Fury Freed

When I woke up, I was alone on the blacktop outside the restroom. There was no sign of the woman or her car. I swore softly. It didn’t matter. I knew her name, and I knew, somehow, I would be seeing her again very soon. The wicked couldn’t escape my fury.

Slowly, I got to my feet and winced at the new ache on the side of my neck. Using the key that was lying beside me, I let myself into the bathroom and saw a new burn. The ugly red patch would be impossible to hide.

Leaving the key in the door, I returned to my car. Driving wasn’t easy. I had to pull over twice to throw up, and my head felt like it was going to burst. Eventually, I made it around St. Louis to the quiet country subdivisions on the outskirts.

Grandma’s house was small compared to its neighbors, but it was well kept. Quaint. I pulled into the driveway and turned off the car.

A flutter of white on the front door caught my attention. Getting out, I tried to feel for any wickedness. Nothing. Relieved, I went to the door and discovered that the flutter of white was a note for me.

Megan,

Let yourself in. There are cookies on the counter. Make sure you have one and some milk before you come to the backyard.

Grandma Irene

I ripped the note from the door.

“What the hell?”

This did not seem like a note from a fury grandma who wanted to kick my ass. The thought made me pause. Never once had I considered if she actually did want to fight me. The book only said that I had to fight her. Maybe she knew I was coming because it was an inevitable thing, not because it was something she wanted. The thought made me frown as I reached for the knob and let myself in.

The scent of freshly baked cookies filled the air. Exactly the smell I would have associated with a normal grandma’s house.

Before I made it more than two steps in the direction of the kitchen, I heard the faint sound of pounding. I stopped, tilted my head, and listened.

The sounds seemed to be coming from the hall to my left. I moved that direction, peeking in a bedroom, a bathroom, and then another bedroom. Every room was empty and nicely decorated. Warm and welcoming.

The last door on the left was closed. And from behind it, the banging continued. I hesitated with my hand on the knob. What if sweet, cookie-baking Grandma Irene wasn’t in the backyard like the note said? What if this was a trap?

I took a step or two back from the door.

“Hello?” I called, mustering every ounce of fake innocence I possessed.

The banging stopped.

“Megan?” came a familiar, muffled voice from the other side.

“Oanen!” I rushed for the door and flung it open. Before I made it more than a step inside, Oanen had me in his arms. His wind-and-sky scent filled my nose as I inhaled deeply and held on tightly.

“I was so scared,” I said. “Are you okay?”

I tried to pull back enough to see for myself, but he wouldn’t let me go.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled in the crook of my neck. Thankfully, the good side. I shivered at the feel of his breath on my skin.

“I’m so sorry, Megan.”

“No. This isn’t your fault.”

He loosened his hold, and I turned my head to meet his blue gaze. I winced, taking in everything that had changed since I last saw him. The picture on his phone had been right. He had been burned, a look I was familiar with. His eyebrows were a little melted and scorched off. And the faint stink of burnt hair clung to him.

Despite my recent burn, I could feel my fury lift her head.

“What happened? How did my mom find you?” I asked.

“I was at Zayn’s house, waiting for the druid to show, when I got a text from an unknown number. I’d given my number out to so many people when we were looking for Zayn that I didn’t even think anything of it. The text said to go to the Gizzard. That Zayn was there.”

“But he wasn’t,” I said, already knowing what he would say next.

“No. I can’t believe I was so stupid. I walked right into it. Your mom was there, waiting for me. As soon as she touched me, there was a bright flash of light, and I was here in the backyard.”

“She teleported?” Even after seeing her disappear in front of me, I had a hard time believing she could teleport. That someday, I would be able to do the same.

“Yeah. She told me to consider myself lucky. That most people who hitched a fury ride went straight to hell.”

“And teleporting burned you?”

“No. This was an accident. Your mom had barely finished tying me to the tree out back when the door to the house burst open. Your grandma came marching out, and man was she pissed. She started yelling your mom’s name and demanding confessions. Your mom started doing the same. These burns are from the two of them being that close to each other. They were both engulfed in flames. It was like that time next to the car. The only thing that saved me was the tree. Your mom had tied me to the side.”

I studied his face and lightly touched the redder spots I had guessed were finger marks.

“And these?” I asked.

“Once your mom disappeared, your grandma came over and demanded to know who I was. I don’t think she realized how hot she still was.”

I smirked.

“So, you thought my great-grandma was hot?”

He groaned and set his forehead against mine.

“I missed you,” he said softly.

“I missed you, too.” I tipped my head to lightly kiss his lips. “But I need you to leave.”

He made an angry sound and let go of me to gesture at the wall. There were dents the size of a chair in the wall around the door, the windows, even the ceiling. Given the chair that was on the bed, it made sense. No. Not really.

“Um, what were you doing?”

“Trying to break out of here.” He ran his hand through his hair and looked at me. “That druid is nothing but trouble, and I still wish you would have been able to send him to hell.”

“Explain.”

“That insane druid showed up here a few hours ago. I was still tied to the tree in the backyard. Grandma Irene was weeding her garden in the moonlight. She was keeping me company until you arrived.”

“Stay on topic, Oanen. What about Zayn?”

“He walked right through her house and out the backdoor like he owned the place. If you think your eyes glow, you should see your grandma’s. She had him by the throat before he could blink. And, he calmly informed her that he wasn’t trespassing; he was sent to protect Megan’s mate.”

Oanen reached out and threaded his fingers through mine.

“When your grandma asked who I was, I said I was a close friend. After your mom’s reaction about us being together, I wasn’t sure telling your grandma more would be wise.”

“Yet, you lied to her? What were you thinking?”

“It wasn’t a lie. I think I’m one of your closest friends. Aren’t I?”

I melted a little and smiled up at him.

“After that shower together, I can’t say no.”

He frowned slightly.

“I really hope that doesn’t mean you plan to shower with all your close friends.”

I shrugged indifferently and watched the gold flecks creep into his eyes.

“Are you purposely provoking me?”

“Yes.” I smiled sweetly, and he sighed.

“Once your grandma heard that I was your unconsummated mate, things changed. Zayn negotiated a contract with her. I’m locked in this room, unable to leave because of the druid’s spell, until you claim your power.”

“I don’t understand. Why would my grandma agree to that?”

“That’s what you don’t understand? One, I don’t understand what the hell Zayn was doing here. Two, I don’t understand why, with all his power, he would lock me in this room instead of just taking me somewhere else. Because I know damn well he can teleport.”

“He came to protect you because I asked for his help. The spell will ensure that you stay out of my fight with my grandma. And, I’m pretty sure he couldn’t take you without tipping the scales to his wickedness.”

I removed my hand from Oanen’s and gently kissed his lips. When I pulled back, his golden eyes watched me closely. I saw the moment he caught sight of the new burn.

“Megan, what did you do?”

He reached for me, and I quickly stepped back into the hall.

“Wish me luck,” I whispered.

“Megan!” He ran for the opening, hit nothing, and went flying backward. The door slammed shut on its own before he landed.

With a heavy heart, I went to the kitchen, grabbed a cookie, and looked out the window above the sink. The fenced-in yard was large, an acre at least. To the right, near the back, was a single old tree, it’s craggy branches barren. To the left was the remnants of this year’s garden. The brown, withered plants partially hid the woman bent over in their midst.

I couldn’t see exactly what she was doing, but it looked like she was pulling out plants. She held a long handle for something. A support, given her age? Or perhaps a weapon for when I showed up?

The space from the house to the tree was charred. The dry winter grass hadn’t stood a chance against whatever happened between my mom and Grandma Irene. I wondered if the same would happen when I stepped outside the door.

I bit into the cookie, wishing I didn’t have to test my theories about grandma wanting to fight, wishing there’d been another answer.

“Worthless Book of Fury,” I murmured, moving toward the back door.

Grandma Irene looked up at the sound of the hinge creaking. An orange light immediately flared to life in her eyes. I felt no fear. No annoyance or anger, either.

“Megan?” she called.

“Yeah. It’s me.” I walked toward the tree, slow and calm, as she straightened. She wore a long, knit sweater. Something that looked worn and comfortable—over a pair of tan slacks.

“It’s a bit late in the year for weeding, isn’t it?” I asked. “I mean, I’ve never gardened, but I would have thought the weeding happened when things were growing.”

The orange light flickered in her eyes and went out. Without a word, she set her hoe aside and made her way through the brittle rows to leave her patch of earth. She didn’t come closer to me, though. She waited on the normal brown grass, just on the edge of the burnt patch.

I kept walking until about fifteen feet separated us. Close enough to see the true brown color of her eyes and the thick white twist of hair peeking from the back of her head.

With the tree to my right and the house to my left, I faced her and waited for what would happen next.

Her gaze swept me head to toe, lingering on the exposed burn on my neck.

“How many burns do you have, sweetie?” she asked, sounding incredibly kind and loving. It wasn’t something I was used to hearing from a motherly figure anymore.

“Five,” I said.

“Is the one on your neck the freshest?”

“Yeah. I did it just before coming here. Maybe two hours ago.”

Pity filled her gaze.

“On purpose?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“Oh, honey,” she said sadly. “You’re going to burn yourself out trying to fight what you are.”

“So I’ve been told. Repeatedly.” I looked around the yard and then at the cookie I still held in my hand. “This is really good, by the way.”

“It’s a neighbor’s recipe that I got a long time ago. Around the great depression.”

I looked at the cookie again.

“Wow. That’s pretty old.”

“Watch it.” There was no real anger in her warning. “I was older than you then.”

My eyes widened in surprise.

“You’ve aged really well.”

“You have no idea. But you will. You know your boy can’t leave that room until you do what needs doing, right?”

“Yeah. I know. That complicates things.”

“How so?”

“I don’t want to kill you. I don’t want to kill anyone just so I can live.”

“You’re old enough to know that just because you want something, doesn’t mean you can have it.” She said it sternly but not unkindly. “Like that boy inside.”

A flicker of anger burst to life in my belly.

“Don’t,” I said.

Her eyes sparked orange in response to my warning tone. She didn’t look angry, though.

“I knew it wouldn’t last long,” she said. “Not when you’re this close to me. I have dealt out punishments and delivered the wicked to hell for too long for you not to sense it. It’s who we are. What we’re made for. And that’s why you need to let the boy go when we’re done here. He’s not right for you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. Our kind can only have girls. His kind can only have boys. Furies and griffins aren’t meant to mix. And trust me when I say you want the next generation to be born. You won’t want to punish the wicked forever.”

Every word she spoke against my relationship with Oanen burrowed further under my skin and fueled the ball of anger growing in my middle.

“There has to be another way,” I said stubbornly.

“Of course there is. Sleep with a human. They’re very fertile and easy to leave.”

The idea of being with someone other than Oanen ripped at my insides. We had already begun our bond. We were committed on a level I didn’t fully understand. Even now, I could feel his worry and fear for me. And his love. What she was suggesting would be cheating.

I fisted my hands against her irreverent proposal and struggled to maintain control over my actions and thoughts.

“I meant there has to be another way to gain my power. A way that doesn’t involve killing you. It isn’t fair to punish you for something you couldn’t stop yourself from doing. The gods made you this way. And, I’ll hate myself for continuing their unjust system.”

“I understand. I’ve hated myself for over one hundred years, now. I wish you could be spared that. But you can’t. Now, if you want your winged friend freed, you better stop trying to deny what you’re feeling and do what you’re meant to do.”

“No,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Oh? You don’t care about him? Well, that’s a good thing because he hasn’t had anything to eat or drink since he’s gotten here.”

The rage grew.

“I know you’re baiting me,” I said, trying to deny the anger.

“No, this is baiting you.” She smiled, a curl of her lips that held no humor. “I knew I would burn your boy when I touched him.”

I couldn’t stop the fury consuming me, and once the wrong done to Oanen brought it to life, I could feel every bit of wickedness coming from the old woman standing across from me. The need to punish her consumed me.

“Irene Firestorm, hell awaits you,” I said, my double-edged voice rattling the branches of the scorched tree.

“Come take your birthright, fledgling. If you think you’re able.” She lifted her arms slightly. Flames ignited at her fingertips and slowly spread up her arms and over her shoulders to catch at her back.

Like when I’d faced my mother, I could feel the heat as wings burst forth from her back. These weren’t the tiny wings I’d seen in the picture of myself at the lake but huge, beautiful wings that danced with the flames of hell.

The grass at the old fury’s feet started to smoke. To me, the white wisps acted like cannon fire for our fight to start.

The rage inside me demanded that I scream my anger and launch myself at her. I shook with the need to hurt her. To rip her wings from her back. To make her bleed in retribution for her actions.

In my mind, I could see the countless wicked she’d punished and delivered to hell. The image of her face was burned further into my mind with each trip to the underworld.

My steps slowed.

There was no joy in her expression. Resolution. Anger. Impatience. So many other emotions. But never any joy.

“Don’t fight it, Megan. It will kill you.”

I focused on my grandmother’s blazing eyes and saw the same thing now. So many emotions. Most of all, pity.

I couldn’t stop my forward movement. I couldn’t hold back the rage as I reached her or the tears that began a slow trek down my face.

“My poor fledgling,” Irene said, opening her arms wider.

I walked right into them and let her wrap me in a hug even as I reached for her wings.

“Do what you must,” she whispered in my ear.

Gripping the base of her right wing I pulled hard. She gasped, but didn’t try to hurt me in return. Instead, she comforted me, running a hand over the back of my head.

“Good girl,” she said, her words raspy with pain.

The wing shrunk in my hand, the power piercing my palm and filling me with its heady weight. I didn’t just hunger for more. My fury needed it. I could feel how broken I was now. All the burns on my skin weren’t just burns but holes in my existence. The power was working to fill them. To fix me. Without the other wing, I would die.

Knowing that, even with my need to hurt her still consuming me, I fought against myself as I reached for the other wing. I shook in her arms.

“Shh, now. It’s almost over,” she said.

“It will never be over,” I said as I gripped her remaining wings. “I will never forgive the gods for forcing this on me.”

I pulled hard, stripping her of her remaining power.

She slumped against me, and suddenly I was the one supporting her. I barely noticed her weight.

Hate and power consumed me. A new fire seared through my veins, ripping me apart and rebuilding me into something infinitely stronger than what I had been. Twin infernos sprouted from my back and grew into wings large enough to wrap around us.

In the cocoon of their flames, I could feel a pull, something urging me to allow the earth to swallow me whole. But, I ignored it, unwilling to let it distract me from the thought filling my mind. Eras. The incubus from the Roost, who had been harassing Zoe and Kelsey. He’d been wicked but his crimes petty, not wicked enough to send him to hell.

I remembered my words to him. Make amends and cleanse your slate.

I’d gone the other way with the girl at the gas station. I’d told her I couldn’t wait for a few more years for her theft.

The druid had been right. Our deeds were being weighed on a scale that only a few could sense. Tip the scale, and go to hell. But, who decided what deeds went on each side of the scale? I realized it wasn’t who but what. Our laws and rules determined the wicked.

And just like that, the view of my world shifted.