Burned

hurled herself into my arms. I caught her, and, as she yelled, “Yippee!” she soaked into my soul.

Laughing, I spread my arms again. Joy and strength allowed me to accept the last of my missing soul—compassion.

“A-ya, I need you back, too,” I called into the grove.

The Cherokee maid stepped gracefully from the tree line. “A-de- lv, sister, I am glad to hear you call my name.

“Yeah, well, I can honestly say I’m glad to have you as part of me. I accept you, A-ya. Totally. Will you come back?”

“I’ve been here all along. All you had to do was ask.”

I met her halfway and hugged her hard, bringing her back to me, and in turn, bringing myself back.

“Now, let’s see who’s a weak little girl,” I said, hurrying back to Kalona’s arena.

I stepped to the edge and looked down. Stark was on his knees again. The sight of him squeezed my heart. My Guardian looked awful. His lips were swollen and split wide in a bunch of places. His nose had been smashed crooked and was oozing blood. His left shoulder was a shapeless, dislocated mess, leaving his arm dangling limply at his side. The beautiful sword was lying on the ground, just out of his reach. I could see that the bones of one foot and a kneecap had been shattered, but still Stark struggled along on the ground at Kalona’s feet, hopelessly trying to move closer toward his claymore.

Kalona was hefting his spear as if he was testing the balance of it and studied Stark. “A broken Guardian for a shattered girl. It seems you two fit better together now,” he said.

And that seriously pissed me off.

“You have no idea how tired I am of your crap, Kalona,” I said.

Both of their heads snapped up. I didn’t look away from Kalona, but I could feel Stark’s grin.

“Go back to the grove, Zoey,” Kalona said. “It is better for you there.”

“You know what I really hate? Guys trying to tell me what to do.”

“Yep, my queen, that’s what Heath said.” The grin was in Stark’s voice now, and I had to look at him.

I met his battered gaze, and the pride in me I saw reflected there made my eyes fill with tears. “My Warrior . . .” I whispered to him.

That one instant—my one small mistake—was enough for Kalona. I heard him say, “You should have chosen to return to the grove.” I saw Stark’s eyes widen, and as my gaze flew back to the immortal, Kalona spun around, his right arm stretched back like an ancient warrior god. He released the spear with a burst of strength and speed that I knew I couldn’t—

“No!” I screamed. “Come to me, air!” I leaped into the arena, trusting the element to cushion me, but even as I felt the current catch me, I saw it was too late.

Kalona’s spear struck Stark in the middle of his chest. It traveled through his body, the barbs in the spear shank catching his rib cage and hurling him backward with such momentum that he was impaled against the far wall of the arena with sickening force.

My feet touched the ground, and I was already running to Stark. I reached him, and his gaze met mine. He was still alive!

“Don’t die! Don’t die! I can fix this. I have to be able to fix this.”

Unbelievably, he smiled. “That’s right. My queen won’t let anything shatter her again. Collect your debt, and let’s go home.”

Stark closed his eyes and, with a smile on his broken lips, I watched his body convulse once. Bloody air bubbles foamed around the spear in his chest, and suddenly there was no movement, no sound from him at all. My Warrior was dead.

This time when I faced the being who had just killed someone I loved, I didn’t give in to horror and pain. This time I kept spirit close to me instead of hurling it away, and from it I drew the power of knowledge and let instincts, and not guilt and despair, guide me.

Kalona shook his head. “I wish this could have ended differently. Had you listened to me, accepted me, it would have,” he said.

“Glad to hear you agree with me, ’cause this is going to end differently,” I said. Before I started toward him I picked up Stark’s sword. It was heavier than I thought it was going to be, but it was still warm from Stark’s hand, and that warmth helped me find the strength to lift it.

Kalona’s smile was almost kind. “I won’t fight you. That is my gift to you.” He unfurled his great wings. “Goodbye, Zoey. I will miss you and think of you often.”

“Air, don’t let him leave.” I flung the element at him. His fully spread wings were easily caught, and a mighty gust of wind pinned them against the wall of the arena, eerily mirroring Stark’s final pose.

I walked up to him and, with no hesitation, drove the claymore through his chest.

“That’s for Stark. I know this won’t kill you, but it sure as hell feels good to do it,” I said. “And I know he’ll appreciate it.”

Kalona’s eyes glinted dangerously. “You cannot hold me here forever. And when you finally release me, I will make you pay for this.”

“Okay, see, just like Stark said—you’re wrong. Again. There are different rules in the Otherworld, so I probably could keep you here forever, if I wanted to stay and turn into Crazy Vengeance Girl, but here’s the deal: I already almost turned into one kind of crazy girl. I’m not so much interested in doing that again. Plus, I want to go home. So, here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna pay me the life debt you owe me for killing my consort, Heath Luck, by bringing Stark back to me. Then Stark and me, we’re going home. Oh, and by the way, I don’t care where you’ll be going.”

“You’ve gone mad. I cannot bring the dead back to life.”

“In this case, I think you can. Stark’s body is safe back in the real world, along with mine. We’re in the Otherworld, and it’s all about spirit here. You’re an immortal, which means you’re all about spirit. So you’re gonna take some of your immortal spirit and share it with my Guardian. And bring him back to me. Now. Because you owe it to me. Do you get it? I claim the debt, and it’s time you paid up.”

“You don’t have the power to make me,” Kalona said.

She does not, but I do.

The disembodied words settled down into the arena. I recognized the sound of Nyx’s voice immediately and looked around expectantly, trying to see her. It was Kalona who found her, though. He was staring over my shoulder with an expression that utterly changed his face. It took me a second to recognize it. He’d looked at me with lust, with possessiveness, and even with what he’d called love. But he’d been wrong. He didn’t love me. Kalona loved Nyx.

I followed his gaze and turned to see the Goddess standing beside Stark’s body. One of her hands rested tenderly on his head.

“Nyx!” the immortal’s voice sounded broken and surprisingly young. “My Goddess!”

Nyx’s eyes lifted from Stark’s body, but she didn’t look at Kalona. The Goddess looked at me. She smiled, and everything within me was suffused in joy.

“Merry meet, Zoey.”

I grinned, and bowed my head. “Merry meet, Nyx.”

“You’ve done well, daughter. You’ve made me proud of you again.”

“It took me too long,” I said. “I’m sorry about that.”

Her gaze was unwaveringly kind. “As always with you, as with many of my strongest daughters, it is yourselves you should be forgiving. There is no need to ask it of me.”

“And what of me?” Kalona rasped. “Will you ever forgive me?”

The Goddess looked at him. Her eyes were sad, but the set of her mouth was