Thinking about it was too complicated so I shoved it aside. There would be time to puzzle over this later.
“Have you made any progress with the ifrit’s box?” Evdokia asked. “You’ve been talking to Bahir and his people. Did you learn anything?”
“I can’t figure out how it works. I talked to some very smart, educated people about it. They can’t figure out how it works either. We don’t have the box itself anymore, so we can’t examine it. All we have are the incantations, which are a variant of a typical ward, infused with divine power. I don’t know where to go from here.”
“None of us have as much power over the future as you,” Sienna said.
“She means you have to do something,” Maria snapped.
“Do what?” I looked at her. She had been powerful for too long to flinch, but a hint of uncertainty showed in her eyes. “Well? I’m waiting for your wisdom.”
“Do anything,” the crone said. “We gave you this city—”
“No. I took the city. I took it by myself and I protected it from my father’s claiming. You didn’t help. You weren’t there.”
Maria’s eyes blazed. “Remember who you’re talking to!”
“You should take your own advice.”
The cave fell completely silent. The witches stared at me. Sienna rubbed her throat, as if something was choking off her air.
The storm I’d had to contain this morning simmered under my skin. My father would kill Curran or our son. There was nothing I could do to stop him.
The magic inside me boiled. I had to vent or it would tear me apart. I looked up to the patch of light and sky above me and let it go.
The magic burst from me, surging upward, into the sky. The water of the basin rose in the air, stretching into a thousand glittering strands, revealing the rocky bottom of the pool. Power and fury poured out of me, flowing like a raging river.
The pressure eased. I shut off the current. The water crashed back into the basin.
“Oh, Katenka,” Evdokia whispered.
Maria made a small choking noise. Sienna scrambled over to her. “Roman, help me. She needs some fresh air.”
Together they lifted the old witch off her seat and led her outside.
“I saw my father this morning,” I told Evdokia. The sky above me was so blue. If only I could sprout wings and fly far away from all my problems. “He kidnapped Saiman. He’s refusing to release him and I can’t ignore it. There will be war. I’ve signed my husband’s and my child’s death warrants.”
Evdokia looked at me, her face at once sad and kind. “No. You didn’t. We foresaw this days ago. One way or the other, it would’ve come to pass.”
I came and sat by her. She reached out and stroked my hair. It felt so familiar. She must’ve done it when I was little, before Voron took me away.
“Help me.” My voice came out quiet and ragged.
“Anything in my power,” she promised. “All my magic is yours. I wish I knew what to do.”
Sienna came back into the cave and sat by me.
“Why haven’t the three of you left?” I asked.
“Because this is our city,” Evdokia said. “Our home. We can’t all leave, Katenka. The future will find us.”
“Roman is right,” Sienna said. “The future is fluid. But when it’s this close and this certain, you have to do something really big to change it. Something that will alter everything. Something nobody would expect.”
“I don’t have any Rubicons to cross,” I told her.
“Find one,” Sienna said. “If anybody can do it, you can.”
CHAPTER
4
THE MAGIC WAVE ended on our way back to the city and technology once again reasserted itself. When we got back to the office, it was early afternoon and nobody was there. Ascanio must have bailed early. My mammoth donkey was also MIA, probably back at our home, in the stables. I dropped Roman off, went into the office, and pulled a legal pad to me. I always thought better with a pen in hand.
I wrote Choices on the piece of paper and stared at it.
Fight my father now, before he expects a direct assault.
Wait until my father attacks.
Play ball.
Choice number one was right out. I still had no idea how to defeat my father. I’d felt his power this morning and while I could hold my own, if he gave it his all, he would crush me. Also, I had no army. I could ask the Pack and the Witches for help, but they would expect some sort of strategy besides “let’s all run at Roland’s castle and get killed.”
Choice number two wasn’t much better. In theory, I was supposed to be able to protect Atlanta after claiming it. In practice, I had no idea how. When I reached for the magic of the land, it was like a placid ocean. Within its depths, life moved and shimmered. The waters were capable of storms, but I had no idea how to start one.
Choice number three was what my father wanted. That alone should’ve been enough to stop me. Except when I closed my eyes, I saw two lifeless bodies. If I went to him now, if I left Curran, he would survive. My father couldn’t kill my child if the child didn’t exist.
I loved them both. I loved my unborn future baby. I loved Curran, his eyes, his laugh, his smile. I woke up next to him, I ate breakfast with him, we went to work together, and we came home together. That was the core of who I was: Curran, Julie, Derek, even Grendel, the family I’d made. It was my life, the one I fought for, the one I built and wanted. We were together. That was how things were.
If I went to serve my father, I would save them, at least for a little while. But I was only good at one thing: killing. Sooner or later my father would use me in that capacity and then I would be taking someone else’s Curran or Kate away from them. Because people would oppose my father, the kind of people who were bothered by crosses with human beings dying on them, and I would have to kill them.
I couldn’t do it. I’d been Voron’s attack dog for the first fifteen years of my life. I wouldn’t be one again.
I crossed the list out and started over.
New Plan
Get Awesome Cosmic Powers.
Nuke my dad.
Retire from the land-claiming business.
I was so down with this plan. If only I had some way to implement it.
Maybe someone would bring me a magic scroll, an incantation that would magically imprison my father in some cave. I would totally be willing to help old ladies carry wood, spin straw into gold, or go on a quest for that kind of scroll.
I stared at the door. Come on, magic scroll.
Come on.
Nope.
I needed to get out of the office and go home. I would feel better at home.
I would get home, work out, cook a big dinner because I felt like it, and figure out what I had to do about Saiman and my father.
• • •
WHEN I PULLED up to the house, Christopher was sitting in the driveway on the grass. That’s right. The meditation.
Living under Barabas’s care agreed with Christopher. Left to his own devices in the Keep, he often forgot about food and after a couple of weeks of self-imposed starvation, he’d look like a stiff wind would make him keel over, until Barabas or I would notice and make him eat. Now that he was staying in the house next to us, Barabas had assumed responsibility for Christopher’s health, and the weremongoose could be extremely single-minded.
I did my best to help. Between the two of us, Christopher ate on time, bathed every day, went with Barabas to the Guild, where he got regular exercise, and wore clean clothes. He was still thin, but his skin had a good color to it, and despite his pale, nearly colorless hair, he no longer looked like a ghost.
The only thing we couldn’t heal was his mind. All the outside pressures were gone now. Christopher was safe, sheltered, fed, and among friends, but his mental health hadn’t impr
oved. We had taken him to Emory University School of Medicine, to Duke University, and even to Johns Hopkins, which was a trip I was doing my best to forget. We almost died, and while we were away, a local family we knew was murdered. Julie and Derek had handled it, but thinking about it still turned my stomach.
The doctors were in consensus: physically Christopher was fine. Psychologically he didn’t match any specific disorder. Christopher always claimed that my father had shattered his mind. The people at Emory and Duke had agreed that someone had magically destroyed his psyche. The psychiatrist at Johns Hopkins was an exceptional empath, with the power to feel what others felt. After he spoke to Christopher, he said the trauma to his psyche was self-inflicted. Something bad had happened to Christopher. He refused to confront it, he didn’t want to remember it, and so he deliberately remained as he was. Christopher offered no feedback. He sat quietly and smiled sadly through it all. He held the key to his own healing and there wasn’t much any of us could do to get him to turn it.
I got out of the car. Christopher looked at me from his spot in the grass among the yellow dandelions and wild daisies. Since most of our annoying neighbors had moved away and taken the budding homeowners’ association with them, Curran mowed the grass when he felt like it, and he didn’t feel like killing the dandelions.
“Meditation?” Christopher asked.
“Not today,” I told him. The last place I wanted to be was in my own head. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay.”
To ask about the book or not to ask? If I asked him and he freaked out, I’d kick myself. Better talk to Barabas first.
“Where is Maggie?”
Christopher pulled out a canvas bag from behind him. A black furry head poked out and looked at me with the saddest brown eyes ever to belong to a dog. Maggie was an eight-pound creature that was probably part long-haired Chihuahua and part something very different. She was small and odd, and her black fur stuck out in wispy strands in strange places. She walked gingerly, always slightly awkward, and if she thought she was in trouble, she’d lift one of her paws and limp, pretending to be injured. Her greatest ambition in life was to lie on someone’s lap, preferably under a blanket.
After Johns Hopkins, Barabas told me he wasn’t giving up. I told him I wasn’t either. I came up with daily meditation. Barabas came up with Maggie.
The little dog looked at me, turned, and crawled back into the bag. Right.
“Have you seen Curran or Julie?”
Christopher shook his head.
A Pack Jeep turned onto our street and slid to a stop in front of our house. The window rolled down and Andrea stuck her blond head out. “I’m free! Free!”
Oh boy. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the Keep?” I could’ve sworn Raphael told me during the Conclave that Doolittle had confined her to the medward.
“Screw that. We’re going to lunch.”
“It’s almost dinnertime.”
“Then we’re going to dinch. Or lunner. Or whatever the hell early-dinner-late-lunch stupid combo we can come up with.”
“Now isn’t . . .”
Andrea’s eyes blazed. “Kate, I’m nine months pregnant and I’m hungry. Get in the damn car.”
I got in the Jeep, and Andrea peeled out like a bat out of hell.
“We’re going to Parthenon. We’re going to have gyros.” Her stomach was out so far, she must’ve moved the seat back, because she had to stretch to reach the wheel.
“The look of grim determination on your face is scary,” I told her.
“I’ve been cooped up in the Keep’s infirmary for the past two weeks,” Andrea said.
“Why?”
She waved her hand. “Because Doolittle is a worrywart.”
Crap. “Andrea, does Doolittle know where you are?”
“Yes.”
“You sure about that?”
“Absolutely. I’ve let him know. Anyway, we are going to lunch!”
“Andr—”
“To lunch!” She flashed her teeth at me.
I shut up and let her drive.
Twenty minutes later she parked in front of Parthenon, and then I watched her try to get out of the Jeep. She scooted back into her seat as far as she could, then slowly edged out one leg, then half of her butt, then half her stomach. Andrea was short and the Jeep sat really high. Her foot was dangling down. I would offer to help, but she was armed at all times and could shoot the dots out of dominoes, and I didn’t want to get murdered.
“Are you going to help me or not?” she growled.
I grabbed her arm and steadied her as she stepped out. “I thought you might shoot me.”
“Ha-ha. Hilarious.” She opened her eyes really wide. A ruby sheen rolled over her irises. “I smell food.”
Uh-oh. “We are going to get food. Right now.”
We burst through the doors of Parthenon like Greeks through the open gates of Troy. Five minutes later we were seated at our usual table in the garden section despite two flights of stairs, which Andrea insisted on climbing, and the heat of late afternoon. The owners had finally gotten rid of the chairs that were bolted to the floor, and I sat so I could watch the door and the two women on the right, who were the only other diners willing to brave the garden section in the heat. We ordered a heaping platter of meat, a pint of tzatziki sauce, and a bucket of fried okra, because Andrea really wanted it, and waited for our food.
She drank her iced tea and sighed.
“How’s it going?”
She looked at me. “Is this a serious question? Are you really asking or just making conversation?”
“When have I ever just made conversation?”
“Okay.” Andrea sipped some tea. “Well, I’m mean, too harsh, and I rule the clan like an iron-fisted bitch.”
“Aha.” I had no idea how anyone could lead the bouda clan. They were all nuts.
“Last Tuesday Lora, Karen, Thomas, and the new kid, Kyle, were coming home from a bar where they tried to get drunk.”
Getting drunk for a shapeshifter was a losing proposition. Their metabolism treated alcohol as poison, which it was, and purged it as fast as it entered the bloodstream. Curran had to guzzle an entire bottle of vodka to get a buzz for fifteen minutes, and since he hated the taste, he stuck to beer instead.
“So the way back took these four geniuses by the College of Mages.”
Oh boy.
“The College of Mages happens to own a polar bear.”
Better and better. “How did they get a polar bear?”
“Apparently it wandered out of the woods near Macon and it was glowing at the time, and some mages happened to be on a field trip, so they apprehended the polar bear and brought him back to the college to figure out what his deal is. They built him a very nice enclosure.”
“Okay.” Typical post-Shift thing.
“The ladies wanted to see the polar bear and the two guys didn’t have the balls to say no, so they broke into the climate-controlled enclosure and then Lora decided to pet the bear, because it ‘liked her.’”
Our gyros arrived. She picked up her first one, bit off a small piece, and chewed with obvious pleasure. “Where was I?”
“Adventurous bear petting.”
“Yeah, well, the bear petted her back.”
I laughed in spite of myself.
“I can’t blame the bear.” Andrea opened her eyes wide. “If some whiskey-soaked hyena-smelling human came toward me while I was trying to nap in my nice house, I’d pet it too. With my claws.”
“Did the bear survive?”
“He survived. He was roughed up, the four of them bled all over the place trying to get the bear off Lora without hurting him, and of course, they got busted. They all got three weeks of Keep labor and that was too harsh and too mean. Never mind that I’ve got the College of Mages brea
thing down my neck about their bear being emotionally compromised and the Atlanta PAD wanting to file trespassing charges, but oh no, I was too harsh.” She stopped eating for a second. “Do you know what one of them told me? He said that Aunt B would’ve never been that hard on them. Aunt B! Can you believe that shit?”
“She would’ve pulled their legs out.” Aunt B hadn’t played around.
“Who is this kinder, gentler Aunt B that they remember? I was her beta. I know exactly what kind of punishment that woman doled out. Other than that, I’m the size of a house, I can’t even take a decent bite of my food or it will hurt, this kid is kicking me in the kidneys like a champ, and everyone else treats me like I’m made of glass.” She looked at me for a moment. “And every waking moment I’m terrified that my baby will go loup at birth, and when I’m asleep, I have nightmares about it.”
Both of Raphael’s brothers went loup. “You’ve been taking the panacea.”
“I know,” she said.
“You’re also beastkin. Your form is very steady. You aren’t usually in danger of going loup even when you are badly hurt.”
“I know.” She sighed. “I know, I know, I know. I just want it all to be okay. I want to give birth to my healthy baby and be happy.”
So did I.
“Your turn.” Andrea pointed her second gyro at me. “How’s it going? Not making conversation.”
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. There was so much.
Andrea stopped eating. “What is it?”
I struggled with it.
“Kate, is it the wedding? If you don’t want to marry that jackass, you don’t have to marry him. Say the word, and the clan will come and get you and Julie. He might be a lion, but I have the whole hyena clan.”
“It’s complicated.”
She put her gyro down. “I’m listening.”
Her tone told me there would be no getting out of it.
So I told her about my dad and the crosses, the slap, the urge to crush him, snapping at Barabas, the witches, and watching Curran and my son die.
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