Page 36 of Cathmoir's Sons

“Can the Holly King be killed that way?” Lords asks.

“Law’ll give it the old college try,” Luca says. “And if that doesn’t work, Law will eat the rest of him. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Lords pinches his temples. “Blessed Mother, this is giving me a migraine. And I know a demon Law should befriend. Their methods are similar.”

“If that’s Baron Ash, I’d really like an introduction,” Luca says.

Lords looks up at him sharply. “The extent of your knowledge is alarming. How do you know that name?”

“I warned you about his research skills,” I say.

“You did,” Lords admits. “Also, no, I’m not introducing you to alord of Hell. There’s a minimum age requirement and you haven’t reached it.”

Luca snorts. “Which is?”

“Two hundred,” Lords retorts. “None of us should be involved with demon lords. It’s extremely hazardous to the health.”

“See? This is going to be an issue,” Luca says. “You keep treating us like kids. And I understand your perspective. You were a Bevington crow. You had to wipe a lot of students’ noses. Law and I have been fighting a war you learned about a few weeks ago forour entire lives. Between us, we havethousandsof kills. We’re mated to a queen of Faery. We’re not kids. We’re Cait. Keep treating us like children and Law will probably eat you before he eats the Holly King.”

Lords folds his lips together. When he releases them, he laughs softly. “Forgive me, Luca. You’re right. I’ll arrange an introduction. And I’ll make time to spend with your brother. If nothing else, it will be entertaining.”

Chapter 11

Letters from the Mists

KELLAN

Jane’s townhouse smells of snakes and sadness when I return from campus.

I let myself in and shuck off my heels and coat quietly. It’s been an odd day. Getting ready to teach my first solo course at my alma mater. Facing down that firing squad. Admitting my relationship with Rhodes to Professor Dittman. Reading through the kudos and criticism from my peers in response to the papers we published before Yule.

It’s been a rollercoaster of a day.

I’m unsettled: hurt and nervous and hopeful. I need strong arms around me. I need Whitey’s purr to soothe me. I need Rhodes’ easy, uncritical caring. I need someone to listen to me as I lay down my worries for a few hours.

Instead, I’m alone. And I need to be strong. Tomorrow, Carrie’s memorial starts. If today was odd, tomorrow will be even odder. And Jane will need me through every minute of it.

Rach and Teddy and their families are here in Bevvy, probably at the ski lodge. Rachel sent me a text to ask if Jane and I want company tonight. I’ve said I’ll check with her but I doubtshe’ll agree. She’s become more and more withdrawn as we’ve gotten closer to the memorial.

In the townhouse’s stillness, I hear a small sniff.

I rush through to the lounge in the back. The air perfumes with woodsmoke and fills with a soft crackle and pop from the fireplace. Jane’s sitting on the couch, looking into the fire. The aether around her shimmers with grief, a long, low, wailing cry like a wolf’s howl or a loon’s call. This is the worst it’s been since I found her right after Carrie’s death.

Rucking up my stupid skirt, I climb over the couch and sink down next to Jane. I wrap my arm around her shoulders. “Jane, I’m here.”

She wipes her face with one hand and hands me two pieces of parchment with the other.

“We had mail today,” she says, her voice broken. “That was for me. The rest is for you.”

I take the pages from her with a shaking hand.

It’s a letter. Addressed to Jane. Written in Carrie’s precise copperplate.

My dearest Jane, it begins.

When I was born with a hood I couldn’t hide, my family called me cursed. When I got only Air as my Element, my clan called me unworthy.

When I met you, I knew they were wrong and the Mother blessed me above all others. She gave me the cloudsong in my heart; she gave me the foil for my soul. I have cherished every minute we have had together.

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