Witches of the Deep (The Memento Mori Witch Trilogy Book 3) (24 page)

S
tanding atop Estelle’s throne
, Tobias drew a deep breath of briny air, painfully aware that this would be one of his last. Fiona was coming for his neck. But before he would give his life to her, he would burn the Throcknell army to the ground.

Gripping a pike in both hands, he listened to the earth rumble beneath him. A sword hung at his waist. It seemed as though the entire Throcknell army were storming up the hill—a thousand men at least. The werewolves formed a line in the common, some transforming. Others remained in human form, gripping copper-plated weapons. Thomas, Alan, and Estelle stood nearby, pikes ready.

Fingers tightening around his pike, Tobias felt a rough hand grasp his chin, yanking it back, and a knife at his throat.
Seven hells.
Some of the Throcknell soldiers, cloaked by invisibility, had come for him in advance. Dropping his pike, he struck out with his elbow, cracking the ribs of an assailant. He felt a sharp pain as something lanced into his back. Another thrust of a blade ripped through his kidney.

He was being stabbed, and he couldn’t even see his attackers.

As his heart hammered, he could feel himself bleeding out. Someone jammed a knife through his ribs and yanked it out again. He gripped his chest, blood pouring through his fingers. He couldn’t breathe.

So this was how he’d die. Better than eternal hellfire, but he needed to see Fiona one last time—even if she wasn’t the same. An unseen spear lanced his gut, and he could feel his pulse begin to slow, his skin growing icy.

Tobias’s eyes widened, and he stared at the night sky, until something interrupted the view—moonlight glinting off metal. Thomas stood above him, slashing his pike into unseen soldiers, the air filling the groans and gurgles of dying soldiers. Alan fought by his side, cutting through the invisible soldiers, and Tobias glimpsed the blood coating their weapons before his vision started to go dark.

Someone was shouting his name, but his body had grown frigid, Emerazel’s fire all but snuffed out. His hand drifted over a gaping wound between his ribs. His body had been ripped open by Throcknell metal. An odd sense of calm washed over him, and he stared at the pinpricks of light in the night sky.
Was this what it felt like when Mother died? And Eden?

Thomas and Alan were talking to him, but he tuned them out. He closed his eyes, listening to the the pounding of feet on rock, thumping along like a heartbeat. The Throcknell army, advancing.

He thought of Fiona, her slim body pressed against him in the woods. Her golden skin, wild hair, and bare legs. The look in her eyes when she’d first seen him. Gods, he’d give anything to see her one last time. His heart thrummed. He could feel himself glowing like an ember, and then a cold wind rippled over the earth, stoking his flame. His body crackled with light. Hot, molten power surged through him, enflaming his heart and limbs until his entire body blazed.

Heat ignited his nerves, cauterizing his wounds. The fire was excruciating and euphoric at the same time. He gasped, trying to catch his breath. Grasping for his pike, he stood between Thomas and Alan, who clapped him on the back. The rest of the army was nearly upon them.

Tobias swung his pike, and Emerazel’s inferno erupted through the metal, raining fire on the Throcknells’ front lines. Agonized screams filled the air, and to his horror, Tobias felt a shiver of pleasure, watching as they threw themselves to the ground, trying to douse the flames.

As the Throcknells burned, the werewolves rushed in. The deafening sound of clanging metal rang across the common. Tobias jumped into the fray with his sword, and within moments he was lost in a whirl of slashing and blocking, his sword finding its mark again and again. He was the flames of Haphaestus from the depths of Mount Etna. He was the blazing gases of the sun’s core, and his body roared with glorious heat.

“Tobias!” Alan screamed. “The Purgators are here!”

Tobias heard helicopter rotors beating overhead, and his vision began to clear. The blades beat louder, and white lights danced over the trees surrounding the common.
Holy gods. They’re going to cover all of Dogtown in that dust
. He sucked in a deep breath before bellowing, “Wolves! Run for the trees!”

A sword in her hand, Estelle caught Tobias’s eye. “Wolves! Retreat!”

A line of ten helicopters approached, each carrying some sort of tank. “We are ordering you to surrender,” an amplified voice droned. “Do not try to run from us. Do not try to fight us.”

Those in human form transformed, bolting for the trees, and Tobias followed, sprinting through the common. A confused swarm of Throcknell soldiers remained, at least half of them badly injured.

Over the south side of the common, something red and shimmery began to spray from the tanks below the helicopters. Agonized shrieks pierced the air. Throcknells and werewolves alike scattered, trying to escape the pain, and another helicopter dumped dust. Throcknell soldiers ran for the ocean, desperate to wash it off. A victory for chaos.

But something was happening to the helicopters. The winds blew harder and they began to fly erratically, swerving through the dark sky. As he stood by the edge of the forest, a cold breeze chilled Tobias’s skin. From the bottom of the hill, a silvery light glowed, the color of the moon. The wind grew stronger, blowing back his hair. Around him, the trees groaned.

He stared, open-mouthed, as the helicopters slammed into each other and burst into flame.

Fiona
.

One by one, each aircraft crashed and the flaming wreckage plummeted to the common, leaving great chunks of blazing metal over the craggy slopes.

Tobias dropped his sword. She’d come for him. Blood roaring in his ears, he started into the common.

Estelle gripped his arm. “Why aren’t you bringing your weapon? There are still Throcknells out there.”

He turned to look at the Queen, her face fiercely beautiful. “Fiona’s here for me.”

He crossed the grass, drawn to her as if by a gravitational pull. A silvery fog hung over the common, and when he saw her perfect form stride through the glow, he caught himself flickering between awe and terror. Her dark hair curled over her shoulders, and her body seemed to hum with strength. Byron, her familiar, had returned, and circled above her head.

When she saw him, he thought he caught a brief moment of hesitation before she hurled herself through the air, fast as the winds of a hurricane. She slammed into him, knocking him to the ground, and he felt her hands wrap around his neck. In the next second, her teeth were at his throat.

H
er hands closed
around his throat, and her eyes lingered on his skin. She’d never seen him this clearly before. Of course she’d seen the sharp cheekbones, the dark eyes slightly turned up at the sides, his beautiful mouth. But now she could see every pore of his tawny skin, and the fire that danced beneath. She wanted to see all of him.

For a moment, she had an impulse to sink her teeth into his throat. Nothing this beautiful could last forever.

But she wasn’t here to kill him. He was her fire in the darkness, and she needed him. She leaned down, kissing his neck, and he shuddered with pleasure.

“Why aren’t you putting up a fight?” she whispered. “I’m supposed to kill you. I have to make it look real.”

She heard him gasp, but had to stay focused. She stood, grabbing him by the collar. His eyes widened, and she flung him across the common. Gods, this power felt glorious.
And he’s a fire demon. He can take a little bruising.

She leapt into the air, soaring on the wind before landing gently near him.

He rose, staring at her. “I need you to kill me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The hellhound comes for me tomorrow. It’s the only way out of the fire.”

Glancing down the hill, she saw Nod watching, his arms folded. If she didn’t make this look real, the Guardians would kill them both. She’d impressed him with her destruction of the Purgator helicopters, but what he really wanted was fire-demon blood.

She ran at her friend, slamming her shoulder into him and tossing him into the air. Cool wind rippled through her hair, caressing her skin as they flew deep into the woods. They landed hard against a tree, out of Nod’s line of vision. Tobias grunted as his back slammed against the bark, and she had a sudden impulse to kiss him all over. But there wasn’t time for that now.

He had a dazed look in his eyes, and she lifted his chin. “I need you to help me. Nod has the relic around his neck. I’m going to attack him. Do your best to keep the other Picaroons away from me. Don’t hurt them unless you have to.”

Tobias stared at her, dark eyes shining, and he slipped a hand around the back of her neck. He pulled her in for a kiss, slow and deep, and she pushed herself against him, feeling the warmth of his chest against hers. For a moment, all thoughts went out of her head; she almost forgot who she was, why she was here.

He pulled away. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Hand in hand, they slipped through the shadows, rushing through the trees. At the woods’ edge, she set her sights on the Picaroons. They were looking for her. Luckily for her, Nod had moved apart from the others, walking in her direction. She crouched before springing into the howling winds. When she plunged down again, she slammed her elbow into Nod’s head with all the force she could muster. He fell back, dazed.

Fiona’s heart thudded against her ribs. Within moments, a circle of fire surrounded them.
Tobias’s flames.
She grasped for the relic around Nod’s neck. But by the next heartbeat, his hands were around her throat.

Blue flames flashed in his eyes, and he tightened his fingers. “I thought you would be loyal,” he bellowed. “I trusted you.”

Her windpipe closed. Under her feet, the ground trembled.

She closed her eyes, and an image flashed in her mind. Nyxobas rushing at her with his scythe. She’d already died once today.

Slipping her arms between Nod’s, she pried his hands off before slamming a fist into his throat. She snatched the relic from his neck. Leaping into the briny air, she cleared the flames. She landed again on the hard rock, searching for Tobias. He stood within another circle of fire, body blazing as he fought to keep the flames alive against Valac and Marlowe, who held their arms outstretched, chanting to douse them. Storm clouds roiled in the skies, and the ground rumbled. Dogtown’s death rattle.

Shooting a quick glance to Lir, she found him staring, his mouth agape and eyes swirling green and black. She really didn’t want to hurt him. She just needed to get the relic to Tobias.

She began to ascend into the air, but someone yanked her hair from behind, slamming her down against the rocks. In the next second, Marlowe was on top of her, his face contorted with rage. He gripped her hair, smashing her head against the stone, and pain exploded in her skull. He slammed her head down a second time, and she felt something crack. Her head swam; the breath left her lungs.

She needed the night air. She needed to slip into the shadows, into the empty parts of the sky, and disappear.

As her vision went dark, she felt her body charge with hurricane-force energy. She lifted her hips, flinging Marlowe to the side. When he thudded against the earth, she grabbed him by the shirt collar and jumped high into the air. Wild marine winds churned above the common, and she felt the first fat drops of rain from the storm the Picaroons had called up. Exhilarated, she dropped Marlowe to the rocky earth, listening to the thump of his body on rock.

She plunged down again, staring in disbelief at the scene before her. Tobias was lowering his flames. Jacques and Lir were fighting Nod and Valac in a frantic blur of clashing swords, so fast she could hardly see what was happening. All she knew was the Guardians were no longer unified. She’d caused a full-blown mutiny, and Lir had finally turned against his brother.

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.

W
atching 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.

As they climbed higher above the treetops, one of the machine-gun turrets locked onto the pair. His heart skipped a beat, and the gun unleashed a hail of bullets.

They grazed his back, piercing his flesh. He was old enough that death shouldn’t scare him, but the thought of obliteration was still terrifying. Maybe what he feared most was what he’d have to face when he died—the whispers of those he’d slaughtered throughout the centuries.

Up into the night sky—Fiona’s night sky—wind rushed over his skin, and the sound of gunfire faded.
Please, gods, don’t let them murder Fiona.

As he wrapped his arm tighter around Munroe, he could feel her heart beating beneath her ribs, could smell the jasmine in her hair. She could amuse him, at the very least. Tightening his grip around her, he savored the frantic thrum of her pulse, and was struck by the certainty that if he could enjoy his time on earth, he wouldn’t have to live in terror.