Feversong

He inclined his head, “Fair enough. And once you realize I am not lying, and you have completed the transfer of the True Magic to me, I will still accept you as my consort, MacKayla. You, alone, I have given far more truths than lies. You alone speak to the finest of all that I am.”

Deep in his chest, Barrons began to rattle again.

MAC

I left Barrons, Ryodan, and Cruce drawing up the Compact with my daddy, after having established the concessions I felt mandatory. Contracts aren’t my strong suit. Fortunately, they are Ryodan’s. As soon as it was completed, Barrons would text me and we’d meet at the bookstore, where Cruce would teach me how to use the queen’s power and I would restore his wings.

My sister, independent woman that she was, had left the house shortly after I had, heading to Trinity College to inspect the music box I’d told her about. I was on my way there to meet up with her, anxious to know if she could hear the same song coming from it that I did.

Jada had remained at Chester’s with Christian, to assist in his efforts, employing the same druid arts he’d used to remove the soil from my sister’s grave to eradicate the earth from beneath the black holes. If he was successful—he had concerns about not being able to keep it from being sucked straight up into the hole once he began breaking it apart—he would sift to Scotland and bring back all the Keltar, dispatching them to the largest spheres to get to work.

Still, we were only buying time. According to Jada, now that the ergospheres were manifesting, the holes would have an increasingly destabilizing effect on the environment and grow even faster.

Although I’d told Cruce that my race could be moved to another world and survive, I felt an undeniable (and rather confusing to a sidhe-seer) obligation to save the Tuatha De Danann from extinction. I wondered why they would cease to exist if the Earth did, then recalled the queen saying it was because she’d bound the seat of their power to our planet.

A lightbulb went off in my head and I drew up short in the middle of the street, stunned.

If the power was in our planet, then it seemed logical it was this planet I had to tap into in order to make the True Magic work. Was that the missing ingredient?

I closed my eyes, sought the True Magic, and envisioned it shooting tendrils from my feet into the soil, extending taproots, feathering out and expanding.

Oh, God, I could feel the world! I was part of it and it was warm and breathing, bubbling and shifting. Alive!

And so very sick.

Tears stung the backs of my eyes. Earth was dying. This was what the queen had always been able to feel—the fabric of everything, oceans and beaches, mountains and deserts, where it met in harmony, where it was torn and wounded.

It was overwhelming, and tears rolled down my cheeks from the sheer beauty and sorrow of it.

Her assessment had been accurate. We were nearly out of time. The spheres were more than mere holes in the fabric of our world. They were a cancerous presence, changing matter even in areas they didn’t touch, corroding, eroding the very essence of the weft and weave of reality with their terrible song.

I was right. The holes emanated a Song of Unmaking, the same hellish music I’d heard during my brief stay at Chester’s, trickling up through the ventilation shafts from the black hole deep below, invading my mind even as I’d slept.

Chills suffused me and for a moment I felt the terrible song touch me, threatening, as Alina had said, to tear me apart at the seams. I thrust it away, willed a barrier between us. My newfound ability to feel this world was dangerous. I was connected to all, even the poisoned parts. I had to protect myself.

I pictured the abbey, the fountain on the front lawn.

When I opened my eyes, I was there, the wind carrying a soft fall of fountain spray into my face.

It was that easy. I finally understood why the Fae were able to influence the climate and plant life. They were each connected to the planet to varying degrees, drawing power from its core, according to the abilities of their caste.

I could sift. I could freaking sift! That was one power I was going to miss when I transferred the True Magic to Cruce.

At the front entrance half a dozen sidhe-seers were clustered around Enyo, talking and taking a brief break.

As I approached, Enyo glanced up and stopped speaking mid-sentence. Her brows drew together in a scowl, her gaze moving from my eyes to my hair and back to my eyes again, and her mouth shaping a silent, What the fuck?

The other sidhe-seers greeted me with equally shocked expressions, their eyes the mirror that told me my transformation was becoming more apparent with each passing hour. I said quickly, “The Faery queen transferred her magic to me so we might save this world. Clear the workers out of the abbey. I think I can rebuild it.”

Enyo’s brows reversed their path and climbed her forehead. “Are you bloody kidding me? Why would the Fae queen—”

I cut her off: “Because she learned who she’d once been and no longer wanted to lead. Enyo, it’s a complicated story and we don’t have time for it. The planet is dying faster than we thought. Get the workers out of the ruins. I need practice and you need the abbey back.”

She studied me a long moment, then shrugged and began to bark orders.

The moment the rubble was unoccupied—I had concerns about potentially putting a wall where a person stood—I tapped into the immense bubbling power beneath my feet. This time I kept my eyes open. Cruce never closed his when he was using Fae magic. I wed the power within me to the soil, sinking deeper than before, and gasped.