Page 116 of The Exorcism of Faeries

And then everything went silent.

“Atta!” he screamed, and he was on his feet, tripping, stumbling through the fallen forest.

He found her body beneath the collapsed hawthorn, still. Too still.

Tears crowded his eyes, his throat, as he fell to the ground next to her, pushing at the hawthorn helplessly. He finally managed to get it off of her, but her chest didn’t move.

That was when he saw the uncorked vial around her neck.

“A stór, no.”

Sonder bent his head over her chest and wept.

Atta

She felt warm rain on her collarbone, frigid air on her cheeks, but she was numb. She could hear someone crying.

Poor soul, she thought.Don’t cry here. There are no tears in the Afterlife.

There are no tears in the Afterlife.

Her eyes flew open and she sucked in a gasping breath.

“Sonder?” she croaked.

But he was crying harder, laughing, hugging her, berating her, squeezing her, moving the hair from her face, then pulling her to his chest again.

“You drank the embalming fluid,” he accused.

“Only a little.”

He laughed through his tears. “Jesus, Atta. What did you do?”

She pulled back to see his face and ran her fingertips over his brow. “Nothing major. Just exorcized myself and closed a portal into another world, once and for all.”

He laughed again and squeezed her so hard she thought her ribs would crack if they weren’t already. “I still might need a hospital,” she managed through his grip.

“Oh god! Of course.” He pulled her back and stood, scooping her up into his arms.

They both sucked in a breath when they saw what had been behind them. Murdoch Manor was nothing but rubble. Stones and twisted iron, smoke and destruction.

Sonder ran, jumping over fallen trees and debris, the broken glass and crushed flora of the atrium, over the broken bones of his parents. They shouted for their friends, Atta still clutched to Sonder’s chest as he manoeuvred the debris.

“Gibbs!” Atta sobbed, seeing him sitting in the rubble that might have once been the kitchen, rubbing at a gash on his head. “How?” she asked the universe. No one should have survived such devastation.

Sonder set her down on a beam and checked on Gibbs. “I’m fine. Find Emmy and Imogen,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Atta heard a groan not far away. “There!” she pointed and Sonder made his way through the rubble, uncovering a piece of the roof to find Emmy there.

“I think my leg is broken,” she complained, “but I’m otherwise okay.”

A scream drew all of their attention to the other side of the destruction, Gibbs and Sonder both stumbling their way over. Atta could just make out Imogen’s blonde head and a manicured hand sticking out of the rubble like a zombie escaping its grave.

“Help! I’ve been crushed! I’m dead! I’ve been abducted!”

“Christ,” Sonder muttered sarcastically when he pulled her free and she was fine, nary a scratch on her.

Atta laughed, full and true, tears streaming down her face. They’d done it. It was over.

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