Page 59 of Crown of Wings and Whispers

I laughed. “Sounds painful, doesn’t it? When Orion came to get me out of limbo, he brought your mother’s maids with him. When they heard me growl, they said it was too late, that I hadlocked. But I think they were lying, trying to freak him out. They yelled at him to get me out of there, and he did, forgetting to take them with him. I assume they got out…”

“So Orion knows what it means to lock. If he finds you again, unlocked, he might know how to take advantage. So…”

We both looked at Hank again.

“So I need to let Hank do his thing.”

“That sums it up nicely.” He winked at me. “Ready?”

Hell no, I wasn’t ready! I knew of a dozen horror movies I could use to explain what would happen, but since he was a Brit, I doubted he’d seen any of them. So I would just have to let him see for himself. And deep down, if he was horrified, it would serve him right for making me do this.

He said I had to trust that there was a purpose to it all. He was asking me to spin another plate.

“Just breathe,” I told myself out loud. “How long can it last, anyway? A few minutes and it will be all over.” Ignoring the wild protests of my terrified heart, I slowly reached toward Hank. Griffon took a big step back. He was ready to light the fireworks and run.

Smart man.

The growling stopped before I even touched the stone. I wrapped my fingers around it and held tight, pinning the gold strands down so they couldn’t move. There was a shushing in my head and a dozen voices began to whisper. I understood none of it, but I knew in my bones what I needed to do.

I put mycloch realtaface down in my right hand, pushing away the excited tendrils of hot gold that would invade my skin if I let them. Then I pressed the underside of the rock against the outside of my left arm, just above my elbow. And I held it there.

The first time I’d brushed my fingers over the stone, those tendrils had come to life immediately and tried to bury themselves in the back of my hand. I could still remember the pain, the terror that it wanted to take over my body. I’d flung it away, ripping out the gold tendrils that had already burrowed their way down to my young, delicate bones, leaving my punctured hand bleeding profusely from five different holes.

They hadn’t healed until I went back for the hissing rock—the holes were gone by the time I got home. My favorite shirt, covered with blood, I buried in the garbage can. My mother never knew.

This time, when the molten gold pushed its way under my skin, there was little pain. I was vaguely aware of Griffon standing nearby, his breathing ragged. But I had no attention to spare for him. I concentrated on standing my ground and not puking while this…this living thing slithered inside me and felt for my bones. And I wondered, when it was finished, if there would be anything left of Lennon Todd…

Now it moved over my skin, spreading, twisting, expanding. One thin finger of gold slithered like a snake toward my shoulder but stopped midway, turned toward my heart, and wound itself into a spiral. When it stopped in the center, the tip shaped itself into a tiny wing.

Another piece, as thick as my finger, branched out vertically and wrapped itself around my arm. When it reconnected with itself, it flattened into an armband. Locked into my bones as it was, I was betting money it would never come off.

While some strands twisted and twirled into decorative details, others pressed on Hank, gripping him tighter and tighter until something broke! Black sand sprayed everywhere, and I turned my face away, to spare my eyes. I looked back just in time to see one of those polished jewels slip beneath my skin.

Hank was gone. The only thing left of him was the gold and The Pleaides stones, and the stones were inside me.

It was too much. I bent and puked into the snow at my feet. In my mind, if I kept at it, puked hard enough and long enough, maybe I could get the invaders out. After the third round, Griffon was beside me, supporting my shoulder with one hand, patting my back with the other.

“Do not touch her!”

The growling voice hadn’t come from me. It wasn’t inside my head. And though the fresh snow absorbed any echo, it was very real. We were not alone.

I cleared my throat and spit so I could look up without puke on my chin. My eyes were watering, so I couldn’t see clearly. Or was it something else that wasn’t clear? No gold robes. So Orion hadn’t found us.

Blinking rapidly, I tried to focus on a blur of blue and green on the road ahead. I thought it was close—it wasn’t. It was huge! And the problem wasn’t with my eyes, it was with…the dragon. It wasn’t…solid.

Griffon had removed his hands but stood close beside me. The snarl on the ghost-beast’s face was for him. “We have no need of you, Son of Fae.”

Thankfully, he didn’t move.

Bile gathered in my mouth and I turned to spit again. A ridge above one of the dragon’s eyes lifted as if it were asking if I was finished.

“Sorry,” I said. I was apologizing to a ghost.

It lowered its head toward me, but I didn’t panic. What could a ghost do? What could anyone do to me that was worse than what Hank had done?

Táimid aontaithe. Táimid ag eitilt. Táimid táimid.

The words rang in my head, and though I didn’t speak the language, Ifeltwhat they meant.We are united. We are flight. We are we.

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