by Cari Z
Chapter Thirty
The first thing I felt as I began to wake up―and some little part of me was incredibly pleased to be feeling anything, I remembered enough to be sure of that―was a hard slap across the cheek. Not quite hard enough to make my head turn on the pillow, but it definitely wasn’t a friendly caress. I groaned and slowly blinked my eyes open.
“Ah good, you’re awake. You fucking fool.”
That wasn’t Sören’s voice. That was―“Jakob?” I asked hoarsely.
“Correct.”
“Where’s Sören?”
He laughed, but it was an ugly, angry sound. “He’s out communing with nature. Both of them were rather upset after the frankly ridiculous stunt you just pulled. I thought you had a plan.”
“I did!” I weakly tapped my chest with my own hand and then ran my fingers up to my neck where I remembered stabbing myself. The skin was smooth, completely healed. “I’m here, you’re here, yay, we’re alive. Hooray for plans.”
“No thanks to you trying to make yourself into the sacrifice. What the hell do you think would have happened if Sören hadn’t transferred his intent to you?”
Transferred his intent? I’d have to figure out what that meant in a second, but first things first. “I assume I’d have died.”
“Everyone here might have died if the battle between Ólafur and the landvættir had continued. You got extremely lucky,” Jakob snapped. “Ólafur destroyed one of the vættir’s trees when the madness took him. That went directly against the contract between them and gave the vættir room to maneuver.”
He sighed. “When you killed yourself, Sören―and I’m referring to my brother here―was apparently so distressed that he took his opportunity as your second to change his allegiance. He altered the nature of his sacrifice so that instead of giving himself for the sake of our family, he made his intent solely about you. Because my father had already broken the rules, the vættir allowed it.”
My blood went cold for a second. This was not what I’d been expecting. Sure, Sören had told me a few times that I wasn’t expendable, that I needed to be careful in picking my sacrifice, but I’d taken it as a caution, not a rule. I’d thought the vættir would accept me as a sacrifice and come share my body. I hadn’t been looking forward to it, exactly, but it had been worth it to free Sören. Instead…
“So now I’m responsible for keeping Sören and the vættir tied together.”
“Exactly.” Jakob smiled thinly. “Congratulations, my brother’s voluntary enslavement is now partially your responsibility. Thankfully, after the vættir managed to subdue Ólafur, I had the authority necessary to negotiate on the spot for its continued assistance with our geas. Now there are two sacrifices.”
“Wait―you sacrificed your own father to the landvættir?”
“What did you think my plan was all along?” Jakob said. “Did you think I was hoping that the frankly disturbing codependency between you and Sören would somehow manifest in a boon for the rest of us? Magic doesn’t work like that. There is always a price to pay, and Ólafur was meant to be my coin. I don’t leave things like the survival of my family to chance, unlike some of us.”
“It wasn’t chance.”
Jakob scoffed. “Oh, please, spare me your―”
“It wasn’t chance.” I knew that as strongly as I knew anything. “It’s Fate. However this worked out, that’s how it was meant to work out. I can’t see my own future, but I wouldn’t be here right now if I wasn’t meant to be.”
“Forgive me if I find your argument for fatalism less than compelling.”
“Look, you think I liked killing myself?” I asked, my energy finally risen enough to give me a bit of a boost. “You think that was fun for me? I came into this figuring I was going to die, and that if things worked out, Sören and the vættir would save me. I didn’t offer up another sacrifice because I’m not an asshole, and it wouldn’t have worked anyway. Honestly, whether or not I was the sacrifice, do you think your own cards would have played out the way they did if Sören and the vættir didn’t think I was worth their time?” Now it was my turn to scoff.
“Maybe you did have your own fallback plans in place, ways of getting Ólafur out of the way, but that man craved complete control. I’m betting he’d have hung onto his power any way he possibly could have. At least one of your brothers would have probably sided with him, so you were looking at a possibly failed coup.
“Am I an asshole? Absolutely.” I completely agreed with that assessment. “Could I have figured this out better? Almost certainly. But did I do everything I could to make it work, with a considerable amount of trouble from you and your goddamn family? I sure as hell did, so you can take your attitude and fucking shove it, because from where I’m sitting, things aren’t perfect, but they’re not completely shit either.” We stared at each other in complete silence for a long moment.
“Well,” Jakob said at last. “I suppose it could be worse. Although Sören is furious at you. You’re going to have a considerable amount of groveling to do. And your friend Andre is still hanging around, so I suggest you deal with him first.”
“What? I told him to run.”
“How generous of you,” Jakob drawled. “What he did instead, thanks to your little trick with the charm unlocking his handcuffs, was incapacitate one of our men, take his gun, and proceed to shoot my brother Artύr in the leg. Which―” Jakob shrugged. “―I can’t really blame him for. Artύr was tasked with his keeping and was rather impolite about it. Sören has declined to heal him, so he’s out of the picture for the moment. Rolf is looking after him.”
“Oh. Nice. And―you said your dad was accepted as a sacrifice. Is he possessed now too?” Because that would be awkward.
Jakob chuckled. “No, Cillian. He’s dead. His corpse is lying at the bottom of the vættir’s lake, and long may it rest there.” Jakob got to his feet and then hauled me up as well. “I’ll send in Andre.”
He left through the gaping, splintered entrance where a door had been, and a minute later, Andre entered. He still had the pistol he’d stolen in one hand, but his face had been cleaned up some. He looked at me, shut his eyes, and sighed before he came the rest of the way in and punched me on the shoulder.
“Ow!”
“You deserve worse, you big baby.” He stared at my neck disbelievingly. “I don’t know how your guy managed to get you back, Cillian, there was―I’ve seen people die in the field, and you were way bloodier than most of them.”
“Magic.”
“Fuck your magic.”
“Hey, my magic got you released!” I pointed out.
“With this thing?” He held up the little Buddha figurine. “I was close to getting out of those cuffs myself.”
“Yep, that’s the story your black eye is telling for sure.”
“Forget my eye, man. Tell me what the hell happened to my car.”
“Um.” It was hard to know what to say to that, actually. “It died a noble death?”
“Goddamnit!”
“I’m sorry.” I really was, too. I was sorry for dragging Andre into all this in the first place. “Look, I’ll replace it, I promise.” I’d been making a lot of promises lately, but I planned to follow through on all of them.
Andre sighed. “It’s already a done deal, man. The guy in charge―Jakob―he gave me more than enough money to replace the car, called it ‘reparations.’ He’s paying to fix up my house, too.”
“Oh.” That was a little surprising. “Good.”
“And Sören already told me the score on my wife and little girl, so thanks for taking care of them.”
“Jesus, don’t thank me,” I said, appalled. “Look what I dragged you into.”
Andre ducked his head for a moment. “Yeah. Foreign cartels, crazy magic, and gunfights. It’s the best story of my life and I can’t even report on it.” When he looked up, he was smiling, just a little. “But the hell with it. I was kind of bored anyway.”
“Glad I cou
ld help you with that.”
“Yeah, but…if it’s all the same? Don’t call me again, Cillian.” There was some gentle humor in Andre’s voice, but beneath it was a layer of steel. He pressed the spent Buddha charm into my unresisting hand. “Because I won’t answer.”
Aaand bridge officially burned. “Got it,” I said, and if my voice was a little subdued, well, this was the price of doing business. I was a bad deal in a lot of ways. “Take care of yourself, then.”
“You too, man.” We shook hands, and he left. Finally I roused myself to go and look for Sören.
He was alone at the far end of his land, where the grove was situated. He sat in front of the broken tree, his hands on its ruined stump, purple eyes trained on the water before him. To his right, the base of the larger tree still glistened with my blood.
I looked away from the gore and sat down next to him. “Hey.”
“Sören is very distressed.” There was more than a hint of blame in the landvættir’s voice. “You caused him much pain.”
“I’m very sorry for that.”
“As you should be. He is not sure he can trust you anymore. He doesn’t want to speak to you.”
The pang those words sent through my heart was so sharp I was surprised my chest didn’t simply start bleeding. “Okay.” I’d have to be patient. I could do that.
“Personally, I applaud you. That was a bold plan, Cillian.” His cloudy eyes turned my way. “You knew Sören would choose you if at all possible. You used his love for you to manipulate both of us into doing your will.”
“Things fell out all right for me in the end.”
“But you don’t believe in chance.”
“Maybe not,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m some sort of strategic mastermind either, or completely careless with my own life. I didn’t want to hurt Sören, and I’ll spend forever making it up to him, but…” I shrugged. “We’re still all here.”
“Indeed we are.” Sören looked back at the lake. “And so is he.”
“Ólafur.”
“His blood shall nourish my roots, and my grove will grow strong again.”
“Oookay.”
“But I need to be settled in my new home.” The undertone there was fast, faster, RIGHT NOW. I got up again.
“I’ll go make some calls.” This promise, at least, I could start to fulfill immediately.
Chapter Thirty-One
Two months later
Sören’s plot of land ended up being about two hours outside of Lubbock, West Texas, in the shadow of a red sandstone stump that looked like a mountain had started growing and then abruptly abandoned its course. There was a spring, just a little one, but enough to replenish Sören’s lake, which―holy shit, the logistics involved in transporting that much liquid across state lines, not to mention the structure to contain it and the little grove and the boulders―trains got involved, okay? Big-ass trains and probably a fair amount of bribery.
But now he was here, and he seemed content. There were a few local scrub bushes that Sören said he’d have no problems incorporating, decent soil to keep his grove alive and, most importantly, no land spirits. I’d gotten Bobby’s word on that when he came to help settle Sören in the ground.
“It’s a good spot for him,” Bobby assured me for the tenth time, once things were done and Sören was too busy basking in his new landscape to pay either of us much attention. “The land could use some decent energy―it’s completely empty. I’m surprised the mountain is still standing.” He glared out into the distance like he could see the oil pumps working and shame them into stopping. “No need to worry for him.”
“Good.” That was probably the only thing I didn’t have to worry about, although it wasn’t all bad. Marisol had reappeared, mad as hell about what had happened to her shop. The last time we’d talked, I’d given her Jakob’s personal number. I then received a long and expletive-filled message from him, but he was paying for repairs, so that was something. Jakob was doing his absolute best to stay on Sören’s good side, and mine, since he had no direct leverage over the vættir anymore. Ólafur’s sacrifice had bought Sören’s forgiveness, but tribute was what would stem the tide of madness. Jakob hadn’t been bothered by any berserker fits yet as far as I knew, at least. Phin was around to help Marisol out. Andre wouldn’t respond to my emails, which―fair enough.
I’d done my best to repay Roger and Annie for all of their help, but I knew it would take years. At least they were willing to work in installments.
Or, as Annie put it, “Honey, we don’t need a pound of flesh. Honest sweat is better than blood any day of the week.” They’d given me easy jobs so far, just surveying to help locate the best spots for new wells while saving them the expense of exploratory drilling. I was convinced that the honeymoon period wouldn’t last, but I’d take advantage while it did. I’d talked them into putting a dinky mobile home out here and even installing a windmill power system to generate electricity for it.
Of course I was living out here. Where else would I go, now that I was tied to Sören through our bargain? The only person who could have torn me away from him was my mother, and I still had no idea where she was. Two months, and we hadn’t been in contact. She hadn’t contacted anyone, actually, not even Marisol, who’d gone up to look for her.
“The cards are…well, they just aren’t telling me much,” she said apologetically. “I wish I had more for you, honey. I don’t see her in immediate danger, if that helps. Just―laying low.”
Fine. She was laying low somewhere and couldn’t be bothered to get in touch with her only son? It wouldn’t be the first time. I’d learned long ago to try not to let myself be hurt by anything my mother did. She was as much a slave of her gift as I was. Telling myself that didn’t always make it better, but in this case, I had something more concrete to help me get over the hurt: my mother’s puppy.
Her neighbors had shipped the little thing across two continents to get to me, thanks to Marisol’s meddling. I’d never had a dog before. I knew my mother liked them, but pets―honestly, they seemed like more trouble than they were worth. Still, when the puppy was brought out to me in a travel kennel by one of Roger’s more unflappable employees, I couldn’t just turn it away. It was still pretty small and ridiculously fluffy. I’d have to trim a lot of that hair if this dog was going to be comfortable in the heat of Texas, but for now, I had an air-conditioner that worked, water to cool her off with, and an ache in my heart that welcomed something that wouldn’t judge me for my innumerable mistakes. Her tag read “Lady,” so she was my lady, and my only company once Bobby left.
Yeah, Sören still wasn’t talking to me. Or rather, one of them wasn’t. The landvættir loved to talk, but as the project got closer and closer to completion, his focus had shifted, and now that everything was finally in place―well, blissful was what I’d call him. And preoccupied. Which meant I’d spent the last week pretty much alone in the little trailer, except for Lady’s energetic company. I was used to being alone―that was something I could usually handle pretty well―but I wasn’t used to being lonely. And even with my mother’s puppy wriggling into my side and chewing gently on my fingertips, I was lonely now.
Rap-rap. The trailer had a thin door, and knocking on it rattled it in its frame. I was a little surprised. Sören never bothered with knocking. Usually, he just came right in when he wanted something.
“Yeah?”
The door opened slowly, and Sören stepped inside. He glanced around my little home like he’d never seen it before, which―hell, it wasn’t like I’d redecorated. I didn’t have much beyond a few suitcases worth of clothes, secondhand pots and pans for the tiny kitchen, and a tablet for mindless entertainment.
“What?”
“Cillian…” he began sheepishly, and then I knew.
Oh. Oh my god. I sat up in the tiny bed so fast Lady tumbled off my stomach with a disgruntled yip. “Sören?”
He shut the door behind himself and nodded. “Yeah.”
“Fuck.” It had been so long since we’d spoken I’d almost forgotten the timbre of his voice. I’d missed him, god, I’d―“Um.” I was a terrible host. “Sit down?” Except there were no chairs. What kind of savage was I? “Here?” I gestured toward the bed, and he nodded, took off his shoes―how polite―and sat down on the end of the bed. Lady immediately pranced over to him, and he smiled as he stroked over her soft crown and scratched behind her ears.
“She’s sweet.”
“Thanks. She’s my mother’s.”
“I know, I’ve been―I mean, it’s kept me informed, you know?”
“Oh.” Ooohkay. “Good.” This was off to a fantastic start. What had Marisol told me, the last time I’d bitched to her about this? I had to be willing to extend the olive branch. Despite the fact that I didn’t really regret the way things had worked out―scratch that, I was fucking ecstatic at how things had worked out―it had still upset Sören, and that had never, ever been my goal. “Look, I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“For manipulating you.” That much was true. “I hated hurting you. I swear that wasn’t what I wanted. But my hands were tied.”
He nodded. “I know.” He kept his gaze on Lady. “You’re clever, but you can’t work miracles. I should have seen it coming, but I still thought you might be able to pull off a miracle. It’s my own fault that I was disappointed.”
I still felt like a failure for not doing better, and it was worse hearing it from him. I shook my head and ignored the stubborn pain in my chest. “Still. That sucked.”
“It was probably worse for you than for me, objectively.” Sören shut his eyes. “You killed yourself. You were dying, and the vættir and my father were fighting, and all I wanted to do was run over to you and try to stop the blood, because it…it was wrong, you know? It just looked wrong. But I couldn’t move the vættir, so I did the only thing I could.”
“Changed your intent.”
“It wasn’t that much of a change, really,” he said. “I went into it in the beginning knowing that my sacrifice was really for you. It was the price I paid for your life, and it helped my family, so there was almost no downside.”