Pas (24 page)

“I told Marion to leave a loophole when she made the spell,” Rylie said.

It made Deirdre sick to know that Rylie was still playing politics, still lying to people to her advantage.

But for the first time, she was grateful, too.

If Rylie hadn’t left that loophole, they wouldn’t have had a way to stop Rhiannon.

“A decoy,” she said softly.

Deirdre gazed across the stage where the inauguration would happen. The circle was huge, with multiple rings, comprised largely of marks etched directly into the wood. The magic was both old and new, ancient runes mixed with Marion’s inventions. Other witches worked hard to put it together while the girl herself was gone.

It looked out over the sanctuary. The same open fields where Rylie had given a speech months earlier.

Soon, that space would be filled with gaeans watching the inauguration. They were already lining up in Northgate again. They would be checked more carefully than they had been at the last event, but they were gaeans, after all; stripping them of external weapons wouldn’t render them harmless.

Deirdre had seen what they did when driven to rage by injustice. She wondered what they would do when they witnessed justice—the first justice that many gaeans would have experienced since Genesis.

How would they feel to see Rhiannon and Stark struck down for cheating and the incumbent returned to her position?

She couldn’t imagine it, but she wanted to be there to see it.

It was everything she had been working for.

“I’ll be the decoy,” Deirdre said. “Induct me into your pack. Make me your Omega officially. Then I can get dressed up as Melchior, and when Rhiannon attacks me…”

“You are no Omega,” Rylie said. “I never should have called you that.”

“I want the title. It seems right. You know? Make it mine.” Deirdre thumped her fist against her chest. “It shouldn’t be an insult to be a mystery.”

Rylie touched her shoulder. Deirdre put her hand on top of the Alpha’s, just for a moment, accepting the comfort. “Okay. I’ll make you my Omega—officially. You’ll be in my pack. And we’ll work against the Starks together.”

Deirdre’s eyes stung. “Thank you.”

Hatred hurts us more than the people we hate
.

That was probably true.

But Deirdre still planned to see the Starks burn.

The sanctuary was restless that night. The last of Deirdre’s fires had been extinguished, but coals continued to smolder in some places for endless hours. She watched the glimmer of her dying flames from atop the waterfall, and she knew it would be the last time she’d ever see that fire.

Melchior was dead. He wasn’t going to change her again.

And the next day, she was going to try to trap Rhiannon and Stark.

Deirdre wasn’t just saying goodbye to her fire. She was saying goodbye to the last night she might ever see.

A pair of legs appeared beside her. “Avoiding the inauguration prep?” Niamh asked, settling on the cliff. Their feet dangled off the edge together. As avian shifters, neither of them should have had reason to fear heights. They both sat right against the edge.

“I’m actually waiting for Marion to come back from her trip to…wherever she went,” Deirdre said. “She’s going to make me look like Melchior.”

Niamh had brought a couple of water bottles with her. She offered one to Deirdre. “Vidya told me that. She thinks you’re stupid and insane and she’s also not planning to do anything about it.”

“That’s because I told her not to.” Deirdre took a drink of water.

“I thought she was bound to obey Stark,” Niamh said.

Deirdre shrugged uncomfortably. “I think she’s decided I’m a better Stark than he is.” Everyone seemed to have decided that. She saw the way they looked at her, their every horrible thought about Deirdre obvious on their faces. Rylie may have decided to give her leniency, but the court of public opinion had passed a different judgment.

She was the enemy, the public face of opposition to Rylie Gresham.

Maybe she was hiding from the inauguration prep after all.

“Speaking of Stark…” Niamh said.

“Do we have to?”

“When I came back to the throne room at Niflheimr, it looked like you were getting dressed.” The harpy was trying not to grin and failing. She pointed at Deirdre with the cap of her water bottle. “Did you and Stark…? I mean, you guys totally did it, didn’t you?”

It reminded Deirdre so much of the time that she had hooked up with a guy that both she and Niamh were attracted to in school. She couldn’t even remember his name now. He had been a nerdy, weedy guy. Someone who really liked World of Warcraft.

Niamh must have been jealous that Deirdre had gotten to him first, but she’d still been supportive, eager for details, and willing to joke about the experience.

Almost as willing as she’d been to stab Deirdre.

Deirdre braced herself to reject Niamh’s tentative offer for sisterhood. But Rylie had kissed Deirdre on the forehead after her flaming phoenix rampage. She had chosen not to bite when a bite had been well deserved. Rylie believed that Deirdre’s phoenix should have been about love, not hate.

She didn’t want to hate Niamh anymore.

Deirdre made herself smile. It wasn’t easy, but she managed it, even though the expression was strained. “Yeah. We did it.” Her lips quivered. The smile faded. “We did.”

“Oh, Dee,” Niamh said.

Deirdre hugged her first.

They embraced, phoenix and harpy in their human forms, women without the wings that they’d both longed to have for so long.

“It must have been pretty bad, huh?” Niamh asked without letting go. Her bony chin dug into Deirdre’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Deirdre said. “Well, actually, no. It was pretty good until the end, when I accidentally set him on fire.”

“You
what
?” She burst into laughter, and Deirdre couldn’t help but chuckle along. “You set fire to Stark!”

“When I came,” she said. “I couldn’t help it. Things just…came out. Not the normal things you expect.
Other
things.”

“Oh my gods,” Niamh said.

Deirdre’s cheeks were so hot that she thought she might catch on fire again, with or without Melchior’s help. She took another swig of water. “I know.”

“Oh my
gods
. And he didn’t kill you?”

“He thought it was funny,” Deirdre said.

“Sure he did. He’s sick in the head, and he is a
bastard
for running off with his wife.” Niamh’s good humor had immediately whipped around to righteous indignation. “How in all the worlds could he want to be with some ugly bitch like that when he managed to land
you
? Talk about dating out of your league! He should be leaving offerings to the gods in gratitude for getting a shot at your fine ass.”

“I don’t know if I’d call whatever’s going on with us dating.” She groaned, sagging back against her elbows, sinking into the grass. “If it was dating, I think it’s pretty safe to say we’ve broken up.”

“He doesn’t deserve you anyway,” Niamh said. “Wait, was he good? He seems like he’d be selfish and bossy. Like, ‘Hey Beta, suck my dick.’”

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”

“Yeah, he’s shitty and selfish. He totally compelled you to suck his dick. And then he left you. What an idiot!”

Deirdre tipped her head to study her friend sideways. Niamh was so worked up that her cheeks were pink. “Did Rhiannon really compel you to kill me?”

Niamh’s face grew redder. She ducked her head, swinging her feet against the cliff. The buckles on her boots jangled. “Deirdre…”

“Just be honest.”

“No,” Niamh said. “She didn’t compel me. She said I wouldn’t be able to use the skin if I was away from her, so…she didn’t need to.”

Deirdre had suspected that all along. “If Rhiannon had told me she could give me control of my phoenix form, I’d have given her anything for it, too. I probably would have killed you over it.”

“Aw. You’re so sweet.”

A surprised laugh escaped Deirdre. “What? You think that’s sweet?”

“It is sweet, because I know you’re lying. You wouldn’t have stabbed me. You might be dumb enough to go riding on a terrorist’s disco stick but you’re loyal. And the whole sex thing, that’s probably because you’re so loyal too. But you’re pretending you’d kill me over it to be nice, and
that
is very sweet.”

Deirdre kneed the harpy gently. “I mean it. I’d kill the hell out of you.”

“You might try,” Niamh said. “I don’t think your heart would be in it.”

“I guess not. It seems like I have to orgasm if I want to kill anyone these days.”

Niamh laughed too. She pushed Deirdre’s shoulder. Deirdre pushed Niamh back.

It was a half-hearted gesture of friendship, nowhere near as genuine as they used to be. But it felt nice. It felt good. Not as good as it was being in school together when they were young, but at least as good as when they’d been playing poker in the asylum with their underwear as betting material.

“I think I’ve said this a few times, but I’m sorry I stabbed you,” Niamh said.

“It’s okay,” Deirdre said. “I got better.”

“Good thing, too. It would have sucked not to hear about how your vagina set fire to Stark.”

Their laughter faded away after a moment, and they sat in silence, gazing down at the sanctuary. The place where the stage was being erected was brighter than everywhere else. There were dozens of spotlights blazing down on the witches preparing their ritual, which was now enclosed within giant blue velvet curtains. They wouldn’t fall until Rhiannon and Stark arrived as the unseelie liaisons to become Alpha.

Hopefully they would never arrive. The end was intended to strike on a distant road in the early hours of morning.

Deirdre wished the morning would come faster. The anticipation would be worse than death.

She’d already died twice, after all.

Someone moved behind them. Marion sat on Deirdre’s other side, having appeared as silently as she had left earlier. The mage girl was no longer carrying the sword.

Deirdre took a long look at her, searching for signs of where she could have gone. There was nothing out of place. The girl’s hair was twisted into a sloppy knot and there was a little dust on the hem of her jeans, but that could have been from hiking up to the top of the waterfall.

“Hey,” Deirdre greeted.

Marion smiled. “
Bonjour
, my favorite terrorist.”

A thousand questions cascaded between them, unspoken. Where had she left the Ethereal Blade? Why had Rylie called her the Voice? Who was ECF?

Deirdre said nothing.

“Are you ready?” Marion asked.

Niamh responded. “Yeah.”

The mage reached across Deirdre’s lap to take Niamh’s hand. Electric blue magic flashed between them, like a camera going off.

Once the light faded, Niamh was gone, replaced by Melchior’s figure. He was taller than she was, broader, glimmering with golden scales.

“Wait,” Deirdre said. “What did you do? You’re supposed to make me the decoy.”

“Rhiannon would sense you from a mile away, with all that phoenix magic,” Niamh said with Melchior’s deep, silken voice. “Plus you smell like Stark’s dick cheese.”

Deirdre’s jaw dropped. “I do not!”

Niamh-as-Melchior cackled wildly, feet swinging.

She was sick. Sick and ridiculous.
Dick cheese? So gross.

It was so offensive that she almost forgot to be horrified by Niamh’s sacrifice. She clasped Marion’s hand. “Change me. Put the Melchior thing on me.”

“It’s already done,” Marion said, pushing away from the edge of the cliff. She stood and dusted off her hands. “Niamh made the arrangements with Abel. Take it up with him if you don’t like it.”

“But Rylie made me her Omega! Niamh isn’t even part of the pack!”

“Actually, as of an hour ago, I’m officially Rylie Gresham’s Beta.” Niamh smiled weakly. “That kinda makes me your boss, doesn’t it? And as your boss, I say that I get to be the decoy.”

Deirdre’s mouth opened and closed silently.

Beta. Omega. Alpha
.

“No,” she said. “Marion,
wait
.”

“See you guys at the inauguration!” Marion headed down the trail with a bounce in her step. Wherever she had taken the sword, it had put her in a good mood.

She didn’t care that she had just resigned Niamh to facing Rhiannon and Stark alone.

“Why, Niamh?” Deirdre asked.

It felt weird to see such a sweet, mischievous smile on Melchior’s face. She still stood like herself, twisting his toes on the ground, hips swaying. “Rhiannon didn’t have to compel me to kill you.”

“Nobody compelled me to let the vampires drain you.”

“It’s okay,” Niamh said. “I forgive you. And this is the only thing that I can do to show that.” She took Deirdre’s hand. “It’s the only way I can apologize to you. Let me fix this.”

Deirdre’s heart ached. It felt like it might explode within her chest.

When she spoke, her voice was thick, jolting. She couldn’t make herself sound properly jovial. “Okay, fine. I forgive you for stabbing me. But I’ll never forgive you for saying I smell like Stark’s dick cheese,
Beta
.”

Niamh barked a laugh. Deirdre flicked water from her bottle at Niamh, and Niamh flicked some back. It stung a little. Or maybe that was the tears springing to her eyes, tears of love and gratitude and feeling like someone had finally pulled that silver knife out of Deirdre’s back after so many long, painful weeks.