Why were they rejecting him if he was part of them, made from them? He was the guardian…
Think.
How did a beast like him think? He was pure instinct and reaction, he was the hunter and he was in pursuit of his prey. And her scent…
Her scent.
Alex.
Nick fought for control, for rationality, for something, anything. And it slipped from his grasp. Because he had found her instead.
Just kneeling there, in the middle of the stone circle, while the rain slammed down around her and the wind tore at her.
‘But Nick is real,’ she shouted, her voice almost lost in the tempest around her. ‘He’s Maeve’s father. I think I – I love him. Please, you have to help me save him.’
The wind seemed to still and Nick froze with it. Listening, incredulously, to her words.
She loved him? How could she love him? He’d done nothing but hurt her. And they barely knew each other.
But…
But she said he was Maeve’s father.
‘But heisreal.’ Alex sobbed out the words as if in denial, as if arguing with someone or something he couldn’t see.
Perhaps he’d never be able to see it. Not now. Not when he was lost. But he still knew what it was.
Alex was arguing with the wild wood itself, the thing that had made him, that would destroy him. She was trying to save him. Even now. Even after everything he had done…
Love transforms all things. It makes you real.
He came to a halt behind her and his hands moved in spite of himself, against his will. He didn’t have a will now. He never would again. He was Crom’s creature, Chambers’ host. He was nothing but a shell for their evil.
Accept that, and it was so easy. Just give in and stop fighting, and all the struggle would fall away, taking the pain and the misery with it. That was what they promised, the two of them. He tried to believe that.
If he just gave up the struggle, and joined them in an unholy trinity, he’d never want again. Never feel the pain and loss. Never be not-enough for anyone again.
But Sally said differently. So did Alex.
You are not a monster.
His hand grabbed Alex’s hair, fingers tangling in it, and he dragged her to her feet, pulling her back against his body so he could hold her struggling form still. But she didn’t struggle. All the fight seemed to have left her. Whether it was fear or defeat, he didn’t know.
His mouth moved, his voice used by the very thing he despised.
‘Oh, very real. More real than ever, thanks to you. And now he’s ours, so are you. It’s over, Alexandra. You are the last of the de Wildes and you have the blood of the women of Kilfayne in you, however watered down. You can still the wild wood and set us all free. You can have him as your own if you want. We can give you that. But you will submit to us. We have won.’
Wait.
Why was Chambers making bargains with her?
It was like a punch to the gut. Hewasreal. Alex said it and Alex made it so. She named him, called him Nick. Here, in the heart of the wild wood. She was a de Wilde too but, by Chambers’ own admission, she had the blood of Kilfayne, a wise woman, like Sally. Like Maeve would be one day. Like all the long line of them back to the beginning of all of this.
She called him back into being, just as Sally had.
She made him real. Now.
And they were not alone. They had the forest, the wild wood, the very thing that had trapped and contained Crom for millennia. They knew how to control it. To keep the bonds tight. Or to let them go entirely.
