Stolen Page 21

  You can and you will, Nat who is nothing like a gnat. I can promise you that.

  With those last words, his voice faded from her head one last time.

  Nat felt tears running down her cheeks.

  Good-bye, Faix.

  “I’m sorry,” said Wes. “I know he was your friend.”

  She nodded. So many friends had been lost today. She would remember them all, write their names in her heart, each one a memory of a true sacrifice.

  • • •

  “Where are we going?” she asked as the ferry began to move beneath her.

  “Wherever you need to go,” replied Wes, still holding her close. They stood by the railing together and watched the temple city burn in the distance.

  Nat told him what Faix had told her. “He thinks the Queen stole the wrong child,” she said to Wes. “That you are the child of Vallonis. Your magic is the ability to dispel magic—you have an immunity to its workings.”

  “As I am the opposite of my sister?” He shook his head.

  This was their strange reality now.

  Nat touched his cheek with her fingers. “You will be the one who can recover the palimpsest.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Well, I am extraordinarily talented.”

  “You know what this means?” she asked, pushing her lips up to his ear.

  He shook his head.

  “That you and I belong together,” she whispered. She pulled back her head, smiling. The girl from the Blue and the boy from New Vegas. “See, Wes? You kept your promise. You came back to me.”

  “You just want me to kiss you again,” he teased with a laugh.

  “So what if I do?”

  “Happy to oblige,” he said, and so he did.

  He was still kissing her when it happened.

  His face changed, turning gray, and his body began to convulse uncontrollably, blood seeping out of his eyes, his nose, his mouth, and he collapsed in her arms.

  “Ryan!” she screamed. “Ryan, what’s happening?” she asked. Her friends crowded close to her. Shakes was yelling, Liannan was waving her arms, Brendon and Roark were by her side, catching her, breaking her fall as she struggled underneath the dead weight.

  “Get him water!” Roark yelled, while Brendon wanted hot towels and Liannan chanted healing incantations.

  But Nat remained frozen in fear.

  For she knew what this was.

  This was the price.

  Wes had saved her from Eliza’s spell, but at what cost?

  Magic has a tithe. Faix had taught her that much.

  Magic was like any other kind of energy: When used, it had to be replenished, or it could be strained to its breaking point. It had limits, and Wes had met his.

  She could almost hear Faix sending the words. Everyone must pay. None are exempt. The sun rises and the moon sets. The oak breathes out what the wren breathes in.

  Nat began to sob, her tears falling on his face, as he shuddered and twitched and finally his body stopped shaking, his skin was gray and she could not see if he was breathing.

  It was as if everything that was happening all around her was happening so slowly. Wes was lying on the deck of the ferryboat, and Shakes was pounding on his chest, trying to jump-start his heart, while Liannan breathed into his mouth.

  I should be doing that, Nat thought dully. I should be breathing life into him.

  But somehow she knew that it wouldn’t matter.

  That no matter what she did, Wes would still be cold and gray.

  This couldn’t be happening. Not to Wes. Not when they had finally found each other again. She could save him. She had saved him before. Her love was stronger than this. “You’re not dead. You can’t die. Wes. No. This isn’t how this ends. This isn’t the end for us,” she said fiercely, holding his limp body in her arms.

  But there was no time to mourn.

  “NAT!” Roark screamed, pointing to the sky.

  She glanced up.

  Drakon Mainas was soaring above them, and had unleashed a roar of flame directed at their boat. It lit the bow on fire, and Shakes and Farouk moved quickly to put it out.

  MAINAS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? STOP THIS!

  Then she saw. A white-robed figure sat astride the drakon.

  Eliza. She had somehow used her power to survive the fall and to hide from Wes.

  There are other ways to steal drakonfire. Eliza smiled. Give my brother my regards in hell.

  It was another illusion. It had to be. Eliza was playing with their minds again, making them believe something that wasn’t true.

  She called to Mainas.

  But there was no answer, and the black drakon continued to dive and roar, lighting fires as quickly as her friends could put them out.

  MAINAS! TO ME! But it was no use, and all she heard in her head was white noise, a blanket, muffled, just like the garbled call from Liannan. Her bond with her drakon had been compromised. The connection between her and the great beast was weakened. What happened?

  “The iron bomb,” Liannan said. “It poisoned your drakon, fraying the bonds between you. It allowed her to be able to command it. It thinks she is you.”

  “And it’s not the least of our problems,” said Shakes, looking up at the sky.

  Nat followed his gaze. Drones streaked through the air, howling through the gray clouds. Then another rumble, not a drone but something else.

  A shell exploded in the air above them and a tank rolled into view, into the blasted streets of New Kandy. The treads slowed, the motor idled. A hatch opened and a figure emerged.

  A boy wearing army gray peered at them through thick goggles. He tore off his helmet and pulled down his goggles, and they were confronted by a familiar face with short platinum hair they called “drau style” back in New Vegas.

  Avo Hubik. The Slob. The onetime slaver had returned to the army. Behind him, more soldiers approached, along with two more familiar faces. Daran and Zedric Slaine, with sneers upon their faces. Back from the dead and ready to take revenge on the crew who had wronged them. More armored vehicles rolled into the streets of the city as a fleet of drones darted through the air.

  Her drakon was stolen. Wes lay dying in her arms. And the military had arrived to recover its base.

  Now it was all up to Nat, to steal back the victory they had worked so hard to win.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  We’d like to thank all the wonderful people who made this book possible, starting with our lovely and wise editor, Jennifer Besser, and publisher, Don Weisberg, along with everyone at awesome TEAM PENGUIN, especially the crack editorial team who helped us make our deadline: Arianne Lewin, Katherine Perkins, Kate Meltzer and Anne Heausler—we are truly grateful for your diligence and dedication to the series. Thanks for saving these two freezing iceholes from plummeting into the void. Big kisses to Elyse Marshall, Anna Jarzab, Shauna Rossano, Emily Romero, Erin Berger, Courtney Wood, Erin Toller, Scottie Bowditch, and Felicia Frazier and her amazing team of sales reps. We are so lucky to have you guys on our side!

  Thank you to our agents, Richard Abate and Melissa Kahn at 3Arts, who make sure the lights are always on at our house(s).

  Thank you to Steve Stone for the amazing new covers.

  Thank you to our dear friend Margie Stohl for all the supportive words and for just being brilliant in every way. Thank you to all our fabulous friends in New York and Los Angeles—we would name you all, but only Margie helped with the book. Thank you to our families.

  Thank you to our readers who have thrilled to Nat and Wes’s story, thank you for your tweets, GIFs, Tumblrs, e-mails, Facebook likes, Goodreads reviews, and crazy enthusiasm for the series. See you at the grand finale!

  © Denise Bovee

  Melissa de la Cruz is the New York Times, USA Today, Wall Street Journal, Los Angeles Times
and Publishers Weekly internationally bestselling author of many critically acclaimed novels. Her Blue Bloods series has sold over three million copies and her Witches of East End series is now an hour-long television drama on the Lifetime network.

  © Lennon

  Michael Johnston is Melissa’s husband and co-creator of the Blue Bloods and Witches of East End series. Melissa and Michael live with their daughter in Los Angeles and Palm Springs, California.

  www.melissa-delacruz.com

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