“He won’t be. Templeton is an asshole, but he’s brilliant. He knows I’ll knock his fucking house down if he pushes me. As long as he plays nice, his kingdom is safe inside that box.”
He looked at Dr. Oxford again. “Continue, please.”
“Nine o’clock. Battery Park.” Dr. Oxford whipped out a pair of black glasses with a thick, awkward frame. “These will have to serve as props. They’re 3D, so if Ms. Falcone insists on seeing for herself, she’ll at least get a little play on color—or a slight headache.”
Rhom stood up and towered over the table. “Am I the only one here who smells a load of shit? Seems too damn convenient that Isabetta just picked up the phone and laid the prophecy right in our hands.” He looked at me, and then slowly panned over to Greer. “With all due respect, boss, I think your judgment is a little clouded right now.”
You could hear a feather hit the floor. Loden and Thomas averted their eyes to their plates while Morgan—always the instigator—let a short laugh escape her throat. Leda was the only one with the balls to put the boys in their places.
“All right, you two.” She glanced at Greer. “You and I are going to have a chat later.” Her eyes went to Rhom next. “And you, a little discretion, please.”
“Look,” Rhom countered, “all I’m saying is we have no proof if this is legit. Since when did we stop vetting situations that could get us killed?”
“Since the situation involves the vessel!” Greer shot back.
Rhom backed down and took his seat.
The room went quiet again, and everyone turned to the doctor who was sitting catatonic in his chair. I imagined he was used to faculty socials and the company of fellow scientists, so the testosterone flooding the room must have sent the fear of God through him.
“My apologies, Dr. Oxford.” Leda put her hand on his arm to reassure him that a brawl wasn’t imminent. “I think these boys need a good dose of manners. But don’t you worry about them. I think the tantrum has passed.”
“I was out of line, boss. You can kick my ass later.”
Greer ran his hand through his hair as he began pacing the dining room. “I think we’re all a little wired.” He reached inside the sideboard cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Scotch. “Anyone else need a drink?”
We resumed our dinner and civilly discussed Rhom’s concerns about the validity of the lead. If Isabetta’s motives were to get her hands on the fictitious glasses she thought Oxford was working on, Greer’s posse would be there for backup. The pros and cons were weighed, and the pros won.
A hand slipped around my shoulder. Loden was a natural flirt, and tonight was no different than any other. He winked at me with his brilliant sky-blue eyes and grinned. “Don’t you worry, love. I’ve got you tomorrow night.”
I bumped him with my shoulder, reciprocating with the harmless flirting. “I think I might have to keep you safe,” I grinned back.
We both laughed, and a second later the room shook. Greer stood up and nearly took the table with him. His chest heaved as he leaned across it and gave Loden a warning look that would have given an ordinary man a reason to piss his pants.
Greer turned his eyes on me for a few uncomfortable seconds, and then he glared back at Loden. The message was clear—hands off.
TWENTY-TWO
Greer’s actions the night before added weight to Leda’s suspicions. No matter how innocent my bantering with Loden had been, we were still flirting, and Greer’s instinct to cockblock any male that came within ten feet of me, with even the slightest amorous intent, had come out like a lion.
It was times like these that I missed my mother the most. Maeve Kelley would have known how to handle such situations. Maeve Kelley would know what to do with a man who confused partnership with ownership.
I decided to seek out the next best thing.
The front door of Den of Oddities and Antiquities was different. The color had gone from a deep blue to a warm red. I had to check the name on the window to make sure I hadn’t walked up the wrong flight of steps.
I went for the handle, but the door opened before I reached it. Ava stood on the other side and beckoned me in. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”
“You painted the door.”
“Yes. Next spring it will painted again. A door’s color symbolizes what’s behind it. Historically, a red door signaled to weary travelers that they were welcome—and safe. Anyone who walks through that door is safe, Alex. Remember that.”
Melanie was rummaging through a cardboard box on the counter. “Good morning, Alex. Nice to see you again.” She pulled her hand out of the box and opened it. The flat object resting on her palm began to move. It looked like a piece of paper folded several times over, freed to unfold and return to its original shape. Or one of those magic sponges that expanded when you added water. It flew into the air and zoomed around the two-story room. As it buzzed past my head, it sounded like the flapping wings of a hummingbird or the propeller of a toy helicopter.
My eyes followed it around the room. “What is that?”
Melanie snapped her fingers three times and the object stopped in mid-flight near the ceiling of the second story. It spiraled toward the floor but slowed as it caught the air and fluttered like a leaf riding a breeze.
“It’s a pseudo wren,” Ava said.
Melanie retrieved it and held up the flat, inanimate cutout. I examined it, looking for some sort of hidden motor. But it was just a thin piece of paper in the silhouette of a bird. “How—”
The two of them laughed softly as the illusion did its magic on me. “It’s a trick, isn’t it?”
Melanie snapped her fingers and the paper began to move again.
“Melanie,” Ava scolded gently.
She stopped short of a third snap, and the paper died back down to what it was—a lifeless piece of pulp.
Ave wrapped her arm around my shoulder and steered me to the sofa in the reading nook. It was the same spot where we’d found the missing amulet stuffed inside the big book of magic.
“So, what’s got these shoulders of yours tensed so tight? Tell me what’s bothering you. And don’t lie, because I’ll know.”
“Why do you think something is bothering me?”
She smiled in that way people did when they knew your motives better than you knew them yourself. Ava raised me for three years after my mother died, and even before then I’d seen her every day for the first five years of my life. She was the next best thing to my mother.
“Would you like something to drink? I just made a pot of gyokuro tea. Expensive as hell, but damn is it good.”
“That sounds great.”
She returned with the pot and poured us both a cup. “Okay. Out with it. What’s got you so wound up?”
“Ava, what do you know about imprinting?”
She considered the question for a moment. “You mean like an animal imprinting on its parents?”
“No. Like mating.”
Her eyelids dropped as her brow and mouth flattened. “Oh, that kind. Can be a real nuisance if you’re not receptive to the attention.” She took a sip of tea and froze. Then she looked at me and waited for me to confirm the question written all over her face.
“Leda thinks Greer has imprinted on me.”
She took her time processing what I’d just said, and then she smiled and cupped my cheek in her right hand. “Maeve would be very happy for you.”
“What?” My tea went flying as I jerked back. “I didn’t come here for your blessing, Ava. I need to wrap my head around it, and I was hoping you could shed some unbiased light on how this works. God, Ava. Greer and I fight all the time. I don’t know how he can even stand me.”
She laughed softly and sighed before sinking into the cushion. “My sweet, naive child. Do you have any idea how special you are?” The smile disappeared from her face as her eyes scrunched together. “Wait…imprinting is triggered by—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Leda already told me. See, that�
��s the problem. We haven’t done that.”
“Well, I’m fairly certain there is no other way.”
She got up from the sofa and started rifling through the shop’s private bookshelf, the one with the books on dragons and who knows what else.
She found the one she was looking for and flipped through its pages. “It’s right here.”
I got up and went to see for myself. I looked over her shoulder at the book titled Rituals of the Gods. “What does this book have to do with Greer?”
Ava looked at me oddly. “What do you mean? This is their Bible.”
“Their Bible?”
“Technically, yes.”
Ava took one look at my face and moved into action. “Alex? Sit down!” She grabbed me around the waist. “Melanie!” The two of them managed to get me to the sofa before I fainted. “Alex, what on earth just happened?”
I was speechless. I knew Greer was different, but I never knew how different. I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came out was a garble of words even I couldn’t make out. I guess it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise.
Ava grabbed the book and dropped it on the coffee table. “Show me, Alex. What scared you like that?”
I pointed to the title of the book in the top margin of the page. Ava followed my finger, and after a brief moment of confusion, her eyes went wide. “You mean you didn’t know?”
I shook my head. “Not exactly.”
“Well, what did you think he was?”
“Oh, I don’t know…maybe your garden variety immortal. Hell, Ava, not a freaking god!”
“Technically, he’s a demigod. They all are—Leda, Thomas, Loden, Rhom. And that cat who calls herself Morgan.”
Her concerned expression was replaced by a grin. “So, how does it feel to be worshipped by a god?”
“Terrifying.”
“Well, if it’s true and you haven’t been intimate with him, I guess we need to figure out how you did it.”
We decided to try a little free-form regression. Ava would get me to a state where my mind could wander and address whatever my soul deemed most important. If bonding with a demigod wasn’t at the top of that list, then what was?
Ava opened two bags of loose herbs and released the smell through the small kitchen at the back of the shop. It was the smell of rosemary mixed with something pungent and sharp. The scent triggered an image of my mother climbing the two-story ladder, searching the hundreds of drawers that lined the wall for the ingredients of whatever concoction she was cooking up.
“Rosemary will help with your memory once the agrimony has cleared the blockage.” She mixed the two bags into a pot on the stove and let the water be its own spoon as the slurry began to swirl.
I looked closer at the sludge I was expected to drink. “What’s that nasty smell?”
“It’s best you don’t know,” she smirked.
She saw the growing anxiety on my face and consoled me. “You trust me, don’t you? Because if you don’t, this is all for nothing. Trust is the most important ingredient in any psyche working.”
My mother trusted Ava with her most important possession—me. And for that reason alone, there was no one I trusted more.
I nodded and sat at the table to wait for the soul searching experiment to begin. At best, I’d find some answers to how I’d managed to manipulate a god into thinking I was his chosen one; at worst, I’d have to suffer swallowing a vile concoction and deal with the aftereffects of indigestion.
Ava handed me a cup of warm liquid. “Now, I need you to take this down quickly. The whole cup.”
I did as she said. I drank the liquid faster than my taste buds could react. “Oh, that’s disgusting,” I managed between gags.
“Eat this. It will help.”
The peppermint candy masked the horrible aftertaste of the potion.
“Better?”
“Much.” I leaned back in the chair as the light dimmed and my head began to spin. The room was becoming a faint backdrop to the tunnel I was suddenly walking down. At the end I could see the light getting brighter again.
A voice was calling to me in the distance, and I recognized it as Ava’s. She was telling me to follow the path and let her know when I reached the end.
“Keep walking, Alex. Don’t you even think about that monster at the other end of the tunnel.” The voice wasn’t Ava’s anymore—it was mine. It wasn’t the first time I’d run up against my alter ego, and I knew better than to argue with myself.
I kept moving, but the sphere of light moved in the same direction, staying the same dime-sized mirage in the distance. It was like I was on a treadmill, or the light was a carrot dangling over my head.
As I grew frustrated and questioned the useless experiment, I was suddenly thrown headfirst into it. I fell through billowing fans of evergreen fronds that bent deeply as I tumbled toward the ground. They snapped back up toward the sky and swallowed the glimpse of light from the hole I’d fallen through. The limbs slowed me down, and a thick layer of leaves and moss cushioned my fall.
I sat up and looked at the forest, the one I knew like the back of my hand, the one place where I held the power. He couldn’t outrun me here.
My legs extended in front of me like two dirty sticks, covered with scratches from briars, and bruises from colliding with anything that got in my way. I was too small to fight, but I could run.
Blood began to flow in the center of my palm as I watched my skin slice open. An image of Ava filled my head. She took my hand in her own bloodstained palm as her soul seemed to enter mine. A million lights exploded like a sparkler in my chest, and for an instant, I felt as if the entire universe had filled me.
“Show me,” she said.
I scanned the tree line, marveling as a blue filter covered the green canopy and every leaf and blade of grass as far as I could see. The forest had become an aquamarine sea.
Something was moving toward me from the edge of the trees, crushing sticks and pinecones on the forest floor. My head snapped in the direction of the sound, but I knew what was coming. I knew those boots as if I’d been running from them just a moment ago.
A figure appeared at the edge of the trees, his white shirt smeared with the blood of chickens, and his rubber boots covered with their shit. I stood up to face him. He reeked of death and cruelty, and I could still smell the sickening fear that rose from my gut every day of that summer.
He stepped from the trees and waited for me to run, because that’s what made it fun for him. He was a predator. He took pleasure in hunting children who had already lost everything in their short little lives.
But on that day, I didn’t run.
Ava’s invisible hand squeezed harder as he moved toward me. He sneered with his tobacco-stained teeth and his cracked lips, and the smell of whiskey mixed with blood and dirt hit my nose.
His hand reached out as he took a step closer, and then he walked right through me.
A bird distracted me, flapping its noisy wings and calling out from the trees. When I looked behind me, I saw a young girl with flame-red hair lying on the ground. She wiped the blood from the cut on her knee as she climbed back to her feet. The farmer stood paralyzed as the blue light coming from her eyes held him in place like a moth pinned to a board.
“I can’t,” I whispered.
You have to see. It was Ava’s voice coming from inside of me.
The bird kept flapping its noisy wings and interjecting its presence with a throaty call. The deep vibrato of the kraa kraa grew louder as more birds filled the upper canopy. I looked up and saw their black feathers protruding through the dense fronds of hemlock and pine. One by one they appeared, and within a minute the trees were more black than green.
The girl screamed as the light coming from her eyes grew into a blowtorch of deadly blue fire.
A handful of birds descended from the trees, diving toward the ground, smashing into the farmer with the force of downed fighter planes. Their wings cut through his ski
n like knives and filled the air with bright ribbons of blood. A dozen birds become hundreds. They tore at his clothes and skin with their curved beaks, pulling the flesh from his bones as they ate him.
He never screamed, not once, the only sound coming from the rapid flapping of wings.
I stumbled backward when the flock took up the surrounding space and grew into a giant ball of red and black feathers. The farmer’s body began to disappear as they consumed it. The commotion of wings compressed into a tight sphere that dwindled until the remaining round mass of feathers unfolded into a single black bird.
My eyes closed. When they reopened, I was on the floor with my head in Ava’s lap. Her hand was still wrapped around mine. She let go, and the bright blood between our palms gave off the smell of dirt and copper.
Ava got up to wash the blood from her hand. She returned with a basin of water and a couple of towels. It appeared we both needed bandaging from the deep cuts.
“I’m sorry if that hurt,” she said. “I had to do it fast so you wouldn’t stop me. You’d never let me draw your blood if you saw it coming.”
“I bet it was more painful for you.” I examined the deep cut on her palm. “It can’t be easy slicing your own hand open like that.”
Her eyes flashed wide as she nodded in agreement.
The whole vision—or whatever it was—flashed through my head again, and the tears welled up like a dam behind my eyes.
“Go ahead, sweetheart. Let it all out.”
I crumbled under the weight of it and cried like a baby. “I thought it was me.”
“Thought what was you?”
“All this time, I thought I killed him.” I wiped my face dry and sat up on the floor. “For years, I’ve had these sick visions about it. I remember him coming after me, and then the birds were in the trees and…” I looked at Ava and shook my head. “I thought there’d be fire. I remember a fire.”
Ava, who’d held it together until this point, wrapped her arm around me and began to sob into my shoulder. “My poor baby. I didn’t know.” She heaved against me a few more times and then stopped and pulled back to look at me with her wet eyes. “This was what happened, Alex. It was the power of the coven that killed him. Most likely a manifestation of it. The mind sees what it needs to see to protect it. All those other memories were just your mind’s way of coping with that monster.”
The Blood Thief (The Fitheach Trilogy Book 2) Page 21