Premonition of Peace (Her Immortal Monsters #3)

Chapter 25

twenty-five

NATHALIE

I landed flat on my back, the floor of the memory loci rushing up to greet me. My head cracked against the hard surface. I blinked away at the spots in my vision, gingerly touching the back of my head.

The spot hurt.

I couldn’t recall the last time anything hurt in the loci.

Ever.

Yet the back of my skull ached as if it had been bruised.

This wasn’t good.

Above me, the Nats peered down. Well, two of them did; The Warden and Ann. A boot nudged my arm, drawing my attention to the side where Bad Nat sprawled. She sat with one leg bent at the knee and the other stretched out, nudging me. I blinked a couple times, taking it all in.

“What in the?—”

A single finger pushed against my lips. The Warden.

“Nathalie, oh Nathalie,” The Morrigan said my name in a sing-song voice. A crazed sort of mania bled into the syllables, carrying from somewhere else in the loci. We were in the library with the chairs wedged beneath the doors to barre her from entry. Peace and Caretaker were nowhere to be found. “Where are we, little witch ?” She used Lucifer’s nickname in the most mocking of tones, making sharp indignation fire through me. “Did you build a place in your mind? How quaint.”

I breathed in through my nose, my nostrils flaring.

“Lucifer and Bad Nat were right,” Ann whispered. “When we cut the line to Kat . . .”

“We opened the door for her to come here,” I finished in an equally hushed tone.

“This is good,” The Warden continued quietly.

“In what world is this a good thing?” Bad Nat stage whispered.

“Because if she’s here, she’s not in us. She can’t control our body from the loci.”

“Um, newsflash, neither can we.”

A floorboard creaked outside the library doors. Shit .

“There you are,” The Morrigan practically purred from the other side of the door.

“Time to move,” The Warden said. She grabbed my upper arm, and we disappeared right as the wood splintered. We were only in the same place for a fraction of a second, but it was long enough for me to see. Morgan Le Fay was in her true form.

Old, weathered skin stretched taut across the bone and was nearly as white. Her hair appeared greasy at the scalp where it was falling out in clumps. The long silver strands hung limp at her waist. She wore some sort of ancient garment steeped in black magic. A dress that was the dark reddish brown of dried blood, as though it held her body together.

Despite her haggard appearance, the light brown eyes that matched mine were alight with a madness I couldn’t even fathom.

We reappeared in the greenhouse. I sat up, brushing the wooden shards from my chest. Peace and Caretaker sat in front of the door, bracing it with their bodies. From deeper in the house, the crack of wood splitting echoed.

“Well fuck. That answers that question.” Bad Nat sighed.

“What question?”

“Whether the old hag has her magic.”

“That hag just destroyed the library without a second thought,” I said. “And you’re bleeding.” It was slight, but a red slash stretched from the arch of her eyebrow to her hairline. A thin trickle of blood ran from it.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s everything,” Ann snapped back. “We’re invincible here. The loci is made for us. Shaped by us. It’s a physical manifestation of our psyche. It can’t be hurt, and neither can we. You aren’t supposed to bleed . The Morrigan’s soul entering must have changed that.”

We all stared at one another, the quiet truth hanging over us.

Morgan Le Fay’s voice rose from within the house once more, breaking the silence. “Oh little witch , you can’t hide forever.”

A chill ran through me, starting at the base of my spine and working its way up. The hairs on the back of my neck rose. She was right, of course. Hiding would only work for so long. If the sound of things exploding was anything to go by, she’d level the house before long and there would be nowhere left to run or hide.

“She’s not wrong,” I said quietly. “We have to face her.”

Peace made a face. “Are we strong enough?”

“It’s six against one,” The Warden pointed out.

“Be better if it was eight.”

My neck cracked from how hard my head whipped around to stare at Bad Nat.

“Rage is unpredictable,” I started.

Bad Nat shook her head, an almost pitying look in her eye. “Rage is one of us. So is Little. If this place dies, we all die with it.”

I inhaled sharply. “What if she just makes it worse?”

Bad Nat threw her arms wide, motioning to the greenhouse around us. “I hate the be the bearer of bad news, but how much fucking worse can it get?”

“She’s got a point,” Ann said quietly.

“What?”

Ann pinched the bridge of her nose. “Don’t make me say it twice.”

I turned to The Warden. “What do you think?”

“She never should have been locked up to begin with,” my strength answered.

I flinched at the accusation. “We were in agreement?—”

“You would have done it regardless of what we said. You weren’t ready to hear the truth.” She added, blunt but not cutting. There was a gentle edge to her voice as she said it. Sympathy. Pity.

I turned to Caretaker and Peace last. “Is that true?”

Caretaker tilted her head, eyes softening as she said, “You were in a bad place.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

She took a deep breath. “My purpose is to take care of us. All of us. Rage and Little are part of that.” She stared at me, unseeing for a moment as pain flashed through her features. It would have been undetectable to anyone else, but this was me. I saw it in the tightening of her jaw, the purse of her lips, and the tiny hunch between her brows. “I had to neglect them for the betterment of the whole.”

Speechless. I looked at Peace.

If there was anyone that was against Rage, it was always her. They were the antithesis of each other.

Peace sighed. “I agreed with you. I thought it’s what we needed to move on . . .”

“But?” I ground out.

She smiled sadly. “You can’t have peace without war. Rage is war, but she’s also needed .” My kinder, softer self scootched across the floor to take my hands. “We’re two sides of the same coin. You can’t have me without her.”

“It’s time,” Bad Nat said. “Put on your big girl panties and woman the fuck up. Open the door, Prime.”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as a desert. “What if she tells me to go fuck myself?”

“What if she doesn’t?” Peace countered.

“Oh, she totally will,” Bad Nat chuckled.

“I—” The words halted on my lips. Excuses. It was all excuses, and we didn’t have any more time for them.

I had to make a choice.

Admit my mistake. Ask Rage to rejoin us. To fight with us.

Or die.

The six of us could fight Morgan Le Fay, but I had this feeling, this premonition, that we wouldn’t win. Not as six. Even with Rage, nothing was guaranteed.

But it was something.

More than the hopeless crushing feeling in my chest that we would fail. That I would never make it back to August, Marcel, or Lucifer. That all of the suffering we’d been through was for nothing.

I couldn’t accept that.

No one liked to be told they were wrong. Fewer would admit it. I promised myself then and there that if we came out of this on the other end, I wouldn’t stop there. I would learn from it.

And I would stop shutting them out and keeping secrets from them.

“I grow tired of the hide and seek, Nathalie,” The Morrigan’s haunting voice trilled. Another explosion sounded from in the house that I knew to be the dining room.

“I need to talk to Rage,” I said. “Can you buy me time?”

Bad Nat summoned a baseball bat out of thin air. She twirled it in a circle with her wrist and slapped the blunt end against her palm. I arched an eyebrow. “What are you going to do with that?”

Bad Nat rolled her eyes. “What do you think? Swing it at her. Duh. If we can bleed, so can she.”

Beside her, The Warden summoned a short sword. Something I saw years ago when I went through a phase where I was obsessed with human weapons. I learned everything I could about them and how to wield them.

In the real world, I probably wouldn’t stand a chance at being successful with these weapons. But here, in my domain?

I was going to fucking slay.

Me and my others.

As if on cue, Ann called up a utility belt filled with different colored vials. I’d bet the whole loci that those chemicals, when combined, exploded. It was a fitting weapon for my least emotional self.

“Alrighty then, you guys ready to do this?”

Ann, The Warden, and Bad Nat shared a look then nodded once. They disappeared a second later, leaving me with Caretaker and Peace.

“Where do you need us?” Caretaker asked hesitantly.

“Not with me.” I shook my head. “Join the others. I need to take of this myself.”

Peace gave me a slight encouraging smile and Caretaker’s eyes softened. “Speak from the heart,” the latter said.

I nodded once and they disappeared too.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and moved silently from the greenhouse and appeared at the door outside the attic. All was quiet, apart from the distant sounds of battle.

My throat constricted. A knot tightened in my stomach as I slowly unlocked the door—mentally breaking the chains. They hit the wooden floor with a thud. The door swung open on creaking hinges.

Everything was as I remembered.

Blood-stained floors.

A dozen candles, all burned to the base and smoking.

Thousands of glass shards floating in a circle.

In the center of it all was Little. A small, brown-eyed girl with tear-stained cheeks. She huddled in on herself, knees pulled to her chest. Her arms wrapped around them tightly.

My heart stuttered.

Then she appeared.

Rage.

Her hair floated like the glass, eyes glowing a burnished gold color. Her clothes were ripped, her fingers stained red. She looked more than a little feral.

I opened my mouth to speak but the words wouldn’t come.

How did I apologize to myself for all the time spent with my head in the sand? How could I find the right way to own the injustice committed?

Everything felt so hollow when faced with the reality of what I’d done.

“What? No words?” Rage said, voice dripping with poison. “You’re here to apologize and ask for my help, are you not?”

“I—yes, but how do you?—”

She huffed a bitter laugh. “The memory loci is under attack. I don’t have to be Ann to know that you’d come for me when it suits you.”

“Rage, I’m sorry—” I stumbled over my apology. Her upper lip pealed back in disgust.

“Save it. It’s not like you mean it anyway.”

“That’s the thing. I do mean it. The others—they were right. I was wrong to lock you away. What happened . . . it wasn’t your fault, even though I blamed you for it. I . . . I don’t have the words to express how sorry I am for locking you both away, because the words don’t exist. Nothing I say will compare to actions, and for nearly a decade mine have been atrocious.” I sucked in a tight breath, trying to get my lungs to expand despite the uncomfortable tightness in my chest.

“You’re right,” Rage said, that all too familiar fire burning in her golden gaze. “But I meant what I said. I don’t need your apology. Not now. Not ever.”

“But I—” My lips parted in shock.

Rage extended a hand. The glass parted. Little got to her feet and slowly padded forward. Small fingers closed around the offered hand like it was a lifeline.

“How do I make this right?”

Rage stared straight ahead, not looking at me. Beyond us, explosions went off. Wood splintered. Furniture was thrown from one end of the room to the other. We heard it all. And yet there was only silence in that moment.

I didn’t think she was going to answer, but she did. “I don’t know that you can ever make it right, but I can promise you this—when it’s done, if we live, you will never lock me away again, or I will tear this loci apart myself.”

I swallowed hard. It burned, her ire, but I’d earned it. And if we survived, I’d find a way to live with it too. “You have my word. I won’t lock you up again. Either of you.”

Rage’s gaze slid to me, measuring what my word was worth. She must have found it worth something because she nodded once and strode past me, taking Little with her.

Before she could make it to the door, the floor began to shake. A shudder went through the house, and then the ground gave way. We fell through the air, no more than a second before landing on broken wood and shattered glass.

I tried to sit up, but the glass was embedded in my hands. Every twitch of muscle, pushing it deeper beneath my skin. The breath hissed from between my teeth. An eerie laugh surrounded me.

“What have we here?” Morgan Le Fay mocked as she walked around us in a circle. Her bare feet stepped on broken glass, but she didn’t seem to notice. I wasn’t sure if she was immune to the pain or if her tolerance was just that high, but either way, she left bloody footprints in her wake. “Is that a little girl? You really did create multiple versions of yourself in this place. It’s almost impressive what you’ve done here. I’ve been in many minds over the years, and none held up against me.”

She stopped before me. I spat; blood mixed with broken tooth landed in a wet glob on her left foot, and The Morrigan sneered. Lifting a bloody foot, I closed my eyes in preparation for the blow—but it didn’t come. Not immediately.

“Oh no you don’t.” Bad Nat appeared beside her, baseball bat swinging before she was even full materialized. Morgan Le Fay caught the blunt end in one hand and squeezed. The wood cracked under her grip. She switched direction and planted that foot in Bad Nat’s stomach, sending her flying across the house.

I winced.

From behind her, The Warden appeared. Blood already splattered her clothes. She was sporting a split lip and a black eye, but determination still glinted in her gaze. She stabbed at the spot where The Morrigan was, but the evil of old parried, sending another swift kick into The Warden’s ribs.

A crack echoed through the room as she soared a few feet and crashed into Ann. They both went down in a tumble. The potion Anne was mixing spilled. Green liquid rolled across the floor in a glass vial that stopped just short of Morgan Le Fay’s feet. With a flick of the witch’s wrist, the vial shot back, flying across the room toward them . . . and detonated.

The explosion that rocked the house shook me to my core.

Ann . . .

Warden . . .

My eyes watered. I felt their passing. Their pain. The way the flesh melted off their bones, the only consolation was that it was fast. Blindingly so. They had no time to scream.

But I did.

A sound I’d never made before crawled up my throat. Somewhere between a growl and battle cry. I launched myself at The Morrigan. Golden magic pouring from my skin, filling the room.

My analytical self was gone. My strength was gone.

Caretaker joined me, brandishing a cast iron pan in one hand and rolling pin in the other. My magic clashed with Morgan Le Fay’s as Caretaker went at her. The bitch danced on her bloody feet evading us both.

Then the worst happened.

The Morrigan sent a shot of black magic at Caretaker and struck true. Her head fell from her neck, a scorched hole appearing where it once was. Her body stood there, suspended, not quite realizing she was dead. And then it fell.

Caretaker hit the ground with a thud.

Gone.

Just like Ann. Just like The Warden.

An earsplitting scream stopped us both in its tracks.

Across the room, Peace stood with her fingers tense in a clawed motion. Nothing moved. No one reacted. It was like time sat still for a single second.

And then there were plants everywhere.

They burst from the hallway that led to her greenhouse. They climbed through the broken windows. They split the ground beneath us, slithering and snaking around corners and objects.

Green thorned vines appeared with a vengeance, Peace’s vengeance.

One caught the ancient witch by her ankle. Another her bicep. Quickly, they attacked her limbs, wrapping around everybody part, including her neck.

Then they squeezed.

And squeezed.

And—

Exploded.

The vines disintegrated in the face of her black magic and the force of it cut through my own. It hit me square in the chest like a stab wound. I clutched at my heart, feeling it tighten. My head became warm. Nausea churned in my stomach.

Oh my gods. Was I having a heart attack? Sweat slicked my skin, mixing with the dirt and debris. I dropped to my knees, blinded by the pain.

But I felt it. The second Peace left us.

The moment The Morrigan killed her.

I don’t know how, but the pain that went through me at her loss . . . it was visceral. Somehow deeper than the others. It’s like each piece she took from me left my heart hollow and my mind splintered like the wood beneath my knees.

She was chipping away at my defenses. Taking us down one by one.

Pretty soon there would be nothing left.

Just shattered glass and an empty house of horrors.

My body seized. I fell sideways. My head cracked against the floor.

Stars danced in my vision.

Then it cleared and there she was, wiping her dirty foot across my cheek.

“Admit it, little witch. Try as you might, I will always win. It would be better if you surrendered. I could make it painless. The rest of you don’t have to suffer if you choose wisely.”

“Never,” I spat as best as I could between gritted teeth. Morgan Le Fay tutted like I was an errant child doing something naughty.

“Very well. Just remember, I gave you a choice. That’s more than either of your sister’s had.”

She lifted her hand, and I instinctively knew it was the end. She’d obliterate me. She would have full control of my body, and my magic. It was over.

A tear slipped down my cheek as I waited.

I silently said my goodbyes to the men I loved.

To Piper and the kids.

Ronan would save them. I took solace in that.

He would come through.

Then, so softly I almost missed it, a low chuckle sounded behind me.

My heart felt as though it had jumped into my throat.

The Morrigan cocked her head. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because,” Rage murmured, “ it’s my turn.”

Glass lifted from the ground. A cold wind swept through the house. There was no sky above us. No demons or gods that could hear us. Yet, I felt a darkness within her—within me—that I’d never touched before.

They say you should never take blood from more than one demon. That the results could be catastrophic. Morgan Le Fay had defied that. But she wasn’t the only one.

Ronan. Piper. Lucifer.

I may have been born a witch with weak chaos magic.

But I was not weak.

Not anymore.

I just needed to hit rock bottom to see it. See her.

Rage in her truest form.

Raw. Unrestrained. Immeasurable.

Her hair lifted on end, the strands whipping around in that magical wind. Her eyes glowed with the fire of a thousand suns. Gold filled my vision, coloring every fiber, every inch, every particle.

Amid the chaos, one thing remained untouched.

Little.

She stood strong, gripping my other’s hand, grounding her when no other could.

I thought I’d unleashed myself before, but the truth was I’d buried my power in chains. I punished it for being tied to my emotions. Because Rage was so much more than her name. She was power. She was passion.

And right now, she was finally free.

Gold settled over Morgan Le Fay’s skin. It buried deep into the rot of her black magic. She didn’t have time to scream. There were no last words.

The golden shards spun faster and faster. Their wicked edges slicing her skin open, making way for more gold magic.

More chaos.

More . . . me .

She tried to fight. Her dark magic attempted to lash out, but like with Carissa, the second it encountered mine, it became mine. I took control of her body, her blood, her magic, her very being.

I absorbed it. Absorbed her into myself.

I took every blackened spec and made it gold.

I tore apart her form to feed my own.

Until Morgan Le Fay was no more.

Fingers wrapped around my own. I looked up to see Little’s hand clasped with mine, linking me to Rage.

“It is done,” my seven-year-old self said.

My chest caved in. Tears I couldn’t stop poured from me. We might have survived but my others . . .

I sobbed. “Peace. Caretaker. Ann. The Warden. I—I can’t do it without them.”

“Then we won’t,” Little said.

I blinked away my watery vision, letting it sharpen enough so I could focus on her face. “But they’re . . .” I couldn’t say it. I wouldn’t.

“Pieces of you,” Bad Nat interjected hoarsely, stumbling forward from the wreckage she’d been trapped in. One hand fisted in her band shirt, where her ribs were broken and were now healing. “We all are. With The Morrigan vanquished, they will come back.”

“But when?” I asked.

Bad Nat lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know, but that bitch Ann would never stay down for long. Even if you’re shattered right now, you’re still you. The others will return in time.”

“How do you know?”

Bad Nat grinned. “I’ve been telling you this all along. I’m the truth. The bitter, usually sucky truth that exists when you strip everything else away.”

“I . . . how do I just leave? How do I move on? The loci is a mess, and we’ve lost half of us. What do I even?—”

Little squeezed my hand.

Bad Nat patted my shoulder awkwardly. “I’m not good with the touchy, feely shit. Go back to your mates and heal. That’s what you do. Leave the loci to us.”

“I don’t know if I can . . .”

“Don’t make me yeet you,” Bad Nat deadpanned.

“What the fuck is a yeet?” Rage asked, scrunching her brow.

“It sounds like a vegetable,” Little whispered.

Bad Nat winked at them. “I’ll catch you up.”

I sighed softly, looking between the three familiar faces. They were the pieces of me that were still intact. My young self. My passion and power. My truth.

I was missing my strength, my peace, my love for others, and my brilliant mind.

But they would be back. They had to.

Eventually.