TRUE (A Fire Born Novel Book 3) Page 5

  "A split soul cannot rest." Justice stood and walked toward the small window in the room. "You need to use that knife on Max in the Battle."

  "Excuse me?" My eyebrows had to be touching my hairline. "You said you didn't believe Max was a part of any of this, that he was still good." I still wanted to believe that, too, but I'd seen the expression on Max's face when he told me it was over between us, told me to leave before he hurt me. Chills rose over my arms. I also remembered seeing him outside the castle as I was brought in, the confused expression on his face, and the strange words playing in my head—words that weren't my own, and—

  Oh, god. Max had said, "I." Didn't he? Did I hear that? If there's a Tear, how did he hear me ... or Teine, or whoever's voice was in my head. How did he say, "I" unless he heard me?

  "Layla? You still with me?"

  I glanced up.

  "Right now we just need to focus on what's at hand. Don't start freaking out."

  I nodded. "You called me Layla again."

  "It's too hard not to."

  "Good. Only my mom, Cara, and Aunt Flidais call me Teine, and you saying it is too weird."

  "Fair enough."

  "So, they think I'm dead, the King, all the Fomorians?"

  "No." He half laughed. "The King knows something is wrong. You were covered in blood when the Guard brought you in. You weren't walking on your own very well. He doesn't know what the extent of your injury is, and me being your guardian, I'm not at liberty to tell him. Convenient." He grinned. "I think we need to play that to our advantage. We need to see what you're capable of. Away from prying eyes."

  "What do you mean, capable of?"

  "You and your former self just merged and rose from the dead. I think. And I know this sounds so weird, but I know what your former self, who is really you now—" He shook his head like it was the craziest thing he'd ever said, which it was. "I know what Teine could do. Stories were written about her. Even at a young age she was called the Fire Goddess. It's that power I kept hoping you could tap into when we were getting attacked by the Sluagh in the Wood a while back. It's that power we need to harness."

  I rubbed my forehead, finding my headache gone. "This is a lot to take in."

  "Tell me about it." He let out a sigh. "I know you," he said in a sad voice. "I missed you. You were my responsibility, and I let you die when you were only ten years old. I let you die again earlier today. That's twice." He rested his head in his hand.

  "Jus—" I couldn't remember having seen him so upset.

  He held his hand out. "Don't. This is going to take me just as long to adjust to as it will you. I can barely look at you. I see her."

  "You mean me. Now."

  "Both of you." He let out a breath.

  "It's hard for me to take in how old you are. Everything you've witnessed. You were there when the Morrigan destroyed the city of Mag Mell ..."

  "The Morrigan didn't like the idea that anyone was stronger than she was. More powerful than her, especially her ten year old niece." He didn't lift his head as he spoke.

  "I'm not stronger than she is. That's crazy."

  Justice glanced up with his characteristic smirk. The one he'd used so many times when we were searching for Max through the Wood. "You never cease to surprise me." It was the expression that told me he still thought I was an idiot. "No more secrets."

  "Okay."

  "When Teine was still alive," he said. "Before the Uprising, she didn't only have four Oghams like all the other Ancients, she had five."

  "Five?"

  He nodded. "Five. I wanted to mention it when I saw your grandmother had reawakened your Oghams while we were at the Underground, but I thought maybe she hadn't mentioned the fifth one to you, so I stayed quiet." He glanced toward the side of my neck. "The fifth element was right there on Teine. On the opposite side of the Fomorian Coat of Arms. Aether. She was born with it."

  "But I wasn't?"

  "No. You weren't. The Aether Ogham wasn't a common gift. Only two people were born with the fifth element." He lifted a brow.

  "Teine and MacCoinnich." Of course.

  "It was a gift no other gods had. The Morrigan didn't like that. A ten year old who was born with the Aether Ogham and the gift of fire. It meant that you had strength above all others. Even hers."

  "So, she killed me, or Teine, who is me now, or again, or whatever." I shook my head. "Because of it."

  "Yes. She wanted control. To rule the Realms. She thought it was her rightful place, and when MacCoinnich became betrothed to Teine, the King and Queen, his parents, decided the children would rule when they came of age. You both had the brand of a higher realm. Aether is all that is ethereal. All that is heavenly. It only made sense the two of you would rule." Justice bowed his head. "We tried to stop the Morrigan. It was an attack none of the angels saw coming. We were too late."

  "It's okay, Justice. I saw it—I remember it. You aren't to blame. Any of you." I put my hand on his, but he pulled away.

  "Let's just focus on what's at hand. We can't change the past, only learn from it." He cleared his throat with a forced cough. "You need to get better so we can train. The Battle is in two days, and whether you're dead or alive, the King expects you to show up."

  I glanced down at my hands in my lap. "So, the Aether Ogham ... Max doesn't have it either." I knew he didn't. I would've noticed.

  "No. Neither of you were reborn with the brand. And no one knows why."

  "Probably something to do with the curse."

  Justice grinned. "I'd bet my life on it, not that that answers the question."

  With a deep breath, I asked, "What about Max? I'm supposed to kill him in the Battle. Kill him, or I die, along with the Light that sustains the Otherworld. And if I stay alive, the Morrigan stays alive, so you'll die. All the angels will die. And Elethan will attack the Otherworld. They can't defend the Fomore. Half the Guard is already dead." I couldn't bear the thought of any scenario—too many horrible visions flashed through my head. "And what about Benny? They have her, trapped here somewhere."

  "We'll figure it out. And for the record, I've lived a very long life," Justice said. "We're preparing for you to win. The angels' fate is secondary to your life."

  "Justi—"

  He held a hand up. "Regardless of any of that, you still have to face off with Max. There's no way around it. And I know him. Even if this is a ruse, and he's playing everyone ... he'll make it look like he isn't. He'll fight. Maybe not to kill, but he'll fight. That's a promise. The Fomore will kill you otherwise, and that's something he won't let happen." He exhaled. "Max is very smart and much stronger than I think anyone realizes. You're my responsibility. I took an oath to protect you. Max knows that, too, so I'll make sure you're ready to face him." He hesitated. "I think having your soul healed ups the stakes."

  "How?"

  "It's time you tap into your true power. I should show you the front gates." He chuckled. "Burnt to hell."

  "Justice—"

  He stood up. "Get some rest."

  6

  LAYLA

  Cold air blew into my face as I stood staring out of the small window in my chambers. Snow flurries passed the castle window, their irregular shapes shifting through the gray skies before settling, adding to the white dust accumulating across the barren stretch of land below. In the middle of summer, winter had come. I wondered what time it was—late evening I guessed by the plate of food sitting across from me on the dresser. It smelled of meat and gravy. I hadn't checked to be sure.

  I'd woken up alone in the cold, dark bedroom with Justice gone. The familiar taste of freshly mown grass still on my tongue—the residue of the potion. Thoughts of the Necropolis coursed through my brain. The patina covered padlock. I guessed I'd lost it somewhere between the Fomore gates and the trek into the castle. Most of the walk from the Otherworld into the Shadow Realm was still blurry—like it had happened to someone else. Memories of Max and me crashed together, and I reached for my wrist out of habit, know
ing there was no eternity bracelet to hold. The bare skin still made my heart ache.

  After sleeping, I felt rested, but still confused. Like my mind was a series of a connect-the-dots coloring pages little kids liked. I remembered talking to Justice most clearly and felt a little lost without him in the room. I wondered where he went, how long he'd been gone.

  Glancing at the tray on top of the wide dark dresser again, a cup sat next to the plate of food, some kind of bread and maybe fruit balanced on its surface near what I thought was a lump of meat. I still didn't approach it, only stared at it. After the Fomorian Coat of Arms ended up branded into my neck, I wasn't too keen on eating anything Elethan may have served me. Granted, starving myself wouldn't help the situation I was in either.

  When I'd first woken up, I'd stood in front of the mirror, staring at the eerie sight of my eyes. One green, one blue. Too blue. Blood covered my clothes, encrusted in my nail beds, and a four inch gash stretched underneath the Fomorian Coat of Arms on my neck. I hadn't recognized myself. Everything felt different. Better in some ways, scarily foreign in others. One marked difference was the Morrigan hadn't cackled in my thoughts again. I couldn't figure out why.

  Unable to look at my freakish eyes anymore, my vision had tracked toward the mismatch of spear tips splayed across my neck. They'd reminded me so painfully of Max, I'd ended up crossing the room and taking up position by the window where I'd remained.

  The bedroom chamber was comfortable enough, but it seemed a sickening sort of game to put me in a nice room before a Battle the King expected me to lose. Like my last supper. Maybe I shouldn't have spit the memory washing potion out. Maybe it would've been easier that way. Not remembering anything and simply walking into the Battle blind. Under some ruse that I was protecting the Otherworld, instead of fighting the person I loved more than myself.

  Trying to forget Max had been unthinkable, though. I simply couldn't do it. Unfortunately, it didn't change the fact that in less than two days, we would face off in a battle to the death as the Legend said. In less than two days, I would either kill or be killed, and although I'd managed to get Cara out of Elethan's hands, Benny's life, Justice's, Tristan's, along with the rest of my family’s, still hung in that balance. So did Max's.

  Kill the one I loved and lead a half-life—a destroyed life—or let my family die, hundreds die, including myself. Max faced a similar dilemma: if he didn't kill me, the Morrigan within me, all the angels would die. Including Justice, my true protector and friend. I couldn't face it. We were in the center of a literal pendulum swing. No one could win.

  Through the small, hazy window, my gaze stayed fixed on a huge arena. As the snow fall slowed, it grew clearer under the darkening sky, and I made out stands surrounding a dirt pitch. The same arena I'd seen Sam and Max arguing about in my vision. The coliseum spread across a few acres from what I could see. An empty stretch of land dotted in clumps of dirty snow. It reminded me of the desert—no real color. No life.

  We would all die. Maybe that was for the best. No one should have to lead a cursed life.

  The shuffle of feet outside my chamber door made me turn my head. I'd forgotten the Guard was stationed outside. Even though I'd told them to leave, go back and guard the Otherworld, they hadn't. Likely an order my grandmother had imposed, and her word trumped mine.

  With a sigh, I sat down on the bed and closed my eyes, trying to block out the sick reality of what was to come. A shiver shimmied down my arms, across my shoulder blades, over my neck, and the Raven brand at the base of my skull pulsed, as if tiny wings were flapping, trying to free itself from my flesh, spreading around the sides of my throat. Incasing my neck in feathers.

  Popping to my feet, I ran to the mirror again, making sure not to look at my eyes. Golden scales grew across my throat, like tendrils or vines. Their intricate pattern moved across my neck, up my jaw, as though an invisible hand was drawing on my skin with a fine point pen. The same way they had in the bathroom in the Otherworld's Infirmary. My Oghams were unraveling, reaching outward, covering my body.

  As I touched my neck, the lines continued underneath my fingertips, reaching for the underside of my chin. The same red-edged scales that I'd seen growing on my skin outside the Fomore gates before they turned to ash on my arms. These weren't blackened, but beautiful. I brushed my fingers over the Raven Ogham, and the wings wrapping my throat stopped flapping and stilled, pulling back and out of sight. I let out a gasp.

  "My Lady? Is everything all right?" The guard asked through the door. At least he was one of the Tuatha Dé guards. One of my own and not a Fomorian. It eased my nerves a fraction.

  "Please don't call me that."

  "Yes, My ... Princess."

  Don't call me that, either. That's not what I am. Not in this life.

  I removed my fingers from the back of my neck. Why did I do that? I had never touched the Raven Ogham since I'd received it, afraid to, but my hand had lifted without my will, it seemed, and pressed against the fluttering wings. Staring at my fingers, I expected them to look different, but they were unscathed. Unchanged.

  I'd never been able to just shut the Morrigan completely out. I'd tried, but an echo would remain, or a presence I couldn't totally ignore or shut off. Like the devil on my shoulder, whispering in my ear, but the sensation traveling through me now was entirely different. As if some sort of control was being wielded over the Morrigan—only not by me.

  Teine. I let out a breath.

  "Princess Teine, are you sure everything is all right?" The guard asked again.

  "I ... yes." I coughed, clearing the lump in my throat, and glanced toward the clothes in the closet. An unsettling feeling anchored itself in my stomach as I noticed an all-black jumpsuit with a high collar and long sleeves hanging from a metal rod by a wooden hanger. Underneath it, tall black boots that laced up to mid-calf sat on the floor. They reminded me of issued combat attire—the kind the military wore. There were also black gloves, thick wool socks, and a dark, flannel-lined cloak with a hood.

  Leaning against the wall in the corner of the closet was a sword. I couldn't imagine why I'd need any of that. I thought the purpose was to destroy or be destroyed. It seemed throwing Max and me out in the arena unarmed with only the clothes on our backs made the most sense to the Fomore's plan, so I wasn't sure why they would want to dress me up like a ninja warrior, much less why they'd be keen on handing me a weapon. Max and I didn't need a man-made weapon. We were weapons all on our own.

  Another rap clapped against my door, and the sentry stationed outside creaked it open. "Princess, the Guard awaits you at the end of the hall as soon as you are ready.

  I glanced at the sword one more time. "I'm ready."

  The walkway we ventured down was easily three stories up, and so narrow I thought I might fall off and into the massive chamber below. Maybe that was the idea. I stuck to inner stone wall, running an open hand along the rough edge. Two more Tuatha Dé guards stood, armed and silent, near a doorway toward the end of the hall. I wondered how many guards my grandmother had sent and what she'd said to King Elethan that convinced him to allow it. The guards beckoned me into a large room beyond a wooden door carved with ornate Celtic symbols all over it.

  Lining the interior walls of the rounded room were more swords like the one in the closet in my chambers and tons of weapons—some I didn't have a name for. Justice would've known. Thinking of him made it harder to breathe. He'd done everything he could to protect me and look where it got us.

  The room I stood in could only be described as a fighting area. A large, padded round mat sat in the very center, and all sorts of swords and knives leaned against the outer walls. Even chains, which seemed completely barbaric to even consider using, hung on iron hooks. Glancing back at the guards, I raised an eyebrow, wondering what they were expecting me to do with all the stuff. A small door on the opposite side of the room creaked open a fraction, and someone shoved it hard from the other side, cursing.

  "What the hell ki
nd of crap operation do you Demon Gods have going here?" Justice forced the door open with his shoulder and shoved it closed behind him with the heel of his boot, before smiling widely. He was covered in dirt.

  An overwhelming surge of relief rushed through me. "Justice? I was afraid you'd left."

  "You didn't think I'd just leave you here? We went over this, remember?" His brow crunched.

  I nodded, and without a second thought, I launched myself over the mat and into his filthy arms.

  "Okay, okay, relax, already." He patted my back in an awkward way. "I'm here. Sorry I took so long getting back. I didn't mean for you to think I abandoned you."

  I untangled myself. "I thought maybe I dreamed it all."

  "You must have some really crazy dreams if you thought that." He gave a straight lipped smile.

  "Where'd you go?" I eyed the dirt all over him. "How long have I been asleep?"

  "Only a few hours. I had a couple errands I had to run. And your Guard is on high alert. Nothing can get near you with them here. You were safe."

  "Errands?" It was the only word that registered.

  "The City of The Dead. I had to make sure I wasn't losing my mind, either." He turned toward the weapons lining the walls, hands on his hips.

  My stomach plummeted. "You didn't ..." I suddenly wanted to jump into the shower and wash all the dirt off myself where his body had touched mine.

  "No choice." He shrugged, with his back to me, and walked toward an old sword.

  "And?"

  "And no body. Your tomb is empty. Her tomb ... Teine's tomb." He shook his head.

  I wasn't sure if I should be relieved or seriously panicked. "Empty. Empty? So ... hang on. You said my soul joined its other half. Shouldn't my old body, first body, whatever, still be in its tomb?"

  "Not if Accursed Arts were involved to reattach the split parts of your soul."

  I released an unsteady breath. "This just keeps getting worse. And Max? MacCoinnich's body?"

  He turned back to face me. "Gone."

  "Oh, god." My knees weakened. "What in the hell does that mean, Justice? Have you checked on Max? Is he okay?" I went into a full blown panic attack.