The Problem with Promises

by Leigh Evans

  Yeah, I always thought so. I rubbed my nose and then pointed casually to the bedroom door. “So a door opens? Like one of those?”

  “Nooooo.” She dragged out the word, managing to infuse oodles of scorn. “It’s a magic door.” Her eyes were very wide, and very blue.

  She’s overdoing the damsel-in-distress act. “With smoke and bells too?”

  She frowned, patently perplexed.

  Evidently, without the usual bells and whistles. “Where does this door appear?”

  “At the pie place,” she said slowly. Then damned if she didn’t give me that look—the one that implies that she was talking to someone a few marbles short of being a dimwit.

  My stomach took that moment to growl. Cordelia was busy in the kitchen, examining the finger she’d run over the counter with a hideous grimace.

  “Is there anything to eat in those cupboards?” I asked Cordelia. “I’m starved.”

  “I’ll probably get flesh-eating disease,” she muttered, using a tea towel to grasp the cupboard knob. “This one’s empty.”

  “You’re a wolf.”

  “Salmonella then,” she said, moving to the next. “And don’t tell me I can’t get that. I spent a memorable afternoon poised over the porcelain after consuming a Caesar salad made by the now-deceased Lois Carmen Denominator.” She slammed the last cupboard. “They’re all empty. I’ll get you some water.”

  Being hungry was low on the pyramid of doom facing us, I thought as the tap ran. Instead of thinking of fudge, I needed to group everything I’d learned about this portal into some sort of shape.

  Important Fact #1: When Lou had dragged me from portal to portal, she’d always gone straight to the nearest water source. Ponds, streams, slow-moving rivers. But this portal didn’t materialize over water. Interesting.

  Important Fact #2: It didn’t come with bells and smoke. A no-frills discount version? Come to visit earth for half the price and twice the bang!

  Important Fact #3: This one didn’t come when called by the portal song. A gate with an attitude? Spare me.

  And finally, Important Fact #4—and perhaps the most fascinating deviation from things I knew about gates—this one came with a gatekeeper.

  Hard not to think of Ghostbusters.

  Concentrate.

  Who was this Fae? Everything I’d been taught about portals had been consistent on one point: the portal’s magic was keyed to recognize and reject those with wolf blood. Thus, tasking a Fae to guard the gate seemed a tad excessive.

  And why would she answer a Were’s summons?

  When the truth hit, it felt like a sucker punch.

  All but one portal rejected Weres.

  I stared at Brenda, and saw not her little heart-shaped face, but a woman with a face like a troll, waving good-bye to the pack of Weres streaming past her. Knox’s portal had to be the Safe Passage. What other gate would require a guide? More importantly, one who was receptive to wolves?

  Darling Trowbridge, you were right. The Safe Passage is not a myth. And now we’re going to use the pie place portal to tra-la-la to Merenwyn, and once the evil mage is vanquished, we’re going to lead your Raha’ells to the land of freedom, fries, and—oh man, gird your loincloths—supposedly equal rights for women.

  “Brenda,” I said, trying not to sound wonderfully gleeful, “how did Knox call the Gatekeeper? Does he have to sing to call for her?”

  “That’s silly,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

  There really is a point when your pity for someone sours. Usually after they turn out to be no nicer as a dumbass than they did as a smart cookie. I could tell. Brenda of the Big Eyes was once a mean girl. “Okeydokey.” I flashed some teeth. “If Knox didn’t sing a song, then how did he call the lady?”

  “He has…” Her china-blue gaze swung to Biggs. “Did you bring it? I need it! The lady won’t come without the coin!”

  Fragile, my ass.

  Biggs hung his head.

  “Hey!” I snapped my fingers to get her attention. “What coin?”

  “The one on his necklace,” she said, her tone indignant.

  The coin threaded through the strip of leather Knox wore around his neck opened the Safe Passage? Not an amulet, but a coin. Of course they wouldn’t let a wolf have an amulet.

  Cordelia turned off the tap. “It was in the plastic bag with all of Knox’s other stuff. What happened to it?”

  “Simon gave it to Whitlock.” I’d watched Whitlock remove everything from the bag except the bottle of sun potion. I’d seen him pitch the keys, pocket the wallet, and examine Knox’s cell phone.… There had been no necklace. “Son of a bitch,” I said slowly, “Knox’s coin wasn’t in the bag when Whitlock went through it.”

  Cordelia asked, “Liam?”

  I focused hard, replaying what I’d seen. Liam had taken the plastic baggie out of the backpack at the shack, which he’d then rolled up and tucked into his waistband. We’d driven to the Peach Pit. When Whitlock had asked him for it, Liam had leaned back on one hip.…

  Frowning, I shook my head. “No, Liam’s hand never went to his waistband until Whitlock asked for the cell phone.” I racked my brains. When was the last time I’d seen Knox’s necklace? Did we leave it in the kitchen in Creemore? No—I distinctly remembered Trowbridge putting it into the backpack before the witches arrived …

  Then, with a sickening slide, my memory transported me back to the shack. To those sweet moments before Ferris burst into the room.… Trowbridge’s hands on my hips, his legs cradling me. Then past him, Biggs at the table, examining the plastic bag.

  I turned to face my once-trusted friend. His eyes said everything I needed to know.

  “You foolish boy,” murmured Cordelia.

  My mouth dried. “You keep betraying us.”

  “You didn’t ask me if I took the coin. You didn’t ask me anything about it!”

  “The time to come clean was before. Not now. How many other things are you keeping from us?” I lifted my hand. “Don’t bother. I don’t believe you anymore. Answer one question: did you know why she needed the coin?”

  “No,” he started. Then he corrected himself. “I didn’t know for sure, but it was the only thing of his she wanted. And…” He looked away.

  “You’re ahead of us on the track. You’ve had more time to put things together. So somewhere along the line—probably just before Ferris fired on Harry—you knew. And you didn’t say anything.” His misery was telegraphed through his scent. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand, and then swiped it twice on my thighs. He would not cling to me. Not in any way. “Where is it?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Biggs dug into his hip pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. The foreign one, with a hole in the middle of it, was slightly smaller than a loonie and much duller. He dropped it in my open palm.

  “How does the coin work?” I asked Brenda.

  She tensed—I hadn’t used my happy voice—and her own scent changed very slightly. “You feed it the wolves.”

  I’ll admit it: I blinked.

  “What wolves?” Cordelia asked sharply.

  “The ones that are there,” she said, as if it was patently clear.

  Enough. “I know you’re a few bits short of all your wits, but do you understand the phrase ‘I’ve had a day’?” She gulped and nodded, so I gave her a smile etched with acid. “Answer Cordelia’s question. Right. Now.”

  “The stone wolves inside the train tracks.”

  The freakin’ statues. I’d stood right beside them talking to Whitlock and neither of us had recognized them as anything other than a visual demonstration of Karma’s twisted humor. “What happens after Knox feeds the statues his necklace?”

  “The smoke comes and she walks through the door. We bring her to our place. He gives her some pieces of wood and she gives him the bottles. Then I watch the hourglass. When the sand—”

  “You take her back.”

  She nodded. “Can I have the coin now?”


  “No. You can’t.”

  She turned to appeal to Biggs. “Tell her to give it to me. I need it!”

  Biggs lifted a trembling hand to cup her jaw. “Don’t worry, Becs. I’ll fix it.”

  * * *

  Merry climbed out of my cleavage. Her amber belly was dull, the usual warm glow of vivid light from her heart dimmed to a pinpoint of faded gold. “Hang in there,” I said.

  She slowly rappelled down the end of her chain, then did just that. She hung, not limply because she was too heavy and ornate to ever achieve that. But somehow, the way she’d tucked each articulated leaf tip underneath a coil of her vine—as if their points were fragile—made me think she was hugging herself in exhaustion.

  “Where’s Canada’s national tree when you need it?” I tucked her into my palm, trying to infuse my heat into her cool stone, and threaded, hipwise, through the brush that grew near the fence.

  The tree selection was not going well. I’d made my way across the back field because I’d noted a small clump of trees near the single strand of barbed wire. What I’d hoped for was a sugar maple sapling. All I netted was a single weak pine, a spindly spruce, and a white birch. The latter was a multiple trunk specimen. Never ideal as a food choice, what with its papery bark. More work to eat than a pomegranate.

  “Best I can do, Merry.” I went on my tiptoes, straining for one of the higher silvery branches. “You’ve got five minutes. Eat up.”

  Anu coughed. I rolled my eyes her way. Chewing on her lip—she’d started that right after the Peach Pit and hadn’t really stopped since then—my niece held out her hand. She mimed placing Merry high in the boughs.

  “That okay with you?”

  Merry’s tepid assent wrung my heart. I handed her to Anu who stretched to set her in a narrow fork, far beyond my reach. Immediately, Merry’s gold flexed and changed shape, and by the time my niece was back onto the soles of her feet, my amulet had settled in for a hasty chowdown.

  I leaned against the pine to watch her. Merry needs feeding—that’s what I’d said when Cordelia had picked up her rifle and given me a significant nod. Then I’d almost growled, “Come with me, Anu.”

  I don’t growl. Not usually. My wolf is finally stepping up.

  Somewhat to my surprise, Anu had trailed me outside without ferret or any further prodding, obviously as anxious to leave the house as I’d been. Biggs’s personal perfume had streamed anxiety and anguish.

  Still was. I could smell it from where we stood.

  A kinder or gentler person would have dealt with the situation back in the house immediately—put Biggs out of his misery—but I needed a couple of minutes to gird my loins. Or maybe it was better to say shore up my foundation, because I didn’t have a loincloth to my name.

  All I had was a crumbling infrastructure.

  Anu stooped to pull a long shoot of dry grass. Into her mouth it went. The kid has an oral fixation, I thought, stroking my ear.

  My brain was caught on a string of four words—much like a CD that had been left to cook on the dashboard. Warped by the sun, the disc’s best track (and it was never one of the filler songs, it was always your personal fave) skipped. You got hung up on the tune’s chorus.

  Here’s a killer one: Brenda had to die.

  Or let’s try that again: in about two minutes or less, Brenda was going to die.

  I checked my wrist, now encircled by the watch Knox had thoughtfully left on his bedside table. Twenty minutes before eight. How long would it take to battle our way through rush-hour traffic to Toronto? Southbound traffic would be heavy. An hour and half? More?

  Cutting it close. Time to witness the deed. My blood’s no purer than Brenda’s. Didn’t matter. Either way, I was taking one of them to face Trowbridge’s accusers.

  “He’s betrayed you,” murmured my Fae.

  “Biggs lied,” I said. “To protect a girl he held above all others.”

  Like I had. Like I would.

  I rubbed my gritty eyes, then winced. Had I said that out loud? Anu’s gaze was fixed on me in a manner that might be best described as concerned bordering on cautious. I shrugged. “Ignore me. I’m just talking to my Fae.”

  Brows raised, she took a hokey-pokey to the left.

  Well, why wouldn’t she be careful? Without any language skills, how could she make any sense of the things that had happened to her over the last few days? Witnessing the events of the last twenty-four hours must have been worse than watching one of those Swedish flicks without any subtitles.

  “I have a Fae inside me,” I said with a faint wince. “She talks. Also a Were. But most of the time she’s pretty quiet. Almost invisible.”

  Until she took Brenda down like a summer-fattened deer.

  “You know, Anu?” I murmured, rearranging my hair to hide my ears. “This wolf thing that you and I fear? It might not be a bad deal after all. I had no idea how much hunting feels like stealing.”

  Her hum could have meant anything.

  I nodded for her benefit and said for Merry’s, “It’s almost identical. I get the same quivery anticipation just before I boost something; the same adrenaline when I pocket it, and then precisely the same ‘life is freakin’ good’ joy when I walk away knowing it’s mine. No wonder Trowbridge likes being a wolf.”

  At the mention of his name, Anu’s head canted sharply to the side.

  The man collects females’ hearts as easily as my white shirt attracts chocolate stains.

  “It must be a rite of passage,” I mused. “You’re right on schedule. I started obsessing over him at twelve. Though, pay attention—he’s My One True Thing, not yours.”

  My finger slid behind my ear and found the peaked curve again. “You want to hear a piece of wisdom from your old aunt? Once I believed I could melt everything down to one true thing. One person to love. One to protect.” I shook my head. “I was lying to myself. But I’d lost so much … Mum and Dad … Lexi. In one night—they were just gone. I never wanted to feel that pain again.” I looked above to where my amulet fed. “Truth is, Trowbridge’s never going to be my only true thing. Merry was one of my first true things. And now I’ve got all these people…” I frowned, thinking it through. “Twined around me again.”

  Take them away and maybe I’d discover that I’m hollow.

  My stomach squeezed. “I take lousy care of the people I love. Last night, my actions left Lexi in a special kind of hell. Tonight, I lost one of ours.” My voice hardened. “And in two hours, I’m going to sacrifice Biggs after I watch him break the neck of the girl he loves.”

  I’m committed to seeing it to the end but—oh Goddess—am I right? There is so much collateral damage.

  My gaze slid away to the ground.

  “All this morality crap might come naturally to others, but you’ll have to trust me on this—it’s a relatively new preoccupation for me.”

  Pinecones rested near the foot of the evergreen. Small ones. Within them, the seeds of future evergreens, if they could only take root. It would take a lot for them to sprout. The right water. The right sun. The right nutrients in the ground. So many variables to consider, so many things to provide. I bent to retrieve one.

  It smelled like Creemore and home.

  “I’m going to leave you here now.” Scales layered the cone. Hard. Woody. “You’re going to stay and watch Merry. Because she needs to feed and because you’re not going to witness another death.” I tossed the cone, then looked up, giving her a stare that promised all kinds of hell if she disobeyed. “Not today. Not if I can help it. Goddess, you’re only thirteen.”

  She let out a trill of Merenwynian.

  “Sorry, Anu. I don’t understand.” Hard to smile but I gave it a weak try. “Do you think my stellar skills at language might be a problem when I get to Merenwyn? Maybe just a bit, huh?”

  Frustration tightened her features and she unleashed another torrent of words.

  With a sigh, I closed the gap between us. Reached out, took her hand. It was cold and la
rger than mine. “There are a lot of things I’d like to tell you. But if there was one thing I could make you understand—just one—it would be about Lexi.”

  Anu flinched.

  Ah. She recognizes his name too.

  “I know you hate and fear him. And maybe you should. I don’t know how really corrupted he is, any more than I know the sum of the damage he’s left in Merenwyn. But I do know that some portion of the brother I loved is still there, buried inside him. He cares about you. He brought you back here. Do you understand me?”

  Perplexed, she shook her head.

  “Your father brought you back to me.” Perhaps it was my tone because she shrank away and I had to tighten my grip lest she peel off before I’d said everything I needed to. “He knew you stood a better chance here in this realm. Lexi brought you here and asked me to make sure the bitches and bullies wouldn’t make you miserable.”

  And I’m pretty sure I can’t.

  Her eyes were wide. Green as the crest of a sunlit ocean roller. “He’s not a terrible man,” I whispered. “I wish you could know that.” I gave her fingers a final squeeze and released them, then made a fork with mine. I pointed to my eyes and then to her, and finally to Merry. “You. Stay. Here. Guard her.”

  I said it one final time. “Stay.”

  An order that was drowned under a piercing screech.

  * * *

  The bird was neither hawk, nor sparrow, but a known enemy. He rode the air currents, tipping his dark wing ever so slightly—the fighter pilot with the lightest touch—to change his course.

  Liam had found us. How? We’d hidden the truck inside the garage.

  Crap. Change of plan.

  “Run to the house, Anu!” I shouted, pushing her in its direction. I then ran to the birch. “Merry, we’ve got to go!”

  In response, my amulet sparked orange-red fire from her heart.

  “Liam’s come. Drop to me!” She needed no further enlargement on the subject of danger, danger, danger! Vines whipping, Merry fell into my palm. I took off at high speed across the field, well behind Anu, whose longer legs had already carried her to the back porch. She held the door open and shouted a warning to the others.