Mighty is the Storm,

Let her be praised.

Fierce is the Lightning,

Let her be praised.

Queen of Queens,

We praise you, we praise you.

Oh, Shining Lady,

We give our praise to you.

Their faith filled the dark empty places inside me—places I hadn’t believed could ever be filled again.

Like a vestment, thunder enrobed me, wrapping me in peace and comfort. Lightning crowned my brow.

Be strong and don’t be afraid, Grandfather said. I’ll always watch over you. My love will always be with you...

Letting go of the conscious part of my ego that compelled my waking actions, I surrendered to the goddess within.

Thunder tore from my throat.

Lightning bled from my pores.

The first Gods of Thunder were little more than organized storms that had gained sentience, evolving over eons to take human form. The primordial force that composed those earliest deities still resided in me, contained, bound, and civilized.

It was that force I thought of as my soul.

It was that force I unleashed upon Le Poing Fermé.

Chapter 32

I’d never be able to explain exactly what happened in those moments when the thunder took control, but like a dream that fades quickly after waking, I remembered sensations and feelings.

The sharp prick of electricity

The cold burn of dark Magic.

Thunder concussions reverberating deep in my chest.

A breath of cool air and a sense of liberation.

The tang of ozone coating my tongue as my awareness returned. My feet touched the ground. I crumpled, but strong arms caught me.

Gideon’s voice in my ear reassured me, soothing me. “I’ve got you, my love. You’re all right. Everyone’s all right.”

As the fully human part of me reestablished control, several realizations arose. My pain was gone. Only exhaustion—deep, bone-numbing exhaustion—remained. My friends had survived. Malita and Brigette stood beside me, supporting a woozy Niffin between them.

Brigette’s father, Baron Fontaine, was kneeling. His two nameless associates knelt beside him, and several Council Magicians were fastening brass cuffs around their wrists. Ruelle Thibodaux, however, remained on his feet. Belladonna Armati stood before him, her hand locked on his throat. A golden aura blazed around her.

As if she’d sensed the return of my faculties, the High Magus shifted, angling herself to glance at me from the corner of her eye. Her Magical entourage all wore varying expressions of surprise, amazement, and shock. A few seemed wary, maybe even afraid. I couldn’t blame them. My transformation frightened me a little too.

I had not been in control.

I had not been... me.

The faithful believers at the edge of the forest milled closer, curious but hesitant. I would make time for them, but later. There were more urgent matters to settle first.

“My lady,” Magus Armati said. Her Venitzian accent gave a lovely color to her Inselgrish. “That was quite a performance.”

Gideon snorted. “Evie’s not a circus act. She just saved our lives. Show her some respect.”

I cleared my throat, giving him a look to suggest he should take his defensiveness down a notch. “Thank you, Gideon, but I’m sure the High Magus meant no offense.”

Thibodaux’s face had turned an unfortunate shade of purple. He did not struggle or fight. Armati’s hold on him appeared absolute. “You are right, Your Highness,” she said. “I mean no disrespect. In fact, I wish to express my gratitude on behalf of the Council for your assistance in helping us capture the criminal Ruelle Thibodaux and the members of his deviant cabal.”

So that’s how the Magus wanted to spin it? Fine by me, if it got her off my lawn and out of my country.

Brigette wobbled forward. “What will you do with these... criminals?” Her eyes bored into her father. He returned her stare, but his face was a blank, stoic mask.

“You know very well what we will do with them. You have seen the punishment yourself when you visited our basilica.”

“Prison,” Brigette said, not questioning.

“Ruelle Thibodaux, Baron David Fontaine, Guillermo Borbón, and Lady Eloise DeLacroix will all be sentenced to lengthy terms of incarceration.” She nodded toward Thibodaux. “Some of them for life, I should expect.”

Only after she’d named each of her prisoners did I realize she’d left one out. “Where’s Jackie?” An image of Thibodaux’s brutal assault flashed through my mind. Gideon gripped me tighter. I searched his face for answers, but he avoided my gaze.

My heartbeat stuttered and stumbled. Frost laced my bones. “I need to know.”

Gideon closed his eyes and exhaled. He shifted his weight, turning us both to face the scene behind us. Jackie’s pale figure lay crumpled, broken, and lifeless. His corn-silk hair strewn in a wild tangle. Blood stained his torn and burned suit. I’d seen him unconscious and wounded before but never like this.

I shoved against Gideon. He tried to hold me back, but I pushed him again, and he let me go. I stumbled to Jackie and collapsed beside him, knowing before I touched him that he was gone. Even when he’d been sick aboard the Velox, he’d exuded presence and charisma. He’d given off an aura of energy, power, and verve.

Now he was quiet and still in a way only rocks and stones and dead things could be.

Fire bloomed in my throat. Hot tears seared my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. “Damn you, Jackie. You were mine, my enemy to defeat.” I turned blazing, angry eyes on his murderer. “How dare you take him like this, Thibodaux. How dare you discard him like trash. I hope you rot in the Shadowlands. I hope the spirits in the afterlife eat your soul until there’s nothing left of you. Not even a bad memory.”

Thibodaux had the decency to look away. He couldn’t do much else, considering the High Mage had yet to release him from her chokehold.

“If I see Thibodaux again, Magus, I’ll kill him.”

Armati bobbed her chin. “Sounds fair.”

“Now, if you don’t mind, kindly take your people and your criminals and get off my island.”