Evernight (Darkest London 5)

“William?” she whispered. Snarling, he reared back, and the light of the moon shone down through the glass ceiling and upon his fac.

Platinum. Razor sharp fangs extended from his open mouth. And then he simply sagged in on himself. The platinum faded away as if on a breath. For a moment, neither of them spoke, until he lifted his head and looked at her with demon black eyes. A sob of relief broke from her. “Are you well?” “I’ve had better nights.” He glanced over at Mab’s mortal remains and then back to Holly. His firm lips twitched, but his eyes remained tired and wary. “Destroying the fae queen will likely bring wrath upon your head.” “I did not destroy her. I sent her back to her world. She’ll have to find another way to return here, and make another body.” The thought of Mab returning made Holly shudder. But Will was safe and whol.

And so was sh.

Slowly he stood, extending a hand to help her up. Around them, the station filled up with people once more, all of them bustling about as if they’d always been ther.

Shocked voices broke out as people took in the skinned steam engin.

Ignoring them all, Will only had eyes for her, his expression almost stern. “My brave, clever love.” He tugged her into his arms and held her tight. For a moment they simply breathed, his lips against her hair, her nose burrowed in the warm crook of his neck. Her palm flattened against his chest where his mechanical heart once again pumped away. A wave of despair hit her. “What shall we do about you?” Though she was once again in balance, he was not. “Petal, my capitulation to Mab was never about saving myself. It was about saving you.” Will’s hand came to rest over hers. “Watch.” Before her eyes, his hand went pure platinum and then back again to pale flesh. Holly raised her head. “What does it mean?” Though fatigue lined his face, his smile was cheeky. “Do you know, I’ve been sitting around that drafty old house pretending to be a marquis and having nothing to do.” “William,” she threatened. He laughed, a light, happy sound. “I’m getting there, lov.

I must have been thinking of you in some capacity, for I found myself reading scientific tomes. And there was this volume by that chap Darwin.” “You read Darwin?” Really, the thought of Will Thorne sitting quietly reading like a studious scholar was shock enough. “Mmm.” Wrapping an arm about her shoulders, he tucked her close and walked them away from Mab’s ashes. “And he had this interesting theory on evolution.” “I’ve read it.” “Always interrupting.” Will shook his head, grinning wid.

“It occurs to me just now that perhaps I haven’t been dying but evolving. A true marriage of science and natur.

Why fight this new step? When fighting it has only brought me pain.” Holly stopped short. “That is your great epiphany? William Thorne, you have no proof—” He kissed her, slow and leisurely. When she melted into him, he pulled back. “I’ve gone entirely metal many times now and still have my sanity. In truth, I’ve had control over myself since I destroyed the Nex elders. And the change to metal stopped hurting just after the Alamut let me go.” He shrugged. “That’s good enough for now.” Though she could voice various counter-theories and objections, Holly found herself smiling. “I missed you.” “Well I didn’t, couldn’t, you see,” he teased, laughing when she poked his ribs. Then he sobered. “And I was in hell.” He kissed her once mor.

Softly. “I love you, Holly.” “I love you, William.” Gently, she unwound his cravat and found her star-shaped mark upon his neck. She kissed the spot with possessive pride and utter contentment. And he returned the favor, nuzzling the little thorn upon her neck before tucking her once more against his side and guiding her down the platform. “Where are we going?” Holly asked as they walked out of the station and into the clear night. His grip on her tightened. “Home, petal min. We’re going home.”

Epilogue

Seven months earlier, London Once upon a time, superstitious humans would bury those who died by their own hand at the crossroads. Six feet under with a spike through their hearts so that the dead would not ris.

The dead, humans realized on some level, did not always stay dead. Sometimes, they changed into immortals. And while humans thought of a crossroad as a simple intersection, it was something far more powerful. A real crossroad was, in actuality, a gateway to other worlds. Victoria Station, London’s massive homage to locomotive transport, was once such a crossroad. And while the old crossroad was buried under brick and mortar, glass and steel, it still operated as a gateway. As Adam strolled down a train platform, hands tucked into the pockets of his fine wool trousers that went with his fine English suit, he could not ignore that his freedom had come to an end. He had tried to break his curse, and he had failed. Time to pay the piper, as it wer.

Around him travelers went about their business, thinking Adam nothing more than an ordinary gentleman waiting for the train. He waited for something far wors.

And far too soon a sickly, yellow-green fog began to roll in, snaking along the track gullies and up onto the platform. No one took notic.

London was often plagued by “pea soup” fog. Little did the humans know that this certain color fog heralded evil. Inside his pockets, Adam’s fists tightened against the urge to smash something. He focused on a distant spot, where a woman was gliding along, her green skirts swishing through the fog. The closer she came, the harder his heart beat. There would be pain, humiliation. An eternity of it. He did not want to be afraid; he loathed the idea. But he was. The woman came into focus, her smile glinting with a sly bit of fang, her eyes a dark, smoky purpl.

He wanted to retch. “I thought you might run,” she said as she stopped before him. The scent of earth and green things surrounded him. Since it was her scent, it turned his stomach. “I never run.” He’d fight, but that was different. She smiled, and the sweet visage she wore dropped for a mere instant, showing him her true form, the green tint of her skin, the black lips, and pointed teeth. Fa.

Not beautiful and gentle, but ugly and cruel. “I’ve waited a long time for this, Cù-Sìth.” It had been a long time since anyone had called him Cù-Sìth, the dark hound, harbinger of death. Knowing she’d revel in it, Adam refrained from flinching at the moniker. “I’m certain you have, Queen Mab,” Adam said as though he were without car.

Her simper fell. “Aodh MacNiall of Moray, ye have failed to bond with your soul’s true mate.” “True.” Quite the burn to discover that his other half found him repugnant. And now he’d never know how it felt to be complet.

He’d never know peac.

Mab licked her lips, a greedy flick of her tongu.

“Thus your soul is in forfeit. To me.”