Keystone

by Chloe Adler

  She rubs the back of her neck, fanning out her dark hair. “Yesterday I caught him in my room.”

  Eww, that’s creepy. Even if she is duplicitous, no one wants Bob in their room.

  “He was opening my drawers and rifling through my stuff when I came in.”

  “What? That’s fucked up,” I say.

  She glances at me, her eyes misty. Is this an act or is she for real? “It was. I called him on it and he said that my room had been his room before I moved in and he was looking for something he couldn’t find and thought he’d left it in one of the drawers.”

  “Bullshit.” I finally sit down at the table.

  “Right?” she says, eyes wide. “When I asked him what it was, he said it was something personal and he’d rather not say but if I came across it I’d know it was his.”

  Double eww.

  “He was obviously lying. The man’s never been a good liar.” She closes her eyes. “I knew he was looking for the horn, there was no question, so I started carrying the horn with me. I figured he couldn’t steal it if it was on me.”

  “Reasonable assumption,” says Cedar.

  “An hour ago I was leaving my room with the horn tucked into the back of my pants when Jules pushed me from behind, grabbed it and then tripped me. I fell. By the time I got up and ran after her, she’d run down the stairs and out the front door.”

  Jules is a fast runner. She wouldn’t have survived middle school as the shortest in her class otherwise. “But why would she do that?”

  Betty shakes her head. “I don’t know, but I’ve got to get it back. You all know how magically powerful that implement is. If it falls into the wrong hands . . .”

  That’s rich. Are her hands the right ones?

  Betty’s gaze finds mine. “Will you help me?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  My hands are balled into fists at my sides as I pace back and forth in my bedroom, gritting my teeth.

  “It’s just for a few days until we figure out what’s going on.” Cedar sits on my bed, watching me pace, Forrest next to him.

  “I don’t like it. I don’t trust her and I don’t want her here.” I fidget.

  “We don’t trust her and we’d rather not have her here either. You have plenty of reason to feel that way.” Cedar scoots over and pats the space between them.

  I drop down, thankful we’re on the same page.

  Cedar rubs my back. “But she has nowhere else to go, and whether any of us like it or not, she’s integral to the future of Tara, thanks to her connection to Azotar.”

  That’s true. “Can we put her in a hotel?”

  “We could, but what if she runs? Or worse, what if Bob or Cheryl nab her? This way we can keep an eye on her and she’ll be under our protection.”

  That does make sense. “Okay. I just hope you can control her.”

  Forrest takes my hand, intertwining my fingers with his. “Keep your friends close and your enemies . . .”

  “In your house?” I scoff.

  “In this instance, yes.”

  Cedar stands. “I’m going to the spell room for a little bit.” He gives me a meaningful look—ah, he must be tinkering with whatever it was he wanted to show me before Betty interrupted. “I’ll be back in an hour. If you’re both still awake . . .”

  “You’ll join us?” I let go of Forrest and stand, wrapping my arms around Cedar’s neck.

  “I’d love to.” He meets my lips, dipping his tongue inside for a kiss. He cradles the back of my head and probes deeper. My body melts in his arms and when he finally lets go I turn back to Forrest. He’s propped himself up on my pillows, wearing a huge smile.

  I leap onto the bed and straddle him. The click of the door as Cedar leaves doesn’t deter me from my task. Forrest puts his hands up in the air as I work his T-shirt over his head. Leaning forward, I press my body into his, rubbing my chest against his. I move a hand down to his crotch and squeeze, hard, then soft, my touch unpredictable and keeping him on edge.

  He catches my hand in his and rolls me over so he’s the one straddling me. His kiss is long and deep. When he pulls back, he gazes into my eyes. “Amaya, you touch me in ways I can only express via poetry. I’d like to recite something I wrote for you last night. It’s called ‘Moments.’ ”

  He takes a deep breath, then lets his velvet-smooth voice roll over me:

  * * *

  thank you for

  the softness

  of your touch

  * * *

  the moments in between

  where I lose myself in you

  * * *

  the fragrance of your thoughts

  bejeweled incense on my tongue

  * * *

  a momentary lapse

  where

  time ceases to exist at all

  * * *

  the rhythmic beats

  of your heart

  bring me back

  comfort

  * * *

  but only for a moment

  and then gone again

  * * *

  flying within

  and over

  your exquisite soul

  * * *

  the stopping to start

  breathing to wait

  holding to let go

  Chapter Twenty

  The morning is glorious, sandwiched between Forrest and Cedar, held in a firm embrace by both. Arch and Bodhi peek their heads in, smiling, and I welcome them into my bed as well. The four of us laze around for another hour. Each of my men kisses and caresses me, taking turns tasting, touching and pleasing me. When they all pile out, I fall back asleep with a huge grin on my face.

  The grin disappears as my dreams start up. I should be happy—Vasily is here finally, and I’ve missed him so. But as soon as I touch him, he drifts away, then turns into mist. I cry out for him, then for all my men. But no one comes, no matter how pitiful my cries for them.

  Thankfully, a knock on my door startles me out of the nightmare. “Come in.” Whoever it is, I will kiss them all over for getting me out of that.

  The door cracks open and Betty’s face appears.

  Oh hell no. I sit straight up and pull the covers over my naked body.

  “I’m so sorry,” she says. “I can come back later.”

  “No, you’re already here.” And my curiosity is piqued. “What’s up?”

  “Thank you. I really don’t know who else to talk to.”

  “Come in. Can you hand me my robe?” I point to the bathroom. “It’s hanging on the back of the door.”

  She enters, closes the door behind her and retrieves my robe. After handing it to me, she turns around so I can put it on.

  I slip into it, tying the silk belt around my waist. “Okay, I’m decent.”

  She spins back around, her eyebrows raised. I jut my chin to a chair under my window, and she pulls it closer to my bed and sits down. “Thank you for giving me a minute.”

  I nod stiffly.

  “I fucked up big time.” She winces. “I don’t know what I can do now to make it right. You know I did it for love, and love makes you do desperate things.”

  My heart softens. “Yes, it’s true, but it’s still no excuse for threatening to kill people. That’s just not right, no matter how you slice it.”

  “You’re right.” She looks down at her hands. “That wasn’t my best decision, even if it was the only thing I could come up with at the time. But Amaya . . .” She spreads her hands open. “I didn’t know you then, not like I do now.”

  I raise my brows.

  “Sorry, sorry. I still don’t really know you, but listening to the men talk about you, it’s as if . . .” She shuts her eyes and tosses her head. “Forget it, I sound like a damn idiot.” Opening her eyes, she looks at me, wincing.

  She looks small and lost right now, not dangerous or crazy. I sit back down on my bed, motioning for her to sit across from me. “Go on.”

  She takes a seat. “Thirty years ago, give or take
a few years, I had my first glimpse into Tara using my crystal ball.”

  “Wait, what? Thirty years ago? How old are you?”

  Her jaw clenches. “You do know the lifespan of witches and vampires far outpace that of humans?”

  I did know that. “Yes but you—”

  “I’m older than I look. Like many other Signum here in the Edge.”

  I purse my lips, trying to hide my shock. “Yes. I forget these things.” I point to my chest. “Human.”

  “But that’s where you’re wrong.” Her lips curl up. “You’re much more than that. When I was just a kid in the foster care system, I knew another synergist, Laura.” Betty’s eyes turn glassy and she blinks back the tears. “Laura . . .” She pauses again, sniffling. “She’s the one who told me about the magical land of Tara. She brought back a souvenir, just a small rock, but it was all I needed to spy on the land using my crystal ball.”

  “She gave it to you?”

  Betty nods. “Eventually. She hoped to use it with me as a way of bringing me into Tara, to escape the hell of the system, if only for a little while.”

  “Did it work?”

  Her eyes water. “Neither of us was strong enough, our powers weren’t developed yet, but I was still able to use it as an antennae, watching real-time through my crystal ball.”

  “What happened?”

  She looks at me, setting her jaw. “I saw the way the people of Tara treated Azotar, like a second-class citizen, and my heart broke for it. It was the same for me in the system. Each foster family barely tolerated me. Keeping me only for the money they could bilk from the government and ignoring me the rest of the time—or worse.”

  Oh shit, poor Betty. Of course she identified with Azotar. “So what did you do?”

  “I couldn’t do much. I was trapped in the system, too young to have any rights. I was only twelve. And my powers were nascent, too weak to do anything but get me unwanted attention. I begged Laura to go to Tara for me, to be my voice, but she was too scared to go back. Life there had grown dangerous and unpredictable. Eventually she couldn’t even bear to watch what was happening there through my crystal ball. Before she was moved to another foster family, she gave me the rock, told me she couldn’t stand to watch the disarray and suffering there anymore.” Betty shoves her hand into her jeans pocket and pulls out a small stone, worn smooth with worry. Holding it out to me, she smiles. “Go ahead, take it.”

  I reach my hand out slowly, still leery of anything she has to offer. When she places the stone into my outstretched hand, the magic of Tara washes over me. It’s not entirely unpleasant. I nod and quickly hand it back to her, rubbing my hand down the front of my silken robe to rid the prickles left in its wake.

  She brings it up to her lips to kiss before palming it. Holding it in her closed fist, she says, “This was my golden ticket, my television into a world that looked perfect from the outside and was anything but on the inside.”

  “Was it just Azotar they were cruel to, or were there others?”

  She shakes her head, placing the rock back into her front pocket. “Just Azotar. They treated it like their scapegoat. Not everyone did, though. Not Vasily.”

  “So how did you come to meet it? Or have you?”

  She lets out a long sigh. “I’m a dark witch. I studied dream spells and will-based magic, and after Azotar was banished I made my move.”

  I cock my head.

  Her lips tighten. “I pulled it into a dream with me.” Raising her shoulders, she smiles. “We built our relationship there. In dreamland.”

  My eyes widen. “So you’ve never actually met in real life?”

  She shakes her head. “Not yet.”

  No wonder she wants to free it so much. It’s the only way they can be together, it’s the only way they can actually meet face-to-face. “So you saw Azotar at its best and then at its worst?”

  She begins to pace. “You could say that, yes. But it’s always treated me with kindness and respect in dreamland. Even when it was suffering.” She shrugs. “I was the only person who ever loved it for who it was. Who it is. Even Vasily, who was accepting of its choice to remain nonbinary, helped trap it in that monolith.”

  “But it was the only way . . .”

  Betty halts and turns to me, her back rigid with suppressed emotion. “Was it? Vasily helped Azotar return to Tara, but why the monolith?”

  That . . . is a good question. One I hadn’t ever thought to ask before. Vasily did his level best to combat prejudice against Azotar, even bringing it back into the realm post banishment. The king didn’t know he’d be banished for it in trade, thanks to his dead father’s meddling from the grave. But Vasily was a part of the group that constructed the monolith.

  Betty is still waiting for an answer. “I don’t know. But I can make a guess. Perhaps the monolith was the only way he could think of to keep Azotar safe from everyone’s vitriol while also protecting the Tarans from its powers. I’ll bet Vasily hoped that after a short time, Azotar would prove it wasn’t going to harm anyone and he would have time to talk the Tarans out of their ridiculous prejudice. Then he would have let Azotar out.”

  She huffs. “But that didn’t happen, did it?”

  I look away and give a small headshake. “No. Before his death, the old king laid a curse on his son, one that meant his banishment if he ever brought Azotar back. So Vasily never had a chance to set anything right. It’s one of the reasons he was desperate to return to Tara after all his years away, desperate to find me.”

  “And Vasily’s blamed himself? All these years?” She stops pacing.

  “Yes and no, I think. He doesn’t blame himself for the prejudice of his people but he blames himself for the prison he locked Azotar in.”

  “The monolith may be marginally better than the hell it was trapped in previously, but it’s still trapped. And living in a prison is no life at all.” She pushes a strand of dark hair out of her face. “It was another source of our bond. I was trapped in the system for my entire childhood. Trapped, unloved and abused. Just like Azotar. Our hearts break for each other. It’s our deepest connection.” She flops back into the chair under my window.

  The sudden candor from her has aroused uncomfortable sympathy in me. Feeling a little too naked at the moment, I stand up and walk into the closet to change, leaving the door cracked open.

  “I know how all of this sounds, it’s why I’ve never told anyone.” Her voice is strained, an octave higher than usual.

  I don’t respond. What can I say? Should I be touched that I’m the first person she’s told this to? Or is she only unburdening because she has to, because she’s backed into a corner and she needs my help to get out of it? Is this all a new way to manipulate me into doing what she wants?

  “Amaya, I know I’ve done some horrible things. I’m not asking for forgiveness.”

  I exit the closet, wearing my favorite jeans and a T-shirt, and stand in front of the mirror to check my hair.

  “Though I should probably tell you . . .” Betty crosses her arms and drums her fingers against her bicep. “I know what you promised Oceane.”

  What? She knows I guaranteed Azotar’s exodus at the cost of my life? So the other shoe drops. What is she going to extort from me in return for not running to the warlocks right this second?

  “I watched you through my crystal ball,” she continues, pulling the rock out of her pocket and pinching it between thumb and forefinger.

  I study her in the looking glass for another beat before spinning around. “So you’re done pretending to play nice now?”

  Her chin rocks back, like I’ve popped her one in the mouth. “Of course not. I’m trying to work out an amicable deal here, one that benefits both of us.”

  “In what way?”

  “I’ll make sure Azotar leaves peacefully without hurting anyone or anything in the process.”

  “And how will you do that?”

  “Because I’m what it wants to leave Tara for, and if it can bec
ome corporeal like Sabin, we can live here together on Earth as a couple.”

  “But you need me for that. And setting Azotar free on Earth does not sound like a safe compromise, for anyone.”

  She holds out her hands. “I won’t let it hurt anyone here either. We’ll all play nice. I’ll make sure it leaves Tara without a struggle so you can keep your word to Oceane, and your life. I’ll make sure it behaves here on Earth once it gets here.”

  The leaving Tara part is important, but someone needs to watch them on Earth. “How do I know you’re not just saying that to get what you want?”

  Betty shrugs. “You don’t. We’re just going to have to trust each other.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Who would trust this crazy chick after everything she’s done? If I believe her and she screws me, I have everything to lose. My life, the lives of my loved ones, the fate of everyone here on Earth . . .

  “I can’t just trust you, Betty. You need to do something to prove yourself.”

  “What can I do?” she asks.

  “I’m not sure. Hopefully that’s something you’ll figure out.” Soon.

  She inclines her head. “Thank you for your time. I hope that at the very least, you understand my actions and you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

  I purse my lips.

  “In time, perhaps?”

  “Perhaps.” Forgive but not forget.

  She offers me a curt smile and leaves my room, the door clicking shut behind her.

  What the hell was that?

  I reach for my phone and text Jules. I didn’t want to believe Betty about the horn’s theft, at first chalking the story up to an attempt to upset me. But the details of her story were convincing, and now she’s asking for my help . . . I’ve stared at my phone off and on since yesterday, not quite mustering up the courage to ask Jules what happened. But now, I have to acknowledge that Betty may be telling the truth. And the way Jules was acting at Ichor when she summoned me there pretty much solidifies it. Time to face the music.