“And Elora?” Luce stared at him as he took his time answering.
“She’s gone.”
“What happened after Anchorage?”
Mason ran a hand over his mouth and sunk deeper into the hard chair.
“We hid out in Petersville. The place is a ghost town, but we managed to scavenge some supplies. Then a few days ago there was a break in the weather. We found someone who knew the location of the door to the Underworld.”
“Someone?”
“Someone.” Mason wasn’t about to reveal the Juki’s identity. The Council wouldn’t let just anyone live with the knowledge not only of where the door was but also the ability to get there.
“So you really went down there?” she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.
“I did.”
She waited for details, but he refused to talk about what he saw down there. The demon’s ability to manipulate him would weaken him in the eyes of a fellow Tank guard. That he brought Niobe out with him would have ensured his trial and execution.
“Is that when Elora died?”
“No. We made it to the island, then she sent me back with the Soul Rune.”
Luce snorted. “So she might not be dead.”
“Dozens of ravagers surrounded the island. She sent me through just before they converged. There was no way she’d have survived.” The words left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he had difficulty swallowing as he pictured what the monsters would have done to her. He craned his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest. “Where’s the Dealer?”
“I assume when you were in Anchorage, you saw the breach? The containment took days, and the Council pulled some the guards from along the coast to help. Nick was already there and with you gone, we were short staffed. Gregory ended up going down to assist.”
She didn’t need to do any further explanation. That she’d called him Gregory was enough to know that the older man was dead. He didn’t need to know how or why. From the way Luce looked at him, he could tell she was searching his face for some type of reaction.
“So what’s next?” he asked. “Am I still set to stand before the Council?”
“No. I’ll send a pardon request, though the Council is taking its time lately. You may want to stick close to the village until the paperwork comes through.” Luce rose from her seat and pulled back the thick curtains hanging over the window. “I expect you at your post for first shift.”
“Yes, Dealer.” Mason stood and went to the door.
“Mason,” she called. He turned back, and she gingerly pushed the Soul Rune in his direction. “Don’t forget this.”
He grunted and scooped up the stone. As he walked to his cabin, he looked out at the water. He left Elora alone to die. It didn’t matter that she’d sent him through the portal. He should have anticipated her move. His duty was to protect others, not be protected by them. But there was nothing he could do now. It was too late.
The inside of his cabin was unchanged. He hung his parka on the hook by the door then stripped off his clothes and took a long hot shower. The pounding water massaged his shoulder muscles, and he wondered when they’d become so tense.
After drying off and putting on clean clothes, he headed over to the pub and grabbed a bite to eat. There were curious stares, though only Norm was brave enough to question where he’d been and what happened to Elora. The way the man’s eyes watered when he said she was dead left Mason shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
That night as he lay in bed, he tossed and turned. He’d grown used to the presence of Elora’s body pressed to his as the darkness consumed his mind each night. Yet, it had only been a few months with her—it wouldn’t take long for him to forget.
In the days that followed, he settled back into his routine. Each morning he showered, ate, then assumed his post. Luce’s new role as Dealer meant they were short on guards, so he took extra shifts. After his post, he’d head to the pub for food then back to his cabin to sleep.
Weeks became months, and spring then summer kept the cold of the North at bay. Still, Mason waited for the night when he didn’t lie awake in bed, his body aching for a release that only Elora could have given.
Mason stood at his post, his eyes scanning the barrier for ravagers, his bolt at his side. Then his gaze drifted out to where the island sat. From his high post, if he used binoculars, he would see the arch of the island on the horizon. His memories of Elora, of their days in Petersville, flooded his mind. He put his hand in his pocket, and gripped the Soul Rune, rolling it between his fingers. The stone warmed, and for the millionth time since he returned to Ironshore, he debated what to do with it.
“Mason!” Nick called out, and he glanced down to see the other man at the foot of his post. “Dealer wants you in the Station House.”
Nick walked waited for him to climb down before scaling the ladder to cover Mason’s post. There’d been a time when Mason had called Nick a friend. They’d eat and drink together, and he’d listen to the wild stories Nick told about his escapades before and after joining the Tank. But the incident in Anchorage had changed that. Nick was weary of him, and Mason couldn’t fault him. As far as Nick was concerned, Mason defied Dealer orders, abetted a fugitive, and then escaped custody while failing to engage ravagers during a breach of the barrier.
Shaking his head, Mason went to the Station House and found Luce in the Dealer’s office. She looked good behind the desk. She’d always had a strong personality and a desire to lead the guard. His father had wanted to that position for him, but unlike Mason who was a guard because it’s all he knew, Luce was a guard because she loved the job.
“Sit.” She pointed to the empty chair. When he’d followed her order, she stood and towered over him. “What the fuck is going on with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I’m talking about. Every day, you stand up there on that post and stare out at the island.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Have you released your soul?”
“No,” he said.
“Why not?”
He tentatively touched the stone. His thoughts wondered as they did every time he touched the rune. They became a mesh of memories and possibilities, and like every time he lost control of his thoughts, a suffocating weight fell onto his chest.
“Mason! Why the fuck not?”
“I don’t know how,” he answered, slipping his hand from his pocket.
“Bullshit,” she said. “You know damn well that Tina could tell you how. So what’s stopping you?”
“I’m a Tank guard. My job is to hold the barrier, protect the village. Having my soul back compromises my judgment.”
She shook her head and stared down at him. “That’s the biggest pile of shit I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s a fact.”
“It’s you regurgitating your father’s words. If I believed any of that, I never would have given you the order to go with Elora.” Her eyes narrowed in thought. “I think you're scared.”
“I don’t feel fear.”
“Maybe you don’t feel fear now, but with a soul, you would. Along with anger, happiness, pain. And the memory of those emotions is what’s keeping you from reclaiming it.” She sighed as she sank into her chair. “I resented Elora for what happened on the ice bridge, and the destruction we faced afterward from the ravagers. I hated what she turned you into. But when she said she was going to get your soul back, I realized that she wasn’t entirely to blame.”
“Elora didn’t take my soul. Niobe did,” he pointed out.
“And once the witch was dead, you knew there was a chance to get it back, but you didn’t. Elora spent six years on that island so that you could live, then she died giving back to you what you lost. She deserves more from you than your soulless eyes staring at the water.” Placing her hands on the edge of the desk, she leaned forward. “Now get the fuck out of my office and decide if you're man enough to face what life has thrown at you or if you're going
to be a pussy and stand on that post for the rest of your days.”
Mason left and walked back toward his post. He wasn’t surprised that Luce had finally called him out on his behavior. To be honest, he’d known he was doing a shitty job on post and that it had to do with the rune. He realized that the rune and his memories were distracting him, messing with his head, and every day he found it harder to push them away as if they slowing took a deeper grip on him. But if he took his soul back, he’d face every emotion that those memories held.
Realizing he’d walked past the path to the beach, he glanced around and found himself at the edge of the village with only one street left. Tina’s street.
With purposeful strides, he marched toward her house. He didn’t need to reclaim his soul, but he could ask her how to do it. When he reached her door, he pounded on it with his fist. It flew open, and a worried Tina stared at him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked breathlessly.
He frowned. “Nothing.”
“Well, why the banging then?”
“I needed to speak with you.”
“A little late, don’t you think? You’ve avoided me for the past four months, and in a village this small, that’s quite a feat.” She moved aside and motioned him to enter.
Her place looked similar to most of the other houses in the village, though she seemed to have a wider array of decorative pieces that spoke of her travels. A corner table caught Mason’s eye, and he saw a collection of framed photographs. He wandered over and picked one up. It was an old photo of Elora, taken before she crossed the ice bridge.
“I’d offer it to you if I thought you cared,” Tina said, then snatched the picture from his hand. “Why are you here?”
He removed the Soul Rune from his pocket and held it in the middle of his open palm for her to see. She glanced at is dismissively and went to the kitchen table where she sat and sipped at her mug of hot tea.
“What do you want, Mason?”
“If I wanted to reclaim my soul, how would I do it?”
“If you wanted to? If? My niece died getting your soul for you, and you say if.” Tears welled in her eyes, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I suppose I should have expected that.”
“I did love her,” he said.
“Once. You loved her once upon a time.”
He wanted to deny her implication that he’d stopped loving Elora, but he couldn’t. Having no soul hadn’t killed his love for her, it had simply wiped it from him. Yet, even with no soul, there’d been something within him that held on to her. It’s what had driven his irrational decisions from the moment he opened the barrier to her as she ran across the melting bridge to journeying with her to the Underworld.
The light in the rune glowed brighter, heating up his palm, and he quickly dropped it to the table. Tina froze with her mug halfway to her mouth before slowly lowering it to the table. She reached out and poked at the rune, then threw back her head and laughed.
“What’s funny?” he asked.
“You come here asking how to release your soul if you wanted it, but you know how. You’ve already started answering it’s call.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You carry the rune with you, feel as if you need to constantly touch it and soak in the warmth of it in your hand. Don’t you?”
He nodded, and she nudged the stone toward him.
“To take your soul back, all you need to do is hold the rune and let it flow back into you.” She gave him a half smile. “I would guess that you’ve already taken bits of it back. It’s what makes you question whether you want to or not. A completely soulless man would know his mind. There’d be no debating.”
He wasn’t debating, he was ... He grabbed the stone and stomped from her home. He made his way to the beach and stood on the rocky shore, gazing at the rune in his hand. He could end all debating now. He could toss the stone into the water, and it would become just another rock in a sea full of them. His soul shone nearly white in its brilliance, and he felt the heat it radiated.
Or he could reclaim it.
He closed his fist around the stone and with a last look at the water, made his decision.
A fiery heat tore up his arm and spiraled within his chest. He fell to his knees and threw back his head and arms. The radiant light of the stone coursed through him, and he squeezed his eyes shut. The light abruptly shut off and he collapsed forward to his hands and a roar of agony tore free as he relived every moment of the past seven years, experiencing the emotions tied to them.
He’d unleashed his soul, and with it, he destroyed any peace he had. Despair cut off his roar as he struggled to accept everything he’d lost. He got to his feet and looked at the spot where the island hid behind the horizon.
Think of home.
Those had been her last words to him. It’s what she’d wanted for him. A home. Something that had been unattainable without a soul. Yet, when he’d thought of it at the moment she sent him into the interdimension, he’d thought of Ironshore. How wrong he’d been. He knew where home was. With her.
21
When Elora exited the interdimension, she hadn’t been surprised to find herself in Petersville. She’d thought of home, and that’s what this house had become for her. The weeks she spent there with Mason had shown her how little Ironshore held for her. This is where she realized that even if Mason never regained his soul, she could live a happy life. It might not be the one she dreamed of, but she could be happy.
Surviving on her own had been both harder and easier than she’d anticipated. Mason had made hunting look so easy, set a trap, then go back a few hours later and find a dead animal. She hadn’t expected to have to wait days for anything and then have to kill the poor bunnies and minx she managed to trap. Dressing the carcasses was more horrifying. She’d never vomited more in her life than the first time she skinned a rabbit.
What Elora feared was the solitude, and that in the sustained silence, memories of the island would sneak up on her. She still had nightmares about Niobe, but exhaustion from working all day kept those thoughts from drift in when she was awake. A music box she found in an abandoned house helped distract her anytime her thoughts did turn dark.
It had been at its worst in the beginning. She’d been filled with doubts about staying. Her mind kept telling her that Mason was probably in Ironshore and even if he reclaimed his soul, he’d have no reason to think she wasn’t dead, no reason to come to a tiny ghost town in the middle of the wilderness. Yet, her heart rebelled. If Mason had taken his soul back, he’d remember their time in Petersville. And if he still loved her, part of him would know this is where she’d be.
For a while, she’d given in and tested him with a calling spell. It was a simple call and response spell that let her send a vibrational message to his soul and that if free, his soul could mimic in response. She never got a response, and after a few months, she gave up.
She finished butchering the rabbit and arranged the pieces on the pan before placing it in the oven. Humming along with the song coming from the music box, she pulled a package of vegetables from the cupboard, put it to the side for later, and began cleaning up the mess she’d made.
The smell of roasting meat wafted through the small house, and Elora’s mouth watered. It took nearly a week to catch the stupid rabbit and nearly the whole day to work up the stomach to butcher the poor thing. Someone watching her would think it was the first rabbit she’d caught and skinned a rabbit, but it wasn’t. After five months on her own, she thought she’d done pretty well, though she was far from an expert.
Over the music, she heard the rumbling of a vehicle as it pulled up outside. She ran to the bedroom and grabbed the bolt, then took up a position in the main room with the bolt pointed directly at the door, ready to face whoever walked through it.
The door opened with a loud squeak, and Mason walked in. She lowered the bolt, as surprised to see him as he looked to see her. For a long moment, the
y simply stood there in stunned silence. Elora’s heart raced as so many thoughts and hopes fluttered through her.
“I thought you were dead,” he said in a hoarse whisper, confusion wrinkling his forehead. “The ravagers ... How did you survive? Did Niobe let you go?”
“No, she’s dead, for good this time. I used a sigil to escape.”
“Like the one you used to transport me? How was that possible? Only a Regent has magic powerful enough to create those types of spells.”
As she listened to him, her hope died.
“I don’t know,” she said. “All that matters is we both survived. We both went home.”
“But you never came back to Ironshore.”
“No. My home is here now.” She gave him a sad smile. “I thought maybe having the rune in your hand would change things for you. That you’d realize how much better life is when you can experience everything. I thought you’d want to remember what it means to love.”
“I remember you,” he said. “Remember the taste of your lips, the feel of your skin under my fingers. Remember the sweet sounds you made when I was inside you.”
Elora’s throat tightened. She didn’t need him to tell her this. For Mason, it was physical, there was nothing more. She needed it to be more, and that was something he couldn’t give her.
“No,” she said wiping her hands with a cloth that she then tossed on the table. “That’s not enough, Mason. I can’t let myself keep believing I’d be satisfied with only a shell of the man you could be.”
Mason stepped into the cabin and closed the door behind him.
“I remember how you told me that love was more than just sex.” He pulled out his ax, rested it against the wall and took a step forward. “I remember you telling me that what was between us wasn’t real anymore. But I think you're wrong.”
“It doesn’t matter what you think,” she said and backed up as he took another step toward her. He grasped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head. “What are you doing?”
Winter Souls: an Adult Paranormal Witch Romance: Sector 10 (The Othala Witch Collection) Page 20