggling, we got him into the cottage and on the couch. It was a relief to be out of the wind. Oliver propped himself against a throw pillow, grimacing. His skin gleamed and the hand he put on the armrest was clenched into a tight fist. We didn’t have much longer.
Breathing hard, I snatched a thick coat off one of the hooks. Once I’d shrugged it on, I glanced back at Oliver long enough to say, “Whatever happens, don’t come out, okay?”
He didn’t answer, and there was no time to wrangle a promise out of him. I closed the door firmly behind me, sending a silent prayer into the universe. I’d stopped believing God actually gave a shit a long time ago, but for Oliver, I would do anything. Pray, bargain, or grovel, it didn’t matter. I refused to lose anyone else that I loved.
The wind came at me with renewed vigor. During the brief time Oliver and I were inside, the sky had succumbed to night and clouds. I started in the direction of the tree, wanting to put space between Lucifer and Oliver. Something drew my gaze to the cliffs, though, and I slowed. My heart launched like a frightened rabbit.
A broad-shouldered figure stood against the horizon.
Lucifer looked like a character from a gothic novel. He wore a long, dark coat with the collar turned up. The wings I’d seen in the mirror were bigger than I’d thought. Their beauty was strange, and jarring. Nym had once described wings as things of light. But there was nothing light about these. The feathers looked like they’d been forged out of metal, the edges sharp and gleaming. They spilled out of Lucifer’s back and nearly touched the ground. Lucifer’s bright hair—which was eerily similar to Oliver’s, now that I thought about it—whipped around his perfect, oval face.
As I approached, he turned back toward the open sky and raised an arm in the air. Within seconds, the clouds shifted and a crescent moon shone through the wisps, allowing a faint light to spill over everything. The relentless wind slowed, then stopped altogether.
