Amira flattened herself to the glass, her palms almost denting the barrier. Her eyes widened when she recognized Ciaran and Logan. Disappointment washed over her. But then, she noticed bloodstains on Ciaran’s shirt. And the cadence of her heartbeat gained speed again. She clenched her fingers, but the tingling in her fingertips could not be assuaged. The ugly presentiment, blooming in her chest, could not be rubbed away.
Time seemed to stretch out for eternity and contract all at the same time. With a fervent urgency she rushed through the door and down the stairs, ran headlong all the way up to the front door—and stopped dead in her tracks. The last step—too hard for her to conquer.
Deep in the marrow of her bones she felt that if she turned the knob now, there would be no going back. There would be no escape. But then she knew, there never had been. Amira turned the knob and stepped outside, her heart pounding like a drum as every last pair of eyes turned on her.
“They are family, Burt,” she addressed the angry man, who was at the front of few dozen others.
“They have done something to the lord. The young one all but admitted it!” He waved his dagger, the horses squirmed, people tensed.
“I’ll bring him home. Safe,” Amira promised, knowing exactly what those words entailed. “But I need a minute.”
Burt took another glance at her cousin, obviously not convinced, but finally he nodded. “And not a minute more or we’ll find out everything our own way.”
“What are you now? The mistress of the castle?” Ciaran sneered at her when the men retreated, giving them space.
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” She could not contain it anymore. All the emotions she’d tried to suppress escaped their prison cell, blowing out the four walls with a loud bang. Splinters flew. Thunders bellowed with fury in response. The winds rose. Ciaran and Logan’s heads whipped round in confusion, but she didn’t let them utter a single syllable. “What have you done?”
“He didn’t—”
“I came to save you,” Ciaran interrupted his brother, his attention now focused on her. “Now come. We are leaving.”
“Stop bossing me around and answer the bloody question!”
“Someone needs to,” he shot back, and Amira choked. Hadn’t Raven said something similar to her just the other day?
“Take me to him.” This time her command was too close to a plea.
“He’s dead,” her cousin said calmly, “and good riddance to bad rubbish, I say.”
The callous words were like a punch to her solar plexus. Amira’s world tipped sideways and forced her to face the cold black void those words left in her.
“Mira!” She heard her name like a background noise. “Mira.” Ciaran jumped down his horse, but strangely, it was hard for her to follow the movements. “Don’t cry.” His voice came from so close, she blinked, unable to understand how he had appeared right in front of her so quickly.
“I never do.” She heard a whimpering breath she didn’t recognize as her own. And when her fingers went up to her cheek, she touched a wet trail.
A single tear had run down her face. Amira caught it before it could drop off her chin, and brought it to her lips. But even the salty proof was not enough for her to comprehend what was happening—she never, ever cried, after all.
“What did he do?” Ciaran asked, gently this time. Misinterpreting her distress.
“He … he made me realize I could be liked just the way I am.” He made me fall for him—she kept the bigger truth to herself.
“Well of course you can be,” he assured her. “I always did.”
“We are blood,” she whispered, no longer dangling off the precipice of her emotions. She was left numb. “You think I’m your responsibility.”
“That too, but…” His fingers wrapped around something on his neck and his lips twisted into a small, but sad smile. “Do you remember when my parents died and we came to live with you? I was so mad at everything. Natalie could not stop crying and Logan … Logan was only an infant. And there were you, a little sprout of barely five years…”
“You were barely eight yourself.”
“You came to me one day with this locket,” he said as he revealed what he was holding, and Amira blanched. “You told me it would guard me, and then you continued to plague me with jokes until I stopped growling at everything—your words. I still remember the bed full of frogs, you know. And yes, I took it upon myself to keep you safe, but it doesn’t mean I don’t like you. To me you will always be that girl who helped me deal with pain.” To me, you’ll always be a sister.
“If that’s how you feel, you will take me to Raven. Please.” She reached for his locket, and pulled her hand back immediately, not being able to touch it. It was another blow to her heart. Another punch. She didn’t know how much more she could take.
The locket was an amulet of protection. Several times more powerful than Arushna’s. But where Arushna’s protected only from dark magic, this one protected from all types of harm. And it made her realize just how much more guilty she was. Not only had the goddesses gone after Raven because of her, but now it appeared the one they had placed in his path had more than their blessing. He had extra protection. Her protection.
“You don’t need to see it,” Ciaran said as if she was some fragile flower. If only she could laugh.
“I need to see it.”
“We can bury him properly if that’s your wish, but—”
“My wish is to see him!” she yelled, and a lightning bolt struck a few feet away. The horses reared and Logan barely managed to control his.
“What the hell!”
“What do you think?”
“You are doing this?”
“No, the fairies are!” She struggled for control. “I’ve told you I’m not Natalie, many times.”
“Alright,” Ciaran finally agreed, but when they tried to leave, they encountered another problem—Burt was waiting near the gates, refusing to let them pass unless they took him and a few men.
It was the last thing she needed—a fight, once they saw how things were. So, after a talk, they decided on letting her go with Ciaran, if Logan stayed behind. No one was overly happy about the arrangement, especially not Ciaran, but Amira was adamant.
The moment they rode off, he tried to question her, but when it became crystal clear that she was deaf to everything except her own troubling thoughts, silence settled between them. All the way to the woods, she fought with the gnawing feeling inside her. She struggled with the knot tightly wedged inside her throat she couldn’t seem to swallow. She wrestled with the shakiness in her hands. Amira was afraid she would crumble when she saw him lifeless. Yet when she did, an utter calm washed over her.
There was something so eerie about death, but at the same time so natural, she found herself somewhere between worlds. Somewhere where the earth was frozen and yet, everything breathed—death. It was everywhere. In the shadow of the fallen tree, in the hollow of the knap, in the grain of sand. Everything reeked of it.
Slowly, she approached his cold body, kneeled, and took his face in her palms. Shadow’s words were playing in her head but she didn’t need to ask herself if she had the courage to pay the price. She didn’t think she had the courage not to.
“I need a minute alone.” She lifted her head and this time she didn’t encounter resistance. Ciaran simply nodded and stepped aside, leaving her free to make a deal with the devil himself.
“Took you long enough,” Dazlog’s towering figure appeared without much drama. Without her even uttering his name. He simply walked out of thin air, clad in black pants and shirt—he seemed so normal. But then, his pale green amethyst eyes flared, and the effect was stronger than if he’d emerged from a storm of cracking lightning, in a robe, or if the earth had split open and he’d appeared riding a pair of hell-hounds. “An hour more and I wouldn’t have been able to help you.”
Amira closed her eyes briefly, digesting yet another of her crimes. If she had lifted her spell ear
lier, or if she hadn’t put it in the first place, Ciaran would have found her quicker. Maybe … just maybe she would have been in time to—
“You wouldn’t have made it in time, so stop eating at yourself.” The demon approached as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “But I can only hold his soul for so long, you know. I need your decision.”
“What do you want of me?” She focused her eyes on the face she held in her arms, refusing to let him go for a single second.
“A binding oath and nothing less.”
“Binding me to what?” Maybe Dazlog was not in any hurry, but the way everyone was seeming to stall everything today was getting on her nerves.
“Three simple things.” He leaned against the tree so casually, every hair on Amira’s nape stood up. She didn’t care for his nonchalance one bit. It didn’t bode well for her.
“Name them,” she said, determined as ever.
“First, the prophecy. Second, the essence of the power. Third, he’s not to know of any of this.” As if this made any sense, Amira thought.
“Since you are so distraught right now, and apparently your brains are fried, I’ll try to simplify this for you. First…” Dazlog repeated, pushing himself off the tree and crouching near her, “…I need you to fulfill the prophecy, and since I would rather it be this century, I’ll help you again—when he’s awake, find out what he keeps hidden, and through that, you’ll know what to do next. Second—once the prophecy is fulfilled, whatever power you gain, I want the essence of it. And third—he cannot know what happened, otherwise, he’ll die. And this is not my rule, in case you were wondering, so don’t blame me for the difficulties it raises.”
And it did raise difficulties, Amira realized. How was she to explain this? How was she to hide the fact that he had died—she was sure he would know it deep in his soul. These things were not that easily forgettable.
What idiot made that rule? she all but swore, lifting her eyes to the demon.
“Don’t curse me. I only break the rules.” He flashed his pearly-whites so innocently, she clenched her jaws. “I don’t make them. But I have the utmost belief in your craftiness. Once you are through with him—”
“Once I’m through with him, he’ll know I was lying.”
“Ah yes, there is that pesky little bond you two share, isn’t there? But worry not, I’ll even help you again. And this time, free of charge.”
“What are you up to?” quizzed Amira, not liking the sound of it. It was better to know what she was getting herself into; but honestly, what more could he want?
“All the while you question me, the time is running short,” Dazlog said instead of answering. “So what is it going to be? Do I have your oath, or do I not?” he asked as he conjured up a glowing sphere in his palm. Amira gasped—it was Raven’s very soul he held.
Everything vanished. She no longer cared what the demon might do with the essence of her power. Her decision was made.
“You have it,” she uttered. “But I want your oath that no harm will come to him. No harm caused by supernatural powers,” she corrected her desire, knowing that no one could evade natural death if it was their time. “Directly, or indirectly.”
“You strike a mean bargain,” Dazlog laughed. “But I’ll keep to my end of the deal if you’ll keep to yours,” he promised, and with those words Raven took a shuddering breath. Overjoyed, she hugged him, almost missing the last words of the demon.
You’ll experience one small side effect though—but worry not, my sweet, it’s all in the plan.
Chapter 25
Raven was dreaming. He was floating in the air. Only there was no air. No ground. Nothing. He couldn’t even feel his own body. He simply knew he was. And at the same time he wasn’t.
He saw Amira. He saw her brothers. He saw how he was shot, and how he went down. Each and every scene repeating over and over again. Faster and faster until there was only a blur.
“Took you long enough!” he heard a whisper echoing all around. He turned. But there was nothing. No person, no creature. Only a void, and the echo of a deep rumble.
Raven couldn’t hear the answer, but he was certain the voice was not addressing him. He couldn’t even hear his own voice as he shouted. Where the hell was he?
“A binding oath and nothing less.” The same voice rang out again. And again Raven couldn’t hear the answer. Why was he here? Who was speaking? And whose was the voice he couldn’t hear? For a long, long time there was only silence, screaming so loudly in his ears, it hurt. He had a feeling, though, that the conversation was continuing.
“Once I’m through with him,” finally came an answer. “You have it…” he heard the haunted voice of … Amira.
Raven jerked awake at the sound of a roaring thunder, then collapsed on the bed with a groan. The pain that shot through him had been so sudden and sharp, he could have sworn he was seeing stars right then.
The lights faded one by one, abandoning him in a room steeped in darkness. A few seconds later it was illuminated by a flash of lightning. The storm bellowed outside the window—the cadence of nature’s fury in sync with the rhythm of his heart.
It resonated in his ears, making it impossible for him to remember anything at first. No matter how much he struggled. But then, fragments of the strangest dream he’d ever had assailed his mind—each of them emphasized by the wild, tameless beat of nature’s music.
Could it be a memory? he wondered. Maybe he’d been semi-conscious when Amira had conversed with that being. Except, it didn’t add up. His last real recollection, before darkness had swallowed him whole, was of a crystal clear conviction that he’d reached the end.
Frowning, Raven made an effort to push himself up. His second attempt went more smoothly and he managed to sit up. Slowly, he pulled the covers away and looked down. His abdomen was bandaged—a single blood spot was showing on his right side. He touched the spot, gritting his teeth, and pulled his hand away. He didn’t have to examine further to know the wound was still there. Which meant Amira wasn’t.
In the core of his being he knew she wouldn’t have left him injured if she’d seen it. Had she left him altogether? The mere possibility tore his heart out.
Raven shifted in his bed, trying to settle more comfortably, and by turning his head, noticed a small piece of metal lying on the wooden surface. He stretched his hand towards it and grabbed. He rolled it between his fingers, remembering the incident—this small piece of metal could have ended everything. But, he was still alive, and before he left this world he had a few things to take care of.
All of them involved first moving and getting up.
He shifted again, trying to rearrange his body and reach for the clothes, but that proved to be too much of a challenge. His muscles felt strangely numb, while the wound throbbed. For now, he had to be satisfied with the progress he’d made—though satisfied was hardly the word he would’ve used.
Raven was sore, thirsty, a bit dizzy, confused, frustrated; yet everything else paled against the need to see her face. He had to … his thoughts were interrupted as he heard footsteps approaching. The door swung open to reveal Martha and Amira standing side by side. His heart almost leaped out of his chest with joy. He waited for her to enter, say a word, anything, but she just kept standing. Looking at him.
Something inside him twisted as the happiness he experienced in seeing her melted into worry. Then, he remembered her pain-filled eyes, and an idea struck his mind—she needed to know he was done with keeping secrets. And there was only one way he knew she would understand. For the first time in his life, Raven opened all the locked doors.
He never imagined he would do such a thing. Never considered or thought what would happen if he did, but the possibility, that she might refuse to cross the virtual threshold the way she refused to cross the actual one, would have never permeated his mind.
Raven reached out, determined to dig down to the truth, no matter how unpleasant it could be, and smashed straight into a wall. T
he connection they had always seemed to share was no more. He couldn’t feel her as he used to. He couldn’t…
Their eyes met and he gasped. Amira’s gaze was cold as the winter’s night. Distant as the moon itself. Whoever the woman standing in front of him was, she was not his angel. She was not the woman he’d held in his arms.
Raven had an overwhelming urge to shake her. He wanted to demand an explanation, but instead he just watched, afraid to look away. Afraid to accept what was right in front of him.
He had to be hallucinating, he decided. No one changed that much in the space of a day. Raven refused to believe the hollowness inside him was the real answer. He refused! Yet, when he sank deeper in his bed, the pain stabbed strangely not at his wounded side, but at his heart.
“…once I’m through with him…”
He had a sudden flash of panic—the possibility of everything he had come to love about her being a lie—Raven rejected it instantly. There had to be another explanation.
“…once I’m through with him…”
He was torn asunder by the force of his own emotions, while she was standing there as if nothing had ever happened. Looking at his wound.
“…once I’m through with him…”
He would never have asked her to heal him, but for a woman who saved every stray dog and wolf…
“…once I’m through with him…”
Raven could barely breathe as the same words rang over and over in his head. The silence in the room became too loud. The beat of his heart—too fast.
“…once I’m through with him…”
No! There had to be an explanation, he insisted. It didn’t matter how illogical it sounded—Raven was convinced the woman in front of him was not Amira. He refused to listen to all the doubts strangling him from inside.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded.
“You don’t remember us?” It was Martha who answered. Amira kept silent.
“Oh I remember,” Raven assured her. “Your brothers attempting to murder me is one of my fonder memories,” he sneered as he focused on Amira, waiting for any kind of reaction; and witnessed her go pale as a sheet of paper.
Till Death And Beyond (Witch World) Page 22