The Deepest Black Page 22

  “We don't know why some get another chance,” Annevieve says. “We just know that fae children born on a new moon, they aren't only ours. They don't belong to us alone. Even the sky says so, hiding its light so we can switch them without being seen.”

  I swallow hard, wishing for time to digest what has been said, but all it does is leave a strange taste. “What about the changeling?”

  “Changelings are a special kind of witch, a magical vessel with no spirit, waiting to be filled.” Annevieve glances at the silent newborn. “She has a strong body but no spirit, and her human counterpart has just the opposite—a spirit with a failing body.”

  I can't meet the bog witch's eyes, as if doing so would let her see I had been reconsidering Franjo's death; that maybe he hadn't been wrong, and I was going to have to pick up where he left off in fighting this tradition. But I hadn't known their reason, their purpose.

  Didn't he realize that changelings are miracles to humans?

  Cracking echoes to our left. I spin around toward it, fists clenched at my side. Was the ground splitting just beyond the trees? Except the cracking sounded more like. . .

  “Ice,” I say flatly. “Your spell. . .”

  Before I can finish the thought, I whirl back around and dodge toward the girl. She offers the baby up to me, and I cradle it close, bringing my jacket over to shield its face.

  I look up at expectantly at Annevieve.

  “We have to open the portal,” she says and gestures for me to follow.

  I trudge after her, baby in my arms, shoving down every pain that threatens to end my journey here. But I take the next one, and the next one, unable to shake the visual of Cassia crying over her baby's body.

  As we walk, I whisper to the fading changeling a fairy tale:

  “Once upon a time, a sick little girl was born. A man, a fae, had been given a special task to bring a changeling to save her. A counterpart that looked like her, acted like her, that became her.

  “But the man harbored such hatred for changelings, because he was one, too. He resented that his life, his existence, had been a lie. And he was surrounded by so much awful, so much evil, that he stopped looking for the people who needed him, the ones who fell through the cracks. The people who would have helped him if he had just. . .acknowledged they existed.”

  I look up as the device comes into view. It's not just a forgotten machine; it controls the portal.

  Annevieve hurries over to it and gestures for me to pick up my pace. I approach the contraption, appreciating its form for the first time.

  I glance down at the baby in my arms. “This is where happy endings begin.”

  Annevieve grabs my hand and shoves it against the flat surface on the device. Something sharp stabs the center of my palm. I try to jerk back, but she holds my hand flat.

  “Sorry, but happy endings take blood,” she says with a flutter of her eyes.

  “Of course they do.” I grimace as the device feeds on me like a vampire.

  Then light dances on its surface, like the beams inside a plasma ball. They arc and twist, running up the length of the antennae, and shoot off into the sky. Light flashes from the Storyteller's back yard, and then random locations in the distance. One after another as each portal is activated again.

  Wordlessly, Annevieve yanks my hand from the device and then tugs me toward the Storyteller's house. I duck inside the remains and let her lead me through the silence, out to the backyard where the portal is waiting.

  “On your own from here,” she says, and I turn to look at her, stunned.

  “What do I do?” I glance down at the baby. “How do I. . .”

  “You already did your magic. You opened the portal. Now bring her to where she can do her own.”

  I nod, and take a step toward the portal. Then my feet stop moving. A lump forms in my throat.

  “You'll make sure Dell and Oliver get home, right?” I ask without looking back.

  “Of course,” she says, and they're the most sincere words I've ever heard come from her snarky mouth.

  “And tell Remy I'm sorry.”

  She doesn't say anything.

  I duck my head and enter the portal.

  * * *

  Inside my apartment, the world is silent. I creep to the bedroom and stop in the doorway. Cassia has cried herself to sleep, sitting in the bed hunched over. Mom is huddled in a corner nearby, unconscious. Baby Madison lies motionless on Cassia's lap.

  I don't expect this to work. The changeling hasn't moved, hasn't even breathed, since I took her. I expended my good luck killing Franjo, and I'm too late to save anyone else.

  But I came this far. So I inch my way across the room to the bed, and lay the changeling next to Baby Madison. There's a long moment when nothing happens.

  Then the changeling takes a breath. And another. With each one, she inhales Madison, takes her essence, becomes her, until the old form has faded away.

  She opens her eyes.

  And she's alive.

  It's over. The curse is gone, and I've fulfilled my role in both worlds.

  I turn to leave, to head to my room and hope to sleep for a long while, but something calls me to the window. It's somehow familiar. I want to ignore it, but it's like I'm pulled to the sill.

  I climb over, my boots crunching in the snow, and look around. The storm has stopped, but the streets are still buried and empty. I'm alone.

  And yet. . .

  My gaze drifts skyward and settles on a light. A tiny one, but unmistakable.

  A smile plays on my lips.

  And, with a happy sigh, I set out in the deepest black of night, following the light home.

  About the Author

  Rainy Kaye is an aspiring overlord. In the mean time, she blogs at RainyoftheDark and writes paranormal novels from her lair somewhere in Phoenix, Arizona.

  She is represented by Rossano Trentin of TZLA. Someone told her she's a USA Today Bestselling author. She thought there would be cake.

  http://www.rainyofthedark.com/