Blackbird Crowned (The Witch King's Crown #3) - Keri Arthur Page 0,60

open any safer?

I scanned the fog-masked fields surrounding the Gill and the bridge, looking for the problems I suspected were here, but seeing nothing untoward. Yet unease continued to stir.

I walked to the bridge’s rock wall and peered over. Hell’s Gill was a narrow, five-hundred-meter-long slash in the ground that had been created over the centuries by the clear, cold waters that still ran at its base. Although the canyon was not particularly deep—at least in comparison to its US counterparts—it had become a favorite haunt of cavers and scramblers alike, all of whom had no idea that the presence of the main gate made this one of the most dangerous places on Earth.

Enough light had crept into the sky to see the dark pool of slow-moving water at the base of the Gill, but it was impossible to see the main gate from where I stood, nor could I sense any lessening in the old powers that protected this place. Even Mo’s spell pulsed on, seemingly as strong as the day she’d cast it. Either Max’s attempt at breaching it had spectacularly failed or this really was nothing more than a …

The thought stuttered to a halt as Elysian began to pulse. A heartbeat later, energy punched through me, sending me stumbling backward. It burned through every cell and fiber of my body, a storm that spoke of fierce electricity and furious winds, of the cindering heat found deep within the earth, and of the rolling violence and power of the sea.

It wasn’t the gate’s energy. It was a combination of light energy and dark. Max’s energy and that of the dark elves.

Nails scraped against stone. Alarm surged, and I spun. Eyes stared back at me. Red eyes. Demon eyes. I heard a similar sound behind me and spun again to see more of them crawling over the wall I’d been leaning on only seconds before. Then the wind started whispering, and I glanced up sharply; there were five winged demons in the air.

I’d been wrong in presuming this trap had been aimed at Mo. I was their target, just as Luc had feared.

I flexed my fingers but didn’t unleash the lightning that flicked and buzzed across my fingertips. No matter how fast I was or how deadly my lightning, I wouldn’t be able to kill them all. And that was no doubt the whole idea.

I backed into the middle of the bridge. None of them reacted; they simply watched, red eyes gleaming with anticipation and hunger. They wanted blood, wanted to rend and tear, but were being restrained by something.

Or someone.

My heart began to beat even harder.

Max. It had to be. He was the only one who could wield the fake sword. And that was no doubt the reason for the odd energy I’d sensed emanating from the gate’s rune. Mryddin might have created the fake sword, but a man who’d crossed from light to dark now wielded it.

Elysian’s pulsing grew stronger, and a gentle mist stirred around me, momentarily blurring my vision. There was an odd wrench sideways, though I didn’t physically move, and suddenly I was neither in this world nor in the gray, but somewhere in between. There was no bridge, no demons, and no Gill. All I could see was a man-shaped sliver of darkness walking toward me. In his right hand was a sword; it was richly embellished with gold and emitted a twisting, writhing mass of blackish purple and golden energy that moved in time to Elysian’s beat.

Were Elysian and the fake sword acknowledging each other? There were certainly some ancient artifacts that could recognize similar energies, but I really hadn’t expected it in this situation.

I blinked, and normal vision returned. Max stopped at the beginning of the bridge; not only was he holding the sword, but a gun.

My heart stuttered to a brief halt. For several seconds, I could only stare at him, unable to believe that my brother—my twin—was willing to shoot me for his insane cause. I swallowed heavily and somehow said, “So it has come down to this? You’d kill your own sister to claim what will never be yours?”

Thankfully, my voice remained calm, untouched by the inner terror and heartbreak. I wanted to cry—to rant and rage at him—but it would do little good and leave me with nothing more than blurred vision. That could be fatal given the number of demons surrounding me. I needed to see if I wanted to survive, and while I might