From my left, the other Nymph came at me, sinking his razor-edged teeth into my forearm. I cried out, spun away from the one I’d cut, and with an upward sweep, drove the dagger through the Nymph’s chin and straight up into his head. His eyes cleared for the barest instant, horror and confusion written in the depths of blue. I swallowed down the bile that rose in my throat as he rocked back, careened forward, and crumpled at my feet.
“Look out!” Moira called out just in time to save me from a sword thrust to my face.
I jumped back, narrowly avoiding the injured Nymph’s teeth. My sword arm stung, weakened by the tears in my flesh that oozed blood down to my fingertips. The dagger felt heavy in my grasp, but I lunged and swung, managing to nick my attacker’s shoulder before he spun away. Moira had her hands full at my side, distracting me as I watched her parry blow after blow, getting in a few good stabs of her own. I had to give her credit—the girl could fight.
A sudden, jarring pain blinded me, a thousand stars against a black sky in my vision. The world slipped away, and I fell, down…down…through the void until all that was left was welcome oblivion.
“Paris,” I said, tossing the postcard across the farm-style table. “You know, he’d be better off hiding somewhere like Wyoming or Montana. Paris is a little conspicuous, wouldn’t you agree?”
Azriel nodded absently, his eyes swirling with a darkening storm. He hated the postcards almost as much as they intrigued me. “Lorik is a fool. And he has no intention of lying low. Not now, not ever.”
Tapping the postcard on the table, Azriel stared out the window as the rain battered the leaded panes before running in rivulets to the ground. I supposed we’d go out walking soon; he loved to be outside in the rain. “Why does he send them?” I asked, nodding at the postcard. “You know, don’t you?”
“There’s more to Lorik than meets the eye.” I could tell by his tone Azriel would not open the subject for discussion. “That’s all you need to know.”
“What is he to you?” We’d been receiving the postcards for almost a year. I wanted—no needed—to know why. “Why don’t you trust me enough to share your secrets with me?”
“What do you mean, love?” His words were spoken softly but carried a warning edge. “I share my life with you. Is that not enough?”
“Do you not think I can handle the truth? Is that why you keep things from me? Do you not think I’m strong enough? Capable?”
“What I do is for your protection.” He’d abandoned the facade of calm, heading down a path I knew better than to follow. “If I keep things from you, it is for your own good. Do not make me regret the decision to save your life, Darian. Leave all things to me and you will be safe. Accept that fact or risk your safety.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. He’d saved my life; he’d cared for me. How could I question him or doubt his honor for even one second? “I—I was just curious, that’s all. The postcards, they’re like a mystery. A puzzle to be solved.”
“Perhaps you need diversion,” Azriel said, pulling me onto his lap. His breath tickled where he lowered his lips to my throat. “You need no puzzle to solve or mysteries to unravel.” His lips were warm, soft, sending a ripple of pleasure across my skin. “You have me, and I am enough.”
My head rolled back on my shoulders as he unbuttoned my dress. Yes. I had him. And he would be with me. Always. I didn’t need to know the truth. I didn’t need to know anything besides that he loved me. He was enough.
And I trusted him.
Chapter 28
I hadn’t trusted him.
I’d done to Tyler what Azriel had done to me all those years ago. I’d taken control of him and the situation, and I hadn’t trusted him to be my partner, my equal. I’d used my body to distract him. I’d treated him as if he were weak, beneath me, and he knew it. I’d expected him to blindly trust me without offering anything in return. And I’d left him.
I reached for my thumb, touching the skin that had been worn smooth by Tyler’s ring. What had Faolán done with it? I needed it. I needed to feel that part of Tyler on my body.
“Darian,” Moira said, not so gently slapping my cheek. “Darian, can you hear me?”
No. Well, I didn’t want to anyway. Admitting I could hear her was acknowledging this reality, the fact that I’d dug myself a hole I couldn’t get out of, and had more than likely lost the only thing in my life I cared about.
“Darian.” She slapped me harder this time, and my head throbbed where I’d been hit. Lovely. Just lovely.
“I can hear you fine,” I said, venturing to open one eye and then the other. “But if you slap me like that again, you’re going to be the one unconscious.”
“Get up,” she laughed. Apparently she didn’t consider me a threat. “We have to keep going.”
Slowly, oh, so slowly, I brought myself to a sitting position. Damn, I hated how susceptible to injury I was in this place. My head bobbed on my shoulders, and the effort it took to support its weight made me want to lie back down. I reached tentative fingers through hair matted with blood, wincing as I made contact with a large gash.
“It probably feels worse than it looks,” Moira said, supporting my shoulders. “Your skin was split clear to the skull. I stopped the bleeding and gave the cut a little jump start in the healing department. It’s nothing more than superficial now. You should be fine.”
A jump start? Okay, whatever. “What happened?” Besides the fact that I’d been knocked out by a lesser opponent. The shame was almost worse than the injury.
“Pride before the fall?” Moira said. “Not quite. They double-teamed you while I was occupied. You turned your attention to the greater threat, and the other took you down with the pommel of his sword. Better a knock to the head than a blade through your heart.”
“Doesn’t feel much better.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re very arrogant?”
Sure. In so many words, almost everyone I’d ever met. But in my line of work you had to be a little cocky. “You have a problem with arrogance?”
“In a Guardian?” Moira smiled. “Not at all.”
I looked around at the bodies littering the ground beside us—senseless deaths at Faolán’s hand. After all, these Nymphs would still be alive and well if it hadn’t been for his influence. How many more had to suffer for his insanity? If I had anything to do with it, not another soul.
“What happened when Faolán attempted his last coup?” All I knew was that Brakae had helped to imprison him. There had to be more to the story, and besides, it helped to pass the time as we walked.
“He never should have fallen in love with her,” Moira answered. “It was his undoing.”
“Yeah. I got that much.”
“Faolán’s race was bred for war,” Moira said. “Fearless warriors, terrifying in their beast forms. Badb kept the Enphigmalé busy for centuries, fighting her battles. But when the humans became involved, the gods didn’t think it was fair to let them fight against supernatural beings. Humans are so very fragile.”
From Moira’s tone, I got the impression she didn’t chum around with many humans. She rolled her eyes at my thoughts, answering my unspoken question.
“The gods decided it was in the best interest of humanity to separate them from the Fae and their kin and rend the fabric of time in two. They gave their extraordinary children a choice: Live in the mundane and hide their true natures or live in O Anel openly.”
It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Seriously, you expect me to believe that actual gods and goddesses did this?”
“Darian,” Moira said with pity, “you’re thinking like a human. Your narrow-mindedness is perhaps your most unsavory quality. Badb pulled Faolán from the battlefield and gave him a position of honor: Guardian of Iskosia: the key to O Anel. He would help to maintain the balance of time and protect O Anel’s Time Keeper if need be. I doubt he was thrilled with the appointment, but he tolerated it…until Brakae was chosen to serve.”
&nbs
p; I didn’t think the whole mundane world/Faerie Realm thing had been created too recently. Still…“Faolán had mentioned that he didn’t care about the others, so clearly Brakae wasn’t the first Time Keeper.”
“Brakae was the fifth. In the beginning, there were many uprisings, and Guardians were busy protecting their charges. Faolán satisfied his need to fight for a thousand years, squashing this usurper or that. By the time Brakae had been called to serve, the hourglass was nothing but a myth.”
“I take it peace didn’t sit well with our gargoyle?”
“Oh, it agreed with him. He fell in love, after all. But there were too many rules to follow, too many restrictions. Brakae was bound to the essence of time. She had become one with chaos and could never leave O Anel.”
Moira’s story was just too tragic for my usual jaded outlook. “Faolán couldn’t stomach the way she aged.” He’d said as much already.
Moira nodded. “Amongst other things. And so he gathered his army and set to the task of overthrowing the order the gods had created. Obviously, he did not succeed.”
Brakae’s energy called to me, and I steered Moira to the left, following her trail. “Badb punished him?”
“Brakae set the trap, and Faolán never suspected her betrayal. I led a small army against him, and we captured the nine Enphigmalé warriors still living. We trapped them between the worlds; I suppose you’d call it purgatory. Through my blood, Badb punished them all for their treason by imprisoning their beast forms in stone. And in that empty place, they were to stay.”
“Until I came along,” I murmured.
“Yes,” Moira said. “Until you.”
“Why doesn’t Badb step in again?” I asked. “I suspect she could end this pretty quickly, being a goddess and all.”
Moira leveled her ice blue eyes on mine. “The old gods don’t have much power anymore. No one worships them in these modern times. When there are no prayers to answer, they have no meaning. The old gods sleep.”
Damn. Moira just got cheerier by the second. I closed my eyes, her story swimming around in my head. The urge to rest weighed on me, tugging me toward an inviting darkness I had to ignore. Focus. I felt Brakae’s energy. Close. And something else, too—a power that had nearly brought me to my knees the first time I’d been brought near it.
“They’re not far,” I said to Moira. Her face came in and out of focus as I willed my eyes to stay open. “And I know where they are.”
“The Ring,” Moira said as if she’d known all along.
“If you knew where they’d be going all this time, then why in the hell didn’t you just take us right to them? Jesus, Moira, what a monumental waste of time!”
The sadness in her eyes made me sorry I’d jumped her shit. “There is no constant this close to Kotja A’ma, Darian. Everything changes. Even the landscape.”
Christ. I hadn’t thought of that. But then again, how could I have known? No wonder everyone here was so fucking bummed out all the time. You could leave your house in the morning and the damned thing wouldn’t be there when you got back! That is, if you managed to find your way back. It explained why I hadn’t seen any permanent structures, or many other living creatures for that matter. I’d go absolutely crazy in this place if I were forced to live here. “I’m sorry.” What else could I say?
Moira shrugged. “It is all a matter of the natural order. We are in the heart of chaos, here. That’s all. Outside The Ring, there are provinces, villages, just like the mortal realm. Change isn’t quite so noticeable. It’s not as bad as you think it is. That feeling you have inside you? The magnetic draw that calls to your soul? You feel it because you are the Guardian of O Anel’s key and are tied to this place.”
“Then why can’t you feel The Ring?”
“I am tied to time in the mortal realm. I feel the pull there, not here.”
Food for thought. But, really, the more time I spent here with Moira, the more I learned. Trial by fire—that was the way for me. Fate sure did have it out for me, but Fate didn’t take into account that I was a hell of a lot tougher than most souls. Dish it out—I can take it. “We need to get moving.” That was, if I could kick my sorry ass into gear. “They’re close, and we’re running out of time.”
“I feel it as well,” Moira said, helping me to stand. “A strange energy charges the air, as if I could reach through time and touch the world beyond the veil.”
Fear stomped a path through my chest, down into my stomach, a knot that settled like a boulder. “Well, then, I guess we’d better get our asses going.”
Moira checked the wound on the back of my head one more time, deeming me fit to fight. The gash had begun to close, albeit slowly, and I didn’t feel as though I were carting a watermelon around on top of my shoulders anymore.
“All right, Guardian,” she said. “Where to from here?”
I smiled. Who would have thought I’d actually like her? I closed my eyes, felt Brakae’s unmistakable pull, and thought, south, but then realized if the landscape changed in the blink of an eye, direction wouldn’t mean much. “This way,” I said, jutting my chin to the left.
We continued to walk, though I wanted to run. My head protested, aching every time I pushed our pace. Our surroundings had changed yet again. Autumn had released its hold, the land becoming dormant for winter’s sleep. Fluffy bits of white drifted down from a light gray sky, and my breath clouded the air with puffs of moisture.
“He thinks of you often,” Moira said, breaking the silence. “Azriel.”
I stopped dead in my tracks.
“Does this surprise you?”
Hell, yeah, it did. “Azriel is dead.”
“Azriel is crossed over,” Moira said. “Nothing is ever truly dead. His soul has merely begun a new existence.”
“You’re a Herald—is that right?” It was time to put Levi’s knowledge to work.
“That’s correct.”
“So you speak to the dead?”
Moira motioned her hand before us, urging me to walk. “The crossed over.”
I closed my eyes for the briefest moment, zeroed in on Brakae’s location, and started off. “You speak to the crossed over?” Sheesh.
“When they have something to say, yes.”
“And Azriel had something to say.” My stomach backflipped at the thought. Where was he? Could he see me? Did he know what had happened to me?
“He wants you to know that he holds no ill will toward you. You did what was right and just. He wants you to know”—she paused as if deciding whether she should go farther—“that he cares for you still.”
A sucker punch to the gut would have hurt less. “Is that all he said?”
“That is all he wants you to know. For now.”
Typical. Leave it to Azriel to jerk me around, even in death. Control was his greatest weapon, and he’d taught me to use it like a master. “So I guess that means I can expect to hear from him again?” Oh joy of joys. Just what I needed.
“If he feels so inclined, yes.”
Let’s hope he decides to keep his fat mouth shut. Moira’s lips curved into a half smile, and though I knew she’d heard my thoughts, I was glad she decided to keep her own to herself.
The light snow that peppered our heads and shoulders became dense, sticking to the ground and accumulating with each passing minute. I hated the cold, but I loved snow. Silence seemed to accompany its falling, as if the world held its breath for spring’s arrival. I loved the silence here. Time didn’t hammer like an angry drum, reminding me of its never-ending presence. But despite the peace I felt in this place, it didn’t have Tyler. And I’d rather have an entire percussion section take up residence in my brain than live without him.
My bones began to hum in my body, and I knew we were close. The Ring had called to me in an unmistakable way, and beneath that pull I felt Brakae’s presence calming me. You do realize that Faolán can control me? There was no need to blurt that fact aloud. Moira could hear my thoughts just fine. If it
comes to a fight, I don’t know how much help I’ll be.
Faolán’s magic is old and strong. Moira’s thoughts pushed into my head. We’ve already established that. But you, Darian, are a Guardian and have power of your own. Don’t forget your purpose: Protect the natural order. Set your focus on the task at hand. Keep your heart and your mind fixed to Brakae and you’ll be fine. Faolán is strong, but nothing can overpower a Guardian’s protection. Why do you think he now wants you dead?
Good point.
My boots crunched in the snow as we walked, and I shivered at the cold, though it didn’t bother me as much as it usually did. The sooner Faolán fell beneath my sword, the faster I could get the hell out of here and back to Tyler. The Ring called to me, my body welcoming its power the closer we came. I could almost smell Faolán’s foul stench beneath the crisp, clean aroma of snow. My fist tightened around the dagger’s hilt as I quickened my pace. Time to go to work.
The forest thinned as we approached the ring of stones. My chest ached with the force of its power, but I drank it in, inviting rather than rejecting the sensation. Already I felt stronger, my feet more secure beneath my body. My head no longer throbbed, and as I twisted my torso, the stab wound didn’t pull at the stitches. A smile crept to my face as the trees seemed to part in our wake to expose the ancient structure. I was itching for a fight, and Faolán was going to bring one to me.
Cover would be an issue, exposed as we were. My assassin’s instincts kicked in, stealth taking precedence over a charge to battle. Moira motioned for me to follow as she kept to the outer ring, crouching low to the ground and using the sparse trees and bushes for cover. Faolán and Brakae were still out of sight, but they were there, somewhere in the innermost ring. I felt them both, each vying for the top spot in my subconscious. I constructed a mental barrier—a brick wall inside my brain, shutting both of them out. If I allowed Brakae inside my head, it would leave me vulnerable to Faolán’s influence. She said she trusted me. She’d just have to keep trusting me.
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