Falling.
“Not for your eyes,” she muttered.
“Meda!” Hands gripped and shook her.
Groaning, she floated from the bottom of an abyss, and surfaced. Blinking, she regained her bearings. They sat on the floor of the office. Dev smoothed the hair away from her face. His Vitality stone glowed. She basked in the healing energy she knew he channeled to her. “What happened?” she mumbled.
“You passed out,” he said slowly, concern and the fury that so often accompanied his emotions eclipsing his eyes. “But you’re alive.”
The harsh energy had kicked her ass, but he was right. I’m alive. And she had Dev to thank for it. Right now, she needed to know. “Libby’s stone,” she managed.
“You dropped it.”
She tried scrambling from his arms, and sagged to the floor.
Dev caught her. “Meda, hold on.” He hoisted her to her feet. Still dazed, she blinked hard, resting her gaze on the stone, sitting on the desk.
Green.
Disappointment slugged her in the gut. “It didn’t work,” she rasped hoarsely.
“No. We’re going to figure out something.” He held her close, pressing his forehead to hers. And for all his strength, he trembled. “Are you feeling better? Steadier?”
“Dev.” She felt like she’d been on her feet for twelve hours at MJ’s. “I’m. All. Right,” she told him softly.
He studied her carefully. “Even by channeling my Vitality energy to you, it might be some time until you feel a hundred percent.”
“You got that one right.” Wearily, she rubbed her temples. “I wondered if this might happen. The impressions, though they pack a punch for me, aren’t strong enough. I still count this as a win. We know one way it won’t work.” Despite the ache throbbing in her skull, she forced a grin.
“Process of elimination.”
“Right.” She rolled her shoulders, resolute once more. “We needed you, a direct source of energy, to create the Flint. It makes sense we’d need one for the Similitude too.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “A Betrayer.”
“It’s the only direct source I know. And I also know it might be impossible.”
“There has to be a way. We’ll figure it out. Somehow. First things first.” His voice hardened. “We need to test the Flint.”
“Yes. We do.” She laid a hand on his arm. “We’re going to work as a team,” she said, watching his face carefully. “Remember?”
His eyes flickered. “I remember.”
“Dev. I saw what Haenus did to you. I understand how you want revenge. If I could, I’d take it for you.” She gestured to the Flint. “That’s what’s going to kick their ass. All of that anger and fear and misery stored in that stone. But we work together.”
“We work together.” He palmed the back of her neck possessively, sending shivers through her. “We worked pretty well together a few hours ago.”
Leaning into him, she reveled in his solid warmth. “We did.” But she couldn’t stop the worry from leaking in. Secrets. He was brimming with them, as she’d suspected when she’d first met him.
Now wasn’t the time to tear open old wounds. She laid her head on his shoulder.
He tipped her chin. “Meda, what is it?”
“You do have scars all over you,” she said softly. “You just can’t see them.”
He said nothing, only stared. “You heard me. At the motel.”
He was already so much a part of her. “I heard you.”
Resting his palms on her hips, he kissed her tenderly. “Meda, what you’re willing to do for us, what you’ve already done. There’s no way I, or our clan can ever repay you.”
“Yes there is.” She took a deep breath. “Promise me you’ll work with the clan to test the Flint.” She had no right to ask, or expect any kind of promise. Not under the circumstances. But she’d ask, and expect anyway.
Dev’s eyes lit on hers, dusty brown flecking their centers. With fear? Remorse? “I promise,” he whispered.
If anything happened to you, I don’t think I could handle it. She wouldn’t give voice to that sentiment. It wouldn’t do either of them any good. She wanted desperately to believe he would keep his promise. He was a risk taker. And unpredictable. The very qualities her father had possessed in spades, she realized. Those same qualities could bury them. Dev’s intentions might be good, but she knew instinctively he was often his own worst enemy.
Enemy. The motel.
“Dev,” she said excitedly. “Haenus’ stone.” She gripped his arms. “They don’t know we have it. I’m sure of it. We didn’t talk about it. I never saw it, or touched it, until the next morning. I’m positive. At this point, I don’t know if it matters, but I remembered it, just now. From working with it.”
Dev whistled. “I don’t know either. I’m guessing it’s bought us time. If they knew we had it, I’m not sure if anything could’ve kept them away.” He paused thoughtfully. “Meda, you’re a genius. I’m not sure yet, but that little piece of information might be our ace in the hole.”
“We’ll take it any way we can get it.”
“Yep.” Phone in hand, he moved to the doorway. “Get ready to leave for the network. Bring only the essentials. That includes the stones. All of them. We’ll come back later for everything else. I’m going to let Nick know we’re on our way.”
CHAPTER 25
Magpie huddled next to the concrete, the ages-old damp and dark permeating her body. Fatigue and the odor of mildew rolled over her in waves. Keeping the Similitude stone close, she reminded herself why she was here. Had been here for the last six hours.
For Abel.
Wasn’t he why she did everything?
She’d loved him since they were children. He’d be freezing down here. Like he froze in the fallout shelters.
Constantly, he was cold, even in the heat of summer. Growing up, the other kids had teased him mercilessly about wearing sweaters and jackets in July. She’d comforted him. When he’d gone hungry as punishment, one of many his father had doled out, she’d shared her energy with him.
All her life, everything she did was to show him she cared. He didn’t kiss her tenderly, the way she’d seen Dev do with Meda. Though she was alone, her cheeks flamed. She’d seen them do more than kiss. And it’d been nothing like the way Abel took what he wanted, whenever he wanted.
And I let him.
Swatting away tears, she readjusted her position, hooked the tip of her pinky in the hoop of silver in her bottom lip, another nervous habit of hers she knew Abel hated.
As a leader, he had needs. She didn’t go hungry, did she? She had clothes on her back and a position of sorts in the brood, because of what she did with computers. To her, that was all logic. Nothing special. It was how she contributed. Everyone had to contribute. That’s what Abel said. And she liked to think that position included working alongside him. Not as his mate, but as his lover. She should be glad he wanted someone like her.
She wasn’t clever or pretty. All her life she’d been told as much. Over the years she’d learned to turn that to her advantage. No one noticed the plain girl. However, she noticed everything and everyone. As much as she chattered like a ‘magpie,’ that’s how quiet she could be. She’d learned, and practiced being unseen, unheard, wherever she went.
Perhaps that’s how she’d first heard of the skeletons in Abel’s closet. It hadn’t changed the way she felt about him. But she’d learned early on that being wary often equated with being wise. So she’d kept what she knew to herself.
Same as she did about what lay beyond the heavy plastic in his office.
She rubbed a hand over the flatness of her stomach. Never would she feel fluttery kicks, or her belly swell. Not with Abel.
But she und
erstood.
She always understood.
Except after she’d listened when she shouldn’t have.
Abel sounded like he didn’t care at all. Not about her Jordan, who’d been sent to scavenge on the streets for energy. Fear had Magpie’s stomach lurching and she had to turn her mind off to the ‘what ifs.’
The girl had her own brand of special.
That was a secret. Between them.
Jordan was the daughter she’d never have. Magpie had looked after the newly orphaned girl, had cared for Jordan when she’d taken to these bouts of illness lately.
Abel had the same bouts, not too long ago.
And she’d helped him through it.
Now Jordan was on the streets and she was here.
It was all in the best interest of the brood, she reminded herself.
Wasn’t it?
Discipline is its own reward.
She could have herself another listen, tonight when she returned; give Abel another chance.
Convince herself, the way she’d done so many times lately.
She’d pretend. She was good at that too. Including pretending she didn’t know what a sweet man Kemp was. Or that she noticed the way he looked at her. She’d done that for his protection as well as her own. Abel could be possessive, which she’d long ago mistaken for love.
All things considered, it was acceptable for her to hold back these miniscule pieces of information. Even if the information could be considered big.
Right?
Dev has Haenus’ stone. The Similitude, rendered from the Rebellion.
And a weapon. Flint. As yet untested.
Magpie longed to sing, even to hum, to both soothe and amuse herself. She didn’t dare do either.
Shame heated her cheeks as she fought the urge to rest. Sleep.
The brood had created more Similitude, hadn’t they?
Even so, not telling him wasn’t right. She knew it wasn’t right.
But then, sending her Jordan out on the streets when she’d barely been able to stand ten hours earlier wasn’t right either.
It wasn’t like she was never going to tell him, Magpie reasoned.
It just wouldn’t be today.
CHAPTER 26
Dev sped up the hill and parked the van in front of Sean and Charlotte’s house, relieved both he and Meda were once again inside the Keepers’ network.
He glanced at her in the rearview mirror, clad in her contractors’ clothes. Same as when they’d driven to the warehouse, she’d ridden in the back. Incognito.
She’d heard what he’d said about his scars in the motel room. She’d listened. Remembered. Understood.
And he’d paid her back by lying to her. Not only about what’d happened so long ago. About what she must’ve seen in his godforsaken memory.
And now, he’d betray her trust by breaking the promise he’d made to her hours ago.
He could only pray she’d someday understand.
The sun rose, casting the city in a palette of pink and purple. A new day. A new beginning.
And, hopefully an ending.
Curtis had sent him the latest update on the ever-diminishing levels of energy in the network. Dev grimaced. He had two days left in the human realm.
I’ve got to act.
Both he and Meda jumped out of the van and hustled up the porch steps.
Jerking to a halt, he patted his pockets. “Meda. I forgot my phone,” he said, forcing the lie out. “I’ll be right there. Go ahead in. They’re expecting us.”
“Hurry.” Turning to face him, the sun cast her hair and skin in a golden glow. She was all he’d ever wanted. And everything he didn’t even know he needed. She smiled at him, for him, in a way he would never deserve. Still, he bent to kiss her lush lips, parting for him. Drinking her in, he plundered her mouth, wrapped his arms around her. And the sweetness of her flooded his senses.
He might never see her again. At least, not in this realm.
Releasing her, she stared up at him, her eyes hooded with desire. “I want you too,” she murmured. “Right now, we need to hurry.” Pointedly, she opened the door, dashed inside, and shut it behind her.
“Always. Forever,” he said to the closed door, the empty porch.
Backing away, he patted his jeans pocket.
She had all the stones except one.
The Flint.
The stone that enabled him to hold his own death in his hands.
The opportunity he’d paid and plotted for over the last three months was his for the taking.
In seconds, Nick and the others would charge through the front door, looking for him.
He owed the clan. The Watchers. But no one more than Meda.
The part of him that lived between the inches; that existed for recklessness to dull the fear and self-loathing, stood frozen watching his life, like the ledge in the Watchers’ realm, crumble beneath his feet.
This was his Compulsion. His method. His madness.
Don’t endanger your fellow Keepers. Don’t take more than you give. Find your strength in your weakness.
The conditions swept through his mind. Perhaps today he could finally fulfill them.
This was his fight. And he would fight, as he’d always done, for the weak. Right now, the Keepers were weak.
The darkness in his soul leapt. Off the ledge. He would take his revenge for the boy. For the man. And help the clan at the same time.
No one could deny him that.
Spinning on his heel, he sprinted to his motorcycle parked in the driveway, jumped on and fired it up. He raced down the street, barely pausing at the stop sign.
His soul ached for Meda. He would be destroying her with his choice. But he had no other recourse. His need for her was soul deep; her quiet, inner strength was powerful, potent, sustaining. The kind he’d sought all his life and could never achieve. He would be forever grateful to the Watchers for placing him in her path, for the memories he could relive on long, lonely days. Perhaps he’d even be allowed to look in on her from time to time.
Racing across the bridge that would take him into the city, he wheeled his bike through traffic. He refused to sacrifice his clan. For that reason, he’d power down soon, so they couldn’t track him. It was for their own good. If he didn’t return, his clan would know the Flint didn’t work. If he did, they could go on using it as a weapon.
He was expendable. They weren’t. He’d return to the Watchers’ realm, one way or the other. They still had lives to live. And he would protect those lives with his own.
He steamed through a yellow light, just shy of red. Horns blasted. Brakes squealed. The Keepers regularly monitored the Betrayers’ milieu. But he had neither the time nor the desire to search through every rat hole in the city for the one man he figured could tell him what he wanted to know.
Abel.
So instead of traipsing all over the city looking for him, he’d put the Betrayers—who’d known he was in the realm since the minute he’d crossed—to work on that front.
Dev had to be strategic and quick. He parked his bike in the outskirts of the Strip District. With some wires he’d taken from the stash of supplies at the warehouse, he secured the Flint to the leather strap around his neck, alongside his Vitality stone. Then sprinted to the underbelly of the train station. Here, concrete was king and a subculture thrived, a place the city didn’t even know existed.
He zipped past a homeless man, sleeping in a lounge chair on the sidewalk near a parking garage. Only when he arrived at the train tracks beyond the station did he slow to a walk. Weeds grew, lush and full in the city’s jungle climate. Vines snaked their way up and around abandoned buildings, choking out whatever life there was to be had.
When
he heard the shouts, he picked up his pace along the tracks until they angled behind a collection of ramshackle houses and shops. Glancing at his phone, he noted that an hour and a half had passed since he’d left the network.
His adrenaline pumping, he skidded down a gravel embankment. Tore his way through a wall of brush, and over a sagging chain link fence.
Inside the pawnshop, a throng of humans looted. Smashing display cases with weapons and their bare hands, threats and curses warred with the sounds of destruction. Several of them wielded baseball bats. Chunks of glass lay on the sidewalk, the remains of the front bay window. No police. No sirens. Not even in the distance.
Perfect.
In seconds, he calculated his odds. And the time he figured he had to go full power with his Vitality stone before his clan could track him.
He charged across the street and into the store. Collaring one man from behind, Dev gripped the hand wielding the bat, and smashed it into a nearby display of glassware. The bat clattered to the floor. Before the thug could take any kind of an advantage, Dev swept one of his legs from underneath him. He buckled, and Dev shoved him to the ground.
A second later, he held the baseball bat in his hand, aimed at the thug’s head. And pressed his size twelve boot across the man’s throat.
As one, the mob ceased their destruction, and whirled around to stare at Dev.
“Son ‘a bitch,” the thug growled. His eyes glared hate, beneath the words ‘Hard’ and ‘Luck,’ tattooed where his eyebrows had once been.
“All of you,” Dev shouted. Damn Abel. He’d manipulated them. Turned them into this. Humans were strong. Except when they were weak. And by gods, he’d protect them, fight for them.
A man, perhaps the owner, lay in a corner, dead. Obviously shot. Dev grimaced. It was too late for him. But maybe not the rest. “Go home. Before there’s trouble.” He raised the bat in the air, aimed it at the thug’s head, and swung down.
And stopped within an inch of his forehead.
The Watcher (Crossing Realms Book 2) Page 18