by Kat Colmer
“The Book of Threads records the names of all Eros Guardians ever born. Each Guardian has his or her own page.” Professor Scholler circled the name in the center of the image. “On this page, every potential romantic bond they make appears, and the strength of the bond is shown in the number of these threads.” He ran an index finger along the silvery lines.
“There are a lot of names on that page,” Cora said.
“Yes.” The professor nodded. “And a lot of weak bonds. According to Richard’s notes, this Eros Guardian made bad choices and lost her chance at love.”
My eyes fixed on the flimsy threads. They radiated out from the middle of the page, a spray of ineffective rays of sunlight, too insubstantial to reach far enough for them to warm anything.
Is that what my page looks like?
Too disturbed by the thought of my Book of Threads page, I hurried to ask the next question. “What does that have to do with Cora being in danger?”
“It seems this book is the Groth Maar’s window into the state of each Eros Guardian’s heart,” the professor continued. “The more bonds with one person, the greater the potential for genuine love. As a Guardian nears his or her eighteenth birthday, the Groth Maar manipulate situations, put temptation in the Guardian’s path, and use every means within their power to sever bonds between a Guardian and any potential partner with whom there is a chance at lasting love.”
My mind worked overtime. How many threads were there between my name and Cora’s? Was her name even on my Book of Threads page? She wasn’t exactly a romantic interest. Ah hell, after the gazebo she wasn’t exactly just a friend, either. I hated the uncertainty of all these unknowns, so I focused on the here and now. “Again, how does this put Cora in danger?”
The prof drew a breath. “Because she’s what the Groth Maar call a Loose Thread.”
More sewing references. Fan-fricking-tastic.
The prof pushed off from his desk and turned around to pick up the notebook with the unusual coil again. Then he faced me and dropped his first bombshell. “The third coil on your letter hasn’t disappeared. By all rights, this means you’ve chosen someone with whom you have the potential for real and lasting love.”
Holy hell! Air. I needed air. There it was; the one thing I didn’t want to think about: Cora and me and—breath. Take a damn breath!—love. Friendship? Always. Attraction? Well, yeah, couldn’t deny that anymore. But love? I gripped the leather upholstery to stop myself from bolting.
I couldn’t look at her. No need to; I could hear her spine stiffen.
“I’m not… There’s no way I’m in love with him!” She stared at the professor, avoiding any eye contact with me.
“That’s not what I said.” Professor Scholler peered at her over his glasses. “I said the two of you have the potential for love. There’s a marked difference.” He turned to me and dropped his second bombshell. “And as it stands, potential or not, Cora has rejected you. That’s why the other coils haven’t returned. And why she’s in danger.”
His words were a slap in the face.
She’s rejected me?
I looked at her then. She met my questioning gaze with a cautious one of her own, defensive glints in the hazel.
Shit, she’s rejected me.
It cut, the knife-like pain so sharp it kept me from analyzing why Cora’s rejection had the power to double me over.
Completely unaware of my inner turmoil, the professor tapped the spine of the notebook against his thigh and paced before his desk. “By rejecting you, she also rejects the Protection Charm, leaving herself vulnerable to the Groth Maar.”
“Vulnerable?” I didn’t like the sound of that. “What exactly do the Groth Maar want with her?”
Silence. Four long seconds. I swear, I heard the book-lined walls breathe.
Then Daniel Scholler told me what I already suspected. “They want her dead.”
My previous panic fled, replaced by a much greater dread. I glanced at Cora out of the corner of my eye. She stared straight ahead. It was hard to tell if the tension gripping her was the result of fear or anger. Or both.
“Why?” she whispered. I edged toward her along the green leather but stopped when she turned and glared at me again.
The professor walked to the bay window looking out onto his backyard, lifted a hand to pull the curtain aside, but instead peeled his glasses off his face and rubbed the bridge of his nose with a shaky index finger. “Because they want the Guardian line eradicated.”
Cora twisted, following the prof with her eyes. “So why do they want me dead? You just said yourself I’ve rejected Jonas.”
Sliding his glasses back on, Daniel Scholler turned around. “If I understand Richard’s notes correctly, once the potential for real and lasting love has been established through a kiss, it doesn’t matter if you reject Jonas right now. The potential is still there. It always will be, meaning that you’ll always be a threat to the Groth Maar, because as long as you live, Jonas has a chance at true love. You’re his only chance at true love.”
Judging by the shards of ice in Cora’s eyes as she looked at me right then, the Groth Maar had nothing to worry about. No amount of potential could turn that glacial look into love.
She rose slowly from the couch and took a step toward the window. Eyes still locked on mine, she spoke to the professor. “So…so you’re telling me my life is in danger because I refuse to become another notch—” She strode up to the desk and began leafing through the notebooks. “Please tell me there’s something in here on how to break this bloody curse!”
“There is.”
Both our heads snapped up to look at the man.
“But I don’t like your chances. In three thousand years, no one has managed to do it.”
Fan-fricking-tastic. This Book of Threads was tying us up in one bitch of a knot.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cora
A healthy adult heart beats at around eighty times per minute, give or take ten or so beats either side. Mine was about to cost me four demerit points as it sped past one hundred in an eighty zone when the professor said the words “You’re Jonas’s only chance at true love.”
I was furious.
And scared.
And furious!
Not only had Jonas’s stupidity endangered our friendship, now it endangered my life. All because he couldn’t keep his darn lips to himself.
My pulse was still erratic, but the professor’s final words went some way to calming it—if I ignored the “no one in three thousand years has managed to break the curse” part.
I snapped shut the notebook I’d been leafing through and rounded on the good professor. “How? How do we break it?”
Once more, he pulled off his glasses, but this time he pinched the bridge of his nose. “There are two ways. However, the first isn’t really an option.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because it involves Jonas giving up his life.”
The way I feel right now? It could well be an option. I glowered at the cause of all my trouble. His eyes widened when he read the violent intent in mine.
The professor continued. “The second involves Jonas tearing his page from the Book of Threads.”
Leather creaked as Jonas leaned forward on the couch. “And let me guess, the Book is hidden in some dungeonesque fortress crawling with Groth Maar demons?”
“Something like that.” The professor pushed his glasses back on his nose. “But that’s only half your problem. In order to get at the Book you’ll need to get past Elymas.”
Elymas. I liked it better when these hellhounds didn’t have names. Names gave them a layer of substance I didn’t want to be reminded of.
I rotated my injured wrist. “So who’s this Elymas?”
“The Groth Maar Lord. If what X said is correct, he’s the reason no one
has succeeded in the last three thousand years.” The professor crossed back to his desk and picked up a third, dark blue, notebook. “Elymas is ancient. Believed to have been there from the beginning, when Tamar struck her pact with the Devil himself. Elymas has power that surpasses any strength the other Groth Maar might have.”
Right then, the phone on the desk rang. Frowning at the interruption, Professor Scholler picked up the receiver. “Daniel Scholler.” There was some more frowning, interspersed by a few “yes’s” and “uh-huhs.” A moment later the professor put his hand over the mouthpiece. “I need to take this call.”
I pulled the blue notebook from the professor’s hand. “We’ll start reading.”
“Very well. It’s close to lunch. You’ll find the kitchen at the end of the hallway. Help yourselves.” Then, pressing the phone back to his ear, he walked out of the study, his voice fading as he disappeared down the hallway.
As if on cue, my stomach gurgled. I hadn’t eaten much that morning. I’d been too nervous about spending the day in close proximity to Jonas. My eyes tracked across to where he sat unmoving on the edge of the couch.
He rubbed the back of his neck, gaze wary. “You want to get some food before we get stuck into this?”
What I wanted was to punch him in that trouble-causing kisser of his. And although that would have made me feel better, it wasn’t going to solve anything, and the solution for this farcical mess needed to include him.
I sighed. “Food would be good.”
Jonas’s cotton T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders as he rummaged through the pantry. It irked me to no end that I noticed. “Peanut butter or honey?”
“Any Nutella?” Times of high stress called for a serious chocolate fix, and today definitely qualified.
“No.” Jonas turned around, his expression apologetic. He looked like he expected me to lash out at him any moment. That’s right, be wary. One wrong step, and I might still sucker punch him for his part in all this. Focusing on punishing him kept me from thinking about my name on the Groth Maar hit list. And then there was the whole uncomfortable business of potential for true love. Ugh. At least I knew I had a chance at protecting myself against the Groth Maar. My anger was my only defense against Jonas.
“Honey, then.” I was past the point of caring. Just hit me with some glucose.
Jonas kept quiet as he made the sandwiches. Every now and then he’d throw a guarded glance my way as I filled the kettle and scoured the kitchen cupboards for coffee and mugs. He had to be as confused about this “potential for love” business as I was. There was no way he’d contemplate the two of us together. That wasn’t the way he operated. And I definitely wasn’t going there. Not this side of sanity. But when we settled next to each other at the scratched pine table, the air hummed with awkward tension. We needed to talk about this.
Or maybe not.
If we broke the curse we’d never have to talk about it!
Determined, I pulled the dark blue notebook toward me. “Right, Elymas. Let’s see why this guy is so badass.”
Jonas took a bite of his peanut butter sandwich and scraped his chair a little closer so he could see. I started leafing through the pages.
“Here!” Jonas pointed to the top of the page. He read:
Elymas is the Head Groth Maar Demon. The oldest of all the Groth Maar, he is also the most powerful, boasting abilities the younger Groth Maar do not possess. All Groth Maar are exceptionally strong and physically capable. However, their strength cannot reach beyond the limitations of the human form. And though Elymas is no different, his advanced age has allowed him to develop and hone skills of psychokinesis.
“That doesn’t sound all that badass,” I said, underwhelmed. “The guy can move objects with his mind. Big deal. So could Matilda.”
Jonas washed his sandwich down with some coffee. “I get the feeling Elymas is more Stephen King than Roald Dahl.”
I hated to admit it, but I got the feeling he was right. “Professor Scholler said Elymas was there from the start. Let’s see if there’s something in here about how he ended up Groth Maar top dog.” Eyes on the journal, I ran a finger down the page, skimming the text. “Says here he was one of King David’s soldiers who fell in love with a merchant’s daughter.”
“So he’d been human once?”
“Looks that way. Which means the other Groth Maar probably had been, too.” I read on. “Shortly after Elymas married the girl, she caught the eye of—wait for it—none other than King David’s son, Amnon. When Elymas found out his wife was visiting the royal chambers, he killed her in a fit of jealous rage.” I shook my head. “Nice.”
But there was more. “Elymas couldn’t exact revenge on the King’s son. His hatred for Amnon ate at him, growing with each day. So when a sorcerer approached him with a bargain to oversee the Love’s Mortal Coil curse and ensure none of Amnon’s descendants reap the joys of love in exchange for the small price of his earthly soul, Elymas’s twisted heart was ripe for the picking.” I blew out a breath. “Talk about screwed in the head.”
Jonas’s loud snort brought my gaze up to find him sneering. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
“Aren’t you? Carving up your wife and selling your soul to the devil so you could get even with the guy who rumpled the sheets with your girl isn’t a normal reaction. That’s seriously screwed in the head.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what love does to you.” A sudden harshness pulled at Jonas’s lips, anchoring the corners close to his clenched jaw. “It screws with your head until you do something dangerously stupid.”
I jerked back, startled by the edge in his voice. “Why would you believe that?”
“Why wouldn’t you believe that? Look at your parents. Your mom dragged you halfway across the globe after your parents split.”
My mouth dropped open at the strange comparison. “That’s hardly the same as slicing up your wife and making a pact with the devil.”
Jonas sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Okay, it’s on the milder side of screwed in the head, but trust me, I’ve seen much worse. Love’s not worth the risk.”
Not worth the risk? Mom and Dad’s divorce wasn’t something I’d ever want to experience. Still, as unpleasant as it had been, they’d been happy once. The ordeal might have made me cautious, but it hadn’t soured the idea of future relationships for me.
Jonas never talked about his parents let alone their relationship. Beth, however, had spoken enough of them for me to know they’d been crazy about each other. Why would he be so jaded to think love wasn’t worth it?
“If Master Wei could hear you he’d make you drop and give him twenty. He’d be the first to tell you anything of value involves risk. Risk of failure. Risk of pain. The way I see it, you can risk love and allow it to change you for the better, or let it harden you and become bitter and vengeful”—I tapped the journal—“like our head hellhound Elymas here. The choice is yours.”
“Choices.” Jonas’s brow creased. His gaze brushed my features, studying me. “You sound like Aunt Helena.”
I shifted on my chair, his scrutiny unnerving. “What?”
“Never mind.” He raked shaky fingers through his hair. “So, superhuman strength fuelled by a vendetta against true love. Guess that counts as badass. How do we get past this freak?”
I bit into my honey bread. “Keep reading. Everyone has an Achilles’ heel.” Even a hellhound like Elymas. He had to. Otherwise we were… I wasn’t even going to think about otherwise.
We found what we were looking for on the next page.
“The Sword of Absolom,” Jonas read.
We stared at the snapshot in the notebook. In it, the bronze khopesh hung proudly above what looked like a marble fireplace, its arm-long curved blade gleaming like it had been fashioned yesterday instead of three thousand years ago.
“Says here i
t belonged to Tamar’s brother, Absolom. It’s the weapon he had Amnon killed with.” Jonas looked up from the text, found my eyes with his. “And according to this, the only thing that can end Elymas’s soulless existence.”
“It is also the only thing that Elymas can use to end Cora’s existence.” The professor’s voice came from the doorway behind us.
Jonas and I both spun around in our chairs.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
The professor walked across the kitchen and set the kettle to boil again. A low drone filled the room as he collected a cup and teabag. “Elymas wants you dead, but he can’t kill you any old way. Apparently a Loose Thread can only be cut with the Sword of Absolom. Any other way and Elymas suffers the same fate as though he’d killed a Guardian: eternal torment in hell.” He poured scalding water into his cup, dunked his teabag, then looked up at me. “Which would explain why the demon he sent for you didn’t finish you off then and there.”
Logical point. I’d fought him off, but based on available evidence, the violet-eyed demon had been strong enough to do me serious damage. I suppressed a shudder.
“What are you saying?” Jonas turned his chair sideways so he didn’t have to twist his tall frame to look at the professor. “That Elymas’s demon henchman wanted to abduct Cora so he could deliver her to his master?”
“Yes. And I’ll wager he’ll keep trying until he’s done exactly that.”
Feeling restless, I pushed away the plate with my half-eaten sandwich and stood. “So let me see if I have this straight. Until Jonas tears his page from this Book of Threads, I’m a walking Groth Maar target?”
The professor took a sip of his hot tea. “Correct. Although there is one place you’re safe from the demons.”
I sat up straighter. “Where?”
“Jonas’s home. I remember reading that the Groth Maar can’t touch you in your Guardian’s home.”
My Guardian’s home. Great, just…great. That meant we had ten days to work out how to get at the Book of Threads, because on day eleven Dad was back from Katherine. After that, both he and Helena would be asking why I was still camped out in the Leanders’ guest bedroom.