Page 90 of Ivy & Bone

Prue loved him. And if she couldn’t survive this, at least she would be with him. He was the god of the dead. Even if she died, she would still find a way to be with him.

Was that enough, though? Could Prue be happy with only Cyrus . . . but not her sister?

Was there truly no way to have both?

Just finish the mission, Prue thought. Finish it, and you can worry about all this later.

Because if she didn’t cross over to the Underworld right now, she would be tempted to stay here with Mona and damn the consequences. It had to happen now.

The ghosts still hovered above them, circling like vultures. At any second, one might dive down and latch onto one of them, possessing their bodies entirely.

Yes. It had to happen now. The spirits had been here long enough.

Swallowing the lump of emotion in her throat, Prue took a deep breath and followed Cyrus deeper into the rubble. Even through the storm, she could sense the power rumbling from the Book of Eyes. Somehow, it had dodged the destruction of everything that had transpired. Despite the rain, the pages remained completely dry. But Prue shouldn’t have been surprised. This book could never be destroyed, and it appeared of its own volition.

It really did have a mind of its own. And the thought made Prue shudder.

Cyrus stood next to the book, gazing down at it with a cold smile. For a moment, Prue just watched him, wracking her brain to discern what about him was different. Right here and now, he seemed like a stranger to her. None of that taunting gleam in his eyes, the smirk he reserved for her, the heated look they shared . . .

It’s fine, Prue told herself, though she didn’t believe it. It must be the lingering magic or the closeness of the gate that’s affecting him. That’s all.

Cyrus extended a hand to her, and Prue took it, trying to ignore the strange chill that swept over her at his touch. This was nothing like the scorching fire she felt when they touched the night before. No, this felt like the touch of death itself.

“Open,” Cyrus hissed, his voice like a trickle of sand amidst the crackling thunder.

The book opened on its own, the pages flipping in the wind. Light burned from within, intensifying until Prue had to cram her eyes shut against the force of it.

Then, the book began screaming. Prue gritted her teeth, loathing the sound with every fiber of her being. Why in the Goddess’s name did it always have to scream?

The howling spirits joined in, creating a cacophony of anguished cries that chilled Prue to the bone. A tickle of awareness brushed along her skin, and she knew the spirits were being pulled back into the book. She kept her eyes shut tight, resisting the urge to watch. She didn’t need to see this. Just feeling it made her stomach churn.

The air around her spun with a sickening intensity that made her want to vomit. When the wind settled, Prue finally opened her eyes. The light from within the book faded, as did the screaming. Cyrus’s grip on her hand tightened, and, without warning, he tugged her forward until they fell.

But they didn’t meet the ground. Instead, they fell through the book as if it were, indeed, a portal. Darkness surrounded Prue. She tried screaming, but no sound escaped her. Instead, she focused on the feel of Cyrus’s cold hand in hers, even if it made her skin crawl with apprehension. The world spun, and Prue’s stomach dropped. Nausea roiled inside her, threatening to rise up, but she bit down and swallowed hard, forcing herself to relax, to let the darkness take her.

At long last, Prue’s feet met solid ground, and she gasped out, finding her breath at last. Her heart hammered in her chest as she took in her surroundings.

She stood in a dark, damp cave. Rocky walls enclosed around them, and a glistening silver river snaked through the ground, providing a faint light for them to see by. Her breath caught in her throat as she gazed at the wispy souls floating along the river. Goddess, they were magnificent . . . and also frightening at the same time. They were pearly and striking, just like the ghosts in the mortal realm. But these weren’t shaped like figures; they resembled swirling orbs, almost like stars in the night sky.

They were beautiful. Breathtaking, even. Prue was almost tempted to draw nearer and touch one, just to see if it felt as silky and smooth as it looked.

Only then did she realize Cyrus was no longer beside her. Prue straightened, scanning the cave. Alarm filled her chest, screaming at her that something was wrong.

“Cyrus?” she called, her voice bouncing off the cave walls. She whirled, only to find herself utterly and completely alone. “Cyrus!”

In a flash, he was there, a malicious smile spreading across his face. Prue’s blood ran cold as she stared into his eyes.

They were all black.

“Hello, darling,” he murmured, but it wasn’t his voice at all. It was something else entirely.

Prue tried summoning her magic, but nothing happened. She searched inside herself, only to find a cold and empty void of nothingness.

No, she thought in horror.

“Apologies, dearest,” Cyrus said. “But I had to take your magic. You see, just as you had control over my powers in your realm . . . now I have control over yours.” His teeth flashed as his smile widened. “And now, you are my prisoner.”

EPILOGUE

---