by Shona Husk
“So are you going to tell me about the tattoos?”
“Can’t. I’m bound by oaths I have no desire to risk breaking.”
Roan’s lips turned into a grin. “So, you really are a powerful sorcerer.”
“Possibly the last one.” When he died, magic in the Fixed Realm would die with him.
The buzzer went off and Dai pushed the button.
“It’s Eliza, with lunch,” the female voice said.
“Come up.” Dai released the button and glanced at Roan. “You swear never to tell anyone. Not even Eliza.”
“I can’t tell anyone. What kind of man lets his little brother take a beating in his place?”
“One who was king and had to keep his people together. I don’t blame you. Be angry at Claudius, not yourself.” Dai would never tell Roan the full extent. There was no point. He didn’t need people feeling sorry for him. He hadn’t felt sorry for himself for a long time. Better to be angry and incite rebellion.
That plan hadn’t worked out so well.
But he was alive. Maybe Roan was right about one thing; he should be making the most of his second chance at life. He should see how deep Amanda’s attraction ran. Dare himself to cross lines he swore never to step over again. Around Amanda, his thoughts were far from pure and celibacy lost its appeal…even though the alternative was fraught with more danger.
He opened his front door as Eliza got out of the elevator.
She looked around the apartment. “That was quick.”
“When Dai puts his mind to it he can do anything.” Roan kissed Eliza on the cheek and took the bags from her.
“Thank you for organizing the furniture.” He smiled. His apartment was looking more like a home, like he had a life and belonged in the Fixed Realm.
“Not a problem. Roan needs the extra driving practice.”
That wiped the smile off his brother’s face. Mr. I’m-Fitting-In was having problems.
“You’ll get there. You just have to be one with the car.” Eliza gave Roan a wink as they shared a joke that didn’t get a laugh out of him.
Suddenly the burger and chips were making him really hungry, so he turned his attention to eating and ignoring the happy couple getting reacquainted after only being apart for a couple of hours.
“Roan says it’s your birthday on Saturday.” Eliza raised her eyebrows and bit into a chip as if daring him to argue.
He didn’t want to disappoint. “According to the fictitious driver’s license.”
“No, it’s your birthday. I made sure Birch got it right,” Roan added.
Dai kept the surprise off his face. Roan knew when his birthday was. “But not the age.”
Centuries of existence in the Shadowlands had been compressed into just thirteen years. He was barely nineteen when cursed. He’d be thirty-three instead of twenty. Birch had kept the eighteen-month age gap between the brothers and as much as they could from their old lives to make the transition easier. After living for centuries, counting years didn’t seem important.
“Can you imagine an eighteen-year-old becoming king now? Or picking up a sword to defend his home?” Roan said.
Dai’s lips curved up on one side. “Maybe his cell phone.”
Boys were boys for much longer than they were when Roan and he were growing up. That was a good thing. No one should have that much responsibility so young.
“Birthday party at our place at six,” Eliza said between bites.
“You don’t have to.” Really. He’d hoped it would slide past with no one noticing, the way birthdays always had in the Shadowlands.
“Yeah I do. It’s the first of many as a human again.” Roan gave him a grin. “I assume you can get there on your own.”
Dai nodded. “Six o’clock.”
How many people would Roan invite to the party? Even, as he thought it, he didn’t care. He only cared that Amanda would be there. And he would be ready.
Chapter 10
Eliza spread the chocolate icing on the cake. A proper birthday cake.
“You made a cake?” Amanda leaned against the kitchen counter.
“It’s a birthday.” Eliza plopped some more icing on and smoothed it around the sides. “Besides, who doesn’t like cake?”
“He’s an adult.” She tried to remember the last time she had cake on her birthday. It was a very long time ago—and she’d made it herself because her mother didn’t have time.
“Yes, but Dai’s been out of civilization for so much of his life and missed so many birthdays.”
“And Roan too?” Amanda waited for Eliza to brush off the question. She was very good at evading anything that came remotely close to digging into the King brothers’ lives.
“For some of it.” Eliza put down the knife she was using to spread icing and looked at Amanda. “Roan is the one.”
Amanda wasn’t sure she believed in the one anymore. Matt was supposed to have been that man. She thought he was, even after his death. Now it seemed like an empty fairy tale. There were no Prince Charmings and no such thing as undying love. Love died. Or at least faded into something less fulfilling. What she’d thought would last a lifetime burned away quickly without anyone to tend it with until she was left holding cold cinders.
“You’ve only known him for a few weeks.” And while she’d initially encouraged Eliza to take a chance—anyone was better than Steve—now she wasn’t sure. The brothers were changing everything. Roan had swept Eliza up, and Eliza wasn’t even looking at the ground. And Dai…he was haunting her sleep and making her count the hours until she saw him again. But all she could think about was falling and breaking her heart. She wasn’t sure she could survive that again.
“I feel like I’ve known him all my life.” Eliza’s eyes glistened.
She knew that feeling. When it didn’t matter what anyone else said. When logic didn’t mean a thing. She missed that. A ripple of envy coursed through her body and tightened around her heart. Eliza had a freedom she would never have when it came to men. She couldn’t jump like Eliza, even if she wanted to. She had Brigit to think about. She forced a smile. Eliza deserved to be happy. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I won’t.” Eliza picked up a tube of white icing and carefully began drawing a symbol on the top of the rectangle cake. “Do you think the cake looks like a book?”
“Add some lines around the sides for pages and you’ll be right.” Her eyebrows lowered as she realized what Eliza was drawing with the icing. “Why are you drawing a pentacle?”
“The cake’s supposed to look like a book of magic.” Eliza paused and glanced at Amanda. “Dai has an interest in the occult,” she said as if it explained everything. Instead it raised more questions.
“What kind of interest?” Was he a nut who ran around naked under the full moon casting spells? What would he look like naked? She pushed the thought to the side. Or was he a practitioner of new-age therapies? Would he be able to help Brigit or offer any advice?
“Research.”
“Oh.” He wouldn’t be able to help Brigit. She was just a little disappointed she wouldn’t have an excuse to talk to him and see what he thought about some of the things she was trying in an effort to heal Brigit.
Eliza gave her a grin. “If you give him half a chance, he’ll bore you with the rituals of a forgotten tribe. And if you’re really lucky he’ll tell you in their language.”
“Really?” That actually sounded rather interesting. The study of people and their beliefs wasn’t too far removed from what she did. While she would have loved to study something less practical, she needed to be able to get a job at the end of college because she refused to be totally dependent on Coulter money. “Doesn’t it take years to learn a language?”
And Dai wasn’t old enough to speak the hundreds he claimed.
“Not if you’re him.” Eliza turned the cake to admire her artwork. “What do you think?”
“Looks great.” What did she get a man who researched mystic ritual
s and spoke weird languages for his birthday? “Any suggestions for a present?”
“Books.”
“What kind?” She glanced at the cake again. A giant book of magic.
“Any. He loves to read. Fiction about magic or treasures or lost civilizations. He’s just finished reading the Harry Potter series.”
Right, about a boy who could do magic and went to school in another realm. Was Dai turning thirty-three or thirteen? Something about him didn’t add up. Her search had turned up a few references to his studies and a short mention of his family. But huge chunks of time were unaccounted for, and while he could’ve been off in some foreign land doing something, the excuse didn’t sit right. It was like she was looking at the edges of a puzzle and trying to guess at the picture. But instead of running she wanted to solve the mystery.
***
Night slid over the city and the buildings lit up as though they could hold back the shadows. Dai waited until the sun was completely gone from the sky and no trace of its passing remained. Then he stepped through the fabric of reality and into Amanda’s backyard with hardly a stumble. His inner ear was getting used to the rapid change in place, but his body was still struggling. Fingers of pain gripped his temples. He ignored them, knowing they would fade in a few minutes if he resisted the temptation to use more magic.
Amanda’s house was easy to find. It was linked to her, and he could find her far too easily. Half a thought and he was halfway to her. Her house and yard were smaller than Eliza’s, but filled with children’s toys, from the plastic cubbyhouse to the bike and trampoline. Amanda was giving Brigit everything she could. He turned his attention to the house and walked slowly around. Through the glass sliding doors he saw a figure sitting at the dining table, and he was ready to bet a pile of goblin gold that the person inside wasn’t a cop. He took a step and appeared in the house.
A kid in a black hoodie and pants sat at the dining room table. His hands were playing with a gold chain as if it was a rosary and he was praying for salvation. It was the kid’s hands that made Dai pause. They were white, whiter than skin should be, like he had no color. Dai walked around the table.
The kid jumped, and his hood fell back as he stood.
It wasn’t just his hands. His hair had no color either, and his eyes were pale, so pale they could hardly be called blue. They were more like puddles of water reflecting a pale winter sky.
“What you starin’ at?”
“You. This isn’t your house.”
“’S not yours either.” His white-lashed eyes narrowed. “You Amanda’s boyfriend?”
“Friend.” He hadn’t been a boy in a very long time. “She’s worried about you.”
And so was he. With the sight he could see a red thread wrapped around the boy’s throat like a noose, but that wasn’t the worst thing he saw when he looked at the weave of the boy. The Shadowlands ran through this kid like an extra circulatory system bleaching the color from his body and life, until only gold remained. It was like he was experiencing their curse while living in the Fixed Realm. His soul was slowly corrupting until he had no option but to give in to the greed. Dai frowned. How was that possible?
“Why isn’t she here?” The boy rubbed the chain between his fingers as if holding the gold gave him comfort.
A feeling Dai was too familiar with and had come too close to giving in to. How far gone was this kid? Too far gone if he was willing to hurt people to take more gold.
“You took her ring. You scared her.”
The kid’s face scrunched and he dropped the tough act. “I can’t help it. It was gold.” His hands stopped moving as if he realized what he was doing.
“Gold’s nice, isn’t it? Pretty, shiny.”
“Yeah. I can’t help it. I always want it.” He cocked his head. “You klepto too?”
Dai placed his hands on the back of a dining chair as he faced the boy who was halfway to goblin. There was something about this kid he should recognize.
“No. But I used to hoard gold.”
“Where?” His pale eyes got wide as if he hoped to steal it.
The kid was goblin. All he lacked was the gray skin and yellow eyes. Why would a human soul give into greed so young? Did he not realize what would happen to him? That once he became a goblin, a true goblin, he would be soulless and condemned to the Shadowlands forever.
Dai shook his head. The gold the last of the Decangli had hoarded had been left in the Shadowlands for any goblin who could hang on to it. “I gave it away.”
“You got better.” The kid’s eyebrows rose.
“I didn’t need it anymore.” No amount of gold could give him what he wanted. There was no price that could be put on freedom…or the way Amanda looked at him.
“I don’t need it. I just can’t stop.” He dropped the gold chain and stared at his hands. “I don’t want to live like this.”
The kid’s words echoed in the empty house, chilling the marrow of his bones as only the Shadowlands could. Dai had heard those same words once before in Decangli—in the Shadowlands. They were the final words of a young warrior before he took his own life.
“Fane?” Dai looked more closely at the boy.
There was no physical resemblance except for the age. But the web of lines that made up his body suddenly made brutal sense. Fane had slit his throat rather than live on in the Shadowlands at the command of all who summoned them. The harsh life had broken him down until all he thought about was escaping in death. But death didn’t bring him the relief he hoped for. Fane was still living the curse. Trapped in a nightmare he couldn’t be free of. How many lives had he lived with the shadows chasing him?
“Flynn,” the boy threw back.
“Sorry. You reminded me of someone I knew.” This wasn’t Fane anymore, even though he’d been fighting the curse ever since.
“Did he like gold too?”
“No.” Fane had never got that far into the curse. “But he was young, about your age, and no one noticed when he was in trouble.” They had all failed him and his death had been another wound for them to bear.
And here Fane was again, still dealing with the Shadowlands because he hadn’t faced it the first time around. Dai studied the red thread; it was too thick to mark just one suicide. As he looked closer he saw that like a rope it was made of many fibers. With each life cut short it had thickened. The realization hollowed his stomach. Fane had taken his life many times over in an effort to be free of the curse, but that wasn’t the way reincarnation worked. If the lessons weren’t learned in one life, they had to be repeated. Issues would carry through and tarnish the next life. And the one after that.
He looked at Fane and saw a warning of what his future would be like if he didn’t overcome his hate of Claudius. He would carry that with him. The weight of every year he lived pressed down and made breathing difficult. But knowing what he needed to address and being able to move on were two different things, otherwise he would’ve done it years ago.
“I can’t force you to do anything.” He gave the threads in the kid’s body a pluck to see if they would unravel with some help, but they were stuck fast. He couldn’t remove the red noose, or the Shadowlands threads, without unraveling the boy’s life. Whatever was wrong with him he had to fix himself, much like when Roan was cursed. He would do more harm than good by interfering with magic, but that didn’t stop him from offering advice.
“Only you can make the right choice. But if you don’t go to the police, you’ll find no peace. They’ll keep looking for you.” Dai didn’t add that until he faced the effect of the curse it would be bound to him. This kid would have no understanding of any of his previous lives.
“You gonna call them?” Was Flynn looking at him hopefully?
He could, but it would change nothing. He couldn’t unravel the mess Fane had made centuries ago. He wished he’d paid more attention, or done something back then. Maybe Fane would have faded, but the curse would’ve been completed and in death he would’ve bee
n free. Instead he was stuck in limbo. The curse may have broken, but the damage lingered.
What did that mean for Anfri, Brac, and Meryn? Anfri and Meryn had given in and Brac had chosen to go down fighting. Would they be free of it or haunted by it in their next life? What damage was done to them that had to be undone? He had no way of knowing. Only that Roan and he had been lucky, very lucky. If they had taken their lives as they planned, they would’ve been forced to face the consequences of dodging the curse in the next life.
Dai shook his head. “You have to help yourself, Flynn.”
“You came ‘round to tell me that?”
“And to leave Amanda alone. Stay away from her house.” He gave the kid a friendly smile, and forced out the words. “Any chance I can have her ring back?”
“I can’t give it to you.”
“Trade?”
“Nah, can’t.” Flynn pulled his hood up. “I’ll be seein’ you, Amanda’s friend.”
“Dai.”
The kid stared at him for a moment too long. Did he recognize him? For a moment Dai saw the young warrior, a man old enough to swear rebellion, and then he was gone. Replaced by an uncertain kid who didn’t understand why he wanted gold more than life. Then Flynn turned and slipped out the back door and into the night.
Dai locked the door and stared out into the dark yard. Around his pale reflection was black, like an extra shadow. His chest ached as if the claws were sliding over bone and rubbing them raw. He pressed his hand to his chest where the talons should poke through, but it didn’t ease the pain.
The idea of having to repeat the life lessons made him sick. Despite all the knowledge he’d accumulated over the centuries, he had no idea how to break free and no idea how to help Fane. His forehead touched the cool glass. He didn’t want to carry his past through to his next life, yet at the same time, letting go didn’t feel right. He hated the four years he’d spent as a slave. He hated the fear, and the loathing that Claudius had created. He still hated Claudius. Forgiving him was like granting a mass murderer parole for good behavior. He closed his eyes. He knew he had to do something or he would be trapped like Fane, forever damned to repeat until he learned and changed the outcome.