“Good!” Bran shouted. “More like that, Lachlan. And Emma, try to bind it so I can get in there!”
Gathering all my strength, I threw the magical rope I had woven from the silver sparks around the enormous spider’s body. Mab hissed and screamed and yanked against the binding, trying to break free again. But this time I managed to hold her, though I could feel the immense expenditure of magic draining me. I had never tried magic this big before and I knew I never would again—because if we didn’t win this battle, the three of us would be dead.
Lachlan shot more magical darts at the Mab’s swollen black abdomen and she skittered from side to side, her enormous body darting and bobbing as the tiny, rotten head screeched at us,
“You’ll never bind me! Never—never!”
“Hold her! Hold her steady!” Bran roared.
“All right—I’m trying!” Taking a deep breath, I yanked hard, tightening the silver rope and pulling the spider down so that the head was closer to the floor.
“Now, Bran!” Lachlan shouted, shooting another dart.
Bran rushed forward, his silver sword gleaming and I saw it rise and fall in a short, deadly arc.
The head fell free of the body in a spray of black ichor. It bounced and rolled over the polished, black wood floor until it ended up right at my feet.
“Ugh!” I gasped, jumping back, away from it. Because its eyes were still opening and closing. Though the monstrous spider body was slowly collapsing on the other end of the banquet hall, the head was somehow still alive.
And though it shouldn’t have been possible, it could still talk.
“You think you’ve won!” the rotten head said to me, its cracked lips curling up into a crazy grin. “You actually think you’ve won!”
I just stared at it—what could I say? I was at a loss for words—how could it even talk to me, let alone make sense? Was it some kind of black magic that kept Mab going even after she should be dead?
“You think you’ve won, but you haven’t!” the head said again, and cackled a laugh from its rotten grey lips.
“I…I don’t know what you mean,” I finally got out. “You’re dead—or you should be dead.”
“Oh yes, my dear—but then, so are you!” The sunken eyes widened in evil glee. “It’s just going to take you a bit longer to die, that’s all.”
“What…what are you talking about?” Suddenly I was scared. She was just lying—just saying things to freak me out, I tried to tell myself. But I had a horrible feeling that wasn’t the case.
“Remember that dream you had last night, my dear?” Mab’s rotten head asked me. “Remember the little old lady and the apple? Remember?”
My stomach twisted itself into a fist of dread as the nightmare that had woken me the night before came back to me. The old woman coming through the door in the picture and forcing me to take a bite of the bright, blood-red apple. Surely not—surely she couldn’t be telling the truth!
But there was a burning, bitter taste in the back of my throat that told a different story.
“You didn’t,” I whispered, staring down at her. “How…why…?”
“I knew you’d try to fight to keep your beauty,” the head said, still grinning her crazy grin at me. “But if I can’t have it—neither can you! You’ll be dead by the end of the year, sweet Granddaughter! Enjoy ruling whichever court you choose—you won’t have either very long!”
She started cackling again—a horrible, choking sound completely devoid of mirth. And then Bran’s silver sword came down, slicing clean through and cutting the rotten thing in half, finally shutting Mab up forever.
But though the mad queen was dead, the damage was done. I could feel the burning in my throat and taste the bitterness of the poison she had made me swallow the night before. Deep down, I knew it was already at work inside me and Mab was right.
I would be dead by the end of the year, no matter which Realm I chose.
95
“Emma, what is it? What’s wrong?” Lachlan asked anxiously.
“What did that evil thing say to you?” Bran growled.
I covered my face with my hands and began to sob.
“The Apple,” I whispered, barely able to get the words out. “The Wicked Apple—that was what I dreamed about last night. Only it wasn’t a dream. Mab came to me—she came through the door in the picture and she made me take a bite! And now I’m going to die, just like my real parents did! She said I’d die before…” I sobbed. “Before the end of the year.”
“She was lying!” Bran exclaimed, his face red with anger. “She was trying to scare you, Emma.”
But Lachlan’s face was pale and drawn. He shook his head slowly.
“No, I don’t think she was. Emma—do you have a bitter taste in the back of your throat?”
“Y-yes…” I nodded, my tears overflowing again. “She made me bite it—she forced it in my mouth. I thought it was a d-dream!”
I dissolved into sobs again. Was this really the end of my short life? I felt like it had barely begun—I wasn’t even out of high school yet! And now all I could do was go home and say goodbye to my coven—say goodbye to Avery and Megan and Kaitlyn—the best friends I had ever had in my life. I would die and leave them and never see them or Bran and Lachlan again.
And what about Griffin and Ari and Saint and little Jalli? What about my mom? What would it do to her to lose her daughter like this? It was like Mab had given me a terminal illness and there was nothing anyone I loved could do but watch me waste away, just like Lady Isella had been forced to watch my real mother, Lorella, waste away.
At that moment, the huge clock on the far wall of the banquet hall made a deep bong.
I looked up, my eyes blurry with tears.
“The first stroke of twelve,” Bran said numbly. “The time of decision.”
I shook my head.
“It doesn’t matter who I choose—in fact, I don’t want to choose either of you. What if choosing you drags you down with me? I can’t do that—I love you both too much.”
“And we love you, Emma,” Lachlan said as the clock continued to chime. “Which is why you need to choose both of us.”
“What?” I looked up at him uncertainly. “What are you talking about?”
“You need to choose both of us,” he repeated. He looked at Bran. “Together, we can help Emma bear this burden—dissipate this poison—the same way we did with the black widow’s poison.”
“But that won’t work!” I protested. “My father tried to save my mother that way and they both died!”
“Because there were only two of them!” Lachlan exclaimed. “Don’t you see—they Blood-Bonded too late and there were only the two of them to bear the poison. But you only took a bite of the Wicked Apple last night, little one. The poison hasn’t been in your system very long. The three of us ought to be able to handle it.”
“What if we can’t? What if it just kills you and Bran too? No…” I shook my head. “I don’t want to do that—I love both of you too much to risk your lives like that.”