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  A violent shockwave of energy explodes from the white fire, blasting an arctic wind over us. The air suddenly goes completely still and silent, as if a glass dome slammed down over us. Starbursts of rainbow-colored sparks shimmer and gleam overhead soundlessly.

  I must be deaf.

  “Is there a problem here?”

  Grateful my eardrums weren’t blown, I turn to see Rade suddenly standing near us. I back up next to Maddox, my senses on overload as I take a sweep over everything that’s happening. The white fire died down after that massive pulse, which I’m guessing blew out the Wall. But then again, maybe the blast didn’t do the job. Rade’s warlocks still have their energetic tentacles in everyone. Something’s not right. They’re sucking everyone dry. If we don’t do something soon, our crew’s dead.

  “I’m handling it,” Maddox says.

  Hold on. Did I hear that right? Why’s Maddox talking to Rade like I just walked in on a conversation I’m not part of?

  For a split second I teeter, thrown off balance as if the ground suddenly shifted beneath me. I look at Maddox and then to Rade, trying to deny what my gut’s telling me. But there’s no painting this differently. My heart slams in my chest as suspicion shoves its way to the front of my mind. I shake my head, refusing to believe the worst. This can’t be. I’ve spent the last ten years with Maddox. From day one, he’s been my hero and mentor. My brother.

  No, no, no, no, no…

  That sick feeling I’ve had all day goes into overdrive, gripping me in a violent dry heave. Clutching my stomach, I gulp the bile down, wiping at the sweat dripping down my forehead.

  I stare at Maddox, searching for the fatherly leader I’ve come to know and respect. Seeing him next to Rade like this, I’m all of a sudden struck by their likeness to each other. Warlocks share a familial quality. All of them are tall and slender with thick, dark hair, ice-blue eyes and statuesque features that could’ve been carved by the same sculptor.

  Then I notice the double cross tattoo inked on Rade’s neck. Maddox has one in the same place.

  I’m floored. I can’t believe I never saw the warlock in Maddox until now. But I should’ve. All the signs were there. The obsession with magic, tracking the moon’s phases and solstices, insisting on having the rarest spell books and specimens for his potions and ceremonies. I never once looked past the white hair and silver eyes, all traits he got when he was turned. No wonder he’s been tight-lipped about what he was before he was bitten. He’s been an open book about being a two-hundred-year-old vampire and how he started up the Forsaken in the 70’s. All freely shared details I mistook for honesty.

  What a sucker I’ve been.

  My fists curl with rage and I punch him in the face. “You’re a warlock?”

  Licking the blood beading from the split in his lip, Maddox glowers at me. “That’s the last time you get salty with me, boy.”

  “This is what you call handling it?” Rade sneers. “You promised me he could open the portal.”

  Maddox scowls at Rade. “He can. And he will.”

  “Like hell!” Every part of me screams with defiance. The urge to smoke out of here presses in on me. I try reaching for my Djinn fire again, but there’s no getting past the invisible barrier. A cold realization hits me. Maddox did something to me.

  I push my sleeve back, wincing at the sight of the burned skin around my ward. “This isn’t for protection is it?”

  “You really should’ve let Booker school you on those magic lessons he was always spouting,” Maddox says.

  I gulp. My throat’s so dry and tight it feels like I’m swallowing broken glass. Is Booker in on this too? One look tells me he isn’t. His face is white, frozen in a silent scream as he stares straight ahead.

  “I may not know magic as good as you or Booker, but I’ve made it my business to know every binding symbol, ward, sigil, glyph and rune out there. This ain’t one of ‘em.”

  Maddox grabs my wrist, yanking my hand above my shoulder so I’m seeing the symbol upside down. “It’s all about how you look at it,” he says, letting go like he’s dropping a grimy piece of garbage.

  My heart drops into the pit of my stomach. The triangle with the Djinn glyph in its center is upright. I’ve been viewing the ward upside down for the last decade, unknowingly perceiving the ward in its negative aspect. Now that he’s activated the reversed meaning, Maddox is using the polar opposite of protection to lock my Djinn power away from me.

  Bastard tricked me with the truth.

  I’ve felt my fair share of hatred but never like this. Rage surges through my veins, awakening something deep inside, an unnamable magic fueled by injustice and vengeance. The force builds in my chest. Pressing, demanding to be let loose. I yield to it, ready to let this living breathing hate-filled thing go medieval on his ass.

  Energy explodes from me, crackling down my arms, shooting red lightning from my fingertips. Wild bolts crackle around me, expanding my awareness in all directions.

  The world suddenly looks different. Like my eyes have been cloudy my whole life. Everything’s taken on a sharp-edged brilliance so beautiful it almost hurts. Gold sparks stream in concentric circles beneath the bark of every tree trunk, each leaf is rimmed in light and the rocks and earth gleam with an inner pulsing heartbeat. At the edge of the woods, wispy creatures of moss and thin twigs rustle, whispering like the wind, staring at me with eyes as black and liquid as still pools. The second they sense my attention on them, they vanish and I wonder if I imagined them.

  It doesn’t matter.

  Maddox is all I care about. Turning my gaze on him, I level a deeper, darker layer of loathing at him. I can now see him for what he really is. There’s no light in him. He’s nothing more than a smudge of darkness, a corpse animated by a shriveled, bloodthirsty heart.

  Fury and betrayal twist deep inside me. It hurts. I want it out. Opening my mouth, I shout my anguish at him. What comes out is a terrible roar. Heat singes my lungs as lightning bolts stream from my mouth and the palms of my hands.

  Instead of frying Maddox to a crisp, a single word from him deflects the killing strobes. He speaks again, this time in Sidhe, using the ancient language to control this unruly power pouring out of me, locking me inside it.

  A hissing, flashing ball of energy forms a few feet in front of me. Bright chips of light splinter off the spinning orb and scatter to form a circle of spokes and Sidhe characters.

  He’s taking all this energy I’m spewing and making his own portal.

  Smiling contemptuously, Rade chuckles. “Finally, I’ve got the Seelie prince where I want him.”

  The moment slams to a halt. Me. A Seelie prince. King Newyddilyn’s son.

  Icy shock numbs my brain.

  How is it that my entire life’s been one big painful question mark, yet in all of five minutes, I find out Maddox is a backstabbing warlock and I’m the royal chump being owned?

  6

  Mayhem

  “CAT GOT YOUR TONGUE?” Rade says as he saunters over to me. He makes a sad face. “Well, that’s just boring.”

  “Get on with it,” Maddox says.

  A look of mutual contempt passes between them.

  “I would think after waiting over two soul-sucking centuries you’d want to savor this moment more than anyone, Maddox. But then again, you always were impatient.” Rade’s jaw twitches with irritation when Maddox doesn’t answer. He shrugs, smiling that cold smile as he turns to me and lifts his curved ceremonial dagger to my throat.

  I struggle against the bonds of my newborn power. I’m locked down solid. The only way I’m getting out of this is if Maddox lets me go.

  Rade’s blade bites into me. My blood flies through the air and hits the portal. The symbols warp and ripple, glowing bright, swirling into a maelstrom growing larger by the second.

  Smiling wickedly, Rade presses the blade, driving the pain deeper.

  I’m powerless to do anything but take it.

  A cloud of dark smoldering energ
y smashes into Rade and Maddox with the force of a giant fist. They go flying backward as a gang of demon goblins press in from all sides. It’s the Mayhems. They must’ve crashed the party. No pureblood would ever ask them here. They’re considered halfbreeds like us. These ugly green-tinged, pointy-eared badasses are built like heavyweight boxers and they dress like them too. I’m talking purple satin hooded robes and shiny black shorts. They’ve got no allies. These dudes live to make trouble wherever they go.

  I never thought I’d be happy to see them. Looks like they absorbed the warlocks’ shadow fire and hurled it back at them with even greater force.

  My energy shackles unlock. My legs are weak and made of jelly. I fall to the ground, cupping the cut on my throbbing neck. Blood’s gushing through my fingers, streaming toward the portal. I’ve got to stop the bleeding. Keep the gateway from opening any wider. There’s no telling where it leads.

  Then the warlocks’ spell breaks. The dome of silence disintegrates and the thunderous sounds of fireworks crash in. The fire over Shorakkopoch Rock shrinks to a few meager flames, its icy emanation gone, replaced by the thick humid heat of summer. As the Mayhems spoon-feed the warlocks their own medicine, all hell breaks loose.

  I can’t make out much from down here on my knees beyond a blur of motion, flashes of foxfire and ensorcelled flames. Growls, shouts and spine-tingling screeches join the rapid succession of explosive sounds coming from the fireworks finale. The sky’s filled with a kaleidoscope of brilliant color, highlighting the violence below in hues of gold, scarlet and royal blue.

  The smell of gunpowder carries on the wind as a swarm of Pink Ladies take to the air, their dark iridescent wings reflecting the glittering magnificence of the giant balls of fire suspended in the sky. I’m not surprised the pixies are the first to retreat. They’re more deadly when they have the element of surprise on their side.

  One of the Red Dragons jumps ninja-quick directly over me, slashing with reptilian claws of steel as he dives back into the seething mob, gutting a surprised Carnie right in front of me, his clown face frozen in a ghoulish grin of fangs.

  Grossed out, I twist away, trying to summon the strength to get up when I see Hurley. He’s gone full Oni demon–all horns, fangs and claws. The berserker’s taken over, having dug his way into a redcap’s chest. I look away as Hurley pulls out the Bonegrinder’s heart and bites down on it.

  The rest of the gang circles around me. Nyx is to my right, gripping her daggers. With the bright fireworks blazing overhead, she’s vulnerable, unable to use the darkness to her advantage. Fletcher directs his invisible arrows at a Hellhound in the middle of shifting, his spiked hackles growing fast, and vicious snout splitting the human skin around his mouth. The half-formed beast twists away from Fletcher’s barrage and sinks his teeth in the throat of a Dread witch.

  Her shriek of pain cuts through the clamor as she dematerializes into hundreds of bats, barely escaping the werehyena’s deadly bite. Hissing in outrage, the witch’s sisters–darkly cloaked in the auras of their demon familiars–shatter into night-black clouds of particles, which swiftly reform into swarms of flies, ravens and locusts, some skittering away as cockroaches, rats and spiders.

  A little further away, Knox is branding faces with fiery fists. Zulu’s got his blowpipe out, shooting darts dipped in confusion potion, laughing when his targets turn on each other. Pandora stands calmly by, ghosting in and out as fists and claws pass through her misty form. She’s not letting anyone cross our circle, taking solid form and whispering poisonous words to those who come too close. I watch them bleed from eyes and ears as they crumple in on themselves, some turning to ash, others imploding into piles of bloody mush.

  Constantine dodges a Gray Boy’s Kaiser blade and kicks the shadow elf’s legs out from under him. He catches the elf, looking like he’s giving him a hug. He’s not. The shadow elf’s eyes sink into his sockets as he shrivels in the soul eater’s arms like a dried flower. Closing his eyes, Constantine breathes deep as if he’s sniffing good wine, then drops the husk he just sampled. I’d hate to see what a pure blood soul eater can do.

  Justice steps over the withered elf with a disapproving frown. His gloves are off, but it looks like his angel side is curbing the fight in him. That is, until a Mech tries to strangle him with the oily, black tentacles snaking from his mechanical arm. Justice grabs hold of the slithering feelers like he’s shaking hands. The Mech stops, standing rock still, his tentacles change back into ordinary cables. I wonder what kind of effect Justice’s touch will have. Mechs are phantom sorcerers. They have a thing for possessing corpses and animating them with mechanical parts imbued with magic.

  Booker’s suddenly next to me. “You alright? What happened to you?”

  “Didn’t you see what Maddox did?”

  “Couldn’t see squat while those assholes were sucking the juice out of us. Why? What’d he do?”

  I hold out my burned wrist. “He used my ward against me. I’m wiped. I can’t teleport anymore.”

  Booker sucks in an uneasy breath as he scrutinizes the ward. “Damn, Maddox really screwed you over. I can’t believe I never saw the orientation before. It’s so obvious now. Man, I knew the dude could be diabolical, but not with one of our own. Why would he do that?”

  “He’s been workin’ with the Bad Hats all along. He let Rade slit my neck to open that goddamn portal. They think I’m the Seelie prince.”

  Booker’s eyes go round with shock. “Get out! You’re Newyddilyn’s son?”

  “No! At least I don’t think so.”

  Booker studies me a minute. I can see the wheels turning. “Did your blood activate the portal?”

  “Looked like it.”

  “So you’re a frickin’ faery! Not just any faery, a Highborn.” He nods. “That explains a lot.”

  “Meaning?”

  He glances around with a worried look. “We gotta get you the hell out of here. What about Maddox? Did he take off?”

  “The Mayhems blasted him and Rade. They were blown over there. If we’re lucky, they both got wasted.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it. We gotta get your Djinn powers back online, like yesterday.”

  I like the sound of that. “How?”

  “We’ve gotta melt that sucker off your arm.”

  “Melt? Like with fire?”

  “You got it.”

  My scorched wrist aches at the thought. “Fine. Do what you gotta do.”

  “Should stop the bleeding first. Make sure the portal keeps closing.” He looks over at it, now a faint glimmer just a few feet from us. “Any idea where it goes?”

  “Not a clue.”

  Booker flicks his wrist, igniting his fingertips with gold flames. “This shouldn’t hurt…much,” he says, reaching out to cauterize the cut on my neck.

  Something looms out of nowhere, bashing Booker in the head. The life goes out of his eyes before his chin hits the gravel.

  He’s not moving. Maddox stands over him holding a thick branch wet with blood. The Mayhems must’ve weakened him good or he would’ve used magic to off Booker.

  “You bastard! I’m gonna kill you!” I scream, so loud my lungs rattle with pain. As I struggle to rise to my feet, the painful slit in my neck widens. Blood gushes and snakes in a red stream toward the portal.

  Nyx steps in front of me. “Not before I do.”

  A stream of red fire engulfs her, instantly evaporating into smoke, leaving nothing behind. Rade strides through the drifting smoke and stops beside Maddox.

  Gutted to the core, I stare where Nyx was standing. Tears of fury burn my eyes.

  Maddox wrenches me to my feet, hauling my raggedy ass over to the portal. “You’re gonna do what you were bred for, Edge, or I swear I’m gonna rip your throat out with my teeth. I didn't come this far to have the door slammed in my face.”

  “How could you do this?” I scream, my voice so filled with rage it’s a snarl. “I trusted you! We all trusted you!”

  “Ever wonder w
hy I named us the Forsaken? Now you know why,” he says, shoving my face within inches of the portal.

  His meaning slams into me like a Mack truck. Maddox doomed us with a symbol of defeat and suffering. He hasn’t been mentoring a bunch of underdogs to be strong. He’s been raising pigs for the slaughter.

  The fight leaks out of me like a tire losing air. I suppose that’s what happens when the awful truth barrels into you. I’ve been fighting for as long as I can remember. Fighting to stay alive. Fighting to be part of a family. Fighting for respect. Fighting to protect. And for what? A pack of lies?

  Fed by the blood spurting from my cut, the portal flares bright, spinning into a vortex of whirling starlight. As my life force drains away, the misery goes with it. Like a ghost, I slip through the gateway. I don’t know where I am. It’s as if I’m at the edge of the world, staring into space.

  The air smells of stars, sharp and clean as I travel the endless emptiness. Then I see something in the black, a splinter of light I can’t resist moving toward. Warmth, sunlight and woodsy scents drift over me as I skim along patches of forest, rolling pastures and giant faery mounds covered with the greenest grass I’ve ever seen. Something in my bones tells me these are the hollow hills of Ireland, the hidden kingdom of the Highborn.

  I sink into the hill, questing for the People of the Sídhe. An infinity later, I enter a palace carved within the earth and lit with faery fire. Immortals clothed in high style, stroll the fancy terraces and winding staircases.

  So this is where the portal leads. Now I know why Rade needed me to open it. With the Wall down, the warlocks are going to invade the Highborn kingdom.

  The fight returns, along with some of my strength. Tensing every muscle, I try twisting out of Maddox’s grip. His fingers dig into the back of my neck, pulling my skin, opening my cut even wider. As we struggle within the portal’s opening, the Highborns turn in our direction.

  Rage sets like stone in their faces, and fear like nothing I’ve ever felt shudders through me. Opening their mouths, the Highborns shriek the shrill cry of the banshee and a horrible shadow stretches out from the hair-raising sound, drowning me in a sea of gloom.