“We need fighters. Allies. Anyone willing to go back to the Otherside and fight the Morrigan.”
Her slim eyebrow arches. “You want an army?”
“As many as we can get.”
She holds my eye and I feel like she’s digging into my soul. I don’t know what Cirice’s power is, if she’s gifted in any way, but from the warm charge rolling down my spine there’s no doubt there’s more to her than appears.
Leaning over the counter she says, “I met your girl—the human. She’s strong. Went head-to-head with the Shaman and it seems like maybe she won.”
I keep my face neutral. We never asked how she managed to get us all in and out of the Otherside—even using the tunnel underground. There are rules—balances between the realms. Passage doesn’t come lightly.
&n
bsp; “What’s your point, Cirice?” Sam says.
“Morgan is powerful. She’s smart but she’s also naïve. You have to go into the Morrigan’s castle fully loaded. You don’t just want people in your army. You want fighters. The best.” She looks between us. “People like yourselves.”
An uneasy feeling emerges in my stomach. “What are you thinking?”
The gold in her eyes twinkles. “You need the Legion of Immortals.”
Sam’s jaw drops. “The Six?”
“No.” I hold up my hands. Full stop. No.
“Without them, you’ll lose the war.”
“With them will cause chaos and we’ll all probably die before we even get to the battle,” I snap back.
She rests her hands on her hips. “You know I’m right. And you know they’re exactly what you need.”
“Too bad it’s impossible,” Sam says. “The Shaman owns their contract. I don’t think he’s going to hand them over easily.”
“Nothing is impossible.” The knowing look on her face says it all. “You just have to be willing to fight for it.”
7
Morgan
At some point during the night the walls and floors stop spinning and I fall into an uncomfortable, light sleep. My head pounds at any movement and the sun peeking in the arched, lead glass window makes my brain want to shatter into a million pieces.
“Here,” a voice says. “Drink this.”
I crack an eye through the sharp, spiking pain and see Nevis standing over me with a glass of water.
“Is that the good stuff?” I ask.
“Straight from the source. You’ll feel better soon.”
After three attempts to sit up on my own, Nevis has to help me, navigating the cup near my mouth. I take a sip of the cool water and lie back again.
“God, what happened last night? I just remember lots of wine, loud music, and the Morrigan freaking me out.”
“That about sums it up, although there was the interesting part about the Morrigan trying to get you to kill Bunny.”
I search my memory but mostly I come up with the image of Bunny sitting at the foot of the dais looking handsome and out of my reach. Another sip of water and my brain fog clears and I do recall the faint whispers of The Morrigan, Anand, as she called herself, taunting me with the option to take Bunny out myself. The thought, along with the gallons of wine in my belly makes me nauseous.
I look at Nevis and concede, “If you want me to forgive him and the Queen wants me to kill him, I have to trust that one of you may have a better plan in mind.”