A familiar surge of anticipation rippled like ocean waves as the Veil washed over me, just as it had minutes ago when we knelt over Jackie's body, but whatever had touched my mind then was now silent. No mysterious presence stood ready to guide us.

Caratacos inhaled dramatically, basking in the soothing warmth of her spell. Even without his reaction I knew he was mending, because some of it had touched me as well, and a little of the pain in my limbs receded, but it was only a push. Bones were still crushed, muscles still torn, and I remained helpless while my father regained his full strength.

"Oh, I'm saving something special for you, darlin'," he crowed, probing his chest where fairy bullets had recently torn through the skin. "Might even take you easy the first time."

Katherine had come around and was hugging Becca, who had collapsed in tears.

"I tried," she said. "I tried to break the spell on purpose, but I couldn't. It wouldn't work. It's all my stupid fault."

"Nothing's over," I groaned. My father was still distracted and Rachel didn't seem to give a damn about anyone in the room, she just stood by him, waiting for orders. "And nothing is your fault, Becca. No matter what happens here you're a hero."

She once told me that I could be the hero, but she was wrong. Every last misstep from the beginning could be be laid at my feet, all because I tried to dodge my fate, to selfishly cling to the life I'd always wished for. I'd given my father plenty of time to lure us out, and denied Rachel the one thing that might have kept her from returning to him. Now Kennedy was dead, maybe Jackie too, and apart from a miracle I'd soon join them. He'd rape Katherine and Becca until he grew bored and use my blood to start a war with the Fae that could destroy thousands. Maybe millions. He'd have the druid's staff, and Rachel could lead him to the Glim. I couldn't imagine failing more completely than I had. I turned away from the girls and said the only thing I could think of.

"Okay, dad, you win."

"What's that, Boy?"

"I'll join you. I'll help fight the Winter Court."

My father stuck his cigarette in his mouth and scratched at his chest. He'd opened his shirt to get a better look at his mended wounds, revealing a well-muscled torso and a body much younger and more fit than his salt and pepper hair suggested.

"I don't think so," he drawled. "Everyone is pissing themselves about your potential, but I don't see it."

"I can do more than you can," I said as defiantly as I could manage. "I'm still learning."

"Learning what? You think I've been hard on you, boy? There are Fae standing between me and the old cunt that'll snap you in half faster than you could think it. Yeah, your blood would fuck them up, but I don't need your permission to take it."

"What about Mab? You can't stop her without me."

"Maybe, kid, but she's just immortal, not all powerful. If I can wipe out her armies she's got nothing, and that makes your blood more valuable than you are. Don't worry, I need you alive to keep it fresh and the magic strong. You'll see my victory, and before that, you'll watch me pleasure your women until they can't even remember your name."

"You stay away from them," I spat, rage mounting until the pain seemed inconsequential. "Don't you dare lay a finger on them!"

"This again?" Caratacos rolled his eyes and began buttoning up his shirt.

Despite everything Finn and Amy tried to tell me, I had only one ace up my sleeve. I gathered the power writhing in the back of my mind, stirred it up until it threatened to break through my skull, and unleashed it with a scream at the man who had given me life. I felt as though I was lost in a torrential flood of flashing green and utter blackness filling the air with an explosion of light and shadow. An immaterial wind tore at me as it had when Becca bound me to the island, and again when she summoned the trees. It ripped at my thoughts, distorted my perception of the world around me. And then it was gone.

"Is that it?" Caratacos chuckled, unfazed, and tossed the remains of his cigarette into the burning brazier. "I respect that you're making an effort, boy. I might even be proud of you."

The release of power left me weak and dizzy while he barely noticed, and in that desperate moment, with fairy lights sporadically darting through the air, I finally understood why.

It had nothing to do with family. We were both immune to the blood power of a gean canagh, he hadn't lied about that, but my grandmother's was altogether different, not part of his world or mine. It wouldn't matter how much stronger he'd made himself, he couldn't have had a defense against it. But I needed access to his anima to use that particular gift. With women, that access came with trust, but men opened to me in their fear, and my father, the architect of my misery, wasn't afraid of me. Why would he be?

"You sick bastard son of a bitch," another voice, full of tears and rage stepped forward. Katherine had retrieved Kennedy's bat and was advancing on him. Rachel tucked the gun into her jacket pocket and stepped in front of her.

"Sit down before you hurt yourself," she said. Her face was hard again, an emotionless mask.

"You!" Katherine snarled. "You betrayed us!"

"Not before Tom threw me under the bus. I always said you should have let me die."

"It's never too late," Katherine hissed and swung the weapon with every ounce of her strength. Rachel cursed and dodged, but still took a grazing hit to her thigh. Before Katherine could strike again, my father intercepted her, catching the bat in one hand.

"Now, now, ladies, no bickering," he said, effortlessly yanking the weapon out of her grip and pulling her within reach. With his free hand, he grasped a handful of her hair and lifted her off the floor, chuckling at her futile efforts to break free.

"Let her go!" I tried to crawl toward him, but my body wouldn't respond and I ended up flopping to one side, only a few inches closer to my goal. He ignored me.

"You can feel it, can't you?" he said to her. "It's getting under your skin, burning you alive." He moved his face closer as she strained to push herself away. "But he's had his pecker in you, I can tell. I wonder if my tongue will be enough to turn you against my son, or if I'll have to fuck all your holes a few dozen times."

A sudden CRACK cut him off. Nobody had noticed Becca circling behind him until she swung the Fferyn against his skull. Everyone froze. The staff was unharmed, a testament to the magic coursing through it. Unfortunately, so was he.

"You ladies have guts," He said, and served Becca a wicked backhand that lifted her off the ground and sent her sprawling. "But you're not too smart. You can't hurt me, you can't outrun me, and if you piss me off," he grabbed Katherine's throat and squeezed, "I won't trouble myself with being gentle."

I couldn't bear watching him hurt her, unable to act. The room faded around me as my mind shut down, retreating to its innermost chambers, sheltered from dragons and evil men. But there were horrors there too. Gloria losing her humanity in the cellar below us, Amy fighting for her life against the remnants of her clan, a wet, red stain growing on Katherine's belly.

"Too soon," someone droned carelessly. "Drag it out like you promised. Let them suffer."

Movement. A body falling to the floor. Quiet laughter. Acrid smoke.

"Thomas."

It wasn't exactly a voice, more like a memory, but it was louder than the screaming in my ears.

"Tom, Get up, help is coming."

I looked up, searching for the source. Minutes had clearly passed. Katherine was on her knees, holding her throat and coughing while Caratacos gloated through the smoke of another cigarette. Becca had crawled to her, wrapping her arms protectively around her shoulders.

A tiny hand touched my check. Amy was kneeling next to my head, her sat phone and its smart watch interface strapped to her torso.

"Shit, I forgot," she said, jerking her hand away and shaking out her palm.

"Sorry," I said automatically, my voice weak and hoarse as though I'd been crying.

"I'll be fine, but you have to snap out of it. You've got to stall him."

"How?" I whispered. "I can't even stand up."

"I don't know, but they need you. I need you."

I closed my eyes and imagined what my father would do if I gave up. I tried to draw on my anger, use it instead of strength, but it didn't come when I called. To hell with that, I thought to myself, and through sheer determination, I slowly levered myself a few inches off the floor.

"You—you need to work on your pep talks," I grunted, paying for every inch of progress with sharp pangs of misery.

"Best I could do on short notice," she said sadly, then placed her hand on mine again, dismissing the consequences. "You're not just some changeling, Tom. You're a darkling. The gods of the Fae are terrified of people like you. Show this sonofabitch why." She lingered for another second, then turned and vanished like a wisp among the candles.

I glanced once at my father as he basked in his victory, all but ignoring me. I couldn't affect him, my power was useless for that, but the girls were open to me, live wires full of grace and beauty. I didn't know how it could help, but it was the only path left open.

Almost without thinking, I reached through the memories of their embraces and pulled aside the curtain of reality, where shades of light and sound reigned in an arcane symphony of being. Katherine's candy-sweet webs of honeyed light wove through Becca's violet swirls, though both were flickering and unsteady. Even Amy's fiery sparks were faint but visible. And there was a blush of rippling blue like the evening sky after a storm.

I sent a thin, whiplike surge of power from that tangle in the back of my mind, trying to communicate calm—a sense of peace and comfort rather than a spontaneous rush of unbridled passion. Their lights steadied, strengthened. I thought I caught a brief glance from Rachel, but I wasn't so adept at processing those new senses that I could pay attention to both worlds at once.

I inched myself upward, taking the weight on my one good leg, letting the Veil carry me beyond the pain.

"Hey, asshole," I called out, trying to focus his attention on me instead of the girls. "What's with all the candles?"

Caratacos raised an eyebrow and inhaled a lungful of smoke as he considered my question. "It's a little late to start wondering what makes me tick."

"I'm curious." I managed to choke out the words with far more confidence than I felt. "Why are you so scared of the dark?"

He considered me for several seconds, clearly unmoved by the insult, then examined his cigarette, sniffing at the wispy tendrils rising from its burning end. "I won't deny it, boy. There's plenty to fear in the night. Fire is life where we're from. Mean fuckers hide in the shadows. Even in the sunlight, parasites are in everything, nasty shit you have to burn out of the food. You think our blood is bad?" He shrugged, leaving them to my imagination.

He turned his back and I took the opportunity to check on the girls. Becca's glasses were missing. Her face wore a large bruise and her right eye was swollen shut, but the other was fixed and determined. Katherine knelt on the floor next to her, her cheeks streaked with tears, but when she looked back, her icy expression said she was on board with whatever crazy plan I had in mind, encouraging me to fight back.

"I was a watcher," Caratacos continued. "That wouldn't mean anything to you, but it was my job to warn the tribe. We'd burn oil in basins like this one, with powders to change the color of the flame," he indicated the metal brazier with a wave of his hand. "Green for attacks from other tribes, red for storms. Blue... that was for the khekesh, You never saw them until it was almost too late, but you could hear the hum of their wings. Fat, winged worms with barbed talons that they'd hook into you while they ate. The screams would last for hours. When they came, you knew you were going to lose at least half your people. Yeah, I know what it's like to be afraid."

He approached me, stopping within arms' reach. "Long story short, I fucked up. Lost my wife, my kid—guess that'd be your older brother. Captain said he'd restock the outpost for me so I never checked the supplies. He didn't. The fires were too low when the khekesh came. I got lucky, found a hole and crawled inside until it was over, but the survivors exiled me and my fucking captain was at the head of the line. They cast me into the black with no fire. It was a death sentence. I made it for a few days, scared shitless, doing whatever it took to survive, but nobody lives long alone in the dark. That would have been the end of me if I hadn't stumbled through the Veil.

"Does it surprise you that I have feelings?" he asked, then chuckled to himself and gestured at the brazier. "I stole this from a church a while back. It reminded me of the fires, what happens when you put your faith in anyone but yourself. "We're a lot alike, kid. Difference is, when I passed through hell I embraced it, and it made me a god."

"No it didn't," I said, straighting myself, "you just let it turn you into a devil."

"You think you could have done better?" He sneered. "Show me. Once I take your women, when you hear them screaming for more, you'll learn what it means to lose everything. That's when you'll finally understand, and it'll either give you power you never dreamed of or snap you in two. I suppose owe you that chance at least—one final lesson."

"You're a coward, and you always were." I said as I began to stir up the power once more, buffeted by storms in a world only I could see while a hundred voices whispered words through the Veil. "Why won't you use anyones' name? Is it because getting personal gives them leverage over you? Does it remind you that when your moment came you ran away and hid, saving your own life instead of the people you thought you cared for?" The momentum was building and I couldn't hold it back. "You hurt everyone by taking away and corrupting the things they love because that's what terrifies you. You've killed to make yourself stronger because you're scared of dying. The Winter Court exiled you, and now you're so afraid of being alone that you'll do anything to return, even if it means harvesting the blood of your own son. You never stopped being afraid, you just got better at lying to yourself."

The only evidence that I'd struck a nerve was the bulge in his cheek as he clenched his teeth. Without warning, he drew back to strike me again, but this time I had hold of my power, whatever that meant, and instead of attacking him with it, I turned it inward.

Reality fractured, and the rough chaos of my childhood madness exploded in my mind. For the first time in my life I welcomed it. The image of my father blurred as hundreds, perhaps thousands of variations came to life, each of them throwing a punch that would tear off my jaw and snap my neck as Katherine and Becca screamed in despair and horror.

Timelines broke open and my mind slipped through the Veil, navigating the raw potential of the cosmos, not by the light of distant stars, but by shining auras manifesting like beacons in every world that contained some version of the women I loved. I dismissed Caratacos' killing blow as easily as I might have avoided the ending of a book, simply by refusing to read it.

In that moment, the tangle in my mind uncoiled like a vast, black serpent that stretched from my insignificant thoughts to the borders of eternity, through a wound torn across endless time and space, feasting on the blood of creation. They were right to fear me. My father thought he knew what power was. He was a joke. I could scatter his atoms across infinite worlds with a thought.

But I couldn't remember why. The whole of the continuum slipped beneath my notice, a speck of order floating in a mighty, black sea that spawned innumerable realities. Entire universes were born simply because someone made a choice that broke away from the singular, perfect will that set all things in motion. Order had been corrupted by freedom. Law demanded justice. We lived in a cycle of pain and suffering caused by free will. It would be better if that axiom of balance were extinguished forever.

Thomas.

That word again, a sad attempt to name the unthinkable, reaching across the ages to set its hooks in me, to bind me again with love.

Tom.

Memory pulled against me, shedding the echoes of time and space until a single reflection remained.

What the fuck are you thinking, asshole?

What was I thinking?

Pain broke through, grounding me, reminding me who I was and what I fought for. If the only reason for the cosmos was to give those three girls a world to stand on, it was worth every conceivable effort to keep it intact.

Less than a second had passed when I fled the grip of the void. As my world surged back into focus, I wrapped my thoughts around the fading sense of near infinite might, balled my fingers into a fist, and lashed out with the last of my strength.

Though the bones in my one good hand broke on contact with my father's face, the punch didn't go unnoticed. He staggered back in shock, pressing fingers to the bridge of his nose.

"Not bad, kid," he said, then in a single, furious motion, he blew out my good knee with the heel of his foot and I blacked out.

I had tried. Even my memories of the void were diminishing like a bad dream, and the knot of power in the back of my mind squirmed, as useless as my shattered legs.

"You're killing him too fast," a husky voice rang through my anguish as I opened my eyes again. Rachel moved up behind my father and laid her hands tenderly on his shoulders. "Didn't you want him to beg?"

"You know what?" he said, breathing heavily. "You're right. It's time to get this show on the road." My father stepped briskly forward, pulled Katherine to her feet once more, and dragged her in front of me. "Why don't we start with his favorite?" With his free hand, he tore off her shirt and cast it aside. I couldn't even protest, I just prayed that Amy's promised help came soon.

"Wait," Rachel said, touching him again. "This bitch always gets to go first. All I've wanted for months is this fucker's cock inside me and I think for once I earned my place at the front of the line. Besides," she shot Katherine a nasty grin, "It'll hurt them more knowing I asked for it."

Caratacos roared with laughter. "You are one cold hearted bitch," he said, releasing Katherine and pulling Rachel roughly toward him. "But I haven't forgotten that you shot me." He kissed Rachel hard, but even I could tell it was artless, intended to infect, to hurt. She gasped and pulled away with a light smile, biting her lip as she knelt on the floor in front of him.

"I'll make it up to you," she said. "Let me do all the work."

He grinned in approval, reaching down down to stroke Rachel's dark hair. "Son, you could have had all of this and more, but you let your bullshit nobility get in the way. Now watch a real man in action."

"Rach," I croaked, trying to draw her attention away from him, but she just ignored me. Who was coming to help? Why was it taking so damned long?

Rachel placed her hand on the bulge in the front of my father's pants. He didn't respond with pleasure, only a satisfied leer, as his power over her grew. She might have betrayed us, but my heart broke, knowing she'd soon be forever beyond any reach but his.

"Hold on," he said, and took a third cigarette from the pocket of his jacket, lit from a nearby candle, filled his lungs, and exhaled a luxurious sigh. "That's perfect," he said. "Now get to work and suck my dick."

Rachel brushed back her hair and closed in like a black cat on all fours in her skinsuit, and when she was close enough, she reached for his belt, tipping her head back with a seductive smile, and stared directly into his wicked, gray eyes.

"I have a better idea," She said, her voice low and sensual. "Why don't you suck mine?"

She shoved the barrel of the forgotten pistol into Caratacos' groin and pulled the trigger in rapid succession, firing half a dozen magic bullets point blank into his body. The howl that escaped his mouth was mythical, but instead of falling dead, he caught her by her throat and threw her into the oil-filled brazier sending both crashing to the floor. Fire splashed everywhere, but Rachel received the worst of it, shrieking at the cruel flames that engulfed her body.

"You fucking brats!" Caratacos bellowed with rage, spittle flying with each word. "What makes you think you can still win? You can't kill me! I'll tear you into pieces and eat your hearts while they're still beating! I'll..." his tirade cut off abruptly and he grabbed at his gut, eyes wide in shock.

The air around him rippled, and a twisting pinched my mind as his glamor dissolved, leaving his face ashen, speckled like granite, with eyes as black as the grave.

"What is—" He began, then wailed again through a row of short fangs, pulling at his shaggy mane with blackened fingers as new waves of pain consumed him. I lay helpless on the floor while Katherine tried to extinguish Rachel with her jacket, but Becca stood, leaning on the Fferyn for support, and faced him alone.

"You wanted me to fix you." She said and bent down to retrieve her broken glasses. The spreading fire reflected in those lenses made her seem full of light. Caratacos swiped at her, but she easily stepped out of his reach and he dropped to his knees. "I'm not very good at healing, but I learned to make it stick. You just need to be careful not to hurt yourself again until it wears off." Her words were sharp as swords, and there was no hint of the nervous girl who had entered my life just a few short months before.

As my father stared in disbelief, something broke free from his aura—bright, yellow lights swarming around him like angry bees.

I seized them and once again unleashed the wild power, flooding his anima until they became tiny suns, and this time Caratacos knew my strength. All the fear he had sown in this world—my world—was nothing against the monsters I released into his soul. Vessels burst in his brain and blood dripped from his eyes and ears, but the aneurysm didn't give him a quick death. He choked on his own screams, bellowing and clawing at his eyes, tearing the flesh from his face as unabashed horror turned him inside out. The new damage accelerated Becca's spell, and his skin blackened while he convulsed on the floor, kicking over candles, and setting himself aflame.

I continued pouring raw, unbound power into his mind until I felt his anima shatter, then the world went white.

I left the room behind for the second time that night, shrouded in ribbons of green and gold with shards of infinite night stabbing at the edges of my aura. I imagined myself standing once again on the shore of a black ocean, its inky waters churning as shapes stirred beneath the surface. One by one, they broke through, emerging from its depths like an army of the dead.

Kennedy approached me, faintly glowing, and smiled before she stepped into the light surrounding my body, dissolving in a cloud of fairy dust. Then I was besieged by others, nearly all women, converging on me from all sides. For every touch there was a flash of light and an infusion of power as each ghostly will surrendered willingly what Caratacos had taken by force. There were hundreds of them, thousands, and each bore a spark, as undefinable as the void, but its utter opposite. One by one they vanished, yielding strength and purpose, until one lone woman remained, a short, red-headed girl with freckles and little round glasses, wading in the pure, clear surf. She came to me slowly, deliberately, and smiled a greeting, caressing my cheek with one delicate hand.

The vision blurred and my mother's face became another, one with wide, innocent eyes and cracked, oversized glasses.

"Tom, we have to go!" Becca was leaning over me, trying to help me up. "I'm too scared to heal you all the way and the building is on fire! We need to get out of here!"

My legs wouldn't take my weight but she managed to pull me up, and using the Fferyn for support, we shambled together toward the door. When Becca stopped on the threshold, I spared one last glance at my father's dessicated body as it crumbled into ash.

Most of the room was already engulfed by the quickly spreading flames and Katherine struggled with the weight of her best friend at the top of the stairs.

"I can't carry her," she cried when we joined them. Rachel was barely conscious. Severe burns covered one side of her face and the fire had claimed half her hair. The inferno behind us was closing in, and only two of us could walk.

We heard the door slam open at the foot of the stairs along with a commotion of voices and froze, caught between death and the unknown. As we held our breath, Finn skidded into view on the landing below us, followed by Miss Gold.

"It looks like we missed the party." Finn said carelessly, the corners of her mouth threatening to break into a grin. My godmother stood behind her, stern and silent, even paler than usual.

"You could say that," I managed, and despite the pain, exhaustion, and the heat of the flames, I smiled back. If not for Becca, I'd have fallen down the stairs.