Stacy felt numb as she curled up on the sofa in the living room of the Thorn estate, her fingers tracing a photograph of her, Amy, and Spencer at the gym. A social media influencer had come in one day while they were training and asked to take a picture.
It showed Spencer in the middle, arms flung around both women. In the photo, Stacy was cringing at the sweat he got on her. Amy was beaming. Later, the influencer emailed the photo to Amy, who had printed copies for Stacy and Spencer.
Stacy traced the edges of the photo, eyes red from crying the entire ride home. Rowan had helped her inside, and Kiera insisted she take a bath and change her clothes. Now, she didn’t know where either of them had gone.
The thoughts she had expressed aloud in the van played through her mind. She couldn’t banish them despite her companions insisting it was not her fault.
This is my fault.
I was too focused on revenge.
This would have never happened if…
The thought trailed off as fresh tears flowed. She imagined Amy in the hospital, unconscious and hurting. Did she know Spencer was gone yet?
I shouldn’t have done this.
I’m not cut out for this.
This legacy is too much for me to handle.
She wondered what her mother and father would have done. What would they do now? One answer occurred to her: Don’t let Spencer’s death mean nothing. His sacrifice had to count. Amy’s, too. Stacy resolved to do something, though she didn’t know what.
Soft footsteps alerted her to Rowan’s approach. He entered the living room and sat at the other end of the sofa. Turmoil filled his eyes. “I spoke with Miles. He has ensured everything is secure here. We have all endured a loss tonight but also a victory. I know it weighs on you. I think you should talk about it. Doesn’t have to be with me, but holding it in will do you no good.”
“I want to see Amy. I want to know she’s going to be all right.”
Rowan’s face softened. “Trust me, trust us. I will fight for Amy. She will come home.”
Stacy didn’t know how the dryad planned to do this, but the sincerity in his eyes convinced her. “Are you leaving?”
“Soon. I wanted to show you something first. It might help you find solace while I am away.” He stood and offered his hand.
She took it, wondering what he could show her on the grounds that she hadn’t already seen.
He led her through the back door and into the gardens, where sprites were enjoying the night, unaware of anything bad happening. “I didn’t show you this before because it was in major disrepair. When Miles came here, I asked him to help me. Now, it’s in good enough condition for you to use.”
Her eyes flickered with curiosity, but she didn’t have the strength to ask, so she simply waited. Rowan led her down a narrow path through the trees, leaving the garden behind. Several yards in, a clearing appeared, containing a small stone structure with a steeple.
Stacy shook her head. “Of course. I should have expected this. My mother has secret training spots and libraries. Why not also have a secret chapel?”
“She came here when she was at her lowest. To pray alone, I believe.” Rowan’s eyes glistened. “I was hoping to show it to you later after we cleaned it up more, but given tonight’s events…”
Stacy squeezed his arm. “Thank you, Rowan. This means a lot.”
“Go in, be by yourself. When you are ready, Kiera will have tea for you in the kitchen.”
Stacy stood for a long moment in the clearing after Rowan left, scanning the small stone building. The arched stained glass windows were dark, but she noticed a small, flickering light inside. A candle, she guessed by its size and single flame.
After inhaling a deep breath of the chill night air, she approached the wooden door. The hinges creaked as she swung the door open to reveal a space hardly bigger than her bedroom. The stone walls towered over her. Two benches flanked a narrow walkway with a stone altar at the end. The candle flickered as she stepped in. Magic, of course.
She clutched the locket around her neck. You’re here, Mother, aren’t you? You have been waiting for me.
Her footsteps were soft as she approached the altar. She bent, then lifted her gaze to the stone wall beyond. Several faces were carved into it, none she recognized. The tears flowed freely. “Please, be with Amy. Bring her back to me.” She thought of Spencer and prayed that he was in a better place.
“Give me strength,” she whispered. “Help me lead those who wish to follow me through the darkness. Give me wisdom to balance my quest for justice with mercy.”
Stacy had no idea who she was praying to. Were these carved faces gods? Was she simply imploring her mother’s spirit? She didn’t know, but it felt right. She remained in the small building for a while longer, her knees growing uncomfortable and cold against the stone floor. She didn’t care. She was alive, and so was Amy. Let’s keep it that way, she thought.
Finally, when the coldness pressed in around her, she stood and returned to the house.
As Rowan promised, she found Kiera in the kitchen, brewing a pot of tea. The aroma was soothing. She offered Stacy a cup, smiling faintly. “We’re here for you.”
“How can you be?” Stacy croaked. “You barely know me, yet you put your life on the line for me tonight.”
“I did it for Rowan, for you, and because I hate greedy bastards like Victor,” Kiera answered after sipping from her cup. “There is a lot you don’t know about me, Stacy. One day, I might find the courage to tell you, but know that what we did tonight held a lot of weight for me.”
Stacy wasn’t sure what that meant, but the word “courage” lingered in her mind. Kiera seemed brave and fearless. Why would she need courage to tell her story? What horrors had she faced in her past?
“It’s too much for tonight,” Kiera added, seeing the puzzlement on Stacy’s face. “Another time.”
They sipped the hot tea, lapsing into a comfortable silence. Finally, Stacy managed two words in a hoarse voice. “Thank you.”
“For the tea or for killing those fuckers tonight?” Amusement flashed in the fae woman’s eyes.
Stacy was too exhausted to share in it. “Both.”
Kiera set her cup aside and slid a hand down Stacy’s arm. “You know, I’ve never had a true home. Not since I was younger than you. I’ve learned that home is the people you surround yourself with. You have found that, Stacy, and you must fight to keep it. Think of the strength we possess when we are united. The death of one ally or friend is one too many, I know that. However, you must deal with the deaths, or evil will triumph.”
