Redemption (The Alexa Montgomery Saga)

by H. D. Gordon

  “I love you, Kayden,” I said, realizing only as the words came out that I had only said this to him a couple times, and always in a timid, almost reluctant whisper. Never had I said it so loudly and easily, so simply. And it felt like a right turn in world built of wrongs.

  Kayden smiled a fuller smile that I had ever seen him give, his fangs just visible. “I should certainly hope so, Warrior,” he said.

  I gave him a little nudge and was just about to offer a smart comment when I heard voices coming from the sitting room just up ahead. Unsure as to why I was doing it, I pulled Kayden to a stop outside of the open door before he could step into view, holding a finger up to my mouth to tell him to stay quiet. Kayden was good at being quiet. We stood there and listened.

  The voices were instantly recognizable, even if they were the strained voices of those having a heated argument. The words drifted out quietly, and I could tell that the speakers were doing their best to keep their voices low. I leaned against the wall and concentrated on my hearing, and the words became clear to me.

  Camillia said, “Just let me explain, Sil.”

  Silvia: “What is there to be explained? You lied to me. You told me that Bethany was killed by the Accursed. You didn’t tell me that it was the Sun Warrior’s sister who killed her. You didn’t tell me that the Sun Warrior even had a sister, let alone that she was one of them. How could you expect me to be okay with letting Bethany’s murderer into my home? Oh, you didn’t, right? That’s why you lied.”

  Camillia: “No, you don’t understand—”

  Silvia: “What don’t I understand? Stop treating me like I’m an idiot. You are protecting that girl, even after what she did. It’s your fault that Bethany died. Roy trusted you with his child after his death. You promised him that you would protect her with your life, and now you have to live with the fact that the last piece of our brother is dead, too.”

  The sound of tears, then. The sobs of the heartbroken. I couldn’t tell who they belong to.

  Camillia’s voice, cracked: “Nelliana is the Savior.”

  Silence. My heart hit the cold floor at my feet. I had sort of guessed that Camillia knew this, as well as the other people Nelly had “touched” when she was escaping Two Rivers, but I had never heard any of them speak the knowledge out loud before.

  Bated breath, and then, Silvia: “What do you mean she is the Savior? That’s ridiculous.”

  Camillia: “Is it? The prophecy says that a girl who is the only one of her kind will liberate the people. Maybe it’s just that everyone was wrong all these years when we assumed that the Savior would be a Sun Warrior.”

  A very unladylike snort. Silvia: “Prophecies. Just nonsense uttered by crazy old men. Just because some loon predicted that she would save her people, you want me to somehow be okay with the knowledge that she murdered my only niece?”

  Camillia: “No, I want you to think about all the people that are suffering, about all the people she can help. I want you to think about the greater good, Sil…And yes, if it makes you feel better, she is said to die in the end.”

  My heart seemed to be pounding in my ears, and for a moment or two, when nothing but silence wafted out of the sitting room, I feared Silvia and Camillia might hear it, and my presence would be known. Then Silvia spoke again.

  A sigh. “I suppose that does comfort me. Marginally. But you had better keep an eye on her, Cam. The entire city is uneasy knowing that an Accursed walks among us.”

  Camillia: “I’m pretty sure our entire world is uneasy right about now.”

  The rustle of clothing as they stood up. Kayden tugged on my arm, saying that we should go before we were caught, but I held up a hand to him, and he waited without protest.

  Sniffles and more rustles. Camillia: “We need to get some rest. More people will be arriving soon. Lines have been drawn.” A pause. “I need to know that you will let the girl be, that you’re on the same side of the line that I’m on, Sil.”

  A scoff. “Don’t be stupid. Of course I’m on the same side as you. Where else would I be? But you will have to tell the others about her being the Savior. You can’t expect them to go into this war without knowing that. They can’t go on believing that the Sun Warrior is the chosen one. If they let Alexa lead them into battle without the Accursed girl, they will be slaughtered. They must know that Nelliana is willing to make the sacrifice.”

  A long pause. It seemed that no one was even breathing, including me. Then, Camillia: “I will. Today, when all the others arrive. I’m sure Gabriel and Olivia will be very interested to hear it.”

  Silvia: “Oh, I’m sure everyone will be very interested to hear it.”

  Another tug from Kayden, and this time I agreed. We moved off quickly back in the direction of the room where Nelly waited, the thought of cheeseburgers and French fries all but forgotten. When we reached the green door of the room Silvia had given us, I took Kayden’s hand and pulled him past it and down to the door in the hall that led to the gardens outside. The day seemed to be brightening at a sickeningly fast pace. The crust of the sun was just visible above the line of enormous red maple trees in the distance. And my panic seemed to be rising with it.

  We have to kill the Queen, Warrior, and her sister. And we have to do it now. They are planning to tell the revolutionaries that Nelly is the true Savior. They plan to throw her into a battle where the price of victory is her life. If ever there was a time where she needed us most, this is it. We have to keep her from this fate. It is our greatest purpose, always has been and always will be. It was what we were born and raised for. Those two plotting bitches have to die. The day grows as we speak.

  “I know, I know, I know. You don’t think I know that, for shit’s sake? But the people are already jumping onto one side or the other. Some of them already don’t trust us. How, oh genius Monster, are we supposed to kill them and not have that come back bad for Nelly?”

  Good question.

  “No shit.”

  “Warrior,” Kayden said, taking my hand and pulling me from my thoughts. His golden eyes regarded me carefully. He leaned in close and spoke so only I could hear him. “Are you thinking about murder?”

  I gritted my teeth in an effort to control the tone of my voice. “Are my eyes glowing wolf-gold?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then what the hell do you think?” I snapped. Then I forced myself to take a deep, seemingly useless breath and let it out. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you, but since you asked,” I looked around, making sure we were alone, “yes, I am thinking about murder. I’m thinking about murder very much right now. Are you surprised?”

  Kayden shook his head. “Not at all. But I’m thinking that you know as well as I do that you cannot just kill Silvia and Camillia.”

  “And why is that?” I asked, though I knew damn well the answer.

  Kayden crossed his arms over his chest and gave me an exasperated look. “Let’s see. One, because in the Outlands if violence occurs between those who were allowed admittance, the magic that keeps the bad things out would fade and be broken.” He tilted his head to the side, and I found that I want to slap him upside it for being so right. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. “And, two,” he continued, “because there are too many that would like to see your sister’s head on spike just for being what she is. You honestly think you can help her by killing her hosts?” He paused. “Is that enough reasons, or shall I continue?”

  “I love you,” I said. “But I seriously want to punch you in the face right now. Sorry about that, but I do. So, by all means, my love, continue at your own discretion.”

  Kayden said nothing, only stared at me knowing that his point was taken.

  I cursed once under my breath. “What am I supposed to do then? Just let them talk her into leading a war that ends with her dead. You have to know that I can’t do that, Kayden. So, what, please tell me, what am I supposed to do?”

  I didn’t really expect much of an answer,
just a “we will figure it out” or something, but a look flashed behind his eyes that told me that he did have an answer, not just an answer, but a solution. And my heart simultaneously jumped in my chest and broke as I saw that it pained him to have to give it to me. We both knew what it meant if I took Nelly’s place.

  But, Kayden loved me. Really, and truly and unselfishly loved me, and he would give me my answer. “Arrol,” he said.

  My brow furrowed. “What about him?”

  Kayden came forward and took my shoulders into his large hands. His lion’s eyes glowed with a devotion that made my belly ache, and he said, “We have to take him up on the Seer’s offer. We have to send Nelly into the White World.”

  Nelly

  “How does this work?” I asked.

  Surah was leaning over the round table by the windows, daylight streaming in and shimmering off her black cloak. The stars that had been hidden there in folds of black velvet were revealed, and they rippled gently as her gloved hands set about their tasks. She rolled up the sleeves of her black shirt to reveal her forearms, covered haphazardly with crude, painful-looking black tattoos shaped like individual slash marks. The tattoos seemed so out of place on her delicate, creamy arms, just as alien as Alexa’s silver lilies. My sister had mistaken my sympathy for the Sorceress girl as trust. I did not trust Surah. At this point, I didn’t truly trust anyone other than Alexa.

  Surah’s voice was soft and feminine, and she didn’t look up from the objects she arranged on the small table. “I am going to combine two spells, neither of them simple, so I am going to need your silence when I actually get going.” She paused then and sighed, as if she didn’t want to share the next part with me. “The first spell will be a Tracker, so that I can find the location of your King at this moment. When I find him, I will attempt the second spell–a Prospect–which, if I am able, will allow me to see through the eyes of those nearest your King right now.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to jump into his head?” I asked. “What will the eyes of others tell us? It’s not like he is going to have I know what happened to the Sorcerer stamped on his head.”

  Surah spun around on her heels, her long cloak fluttering silently. Her deceivingly gentle face was as unreadable as ever, but her purple eyes glowed with anger. I didn’t take a step back, just stood there staring at her, but I could tell that Tommy, who was standing beside me, was tense.

  “Because,” she said, “I am not you. I can’t just reach into people’s heads and pluck out information like I was searching through a file cabinet. And you would be surprised how much you can learn from looking at someone the way everyone else perceives them.” She placed a gloved hand on her hip. “I’m trying to work with you here, Puppet Master. Nothing will stop me from finding out what happened to my brother and, if he is indeed dead, then killing his murderer. You say your King is responsible for his disappearance,” she smiled, “and I am pretty good at knowing when someone is lying, maybe not as adeptly as you, but pretty good. I did not have the pleasure of speaking directly to your King about my brother. My father did, so I didn’t get the chance to gauge his words. And really, you should consider this a favor. You’re at war, correct? I’m going to show you what your King is up to.”

  I nodded once. Surah spun around again and resumed moving about her vials and little bowls and poultices. “Sorceress,” I said, and Surah’s shoulders tightened a fraction as she glanced back at me. I met her gaze head-on. “He is not my King.”

  A small smile tilted the side of her mouth that was visible, and then she turned back to her work. “No,” she said. “I suppose he is not.” She examined the objects, as if double-checking her preparation. “I am ready now. Silence.”

  Tommy took my hand and guided me to a seated position on the bed. Then he sat down beside me. I squeezed his hand as I waited for whatever was going to happen next to happen. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but it sure as salt wasn’t what I got next.

  Surah raised her hands in front of her, rippling her black cloak and making it shimmer like drops of water in a silver stream of a dark sky. Her next words were the only she spoke for the entire duration of the spell, and the toneless, almost dead way that she delivered them made a chill walk up my spine.

  She said, “Don’t be afraid.”

  The room seemed to fill up with the presence of something that I had never known before. It was as if the air had become a tangible thing–if I reached my fingers out to stroke it that it would ripple like the surface of a lake. There was an unseen heat that pressed against the exposed skin of my arms and neck and face. Time seemed suspended in a warped zone, where even my heart ceased to beat in my chest, but my eyes widened in wonder as I took in the spectacle that was before me, by far the most enthralling of all the sensory shifts.

  Out of Surah’s hands a blue mist rose, shot through with white flashes like tiny lightning bolts. It rose with all the wonder and terribleness of a mega-storm, like watching miniature thunderheads build before me. I shut my eyes then, trying to slow the harsh breaths that were pushing in and out of me. Something as bright as sunbeams lit the inside of my eyelids an unnatural pink, and I opened my eyes slowly, willing myself to watch Surah’s magic. It felt very much like peeking into a coffin–a helplessly morbid curiosity. By the end of the spell, I would come to the conclusion that it was exactly like that; like staring into an unexpected grave.

  The room seemed to fill to the top with the images, like hundreds of movie screens suspended in the air and playing different portions of the same story. One was the image of a woman sitting at what seemed to be her dining room table, a cup of untouched steaming liquid set in front of her. Her hair and clothing were disheveled. Her brown eyes dull and staring at nothing, and there seemed to be an invisible weight on her shoulders, like someone who is about to crumble under the weight of the world.

  To my left was a man staring up at something, a bowler hat clutched against his fine suit jacket over his heart. No tears fell from his eyes, but the hurt behind them made it clear that this was only because of enormous self-control. I looked to the place where those tired, broken eyes were directed, and at first could not comprehend what they were seeing. Then it dawned on me in a wave of horror as I saw what it was. A row of tall wooden spikes back-dropped by a wide river, each with a fresh severed head speared at the top like spoiled hors d’oeuvres.

  I tore my eyes away only to have them settle on another image, this one of King William himself. He looked to be sitting in a car, the scene outside of his window passing by quickly. His old face was set like stone, his cold gray eyes indifferent to the world around him. A profound sense of hate filled me at the image of his bejeweled clothing and jewelry and comfort. Never in my life, not even when the Accursed half of me had taken over, had I wanted so badly to kill someone.

  Another image–this one just a piece of paper, a flier printed black on white and stamped with the King’s seal. I read the words as quickly as my brain could process them, and an involuntary moan escaped my throat. More images, more unseen heat against my skin, more sick and sad faces, more death and devastation. I started sucking in air like a new-born and squeezed my eyes shut once more. My hand gripped Tommy’s like a vice. I wanted to tell him to take me out of here, out of this room filled with dreadful things, but found that I could not speak. If the spell didn’t end soon, I may well just pass right out. The presence that had entered here, the one that had filled me with wonder, had bloomed into a booming, ugly thing, and I wanted out.

  And then it was gone. All of it. The heat, the presence, the sick feeling in my stomach. It disappeared the way worry evaporates when you see that a loved one you’d been fretting over is safe. I peeled my eyes open slowly, afraid that my other senses were playing a trick on me, and that the floating images would still be there. But they were not. The room had returned to its former state, the blue cloud of magic gone, only strengthening sunlight left in its place.

  First I looked over at Tommy, whose norm
ally perfect complexion had gone a little gray, fine beads of sweat broken out across his brow. I looked over at Surah, who was now leaning back against the table where she had performed her work, controlling her harsh breathing with some effort. She stared back at me, her purple eyes having lost the hatred as though it had never been, and replaced it with a double order of sorrow.

  The Sorceress did not speak the thought, nor did I reach into her mind to retrieve it, but it seemed to hang in the air between our gazes. She had read the flier as surely as I had, had read the words the Sorcerer has been stopped, so you needn’t fear him, and she knew as well as I did that her brother was dead.

  What’s more, a good portion of an entire city had been slaughtered.

  Heads on spikes, and King William was blaming me. And Alexa. Who just happened to be returning from the walk I’d sent her on, opening the door to the small room to find us sitting there with I-don’t-know-what kinds of looks on our faces.

  And an equally messed-up look on her own.

  Alexa

  “What happened?” I asked, stepping into the room and leaving Kayden to shut the door behind us.

  It was Surah who answered me, and I was surprised to hear that there was no malice underlining her soft tone. “I will be going now,” she said. “I hope you understand that this matter was not personal.”

  She moved toward the door, and I stepped in front of her. “Wait, what? Where are you going?” I glanced at Nelly over the Sorceress’s cloaked shoulder. “What happened?” I repeated.

  Surah regarded me with forced patience. “Your sister can explain,” she said, stepping around me.

  I moved to block her again, and a warning look flashed behind her eyes. “Get out of my way, Sun Warrior.”

  I narrowed my eyes, my own patience wearing thin. “Like hell,” I said. “You storm in here accusing us of murder and now you think you can just up and leave? What happened to your vendetta? You all of a sudden have somewhere better to be?”