The Deathsinger: Book 2

Ch. 17: The Problem with Dreams

"What happened to letting the people choose?"

I was proud of how steady my voice remained. Not a single wobble to give away how utterly terrified I was right now. Not so much for myself, but for Yoko. She had thrown away her entire life for me, and it was not right that it ended this way.

Mafta waved the torch in the air, leaving a blazing trail of orange against the black night sky. "They will. One by one the leaders of the present clans will approach. If they believe you to be guilty, they will light a fire. When the last fire is lit, you will die."

Yoko snarled and snapped her teeth at the cat shifter. "When? Why go through this farce if you've rigged it?"

"It is not rigged," Mafta explained, lowering the torch and lighting the first fire. "I simply know the hearts of the people, and they have waited many years for this day."

She grinned and passed the torch to an approaching elf. Unlike Mafta, Calliope, and Cleo, his race was not immediately evident, but like the cyote shifters, he wore a black collar, and his eyes were empty as he touched the flame to the next bonfire in the line.

"I'm sorry, my love," I whispered to Yoko as we watched each elf repeat the process without hesitation.

"You are not giving up."

"What would you like me to do? I cannot touch my power without pain. I suppose it's one way to render myself unconscious, so I do not feel the pain when we die, but I would never leave you to suffer alone."

"Touching as that is," Yoko replied, her eyes constantly searching over the rising fire. "I would prefer neither of us burn. We had plans tonight. Do you remember?"

A bolt of heat far greater than what the flames produced shot through me, and I chuckled as I hung my head. "Only we would be upset that our sex lives were interrupted by dying."

"Of course." Yoko leaned across the gap between the poles and pressed her dampening forehead against mine. "But hear me now...I claim this in your land and before your gods, we will die together. One day. Many centuries from now, when our bones are brittle and our hair is gray. And if the gods have any love for us, it will happen while we are wrapped in one another's arms. But it will not happen today."

Overwhelmed, I kissed her hard enough to taste the blood and smoke on her lips. She returned it with equal fervor before pulling away, eyes closed, and head tilted to expose her face to the skies. A ripple of magic skittered over her skin. It was so weak and pale I would not have noticed it if I was not so in tune with her body.

For a few moments, it appeared as if that was all she could muster, but then, one by one, the fires weakened and flames turned to steam. Mafta snarled and snatched the torch away, pressing it to one of the extinguished bonfires. But no matter how she tried, she could not relight the now wet wood.

Yoko slumped forward as her legs gave out, and I met Mafta's fury with a cruel smile of my own.

"It would seem some hearts are stronger than others," I told her.

Fur sprouted over her arms, and her limbs cracked and twisted as she took the shape of a panther. But where the others were inky black with golden eyes, she was a great white beast. With black rimmed red eyes and the stench of rot clinging to her fangs as launched herself onto the platform.

"What have you done?" I whispered in horror as she stalked toward me. Something about her reminded me of another twisted creature. The Banshee that attacked us at the Crossroads.

"Whatever it took," Mafta responded, her words ill formed and guttural. "Just like now."

She raised a paw to swipe her claws across my throat, but a bolt of crackling green light whooshed over my shoulder, striking her in the face. The black drained from her eyes, and in the second before they closed forever, I saw relief and gratitude. Then she collapsed with a thud that rattled the wooden planks beneath our feet.