Page 87 of Storm of Blood and Shadow

“Grimmaw once mentioned something like that, but there’s no way to know where it is… unless… fuck… unless…”

He’s looking away from me, going deep into his thoughts. I seize his face between my hands and bring it back around to me. “No. Don’t do this again. Tell me what you’re thinking—I want to hear it all. No secrets.”

“I’ve been wondering if coming to this island was never my idea.” There’s a wild light in his eyes, an awakening realization. “I’ve wondered if the Mordvorren brought me here because it’s stronger in this place, because it’s communing with whatever lies beneath this island—the source of the smell that I hate, the one I could never identify. I told Kyreagan it smells like a dozen familiar things, but it also smells like death and decay, even though it isn’t dead. I told him it smells like my nightmares. Something split this island in two, Jessiva. Something old. And whatever it is, the Mordvorren felt that its presence would provide greater leverage over me.”

“The Mordvorren’s foothold within you is connected to your mother’s death,” I interject, excitement quickening my heartbeat. “And the presence that you felt, the one that made your guilt and fear so much worse—it’s intimately linked to that event.”

“It’s the original core,” he says. “It’s under this fucking island.”

“Destroy it, and you can set yourself free,” I exclaim, and at the same moment he says, “I can set her spirit free.”

We stare at each other, breathless, horrified and thrilled, our emotions perfectly synchronized in a way they haven’t been since we met.

“The Mordvorren has been keeping me from shifting,” Varex confesses. “It’s been holding my magic captive.”

“You already cracked its hold once, to catch me when I fell. You can do this. And I’m coming with you.”

“You’ll have to. The safest place for you will be on my back.” Gently he lifts me off his lap and discards his clothes, which were already torn from his struggle to shift earlier. “Let’s see if I can control the shift this time.”

I step back, fists curled tight, my heart pounding.

“I defied the Mordvorren before, when I first swallowed it,” he says. “I was able to do it because I was saving your life, and I had clarity of purpose. My purpose has never been clearer than it is now. I can do this.”

His body tenses, as if he’s about to attempt it, and I say sharply, “Varex.”

He glances at me, surprised.

“I just want you to know that you are the most charming, sweet, interesting, and generous soul I’ve ever met. I’m glad you heard me scream on that rooftop. I’m glad you took me and kept me. And I love you more than any other living thing in this fucking world.”

My voice cracks over the last two words. Tears shine in his eyes, but he gives me a smile that’s all gleaming fangs and triumph.

“I told you I’d become one of the people you love,” he says.

And with that, he shifts seamlessly, gloriously, into the form of the black dragon.

I can’t help smiling, because I know that the ease of the shift was partly because I make him stronger, better, braver. And he does the same for me.

“On my back, darling,” he says, crouching low. “Hold on like your life depends on it.”

“Is the Mordvorren resisting you?” I ask.

“It’s beginning to,” he replies. “I think if I can get high enough, it won’t be able to stop me. Altitude seems to weaken it.But I can’t go too high, or my aim won’t be accurate enough—and you won’t be able to breathe.”

“You worry about digging out that voratrice motherfucker,” I tell him. “I’ll worry about holding on, and I’ll tell you if we go too high and I can’t breathe. Give me a moment.”

I stuff some of the supplies I brought into the trusty bag I’ve carried for the past several weeks. It used to be an attractive satchel made of heavy cloth, with several interior pockets and a flap I could secure with buttons. Now it’s stained, smudged, and shapeless, its surface abraded in a few places. But it still has no holes, and it always has space for what I need.

After slinging the bag onto my back, I take a length of rope from among the supplies I brought. Before we left the capital, Kyreagan and I stopped by the palace and the people there gave me whatever I requested, including candles, food, blankets, and clothing. Now I’m glad one of them suggested rope as well. With it, I manage to tie myself to Varex’s back more or less securely.

The rest of the supplies will probably be destroyed tonight, along with most of the island. It’s a small price to pay for Varex’s freedom.

“I’m ready,” I tell him. “Let’s crack open a monster and set your mother’s spirit free.”

26

I know the limits of my own magic.

But my magic is twined with the power of the Mordvorren now, and I plan to take full advantage of that. Rahzien was partly right when he said that instead of clashing with it headlong, I should work alongside it. Except I’m not convincing it to align with me; I’m outright stealing its magic, just like it stole mine when it sent Jessiva off the cliff.

---