A Matter of Truth (Fate Series 3)

by Heather Lyons

  I bandage it up immediately. But the attack served its purpose—our triangle has widened.

  A shriek comes from my right—Will’s blade made contact. I scramble over to where he’s got the Elder pinned to the ground. “Do it!” he yells. The Elder thrashes against the sword, ready to rip its body right off.

  One of its knife-hands slashes me as I approach. My breath sucks in at the pain, but I’ve got to get close.

  “DO IT!”

  Two sonic booms go off behind us, rattling me down on my hands in the dirt. But it’s enough of a jolt to get me close enough. I stretch out my fingers and make contact, even as it slashes frantically at both Will and me.

  It feels cold and hot at the same time. Like . . . cotton balls with splinters. It’s a disgusting sensation. I want to jerk my hand back, but Will yells once more, as another sonic boom sounds, “FUCKING KILL THE THING, WILL YOU?”

  When I will it out of existence, I collapse, my chin hitting dirt. Will immediately yanks his sword out of the ground and hauls me up. “Karl’s got one down. Go!”

  His blade swings out in an arc at an approaching Elder. Boom. It’s hard to stay on my feet, but I dart over to where an Elder lies, unconscious. And . . . I spoke too soon, because its pseudo-eyes open the moment my hand touches its chest.

  I go flying through the air, landing right on my quiver, sending a sharp spike of pain straight up behind my eyelids. Holy effing hell.

  BOOM.

  “Chloe!” Karl yells. His swinging fist makes no contact this time. He’s bleeding heavily, his dominant arm slashed to ribbons. “They’re adapting! Eight seconds!”

  I scramble over to where the Elder who just fell is, trying desperately to ignore that lightning pain threatening to consume me. For insurance’s sake, I ram an arrow straight through its chest, pinning it to the ground just as surely as Will’s sword can. It’s surprisingly difficult, considering I can see the floor through its body. It comes to, but—for the first time, even with the stars dancing in my eyes, I see something other than hate reflected back to me.

  I see fear.

  Good. It fights desperately, driving one of its dagger-like hands right into my shoulder and the other into my upper thigh. The pain is so intense I nearly black out, but then I remember that there is a bunch of people out there counting on me to get this job done. Plus, there’s Jonah—I need to get back to Jonah and apologize and let him know how much I love and need him. So I gather everything in me and pray it’s enough before willing this monstrosity out of existence. Within a split second, its body disappears; I collapse once more into the dirt. My chin hits the ground hard, making my already spinning head whirl even faster.

  Piercing howls fills the warehouse and then, the next thing I know, Karl, Will and I are left alone in stunned silence.

  We’re all bleeding. We’re filthy. But more importantly, we’re all alive while two of the Elders aren’t.

  Karl’s arm dangles uselessly next to his side. Will’s having a tough time standing, which makes sense as both legs are cut up pretty bad. As for me, I’m still in the dirt with no doubt huge holes in my shoulder and leg.

  “Open the office door, Chloe,” Karl grunts. He wipes his good arm across his forehead, streaking dirt through blood and sweat. I’ve never seen him more exhausted.

  I give up trying to stand up and simply lay my cheek in the dirt. Dammit, I forgot to make us some Elder-proof clothing ahead of time again. It takes a few seconds, but I manage to focus long enough to open the door. Cameron and Erik bolt out like they’d been leaning against the wood just waiting for the moment they could be freed.

  “Lee.” Karl’s voice is hoarse as he addresses the Tracker, now sauntering out of the office, picking at his teeth with the corner of a magazine. “Follow those bastards and report back to me in an hour. We need to know if they’re still in the area.”

  As Erik drops down next to me, a medical bag in one hand, the cooler full of blood in the other, I watch Lee Acacia drop both the magazine and the jaded act and sprint out of the warehouse. He moves so fast he’s nearly a blur. Is that how Trackers work? That they’re faster than normal people?

  “Cameron?” Erik touches the arm that got the worst of it from the Elders; pain lances through me like lightning. I jolt, but it only intensifies my agony. “We need to get her out of the dirt. Too much risk of infection with these—Jesus. There’s a hole in her shoulder about three and a half inches wide.”

  Ha. Hahaha. I’ve been saying for months, even if just to myself, that there’s a hole in me. Now there really is.

  “Christ. There’s—it got her leg, too.”

  Karl murmurs an answer, his voice soaked with weary concern, but something stabs my butt. Pathetically, I don’t have the energy to cry out, so I—

  There are no more Elders in Anchorage, at least for the time being. Lee was able to track them as far as Vancouver, but as they seemed to be consistently heading south, Karl felt the Métis were safe enough to come out of hiding.

  Which means I need to get out of town as soon as possible so the Elders don’t have a reason to come back. Technically, it’s an easy enough decision. I’d already planned on going back to Annar to begin the long road toward atonement. But now that it’s a stark reality, I’m a bundle of confused, jittery nerves. Cameron insists that all of this is due to Human medications Erik has me on, but I’m thinking it’s more likely because taking responsibility for a whole slew of mistakes can make a person nauseated.

  Karl’s phone goes off for what must be the thirtieth time in less than twenty-four hours. When we finally got home last night, he was too exhausted to answer any calls—even Moira’s. All communication was done via text, including an admission to his wife that he’d found me and was with me at that very moment—although, first thing this morning, he called her right away to elaborate. But now that we’ve had nearly a day’s worth of rest (albeit mostly under the influence of Erik’s drugs), I’m informed when the phone goes silent, “I need to tell him, Chloe. It’s time.”

  He’s talking about Zthane Nightstorm, his best friend and apparently the only other person in the Guard more senior than he. That surprise was dropped on me just a few minutes ago, when he admitted he was second in command.

  I certainly don’t want Zthane to lose his job—or Karl. “Okay,” I tell my friend. Nell comes over and jumps on the couch to sit next to me. I love how she instinctively knows when I need some good old-fashioned support.

  Karl dials Zthane with his good hand and then puts it on speaker. He and I are alone in the living room; everybody else is going through the motions necessary for moving. Cameron’s gone down to turn in his resignation at the warehouse; Will’s in his bedroom packing. I stroke Nell’s satiny head when Zthane growls, “You better have a damn good reason why you haven’t checked in with me in nearly a day, Graystone.”

  Ugh, not a good sign. I’ve never heard Zthane call Karl by his surname before.

  Karl leans forward, wincing as his wounded arm, cradled in a sling, jostles against his leg. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  Nell licks my hand and looks up at me, her dark eyes shiny with unconditional love and acceptance. I take this small bit of encouragement and cut Karl off as he’s about to speak. “Hi, Zthane.”

  Something sounds on the other end, like a chair falling over. “Chloe? Is that you?”

  Karl gives me a small, reassuring nod to continue. “Yeah.” I clear my throat. “It’s me. We’re—Karl’s here with me in Alaska.”

  A small, protracted silence precedes, “Pardon my language, but thank the effing gods. Karl, is she okay?”

  I love how Zthane thinks that he’s swearing.

  Karl bites his lip as he surveys me. According to Erik, the sooner I see a Shaman, the better. The same goes for him. We’re in pretty bad shape. But Karl knows as well as I that that isn’t the best thing to start out with. “We’ll be heading back to Annar within the next thirty-six hours.”

  “I can have a te
am sent out—”

  But Karl insists that a team isn’t necessary since we’ll be on our way shortly. I get the feeling Zthane is grossly unhappy with this, but after I swear to him that I’ll be back in Annar with Karl as soon as possible, he relents. And then he asks Karl to take him off the speakerphone.

  It doesn’t take a genius to know that Karl’s getting his ass chewed out big time. Yet another thing for me to feel crummy about.

  Minutes later, when he hangs up, I realize he didn’t tell Zthane about the Métis or what went down with the Elders. When I question him why, he says tiredly, “Some things are better discussed face-to-face.”

  His point is not lost on me.

  Saying goodbye sucks. It flat-out, unequivocally sucks.

  Despite my reservations (and fears, if I’m being honest with myself), I insist on saying goodbye to the Moose and its inhabitants in person. I’d insisted on walking on my own two feet despite Erik wanting to push me in a wheelchair. So Will and I, we were like the walking wounded hobbling through the front door, and when the bell above it jingled, tears sprang to my eyes.

  The Moose was a haven to me. It was safety when I had nowhere else to go and needed a place to lick my wounds and grow up some. And now, as I glance around the cheesy décor, I worry that I might have taken it for granted like so many other things in my life. I can’t help but wonder if I’ll get to come back here, if I’ll ever get to go bowling with these people again. If there’ll be moments when I roll my eyes at Frieda’s snark, encourage Ginny to follow her dreams, or feel one of Paul’s nourishing hugs again.

  Gods, I hope so.

  Paul took the news of our leaving—well, not exactly well, but I guess better than we expected. I let Will do the bulk of the talking, because it just hurt. Every time I went to open my mouth, something inside me quivered and strained and I feared just flat-out ugly bawling, so I stayed silent, nodding at appropriate times. When it was all done and said, Paul mentioned he was disappointed and would miss us, but ultimately, he understood. Then he stupidly offered us severance pay, like he laid us off rather than us up and quitting on him with little-to-no notice.

  In other news, Frieda raged. Ginny cried softly.

  And now, the girls are here with me, hugging Will and me like we’re porcelain dolls, thanks to our injuries, and they’re not acting like themselves. They’re holding back, and I get it, but part of me resents it, too. These girls helped me in ways they’ll never know. Their honesty was one of the things I valued the most.

  But I can’t hold this against them. Because, when Paul asks Will, “You’ll call us when you get there?” he’s referring to how we’ve told him we’re moving to Glasgow so Cameron can be close to a sick relative. And that stings, because while I value their honesty, I’ve never reciprocated in kind—not even here in the end.

  “Yeah, yeah, of course,” Will says. He’s moving slowly today; Erik says he’s got three broken ribs for sure. The sooner he can see a Shaman, the better I’ll feel.

  “Told you they’re shacking up.” Frieda knocks her shoulder into Ginny’s. She’s a strong girl—she’ll never let me see her tears. But I know she’s upset we’re leaving.

  I’ll miss her. Miss them all.

  I just give them a small, sad smile in response. There is more gentle hugging, more promises made to keep the ties we’ve created between all of us meaningful even though distance will spread us apart. And then we walk out of the Moose and into Lee Acacia’s nondescript rental waiting at the curb.

  “Everything taken care of?” Karl asks. He insisted on coming with us, despite needing to rest, giving some bullshit excuse about needing to talk with Lee about a mission. I’m positive the real reason was that he doesn’t trust me anymore. He wanted to make sure I didn’t run again.

  I don’t blame him.

  I lean my head against Will’s good shoulder and stare out of the window as Lee pulls away from the curb. Anchorage is beautiful. It was home, if even for a tiny moment. “Yeah,” I tell him.

  I’m holding onto Nell’s leash as Erik pushes me across the tarmac in a wheelchair. He got his way, saying there was no good enough reason on this green earth for me to walk to a plane when I can be pushed. Will and Cameron are already on the small bush plane Erik owns; he’s flying us to Juneau and then coming into Annar for the first time in nearly fifteen years, thanks to Karl’s suggestion that it might be helpful to have a Métis with us when we discuss the situation with the Council. At first, Erik and a number of other Métis were reluctant, saying they’d worked hard for years to distance themselves from Annar. But I think they also understand that we’re all interconnected—and that people stand more firmly on the ground when they have others to stand with them.

  It’s a lesson I’m learning myself.

  Erik rationalized his addition to our little party by claiming he needed to stick with us, at least until we got to the hospital in Annar, to oversee our injuries. I think he’s nervous, though. He left Annar much in the same way so many Métis do—in anger while filled with justifiable hurt. His mother, a prominent Elvin Shaman who’d had an affair with an army doctor she’d met on the Human plane during the Vietnam War, refused to leave Annar and her work. Despite her obvious distaste for him and what he represented, Erik had stuck it out for years, shuttled back and forth between his parents (who, according to what he’d told us last night, still refuse to speak to one another; worse yet, his father doesn’t even know his mother is a Magical and believes she lives in Europe). But when he realized his mother basically saw him as merely an obligation rather than her son, he left and didn’t look back until today. He moved in with his dad, thought about attending medical school, but eventually chose to pursue being a nurse practitioner because he knew it’d piss his mother off.

  And now we’re asking him to go back to Annar, possibly face his mother (who would probably be swell friends with my own mom, what with the stories I heard of her yesterday) and all the memories of people and places that tried to make him feel less than he was. I didn’t say it to him, because I don’t think Erik is the sort to be reassured by words, but I made a mental promise to him that I was going to do everything in my power to end the struggle Métis face in our community.

  Because I’m going to do this Creator thing my way. I’m going to own it. I’m not going to sit back and be a passive participant in the Council who waits for her marching orders. It’s the only way I can survive it all.

  I glance at the snow-covered mountain range in the distance, and their majestic beauty strikes me. I make myself another promise. I’ll be back.

  And then we go up the ramp, Nell’s nails clicking on the non-skid strips next to me. “You okay?” Erik asks quietly. Him talking to me directly is so rare I jerk in the chair.

  But his eyes are kind and filled with concern. If anyone knows what it’s like to fight for what you want for your life, it’s him. So I don’t resent his question, which everyone and their brother keeps asking me lately. “Yeah,” I tell him.

  Because I think I finally, truly am.

  When the first flash goes off, I dismiss it as nothing. When the subsequent dozen nearly blind me, I realize there’s a problem as I gingerly step out of Transit Station and onto the streets of Annar for the first time in over half a year. There’s what seems to be a handful of photographers shouting at me, questions about where I’ve been and who the people I’m with are, as well as a rapidly growing crowd of rubberneckers that form a living wall difficult to breech.

  It’s like a nightmare come to life. How did they know I’d be here?

  Karl yells at everyone to back up, but as he’s suffering from a few bruised (and possibly broken) ribs, his voice doesn’t boom like it normally does. Will loops his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in closer, one of his arms coming up to block my face from all of the critical eyes around us. Erik hovers behind us, hands pressed against our backs like he’s trying to keep us upright in this madness. From behind us, I can hear Nell barking her wa
rnings, and Cameron’s stern voice trying to keep her from attacking anyone who comes too close to us.

  Chloe, the people around us yell, Councilwoman Lilywhite, is that you, you look so different, where were you, what happened, did the Elders get you like we all feared? Who are these people? Why are you blonde? Who is the guy? Why is his arm around you? What happened to you? Why do you look like you’ve fallen off a ten-story building and barely made it out alive?

  Chloe, they keep asking, why won’t you answer us?

  But the truth is, I don’t think I could get the words out right now if I even tried. Pain twists and blooms through every breath, every step, making any chance at grabbing my breath damn near impossible. These people, they’re reaching out, trying to touch me, but their touches are needles against my injuries.

  More shouts circle us; only these aren’t from the crowd, now edging into the hundreds. I spot Giuliana Arancionestella, a friend from the Guard who protected Jonah and Kellan several years ago against the Elders, pushing her way through the crowd while ordering people to back away. And then I see Kiah Redrock, Kopano Melesi-Yellowbird, and Iolani Popolohua doing the same. Somebody’s called in the cavalry.

  “Get us the hell out of here,” Erik snarls at Karl. “If any of these people were to smash hard into the three of you . . .” He doesn’t have to finish, though. We already know what hell we’d suffer through, since it’s already started to happen.

  I’ve been bumped into at least a dozen times already, and each jostle makes my already shallow breath harder to find. The effects of my pain pills are coming to a close, making each uneven step one I’d rather not take. The agony in my thigh threatens to completely overtake me. As curling into a ball and crying until I pass out on the street below us isn’t an option, I push myself forward, alongside Will and Karl who are in similar boats as I am.