Delaney nods.
“There has to be a way to reverse it, right?” I turn to Fearghas. If anyone can know of a way to save her—panic claws at my chest, but I shove it down. “You have to know of a way to reverse it.”
“There is,” the fae replies. “If Bronywyn doesn’t completely sell her soul, we can lessen the damage of the dark magic. But only if she doesn’t kill an innocent. Once that happens, there’s nothing I can do.”
“She’ll never do that.”
“She wants to use the power to kill Lucy,” Delaney says, softly.
And suddenly, Bronywyn’s evasion makes sense. Despite her sometimes less than appealing temperament, Bronywyn is one of the kindest people I’ve met in my longer than typical life. For those she cares for, she’ll sacrifice anything. And if she believes that the only way to defeat Lucy is with dark magic, that’s exactly what she will do. “Then we do it after that. Lucy is no innocent.”
“Vampire, that’s not how black magic works.” Fearghas shakes his head. “It corrupts endlessly, seeping in and tainting the soul. Supernaturals have long believed you have to barter your soul in order to obtain it, but the truth is much simpler. There is no barter, no deal with an outside source. To gain it, you make a choice. Much like a human makes a choice to be evil, to kill innocents, so does the witch. And as soon as they do, their soul turns black, removing any and all conscious effort to do the right thing.”
It corrupts.Panic digs its icy claws into my heart as I try to imagine a life without the Bronywyn I know. My thoughts barely drift to the bond, to what will happen if she doesn’t survive, because the reality of it is far too depressing to bear. “Then we find her, and we convince her to let us reverse it.”
“The reversal is not easy,” Fearghas warns. “It’s incredibly difficult magic—damn near impossible, really. And as much as I hate to admit it, we’re going to need another fae’s help. Something that will not be simple, given my inability to travel back to Faerie.”
Another fae? How the fuck did he make it sound like a possibility when, in reality, it’s not? One fae in Billings is lucky enough. But two? And, as he said, it’s not even as though he can dematerialize to Faerie and bring back another of his kind since he lost that ability, ripping Cole from the veil.
“I know someone,” Delaney interrupts my thoughts, a wave of hope in an otherwise darkening reality.
“You been cheating on me, H.W.?” Fearghas questions.
Delaney shakes her head. “Of course not. Bestiny and I crossed paths with one when we were saving Drex from that auction. If I can find him again, we stand a chance at convincing him to help.”
“And where do you propose we start looking for him?” I ask her. “They move after each auction.”
“Bestiny knows someone,” she tells me. “It’s how we found the first one.”
“Then, I guess we’re going shopping.” Fearghas claps his hands together.
“I’m going to try to track down Bronywyn.” It’s all I can do to keep myself together when I want to lose my fucking mind in panic. If she— I turn to Delaney. “Please—”
Delaney reaches forward and grips my hands. Her touch is soft, comforting, because I know she won’t let anything happen to Bronywyn, either. If ever there was anyone else who cared for the witch, it’s the person in front of me. “I will not lose her, either,” she promises. “Find her; keep her from doing anything even more stupid, and I’ll handle getting us another fae.”
As soon as she releases me, I’m gone. I don’t go for my car, though. A blur of movement, I race across Billings toward Bronywyn’s house. I will find her. Even if I have to traipse across the fucking state to do so.
Lights are nothing but blurs as I pass by, and I know if any human were to look out their window, they’d see nothing but a rustling of tree limbs or a shift in lighting. Not that it matters right now; I could out the entire supernatural race, and I wouldn’t give two shits. Not when Bronywyn’s soul is on the line.
I’m nearly to her house when something shoots through my chest. A jolt. Electricity that knocks me to my knees. Breathing heavily, I crumple to the crushed granite of her drive, hands braced beneath me. The stones bite into my knees, my hands, but it’s nothing compared to the agony eating away at my chest.
I know it’s her.
She’s scared.
Ever since that morning, twenty-one years ago, when she fed me her blood to sever the bond with my dead mate, I’ve been able to sense her. It’s typically faint, like a gentle tugging of strings. But this? This is an all-out fucking assault on every one of my senses.
The pain fades. Steadily recessing like the tides, and I take in a deep breath before standing. It aches like a pulled muscle, but I manage to move again, closing the distance between me and Bronywyn’s house in a matter of seconds, thanks to the speed bestowed on me by my predatory nature.
“Bronywyn!” I call out, rushing inside.
No one answers.
I race up the stairs, taking them two at a time until I reach her bedroom. Not bothering to knock, I throw open the door and hurry inside. Her scent fills my lungs, and I suck in a breath, hoping the lavender in the air will ease my racing heart.
But all her absence does is highlight what Delaney told me.
“What are you doing here?”