by H. D. Smith
I threw up my hands. “Oh my god, no wonder you people winded up destroying yourselves. It’s a miracle any of the realms survived.”
Harry’s eyes widened. He used his will to slide the cot to the bars, trapping my legs.
You shouldn’t have said that, Jayne said.
No shit.
He leaned down and white-knuckled the bars near my head. “What do you know, Claire?” His voice was calm, but he wasn’t.
I swallowed. “I overheard Mab telling Mace about the fourth realm,” I confessed. “She said the blacksmith was a child of all realms, and I had fourth realm blood.”
He arched a disbelieving eyebrow. “She discussed the fourth realm with Mace?”
“Yes, but she made him forget. She didn’t know I was listening.”
“She would have sensed you.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know how, but Cinnamon hid me from her.”
His head cocked to one side. He didn’t believe me.
“She also spoke of her twin.”
“She mentioned Jayne?” Harry blurted out and stopped.
Jayne! Is he talking about you?
Jayne was silent.
Talk to me.
I don’t know. No, it can’t be, she muttered.
Harry cleared his throat again. I looked up. He was studying me.
“She said I reminded her of Jayne. Is it because of my blood? My fourth realm blood, or does she see a resemblance to her sister in my face?”
He frowned.
“You’re not going to let me remember anyway. I’ve heard the omen. I know you think I’m the harbinger. Just tell me the truth.”
His face went pale, and his expression went blank. He jerked from the bars. “It’s forbidden to discuss.”
“By who?”
“Royal decree.”
“But you all are the royals—decree something else.”
“It isn’t that simple,” he yelled, losing some of his composure.
I rolled my eyes, which didn’t make him happy. I was trapped here. He could be pissed all he wanted. I wanted answers.
“Are you my father?” I asked him point blank.
He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know. None of us do.” His voice was quiet.
How is that possible? How can they not know?
“Did you ever sleep with my mother?”
Harry’s eyes shot open. “Mab certainly didn’t. You heard the omen. She is as likely as I am to be your parent.”
“Right, but as she so eloquently put it—” In a horrible rendition of Mab’s voice I said, “I seriously doubt Melinda was somehow impregnated with one of my ovum.” Then I remembered her next line. Of course, with magic, I suppose anything is possible. “Fine. How did I get fourth realm blood? Was I born with it?”
“No, your original blood was replaced.”
“Replaced? When?”
“We don’t know.”
“There’s so much you don’t know. How is that possible to be in charge and not know? You said she couldn’t have taken a child of his. I assume that goes for you too, so wouldn’t my blood have been checked when I was born? My mother was dating the Devil.”
“At the time you were taken, there was no indication you were his child.”
“You ran tests?”
“No.” Harry shrugged. “He wasn’t claiming you.”
“That’s it? You just took his word for it? Unbelievable. When was the fact that my blood was replaced discovered?”
“After you were found.”
“Found?”
He paused and rubbed his forehead again. “After he took you back, before the deal was struck, he hid you and your mother. Your location was unknown for four years.”
Four years, Jayne said. We don’t remember.
“I was with my mother for four years?”
We should have remembered.
“Yeah, I know. I mean, I’ve been doing a lot of reminiscing lately, and we—I don’t have any recollection of that time.”
He’d started pacing.
“Please,” I begged.
He stopped. “It was one of Mab’s conditions.”
Furious, I attempted to push away from the bars. I wanted to stand and throw the cot against the wall. “You let her take the memories of my mother,” I screamed at him. “I have a million crappy memories of every other goddamn thing that has ever happened to me in my entire miserable life, but the one thing that might have made me happy was taken away. You intervened so there wouldn’t be a war. You made the deal. You let her take them.”
Without hesitation, he nodded.
“I hate you.” I had total fucking recall of everything but my mother.
“Claire,” he said. His voice was soft, the way he’d spoken to me as a child.
I blinked back tears. He wouldn’t make me cry. “How exactly was my blood switched?” I asked. “Wouldn’t it eventually go back to what I originally had? My body is making blood like everyone else’s, right? And what about DNA—can’t you do a paternity test?”
“Switched may have been the wrong word. It was more complete than that. Total replacement—everything was changed. Magically changed.”
“Everything has DNA? It’s in my hair, my skin, not just my blood. It was all changed?”
Harry sighed, the wrinkles around his eyes showing his age. “There is no DNA. Not with us.”
“So without my original blood, we’re just SOL.”
“You could say that.”
“You think I’m the harbinger because of the blood.”
“Yes.” He raised his hand, ready to cast the spell
“You’re going to make me forget about all of this?”
“I must.”
“How exactly am I going to fix time if I don’t know I should be trying? The prophecy said I'd fix it, but how can I do that if I don’t know about it?”
“If you’re the girl, you will find a way.”
OMG, was he kidding?
“Wait,” I said, before he had a chance to wipe my memory. “Cinnamon doesn’t want to go forward with the plan, but she believes Junior is the one who trapped them. She can be convinced not to participate. Please tell her the truth. She’ll believe you.”
He lowered his hand. “Have you seen Junior dead?”
“Yes.”
“Cinnamon has already made her choice. I will not interfere with what is a certainty.”
“But Mab is using them. She wants their power for her realm.”
Harry’s expression didn’t change as he lifted his hand again. “I can’t get involved.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Silence.
“Mab knows the blacksmith has my blood. Wylan James is going to figure out the blood is mine. I hope that’s something you would prefer to keep quiet.”
Harry slid the cot back against the wall.
“You’re a bastard. No better than they are.”
He waved his hand and said, “Forget.”
Twenty Three
I lifted my head to see Harry studying me. How did I get back here, in the basement prison of his safe house?
I closed my eyes and pressed my hand to my forehead. A sharp pain was followed by images flooding back into my mind. Images of the conversation Mab and Mace had in Purgatory. Followed by the conversation Harry and I’d just had. My memories of figuring out how to reverse spells were all intertwined with the ones of my mother and Jayne. I held back a sob when I remembered what Mab had done to my mother—four years of missing memories.
In the blink of an eye, it was all returned to me by the spell I’d cast so Mace couldn’t trap me in a nightmare and make me forget. In my mind’s eye that spell’s geode glowed a bright red, as it fixed the missing memories Harry had tried to remove.
His brows were lowered, his expression serious.
“What were we talking about?” I asked, as if I were trying to remember. I squinted and peered down just as Mace had done when Mab c
ast her forget spell on him.
When I lifted my gaze, Harry’s face was now relaxed. A slow smile curved his lips, but there was no joy. His eyes were dark with sadness. “Nothing important,” he said. “I’ll leave you to rest.”
He left as if we’d never discussed the fourth realm or my blood or my mother or the fact that none of them knew who my father was.
Nothing important. Do you agree, Jayne?
She was quiet.
Are you there?
Nothing.
I released a heavy breath. Don’t do this to me, not again.
Jayne was silent—too silent. I closed my eyes and stepped outside my body.
“Where are you? Show yourself,” I demanded, but she said nothing. “Please.”
Nothing.
I opened my eyes and returned to my body. Jayne was gone. I looked inward at the other spells still within. Nothing was different. How could she be gone? Where could she have gone?
“You have permission to speak,” I said, but nothing happened.
I closed my eyes and leaned back against the bars. The forgotten conversation with Harry swirled in my head. He hadn’t cared about Junior’s death. He’d refused to tell Cinnamon the truth.
What has happened must happen. Quaid’s words.
Was that why Harry wouldn’t help? He’d said Cinnamon already made her choice. Was there no way to save Junior? Were all my attempts destined to fail?
I put my hand to my stomach. “Do I kill Junior to save you, little one?”
I curled into a ball on the cot. I wanted to sleep, but my mind was too focused to rest. I was trying to reconcile the gaps in my memory. The four years I’d spent with my mother were gone. My first memories were from a hospital. I’d overlooked them before, as I assumed I’d been a baby, newly born.
Now I went deeper. I remembered the pretty smile of a young nurse named Sarah. She’d wanted custody, but because she was unmarried, they denied her. Single women weren’t eligible to foster. This was the first in a long line of disappointments.
I didn’t speak until I was six, when I had to call 9-1-1 because my foster mother OD’d on sleeping pills.
The more I recalled, the more the girl in my head was like someone else. I knew her hopes and dreams and disappointments. I knew the name and face of the first guy she ever slept with, but couldn’t really remember the touch of his skin.
The door at the top of the stairs opened. Mace. The dull tingle of his mark was somehow dampened now by Mab’s mark. I searched within and found the geode, a pale violet like his eyes. I picked up the two halves and slammed them together. I felt his mark on my back disappear.
“Get up,” he commanded.
We weren’t in Purgatory, but I obeyed. I had no choice. Not while he had the power to destroy the baby.
He steadied his gaze on me. “Come,” he said, motioning me forward.
I walked over to the bars but didn’t look into his eyes. I flinched when he reached through the bars to touch me. He held me in place with his will.
“Mace, please don’t hurt the baby.”
He placed his hand against my belly. I cried out as a sharp pain ran through me, but it wasn’t focused, as before. It was different. The energy just bounced around, hitting nothing.
Stilling, he drew his hand back, fisting it at his side. “What did you do?”
I clutched my stomach. “Nothing.”
He wrenched open the door, pushing his way into the cell. I backed against the wall.
“I thought I was clear,” he said, pressing my body into the wall. “You belong to me now.” He placed his hands on either side of me, caging me in. He leaned in close to my face. “I get to decide what you can and can’t have.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You can’t change the rules, Claire. Not in the middle of the game.”
My heart raced. He was standing too close. I couldn’t breathe. He pinned my wrists when I attempted to push him away. He wrapped his free hand around the nape of my neck. I struggled, but stopped fighting when he tightened his grip and crushed my body against the wall.
Power surged in me before I heard the tiny wisps of energy sparking off my left hand.
He was in my face, but I wasn’t afraid he’d kiss me, this time. He was too angry for that. “Where is it?”
“What?” I gasped, barely able to breathe.
“Where’s the tiny piece of Jack I need to collect?”
“What?” Again, I touched my belly. “No. Not the baby.” Tears welled. “I didn’t do anything. I swear it. It can’t be gone.”
“Yet, it is.” His nails dug into my wrist.
The beat of my heart pounded loudly in my head. The baby was gone. I’d never see its heartbeat on the ultrasound or feel its kick. The crackle of power streamed to the surface. Wisps of energy covered my hand.
Mace was too close. He was suffocating me. I wanted him off. I needed him away. If he saw the truth in my eyes that I didn’t know what happened to the baby, he’d be more reasonable.
I put my left hand to his face, hoping to push him back with the building power. On contact with his skin, a pulse of energy surged into the room as his eyes fixed on mine. Everything went quiet.
I took in a ragged breath. A tiny vein under his eye twitched. It beat a fast staccato, increasing when he realized he couldn’t move. His eyes were angry, confused, and scared. He wasn’t in control, and he knew it.
“Let me go,” I whispered.
His hands loosened then fell away. With my hand still on his face, he stepped back giving me room to breathe. Our gazes stayed locked. He was trapped, but the power he was using to fight my hold hadn’t let up.
“Stop fighting me.”
His body relaxed, but his mind continued to struggle.
My grip trembled, but I didn’t let go or break eye contact. The power felt like the suggestions I’d made before, only stronger. It was like all the magic I could do had a taste, and the more power that was needed, the stronger the taste. I could recognize it now by taste, or by mentally picturing the geodes.
“Was there ever a baby?” I had no doubts before, and Mace’s actions had given me no reason to, but I wanted to hear him say it.
A vein at his eye continued to twitch. “Yes.”
His resistance was making me weak, but I focused on his eyes ignoring how the power of the spell was draining my body. “What happened to it?”
“Stolen. Lost. Destroyed.”
Destroyed? Did Mace think I’d killed the baby? Stolen? Who could have taken it? “Did you tell anyone about it?”
“No.”
My concentration waned, and I almost lost eye contact. I had to hurry. “Could you tell it was Jack’s?”
“No.”
Not that it mattered, but I’d hoped he’d been sure.
I was losing focus; my hold was crumbling. The power to trap him was too draining. It would slip through my fingers soon. “You’re going to forget about the baby,” I said. “I was never pregnant.”
“You were never pregnant,” he repeated as my energy dropped, and I fell to the floor at his feet.
I could hear the whirl of the air conditioner and the hum of the florescent lights. The dead quiet of the spell was gone.
Mace backed away. He bent and pressed his right palm against his temple then touched the side of his face where my hand had been. “What did you do?” he wheezed.
I rubbed my palm. It was warm to the touch.
Mace yanked me off the floor, the sudden movement making me dizzy. “Answer me,” he shouted. He threw me onto the cot when my legs gave out. He leaned over me, pulling me to a sitting position, then pushing my back against the bars as he squeezed my neck.
“I-I don’t know what happened.”
Without meaning to, I rubbed my palm again. Mace clasped my wrist, but dropped it quickly as if it burned him. His hand tightened around my throat. “We spoke. What was said?”
“I swear I have no idea.�
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His eyes narrowed and he jerked me forward—so close our heads were touching. His nostrils flared. He was angry. “You’re lying.”
I could feel the anger rolling off him like waves, but I sensed no conviction in his voice when he called me a liar. It was like he couldn’t see the lie, but was sure I had lied. I was sure it was the spell. We’d spoken about the baby, but he was told to forget about the baby, which must be confusing his truth sense. I doubted I’d broken his ability completely where I was concerned, but about this one thing—the baby—he couldn’t see the truth.
“You’d know if I was lying. You can see the truth, you just don’t want to believe it.” Trying to focus his attention on something else, I said, “You came down here for something. What was it?”
Looking down, as if trying to find the answer in his mind. He closed his eyes. A moment later he pushed himself off me and stood.
Glancing at the stairs, he pointed as if remembering then moved his finger over to the bars on the cell door, as if retracing his steps in his mind. Scratching the back of his head, he looked toward the stairs again then back at me, brows furrowed. He couldn’t remember. He eyed my left arm and fisted the hand he’d burned.
“Maybe it’s a don’t touch what’s hers reminder,” I suggested, as if Mab’s mark had somehow caused his pain.
He cocked an eyebrow. He could pretend I belonged to him all he wanted, but we both knew Mab called the shots. He flexed his hand. “You should hope she gives you to me or,” he glanced around the cell, “this could be your new reality for years.”
As if life as his slave would be any better.
He opened the cell door to leave. Glancing back, he said, “The Deeps may not be as forgiving next time. No one’s ever the same when they return.”
That record was still safe. He wouldn’t understand, but I would never be the same. I dropped my gaze from his smug expression.
“I suggest you cooperate when you return,” Mace said. “She can be cruel if you don’t.”
Was he serious? Did he actually think what she’d done so far was tame? I peered at him. “She dropped me into a hole for a hundred years. I had a conscious mind until I turned to dust and blew away on the wind. I’m more sure of what she’s capable of than you can possibly imagine.” The absurdity of his warning was laughable. He had no clue what she was capable of.