The Witch Queen of Halloween

Hours later, they lay on the dust cover on the floor, spent. Poppy had her head on Rök’s chest as he lazily threaded his fingers through her hair.

After indulging in another couple of rounds, they’d shared her apple muffin and some ideas for the future, then they’d set back in.

Eventually she’d begged no more, and still he made her come again. They’d broken the divan, so they’d moved to the floor with a vow to buy a stronger one for their new house.

This demon actually had been saving his coin very well. If she desired a mansion near her family with the biggest kitchen they could find, he’d purchase it today.

But all idylls must end. “As much as I’m enjoying this,” he said, voice husky from his bellows, “I don’t want to be late for the castle’s grand opening.”

When Poppy leaned up, his attention stole to his mark on her neck, pride and relief filling him. Already her regeneration was healing it, but the mark would remain forever.

“Me neither.” Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. Their lovemaking had chased away her worries, leaving him with a merry witch.

The storm had ended, and moonlight streamed through the windows to bathe her skin as she rose. Watching her don her clothes was nearly as sexy as her stripping them off.

He was about to kiss her again, but the stakes were too high. He rose to dress as well. “Maybe we should have made our way to the foyer and then attacked each other there.”

She glanced at her watch. “Moonset’s in two hours. Without the visitors dogging our every step, we should be okay.”

He didn’t understand how she’d quelled her curse, but they would figure out everything together. We have time.

Strapping on her satchel, she added, “Besides, we were living in the moment! Would you take back what just happened on that poor piece of furniture? Rest in pieces, divan.”

They shared a grin. Fuck, he was going to love life with her. They’d talked about having kids eventually, but for now, she wanted Rök all to herself. He felt the same about her, so she would drink a tea upon their return, and he would use a contraceptive charm going forward. . . .

Hand in hand, they left the ballroom with a last look. This was the place where they’d become Poppy and Rök, the mated pair, yet they would never see it again in all their immortal lives.

Outside, they carefully threaded their way back through the maze, taking in the aftereffects of Rök’s bruising battle.

Entering the castle once more, they paused long enough to settle on a likely direction—they couldn’t exactly retrace their original path—then set off through the endless hallways, turn after turn. Rök still hadn’t scented the other explorers, which meant Raven’s Murk would keep that secret for now. He and Poppy saw no signs of visitors, as expected, but loud knocks sounded from the direction of the lab.

The creature.

Poppy asked, “You think it knows the castle won’t open again for decades?”

“Maybe. But I don’t believe it can get loose.”

“Good. I can’t imagine that thing out in the world.”

As they navigated their way through the labyrinthine halls, she checked her watch again, appearing stressed. “I’m reminded of all those horror movie characters who have sex, and it ends up coming back to haunt them. Maybe we should have headed to the foyer first. Did we make a fatal mistake?”

“We’ll get there before moonset.” Giving it a second thought, he said, “Let’s leg it, just in case.”

They did. With each double back, they picked up the pace even more, until they were sprinting along corridors. Their finish line wasn’t just freedom from this place. It was the start of their existence together.

They ran for that life . . . reaching the foyer where it’d all begun—with only a quarter of an hour to spare.

Heading to a front window, they gazed out. “No sign of the ghouls,” Rök said. “Do you still have an ominous sense?”

Catching her breath, she said, “What I’m feeling for you kind of overwhelms everything, so I don’t even know up from down.” His arm found its way around her at that. “To be fair, I once experienced foreboding just because Clove had a wicked case of heartburn.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough.” He noticed Poppy looked excited but also tired. “You must be exhausted.” He kept forgetting she was only a hundred. At her age, he’d required sleep every twenty-four hours. She’d fueled curses and fought for her life all night, so maybe he ought not to have ravished her so many times? “My young mate.”

She tilted her face up to him. “When you look at me all tender like that, I’m defenseless.”

He pressed a lingering kiss to her lips. “Why don’t you rest a bit?” He led her over to a nearby settee. “I’ll stand watch.”

She sat, retrieving the journal from her bag. “What a night.” She opened the book, skimming pages.

“Never had a stranger—or better—one.” Even so, he was ready for it to end. Rök turned back to the window, hungering for dawn.

As he kept vigil, light effects and breezes made the terrain appear to shift. How differently he viewed this place now that he better understood the tragic history. The Ending of Everything. Over his shoulder, he asked, “Anything else interesting in that journal?”

“Most of the pages have blood on them. My sister Sage can clean it up once we get loose. But I did read something strange: Nightside is real. I found it! All the answers lie in Nightside. Have you ever heard of that place?”

“Sounds familiar.” Hadn’t his parents told him about a realm one did not ever want to visit? The answer was on the tip of his tongue when a different kind of light drew his attention to the cemetery. Instead of the coming daybreak, he spied . . . a growing green blaze.

Ghouls had amassed, and not just the wife and kids. Seven more had joined them. A true troop.

The Valkyries kept their numbers in check in populated areas, but out here, nothing had tamped down the swell. As long as that troop stayed away, he and Poppy would be okay⁠—

The green mass started toward the castle. Fantastic. One scratch or a mere fang graze spelled doom, and a ghoul’s entire reason for being was to infect others.

As they neared, he made out other details. Recognition hit, and his stomach clenched. Poppy’s foreboding had been bang-on. These were no ordinary ghouls.

Trying to sound casual, he said, “So do you think the tracing ban will lift as soon as the door opens?” Even if those ghouls rushed in, Rök might be able to teleport her without a fight.

She glanced up from the journal. “No. I think all the spells will remain. Nothing should change except for the door opening. But you can trace me from the steps outside.”

He would need a foot or so of clearance for both of them. If the ghouls charged the door, would he have enough time to strike them down before it closed again? “How long do you think it takes a raven to call four times?”

“It’s a big debate on the message boards. A lot of members believe magic must dictate the bird’s actions, and now we know”—she held up the journal—“that the wizard used it to call his kids in from play. If I had to guess, I’d say the raven caws every few seconds or so, mimicking the rhythm of a bell tower.”

So . . . a handful of seconds? Regardless, Rök couldn’t bet their lives on speculation.

He weighed his options.

Scenario one: not enough intel, likely mission failure. Can’t risk her.

Scenario two: mission failure.

Scenario three: supreme mission failure.

Once he’d exhausted dozens of possibilities, he stared off at his future in disbelief. Poppy and I aren’t making it out alive together.

“How wild is it that we’ll soon lay one more mystery to rest?” she said.

That wasn’t all they’d be laying to rest. Or, rather, to unrest.

She began musing aloud where they should get breakfast—“I’m thinking beignets and chicory coffee”—not noticing his tension.

Even as he monitored the threat skulking closer, he treasured her happy chatter. He wanted this taste of normalcy for just a little longer.

After searching for his mate for more than a thousand years, he’d claimed her, and she’d taken control of her curse. For a brief moment, he’d been able to envision their lives together. Talking over meals. Making love. Mercenary gigs as an indomitable team. Halfling pups.

Yes. Enjoy this taste. “So where would you like to live?” he asked, keeping his cool, even as he knew what he’d have to do.

These are my last minutes—as me.

“I’m not picky. As long as you’re there, it’s home.”

His eyes squeezed shut. Her heartfelt words pained him so badly that she might as well have struck him.

Cade had once described what being separated from Holly felt like: a huge hole through the chest that never healed. Exactly, friend. Rök wished he could send a message to Cade to watch over Poppy and safeguard her through the Accession.

“Where are you taking me after this, demon? I wouldn’t mind freshening up before beignets. Oh! I want to see your new place. Is your shower big enough for two?”

Yes, it is. More delights they would forfeit.

She must’ve noticed his disquiet. He could all but hear her frown. “Am I overstepping? I mean, you did say you never want to be separated from me again.”

He swallowed thickly, not trusting himself to speak.

“Oh, Hecate, are you regretting things?”

He turned to her. “Never. But . . . we have a problem.” He gestured to the window.

Poppy shoved the journal into her bag and hurried to his side. Her eyes widened at the sight of the incoming ghouls. “Those are the explorers.”

“So they are.”

The six fey archers and the rage demon had likely made it to the grand opening—after all, few dangers existed within the castle for those who weren’t cursed—only to be turned right when freedom was in reach. Had the mother ghoul done it?

“I recognize those tattoos,” Poppy said. “That’s Truller the Victor. Or it was.”

“Gotta be honest, I’m not a fan of his glow-up.” The legendary demon was now a yellow-eyed monster.

“The ghouls that the Valkyries make sport of are all former humans. Do you think these ghouls retained their strength and speed?”

“I’ve seen similar ones on distant planes. The fey will still be as quick, the demon as strong. Think super ghouls.”

“How were they not found? The best trackers in the Lore searched for them.”

“They must’ve gotten lost in the wilderness. It’s some of the most inhospitable terrain this realm has to offer.” Or had they crossed over into another realm—the one of the undead—only to return now?

“Why didn’t Truller teleport home when he was struck?”

“Depending on the strength of the infecting ghoul, the contagion can work quickly.” A detail Rök had factored into his calculations. “Truller might have wanted to spare loved ones. But what’s brought them back here tonight?”

“Maybe the only two living people for hundreds of miles. Rök, they’ll stop at nothing to turn us. What are we going to do?”

“When the door opens, I’ll attack. You’ll follow, grabbing my back as I trace.”

“No, absolutely not.”

“I’m going to annihilate them, Poppy. You saw me fight the visitors. Unlike them, these ghouls can be killed.”

“There’s not a doubt in my mind that you can take them down. But avoiding a single scratch isn’t possible.” She studied his expression, and her lips parted. “Oh, Hecate, you know you’re going to get scratched.”

“Not saying it won’t be risky, but I’ve faced worse odds for much less upside.”

“No! You’ll turn.” Her eyes went wild. “Think about what you’re saying.”

He had. “I’m open to ideas, but I’ve run down all the possibilities.” Each scenario ended with one outcome: Rök would become undead.

“You told me noble wouldn’t happen again!” Her gaze darted around the foyer. “Use the closet door as a shield, then we barrel forward.”

“A demon as strong as Truller will punch the door, breaking it. I’ll be holding pieces of wood instead of a sword. If we lose an inch of ground, which we will with an inswing door and Truller shoving, the fey will swarm in behind him faster than we can blink. Then you get clawed. Unacceptable mission failure.”

“So we let them in and fight them here. You’re mated now and will be stronger than ever. I’ll fashion some kind of weapon.”

“The only way to outpace a fey is to teleport, which I can’t do inside this place. And we have no idea when the door will close. I won’t risk you based on message board speculation.”

Sounding panicked, she said, “What about a trap?”

“Castle’s about to open.”

“Then we stay here!” She nodded frantically. “You asked me where I want to live? I lied; I am picky. I want to live here with you for the next twenty or so years. We can use the time to plan for when the door opens next. Listen to me, Rök, I’m in love with this castle. I can’t live without it.”

She was telling him she loved him. He could play along. “My heart is a hundred percent committed to this plan to save you, Red. I’ll be devoted to it for the rest of my life.”

She understood him, expression going soft.

Then it hardened. “Staying here is our only option. Worst case: we’re stuck for two decades, a blink of an eye for an immortal. Best case: my sisters will figure out how to open this place.”

“And if they can’t? What if they come on the next Halloween moon? That same troop might greet them, if it isn’t even larger. In the meantime, you would have wasted away to nothing.”

“I’m old enough to revive.”

“Before I watch you suffer like that, I’d rather be undead.” Which was no longer his worst fear. He recalled his bafflement that Cade might choose Holly over the fate of an entire kingdom. Now Rök understood.

I would sacrifice anything for Poppy. His life? Of course.

“But you’ll leave me to watch you turn?”

“There’s no other way. This castle isn’t safe. Once the lack of food hit, we’d be defenseless. What if that creature gets the door combination right? And if you aren’t conscious to mute your curse, the visitors will descend upon us again.”

She started to argue more, but he said, “Poppy, there’s no special tea here. If I got you pregnant, how would we keep our babe alive? Even if we could feed a child, would you like to raise it here past its teens?”

Her hand dipped to her belly. Oh, the thoughts swirling behind her eyes . . . There was no argument, and she knew it.

“I’ll take the hits, love. That’s what mates do.”

Her gaze glinted. “Remember how we shuddered at the fate of the wizard’s family? You’ll join them?”

“Use your witchly skills to discover a cure. Concoct something for me to take.”

“No witch has ever formulated a ghoul countermeasure, and many have tried!”

“Yeah, but you’re Poppy. Find some cool plant, and make it work for us.”

She grabbed his arms. “Leave me here. If you got a running start and half-traced, they might not land a strike. Work with my sisters to open the castle.”

“We don’t have time to argue, so I’ll make this simple: I vow to the Lore that you and I are both getting out of here, one way or another, once that door opens.”

An unbreakable vow. “You didn’t.”

“Did. Will do it forever, witch.”

Her bottom lip quivered. Her eyes welled with tears, alight with feeling, and it was gutting him. In a thick voice, she said, “I can’t lose you, Rök. We just found each other.”

He swallowed, swamped with emotion. But he needed to stay frosty to get her free⁠—

Loud footsteps pounded outside. What now? Through the window he spied yet another green creature advancing on the castle, but this one was gargantuan. Must be ten feet tall.

Poppy wiped her eyes and followed his focus. “Great Hecate. I’ve never seen one that big.”

“Neither have I. Not in all my years. Think I know why.”

She gasped. “The word mord was in the wizard’s journal, smudged on each side. He’d seen the primordial.” The oldest and strongest of its kind. “That ghoul outside is the seed of them all.”

Rök whistled low. “The O.G.”

She muttered, “The original ghoul? Oh, Rök, don’t ever change.”

He stifled a wince. He was about to change more than he’d ever imagined. “I bet it turned the previous explorers when they strolled out the door twenty years ago. Talk about a mission hiccup.”

“The wizard wrote that the gateway to an undead realm might be in the vicinity. I think he was right. After all, this primordial came from somewhere.” True. Most immortal species hailed from distant planes.

As the behemoth stalked closer, those super ghouls darted out of its way, regrouping behind it. Yet then it paused in front of the window. It met Rök’s gaze, and he detected . . . a type of sentience in its yellow eyes. Extending an arm, it grasped for something with those lethal claws.

New blood, no doubt. And Rök knew it was about to get its wish.

Would turning hurt? Turning. Such an innocuous word for dying. Yet even as these morbid thoughts raced, he only felt fear for Poppy.

The primordial stomped toward the stairs. Outside the door, it roared with anticipation, yet it didn’t try to force its way in.

Did it sense the boundary, or did it somehow . . . know about it?

Would Rök know his fate? Will I know I love Poppy but still be compelled to hurt her?

Clutching his hand, she said, “This changes everything. Rescind your vow. We stay.”

He faced her. “All I have to do is keep you protected long enough for me to trace us.”

She looked aghast. “You’re not even going to try to avoid being scratched?”

He opened his arms to her. “That’s not the mission, love.”