“I am not yours,” Conal gritted. “I was never yours.”
Siobhan bolted to her feet, hands clenched to fists. “You were!” she shrieked. From the corner of one eye, Conal saw her courtiers flinch and shift, though he didn’t move. “You loved me!”
Liam’s mental voice murmured, I heard she was crazy, but it’s worse than I thought.
Suggestions? Conal asked.
Blow her head off. The minute she’s dead, yell for Maeve.
Oh, what a wonderful idea! Essus retorted, acid in his mental voice. Feeding a demigoddess to a death god is sure to end in happiness and joy -- for the death god. The rest of us, not so much.
If we don’t do something, we’re all dead, Liam shot back. And Helena will suffer the most.
The thought made Conal’s gut twist as he glanced at Olwydd’s smug, ugly face. The grin that said he remembered that night more than three decades ago. And looked forward to doing it again…
Conal’s gaze flicked to Helena’s. Her face looked darker than normal, as if she could barely breathe, but her lips shaped the word No. As if she knew what he was thinking. Yeah, well, I’m not leaving you in that bastard’s hands. I know what that’s like.
Siobhan came down the stairs in a rush. Conal suppressed the instinct to back away as she strode closer. Until she was barely a yard away, staring up into his face. “I think you’re lying. I think the bitch and her pheromones have you wrapped around her little claw. Let’s find out whether the tie between you is love or lust.” Her eyes narrowed to thin, cruel slits. “Put that gun in your mouth and pull the trigger.” She grinned like a death’s head. “Or Olwydd will crush her skull.”
* * *
Conal’s eyes flicked to meet Helena’s and widened with the same anguish she felt. He’ll do it. And looking into his desperate violet stare, she realized it wasn’t just his standard knee-jerk heroism. Oh, God, he loves me.
Siobhan saw it too. Her hand flashed out so fast, Conal had no time to dodge. Her open palm slammed into his jaw and knocked him on his ass. “It’s lust! Nothing but lust!” Siobhan shrieked down at him. “And even if it isn’t, it’s not going to matter!”
Helena, her head shrieking in agony from the murderous pressure of Olwydd’s fingers, barely able to breathe, realized she had one choice. Maeve’s final, most lethal gift, though Christ, it was risky. But I can’t just sit here and watch him die.
Conal’s gaze met hers, violet eyes wide with desperation. “Do it!” Siobhan shrieked. “Now!” He didn’t look away from Helena’s face, staring into her eyes. Letting her see the love in them.
Siobhan saw it too. Maddened, she screamed, “Olwydd, kill that little cunt!”
“Wait!” Conal roared and rolled onto his knees, throwing up a hand. “Swear to me you will release her, and I’ll do it! Swear on your power!”
Siobhan’s brows rose as she took a step back, frowning down at him. “You’d do it?”
Violet eyes met hers, hard and level. “Yes.”
The demigoddess laughed. “You bluff. But yes, if you pull the trigger, honor will be satisfied.” She smirked. “And both of you will be punished, you for your betrayal, her for daring to trespass on my property.”
“Swear it!” Conal snapped. “Take a geas!”
She stared down at him for a long moment, silent. Assessing. “By my power,” Siobhan said at last. “I do take geas I will not harm the bitch if you end your life with her gun.”
Oh, God, Helena thought in despair. I have to do it. If I don’t, we’re all dead.
“Well,” the troll whispered in her ear. His breath stank. “It seems you and I will have very little time together to enjoy ourselves after all.” He cupped her breast in his free hand, squeezing so hard she had to fight to concentrate through the pain. The words had to be exact in every syllable. Her pulse pounded furiously in her ears as she fought to suck in a breath past his choking fingers. She wheezed out the phrase…
And even she could barely hear the words. She might as well not have spoken at all. Conal had to hear her for this to work. Jesus, we’re lost. All this, and he’s dead.
Olwydd tilted his head as if he, at least, had heard something. “What was that, mongrel?”
Conal lifted the Desert Eagle and put Liam’s muzzle in his mouth.
Fuck! Helena twisted on the troll’s lap and went for Olwydd’s eyes with both hands, but he jerked his head out of reach, laughing as his fingers clamped tighter. The hinge of her jaw screamed agony. She wheezed, fighting to draw in a breath past the thumb digging into her windpipe.
Conal’s violet eyes met hers in savage determination. No! God, no, Conal! No! He pulled the trigger as she wheezed a breathless scream. In the instant his finger tightened, the big pistol seemed to melt and reform. When the gun went off, its muzzle was no longer in Conal’s mouth. It was pointed at Helena and the troll.
The sound as it fired was less a bang than a howl, like a Stinger missile going off. A ball of flame slammed into the nullifying shield around Helena and Olwydd. The spell exploded in blinding flash of blue light -- and vanished.
Magic crashed over Helena like a tsunami, backed by all the power of the Mageverse. Liam, you tricky fucker! She dragged the energy in, let it blaze white-hot through bone and muscle.
Olwydd yelled in shock as her shift went off in his face, leaving him with a lapful of fur, fangs and rage. Helen tore free of his grip, twisted in his arms, sank her claws into his face, and ripped. He howled in agony, trying to knock her hand away. Please, God, let us survive this! Helena used her healed vocal cords to roar the trigger phrase Maeve had taught her five years before.
* * *
Told you it would work! Liam crowed in Conal’s mind as Helena ripped into Olwydd like a pissed-off tiger.
We need to get her and gate…
But before he could complete the thought, she screamed… something. He didn’t recognize the language at all, yet Liam’s mind translated the ancient words in an explosion of lethal comprehension. “Death God, rider of the demon winds, thou art free of thy geas!”
A deep male voice thought, Oh, hell.
It felt like a nuclear blast going off inside Conal’s head, raw energy blazing along every nerve, every synapse in his brain, every cell in his body, searing his very consciousness. It was followed a heartbeat later by a whirlwind of images, a bedlam of voices screaming in anguish and agony and terror, ripping into his mind, swamping him, spinning him through centuries as if he’d plunged over Niagara Falls without benefit of a barrel. What’s happening? Dying, I’m dying, it’s killing me…
Light. Fire. Thousands of years of memories -- of justice delivered, of craving for revenge, of hate, of hunger and madness, until he thought it was going to sear his consciousness away…
No. A great thundering voice he almost recognized. Silence fell so abruptly, his skull seemed to ring like a bell. Conal lay on his back, staring up at the throne room’s ceiling. As if from a vast distance, he heard Helena roaring, the troll screaming, male voices crying out…
Power flooded him, an intoxicating rush of energy he recognized as Olwydd’s life force, even more intense than Birk’s. Savage delight shot through him as he drank that magic down. There, you motherfucker.