The Edge of Strange Hollow by Gabrielle Byrne (great book club books txt) 📗

back to Poppy, the full force of her attention falling on Poppy’s fist where it closed around the small blue bottle. “Not only can I tell you where the Soul Jar is. I can tell you who made it … and what it holds … and I can tell you who used it.”

Poppy couldn’t breathe. She raised her fist and uncurled her fingers. The little blue bottle lay in her palm, cool against the thin scab that had formed when Nula broke her blood ward. A fine mist swirled inside the bottle. “This … this is the Soul Jar?” Her voice was a whisper.

“It is.” The queen’s voice was smug.

Poppy stared at the queen. Her voice was strained. “It was you. You made the Soul Jar. You changed the malediction.”

The queen snapped her fingers in the air. “As easy as any blood ward. I can’t believe no one ever thought of it before.” She laughed. “Well, I can.”

“Blood makes the rules in the wood.” Poppy swallowed, her gaze fixing on the bottle with slow horror. “And we—I used it to catch the Valkyries’ song? But … it’s called the Soul Jar.” Poppy hated the pleading tone in her own voice, but she couldn’t control it. “It’s the Soul Jar … and this is a song … not a soul.”

“What is a song, if not the expression of a soul?” The queen’s smile grew sickly sweet at the look on Poppy’s face. She patted Poppy’s cheek with an icy cold hand. “Never mind, dear. You couldn’t have known. What use do the Valkyries have for souls of their own? None at all! They’re immortal, after all.

“But the Valkyries’ song is another matter. All songs have some power, but their song? Their song is one of the greatest weapons ever made. They say it is forged from little pieces of the souls they collect in the heat of battle.” She tipped her chin at the bottle, clasping her hands at her back. “So … I’m afraid what you took from them was not really a song at all.”

“Their song is made of souls?” Mack gulped. “We took people’s souls?”

The queen’s eyes flashed. “Indeed, you did. And you did very well too!” Her voice held pride—and not in them.

“Don’t give it to her,” Nula called from behind Poppy. “You don’t have to! You already paid her.”

Her friend’s words were like a switch. All Poppy’s pain—her anguish over Dog, the shock of being tricked into taking the Valkyries’ song of souls—all of it ignited. But before she could use it to set fire to the world, the Faery Queen leaped forward and slapped Nula. The crack of her palm against Nula’s cheek ricocheted through the trees.

Nula cried out, and fell back as Mack let out a snarl, and moved to step between them. Poppy gave a horrified gasp.

The queen stalked around them. “You should think carefully before you risk yourself to protect this creature.” Her voice came from deep in her chest and sounded old … and angry.

“Leave her alone,” Mack said, pushing Nula behind him.

They had to get out of here. Poppy gritted her teeth and turned to Mack and Nula, her fingers rubbing at the half-healed wound on her palm. Mack gave her a puzzled look, his gaze dropping to her hands. Understanding flooded his eyes.

Poppy waited. She wouldn’t make the choice recklessly. She wanted Mack with her every step of the way.

“Do it!” Nula cried, catching on, and Mack nodded.

Without a word Poppy tore open the wound, letting her blood cover the Soul Jar. At the same time, she cried, “You will harm none! You will harm none! You will harm none!”

The Faery Queen’s face registered shock as Poppy pulled out the stopper and released the Valkyries’ song.

CHAPTER TWENTY

A whistling sound filled the glade. Everyone froze, preparing for a blow. For several long moments nothing happened. The queen’s expression lengthened. Deep lines of withheld fury distorted her expression, but she held her troops steady with a raised hand—watching.

It wasn’t anything like being up on the cliff with the Valkyries. There was no pressure in the air—no sense of something gathering. Was the song useless, then, without the Valkyries there to wield it? The forces of the Fae army, all gathered in neat rows behind the queen, shuffled and shifted.

The wood remained quiet, and Mack began to tug Poppy back. The shadows of the Faery Queen’s face grew longer still, and she drew a slender blade out of thin air. Four more spiders with handmaidens on their backs moved forward to stand behind the queen. Poppy counted seven of them in the glade now, the dim evening light reflecting in each of their eight black eyes.

She looked down at the little bottle, still clutched in her bloody palm. She’d undone the malediction … but maybe the song wasn’t loose yet. Poppy searched the wood for anything that could help. A large stone leaned against the white birch next to Mack, and without another thought, Poppy lifted the bottle and smashed it against the stone.

It shattered with the chime of breaking glass, and then came a sucking sound, like the breaking of a seal, and the Valkyries appeared, hovering above the trees, answering the call of their own magic in an instant. They dropped out of the sky, landing in crouches, their armor too bright to see.

She, Mack, and Nula were somehow behind the Valkyries. They could have turned and run … or hidden, but Poppy couldn’t retreat without clearing the air.

“I’m sorry, Brynne,” she called, and the Valkyrie commander, still crouched, motionless, turned her head—the only sign that she heard.

Poppy hurried to say what had to be said. “The Faery Queen told me the bottle would only catch some of your song. She tricked me. I meant no harm. Please accept my apology.” Her throat tightened as she added, “She took Dog—my cerberus.”

The sharp line of the Valkyrie’s jaw clenched and she rose to her feet, turning her face back to the Fae. There was no telling what the commander of