The shadows strike.
Brigid’s body blurs. One second she’s ten feet away, the next her fingers close around my throat. The Morrigan rams my skull against the wall. Dust and metal shavings rain down.
“Your persistence amuses,” she purrs, Brigid’s lips brushing my ear.“Shall I make you watch while I unspool your companions’entrails? Let you count each scream?”
The Raven King thrashes, howling. I lock eyes with the Morrigan, ignoring the crushing pressure on my windpipe. "Do your worst," I rasp. "But if I die, so does he. There is no other vessel prepared to hold him." The tattoos all over my body ensure the Raven King’s survival in a vessel. I was to be the last one. Am the last one.
A spasm of uncertainty crosses her face and the Morrigan's grip falters for a split second.
I seize the moment, slipping out of her hands and slipping into the shadows on the other side of the space. "Brigid," I say urgently, "I know you're in there. Fight her."
The Morrigan snarls. "Fool! She is mine now. Your pathetic love cannot—"
Her words cut off in a choked gasp. Brigid's eyes roll back, her body going rigid. When they open again, they're clear. Terrified.
"Marius," Brigid whispers, her true voice emerging. "Help me. I can't—"
Then she's gone again, the Morrigan's cold rage twisting her features.
Chapter Ten
Marius
The Morrigan's fury erupts like a volcano, her raven-black hair whipping around her face as she turns on the others.
She knows she can't kill me while the Raven King is trapped inside me. Small comfort as I watch her unloose hell on the others. The goddess’s hand lashes out and a ribbon of darkness wraps around Callen's throat, lifting him from the ground. His face turns red as he claws at the shadowy noose.
"Callen!" Lochan shouts. He charges forward, blade out, but I know he’ll never use it. It’s still Brigid’s body.
The goddess rotates her wrist. Lochan goes flying, crashing into empty oil drums with a deafening noise that reverberates throughout the building.
The Morrigan's eyes blaze as she turns her wrath on Rory and Tiernan. With a snarl, she splays her fingers and tendrils of inky darkness shoot from her fingertips. They wrap around Rory's legs, yanking him off his feet. He hits the ground hard, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs.
Tiernan leaps to help him, but the Morrigan is too fast. She moves her hand, and a wave of pure force slams into Tiernan's chest. The blow lifts sends him hurtling across the room. He crashes into a stack of wooden pallets that splinter and collapse around him.
The goddess's laughter bounces off the walls, a chilling sound of madness and fury.
"Weak, pathetic beings," the Morrigan hisses. "Did you truly think you could stand against a goddess?"
The Morrigan whirls to face me, her eyes wild with spitefulness. "You'll watch them die, boy. One by one, I'll tear them apart, using the vessel they love."
But as she turns back to her victims, I notice something. A flare in her eyes, a tremor in her hand. The goddess's rage is making her sloppy, her movements less precise. She's so consumed by vengeance that she's losing her iron grip on Brigid's body.
I watch closely, searching for any sign of Brigid coming through. The Morrigan's control is wavering, like a radio signal fading in and out. For a split second, I catch a glimpse of Brigid—my Brigid—in those wild eyes.
The goddess's movements grow erratic. Her fingers twitch and spasm and it’s clear there is a battle raging beneath the surface. Brigid's consciousness fights to break free. Her desperate need to protect her mates powers her struggle against that which otherwise would be unassailable. The Morrigan miscalculated. She may be the goddess of fate, but fate itself is bigger than anything, including the Morrigan.
The others sense it too. Callen's eyes widen as the dark rope around his throat loosens just enough for him to draw a desperate breath.
In that moment, a wild, do-or-die plan flashes through my mind. The Raven King's power whirls beneath my skin, a dark storm craving to be let go, as I hold it in check. If I can channel that magic—his magic—into Brigid, it might give her the strength to fight back against the Morrigan's control.
But it's dangerous. Reckless. This shadow magic is volatile, unpredictable, stronger than anything I’ve ever felt. It could tear Brigid apart from the inside out. Or worse, it could amplify the Morrigan's power, dooming us all.
I hesitate for a heartbeat, weighing the risks. The goddess's grip on Callen tightens once more, his face turning an alarming shade of purple. Time's running out.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I reach deep, tapping into the line of magic that was separated from the Raven King when he became locked away in my mind. It responds eagerly, with shocking disloyalty. It slides and slithers, hungry and wanting to wrap itself around every particle of my being. For a moment, I fear I'll lose myself in its abyss.
But I push through, forcing the magic to bend to my will. I shape it, mold it. Carefully, I begin to draw the magic out, channeling it through my body. It burns, yet it feels like it’s turning my blood to ice.
