by Ponce, Jen
Tytan laughed. The server filled my cup then gathered the menus in one practiced hand. “I don’t have to sleep with him to enjoy the view.” She winked and left, leaving me with a way too affectionate Skriven by my side.
I dumped a few thousand sugars into my cup and stirred, wishing I’d said no or better yet, just ignored his summons. “So what did you find out about Harrison?” My entire right side burned with the knowledge that it was pressed up against him, every movement I made translated to his body.
“Are you sure you want to talk business? Perhaps we could discuss how magical we’d be together in bed.” His elegant hand dropped, his fingers stroking mine.
I fought off the shiver and moved my hand to a safer position across my body. “Harrison?” I put a bit of, ‘Are you an idiot?’ to it, hoping it would take his mind off sex. Yeah, right.
“In Elkhorn.”
“Nebraska?” The word came out shriller than I intended. A curly haired dude turned in his booth to look at me and I waved him away, pulling out my cell phone, and bumping my elbow into Ty’s ribs in the process. “I have to tell Danni.”
Tytan wrapped his fingers around mine holding the phone. “The man is in a hotel room. Planning what he will do to his wife once he finds her.” One of his fingers slid between mine in an absurdly intimate way. “It seems I have a talent for listening. Would you like to see some of the memories he has of her?”
Before I could say no, Tytan gripped my hand tighter and plunged me into a basement with a screaming woman in the corner. Blood. Pain. Fear so tight and white hot it caused the woman to lose control of her bowels. I yanked my hand from his with a gasp and knocked my coffee across the table. Black liquid tsunamied onto the opposite bench and the cup rattled and spun.
I sat panting as Tytan said the pretty words of apology to the busser, who muttered in Spanish as he sopped up the mess.
I had enough in my head. Enough bad. Enough ugly. I didn’t need to know. Didn’t need to see.
“So, Devany my sweet. I offer you a choice. Call Danni. Let the cops know, and have this piece of human excrement live another day. Or.” He turned a bit in the seat, his knee pressing insistently into mine, as he slid a silver dagger out of his sleeve. “We pay him a visit. You and I. And we teach him what pain and fear really are.”
Damn him. Despite trying hard not to let him anywhere near me, he knew me. Knew I’d entertained my own fantasies of catching Harrison and doing to him what he’d done to Danni. Using him as an effigy for all abusers, to avenge those who’d been hurt by the person who was supposed to love them, and instead hurt them in a thousand little ways. Those tiny, never ending cuts could bleed someone dry given enough time.
Harrison had almost destroyed Danni. Had taken her confidence, her sense of self and safety, her very value as a human being and taught her she was nothing but his toy. And now he was back to finish breaking her.
So what was the moral thing to do? Call the police. Take him back to prison.
But he wouldn’t suffer. Not enough. It would never be enough.
The server slid plates in front of us. I didn’t see the food. I saw Danni on the floor in that basement. And I debated what kind of person I was.
SIX
I woke in my bed. Death ray caliber light blasted through my window. Slamming my eyes shut didn’t help the unholy brightness of it. What time was it? Surely I hadn’t slept through my alarm.
I rolled toward my bedside table, and slapped my hand around until it found my phone. Safely burrowed under the covers, I eased my eyes open to squint at the time. Two o’clock. In the afternoon?
I kicked at the covers and stumbled from bed, my legs weak and unable to bear my weight right away. I thudded into the wall and leaned there for a moment getting my land legs back again. I blinked and blinked until the room snapped back into focus. All right. Functioning vision and—I took a hesitant step—functioning legs. Right.
I opened the door to see my dad standing on the other side, his hand raised to knock. “Oh good, you’re alive. I told that young lady downstairs not to worry.”
“Why didn’t anyone wake me?”
“As if we didn’t try. Banged on your door for an hour this morning.” He grinned. “Suppose you drank too much, huh? Atta girl.”
“Uh. No Dad. I didn’t drink.”
“Sick then. No worries. Kids have been fed. Twice. So’s the kitty.”
I batted hair out of my face. “The what?”
A tiny meow alerted me to the what in question. A fluffy white thing curled around Dad’s ankles and strutted into my room. “The kitty. There was some argument on what to name her so I took both their suggestions under consideration and called her Cheeseweed.”
“Cheeseweed?”
“Yep. It was a compromise. Bethy wanted to name her Milk and Liam wanted Lionessa.”
Maybe I was still befuddled from sleep because I wasn’t following his logic. “Cheeseweed is a compromise?”
“Sure it is.” He held out a hand. “Cheese is made with milk.” Out went the other hand. “Dandelions are weeds.” He clapped his hands. “Cheeseweed!”
I just shook my head, wincing at the sharp bite of pain in my neck. “Okay. I’m going to take a shower. Then I’ll be down.”
“No hurry. I was just coming up to see if I could wake you, for one. For another, I wanted you to know the kids and I are going to the zoo.”
“Oh.” The zoo was one of my favorite places. “I have passes ...” my words trailed off when he held up his hand.
“Got ‘em.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “I had them pack an overnight bag. We’re going to stay at the Hilton and swim this evening. Eat pizza, watch a movie, play video games until our fingers burn.” He patted my cheek, his hand callused and familiar against my skin. “Take it easy, sweetheart. You’re stressed out. I see it in everything you do. Your mother was the same way. Let things eat at her. Long bath. Deep breaths. Maybe a good book. And, damn it, get a drink or two. Father’s orders.”
“Thanks Dad.”
He winked and left me standing in the doorway. Downstairs I could hear Bethy chattering away and wondered what the kids thought about me sleeping in past noon. I wasn’t sure what I thought about it. Nothing in my memory suggested anything strange. Coffee. Tytan being Tytan. His suggestion that we take care of Harrison together. My refusal. The argument that led me to insist he drive me home. He’d had a vaguely wounded look in his eyes as I shut the front door in his face.
At my feet, Cheeseweed meowed again. I scooped her up, sighing at the fluffy softness of her fur. She purred as I carried her to the bathroom, dropping a towel on the floor for her to sit on, if she wished, while I took a shower.
Had he slipped me a roofie? Was that why I’d passed out cold for hours? I wouldn’t put it past him but my body didn’t feel like he’d taken liberties. Besides, I clearly remembered coming up the stairs and getting in bed, after I’d left him standing on my doorstep. And I’d checked my phone before going to sleep. Eight past four in the morning. Then I zonked.
The shower helped wash away the fuzz and clean hair always made me feel like a human being again. The kitten was asleep under the sink, rousing when I nudged her gently with a toe. We’d never had a pet, not even when Liam was four and begged and begged. Tom wasn’t an animal lover and he’d been allergic, to boot, which meant I couldn’t have overridden his veto without looking like an ass. I was glad to have one now, though I did feel sorry about her name. She’d have a complex, it was guaranteed.
“Come on Cheeseweed. Let’s see what’s on TV.”
***
I tried to relax. I really did. But daytime TV sucked and Cheeseweed was a lot more playful than cuddly. In the end I dressed, then tucked the kitten in the crook of my arm before padding downstairs. I’d call Zech and ask him where I could find the Wastes and Ketwer Island—the places the nasally witch had mentioned during my confrontation with the Anforsa. Perhaps I could hook there and do a little searching o
f my own.
The house was quiet, though I did hear voices coming from the basement. I never would have pegged my brother and Arsinua as a couple, but in a strange way they fit together. Travis was about as serious as the testy witch, and had a tendency to think he could lecture me. I always knew he was about to start when his eyebrows would go up and he’d say, “Now Devany, you know ...” For the brief time I’d had Arsinua in my head, I’d heard quite a few lectures from her, too. It amused me to think of them in a heated embrace, both earnestly looking into the other’s eyes and saying, “Listen, what I’m about to tell you is important.”
I sat Cheeseweed down in the kitchen and she ran to one of my ramekins filled with water. Next to it was another filled with kibble. Seriously, if they had the wherewithal to buy kitten food, surely they could have picked up a cat dish. Had they gotten a litter box? Did she even know how to use it? I vowed to insist to my children that they would be responsible for all kitty accidents from here on out.
After I found the box and put the baby in it, just in case she had to go, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed Danni’s number. Zech answered, wariness shading his voice. “It’s just me. I have a question.” I told him what I’d faced visiting Marantha and asked him my question.
“The Wastes are south of the Anwar and Ketwer Island is beyond that, out in Shinglee Bay. Why?”
“Because we have a little problem.” I opened the fridge and stood staring at the contents, as if by wishful thinking alone a meal would jump out and assemble itself. I gave him the short version of the Rider story, and then asked, “What shitty thing will fall down on my head when I go there?”
Zech sighed, making the phone crackle with his breath. “The Wastes are dangerous. You don’t want to go there at all.”
Okay. I grabbed the veggie tray from the fridge and put it on the counter, going back for the ice water and deli ham. “I might have to. I’m not letting this parasite take up housekeeping in my head or my son’s.”
“Devany, the place was cursed by the Wydlings thousands of years ago. There’s nothing left but ruins and broken magic. Hell, the Wydlings even claim their goddess was trapped there by King Sorgen at a place called Tempest Peaks.”
I was tempted to ask who King Sorgen was, but told myself it wasn’t important. “Do you have any idea how I can track down this Rider? Any other stories you’ve heard about the parasite? Anything?”
“I know that King Sorgen and the Wydlings worked together to stop the last infestation, and I know they banished the infected to Ketwer Island.
I dunked a baby carrot into the ranch dressing. “How would that help when the parasite can spread through Dreams?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know. Unless there was some sort of magic used that blocked the dreams.”
“If you think of anything, let me know, okay?”
“Of course.”
“Oh, did Danni tell you about her feeling that she was being watched?” The creamy dip dripped from the tip of my carrot back into the bowl and I wondered if Zech would think me rude if I ate it while we were talking. Probably.
“She did. I expanded the perimeter, placed a few more lodestones further out. I haven’t noticed any disturbances.”
Well, damn. “Are you looking for magic users too?”
“What?”
I sighed. “It’s a long shot, but what if there’s a Skriven dabbling? Or someone else? It couldn’t hurt to keep an eye out for all possibilities.”
He cursed, then said, “Thank you. I didn’t think of that but you’re right.”
We said our goodbyes, and then I ate the crisp orange veggie as I ruminated on what to do next. Perhaps I would pay another visit to Lizzie, now that I knew what had hurt Kroshtuka. She might know how to combat the Rider. She could also give me the Wydling version of the story Zech had told me, and perhaps I’d get a fuller picture of what went down last time Midians drove back the Riders.
It had only been a few minutes since my dad and kids had left for the zoo. If they wouldn’t be home until tomorrow, I would have plenty of time to talk to Lizzie, check on Kroshtuka, and maybe even make a quick sortie to Ketwer Island—depending on what Lizzie told me about the place, of course.
I put the veggies in a baggie to bring with me and hooked to the Dreaming Caves.
***
No one was there to greet me this time. I wasn’t sure if that was bad or good. Bad, I decided, because I wasn’t sure how to get to Kroshtuka from here, and didn’t want to spend the time I had, wandering around lost in a cave. “Hello?” My voice bounced frenetically off the cave walls and disappeared into the darkness beyond the main cavern.
I waited. No answer.
“Damn it.” That echoed too and of course, someone heard that.
“Who is it?” A form came into view. Caterpillar Eyebrows. Goody. He didn’t like me very much. Then again, that might’ve been my insecurity peeking out from the dark corner where it lurked in my mind.
I do not see lurker. See shadows.
“Devany,” I told him. “I came to talk to Lizzie. Do you know where she is?” And inwardly, I said, ‘Shadows? What the hell?’
He huffed, panting a little as he made his way to me. “She is Dreaming. Dreaming, the old fool,” he said, the spaces between his words filled with shallow gasps of breath.
“Is she okay? She hasn’t run into the Rider, has she?”
“Rider?” His voice was sharp.
“Yeah. I came to tell you guys that there’s someone out there with a hitchhiker in their brain. And whoever gets a visit by it in their Dreams, gets the potential for a Rider that will hatch into full-blown parasite at the next moon.” I hated the thought of Lizzie getting infected too. Wasn’t there any way to protect yourself besides staying out of the Dreams? “Is she okay?”
“Young lady, she is Dreaming. It is her specialty. If she were in trouble, she would let us know.” He laced his fingers and rested them on his big belly. “I suppose you want to see the young warrior.”
“If I may.”
“There are rituals, customs, centuries of handed down lore and tradition. I don’t see the value in having an outsider come in and upset it all. The witches sometimes send envoys, well-meaning, passionate missionaries who want to convert the savages. ‘Rescue your people from the tyranny of wild magic.’ Of course, they don’t want us in their cities. Not in their regulated cities where magic isn’t allowed to wend its merry way down hill and dale, changing the world as it sees fit. They find no beauty in change.”
His voice had stopped echoing. I wasn’t sure when that happened. The silence that settled on my shoulders and stoppered my ears felt manufactured. I shifted, wondering if I had anything to fear from this seemingly harmless old guy, then figured I most certainly did.
“So I ask you, world-walker, do you find beauty in change?”
I quelled my temptation to answer right away. It wasn’t a question I was supposed to answer fast and perhaps not at all, though it didn’t have a rhetorical feel to it. Did I like change? Find beauty in it? My life had been all about change, ever since meeting Zech at the sugar tent and stepping into the hook. But did I find beauty in it? In the things that had led to my children being kidnapped and terrorized? In the things that had led me to kill? Hoping I wasn’t condemning myself to being ousted, I said, “I don’t know that I do.”
He looked triumphant, had that, ‘Ha! I knew it,” look on his face.
“Listen. Change isn’t pretty. Okay, some change is. The shift from day to night, that’s pretty. The moon’s phases are pretty too. A woman’s body when she carries her children or as she ages, all that change can be quite lovely. But the change that plunges raw ore into fire and melts it down, that’s not something I’d call pretty. Transformative, maybe. And you can’t tell me it’s easy on that butterfly in its chrysalis. I know I’m an outsider here. I don’t want to offend people, turn you all human, impose my values on you all. Kroshtuka helped me when I needed it. I helped
him. I’d like to see where that goes. That’s all. And maybe figure out how to keep people I care about from turning into parasite-ridden murderers. You know?”
“The witches have been dismissing us as children, as monsters, beasts. Intellectually and magically inferior. They use that as an excuse to steal our people and sell them. To kill us and push their order on our lands.”
“I’m not a witch. I’m not a Wydling. I’m only an outsider, like you said. I can tell you that I’ve talked to your people and to the witches. I hear the bigotry and it depresses me. But you know, Kroshtuka told me that the relationships between his people and some of the border-dwellers has gotten better. That’s a start.”
He snorted, yes, but he didn’t immediately counter with another argument, though from the look on his face, he was trying to come up with something. Finally, he said, “Some of the Elders have wondered if you will open a hole between our worlds, and lead an army through to kill us all.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“How do we know you wouldn’t?” That echoed. I wondered if his control had slipped.
Oh for the love of … I crossed my arms. “You don’t.”
We stared at each other, neither of us willing to blink or look away. We were rescued from severe dry eye by the susurration of voices coming from a tunnel to my left. Led by an ancient looking woman holding a bowl with a bobbing light inside, a procession of Elders wound into the main cavern where Caterpillar Eyebrows and I stood. I really had to find out again what his name was. I’d known it, once upon a time.
The Elders settled themselves on the flat rocks that sat in a rough circle in one vast corner of the cave. Different than the first room we’d talked in, this space looked like there might be a raised dais at one end, giving the configuration a vague horseshoe shape.
“Come on, they’ve decided you must hear a story.”