Grave Dance (Alex Craft, #2)(125)

Well, here goes. I reached out both with my hand and with my psyche. Part of me wanted to squeeze my eyes shut because I was terrified that I would accidental y grab her soul instead of the spel , but if I closed my eyes, that chance increased. Just be careful.

The spel felt slimy to my senses. In contrast, her soul underneath was a thing of heat and life. It was easy to tel the two apart, but not quite as easy to separate them. I needed something for the spel to latch on to, or maybe something to disrupt it. Drawing on the power stored in my ring, I sent a focused tendril of pure magic into the spel . In theory, the spel would either latch on to the new source of power and try to jump to me—though hopeful y I’d be faster and have time to cut off the stream while the spel was between hosts—or the magic would give the spel a bit of a jolt. Or it would do nothing, but that was a bad option so I didn’t think too hard about it.

The outline of the spel turned fuzzy as my magic hit it.

The edges curled like the legs of a dying spider, and I seized my opportunity. I snatched the spel in the very center and tugged. It pul ed free, wiggling in my grasp for a moment. Then, without the physical connection to Hol y to sustain it, the spel dissolved.

Hol y blinked. “Alex? Oh, my God, Alex!” She threw her Hol y blinked. “Alex? Oh, my God, Alex!” She threw her arms around my neck. “Is it real y gone?” The heat of her skin burned against my bare shoulders and she jerked back. “God, Al, you’re cold. Are those icicles on your dress?”

“It’s a long story.” I stood, pul ing her up with me. “Hol y, do you know what happened to you? Who did this?”

“I remember.” She wrapped her arms across her chest as her green eyes took on a distant, haunted look. “Al, she’s crazy. She left not long ago, saying she had one more spel to cast. She said this ritual would set her free.” Hol y shook her head and then suddenly went completely stil . Her hand flew to her mouth, her fingers pressed against her lips. “I didn’t,” she whispered.

“Didn’t what?” Oh, crap, what sick thing had the accomplice made Hol y do while she was under the spel ?

Tears slid down Hol y’s cheeks. “I ate it. I ate Faerie food.”





Chapter 36


Faerie food. It was addictive to mortals. Always. Even a single bite.

I gave my friend a hug, because she needed it. “We’l figure something out,” I promised. We could get it shipped out or something. We’d find a way. It didn’t have to be the end of the world. But if we didn’t find and stop the accomplice before she managed to merge realities, the world as we knew it would change. “I know this is going to sound cold, but we’re going to have to deal with the food later. Right now I need you to tel me about the witch. She’s performing the ritual tonight? Did she say where it would take place?”

Hol y’s eyes squeezed shut, blocking more tears as she shook her head. I turned to Falin.

“We have to get to the mortal realm, now.”

“Alex, I’m not even sure what court we’re in.” He stalked across the smal room, glancing at the contents as if the sparse furnishings would give him a clue. I didn’t know enough about the courts to make a guess, but nothing about the room made me think of a season.

Could we be in Stasis?

I froze. Stasis. A powerful witch who was a changeling. A changeling who’d recently been freed but was stil not truly free.

A sick feeling crawled down my skin. I knew someone who fit al those qualities.

Rianna.

“Hol y, what did the witch look like?” I asked, and my

“Hol y, what did the witch look like?” I asked, and my voice came out low, distant.

“I—” She shook her head. “I don’t know. She wore a cloak.”

Damn. When I’d first seen Rianna under the Blood Moon, when she’d stil been Coleman’s bound and subservient Shadow Girl, she’d worn a gray cloak. No. I couldn’t suspect my childhood friend of being a heartless murderer.

Or could I?

I’d felt the kil er’s hope, her joy in that circle by the river.

Tiddlywinx had said the witch wanted to be with her love. If the ritual was opening a way to be with true love, that might cause a lot of hope and joy. Love can cause great and terrible things.

I sank down on my heels, fal ing away from Hol y as I clutched my own knees.

The pieces fit. The timing fit. Rianna knew what I could do. She’d asked me for help around the same time this started. She’d also returned my dagger, which was now fol owing me around and had a tendency to tear holes in reality when used. It fit.

“Alex, what is it?” Falin asked, staring down at me.

I looked around. This room might be in my own castle. It couldn’t be Rianna. But it al fit.

No, not al . What about Desmond? I suspected that he loved her, and there was nothing keeping them apart. And if Rianna was the accomplice and already hunting me when I came to Faerie, why didn’t she trap me then?

So it doesn’t all fit. I breathed out a sigh as that little bit of hope created enough room in my chest for me to breathe.

But not much. The sick, dread-laced feeling stil gripped me hard.

I stood and turned toward Kyran. “You said you can get us to Nekros without passing through the winter court?”

He flashed me a grin. “My dear, I can most likely find the shadow of the witch you seek, but I believe we must hurry.