Gods & Monsters (Serpent & Dove #3) by Shelby Mahurin

“The magic—it’s too—” Lou shuddered on a cough, still immersed in her patterns, as Coco finally broke through the crowd. “It isn’t mine.”

Coco circled the platform frantically, seeking a gap in the flames. Her cries were lost amidst the tumult.

“I’ve almost”—Beau’s fingers scrabbled at the ropes—“got them.”

Lou’s voice rose to a scream now. It tore from her throat, raw and vicious. Terrified. “It’s too late—”

“Just leave, brother!” My own voice joined hers. “GO!”

The fire climbed up our legs now. Up his. It consumed all in its path: rope, clothing, skin. Without the stake to support him, Beau fell against us. “I’m not leaving you.” But his knees gave out with the words, and he crumpled. His face contorted as he bellowed in pain, as blisters ruptured his throat, his face.

“Yes, you are,” Lou said through gritted teeth. She looked to Coco with tears in her eyes. “Take care of each other.”

The ropes at her ankles had disintegrated, and she lifted a leg, kicking him squarely in the chest. He stumbled backward from the platform—a pillar of flame—and fell straight into Coco’s arms.

Coco stared at him in horror.

“No.” She shook her head frantically, dropping to the snow. Packing it over his skin. He thrashed helplessly. “Beau. Beau, look at me—” Tendrils curled up her arms now, but she ignored them. My own muscles jerked and twitched as I watched, helpless. The snow did nothing to suppress the flame. There was no escape from this, no extinguishant, no magic to help us now. Not even Lou’s. “No, no, no. Please, Beau. Beau.”

“I’m so sorry, Reid,” Lou gasped. “I can’t stop it, but I can—I can help—” She twisted to look in my eyes. “I love you. Find peace.”

Find peace.

The words snapped and cracked between us, out of place. Surely I’d misheard her. They couldn’t be right. Because here—burning in a lake of black fire—there could be no peace. Not for her. Not for me. Not as our bones melted and our skin peeled.

She flexed her hand.

The ropes on my wrists snapped in response, and I flew from the platform in a rush of hot air. Landing hard on the street, I twisted to look at her. But I could no longer see, no longer hear. Pain stole my senses, and my golden patterns scattered into dust, settling as a veil over the scene.

Except it wasn’t this scene any longer.

The mob dimmed amidst the gold, replaced by another crowd. The black fire vanished. A different stake pierced the sky, and a different witch writhed against it. Her cornsilk hair burned first. I stood before the platform, hands clasped, with the Archbishop beside me. A Balisarda gleamed at my chest.

Witch killer witch killer witch killer

The memory dissipated before I could fully grasp it.

But the pain—the excruciating heat—it vanished abruptly as new magic burst around us. Its scent overpowered the smoke. The cooked flesh. Though flames still devoured my clothing, blistered my skin, I felt only cold snow. Beside me, Beau’s eyes snapped open. He settled in Coco’s arms.

Then Lou began to scream.

She screamed, and she screamed until her throat should’ve torn open at the sound. Until her heart should’ve stopped. The agony on her face shone clear as she writhed. Like her pain had tripled. Quadrupled.

Understanding dawned.

I struggled to my feet.

She’d taken our pain from us. It was all she could do.

“Lou.” Coco sobbed her name, rocking Beau as they burned. Pleading. When her tears fell, they hissed against his face. Instead of stoking the fire, however, the drops quenched it. His skin sizzled. Healed. Thunder rumbled overhead. “Don’t do this, Lou, please—”

Another memory resurfaced without warning. Stronger than the first. I fell to my knees once more.

When? When did you know?

During the witch burning. When—when Lou had her fit. Everyone thought Lou was seizing, but I saw her. I smelled the magic.

A deeper pain than fire erupted at the memory, even as Coco’s tears thickened. As the first drops of rain fell—Coco’s rain. She’d said all along her grief had sparked this fire. Now it seemed her love would soothe it. Wherever the drops touched, the ground sputtered and steamed. The flames quelled. But Lou’s screams—they continued. They cleaved me in two. Clutching my head, I pitched forward. The rain soaked my shirt. My skin.

My blisters closed.

She was burning, Reid. I don’t know how, but she took away that witch’s pain. She gave it to herself.

But I’d already known. In the deepest part of me, I’d drawn the connection. I’d recognized Lou’s selflessness, even then. Her sacrifice. I’d been unable to admit it at the time. Unable to confront the truth, even as I’d nursed my dying wife back to health. Because she had almost died to save another.

In that moment, I’d fallen in love with her.

The pain in my head built to a crescendo at the realization. I couldn’t bear it. Incoherent—aching, roaring—I clawed at my hair. Tore at my face. Vaguely, I heard the platform collapse, felt urgent hands on my shoulders. “Reid! Reid!” But Beau’s and Coco’s shouts couldn’t pierce the turmoil of my mind. Darkness edged my vision. Unconsciousness loomed. The ground rose up to meet me.