Shatter - Sins of the Sidhe (42 page)

“Perhaps I should apologize for my bad behavior,” she licked her lips again and then stretched her arms up high on his broad tattooed shoulders and scraped her nails hard down his torso as she went down on her knees in front of him. The simple act had Lorcan growling in pleasure and he threw his head back in satisfaction. He grabbed the back of her head and ran his fingers through her hair, ready and eager for her mouth to wrap around his pike.

Devlin couldn’t watch. This was too much. He’d rather die a thousand torturous deaths than live one more second like this.
I love you. Till the end of my days, I love you.
Her voice came as a rushing whisper to him. Startled, he looked up at her. His wife was a terrible beauty. Rowan was on her knees, staring up at Lorcan while his own head still arched back with his eyes closed reveling in her touch.

Rowan knew her fucking place in this world. She’d been blind for far too long. Walls up, secrets kept, promises broken. There was a reason for everything, and she knew the reasons now.
Power
. Being here felt good, it felt right, and now she understood why, it offered her something she’d always wanted:
more
power
. Her decision has been made. She was going to do this.

Rowan broke down the last of her walls, the ones not even Devlin could climb, the ones made of denial, lies, and regrets that were so entwined and fortified they were camouflaged in her mind as excuses, fears and nightmares. Those walls kept the power
in
, not out.

Rowan dropped the last of her barriers like heavy metal doors in her body.
BAM!
The hissing cicada noise that filled her ears was silenced; the screaming and wailing from the other rooms, silenced; the world around her was gone. She breathed in deep and let that tremendous surge of energy course inside her. Lorcan was not the lava that burned and melted everything.

She was.

Rowan was fire. Burning, claiming, scorching, and consuming. She let that heat fill her up, let it sear her lungs, singe her skin and burn her eyes. She was made for this. She looked up at the Sidhe whose hands were still tangled in her hair, so eager for her burning touch. He was infinitesimal compared to her. His magic was parlor tricks. Trivial. He might be powerful, but Rowan was
more
.

She looked around the room, searching, searching, searching for her anchor. Without it, she was going to burst into flames and be left as ash of her own making. Devlin was still struggling demons of his own, but she felt the pull of him on the outskirts of her mind. Thank. God. She clung to that and hoped like hell it was going to be strong enough for what she was about to do.

Rowan felt many emotions, and she embraced them all in that moment, picking the one that felt the strongest.
Rage
. She looked up at Lorcan whose hands were on her head, who was still oblivious to what she really was, who still thought he was a king, and who was still under her spell. She knew her place, and it was not on her motherfucking knees.

Every ounce of hate, resentment, and anger poured out of Rowan in that moment. She welcomed it, burned with it, let it wash over her and through her in tidal waves.

It filled her up. Consumed her.

She used that rage now, let it roll around and burn inside her. Flashes of memories came to her in snaps, and all of them were nothing but tears, wrath, blood, scars, and pain. Lorcan had done it. Done all of it. Rowan saw death and despair and it wasn’t going to be hers. Or Devlin’s. Or Brinley’s, Adam’s or Ava’s. She would be the Death Bringer this night.

Rowan had one shot at this.

Hatred the color of thick, black blood filled her eyes and she could taste the heady scent of bloodlust in the air. Fueled with fury, face twisted in a menacing scowl, Rowan reached up behind her and unsheathed the
Beagalltach
. The blade sang loudly as she swung it around, joyful and bright, ready and thirsty.

It happened in a flash.

The echoes of the blade’s music ringing in the air snapped Lorcan out of his fantasy. Lorcan looked down at Rowan, his fingers still tangled in her hair, confusion in his eyes as she thrust the singing blade into his gut with a blurring speed. The world seemed to stop for a moment and nothing happened for a heartbeat or two… then the dominos fell one by one.

Lorcan fell to his knees, pain blinding him with the blade buried to the hilt in his body. He tried to pull it out, but it was no use, the weapon was embedded too deep and the pain was all too real. Lorcan started screaming, wings spread wide, hands gripping the hilt, and his body was going nowhere but down, down, down.

Rowan stood up and screamed at him. She wanted to hurt him more. Make him suffer slowly and horribly. She was no longer sweet and loving, she was dark and deadly… and feeling greedy. One thrust was not enough to ease the bloodlust that consumed her now. She wanted to tear him to shreds, rip him limb from fucking limb. Splatter his brains on the walls and strangle him with his own entrails. Her mind was screaming a mile a minute of all the punishments and horrendous deeds she wanted to do to the bastard writhing in his feeble attempts to free the blade from his body.

The motherfucker deserved a thousand painful deaths; he had taken things that were not his to take, tried to snatch her best friend and worst of all, that son-of-a-bitch tried to kill the man she loved. Rowan’s mind was a clusterfuck of fury and madness, and she could see nothing but red. She wanted more. More power, more hate, more pain, more vengeance. Her fires of anger and malice were blazing within her now.

Burn, Burn.
Rowan’s emotions rose up and out, spilling into the room they were still in. The blaze at the door to the bedchamber spread wildly around the rest of the room in response to her.

Burn, burn.
Rowan felt the heat rise like her anger and she welcomed the flames with joy. The room was a blazing inferno matching her own heat roaring within.

Burn, burn.
Rowan was going to burn. She was screaming with her blaze. Enticing those flames higher and hotter.

Some of the demons let go of Devlin, scampering away to safety, afraid of the wild flames and the woman’s dark fury. Devlin did not move. He, too, was caught in her heat and under her spell. She looked towards him for one second and then back to the Shadow Lord. She kept screaming her rage.

Rowan watched as the dagger’s killing magic spread like a black plague over Lorcan’s body, slowly turning him to hard glass. It crackled and moved up his struggling arms and tattooed back, down his beautiful face and neck. He let out a scream of terror and betrayal while she screamed back in his face, never breaking her stare.
Rage, rage, she kept screaming her rage
.

Lorcan tried to reach for her, to kill her too, but it was no use. He wasn’t strong enough to fight off the magic in that blade. The Shadow Lord was bested by the queen. His screams were silenced when his lungs seized up and heart stopped beating. Before long, Lorcan was nothing but a kneeling, screaming statue of solid black glass.

Rowan. Kept. Fucking. Screaming. Her. Rage.

She’d gone so deep into her dead zone; she couldn’t climb her way out. The world was blocked out and she was consumed by the fire inside herself. She didn’t move, rooted to the spot in front of the darkness that was on his knees. Rowan thought he looked like a painfully frightening fallen angel. Lorcan’s death was on her hands, and it had not been painful or slow enough for her.

Somewhere, in the darkest depths of her soul, she mourned. She lost a piece of herself this day. A part of her died. Rowan fought the suffocating urge to get more power. It felt so good she couldn’t help but want more. Shaking those evil temptations out of her head, Rowan tried to calm down and not feed the fires anymore. She needed to come back to herself but was struggling to do so.

Quieting down, she felt lost, scared, and alone. Exhaustion was setting in. Rowan needed to find her ground before she lost herself completely. But she couldn’t feel anything. Rowan was oblivious to everything around her, except for the magic that surged through her body, and the heartbeat that swished in her ears.

Her anchor, she needed her anchor.

Rowan steadied herself. Lightheaded and numb, she was completely exhausted. That familiar push and pull came again. It was Devlin. She felt him grasping feebly for her in the back of her mind, and his earth was calling for her to sink into him. She grabbed that lifeline, as weak as it was in that moment, and pulled herself out of her dead zone. It took a lot for Rowan to snap back to herself, but she managed. Strong and stubborn was she.

So caught up in reining herself in, Rowan didn’t notice that the composition of the dark statue was starting to change. The sounds of cracking, snaps and clacks were echoing in the bedchamber. The pops and cracks were getting louder and faster, ringing alarm bells in her head. It was so familiar.
Oh no!
Rowan knew what that was; she recognized it from spending so many nights in her studio. It’s the sound that comes from hot glass being plunged into coldness.

“RUN!” Rowan looked over to Devlin and screamed for him to run. She tried to sprint when she realized what was happening, but her feet didn’t move fast enough. Her mind and body were once again out of sync. “RUN NOW!” she screamed to him again.

Rowan covered her face as Lorcan, the Shadow Lord who had turned to solid black glass, exploded like a bomb. Shards went flying with the force of bullets and shrapnel, spraying the room with razor sharp glass.

Devlin broke free from the remaining demons and held his arm over his face as he tried to run towards Rowan in an attempt to block her from the force of thousands of deadly pieces of glass cutting through the air. But he was too far away and he wasn’t fast enough. The blast hit her full throttle with no mercy.

He ran over to Rowan and stared at what was left of his beautiful wife as she collapsed to the ground. She was covered in glass, some the size of daggers and arrows were stuck in her arms and chest. She’d taken off her armor in an attempt to look more vulnerable and appealing to the Shadow Lord, and it had cost her dearly. She was bleeding everywhere.

Devlin tried to pluck out as many pieces as he could, but some were embedded too deep. She was shaking from the trauma and was going into shock. Rowan could do nothing but stare up at the man she loved. She was scared by the look on his face but not dissuaded.

We did it,
she said silently. Fuck! It hurt like hell to move. Hissing in pain, she tried to keep up her bravado. It was hard to breathe there was so much that hurt.

Devlin didn’t speak. Instead he poured all the love and pride he had into her. He stared at his wife, still looking on the bright side of the dark side, as was her talent, and tried to not crumble under the heartbreak. She was a warrior unlike any other, the love of his life, and she was beyond wounded. How could this have happened? Why did he not realize what it meant when he heard those cracks?

“I couldna stop it,
mo chroí
. I didna realize what was going to happen until it was too late. The cracking… I … I didna ken what was going to happen.” If he had known, he could have gotten to her faster instead of being distracted with the sight before his eyes. She had no armor, no guard, nothing.

Rowan looked at him and tried to breathe through the pain she felt. It came out in short pants because anything more was excruciating. She didn’t want to show her pain though, not when Devlin was giving her so much love.

“We won. Lorcan is gone. That is… a good thing.” Rowan trailed off with her own thoughts for a minute. She’d done something good today. She’d made the world a better place. Her mind clouded over from pain and Devlin pulled her back to him.

“Dinna leave me now lass. I’ve got ye.” By Danu, what can he do? She was a mess; his hands were soaked in her blood that was seeping out of too many wounds. By the Gods, there were too many wounds!

Rowan tried to sit up, but it took a lot more effort than it should, and she gave up the fight. She felt disoriented and hazy. Looking around her, the room seemed so different now. It was quiet and calm. No loud hissing of cicadas, no shrieks and screams, and no more fire. Looking out at the doorway, Rowan saw a blur coming towards her. She reached her hand out to stop it, but it halted immediately in front of her.

Adam bent down, looking like he’d been in a fight with a tree shredder. Flesh was torn from his body, deep cuts marred his beautiful face, and his armor was ripped and broken. Adam looked at Devlin. No words were spoken between them, at least none that Ro could hear.

“Oh! My dear, we need to get you out of here,” Adam said soothingly.

“Ava … is behind … the bed. She’s hurt.” When seeing Adam’s confusion she tried to explain more, but it took a lot of energy from her to do so. “It was never… Brinley. Ava changed herself… to look like her. Lorcan grabbed the wrong one.”

Adam ran over to the lump behind the bed. Ava was breathing and awake, but was out of sorts. Unchaining her body, he realized why. Lorcan had bound her with iron and her Fae-side was weakened from it. She had also been badly beaten. Once freed from her chains, she was able to recover faster. She came over to where Rowan was and gasped at the sight of her friend. Trying to hide the shock from her face, she bent down and looked at Rowan in the eyes with a tender smile.

“Oh Rowan!” Ava had to calm her emotions down before she was able to talk again. “It took a great deal of courage and love to do what you’ve done tonight.”