He realized then that Yasmina had rolled the gem of the hoard toward Hadrian. It glinted gold as it rolled, casting a red glow, until it disappeared beneath Hadrian’s chest.
“You can’t do this!” Maeve protested, shoving at Hadrian’s side without effect.
She pointed at Kade but he took a step back, his gaze clouded with doubts as if he was awakening from a dream. She summoned the magick again, gathering the red cloud to her and pointed at Hadrian.
He shifted shape in a shimmer of blue, taking his human form. He stood before her then, the amber sphere cradled in his hands. Maeve tried to rip it free from his grip but failed. Alasdair could hear Hadrian singing to the orb in old-speak, his chant sending a resonance through the ground. The sphere was soon covered with white frost, so that the spider and the wasp snared within it couldn’t be discerned. It cast a white glow instead of a red one and Maeve screamed in frustration.
Meanwhile, Maeve’s spell slipped. She was gathering magick in the hope of foiling Hadrian. As they were released, the Fae roused themselves to attack. They stopped to scratch their skin and their scalps, that purple stain spreading across their skins with remarkable speed.
There was an earthshattering crack as the gem of the hoard split into two halves. Maeve cried out in anguish, even as they crumbled into chunks of ice and melted away. Alasdair saw the wasp take flight, freed from the tomb of resin, carrying the spider in its grasp. The wasp flew high, illuminated by a faint red glow.
Alasdair had no time to think about that marvel, because dust began to fall on all sides. It was a storm of shimmering iridescent snowflakes, dark as ash on one side and glimmering a million colors on the other. The dust fell from above them, revealing that the sky was only an illusion. He felt as if he was on the set of a play and the curtains were being drawn back, the backdrops folded up, the set being pushed aside and destroyed. The borders and boundaries, the very fabric of Fae and its inhabitants, were disintegrating all around him.
The Fae court was fading. There was no other way to describe it. The brilliant red he was accustomed to seeing on the Fae was now burgundy, if not brown. The silver that shone in their hair and on their wings was now as dull as tree bark aged by the wind and weather to grey. Their skin was marked by purple stains, and they seemed misshapen to him, as they hadn’t before. They reminded him more vehemently of the forest than of the starlight he had previously thought they favored.
They were no longer beautiful and bewitching.
Maeve’s throne seemed to be made of old trees now, instead of carved silver as it previously had appeared. Her lipstick was no longer brilliant red, but was the deep brown of chestnuts. Her hair was no longer black, but had become dark brown, streaked with a thousand shades of lighter brown and even gold. Her skin had become more golden and Alasdair thought she looked like the old woman of fairy tales, the one who lived in the woods with her familiar and mixed potions for those bold enough to visit her hut. Her hand, braced on the arm of her throne, was speckled and tanned.
Small red lights flew in and around everyone, like fireflies gathering—but these burned red, little spheres of glowing magick. They multiplied with every passing moment, as if the shredding of the realm created more of them—or freed them once again. Alasdair closed his eyes against the relentless shower of shimmering particles and shook his head.
When he looked again, he saw that the Fae themselves were changing. That purple stain was changing them, not just the color of their skin. They shrank and shifted, changing to birds and bugs and beetles. Each one was briefly touched with purple, which abruptly faded into the browns and duns of the forest floor. Instead of singing and making music, they squeaked and fluttered and slithered. As the dust fell on all sides, the transformed Fae darted into the shadows of the forest that was revealed to be all around them.
Meanwhile, the wasp flew higher and higher, and as it progressed, all those red fireflies of magick gathered behind it. It was a current of crimson dots, an army of tiny specks streaming upward. It seemed that a fiery comet flew out of the realm of Fae, soaring into the sky until it punched through the dissolving veil to the mortal world above and beyond.
The sky cracked and the dust fell with greater intensity. The ground was dissolving, too, the Fae court itself crumbling on all sides. Maeve’s cry turned to a hoarse croak as she became a lizard. She jumped and snapped after the spiraling red comet as if she would eat it, but there was no chance of that.
Alasdair knew then that the magick was abandoning Maeve and returning to Regalia, and that Fae was no longer a separate realm from the world of mortals. The barrier between the worlds was being shredded and only the magick specific to the Earth remained. The dust fell in enormous quantities, more than enough to suffocate them if they didn’t escape.
And as the tide of magick flowed upward, those snared in Maeve’s last spell were released.
Hadrian snatched up Rania.
“I can’t manifest elsewhere anymore,” she said. She held out her wrist, showing that there was a burn mark where the red string of Maeve’s curse had been.
Hadrian laughed and swung her around. “Then we’ll fly!” he said, taking flight to follow the red comet. “We’re free!”
“My brothers!” she protested.
“We set them free,” Balthasar said, appearing out of the dust. “Let’s get out of here!”
It was chaos in what had been the Fae court. Alasdair lost track of most of their company as they made an exodus to their own world. The Pyr from New York had snatched up wolf mates and Others, carrying everyone back toward the realm they knew best. Wolf mates hung on to dragon claws and tails, and great leathery wings beat against the air. Theo carried Mel, while Kristofer carried Bree and Rhys had Lila. Balthasar shifted shape and snatched up Murray, all of them creating a convoy to the mortal realm. The dust fell endlessly on all sides and Alasdair couldn’t catch a glimpse of Yasmina at all. In her smoke form, she could be lost!
“But Yasmina!” he protested. “We can’t leave her behind.”
“You’re not,” murmured the djinn, her voice soft. “I’m in your ear.” She laughed a little. “It’s much more comfortable than a bottle.”
“You’re not lost,” he said in relief, even as he took flight after Rania and Hadrian.
“Let me see what I can do about helping your mind heal while you get us out of here,” she said with a confidence that made him smile. “That’s only fair. Don’t worry: I’m tough to lose, Alasdair MacEwan.”
He cupped his claw over his ear, just to be sure.
Fifteen
Nick Shea awakened in the middle of the night without knowing why. He was getting a bit bored with their unexpected family vacation on Bardsey Island, but at least Isabelle was there. There was something fascinating about Rafferty’s adopted daughter. She wasn’t like any of the girls Nick knew at school. Was it because of her accent? He thought there was something more. She got this look sometimes, as if she knew something special, a secret or a mystery. Nick couldn’t figure it out.
Maybe when he finally got his dragon shifter powers, the truth would be clear. He couldn’t wait for that.
The house was quiet and there was no sound of traffic at all. No fire engines ever. No internet connection or cellphone service. It was like they’d gone off the end of the world. Nick wondered again when they’d be going home to Minneapolis.