by Holly Lisle
His head pressed against her cheek, he nodded. "I know. I was with you all the time, Lauren. I was with you in the house and between the worlds. I was with the two of you every minute, up until I went through with Jake when he was dying, and I had to decide—save him, or stay with you." He pulled away from her. "I didn't even have to think about it."
"No," Lauren said. "I would have done the same thing." She touched his face. "God, I love you. I haven't been able to breathe since you died."
He held her tight again. "I know," he said. "I was there. I was supposed to leave, but I didn't. I couldn't. I couldn't leave you alone until I knew you would be all right."
"Sometimes I thought I could feel you with me. It was so hard. Then I found you when I found the gate—you touched me and I felt…less alone. And then I lost you again." She ran her fingers through his close-cropped hair and breathed in his smell. He had the same radiance to him that she'd seen in Molly, but he didn't feel as far away from her, or so far above her. He was her Brian, and they were supposed to be together. The universe had been designed that way.
Brian was looking at her steadily. "Once I saved Jake, I knew that I'd served my purpose—and that, finally, it was time for me to move on."
"It's all right. I can fix it now. I came to take you back with me. Jake…" She shook her head, halfway between laughing and crying. She and Brian and Jake were together again, and everything was going to be all right. Now she could almost laugh about the nightmare Jake had put her through. Almost. "Jake came to save you. To bring you home. I'm here to take both of you back."
"Lauren…"
Lauren shook her head. "Don't say anything. I know you probably finished everything you needed to do there, and your place is here now; I heard all of that from Molly. But Jake needs his daddy back, and I can make it real. We can be us again, Brian."
She felt moisture on her neck, and for an instant wondered if a warm rain was starting. And then she realized Brian was crying.
Her first thought was, There are no tears in heaven. And her second was, No. Don't tell me. I don't want to know.
CHAPTER 13
Copper House
SOMETHING HAD BEEN watching her, but Molly couldn't feel it anymore. When the rrôn outside the window flew away, Molly felt a growing silence in her mind as the little hums of life all around her blanked out. She hadn't even realized that she'd been aware of those soft hums, so like breathing, until they started to vanish. First she'd been alarmed, but when she could see people around her moving even as they grew silent in her mind, she got a sudden image of something hunting her.
She left Lauren's suite with its crowd of goroths, got away to a quiet place and dropped into a meditative trance, something she had learned to do in the Air Force. Finding stillness had helped her survive barracks life—the resonating pain of injuries, the hangovers, and the illnesses suffered by her barracks mates, which she dared not heal but could not ignore.
She waited for a very long time while inside her the pressure built and she became certain that if she could just hold out, she would catch his metaphorical blink and be able to tell who and what hunted her.
Only Birra and some of the guards had become concerned at her continued silence and lack of response to their calls. And when they found her—lying so still she seemed to be dead—they had forced themselves into the front of her attention. The instant the trance broke, Molly felt her enemy's elation, followed by a total blankness that let her know he had no wish for her to find him or identify him.
She'd gotten something, though. He was rrôn, but he was to the rrôn who had circled above Copper House what a Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost was to a Ford Pinto. He was old beyond imagining, and powerful, and in spite of age and power, or perhaps because of them, he was also cautious.
That she got, and then he shut down what little vision she'd had of him.
Inside the main part of Copper House she couldn't even do enough magic to shield her thoughts from him. She could, however, return to stillness and keep watch. He would be coming for her. He would find a way. And when he entered the grand house, his magic, too, would be stripped away, and he and she would be on more-or-less equal footing. So. How to give herself the advantage?
She considered weapons. Swords, knives, bows and crossbows, guns, rifles, military armament, stuff she might conjure with magic. She had some training in hand-to-hand combat, and wished she'd had more. She wouldn't trust herself with a sword, couldn't count on the distance necessary to use a bow or crossbow effectively, and didn't have standard American weaponry, either civilian or military, nor any means to acquire them in time. Time was the issue. He was going to be on his way.
She did not know how he could come into Copper House—huge nightmare monster that he was. She only knew that he believed he could get to her. If he believed it, he had information she didn't have; his was the most clear, intelligent mind she'd ever brushed up against.
She felt her fear, but remembered Air Force training—that fear was part of the game; that those who learned to work through the fear rather than deny it were the ones who lived, the ones who succeeded. Just for an instant, she did wish she'd been a Marine—they got a lot more practical experience in real warfare. But Molly had the killer instinct, and she wasn't squeamish. She figured she would find a way to make everything she had count. The thing coming after her was big and bad, but she intended to win anyway.
She did not want to be anywhere near Seolar. It wasn't just his betrayal, his placing of duty before her life. It was also the fact that she was bringing trouble down on the inhabitants of the house, and her best and most honorable move would be to keep out of the way of everyone she cared about. She was the only one who would be able to come back—she didn't want Seolar's blood on her conscience, even if she couldn't bear the sight of him for putting her into this position.
If she could get to Lauren's suite, she could pretend to be studying the notebook. She could leave the guards outside, run through the back passages down to the safe room, and make herself something powerful to use against the horror that stalked her.
In the hall, Birra and guards waited for her. She approached Birra, fighting to appear calm, to look like everything was fine. "I'll be spending the rest of my evening in Lauren's room, studying her manuscript," she said. "I think I might be able to find some way to summon her back."
"That is excellent news, Vodi," he said. "However, I believe, that the Imallin is hoping to speak with you."
Molly gave him a level stare and said, "I won't be speaking with Seolar tonight. I may not be speaking with Seolar for quite some time."
Birra looked shaken; he nodded and said, "As you wish. I will relay your message to him."
"As soon as you have seen me to Lauren's quarters, if you please. I don't wish to have any missed communications. Inform him, also, that he will not come to me. I speak as the Vodi on this issue. I will tolerate no disagreement."
"Yes, Vodi," Birra said.
They hurried through the corridors to Lauren's room. Rue met her at the door with a nervous, "Has she returned?"
"Not yet," Molly said. She turned to Birra. "Please take him my message now." Birra nodded, and Molly closed the door with all the veyâr on the outside of it. She turned her attention to Rue.
"I will be working in here tonight. I must ask that all of you leave—I am going to require the suite entirely to myself."
"We will make no noise," Rue told her.
Molly gave him a hard look. "Your thoughts will."
He said nothing else—simply bowed and gathered up the other goroths. Molly pointed him to the hidden door that led to the servants' passage. "That way, if you please."
Molly waited until all the goroths were gone. Then she headed into the passageway herself. She could see well enough—it had both air and light from grilles in the floor and ceiling and her eyes, no longer human, handled near-darkness better than they would have when she had been just Molly McColl back home. She did not, howeve
r, want the rrôn to catch her in these passageways—they were too narrow, too enclosed, with too many blind alleys and cubbyholes, too many doors leading in from too many rooms that she could not watch. She needed to get to the safe room quickly. Once there, she could set up a magical trap that would kill the rrôn as soon as he passed through the doorway. She knew exactly how to do it. She broke into a lope, feeling pressure along her spine and in her gut—an anxiety she could not ignore or allay.
Faster. He was coming. She started running—through the darkness, down the passageway.
Then, without warning, eyes opened inside her mind, eyes that watched her. He was not still now, the hunter, and he had managed to get into Copper House without raising either an alarm or suspicions. Nothing real stood between the two of them, no barrier but space and a bit of time. He was hiding his thoughts, but he could not hide his eyes. I need a weapon. But all she had was Seolar's dagger.
She raced down the ramp, feeling the hunter behind her. She tucked up her skirts as she ran, wishing she was wearing shorts and running shoes, not daring to slow down to tighten the stupid slippers that matched her dress more firmly to her feet.
One flew off, and unbalanced, she kicked off the other one. The rough stone floor felt like hell to her bare feet, but her traction improved and she moved faster. She rounded the last corner down the ramp and came out into a wine cellar.
She'd taken a wrong turn.
She had no idea how to get back to where she'd come from, and no chance of fighting off the rrôn without the edge being the only one with access to magic would have given her. Without the safe room…
She looked around. Along the back wall, one massive metal-banded wood door that opened inward—it stood ajar. She raced inside, closed the door. Levered a metal bar into the brackets one side at a time, putting all her weight into lifting the thing—she guessed it weighed more than she did. If she hadn't been able to move one end at a time, she would never had managed to block the door.
But she did, finally. Then she stood there, breathing hard, and stared at the dagger. She had to find out where he was, and what he was doing.
She leaned against the nearest wall and slid down into a crouch; in spite of her fear, she stilled her mind to the point of thoughtlessness.
The eyes in her mind grew brighter and clearer, and suddenly she was looking out of them. He was following not her thoughts and not her scent, but a marker he'd placed in her mind the instant she'd betrayed her presence. Looking at herself through his eyes, she could see the marker, and she could see how it was constructed…and she could see, as well, how it might be eliminated. Just…like…so…
It blinked out of existence, and the rrôn faltered and stopped.
Molly held still. Her enemy had taken man-form—she didn't know the rrôn could do that, but should have guessed it. She could change her form, as could other upworlders. Magic offered that option. The rrôn gave the initial impres sion of being a veyâr, but it was not a particularly good impression. He'd used magic to cloud the thoughts of the men at the gates, convincing them that they knew him and had reason to trust him. By that ruse he'd come through the gates.
Inside a vast cage of copper, though, he could not use such tricks. His form would hold, but those who saw him would recognize him for what he was. She got this as a sharp, tiny impression at the back of his mind, a thought he had not bothered to tuck away because he considered it unimportant. He carried no weapons, but he had no doubts that he could destroy anything that crossed his path. And he intended to. When he was done with her, he planned to kill everyone he met on his way out, just because.
Still…still. Molly did not let emotion or reaction betray her presence in the monster's mind. When she erased his marker, he'd quieted his thoughts, but he did not have the luxury of sitting still and waiting for her to betray her presence. She had gone to ground; he had to keep on the move to find her.
He admired her. She excited him. He was strangely pleased that she'd found the marker, oddly delighted that she had managed to disappear when he thought he had her. He yearned for challenge, and considered her an equal or a near equal. He despised the rrôn who had circled Copper House.
All of this she gleaned from stray thoughts simply by being still. He started moving again, following the direction he'd been taking when Molly disappeared from his view. It would eventually bring him to Molly, though not at the pace he'd managed previously.
Still Molly waited, heart and blood and thought quieted to nothing. He came for her, he hunted her…but why?
She was the Vodi. She was as much an immortal as he. Either of them could be killed, but they would simply return. So what did he want? She waited, silent behind his eyes, cold and patient within his mind.
He was careful; he moved steadily, stopping to sniff the air, and she realized that he had caught a scent and had determined that it belonged to her. The traces of humanity mixed with veyâr blood, the heat trail she had left as they fled—he had marked these and by process of elimination had come to a clear knowledge of how she smelled. With a scent trail, he began to move faster again. He stopped once, and through his eyes she saw her shoes. He left them. They only confirmed what he already knew.
He would be on her in just minutes. His excitement began to rise, and suddenly, for just an instant, Molly got a clear flash of his intentions. He did not plan on killing her first. He planned on keeping her alive long enough to get the necklace off of her. Then he intended to kill her—in that manner, he would destroy her forever. She would not come back. He and his kind would win, and she and her kind would lose.
Baanraak moved around another corner, and through his eyes Molly could see the floor level out, and before him rows of wine casks, and behind the casks, a door.
Her door.
The Afterlife
With Brian's tears still hot on her neck, Lauren pulled free of his embrace and grabbed his shoulders. "You're coming back home with me, Bri. I've come too far and through too much to accept excuses."
He gave her the saddest smile she had ever seen and pressed a finger to her lips. "I don't belong there anymore, my love. I finished my tasks. And now other doors are opening for you—other steps you need to take along your chosen path. I have no place along that path in this lifetime—not anymore."
Lauren walked over to Jake and picked him up. Jake protested a little, but seemed to sense her mood. He calmed quickly and wrapped his arms around her neck, and said, "See? I'm Superman. I gotted Daddy."
Lauren looked from Jake to Brian and took a deep breath to steady herself. "You will always have a place in our lives," she said.
"Yes. As a memory. Oh, Lauren—there's so much involved in this, but I can't go back with you."
"No," Lauren said. "I can't accept that. He found you, Bri. He came through Hell to save you. He needs you, and so do I." She turned away, feeling tears burning their way down the back of her throat. She blinked hard, took a shaky breath, and turned back to him. "You weren't supposed to die in that accident, you weren't supposed to leave me when you did, and you know it. You promised."
He watched her and said nothing.
She stared into his eyes, willing him to say that he would find a way, or make a way, and that he and she would be together again. "Come on, Brian," she whispered. "Let's get the hell out of here."
"I made a deal," he said at last. And then he was quiet.
Lauren didn't want to hear it, but she asked, "What kind of deal?"
"When Jake was dying, I had the chance to keep him alive as he moved between the worlds. But I wasn't supposed to have stayed close to you when I died; I was supposed to come straight here. I didn't, but in order to do what I had to do to save Jake, I had to make peace with this place, because I had to give Jake part of myself—part of my soul. It was no guarantee that he would live once he went through, because if Molly hadn't sacrificed herself for him, I would have lost that piece of myself and he would have died anyway." Brian sighed. "But I did what I had
to do, and Molly did what she had to do, and Jake lived."
Lauren nodded.
"But when I gave up a piece of myself to Jake, I showed up on the…well, the radar here, for lack of a better word. Because we aren't supposed to do that, either, the difference being that if you hide once you die, no one comes looking for you. If you as an AWOL soul start doing flashy things you weren't supposed to do, suddenly everything here gets a hook in you and starts reeling you in."
"Bastards."
Brian shrugged. "There are reasons. Souls are supposed to recuperate between lives, learn from what they've done, spend time choosing their next challenges or figuring out how they might better approach the challenges they have to reattempt…" He gave her that crooked little smile she had always loved. "I was sitting on the side of your bed while you slept, stroking your hair, or going into Jake's room and watching him play when he first woke up. I was hanging out in the kitchen while you made food for you and Jake, wishing you and I could cook dinner together again. I wasn't resting, or recuperating, or getting on with my growth as a soul. I wasn't moving forward. I was…stuck."