Night's End

  I squirmed as I stood there, and when I looked down, I realized I was naked—or nearly. A gossamer gown, silver threads loosely woven in a lacework pattern, hung lightly from my shoulders, but I could see through it the weave was so loose. My breasts, my stomach, my legs—my entire body was faintly cerulean, and with wonder, I ran my tongue over my teeth, feeling their razor-sharp edges pierce the flesh. Drops of blood welled up on my tongue, and their salty, metallic tang increased my hunger.

  I lowered myself behind a nearby bush, as the man began to come my way. He hadn’t seen me yet, and I had the feeling that if he knew I was here, he’d be running. All the more reason to be patient—to lie in wait like the snow weavers my mother kept as pets.

  My mother? The image of a tall queen rose up, stretching over the sky, blotting out the morning light. Thinly jointed, with angular eyes and a pale, dangerous beauty, her visage was imprinted on my heart, and I realized I loved her with a passion. She was my everything. She was my all, my role model, my goddess. And I was her beloved daughter.

  Cherish. That was my name. I was Cherish—and I was my mother’s daughter in every way.

  Well, almost every way. The voice inside annoyed me, and I tried to push it away, but it wasn’t so easily silenced. You know I’m right. You know that you have something your mother doesn’t, and that something might someday be her downfall when you rise up to take your rightful place as her heir to the throne.

  A flash of anger raced through me.

  “I’m no traitor. I will never betray my mother. If the throne comes to me, it will be through her choice—not mine.” My whisper barely touched the wind, but the slipstream caught it, carrying it deep onto the currents racing around the world.

  You have no choice. Destiny will out. The strong always overcome the weak. It’s evolution. It’s what created your mother in the first place.

  “Hush.” I shoved the thoughts aside as my prey neared the bush. He paused, and I realized he had sensed something was wrong. Maybe he heard my whisper, maybe he caught my scent. Whatever the case, there was no time to waste. I leaped out, landing in front of him, in a crouch.

  He took one look at me and screamed, turning to flee. As I began to change, morphing into my beast, I reveled in the power of my jaws, of the bones shifting and lengthening. My head grew, my jaws transformed into a death vise, and I let out a laugh while I still could, from deep in my belly. A laugh of joy, pure and wallowing in the pain that I knew would follow.

  My stomach rumbled, the hunger pushing me on, the lust for his blood and bone and life force so strong that there was nothing more in the world. The only thing that existed was my desire—and nothing, no plea for mercy, no stray thought, could assuage the hunger. Nothing except the feel of his gristle in my mouth, of the hot blood sliding down my throat. I lunged, jaws agape, and his screams punctuated the birdsong echoing through the early morning.

  Later, satiated with a full belly, I used the snow to clean myself off. The hunger was at bay for now, and it was time to go home. My mother was waiting for me. There was something she had wanted to discuss with me earlier, but I’d blown her off in exchange for a little time outside by myself. Sometimes the din in the Barrow seemed overwhelming, and I had to get away from the noise.

  I headed into the Barrow, ignoring the milling throng of our people. They were all descended from my mother, in a way. Myst had given birth to our race; the first ones were turned by her after the mad vampire had come up with his scheme. But he’d been weak, and my mother had grown stronger than he.

  Once she told me that, after the turning, she’d realized he could never be her match, and so he became her enemy. And now, all vampires—the true vampires—were our foes. We were the rightful heirs to their lineage, we’d evolved far beyond their archaic powers, but they wouldn’t accept that we were the next step in their evolution, and so we were always at war with them.

  They didn’t know we’d journeyed to this new land, though. Myst had kept it a secret, leaving some of our people behind to build a community in the old world, even as we’d discovered the vast, unspoiled wilderness here. There was room here, room in which to spread and breed.

  Our kind reproduced slowly—and painfully. Mothers sometimes died in childbirth, their children ripping their way out of the womb. But I hadn’t done so to my mother. I’d come into the world easy enough, though who my father was remained a mystery and always would. It didn’t matter, though. I was Myst’s daughter, heir to the Indigo Court, and I would help her reach out and take control of this land. Together, we would build an empire of blood and bone.

  As I made my way into our private chambers, I looked around for Myst, but she was nowhere in sight. There was a serving girl nearby and I grabbed her by her hair and yanked her over to my side.

  “Where’s Queen Myst? Do you know?”

  She sputtered, letting out a little growl, but I fisted her hair tighter and let go. She dropped to the ground at my feet. “Last I saw of her, she was in her bedchamber, Princess.”

  “Go, then. Get about your work.” I kicked her out of the way, lightly though. It furthered nothing to damage the help. Put them in the infirmary and somebody else had to do their job.

  I headed to my mother’s chamber and was about to knock on the door when I heard something from inside. It was a groan—the sound of pain. Worried, I cracked the door and peeked inside.

  There, lying on her bed, was my mother. Two Ice Elementals stood over her, and to the side, one of our healers. The Elementals were standing to either side of her, their arms outstretched over her body, and she was writhing, a look of pain sweeping across her face. Sparkles flickered in the air above her chest—a spray of magic filtering through the room, silver and white, and the color of the deep indigo that hits right before dusk. They swirled, like the stars in our eyes.

  Slowly, I closed the door behind me and edged my way behind the floor-length curtain that draped over the wall. No one had noticed me; they were so focused on Myst and what was happening. The healer looked nervous, and he was muttering something beneath his breath.

  I focused on the slipstream, trying to catch his words.

  I don’t know if this will work. . . . Please don’t let her die. . . . Please let this work. . . . He was frightened. That much came through.

  Wanting to burst out into the open, to ask what the hell they were doing to her, I caught myself and kept quiet. If I interrupted, whatever they were involved in might go awry, and my mother would be furious with me. So I stood back, watching and waiting.

  The thrumming in the room grew stronger, so loud it was like a flurry of bees in my head. Wincing, I covered my ears as my mother’s cries grew stronger. But I couldn’t look away.

  And then I saw it—the swirls began to coalesce and take shape, forming into a pool of liquid energy over the center of her heart. A stream of light poured from her body into the pool as it whirled, turning like some mad dervish in the thrall of his dance. I’d seen them, somewhere, when I was very young, though I couldn’t remember much about it. In some street somewhere, before we raced in and ravaged the townsfolk. He’d been spinning like a top, spinning like he was centered on a string that dizzily wavered round and round.

  The energy over my mother shimmered, a diamond forming in blue and silver, but there was something about the whole thing that felt off—something was out of kilter.

  I struggled to remember what she’d taught me about her early days, before the Turning. Before she’d founded the Indigo Court. She’d been a member of the Unseelie—the Dark Fae, and she’d watched as her sister ascended to the throne to become the Queen of Winter. My mother had thought the honor would go to her, but she’d been overlooked. Story after story flooded back, her resentment and anger echoing through my memories.

  And then I realized what she was doing. My mother was creating her own heartstone. She was mocking the Courts of Fae by using t
heir sacred ritual on herself. Somehow, she must have stumbled across the information on how this was done, because it wasn’t common knowledge—that much was for sure. And now she was removing part of her essence to a sacred gem, to hide it and keep it safe. She was assuring her immortality.

  As I watched, she let out a piercing scream as a white-hot pinprick of light shot up from her chest to the center of the sapphire. The stone began to take physical form, an emerald cut that was so dark blue it was almost black. But inside, sparkles of silver and white gave it life—my mother’s life force, encased within the heart of the jewel. As long as it survived, so would she.

  Another moment, and the Ice Elementals placed the jewel in a silver box and stepped away from the bed. Myst slowly sat up, groaning, as the healer hurried to her side. He checked her pulse, her eyes; he pressed his ear to her chest to listen to her heart.

  “Well, is it done?” Myst smiled down at him, a gentle tone in her voice. He was her favorite. He’d been with her for many years and had brought me into the world. I liked him, as much as I could like anybody.

  “It is done, Your Highness. Your heartstone has been created, and now one thing remains. You must hide it.” He gave her a faint smile. “You know what will happen should the Court of Rivers and Rushes or the Court of Snow and Ice find out what you’ve done. They will hunt it down and destroy it. You cannot let the information out that this ritual has taken place.”

  She gave him a solemn nod. “I do know that. We’ve broken every rule the Greater Courts set forth. Over the years, we’ve torn the rules to shreds and then destroyed the remnants. But you are wrong about one matter, dear friend. Old friend. More than one thing remains to be done before I am safe.”

  He cocked his head, staring at her. A look of pale recognition crossed his face, and I knew what was going to happen. My mother hadn’t noticed me yet, nor had the Elementals or the healer. Myst was so preoccupied that she wouldn’t feel me near.

  “Old friend, the Ice Elementals are loyal to me, and unswerving, and they will never speak. But the problem with secrets? When two people know about something, that thing is no longer sacrosanct. No longer a secret. You know this, don’t you?” She slipped off her bed, already healed from her ordeal. Our kind healed incredibly fast.

  He stuttered, stepping back. “I give you my word, Your Highness.”

  “Unfortunately, words are only as good as their speakers. And while I love you, I can never trust you.” And with that I watched as my mother fell upon the healer, ripping him to shreds with her great jaws. She was a most magnificent creature, huge beyond the rest of us, and by the time she finished, there was neither bone nor drop of blood left. She licked the floor clean before returning to her form.

  The Ice Elementals stood unwavering, waiting for her. With one last look at the bedchamber, she depressed a place on the wall and a secret door opened—one I’d never seen before. I stayed where I was. I loved my mother, but I knew, instinctively, that if she even so much as thought I might know about this, she would kill me. I’d be as dead as the healer, her daughter or not.

  Followed by the Ice Elementals carrying the silver box, Myst stepped into the passageway. As the door closed behind her, I realized that I now knew what my mother’s vulnerability was. She was as vulnerable as every other Fae Queen now. Find her heartstone, and she was a dead woman.

  And with that as I turned to exit the chamber, I heard a voice calling my name. Only it wasn’t my name—close, but not the same. But I couldn’t resist. The pull was too strong.

  “Cicely? Cicely! Can you hear me?”

  The voice began to blur the world around me. Who was Cicely? And yet, a part of me answered, “I’m Cicely.” But then, the image of a little girl flashed in front of my eyes and I thought, “No, I’m Violet.”

  Stumbling, I turned to the door, but it wasn’t there. Instead, I was standing in a current of mist, and I blindly fell into the slipstream, following the siren song luring me on.

  Chapter 11

  “Cicely? Cicely! Can you hear me?”

  The voice echoed through the mist again. I stumbled forward, knowing that I had to follow the voice. And then, behind the voice, I heard a song. It sounded familiar. The melody was haunting and made me want to follow it, no matter where it led me. I looked around, wondering where I was.

  And then another memory hit me and I knew. I was in the slipstream. I wasn’t sure why, but that was the name for this place. I was in the slipstream, journeying through a darkened passageway filled with mist and fog. I thought I saw the silhouettes of trees as I began to speed up, and then boulders hidden by the fog. A pale light streamed down from overhead, but whether it was the moon or sun wasn’t clear in this monochromatic land.

  And then I was running, following the voice, suddenly eager to get out of this place and back to . . . Where was I heading back to? I didn’t know, but wherever it was, it felt like home. I was going home, and once I arrived there, I’d know who I was and why I’d made this journey.

  The mist began to thicken, until it surrounded me, and I felt like I was choking. Another minute, and I was breathing fog soup. I stumbled out, into what seemed a very bright light, and lastly, I opened my eyes. I was in the living room, and I remembered my name—I was Cicely. And I had been Violet. And I had been Cherish.

  And . . .

  . . . now I knew what Myst’s vulnerability was. And I knew how to destroy her. The only question left was: Where would I find her heartstone?

  I struggled to sit up, dazed and wondering what time it was. Squinting in the candlelight that had just a few minutes ago seemed bright as the sun, I realized that the candles were half-melted, and there was a faint light outside.

  “What time is it?” My voice sounded like it was stretched, my throat was parched, and I felt like I’d been screaming for hours.

  Ysandra brushed the hair off my forehead, and then she pressed a cool cloth to my cheeks. The chill felt comforting against my skin, which was hot and inflamed. As I struggled to sit up, Grieve sat on the sofa next to me and braced my back. I leaned against him, the cool of his skin a welcome respite.

  “What time is it?” I couldn’t quite focus on the clock—my vision was blurry, and I wasn’t seeing all that well, but I knew it would wear off as I pulled further out of the trance.

  “Four thirty in the morning. You were out for several hours, and I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to bring you back. How are you feeling? Are you nauseated? Ears ringing? Headache?” As she listed off the symptoms, I could tell Ysandra was searching for something. Probably a clue as to whether I’d permanently damaged anything.

  I sucked in a long breath, examining my body. How did I feel? Pinpricks where it felt like I had lain in one position too long. Tingles ran through my arm as I moved off of it. But that was nothing to worry over. Headache? Slight one, yes. But no ringing of the ears. And my stomach, while a little upset, wasn’t in danger of losing my dinner.

  “I feel like I have a mild hangover, but that’s about it. Mild queasiness, a slight headache. Nothing major that I can tell. But I do know one thing.” I gazed up at the ring of faces gathered round.

  They waited, expectantly.

  “I know how to destroy Myst. I’m just not all that certain on where to find what we need in order to do so.”

  Of course, my statement incited an outpouring of conversation. Luna, even in her anger, which I could still see seething beneath the surface, hurried over to the sofa to listen.

  Peyton appeared, a cool glass of water in her hand. I downed it and asked for another, and after that—a third. When my throat was no longer parched, I told them what I’d seen, and what I’d discovered. And as I spoke, I felt something inside had changed. There was a part of me that felt like it had always needed to be there, but had been missing.

  Violet. For some reason, I’d needed to be reunited with Violet.
r />   Who she’d been, when she’d lived, remained unclear. But the fact was I’d returned to life too soon—before Grieve—and I’d known about our pact. I’d taken my own life again to go in search of him. Violet had known very well that the fly agaric would poison her. But in whatever wisdom her—my—soul had possessed, she’d swallowed them down and sped out into the slipstream again.

  You need to know me because I can give you something you never had—a happy childhood. I was happy, until I realized I’d come back at the wrong time.

  Her voice echoed in my head . . . or perhaps it was my gut. The words were muffled, but the feeling came through loud and clear. And the tattoo of the little Fae girl on my chest suddenly laughed, and tickled me. She’d woken a few times, but only briefly. My owl tattoos had woken when I’d discovered the owl-shifter within. My wolf had always been connected to Grieve. But my belladonna faerie? She belonged to me, to a part of me that had been cut out too quickly, if out of necessity.

  I laughed at her tickling; it was playful and joyful and with a slightly wicked sense of humor. Everybody stared at me, and I realized they had no clue what I was laughing about.

  “I’m just glad to be alive. Even with everything we’re facing, I’m grateful I’m here and that I have all of you. And that I’ve found . . . a part of myself that I never knew about.” As I said the words, I knew they were true. I’d never felt particularly joyful about my life, but now, here in this room at four thirty in the morning, facing one of the most dangerous adversaries we could be facing, I didn’t care. All I wanted to do was hug everyone dear to me and tell them I loved them. So I did just that. And when they stared at me like I was off my rocker, I laughed again.