Snakeroot

by Andrea Cremer

  “The future?” Sabine frowned at the Arrow. “How does that work?”

  “You’re a Guardian who became an ally,” Anika replied. “You represent the potential for peace.”

  “I represent peace?” Sabine laughed, glancing at Ethan. “She doesn’t know me very well, does she?”

  “You expect me to walk into that trap?” Ethan lifted his eyebrows. Sabine jabbed an elbow into his ribs.

  “As painful as it will be,” Anika told them, ignoring Ethan and Sabine’s exchange, “we need to keep Holt happy, within reason. The goal here is a united front. If we don’t get to Logan in time, we may be looking at the beginning of a new war.”

  “We get it, Anika,” Ethan said. “We can suck up to Holt for the greater good.”

  “All right then.” Anika smiled at him. “Let’s go.”

  They waited outside the door to Holt’s offices in Pyralis for at least five minutes before someone finally came to greet them.

  “I appreciate your taking the time to speak with us,” Anika said.

  “I assume you’d like to reach a détente.” Holt didn’t bother to stand when they filed into the room.

  Two Strikers flanked Holt, standing tall and silent, with their weapons displayed prominently. They were even wearing sunglasses. And while the crystals running through the walls of Pyralis boasted the bright, flickering tones of burning flames, the shades were just unnecessary. Sabine wished she could tell them how lame they looked, but that wouldn’t make Anika very happy.

  Holt gazed at them from his seat, wearing a smug smile, as if he were a king sitting upon a throne and about to receive petitioners.

  Watching him, Sabine thought, A man who feels it necessary to flaunt his power has no real power at all.

  If he hadn’t been making such a mess of things at the Academy, Sabine might have felt a little sorry for Holt. He was a petty man grasping at power, his ambition no doubt fueled by self-doubt and fear.

  “I’d still like to think we have the same goals,” Anika said to Holt. “Goals that compel us to work together rather than against one another.”

  “And what is your goal, Anika?” Holt asked.

  “The same as it has ever been,” Anika replied. “To protect the earth from the corruption of the Nether.”

  “You say that.” Holt leaned back in his chair. “And yet you seek to hinder my efforts to rid our world of the lingering threat posed by the Keepers who survived the war.”

  “You’re right.” Anika clasped her hands behind her back. “We don’t see eye to eye on that issue. But new information has come to my attention that I wanted to share with you before I brought it to the other guides. Something that requires immediate action.”

  Holt straightened up. “Really? I’m intrigued.”

  Of course you are, Sabine thought. The offer of exclusive access to information. She was surprised he wasn’t drooling all over his desk.

  “You heard about the incident in the garden,” Anika said, waiting until Holt nodded. “It turns out that the robbery at Rowan Estate and the other event were connected. The girl who was found on the grounds of Rowan Estate, Ariadne, has recently gone missing. And until early this morning, Tristan’s wife—Sarah—was missing as well. We’ve learned from Sarah that they were together and it was at the behest of Logan Bane.”

  “The Keeper? Whose house we just raided?”

  “It wasn’t Logan’s house,” Ethan corrected. “He was just staying there.”

  Holt gave Ethan a sour look.

  “Sorry,” Ethan mumbled.

  “Logan has been attempting to make contact with the Harbinger,” Anika continued, hurrying past the awkward moment. “He’s using magic to reach through the veil and apparently he’s been successful. The Harbinger wants to return to our world, and Logan Bane is serving him in this quest.”

  “Can you run that by me again?” Holt asked.

  He listened as Anika repeated the information they’d gathered from Sarah Doran. When she finished, he nodded.

  “So it all comes down to the Harbinger,” Holt said. “The great Nether lord who was expelled from the earth when the Scion closed the Rift.”

  “Yes,” Anika said, wearing a smile but clearly losing patience.

  “And according to Sarah Doran, the Harbinger is planning his great comeback.”

  Uh-oh. Sabine threw a worried glance at Ethan. He gave a slight nod, confirming her fears.

  “Do you have any other evidence?” Holt asked the Arrow.

  “Other evidence?” Anika repeated with a frown.

  “Forgive me,” Holt continued, “but the story you’ve presented is a bit far-fetched and, as far as I can tell, supported by rather unreliable sources.”

  “Ariadne and Sarah are hardly unreliable,” Anika countered.

  “I’m afraid there are other reasons I’m not particularly inclined to believe you.” Holt glanced at Sabine. “For example, the company you keep.”

  “I guess I’m not the future after all,” Sabine murmured.

  “Seriously?” Ethan scoffed at Holt. “Did you sleep through the end of the war? We would have lost without the help of Guardians.”

  “I’m not entirely convinced that’s true,” Holt replied, straightening his jacket. “From what I’ve observed, the end of the war saw far too many compromises of what Searchers always stood for. We tainted ourselves by making deals with the devil. I’m trying to undo that damage and restore our cause to its former glory.”

  “Former glory?” Sabine laughed. “You mean all those years that you were losing? Someone needs a history lesson.”

  “I’d rather not learn my history from a Guardian.” Holt regarded Sabine with disdain. “I maintain a healthy doubt about where your loyalties lie.”

  “Take that back.” Ethan’s hand was on his dagger hilt.

  Sabine shot Anika a warning look.

  “We’re here to talk.” Anika put her hand on Ethan’s arm. “Not fight.”

  “I don’t mean to give offense.” Holt raised his hands in apology. “I only speak the truth as I see it.”

  “The truth as you see it?” Ethan spat. “What kind of crap is that?”

  “Ethan.” Anika’s tone silenced Ethan, but he pushed his duster back to keep the hilt of his dagger in Holt’s view.

  “A few items stolen from a library and some cockamamie tales don’t add up to a conspiracy to restore the Harbinger’s power,” Holt said.

  “These aren’t just cockamamie tales,” Tristan objected. “Logan Bane is a direct descendant of Bosque Mar. Logan’s existence grants Bosque the ability to keep a tenuous connection to this world. And I’m certain he’s planning to use Logan to try to reopen the Rift.”

  “What are you talking about?” Holt glared at Tristan for interrupting his catalog of objections.

  “The truth of it was closely guarded by the Keepers,” Tristan told him. “But Eira wasn’t just the first Keeper, she was the mother of Bosque’s children, and her bloodline was what sustained Bosque’s ties to this world. That’s why my son, Shay, could banish him. And that’s why Logan Bane can summon him now.”

  Holt gave Tristan a long look. “If what you say is true, then you, Tristan, also share Eira’s bloodline.”

  “I do,” Tristan said.

  “It follows then that you pose an equal threat to our cause, since you also have the power to open the Rift.” Holt gave Tristan an ugly smile. “It’s in your blood, after all.”

  “Lock me up if you want to,” Tristan snapped at Holt. “But don’t pretend what I’ve said isn’t true.”

  “I don’t believe throwing you in a cell is necessary, Tristan. Not unless you continue to incite dissention in the Searcher ranks by causing a panic.” Holt stood up. “Let me tell you what I think. A clearly troubled girl has run off, no doubt in a desperate ploy for attention. And a woman deranged by grief concocts stories about the reemergence of the Harbinger, and you believe her?”

  The veins in Tristan’s neck bulg
ed, but he remained silent.

  Ethan leaned over to Sabine. “It’s really good that we didn’t bring Connor.”

  “No kidding.”

  Holt shook his head. “I’ve been debating whether or not to go forward with a particular matter, and you’ve just made it clear that I must. I’m bringing up a vote of no confidence at the next Council meeting. You’ve had a tenuous grasp on power and now you’re making desperate ploys to maintain your authority. You aren’t fit to be the Arrow, Anika.”

  Sabine waited for Anika to jump onto the desk and kick Holt in the face, because Sabine thought that would be a perfectly appropriate reaction, but the Arrow just nodded.

  “Do what you have to do, Holt. We’ll leave you to your business.”

  Anika pivoted on her heel and walked out of the room. The others began to follow, but Sabine lagged behind.

  “Tell me, Holt,” she said. “Did you hear the story of how I killed my former master? You know, Efron Bane?”

  Holt’s eyes widened only slightly, but it was enough to make Sabine smile.

  “Good.” Sabine nodded. “I just wanted to be sure.”

  She caught up to the others in the hall. Anika was walking at a fast clip out of Pyralis, slowing only when they were well away from Holt’s office.

  “I guess we can’t count on a united front,” Tristan said.

  Anika nodded. “I wish I could say I’m surprised.”

  “What now?” Ethan asked.

  “We deal with this ourselves,” Anika said. “Sabine and Ethan, go get Connor. I’ll find Tess, Shiloh, and Mikaela. Meet us in Tactical with gear for a mission.”

  “A mission?” Ethan frowned at her. “Do we know where Logan is?”

  “No,” Anika admitted. “But I’m hoping that by putting our heads together we’ll be able to figure it out.”

  Sabine grabbed Ethan’s hand. “Come on.”

  The knowledge that she’d be going into the field, that she’d be in the fight again, thrilled Sabine in a way that took her by surprise. She’d have to learn to rely on weapons instead of her teeth, but that also struck Sabine as exciting. A new adventure.

  “You okay?” Ethan glanced at Sabine and then down at their hands, and she realized she’d been crushing his fingers in her grip.

  “Yeah.” Sabine smiled at him. She knew she was no longer a wolf, but inside, she was howling.

  THE SMALL PARTY of Searchers bearing the news that the Harbinger posed an immediate threat to the world had spent a good part of the afternoon arguing about what to do with that information. There had been an even split between those who believed Holt could be reasoned with and those who expected him to continue acting like the ass he was. They had all agreed, however, that Connor should not be part of the group that reached out to Holt.

  Except Connor.

  Connor absolutely thought he should be part of that team.

  “What happens when you need someone to punch him?” Connor had asked. “Because there will obviously be a point in the conversation where hitting him becomes necessary.”

  And with that question, Anika had ordered Connor to the barracks, where he could punch inanimate objects for as long as he liked, but he was much less likely to muck up an important meeting.

  So while his friends tried to save the world via diplomatic negotiations with a dick, Connor set about the important task of hitting things. Because that’s what the others thought he was good for. Hitting.

  Despite his resentment, Connor threw himself into the work of jabbing, kicking, and elbowing the heavy bag that hung in one corner of the training room. It wasn’t long before he’d broken a sweat. Connor stripped off his shirt and kept going.

  He didn’t hear anyone enter the room, but the voice that spoke was suddenly right behind him.

  “You wouldn’t believe how jealous I am right now.”

  Connor whirled around and discovered Renier Laroche standing no more than a foot away. Ren nodded at the punching bag.

  “To be able to hit things,” Ren added. “I really miss it. Particularly when I have to spend so much time listening to Logan.”

  “Is that why you’re here?” Connor asked. “Logan sent you back with a message for me? If he didn’t send flowers too, tell him he needs to class up his act.”

  “I’m not here for Logan,” Ren answered. “I’m here for Adne.”

  Connor turned back to the bag, this time working on uppercuts. “So even as a ghost, you want to play big brother. Are you going to tell me that I messed up? That I should have seen this coming?”

  “Did you see it coming?” Ren asked.

  Connor kept hitting the bag. “Maybe.”

  “Could you elaborate a little more?”

  “Why?” Connor replied. “You’ve been around, haven’t you? I mean, you’ve seen her. You’ve seen what Adne’s been like. You’re no Casper, but if you’re a ghost, I assume you can keep tabs on whoever you like. Except for when you’re running an errand for that bratty warlock.”

  “That’s a pretty good description of my life, actually,” Ren said with a dry laugh. “And you’re right. I have been watching Adne, and I don’t like what I’ve seen.”

  “That makes two of us,” Connor growled, bringing his knee up hard into the bag.

  “Really?” Ren gave a low whistle. “Knee to the crotch. You fight dirty.”

  “Whatever it takes,” Connor said.

  “See, that’s what I always thought about you,” Ren commented as Connor threw more jabs at the bag. “You go for the throat. No hesitation. No regrets. You’re a fighter through and through.”

  “I’m a Striker.” Connor sent the bag spinning with an uppercut. “It’s in the job description.”

  “You say that,” Ren replied. “But we both know it’s always been more.”

  Connor grabbed the bag, breathing hard, and looked at Ren. “What’s your point?”

  “That you’ve been acting out of character,” Ren said. “Or rather, not acting. You’ve been benchwarming, when you’re a starter. What’s the deal?”

  “Too many metaphors, man.” Connor picked up a towel and mopped sweat from his face. “Try again.”

  “Why didn’t you stop my sister?” Ren’s question came with a snarl that made Connor’s skin crawl. “You saw what was happening to her, but you did nothing. You let her go to him.”

  “I didn’t let her do anything. No one can tell Adne what to do, and no one can stop her when she makes her mind up about anything.” Connor turned on the wolf and shouted, “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? You might be her blood, but you barely knew Adne. I’ve loved her for years.”

  Ren said quietly, “Then why haven’t you been fighting for her?”

  “Go screw yourself.”

  “That would be a neat trick, but I prefer company.” Ren glanced around the room, surveying the weapons that hung on racks along the walls. “Answer my question. You’re a fighter, so why didn’t you fight for Adne?”

  “Maybe I don’t know how,” Connor snapped.

  “Wrong answer,” Ren said. “We’ve already established that you know how. You helped win the war. I know. I was there.”

  “So?”

  “So at the eleventh hour, when all the odds were against us, you crashed into Bosque Mar’s mansion like you had nothing to lose,” Ren replied. “When you fight, you’re fearless.”

  “Are you trying to tell me I’m afraid now?” Connor frowned at Ren. “Are you calling me a coward?”

  “Something like that,” Ren answered. “Though coward wouldn’t be my word of choice. I’d rather use a phrase. My description of you would be ‘paralyzed by fear.’”

  “Really?” Connor smirked. “You just claimed that the last time you saw me in a fight I was fearless. So how is it that I’m so afraid now?”

  “Because now it’s not the war that you’re fighting for, it’s Adne,” Ren said. “It would be easier for you to have the world end than it would be to lose her.”

&n
bsp; Connor didn’t respond. Ren might not have been corporeal, but his words hit like a sucker punch.

  “You know, as her brother, I put that in the plus column for you,” Ren added.

  “Thanks.” Connor picked up a water bottle and took several gulps. “So why did you come to find me?”

  “Because I’m starting to see how this is going to play out,” Ren said. “Benefit of the not-quite-afterlife or something. It’s going to be ugly. For everyone, but especially for Adne.”

  Connor grimaced. “So you’re the motivational speaker, I see.”

  Ren laughed. “That’s going to help you. Humor. As annoying as it is, it will help.”

  “We all have our gifts.” Connor frowned at Ren. “Is that all?”

  “She needs a champion,” Ren said, all mirth gone from his face. “And it has to be you.”

  “What are you talking about?” Connor asked. “A champion? Are you going to tell me to go find the One Ring now?”

  “I’ve already told you,” Ren answered. “I’ve seen the shape of things to come. This is how it’s going down. I’m just giving you some advance notice.”

  Connor grunted to hide his confusion. “Don’t you want to be champion?”

  “It’s hard to be champion when you can’t pick up a sword.”

  “Right.” Connor looked at Ren. Tall, strong, ready to fight. It had to suck. “You know, kid, I’m sorry about how things ended for you. You deserved better.”

  Ren shrugged. “How often do people get what they deserve? Good or bad.”

  “Very Zen.” Connor took another swig of water.

  “I suppose,” Ren said with a slight smile. “I may be dead, but apparently I still have choices. So I could brood and mope and try my best to learn how to rattle chains. Or I can try to save my sister.”

  A shiver traveled through Connor’s limbs. “Point taken.”

  Connor regarded Ren for a minute, then said, “I can’t believe Logan would put his stamp of approval on this conversation. So forgive the turn of phrase, but how did you get off your leash?”