Walk on Water

by September Thomas

  Toren scanned the desk, then lifted the front page of the main newspaper of Rome. Zara’s defiant stare-down of the helicopter, our helicopter, dominated the display above the fold. Are they back? was blasted in big black letters over its propellers.

  He poked a finger at the picture. “Every single person saw that she attacked us first. They saw her unleash her powers, and the powers of other malicious fey, on the innocent people of Kansas City. We look like the good guys here.”

  I clenched my jaw and tugged the paper from his hold. I flipped it open, revealing more photos, primarily one of Zara standing before an assembled group of Order soldiers, looking very much like a warrior princess than a mere seventeen-year-old girl. And she was clearly outnumbered.

  “And everyone is also talking about this. A team of our soldiers surrounding a downtown hotel in the middle of the morning, demanding a girl come outside. They saw a teenage girl staring down the barrels of fifty weapons, demanding they move away, or else she would be forced to take action.”

  “And we look like heroes,” Toren cried, shoving the paper away. “When our soldiers stepped up to take her into custody—”

  “Soldiers with guns pointed at her head.”

  “—she lashed out. That girl is clearly unhinged. And the Order knew it! We look like we were trying to control a highly volatile situation. Which we were! She’s a danger to society and needs to be brought in. If anything, this increases the pressure on her to turn herself in. This can’t be held against us.”

  “But it can. And it is. I didn’t want…” I slammed my hands on the desk and stood up. I moved to the window and stared out at the endless blue sky. “I didn’t want to make a spectacle of this. I didn’t want her to feel threatened even more. Especially after what happened back in Norway.”

  “And why is that?” Toren fired back, already on his feet. He braced his fists on his hips, right above the daggers that dangled at his sides. He hadn’t shaved in several days and looked older for it. “Why are you so determined to treat her like a saint? To give her the benefit of the doubt? She is a threat to our very existence, and you’re acting like you yourself didn’t spout those very words.”

  His breath came out hard, black eyes flashing with temper.

  Because part of me doesn’t want the vision to be true.

  I pinched my nose and leaned a forearm on the windowpane rather than voice my thoughts on the matter. The brands on my head throbbed, a constant reminder of what I was and what I believed. I stood there, breathing, watching the clouds hover low on this sweltering day, until my blood-pressure calmed.

  “Why did she say it was ‘too late?’” I asked.

  “What?” Toren fell into his chair, legs crossed at the ankles.

  “Outside the hotel. They ordered her to stand down or no one would be hurt. And she said it was quote ‘too late.’ What did that mean?”

  “She’s probably delusional, seeing danger around every corner,” Toren said. “Or maybe she was talking about Norway. Maybe she’s fixated on that. I don’t know. You’re asking me to get into the mind of a girl who either doesn’t know enough about anything or knows far too much about everything. I can’t play those kinds of mind games.” He threw his hands in the air before snatching a pen out of the holder. “I don’t particularly want to.”

  “Her arm was injured.”

  “What?”

  I hadn’t meant to say the words out loud. The footage our team had shot on the ground of her exiting the hotel came to mind. Every inch of her was filled with determination, her eyes alight with fire and fury. Why would she look that way? And why was blood dripping down her arm from a long cut right above her elbow?

  “Nothing. Never mind.”

  He tapped the pen on the desk.

  “What would you have me do next?” he asked. He was staring down at Zara’s face on the newspaper cover again. “You heard the Council. They want her brought in, dead or alive. What do you suggest?”

  “I’ll handle this personally.”

  Shock flashed across his broad cheekbones, the natural furrow over his nose deepening. “You can’t be serious. What happened out there, what happened in Kansas City, that wasn’t my fault. There was nothing I could do to stop that from happening. Everything was thought out.” Words were flying from his mouth, getting louder and louder until he was practically shouting.

  “I consulted with you. I ran through every scenario with my best tacticians. No one thought she would flip out like that. No one. Those fey friends of hers, sure. But not her. You can’t take me off this. Not now. The Council barely has faith in me already. My age, my family—they doubt the title enough as it is. If you remove me… Geoffrey, don’t do that to me. You’ll make me look weak. You’ll make us look weak.”

  I sighed and shook my head. He didn’t understand that we already looked weak.

  I pushed away from the window and moved behind the desk once again. I scooped up my phone and slipped it into the jacket pocket of my suit. Another glance up at the television screens hardened my resolve. I made sure I was completely calm, one-hundred percent committed to my plan, before speaking.

  “There will come a day when, as a leader, you’ll know when it’s time for you to personally step in and handle whatever is happening. Today marks that moment for me. You did admirably, and I’m sorry if I haven’t given you enough benefit of the doubt.” I wetted my lips. “But this burden is mine to bear. I created this mess, now it’s time for me to solve it. I’m sure, in the meantime, there are other problems that likely need your immediate attention.”

  Something ugly flashed across his face, an expression of pure disgust and resentment. He’d never before looked at me that way, like he looked at his parents, and it tugged at something in my chest. But the second appeared, it was gone. In its place was a tight, understanding smile. I wondered if I’d even seen the expression at all.

  “Let me know if you need my assistance,” he said stiffly.

  “Always.”

  As soon as he turned and left, I pulled my phone from my pocket and started making calls.

  24

  Zara

  I wondered about dying.

  How exactly was one supposed to feel in the midst of death’s grasp?

  Was there some seven-step acceptance program involved?

  Were visions normally associated with the afterlife?

  If so, sign me up, because I could really get used to this place.

  “Would you like another drink, miss?”

  I leaned back in the pastel pink patio chair and up into the face of the handsome gentleman who kept my teensy cup filled with shots of hot tea. I’d been here for hours, watching clusters of people in a wide range of genders and ethnicities pass on the street, caught up in the minutia of their own lives, and the sun had yet to move even a smidgen across the gorgeous, eggshell blue skies. A small, white umbrella with scalloped frills shaded me from its glare.

  I cradled the dainty china and smiled up at the server. “Surprise me.”

  “Right away, miss.”

  The drink coated my tongue, a heady blend of sweet and floral that was what my body craved. I groaned into the bottom of the cup. I’d never seen this place before in my life, yet everything about it delighted me.

  If this was dying, I didn’t mind one bit.

  “I see you’ve found my favorite spot.”

  I stilled, senses drastically heightened, afraid to move a single muscle. I knew that voice. I’d never forget that deep accent that sounded so very elegant while speaking nothing but lies.

  Geoffrey took my lack of response as an invitation and tugged a chair that matched mine in every way but color away from the table. Its surface was so small that when he sat, our knees brushed. It took everything in me to not punch him in the face.

  I admired the stoniness of my hands as I set the empty cup back on the surface without so much as a rattle or a tremble. He flicked the button of his smart blue blazer open and twisted the si
lver cuff-links at his wrists. The motion revealed tattoos that wrapped around his wrists in an array of twisted flames, cool waves, and lightning bolts.

  “What are you doing here?”

  His bi-colored eyes revealed nothing as they flickered across my face. “That’s an odd question.”

  “Does the underworld make you face your fears before it accepts you into its dark depths,” I pondered aloud. That actually made a fair bit of sense if I thought about it hard enough.

  Geoffrey’s brows raised, wrinkling his forehead and smooshing the symbols. “Are you dying?”

  “I thought I was.”

  “Why would you be dying?”

  This was starting to feel less like a dream and more like that place from before. That reality disguised inside a dream. When he’d first found me and sicced his dogs on my friends. The simple beauty of this place felt sinister all of a sudden, and I tugged the capped sleeves of my lacy, white dress tight against my skin.

  “Where am I?”

  “Where did you think you were?”

  “Stop answering my questions with questions.”

  The intensity of his gaze never weakened. “Tell me what I want to know.”

  I shot to my feet, icy resolve crumbling. His careful tone, a blend of strength and concern, reminded me so much of my mother in that moment that I craved her; I wanted to sink into her arms, and hold her close. Let her shut out some of the world, if only for a little bit. I scoured the pavement for my purse before remembering this was a dream that wasn’t a dream, and despite how fancy it looked I didn’t have a purse. My chair fell backward as I shoved away from the table, the café, and him.

  “Please don’t go, Zara.”

  I paused, one hand braced on the chair, the other clenched at my side.

  “It’s taken so much to get you here. Please, don’t run off. I’m horrible at this. I truly am.” Geoffrey almost sounded like he cared. “Please sit back down. This is my favorite café in all of Rome. Hear me out. At least for a little longer.” The waiter was back in his spiffy black and white outfit, a rotund cup in one hand and a small plate in the other. “Frederick even brought you something. Please sit and I promise to keep you no longer than one cup.”

  I stared, my mind a twisting knot of questions, then turned and fumbled my chair upright once more. I sat slowly as Frederick placed the items on the table before us. I gazed down at the rich, brown depths of the latte, and the careful swirls of white foam on top of the milky espresso.

  “You have one drink,” I said.

  I wrapped my hands around the wide base of the cup and brought it to my face. Stream uncurled on my skin as I breathed in its heady aroma. Vanilla. So basic, yet so completely perfect. Geoffrey had stopped fiddling with his sleeves, and his green and grey gaze was fixed on the cup as I took a sip from the top of the foam. His nostrils flared when the scent carried on the wind, and he appeared almost… dazed.

  “You know you can order one of these yourself, right? It is your dream.”

  A sheen a sweat gleaned across his brow, and I didn’t think it had anything to do with the midday heat and humidity. Though that damn sun still had yet to budge even the slightest.

  “I need you to stop running from me.”

  I crossed my legs at the knee. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “Not here in the dream. In real life. You need to stop hiding and come to Rome.”

  My lips uncurled in a sardonic smile. “Why would I do that?”

  “The Council of the Order wants to talk to you. I want to talk to you.”

  “What about?”

  “Your motives. Where you’ve been hiding all these years. What you intend to do now that magic has been unleashed on this planet.” He scooped up the buttery scone Frederick had deposited before him and took a bite. Crumbs tumbled down the front of his mossy-colored dress shirt.

  I took a deeper, longer gulp of my latte, the scent no longer an enticement but a challenge. “And you think I actually have answers for you about that?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have much more faith in my abilities than me, I’m afraid.” I brushed off my hands. “Why can’t I just talk to you here? Right now?”

  “After what happened in Kansas City, that’s not an option. You’re growing considerably more dangerous, Zara, reckless even. You’re lucky you didn’t kill anyone with that stunt you pulled.” He sounded exactly like my father. Admonishing me for something that wasn’t even my fault, trying to reduce me to nothing even when I’d done nothing to deserve it.

  My laugh was hollow, ugly.

  “That’s really rich coming from you.”

  His frown deepened.

  “You aren’t leaving me with many options here,” he said. “You either come in or I can’t guarantee your safety before the Council. And trust me when I tell you that you’ll need all the help you can get when you come head to head with their finest.”

  Coffee sloshed over the rim of my cup as I slammed it to the table.

  “And you left me no choice,” I gritted through my teeth. “You and your minions hunted me down, surrounded me, sent that woman to shoot me when I was about to surrender. You’re hypocrites. All of you. I can’t stand how little regard you have for innocent life.” I smacked my hands to my upper chest, my cheeks burning, eyes stinging with outrage. “I even offered you a second chance to let me go, to protect the people that you claim to want to save from my recklessness. But you still came after me. AND THEN YOU NEARLY KILLED ME!”

  My hand slid down the front of my dress and pressed against my stomach, exactly where Ryder and Finn had desperately applied pressure some time ago.

  “You nearly killed me,” I repeated.

  Geoffrey’s deep tan had turned ashen, eyes wide and haunted on his face. The X’s of scars carved into his cheeks stood out sharply against the bone. A single hand shook where it rested on the table before he clutched it tight.

  “What woman?”

  “The woman in the lobby.”

  “She shot you?”

  My hand drifted to my arm where I remember the burn of the bullet. The pain had been lost in the typhoon of emotion and adrenaline that flooded me in the following moments. His eyes tracked the movement, lingering on the bluish threads I tried to push down again. “She tried to.”

  He cleared his throat and re-crossed his legs, a hint of long white socks flashing between the hem of his pants and the tops of his scuffed loafers.

  “We didn’t have a woman inside the hotel.”

  “I call bull.”

  “All of our people remained outside the building. They only needed you to come outside. You would have been allowed to surrender. No harm, no foul. Straight and simple.” His voice was thin, strained. He reached for a napkin, and when he didn’t find one, he snatched one thrown atop a nearby table. The starchy fabric blotted the sweat evident on his forehead, and the symbols of the Gods pulsed black and white.

  That slightly manic expression was back.

  I took three massive gulps of the latte, wishing I’d never made that promise.

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” I said. “But I watched as she made a call to someone. My friend and I heard her tell them to go. And the second after she said that, your people started screaming at me to come outside. When I tried to do that, because I didn’t want anyone getting hurt, she pulled a gun and started firing.” The café faded as my words took me back. “When that manager died you left me no choice, Geoffrey. You—”

  “You’re wrong.”

  What was happening? Something dark and hungry now twisted his features as he lashed out at me, feet swinging to the ground as he pushed himself up. Just like last time, he’d pulled a Jeckyl and Hyde. The rational leader of a global organization swamped by this rabid creature.

  “That lobby was cleared. Our surveillance showed only you and those two fey with you in the lobby at the time. The manager was hit by stray gunfire when she entered at the wrong time.” He stood abruptl
y, chair falling aside in his rush. I scrambled backward, the hem of my dress catching on the edge of the table. Magic pulsed under my skin as fear speared its icy fingers through my veins.

  This wasn’t the same person.

  This couldn’t be the same person.

  “I read the reports. I watched it all happen.” I shivered at the words. Why wasn’t he listening to me? “You charged outside. You attacked my soldiers. You used magic and influenced other fey to do the same. You destroyed my helicopter and killed my people. You’re the reason you almost died.”

  “That’s not true,” I cried, air coming in gulps as my legs knocked against furniture. The comforting waves of people had long since vanished into the depths of his dreamscape. Frederick was a figment of imagination, incapable of coming to my rescue. My hand landed in cake as I stumbled back again, barely evading Geoffrey’s careful stalking.

  “Come with me, Zara, and put this all to rest.”

  “Never,” I yelled and brought up my hands to ward him off as he closed in.

  And then he stopped, twisted features smoothing as his mouth dropped open. We both looked down at the icicle protruding from his chest, right where his heart would be. It dripped brownish liquid onto his otherwise clean shirt. The latte. I’d used it to save my life.

  My hands flew to my mouth in horror. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth as he looked up, the madness still evident in his smirk.

  “You’re going to regret doing that.”

  I blinked.

  In that half second, the café vanished and I reappeared in an entirely different world. This one was shrouded in darkness. Stars glimmered overhead, their soft light reflecting from the smooth pool of water before me.

  At least Geoffrey, and the bloody hole in his chest, was gone.