When everyone is in position, Eve starts talking. It’s a tongue I don’t understand. Next to me, Mack whispers, “Mageia,” but he doesn’t interpret.
She waves her arms at the sky, then waves Ragnor forward. He lowers himself toward the coffin and heaves off its lid. My breath catches in my throat, but as he leans down over it—like he’s about to lift out a delicate porcelain doll—a howl ripples the air.
Sam has shifted. He lurches for Ragnor, clamps his teeth on his forearm, and clamps down. Ragnor yells and tries to throw him off, but Sam’s jaw is like a vice. Chaos breaks out. Other wolves shift and lunge for Sam. Ragnor shifts too, but Sam keeps hold of him.
“Now,” Mack whispers. Peeling my eyes away from Sam, I join hands with him. We form a circle and start to chant.
Beyond the barrier, all I hear is teeth and growls and yelps. They remind me ofSpine. The stage. Sam’s hypnotic dance. Anger billows inside me. It rushes up my spine like lava from a volcano and explodes. I roar and tip my head back.
Mack lets go of my hand. I vaguely sense that I burned him, but it’s as if I’m not really here. I’m not Nova. I am fire, and heat, and fury.
As the barrier drops, the earth starts to shake, and I have no idea if I’m causing it or if it was Eve.
The earth rumbles beneath my feet. Vibrations spike up through my soles. There’s a cracking sound, then another, and then the ground splits open.
Luther pulls me to the side, throwing his body on top of mine. Mack and Tanner are opposite us, stumbling back as the crack widens and thick black smoke billows up from it. Next to me, Kole splays his fingers and directs his palms toward the ground as he tries to sew it back together with the roots underneath. The crack starts to close, but then he’s flung backward, and it continues to grow.
Luther and I haul Kole to his feet. Mack meets my eyes and shouts, “This way, run!” hurtling toward The Hollow.
Opposite the fountain, Ragnor’s wolves are baying at the moon. Sam is on the ground, being pinned down by three of Ragnor’s henchmen. Eve stretches her arms wide as lightning almost splits the sky open. She is chanting at the top of her voice. Without looking at us, she sweeps her hand in our direction and—just like the last time she captured me—I’m helpless.
In unison, we are thrown to our knees. I struggle against the restraints but it’s futile.
“Fuck!” Luther yells. “Fuck!”
“It’s no use,” Kole growls. “She’s too strong.”
I try to lock eyes on Sam again. He’s human now, still on the ground with wolves at his sides. Next to him, Nico stares wide eyed as Ragnor sinks down next to the coffin and lifts a body into his arms.
“Oh my god,” I whisper, dread and revulsion crawling over my skin. “That’s Sam’s mother.”
Ragnor is holding a skeleton dressed in a white lace dress. With nothing but bone and rotting flesh to fill it out, the dress hangs loose. Ragnor strokes the corpse’s mangled hair.
I clench my lips together as vomit pools in my belly.
Sam can’t look. His eyes are screwed shut and he has turned his face toward Nico. As if he’s trying to offer words of comfort, Nico shoves one of the wolves aside and starts whispering to Sam.
If Ragnor cares why Sam attacked him or what’s happening between him and Nico, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t even seem to register that I’m here. All he can do is stare at the corpse bride in his arms.
When Ragnor is standing up right, Eve turns her back on us and faces the altar. It starts to rain. The sky rumbles as heavy, stinging stripes of water batter the ground and our faces. Clouds obscure the moon. It is almost pitch dark. Then the air starts to quiver. At first, I think I’m seeing lightning again. Except it comes from nowhere. Suspended in mid-air, it crackles and sparks, then grows wider. As if the air directly above the altar is being torn in two, a hole appears. It has jagged edges and curls in on itself.
Fear and nausea pound in my chest; Eve is quite literally ripping open another dimension. Darkness quivers behind the hole. Pure darkness, unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
A voice fills the air. A voice with no form. As it speaks, terror grips my soul. “Do you have what I need?” it asks.
Ragnor steps forward, still holding his decaying bride. “I do, My King.”
“Give it to me.”
“If I give you the name of The Phoenix, you will bring back my wife?”
“That was our pact,” the voice replies.
Without hesitation, Ragnor answers, “I can do better than a name, My King.” He turns and looks at us over his shoulder. A smirk stretches across his face. Perhaps he knew all along. Perhaps he knew Sam was here to betray him, and he let it happen because he knew it would lead to this.
“She is here, The Phoenix. And she brought her fated mates with her.” Ragnor spits his words as if they’re acid on his tongue.
“Very well,” the voice booms.