by Kal Aaron
“Understandable.” Caroline dropped her hand.
Relief flooded Lyssa. The tension in her neck and shoulders vanished.
Jofi misunderstood why she was nervous. She had brought him to protect herself along the way, but her problem with Caroline was something else entirely.
Everyone had secrets they wanted to keep, and that could be hard around a woman who could detect lies. It was one of the simplest spells the woman could pull off with her falsehood essence.
It didn’t matter that they weren’t enemies. They weren’t friends either.
Lyssa had helped Caroline out of a dangerous situation a few years prior, but things could change quickly among the complicated political scene of Sorcerers and Sorceresses. Most Illuminated did not end up as rogues who needed to be put down, but a strong political position was as deadly a weapon as any gun or spell. The more secrets Lyssa hoarded, the safer she’d be should anyone in the Society target her.
“It’s pleasant to see you again,” Caroline said. “I understand you’ve been busy since we last spoke with your move to Arizona and those incidents in Phoenix and Houston. And I assume there are others I might not have heard about. I don’t always avail myself of Society news not related to my interests. I find it tedious.”
Lyssa smiled. “It’s the life of a Torch. Tedious terror.” She chuckled. “It doesn’t lend itself well to cocktail parties and witty discussions about Rembrandt.” She looked around at the paintings. “Do you have any Rembrandts?”
“No.” Caroline smiled.
Lyssa chuckled. “I don’t get to go after peaceful art lovers, and I’d love it if the people I went after would surrender when I show up, but it always ends up a loud conversation. At least I haven’t shot anyone lately. And the ones I did all had it coming.”
“I see,” Caroline replied. “I’m not much for violence as a problem-solving tool, but I’m impressed with you. It’s not that often that a Torch takes down a rogue with such ease.”
“I might not be an assassin, but I don’t want Eclipses to have all the fun,” Lyssa replied. She did her best to inject an amusement she didn’t feel into her tone. “And I had help.”
“So I heard. Aisha Khatri.” Caroline’s smiled verged on condescending. “Another surprise, given your well-known strained relationship. Curious.”
Lyssa shrugged. “Sometimes it’s easiest to give an angry person another target for their rage. And she’s not so bad when she’s not threatening to kill me.”
Caroline cocked her head to the side but said nothing else. The unpleasant silence stretched out.
Lyssa wasn’t sure what it meant. Caroline’s regalia allowed her to see despite her blindfold, but it robbed her conversation partners of the subtle cues about the conversation. They hadn’t had a conversation in years without Caroline wearing her regalia.
Lyssa asked, “What’s this about? Did you need help with something on the violent side of things? I can’t promise anything, and I’ll have to run it by Samuel.”
“Nothing so unpleasant, I assure you.” Caroline’s smile dimmed. “A request came through from Last Remnant. They have a message for you.”
Lyssa’s stomach knotted, and she took a deep breath.
“About what?” Lyssa asked.
“They neglected to share the contents of the message with me. I was told to have you contact them directly and not share details of the message with anyone else.”
Lyssa’s heart rate kicked up. No one on the hidden island home of the Sorcerers idly contacted the outside world without a good reason. Orders from the Tribunal or other general Society business were routed through Elders, who would then talk to those in their area of responsibility.
This had to be something personal. This could be it. They’d finally found her brother.
“Okay,” Lyssa agreed. “This sounds important.”
She’d never given up hope, and the revelations from her last case proved her brother hadn’t died the day everyone claimed. The Tribunal and other Elders likely already knew that and were hiding the truth to cover up some mistake or plot on their part.
Even if they didn’t know about the mysterious memory card she’d recovered, with pictures of Illuminated in and out of their regalia, they might know she had taken down a rogue with dangerous information. Whatever schemes or reasons they had to conceal her brother might have fallen apart.
Caroline opened the door and held out a white-gloved hand. “Please follow me. I’ll take you to the far whisper chamber.”
Chapter Two
Fifteen minutes later, Lyssa’s patience frayed when they wandered through the same hallway a third time. She recognized the paintings and the subtle differences in the striations on the hardwood floors. The constant sorcery coming from Caroline was the reason for their walking in circles, but that didn’t mean Lyssa liked it.
“Do we need to go through this?” she asked. “This mental maze stuff is impressive and all, but I’m kind of in a hurry. I think this is a more important message than you realize.”
“You’re always in a hurry,” Caroline said, her voice remaining soft. “I’ve been entrusted with this special shard. I must do what I can to protect it. All of us can be manipulated, even you. Precautions are necessary. I would hope a Torch could understand that.”
“Fine.” Lyssa sighed. “I’m sorry. Just impatient.”
“Of course. I mean nothing personal by it.”
“Understood.”
They arrived at a plain-looking door after another painful and repetitive five minutes. Someone without sorcery invading the home might have mistaken the door for an out-of-the-way utility closet except for the conspicuous lack of a door handle. Sometimes the most obvious tactics could help protect things.
Caroline pressed her hand against the door and chanted in Latin. The wood sank in, the disruption spreading unevenly. New dips traced complex sigils. A handle grew from the door.
“It’s ready,” Caroline said, inclining her head toward it. “Prepare yourself.”
Lyssa pulled her mask out of her pocket and donned it. She dropped the disguise on her regalia, reverting to the nearly all-black Night Goddess form, the only contrast the white of her skeletal mask.
“Hmm,” Caroline murmured.
“What?” Lyssa reached for the door handle. “Something wrong?” She looked around, but there was no one else in sight.
“You’re a strange woman, Lyssa,” Caroline replied. “I always find myself wondering if your regalia matches your truth. It seems off somehow.”
“My darkness essence disagrees with you?” Lyssa asked.
Caroline smiled thinly. “There is more about our fundamental truths than our essences.”
“Sure. Whatever you say. I’m not that philosophical.” Lyssa pulled open the door. “And I’ve got a message to hear.”
Caroline nodded. “I hope it’s good news.”
“So do I.”
With her regalia mask on, the darkness of the room didn’t bother Lyssa. She entered and carefully walked toward the center, taking care not to disturb the complex web of enchanted strings crisscrossing the area.
Not all shards were weapons. Some, like the room, were complicated combinations of sorcery requiring multiple Sorcerers to create. It was worth it to have a direct line to Last Remnant that didn’t rely on Shadow technology.
Lyssa took a deep breath and spoke the activation incantation. The strings whined before going silent, but their vibrations remained visible.
“Speak.” The man’s voice came from all around her. The word was in Lemurian, his tone annoyed.
Lyssa replied in Lemurian. “I am Lyssa Corti, bearer of the Night Goddess, called Hecate. I have come to receive my message.”
“You will wait,” the man replied.
Lyssa stood there, staring at the shard web. Dealing with anyone on Last Remnant required more finesse and restraint than she liked. She’d also never been more eager to hear a message in her life. All the pain
of the last fifteen years could be wiped away in the next few minutes.
She took shallow breaths and tapped her feet. There was nothing to distract her. The silence continued on the other end.
It would be a good message. It had to be.
The silence ended without warning when the man said, “Your message is as follows: the Northern Trickster has returned to the Vault of Dreams.”
Lyssa’s knees buckled, but she didn’t fall. Bile rose in the back of her throat. A more substantial breakfast might have escaped her stomach.
The man delivered the message like he was reading the next day’s forecast. It didn’t matter that the previous bearer of the Northern Trickster had been her brother. The return of any regalia to the vault meant only one thing: the Illuminated bound to that regalia was dead.
“W-what?” Lyssa stammered. “That’s impossible. Please repeat what you said.”
“The Northern Trickster regalia has returned to the Vault of Dreams,” the man replied. “That is the entirety of the message.”
“That can’t be right,” Lyssa shouted. “Not after everything I’ve done. Not after how close I’ve come.”
Her brother hadn’t looked like a prisoner in the picture she’d found. It proved he had been alive and walking around in public three years prior. He was a highly skilled Torch before he disappeared. There was no way anyone could have taken him down easily, especially after additional years of training and experience.
“There is no ambiguity in the message,” the man replied. “It is delivered. You have no further reason to be in communication with Last Remnant.”
“Fine,” Lyssa muttered through clenched teeth. “Thanks. I’m finished with the communication.”
The strings stopped vibrating. Lyssa staggered out of the room.
“You look unwell,” Caroline said. “Are you all right?”
“No, I’m far from all right. I’m downright bad.” Lyssa glared at the room. “Someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to lie to me. I don’t suppose you can tell if someone’s lying through a far whisper? Some new spell you picked up recently?”
Caroline shook her head. “That’s impossible for me,” she said with a sympathetic look. “You think someone has lied to you? Someone on Last Remnant?”
“Yeah. I think someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to lie to me or to the guy who delivered that message, and I need to figure out who did it.”
“That would be difficult for me to discern without being present.” Caroline turned toward the far whisper room. “But if someone has lied to you, I hope for their sake they’re already running and hiding.”
Chapter Three
Vengeance wasn’t on Lyssa’s mind during her trip from Los Angeles to her foster parents’ home in Cardiff. She barely thought about anything other than the trip, becoming one with her bike as she made full use of her Night Mantle and Tenebrous Air to reach her destination in a little over twenty minutes. Overthinking might be one of her specialties, but she understood there were times she needed to clear her mind.
The brief trip and its accompanying motorcycle meditation had provided a small respite after such a painful message. She didn’t want to accept the implications, but that didn’t tell her how to proceed. Even a Sorceress couldn’t travel to Last Remnant with ease.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Jofi asked. He’d been quiet for most of the trip.
“No, not yet,” she replied. “I’m still processing things.”
“As you wish.”
The trip continued. Lyssa dropped her spells long before she drove up to the front door of the house. She leaned forward on her handlebars, her hands shaking.
The front door opened. Lyssa hadn’t called ahead, but Tricia didn’t look annoyed. She never did, and Lyssa was always grateful.
“If I had known you were coming, I would have made something.” Tricia smiled. “You could have called. You didn’t blow up another phone, did you?”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve done that,” Lyssa said. “I was a little distracted on the way here, and it slipped my mind. Sorry.”
“It’s okay, honey. I wasn’t in the middle of anything important.” Tricia’s smile dimmed. “But are you okay?”
“Not really. We need to talk.” Lyssa looked at her bike, questioning whether she’d done enough to conceal her trip from others on her way there. She’d come to Cardiff on pure reaction.
To her knowledge, there was no one hunting her. That didn’t mean it was okay to put Tricia and Fred at risk because she couldn’t keep her emotions in check.
“Damn it,” Lyssa muttered. She slapped her cheeks. “Get it together, Corti.”
Tricia gestured inside. “Go relax. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m sure talking it through will help. You know you’re safe when you’re here.”
The older Sorceress spoke in the same warm tone she’d used during so many painful conversations during Lyssa’s teenage years. Often, Lyssa didn’t agree with her foster mother’s take on a situation, but it was rare for Tricia to raise her voice. Without her, Lyssa wasn’t sure she would have grown into a semi-stable adult.
After placing her helmet on her bike, Lyssa stumbled inside the house on autopilot, but the familiar warmth and smells of the home didn’t do much to calm her pounding heart. She all but fell onto the couch and put her face in her hands.
What should she do? What could she do?
Think. That was what she needed to do. She couldn’t let her feelings rule her mind. That wouldn’t help her situation. She needed to sort out what she knew as fact versus what she suspected. Paranoia could help keep her safe, but it could also point her the wrong way if it took control.
“What’s wrong?” Tricia asked. “Fred’s out shopping. I can call him if you need him to buy you something.” She peered at Lyssa. “You don’t look hurt. Internal injuries? Do you need herbs?”
“I’m not hurt, and I don’t need anything.” Lyssa shook her head. “Last Remnant told me to contact them to receive a message. I just got my message in Los Angeles. It hit me hard.”
Tricia’s breath caught, and worry crept over her features. “What did the message say?”
“They claim Chris’ regalia returned to the Vault of Dreams,” Lyssa whispered.
Tricia came and sat beside Lyssa. She took the younger woman’s hand in hers and squeezed gently. “I’m sorry. I truly am. We knew this day was coming. I know you held out hope, but I’ll be here for you. Fred will be, too. We’ll get you through this together.”
“No.” Lyssa shook her head. “He’s not dead. I refuse to believe it.”
“That’s not healthy.”
“It’s not possible.”
Tricia kept her voice quiet. “His regalia returned, Lyssa. You know what that means. There’s no explanation other than he is dead. I don’t know why it took so long, but it’s impossible to unbind a regalia without killing the Illuminated. I’ve never heard of it being done, ever.” Tricia gave Lyssa a worried look. “Have you heard such a thing?”
Lyssa’s stomach continued its revolt. “No. I haven’t, but I don’t believe that’s what happened.”
“What then?” Tricia wore her pity like a mask.
Lyssa pulled her hand away from the woman. “There’s an obvious explanation that doesn’t require unbinding. They lied about it being in the vault. Someone higher up is messing with me. They know I’m interested and getting close, so they sent the message to throw me off.”
“Why would they do that?” Tricia shook her head. “Why go through all that trouble? I understand how badly you want and need your brother to be alive, but you’ve had no evidence he’s alive for fifteen years. And now this. Even in the Society, the simplest and most direct explanation is usually the truth.”
“And you don’t think this is all too perfect?” Lyssa shot off the couch, almost slamming her knee into the coffee table. “The second I get evidence that he’s alive, I suddenly get the confirmation he’s dead. That
timing is ridiculous, even for Sorcerers.”
Tricia looked confused. “What evidence are you talking about? You never mentioned finding evidence he was alive.”
Lyssa stared at Tricia. No one but Jofi knew about the pictures she’d found in Oklahoma. In most cases, that was because she didn’t trust anyone enough to reveal it, but Tricia was one of the few people on the planet Lyssa trusted without reservation. Tricia would die before betraying her.
That wasn’t the concern. The problem was that bringing her in would lead to another complication. Lies and secrecy pointed to conspiracy, which in turn meant danger. Lyssa had already lost her original family. She didn’t want to lose another because of sloppiness.
Lyssa shook her head. “I don’t think it’s safe to tell you.”
“Honey, you have to tell me what’s going on,” Tricia said in a plaintive tone. “I can’t help you otherwise. Tell me what you know. You don’t have to keep this all on your shoulders.”
Lyssa sighed. She’d come this far. Jofi was a good partner in a fight, but she needed her foster mother for emotional support.
“The smuggler Adrien Allard mentioned some things during our fight,” she said. “Things that made me think Chris was alive and he knew where he might be.”
“It must have been a trick,” Tricia replied with a shake of her head. “Allard was trying to hurt you. You have a reputation as a Torch. He was operating near your territory and researched you. I don’t have to have your job to imagine people using such unpleasant tricks.”
“That’s what I thought at first. It didn’t affect anything at the time because he didn’t leave me with any choice but to kill him.” Lyssa frowned. “But before he died, he gave me some other information. That info led me to a memory card with a bunch of pictures of Illuminated in and out of their regalia. Chris was in those pictures, and they were clearly taken after his alleged death. He was alive three years ago.”
Tricia blinked several times. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” Lyssa gave a firm nod.