A Great and Terrible Beauty (Gemma Doyle #1)(100)

THERE ARE NO BIRDS. NO FLOWERS. NO SUNSET. THERE’S an eerie grayness to everything beyond the bright door. The empty boat is still on the river, stuck fast in a thin sheet of ice.

“If you want me, here I am,” I shout. It echoes all around me. I am, I am, I am.

“Gemma? Gemma!” My mother emerges from behind a tree. Her voice, sure and strong, draws me in.

“Mother?”

Tears spring to her eyes. “Gemma, I was afraid . . . but you’re all right.” She smiles, and everything inside me bends to her. I’m tired and uncertain but she’s here now. She’ll help me set things right.

“Mother, I’m sorry. I’ve made a mess of things. You told me not to use the magic yet, and I did, and now it’s all ruined and Pippa’s . . .” I can’t bring myself to say anything more, can’t even think it.

“Shhh, Gemma, no time for tears. You’re here to bring Pippa back, aren’t you?”

I nod.

“There’s no time to lose, then. Quickly, before the creature returns.”

I follow her past the silver arch, deep into the garden, to the center of those tall crystals that hold so much power.

“Put your hands on the runes.”

I hesitate. I don’t know why.

“Gemma,” she says, green eyes narrowing. “You have to trust me or your friend will be lost forever. Do you want that on your conscience?”

I think of Pippa struggling in the icy water where she fell. Where I left her. My hands hover over the runes.

“That’s it, my darling. Everything’s forgotten now. Soon, we’ll be together again.”

I put my left hand to the rune. The vibration travels through me. I’m weakened from our other trips, and the magic starts to pull me under with its power. It’s too much for me. Mother opens her hand to me. There it is, pink and alive and open. I have only to take hold of it. My arm rises. My fingers reach toward hers, till my skin vibrates with the nearness of her. Our fingers touch.

“At last . . .”

Instantly, the thing that hides in my mother’s shape emerges, rising high as the stones themselves. With a great yell, the creature grabs hold of my arm. I can feel the coldness of it sliding through my arm, into my veins, creeping toward my heart. The heat leaving me. I’m no match for it.

Everything falls away. We’re falling fast together, past the mountain and the churning sky, through the veil that separates the realms from the mortal world. The thing cackles in delight.

“At last . . . at last . . .”

This new magic takes me by surprise as it surges through me, joining to my will. It is overwhelming, the raw nakedness of this power. I never want to let it go. I could use it to control, to wound, to win.

The creature cackles. “Yes . . . it’s intoxicating, isn’t it?”

Yes, oh, yes. Is this what my mother and Circe felt, what they were afraid of losing—a power they could not have in their own world? Anger. Joy. Ecstasy. Rage. All theirs. All mine.

“We’re almost there,” the thing whispers.

Below me London spreads out like a lady’s fan, ornate and delicate. A city I wanted to see when I lived in India. A city I still want to see. On my own.

The thing senses my discomfort. “You could rule it,” it says, nearly licking my ear.

Yes, yes, yes.

No. Not really. Not attached to this creature. The power would never be mine. It would control me. No, no, no. Let it win. Be joined. I’m weary with choice. It makes me heavy. So heavy I could sleep forever. Let Circe win. Abandon my family and friends. Float downstream.

No.

At this the thing seems to grow weaker. You have to know yourself, know what you want. That’s what Mother told me. What I want . . . what I want . . .

I want to go back. And it’s coming with me. Suddenly, London shrinks to a pinpoint, out of reach. I’m pulling the thing back from the world with me, back to the mountaintop, back to the grotto and the runes.

Shrieks and howls, the hideous cries of the damned lash at me. “You tricked us!”

It expands into a ghastly, churning wall that reaches up to the sky. I’ve never seen anything more terrifying, and for a moment, I can’t feel anything but a fear so real I’m frozen there. Those skeletal hands grip tightly around my neck, squeezing. Panicked, I fight back, using the magic to wound it as much as possible. Each time it comes back, taking more and more of my energy.

The hands come around my neck again, but I’ve got very little fight left.

“Yes, that’s it. Give yourself over to me.”

I can’t think. Can barely breathe. Overhead, the sky roils gray and black. We sat here and counted clouds in the blue. Blue as my mother’s silk dress. Blue as a promise. A hope. She came back for me. I can’t leave her to this.

Those black, swirling orbs lean closer. The smell of rot fills my nostrils. Tears sting at my eyes. I have nothing left but that hope and a whisper.

“Mother . . . I forgive you.”

The grip loosens. The thing’s eyes widen, the hideous mouth opens. Its power shrinks. “No!”

I feel my strength returning. My voice grows, the words take on a life of their own. “I forgive you, Mother. I forgive you, Mary Dowd.”

The creature writhes and screams. I roll from its grasp. It is losing the fight, diminishing. It howls at me in pain, but I don’t stop. I repeat it like a mantra as I grab a rock and smash the first rune. It crumbles in a shower of crystal rain, and I smash the second.