“Hildi, I came to apologize. I am so, so sorry about what happened yesterday.” I reach for her hands and I’m happy when she doesn’t pull away and punch me. “I’m working on this. Figuring out what to do—how to save these people. People like Andi.”
“I’m not sure what you can do. It’s spreading rapidly. Half the businesses in our neighborhood are closed—either out of fear or actual sickness. I think it’s worse than what the news is reporting.”
The sinking feeling I’ve had since speaking with Christensen churns in my belly. What it will take to end the spread of the Darkness is possibly more than I can give. It’s a sacrifice. One after the other. It took one to get it rolling: Xavier, and it will most likely take more than one to get it to stop.
And if I go…Anita goes. We’ll have to get to the Otherside together. There I can free my guardians, if they’re even still alive, and we’ll kill the Morrigan. Hildi watches me closely. “What are you thinking about?”
“How to stop this. Anita says she knows how, but she wants to return to the Morrigan’s side. I’m going to have to take her.” I tell her Christensen’s theory about reuniting the three sides of the Queen to fully kill her.
The Valkyrie shakes her head. “No. There has to be another way.”
“Splitting her up only gave us a little time.” I glance at Andi, who takes a long, shuddering breath. “A slow spreading death instead of quick and total annihilation.”
“What if you go and it’s worse? What if she’s too powerful to stop?”
“There’s no good answer here. No good solution. People are dying—people have died. I can’t let fear hold me back from at least trying to stop her and find a cure.”
Hildi sits on the bed next to her partner and takes her hand. There’s no doubt that the look in her eyes, directed at me, is nothing but pure pity. “I don’t wish the burdens you carry on anyone, Morgan. You’ll have to make the decision.”
“I feel like it’s already been made. Do I even have a choice?”
“May the gods be with you.” She stands and gives me a hug. “But if you succeed, bring me back the cure.”
I squeeze her tight. “I will.”
Chapter 11
Dylan
After hours of absolute frustration, tedious work, and three shots of whiskey, I’m able to download and print off Sam’s photos. There’s little doubt the Guardian documented his final moments in this realm so we would find them. There are dozens of shot with no organization, just a continuous shot of the grisly, dark scene.
My brothers didn’t even have the chance to fight. The Morrigan slipped in from an invisible portal, one that simply merged our worlds together. I stare at the photo—a vision?—of Clinton, bound and beaten. I recognize the hard stone floor and the chains.
“Oh my god. What…what is that? Where is it?”
I spin and find Morgan in the doorway of the dining room. I’ve spread the photos across the long table. My heart pounds--I didn’t want her to see them, but then again, it’s her fight too. The truth will help us find them.
She snatches the photo from my hand. I pretend not to see the tears in her wide, dark eyes and reach for the final, erratic shots, stashing them in a pile. Her hand clamps down on my wrist. “Don’t. I want to see them.”
I hand them to her, each worse than the last. Whip marks, lashes, and bruises. Blood pooling on the cold, stone floor. “I don’t think Sam saw them before he was taken or even had a clue what was coming.”
“Does that make it better?” Her voice is hard.
“I’m just trying to piece it together.”
“They walked into a slaughter. So the Morrigan—or at least some manifestation—was able to sneak through a completely invisible entrance and ambush them.”
I point to one of the photos with the black, coiled tentacles slipping from one world to the next. “They’re in the castle dungeons.”
“How do you know?”
I roll up my sleeves and point to the scarred tissue around my wrist, then cut my eyes to a photo of Damien chained with his arms extended over his head. Iron manacles wrap around his wrists. “It’s not the first time the Queen has taken a guardian prisoner.”
She frowns and touches the marks on my wrists. “You? When?”
I look down at our hands. “When you opened the gate before.”
“When my parents died.”