Windburn (The Elemental Series #4)(54)

“So you can die in peace?” There was a thread of sadness to Blackbird’s voice I didn’t understand.

“Yes.” One word, but even one was becoming too much for me.

Blackbird knelt beside me, his cloak spread over my body. It didn’t dissolve as Keeda’s had.

“Keeda was a tool, as is Cassava. They think they are running the show, but they aren’t. I will rule the Rim through her. As I will rule all the families through their leaders. That is what the mother goddess wants, for her children to all be together.”

“Not like that.” I stared up at him while I clutched his cloak. “She wouldn’t want it done this way.”

“You don’t know the mother goddess like I do. She and I go way back. She chose me when I was a child. My mother bedded several men while wearing different stones in order to make sure I came into existence.” It felt like he was laughing at me and I didn’t understand.

“Then why was Cassava scheming with Requiem to create a child like you?”

Blackbird grinned. “Ah, yes. Requiem. Idiot of epic proportion. Mother wanted to see if another child like me could be born naturally and pose a threat. She promised Requiem he could have you for test breeding, over and over.” His grin widened. “But it appears he got Bella instead.”

A sharp stab of pain shot through my body. I tried to arch away from the wound in my back, but I barely twitched.

“Death is a funny thing. It can help us see more clearly. Or so I’m told. Do you see me clearly yet, Larkspur?” He put his hands to the edge of his hood.

“You are Cassava’s lover.”

“Yes, I am that,” he said. “She is my everything. Lover. Confidante. Partner. And more.”

If I could have gagged I would have. I said nothing as he began to peel back the cloak, slowly revealing his dark hair. Coal? No, it couldn’t be Coal. I’d killed him.

Dark hair, blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Raven.”

He ran a hand down my cheek. “Yes, sister. You were to be mine once Requiem was done with you. Mother has a taste for the exotic looks, and I,” he leaned in and brushed his lips over mine, “share that with her.”

I couldn’t move, couldn’t even pull away. My brother. He was Cassava’s lover, son. The words jumbled up in my head. Twisted was the only thing I could think. She’d twisted him into a monster.

“Vetch, help me put her into the oubliette.” He snapped his fingers and Vetch grabbed me under the arms.

There was one last thing I could do, to help Bella and her child survive. I reached toward Vetch with one hand and pushed Spirit into him, driving it deep into his mind. There was nothing of him there, no emotion, no personality. I broke what was left of it apart, and stopped his heart. He stiffened under my hand.

“Lark, that wasn’t necessary.” Raven chided me as though I’d thrown a temper tantrum. Vetch dropped to the ground, his heart stilled. One less sibling to deal with, and more importantly, my sisters were safe from him. Raven bent and took the armband from Vetch, then leaned over me. “Are you quite done?”

I looked up at him, held his gaze. “No.” With the last of my strength, I grabbed him with both hands and pushed Spirit into him. I had to kill him, I had to if Bella and her child were to have a chance at stopping Cassava.

Power raged between us as he fought. Spirit screeched, the sound like a thousand death cries at once, of a hurricane and earthquake, of a tsunami, all rolled into the roar of Spirit doing battle.

I didn’t hold back. I was dying, I knew it.

So did he.

“Lark, don’t!” His eyes were full of terror as I hammered him with everything I had. He kicked me in the stomach and sent me tumbling backward. I hit the rounded edges of something anything but natural. Smooth, hard, and stinking like rubber.

The oubliette.

“You almost had me there, sis. Almost.” Raven stood over the opening of the oubliette and I could do nothing but stare up at him and hate him.

“Almost,” I whispered. That had been my life. Almost. Maybe. Nearly. Failure after failure. Tears slipped down my cheeks.

“Don’t cry.” He crouched beside the opening. “I won’t forget you, Lark. Everyone else will, but I will remember you as the one who could have stopped me.” He winked and slammed the oubliette’s rounded door shut, thrusting me into total darkness.

The oubliette shifted under me, sinking into the ground. Sucking me down into my grave.

“Mother goddess,” I whispered. My last hope was that she would hear me. “Please, this can’t be the end.”

There was no answering whisper, no fleeting touch of comfort. I slumped, my body curled with the curve of my prison. My hand brushed against the leather bag at my waist. Painfully, I lifted the bag and rested it on my belly, spilling the contents onto my chest.

Blinking, I realized I could see them. The white stone I’d taken from the statue in the Pit glowed, flickering with light. I touched my finger to it and a low-grade buzz flickered through my body. The wound in my back throbbed in time with my slowing heart, but the buzz . . . it pushed the pain back. I closed my eyes, and clutched the chunk of stone. Whatever it was doing seemed to be numbing the pain, which was good enough for me. To die without suffering . . . sleep dragged me into its depths. My dreams were strange, distorted images.