Roses & Rye (Toil & Trouble Book 3) (14 page)

Being
reborn fucking hurts.

My throat is raw and my ears ache. I’m disorientated and weak, but so powerful all at the same time. The fog in my head takes a moment to clear. Then the fear sweeps in.

I don’t know much except that we did it, I’m alive again. But at what cost?

Something is wrong. Something—

Jack.

Before I’m fully aware of it, the cave is gone. So is the sound of Lake Superior crashing outside. My mom’s voice is cut off like someone shut a door in her face. All I catch is, “
Wait!
”

But I don’t wait. I know she’s Mrs. Rudd, I know she somehow orchestrated all of this. From hiding my powers my whole life with that spell, to Jett killing me, to god knows what else. 

I don’t care about any of that. Not now.

All I want to do is to get to Jack. So that’s what I do.

The chamber flashes around me. The lights going crazy, just like when I rose from my grave of ice. Like a god is taking a burst of high-resolution photographs. Whatever magic I called down is still hopping through my veins. I’ve never done the apparating thing on my own before. As far as I know, no one has, except Jett. But nothing seems beyond me at the moment. Until I see him.

The white blinding light doesn’t lie. It’s illuminating every corner of a chamber I’ve never been in before, everything distorted in the rapidly strobing light. Including the one thing I’m focused on: Jack’s body.

Lying on the stone floor. Like Georg, only less messy. But just as god awfully, terrifyingly still. Just as gone. He looks like he could be sleeping, but I know he’s not.

No.

I sink to my knees beside him, one shaking hand running over that face I’ve been longing to touch for months. I can touch him now, but he can’t feel me.

I swallow a sob.

Cerunnos is standing over me. Or should I say
Herne
. I saw the last few minutes of Jack’s life as I regained mine. I know the real name of the bastard who has been after me my entire life. His bright green eyes are fixed on me, his smile almost as poisonous.

“What happened here? What the hell did you do to him?” I get to my feet, the air crackling around me.

“Me? Not a thing.” His smile is sinuous and cold. “You did this, witch.”

“What are you talking about? I’d never hurt him.” I promised him that. I
promised
.

“You were tied to him. Soul to soul. Didn’t you realize? That spell of his wasn’t meant to be worked by someone stupid enough to love their intended victim. He’s the whole reason you got elemental magic in the first place.” He aims a kick at Jack’s body but I throw him back with a flick of a finger, power still sizzling through my veins.

He looks startled, but I’m reeling, trying to make this nonsense make sense. Trying to make Jack not dead.

“My dying didn’t hurt him, but bringing me back to life did? That’s makes no fucking sense.”

Herne’s smile is pure evil. “Such is magic. Real magic. Dying is natural. Coming back to life? Not so much. It isn’t meant to be. You’re an abomination. But even such as you couldn’t make it happen without help. Now you see why witches were never meant to touch this kind of power. You can’t handle it, daughter of mine.”

“
What
did you say?”

The chamber is whirling, spinning and whirling like a painted top in a maniacally laughing child’s hands. Jett is looking at me through the madness, her eyes full of the inescapable truth.

I shake my head. I’ve seen this movie and it never ends well. Never.

The insane god in front of me is our faceless Daddy Dearest.

I get to my feet, feeling as insubstantial as if I’m a ghost again. This can’t be real. None of it.

Cerunnos isn’t Herne. I am not Herne’s daughter. My mother isn’t Mrs. Rudd. And most definitely of all, Jack is not dead. I refuse to look at the still body at my feet, staring instead at the god in front of me, trying to see anything of myself in him and failing.

“You’ve heard the story, I’m sure. Of how your mother stole magic from a demon. I was that ‘demon.’ The demon god that all once served.” His lips curve into a sneer as he looks at Loki. “Until I became too powerful for some. I was banished. That is when I met Oriane.”

This piece of work and my
mother
? “You loved her?”

He laughs. “Love? Don’t be stupid. I indulged her, like a favored pet, for many years. I was bored and she was entertaining with her rhymes and simple magic. We even had offspring. Four girls, to be precise.” My stomach twists. “It was an interesting interlude. But then her power grew, twisting beyond what I had foreseen.” His face darkens. “Soul magic. Something never meant to be. I knew then that I’d made a mistake.”

I shake my head. “You mean you got scared. Scared of her. And scared of us.” Jack was right, this asshole is a piece of yellow-bellied work. And he’s my
father
? I glance at Jett, who has a grimace of distaste on her face to match mine. I know I should feel something, but all that really registers is a growing anger at how he fucked with my mom.

Herne ignores my comments, his eyes a bright glowing red. “I made a mess, and I needed to clean it up. My daughters and my little play wife. I came to kill you one night, but she had already fled.

“By then Oriane could jump through time like a child through hoops.” He grimaces. “Another power I did not share. She scattered you all through the centuries, letting you grow up apart, dancing from one to the other to the other, then finally bringing you back together centuries later. By then I had already given up on finding you all. I had a new form and a better plan. Why not just eradicate all the refuse in one fell swoop?” He smiles. “Then came that prophecy, the prophecy about you and your sisters. So ironic how my own daughter gave me the power to rally the troops. Convincing your sister to kill you was the icing on the cake.”

“You actually think
you
convinced me to kill Seph?” Jett laughs and Herne turns to her, one eyebrow raised. “You sorry son of a bitch, that was Mom.”

“Another one of Oriane’s mad plans?” He shakes his head, chuckling darkly. “Nice trick, but it won’t work this time.” Before either of us can move, he yanks Jett’s sword from where it’s wedged into the floor and slams it into my stomach, twisting the handle cruelly as I fall to my knees, staring up at him, tasting blood on my lips.

He leaves me there next to Jack’s still body, laughing softly. I watch him advance on my sister, who lifts her own hands, lips parting in a snarl as magic crackles in the air. My fingers close on the hilt as I stagger to my feet, warmth soaking my fingers.

Herne turns from Jett, puzzled to see me upright. I fall against him. He curses, trying to shove me away, but I wrap my hands in his shirt, ignoring the pain to give him the biggest, toothiest grin I can manage.

“It’s my birthday, Pops. Did you miss it—for the twenty-seventh time? A sword through the heart can’t kill me anymore. But I think this will take care of you.”

I reach into his chest with both hands and yank out his soul. It’s so heavy, like a lump of raw unformed iron, that I fall back, slamming against the wall. Cold and black and hard. I squeeze and squeeze until finally what passes for Herne’s soul crumbles in my hands.

Scarlet and emerald light twists into eye-searing ribbons that fracture and burst apart with a roar that makes even Loki clamp his hands over his ears. But seconds later, the awful light and noise are gone.

“That’s one way to wrap up a world-domination scheme,” the god of chaos says, moving over to prod the pile of ash on the floor with a booted foot. A bit of horn falls out just as I fall to my knees for the sixth or seventh time of the night.

“Get
this fucking thing out of me. I’ve had enough of swords, goddammit. Especially this one. Just pull it out and heal me already.”

Jett does as I ask, kneeling next to me and looking uncharacteristically pensive the whole time. Her healing is shaky and slow, her magic still sluggish, due to Jack’s attack. When she’s done, she cleans my blood off her blade and slides it home, getting to her feet.

“I know we need to talk, but I don’t want you distracted.” She looks at Jack’s body, then at me, pressing her lips together. “Be careful, Seph. Do it right this time.”

Do what right? I look down at Jack. Say good-bye? I can’t do that shit again. I can’t. But when I raise my eyes, my sister is gone.

I crawl over to run a shaking hand over his chest. Willing it to rise. For him to blink his eyes and wake up. To see me and know that everything is okay again. This can’t be real, right?

The universe cannot be this fucking cruel.

Bells ring through the room, making me blink and look around stupidly. It’s Rochie, who flutters to the ground next to Jack, her wings trembling.

“Where the fuck did you come from?”

“Your mother; she’s a little too preoccupied to come herself at present.”
Story of my life
. The fairy glances down at Jack, tears glittering in her furious eyes. “Why haven’t you kissed him yet?”

“Kissed him? Holy—this isn’t
Sleeping Beauty
. Jack’s
dead
, Rochie.” Tears thicken my throat as I say the words. For the first time in a long time, I don’t have the urge to slap the fairy in front of me. I thought it was going to be rough coming back to life again, but this?

This shit I cannot bear.

I close my eyes, wishing like hell I could be numb again, but my face starts stinging. Because Rochie is slapping me, hard. Over and over again. “So were you,” she snaps.

“That was different. That was mostly my mom. And because I’m Spring, Rochie. I’m meant to come back, but Jack—”

“Bull. Fucking. Shit.
You
can bring him back. Remember my fucking plan? Your souls are tied together, Seph. By him, by me, and by you. Bone and blood, magic and heart. Why do you think I was so intent on this?” She darts down and stabs a finger into my side, making me wince.

The tattoo?
I must say it out loud because she rolls her eyes
.

“Exactly. Flesh. His name is woven into your very skin. And what did you pick to go with it? Yggdrasil—the tree of life! How much more proof do you need that you can do this? Bring him back, you stupid witch!”

“Five magicks,” I whisper, threading my fingers through Jack’s hair. Starting to hope as a tendril of power unfurls, tickling my insides. “Isn’t that a Megadeth song?”

Rochie throws her hands in the air. “I told you before, it’s a damn powerful spell and considering who you are, a little more rebirth might be possible. Try, Persephone. Just fucking try.”

I lean down. Not a breath stirs past those perfect, slightly parted lips. I trail a finger over the bottom one. He’s still warm. So I kiss him. The last time we did this, I was dying. Now I know how he felt.

I’d forgotten the exact taste of his lips. Their precise texture, so firm and soft. The rasp of his stubble against my skin. But I remember the taste of my own tears all too well. Nothing is happening.

Jack is dead. The stubborn son of a bitch. I kiss him harder, reaching deeper, opening myself to the last threads of power still jumping around inside me. Magic is never a one-way street, though sometimes those left-hand turns can really give a witch whiplash.

My head feels heavy as the tears come faster now. So fast I almost miss the breath against my lips as I pull back but not the raspy words that accompany it. 

“Stop crying. Goddammit, you know I hate the crying.”

The heaviness on my head is his fingers in my hair. I lift my face to see him looking straight at me. Seeing me for the first time in what feels like forever. For a second I can’t even speak. I’m almost afraid if I try, he still won’t hear me. Then sheer frustration wins out.

“First I die, then you die.” I thump his shoulder with my fist, hard, barely able to talk through the tears still choking my throat. “I mean, seriously, who
does
that shit, Jack?”

“Romeo and Juliet?” he whispers weakly.

“Fuck you. I always hated that stupid play.”

“Ah, that’s my girl. Such a romantic.”

“Jack—”

“Could you shut up for one second and kiss me? That last one didn’t really count.”

“Really? Cause I think it just might have been the kiss of a lifetime, you son—“

Jack shuts me up with his mouth.

And I don’t mind at all.

Five
minutes later, Jack’s on his feet and has me backed into an alcove just outside Herne’s chamber as Loki stands by, looking somewhere between bemused and impatient.

“I thought you had places to be, Jokul.” He calls out for the third or maybe it’s the fourth time. If it weren’t for him, Jack and I would be alone. Rochie got teary-eyed, slapped Jack once on the nose and disappeared. Fairies, even more so than big girls, don’t cry. I’d say that’s because they’d melt away like the witch in
The Wizard of Oz
, but I’m feeling rather magnanimous at the moment, even toward annoying little fairies.

“How?” Jack demands again, in between bruising kisses that sting my lips.

“Umm, it’s a little…” Kiss.
“…complicated.” Kiss. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me our souls were tied together?”

“I would’ve gotten around to it. Eventually. But then you died. Don’t you ever do that again, by the way.”

“Back at you.” Kiss. Kiss.
Kiss.

“Are you a god now?”

“Gods can’t die, Persephone.”

“Pretty sure I just killed one.”

“Well, okay, but you killed me before I could bind the elements and rise. I’m not a god.”

“That’s good, I don’t like gods very much.”

From behind us, I hear Loki’s cough, and I ignore it.

I slide my fingers under Jack’s shirt, tracing those hard abs that draw tight at my touch before running my hand straight down his jeans. Jacks always been a commando type of guy and I see things haven’t changed. Or rather I
feel
. Damn, it is good to be back.

My hand twists around his raging hard-on and Jack sucks in a harsh breath. “Not now, princess.”

“Why not?” I plead, quickly getting into a rhythm that has Jack’s eyes rolling back in his head. “Surely there is a broom closet hidden somewhere in this place?”

Loki clears his throat. “I like a nice steamy reunion as well as the next god of chaos, but you two need to focus. I don’t think we want Jokul reneging on another vow.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” I look at the god of chaos over my shoulder, without taking my hand from Jack’s pants.

“You know who I am.”

“Yes. I do. And what you are. You’re not our friend.”

“Perhaps not, but I do have some family feeling, believe it or not.”

“What the hell does family have to do with it?” I finally withdraw my hand. Jack gasps, leaning back against the wall, closing his eyes and muttering something about baseball under his breath.

“Didn’t Jokul ever tell you? He’s my brother.”

Jack is related to the god of chaos? Not just related, but siblings. Then again, I can’t talk. My family is… I think of Jett’s face before she took off.

Honestly, I’m not sure what my family is anymore.

“Really?” I stick out my hand. “I’m his future wife. How’s it going?”

He looks at my hand, then at my face before raising an eyebrow. “Rather pressing at the moment, as I think I’ve mentioned. We’d best save the niceties for later.”

“Okay.” I shrug. “It’s great to meet you and all, but can you just run along for a moment or thirty?”

“Umm, sorry, but no. Everyone back home will be pleased to know Herne’s been dealt with—”

“Home?” I hiss at Jack.

“He’s talking about Ásgarðr,” he whispers in my ear, then nips it. “And don’t start.”

“Start what? I mean, yeah, I might be curious. Do you know Thor?”

Jack sighs.

“—I believe you mentioned an appointment, Brother dear?”

“Shit. Krueger. The werewolves,              ” Jack mutters.

Unease tightens my stomach, chasing away some of the giddy relief I’ve been riding.
Luna
. “That can wait.”

“No, it can’t. I’ve no wish to be breaking any more vows, Seph. We’ve tempted karma enough, don’t you think?”

He has a point.

“We have a few more things to settle before you go,” Loki says. Then he explains.

Jack calls Stephen. Less than twenty minutes later, the bruins meet us on a gravel road somewhere just south of Canada.

My undeadness is greeted with absolute, stunned silence.

Then Dominic lashes out, convinced this is some sort of sick trick on Jack’s part. It’s only when I shut the bruin up by giving him a hug that everyone settles down enough for me to explain. Stephen keeps looking at me and I can see the question in his eyes, but I can’t answer it yet. Not until I talk to my sister.

Five minutes after that bit of excitement, I’m face to face with my ex-best friend. The circumstances are less than ideal. The bruins have the small island surrounded. Spring is in full-force now, even this far north, thanks to me. Green veils the trees, and the waterways sparkle blue and silver in the warmth of the sun. A shiver works down my spine anyway as I look into those eerily beautiful features. My last memory of Luna is seeing her wolf’s muzzle wet with Georg’s blood.

I can’t forgive her for that. Even knowing what she was facing, what she was promised, I just can’t. She looks pleased to see me, though, after the initial double take.

“Heard you died.” She gives Jack a sidelong look, before smiling at me as if we’re not accompanied by close to ten angry bruins looking to collect a blood debt. “Guess I should know better than to listen to rumors spread by certain people, eh, baby witch?”

Her eyes are full-on white now, milky and pale instead of their previous pink. They make my insides roll. By all rights, Luna should’ve been dead months ago, but from what Loki said, Herne enjoyed keeping her alive while her pack died one after another.

Not that the god of chaos was fussed about that. He seemed more amused than anything else until Jack threatened to shut off the northern lights for the next century or so. Slightly less gleeful, Loki told us that Herne had been giving Luna just enough of the real cure to keep her alive while slowly killing the rest of her pack. It’s enough to make anyone lose their mind, but she seems sane at the moment, her words lacking none of their usual bite.

“I wish you killing Georg was a rumor,” I say. “Goddamn you, sunshine.” Despite my best intentions, my voice is shaking. I’ve had enough of death for one day. But there’s going to be no getting around this one.

Luna knows it, too.

Then Stephen surprises us both.

“Where are the rest of those that attacked our king?” He’s frowning, looking around the marshy glen at the handful of wolves. None of the scant dozen looks more than twenty. There are a handful of cubs, too, almost toddlers, hiding amongst the trees. A couple of the bears stir, looking uncomfortable. Bruins have a soft spot for children. Even those of their enemies.

“All dead.” Luna lifts her chin. “I’m the only one of the old regime left.”

Stephen looks around the circle of bruins. Dominic is the only bear I recognize and Ajax is nowhere to be seen. But in the grunts, snorts and baring of teeth that follow Luna’s words, a consensus seems to be reached. A moment later, Stephen nods.

“Then you’re the only one we have an issue with. So let’s settle it. You and me. One on one.” Stephen’s words are unmistakably a death sentence. Luna’s strong. And despite the way moon madness ravages the brain and eventually shuts it down entirely, until the very end, it only increases a wolf’s strength.

But there is a reason wolves are pack animals and bears aren’t.

Stephen will tear her apart—but I also know the soon-to-be bruin king’s actions are meant to be a mercy. To be fair.

At least as fair as things get in our world.

“He’s right and you know it.” Jack’s voice is low in my ear as all around us the bruins roar in response to Stephen’s words. The small, ragged band of werewolves is silent, unblinking. “It’s the only way they can balance what happened.”

I nod once, shortly, but it hurts anyway.

To my surprise, Luna is smiling when I turn around with my hands clenched so tightly my nails dig into my palms hard enough to break the skin.

“No last ditch effort to save me, baby witch?”

“No. You deserve to die for what you did to Georg. But …I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

Her chin lifts. “It’s worth it to let my people die in peace.”

I glance over my shoulder at Stephen, whose face is a mask. He looks huge in the half-light, a monster formed of shadows. His bear is clawing its way out, gleaming black fur rippling over his pale skin, taking over. Until only his blue eyes retain any shred of humanity. He looks at me and I swear there’s understanding along with the blood-chilling resolve.

“He’ll rip you apart.”

“I’ll go down fighting. I think this one will keep his word even when I’m dead. But you’ll make sure of that for me …won’t you? Don’t let him kill them all.” For the first time, I realize Luna’s scared. Really scared.

I let go of Jack to yank her close.

“I’ll do more than that,” I whisper in her ear. “I have the cure, Luna. The
real
cure.” Loki told us about the cures Herne had been hoarding. Ones for moon madness and wasting sickness and other nasty brews he’d concocted over the years and not yet released. Jett stole one of those cures for Syana and I have another just like it in my pocket, courtesy of one very confusing god of chaos.

Even in the midst of all this shit, my sister took pains to ensure my friend was safe. I’ve got a whole lot of talking to do with her and my mom, but right now Luna’s staring at me, those white eyes glistening. She swallows hard and nods, forcing that smile back onto her face.

“Well alrighty then, baby witch. I got some bruin ass to kick.”

Luna turns to Stephen and gives another short nod, before looking over the remnants of her pack. A ragged, wet-behind-the-ears dozen remaining of what was once a pack fifty strong. Without Stephen’s mercy and Loki’s light-fingeredness they’d be done for, just like Cer—Herne planned.

It doesn’t take long.

Luna shifts, a sleek white wolf leaping for the giant black bear. He bats her away with a massive paw. She slams into a nearby boulder with a rib-splitting crack but is on her feet in seconds, going for him again.

Whether for my sake or the watching werewolves, I don’t know, but within a few minutes the massive bear rises on its hind legs for the final blow, towering above the white wolf. Luna doesn’t cower or whine. Instead, she shifts at the last second, looking over her shoulder at me and winking right before Stephen’s claws rake across her throat, ripping her head from her body. I close my eyes, but I can hear the blood flying across the arena along with the awful thump of Luna’s head hitting the earth.

Time seems to slow down, drawing the moment out, as if death makes a hole in its fabric. One that’s swallowed up quickly as the bruins’ shouts bring me out of my daze.

I open my eyes to see the fat, red droplets still pattering to the ground at my feet. Soaking into the rain-wet earth along with my tears.

“At least he made it clean.” Jack’s arms snake around my middle.

A second later Stephen is there, closing my numb fingers over the vial that my sister left on his desk. “I already used it on Syana. She was better in a few hours. Even Ajax can’t smell a trace of the moon madness on her anymore. Once we’re gone, give it to them.”

I stare up at the bruin in shock, but he’s already turning away, his back stiff.

Jack raises his eyebrows before tightening his hold on me.

“Well, I didn’t expect him to go quite that far.”

“He’ll forgive Jett now.” I twist to look up at Jack, wanting all the bad stuff to be at an end. “Don’t you think?”

Jack looks uncomfortable. He knows I can’t take much more. Not after the day we’ve had. Hell, the year we’ve had. The decade?
Shit.

“I don’t know, princess,” he says slowly. “Stephen has a code of honor I don’t pretend to understand, but killing your own blood, even with the intent to save them….” He shakes his head. “I’m not sure a bruin can wrap their head around that, especially a bruin like him. Are
you
going to be able to forgive her? That seems the better question to me.”

And I don’t know the answer. I just don’t fucking know. But I do know one thing.

“Take me home, Jack.”