by Leigh Evans
“Do you not see your opportunity?” she demanded.
“No. I don’t!” I shouted in frustration.
“Your brother must pose no threat of resistance—thus he must be within the very moment of his death—and the melding of their cyreaths must take place before Lexi crosses the gates. Someone with a vested interest in the outcome of this day—someone from your world—needs be ready to place his near-lifeless body through the gates.”
And then, indeed, I saw beyond the moment.
With a sinking heart, I saw the portal with its hungry mouth. And my brother. And then—
“Me,” I said in a hollow voice.
“You.”
A blue myst wafted past me, indifferent to the fact that a girl stood like a statue in the middle of the small clearing.
Eventually, I lifted my gaze to study the Mystwalker of Threall. “Why would I believe that you suddenly wanted to help me? Not half an hour ago, you hurled a fireball at me and the kid.”
Mouth pursed, she considered her answer. “Upon our first meeting, my wind blew you into the embrace of our mage’s citadel.”
Hard to forget that terror.
She plucked a shred of green from the folds of her blue skirt.
“It was not by happenstance. I have been forced to do so with each mystwalker who materialized in my realm since the day I said my final good-bye to those I loved in Merenwyn.” The Mystwalker of Threall examined the filament of moss on her palm, then blew. Its flight was shallow and short. “Our mage tested their souls with the same callous indifference the King of the Court sampled sweet cakes. The stumps of those deemed not worthy of our mage’s taste befoul the very ground I must walk on.”
That’s why she prefers to fly.
Mad-one lifted her gaze to mine. “I have observed his fade—limb by dying limb—and privately rejoiced. He is not the only person who dreams of walking the Arcardian fields with the sun warm on her face. I want this to end.”
Her eyes were bleak and pained.
“I need this to end.”
* * *
It had been all so much, you know? Finding myself bound. Discovering that my best-before date had been moved way up. Grieving for a life that wasn’t going to happen, and then having an easy solution dangled in front of my desperate eyes.
If I took everything at face value, didn’t look beyond the moment, then the decision was a lot easier. With one “aye,” my job as wizard’s grunt would be over and I’d get out of a no-win situation pretty much scot-free. I’d be able to go back home. Click my heels and find myself standing in the Alpha’s bathroom, listening to the pack reorganize the house.
Arms free.
All I had to do was trust that everybody was going to do their jobs, and then nip back to do a bit of soul-tearing after the deed was done.
But there was the thing that could not be ignored: one root, two trees.
Come what may, twins forever.
And with that, a wash of rare clarity cleansed my mental eye. I saw the future like it was a long scroll that someone had just unrolled on the table. Oh Fae Stars, I could see it right to the end of its curling edge. There it lay with little flags pinned to it—one for the betrayal, two for the lies, three for the loss.
There were no words for the desolation that salted my despair.
Send Lexi into that world in my place. No free will at all. Look how well I’d tolerated it—after ten minutes my soul was screaming. But even as I tried to imagine the horror my brother would experience standing in my place, a craven part of me started wheedling. It would only be for two days, and then—
Stop it.
I wasn’t a kid anymore, cowering in the cupboard, watching my brother being hauled off to another world. I could make a choice. I could take my bat and walk to the plate.
Merciful heavens, I’m not sure I’m strong enough for what’s going to follow.
My mouth opened, and I heard myself say, “I have two terms before I agree.”
“State them.”
“You’ll have two days in Merenwyn. Not a minute more. You will accept your final fade with good grace. Before the sun rises on the third day, I will personally remove your cyreath from Lexi’s without any interference from you. You will leave not a trace of yourself inside him.”
Take another look at the scroll. See the end of it? I swallowed down my fear.
“And I have to be there,” I said. “Standing right beside my brother when he opens that book in Merenwyn.”
His hiss of exasperation fed the roiling acid in my stomach. “Why?”
“Because Lexi’s going to fight you, all the way, which will exhaust him. And because you’re going to have to hurt him—”
“I have told you—I mean no harm to your brother!”
“But you will do it because he’s just some half-bred wolf who’s gotten in your way. We don’t have much value to you.” I felt my lips curve into a bleak smile. “But we’re fighters, each and every one of us. Lexi will give you a brawl. And by the time you leave, both of you will be half mad with frustration.”
My gaze flicked downward to where the Old Mage’s cyreath glowed in my arms. Oh, for the ability to tear you apart. I watched a rivulet of red dribble down from the bite mark above my wrist, soaking the parchment of his soul’s skin.
“You know what I think, Mr. Mage? You’re the type of guy who doesn’t give much thought to the messes he leaves behind—if you could leave that Book of Spells without pissing off your Maker, you would,” I said. “And now you’re feeling hard done by, so I’m pretty sure you don’t give a shit about what happens after you’ve destroyed the Book of Spells.”
The air grew still—not a breath of motion.
“But I do,” I told him.
Silence from the old man.
“My twin won’t be left standing there alone with a WTF look on his face when the Black Mage goes postal because his recipe book has been destroyed. So here’s the final clause in the deal—you will pledge to me in front of your Maker that you will wait for me to join Lexi in Merenwyn before you attempt to destroy the book.”
“You are a stubborn creature,” he said with more than a hint of loathing.
Threall’s wind found me again. It plucked at a tendril of my hair, and mercilessly tickled the sensitive inner whorls of my ears.
“You will add that to your vow, old man. Make sure there’s no loophole in your wording, no omission of fact, no convenient misinterpretation of intent.”
“It will be difficult to reconnoiter in Merenwyn.”
“Pick a time and place,” I said in a hard voice. “And let’s be real clear. I know time passes differently in—”
“In my realm,” he sniped. “Very well. I give you my solemn word, as Mage of the Highest Court, that you will be beside your brother as we destroy the Book of Spells. I vow to wait for you at Daniel’s Rock before we proceed to the castle.”
“I don’t know where that is.”
“You will,” he said cryptically. “After you have sent your brother through the gates, wait one full day, then cross as the sun sets. We will meet at Daniel’s Rock.” His gaze raked over me. “My world is hard on one such as you. The weak and the soft die. Are you sure you wish to proceed with this childish desire to save your brother’s life? He has chosen his path. The history he leaves in his wake is of his making.”
“Don’t talk to me about choices, mage. Vow that you will wait. Pledge that to me, word for word.”
Anger twisted his face.
I listened carefully as he gave his oath to his Maker, and then I swiveled to face Mad-one. “What do you want from this?
She looked surprised, then she inclined her head. “If only for one day, I want to know that I am living in my true body and that which I touch is truly there beneath my fingers.”
“I’m not sure I can show you how to find your way back to Merenwyn. I’m not even sure I can return home.”
Her gaze was steady and piercing. “And yet I
believe you can.”
“Don’t confuse me for a hero, Tyrean.”
“Nor I, Hedi of Creemore.”
“Will Lexi die when I tear the Old Mage’s cyreath from his?”
Mad-one lifted a shoulder. “That depends on your brother’s will to live.”
I looked away and watched the wizard walk back and forth beneath the citadel of my soul. Rage and frustration had stripped away his pretense of being a kindly old grandfather. His eyes were slits, the wrinkles fanning outward in sharp emphasis.
A current of air, sweet scented as honeysuckle, swirled around my waist.
“What changed your mind?” I found myself asking her. “You weren’t going to help me at first.”
She tossed her head as the same zephyr of air teased her hair. “You said that you distrusted him. It was the first thing you’ve said of significance in my hearing. It suggests that you might not be the knave that you appear—and it was the statement that changed the course of both our lives.” Mad-one tilted her head. “Do not make me regret my choice. It would be wise to remember that I know the location of your citadel. I can touch it, and speak to you whenever I wish. With whatever voice I choose.”
Then the Mystwalker of Threall drew in a long breath. “Now, pass me our mage’s cyreath.”
Once I had, she walked past the old wizard’s illusion, head high. With a faint smile that had a definite gloating edge, she lowered herself to his chair. “I will keep my eyes trained on your brother’s cyreath. When his light begins to dim, I shall touch his tree and yours. Thus I will know when to meld our mage’s soul to your brother’s.”
She will know Lexi in ways I never will.
Me, too.
“There is no other way,” she said quietly.
She was right.
So, I closed my eyes to the portal, to the blue myst, to the swaying trees, to the girl who looked young but felt old. To all of it. Every sickening bit of it.
Think of home. All you have to do is want it. Imagine Creemore. The pond, the gentle hills. The home where my brother lies dying. The room where my mate stands waiting. Think of Cordelia in the kitchen, humming to her Bobby McGee. Imagine Harry knocking on the door, a sheaf of papers in his hands. Shake your head at Biggs, always a day late and a dollar short.
Sound began to fade.
I wavered between this world and the other.
Home.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Returning home came with a hurting pain right in my solar plexus. Again a fist thumped my chest, just about where my heart was. Then a hard male mouth covered mine. I caught the sweet aromas of woods, and spice, and yum. Trowbridge. Two puffs of air were forced into my mouth, filling lungs that I hadn’t realized were empty.
“Come on!” My mate gave me a good head-flopping shake. “Why did you do it? I told you never to go there,” he shouted right in my sensitive half-breed ear. His voice was thick with grief. “You come back to me, you understand? You come back to me.”
Home.
“Just hold me,” I mumbled into his neck. “Don’t let go.”
He went rigid. “Hedi?”
There went my sense of gravity. Suddenly, the nice warm chest was gone and I was being supported by a hard arm. Fierce blue eyes examined me. “You came back.” Trowbridge breathed. A vein throbbed at his temple.
“I really hope so,” I said.
Was that my voice? That wobbly little voice?
A shaking hand cupped my face. “Don’t you ever frighten me like that again,” he said in a low, kind of menacing voice. “You promise me that you’ll never do that again.” Then, to my astonishment—okay, you add up the number of days we’d spent together and tell me if I should have been prepared—my mate sank back on his heels and rocked me in his arms like I was the most precious thing he’d ever held.
Back and forth. Holding me tight, as if I might fly away.
I didn’t deserve it but I sure melted into it.
The only thing that could have improved his passionate outpouring of affection was an “I love you.” Just once before everything went to crap, I’d have liked to hear those three words one more time. But still, what he didn’t say, I could smell in his scent. Relief, frustration—and here’s a new one in connection with me—absolute joy, mixed with … what was that?
This was true love?
Trowbridge, you don’t know the half of what’s coming your way.
I turned my head and let my gaze roam the ring of faces. Cordelia stood closest, trying to look unmoved and falling well short. Biggs stood near the edge of the bed, chewing on his lower lip, hands deep in his pockets. Harry leaned against the door frame, one of his rare smiles creasing his age lines into deep seams.
Bad things will seep into this world.
Fae shit.
“Take me to the window,” I told Trowbridge, knowing that my legs wouldn’t hold me.
My mate didn’t ask why; he simply gathered me up and brought me to it. Took him one breath and six long strides. He’s a strong man, the Alpha of Creemore. I gazed out at the scene, my cheek resting on his muscled chest, my blistered paw curled loosely around Merry. Five cars parked along the long driveway. Freshly mown grass. Sweet. Fresh. Earthly. My mate’s heart beat like an athlete’s beneath my ear. Thump, thump. Beyond the cultivated edge of the property, where the wild began, pine trees swayed. Not a soul ball in them.
Home.
“That was quite a scare you gave us, Little Miss,” observed Harry, dragging the easy chair over to the window.
Trowbridge sat down on the arm of it, me still a burden in his arms.
How much heavier am I than a soul ball?
“Well, I for one am getting heartily tired of these theatrics,” snapped Cordelia. “I don’t know anyone else who can hold their breath as long as you can. You have got to stop doing that.”
Don’t let go of me.
“Shh, Cordelia,” Trowbridge murmured, smoothing my hair.
I’m going to miss this, I thought, letting him pet me. Don’t forget this—this perfect little slice of time. When you’re being held safe and sound, and people who care about you are flocked all around. Tucking your hair behind your ear. Clucking to hide their worry.
It wouldn’t last. Karma had engineered it so that I had to push someone I loved through those same damn gates, which was going to require me lying like there’s no tomorrow. And I knew what was going to follow that—I’d lose the family I didn’t even know I had until this moment.
My forearm ached from the devil’s spawn’s bite.
It was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? I needed to minimize their culpability in the eyes of the pack. Which meant that I was going to have to spin a fib for Trowbridge—for his own good—because I couldn’t put him in the position of agreeing to release Lexi. My brother had stolen from the Alpha of Creemore. In front of witnesses. Urban gangs had nothing on Weres when it came to the subject of disrespect.
I’d have to lie to him.
And then I’d lose him.
Forever, this time.
Payback pain was beginning to make itself known. Which fell into the good-news category, right? Throbbing mitts meant the essence of my Fae wasn’t floating in Threall looking for a new home—she’d come back to Creemore with me. Where was my Were? I probed and found her back in her usual spot, giving me the stink eye.
So the troops were all together again.
One problem down. Ninety-nine to go.
I’d have to lie to him.
Concentrate on the other stuff.
How was I going to detach the people I cared about from whatever finger-pointing would inevitably follow? Think. I’d have to trick Harry into giving me the key to the room in which my brother was caged. I’d have to send Cordelia off on some trumped-up mission so that no one could later turn the blame on her. I’d have to send Biggs on a ferret hunt, just so that he looked innocent.
Nausea climbed up my throat.
“You went to Threall, didn�
�t you?” Trowbridge asked.
I ached to tell him the truth. All about it. The fire, the tree, the Old Mage—even the bit where I fucked up with the Black Mage.
“You made a decision without me again,” he said. “You have to stop doing that.”
Well, that would be one way to go.
“I need to know what happened up there,” he asked.
What happened is that Karma wants a do-over, I thought, staring at the trees. She was forcing me to reenact the same scene—the portal, the lie, the push across the threshold. Why? Had I missed some important lesson the first time around?
I’m no hero. Neither is Lexi.
“She used magic,” said Cordelia. “Her hand’s a mess.”
Trowbridge pressed a hard kiss on my temple.
I don’t want to lose kisses.
It’s not like I hadn’t learned things in the last six months. I’d figured out that there were times to run and times to stand. Very recently—okay, yesterday—I’d come to appreciate the fact that being an ostrich was only good when the tide was out, the weather was balmy, and the sand had not a single flea. Burying your head in the golden sand? It’s just not practical.
Sooner or later, the tide of life will find you.
Fact is, no matter how hard you try to avoid making decisions (even if guilt and self-doubt are truly messing with your head), the sad reality is no one can get away in life without choosing between one thing and another. Even opting to ignore the existence of the choice was a choice. Living (and almost dying) among the pack had taught me that.
Threall had shown me the reverse side of the coin. Forget free will. Nobody really has it. Some things are just dumped on you by other people, courtesy of your connection to them, and you don’t have the luxury of mulling over your choices. You end up opting for the best compromise and hoping it will be good enough.
The trick is learning to live with the result.
“Christ,” hissed Trowbridge. “What bit you?”
I looked down at my arm. The devil’s spawn’s teeth marks were an oval of bruised purple on my pale skin. Blood welled from the imprint of each tooth, tiny beads, like black rubies on a pretender’s crown. You’re going to leave a scar, aren’t you, kid? You didn’t have to. I’ll remember you always.