by Theresa Kay
But Trel? She is an entirely different matter. Before now I thought of her as a potential ally; our shared childhood and grief over Kov meant we shared the same goals. But she also shares a type of grief with her father—that of having one’s bondmate killed by humans—and it is that commonality she chooses to focus on.
And the rest of my people? Lost in Vitrad’s lies, every tenet of peace my father upheld with years of reason and diplomacy destroyed.
The near hopelessness of the fight ahead weighs heavily on my shoulders. Exposing Vitrad. Protecting my sister. And getting back to Jax. Bond or no bond, she is my future, and I will not let her go again.
I FALL TO MY knees at Jace’s side and gather his limp form closer. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Whether he can hear my chanted thoughts, I don’t know. The bright red thread of our connection, normally so easily accessed, is dark and stunted. Even with my eyes closed, I can’t get a good grip on it. I’ll have to settle for this, rocking his torso slowly back and forth in rhythm with my apologies.
And then I tumble into my brother’s mind.
In the black behind my eyelids our roles are reversed, and it’s Jace who rocks my blood-covered form. It’s his tears, his strangled sobs echoing off the cabin’s walls around us.
Then I see a clearing in the woods. A silver ship with a raven-haired boy on the cargo ramp. Different woods and different clearing and the knife flies from my hand to lodge first in a thigh (disable it) and then the blade runs down a scaled back (interrogate it) and much, much later across a bruised and bloody throat (dispatch it). The hands that deliver the small, silver object over Dane’s desk are clean again, but only on the surface. Underneath and inside, it’s nothing but the darkness of self-hatred and despair with only two dim lights to pierce it, one red and one blue. But the lights are fading, growing dimmer and farther away as something darker creeps along the edge. Something that will soon grow large enough to eclipse them both.
When I finally return to my own mind, I’m curled up next to Jace on the double bed in the room he shares with Flint. And Flint is there, too, his bright blue eyes studying my face, relief etched across his features. From the silence, things must have calmed down a bit. There’s no more yelling, my breathing is steady, and that raging fire no longer burns along my nerves. But Jace is still out cold, and the guilt twisting my stomach won’t let me do anything but continue to lie there and hold his hand.
It’s not his physical pain that bothers me, even though I know I’m the one who caused that. It’s the absolute anguish he’s kept locked inside for so very long. I knew he didn’t want to kill anyone. I knew he did it anyway. But before now I’d never really understood that it had all been for me. Sure, Flint had tried to explain it to me, back when I was here at Peter’s with Lir. But it took being there, living in Jace’s thoughts, for me to truly get it. Jace gave up everything for me, even his own sense of self-worth, and even though he’s put on a pretty good show lately, that’s all it was. He’s as broken as I am, barely holding it together, and I took every opportunity to jump down his throat, to complain, to—
“Stop it,” says Flint. At my quizzical look he continues, “Blaming yourself. I know exactly what you’re doing. I can practically see the words floating above your head.”
“But—”
Flint holds up a hand. “But nothing. Jastren says he’s going to be okay.”
“He’s in so much pain and—”
“And it’s not all your fault, Jax.” He sighs, bows his head, and rubs the back of his neck. “He’s going to be fine.”
I shake my head. “I’m not talking about what I did. I’m talking about—”
“I know what you’re talking about.” His eyes close and his hands curl into fists in his lap. A breath puffs past his lips as he raises his face. “I heard it. I heard you. When you were… in his head. I doubt anyone else understood what was going on, but when you started babbling about knives and DID…” Another sigh. “I figured it out.”
“DID?” I scoot up into a sitting position, never releasing Jace’s hand.
“Disable. Interrogate. Dispatch. It’s what you would call my father’s standard operating procedure for hostiles or prisoners.” He leans forward and rests his forehead in his palm. “Jace told me some of it, but I didn’t…” He trails off, shaking his head then glancing up at me. “I used to blame you for it. The anger. How he was. I feel awful for that now. You’ve been through just as much. And Jace… he’ll be okay.”
There’s no question in his voice, but in his eyes I can see the plea for reassurance he refuses to let leak into his words. So I nod and force the edges of my lips up. I did do the same thing to Rym that I’ve just done to Jace, and Rym seems okay. A little more skittish around me, but overall he’s fine. My brother will survive, too. This time my nod is stronger, steadier, and my smile is real—not huge, but not forced, either.
This isn’t like my last experience with the darkness. There’s no lingering effect, no salivating monster in my head. Just a quiet peace. I took Jace’s anger from him out in the living room. Did he take mine when he touched me? Or maybe I gave it to him?
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and rise to my feet, then turn back to pull a blanket over Jace. “How long was I out?”
Flint shrugs. “Not long. Five minutes or so.”
“We should probably go out there then. I’m sure they’ve been having some interesting conversations without us.”
Flint huffs out a laugh and runs his hand over his face. “Yeah.” He stands and pulls the door open, gesturing for me to go out ahead of him.
As I pass, I poke him with my elbow. “Sending me into the lion’s den first, huh?”
“Sure am.” He pokes me back and winks.
When we stroll out to the living room, every eye turns to us. Peter looks relieved. A wary suspicion tinges Lenny’s eyes, and Stu is just plain livid, but in such a subtle way that if I didn’t recognize the tightness in his shoulders and his fists clenched at his sides I might have never known. Jastren is Jastren, impassive as ever with the slightest hint of disappointment.
Disappointed that Jace is hurt? More likely disappointed that I’m alive.
They’re all unnervingly silent. Is this all they’ve been doing for the past few minutes? Sitting here shooting suspicious glances at each other? And I thought I was the unsocial one.
Jastren stands and gestures toward the table. “Jasmine, sit.” The withering glare he sends me when I open my mouth kills the retort resting on my tongue.
I sit.
Assuming a position behind my chair, Jastren places one hand on my shoulder. I can’t help it; I flinch. Apparently my nerves aren’t quite as steady as I’ve led myself to believe. When my breathing picks up, Jastren digs his fingers into my shoulder. “Calm yourself,” he says, a barely concealed warning in his tone.
The pain from his bony fingers pressing against my collarbone gives me something to ground myself. I shrug out of his hold. “I’m fine.”
It’s Peter who hops to his feet and starts bustling around first. Never one to keep quiet, he starts chattering immediately. “Well then, I believe some sort of introductions are in order now that Jax has… well, now that she’s here, yes? Leonard, Stuart, this is Jastren Reva. You’ve met Jax, and you know me, I’m Father Peter, or Peter, whichever you’re more comfortable with. The other two young men are Jace, uh, he’s the one who isn’t feeling well, and Flint, his um…”
“His friend.” Jastren’s tone leaves no room for argument.
“Yes, yes. Jace’s friend Flint. And—”
Stu stands up. “I don’t care who’s who. Somebody needs to explain what that damned erk is doing here.”
Jastren’s lip curls. “I suggest you sit back down and show a little more respect. I agree that explanations are in order,” he sends a pointed look at me, “but the hostility is not necessary.”
Stu takes a step forward. “Listen here—”
Seeing Jace’s speed earlier d
idn’t prepare me for seeing Jastren dart across the room almost as fast as Tiercel can dive. In an instant Jastren is in Stu’s face, batting his hand out of the way and leaning forward until they’re practically nose to nose. “Perhaps I should rephrase that. Sit. Back. Down.”
Stu sits.
Jastren strides back to the table to stand behind me. “Now, Jasmine, please explain who I am and what I am doing here.”
Uhhh… Does he want me to tell them about what I am? What Jace is? Because explaining who Jastren is would do that. “Jastren is…” My eyes dart around the room. It’d be awful nice to have that link now so I knew what the hell my grandfather wanted from me. “Jastren is…”
An annoyed huff comes from behind me. “Biologically speaking, I am Jace and Jasmine’s grandfather.”
Stu jerks but stays seated. Lenny simply looks intrigued. He studies my face, and I can almost see his brain cataloging my features, trying to put it together. But I don’t look E’rikon. My hair’s a little redder than is typical, but I bleed red, I don’t have any scales, and my eyes are a normal hazel. I shift in my seat uncomfortably and stare down at the table.
“Certainly explains a bit,” says Lenny slowly. “But it doesn’t quite explain what yer doin’ here and it sure as hell doesn’t explain why I shouldn’t just blow both yer brains out where you sit.”
Okay, so maybe Lenny isn’t quite as smart as I thought. It’s got to be obvious to him that no one in this room is a match for Jastren, at least not speed-wise. And with Lenny’s injuries? He’s not going anywhere, so his threat is worse than empty—it’s foolish.
Jastren scoffs and glares at Lenny. “Neither of you is going to do anything.”
It’s a standoff. The two men—or is it one man and one E’rikon?—stare at each other, each waiting for the other to break. Lenny looks away first, his body shuddering from another coughing fit.
This fit isn’t like the others. This one keeps going until Lenny is bent forward over his knees with his shoulders jerking, his lungs struggling for air. The wet sucking noise coming from deep inside his chest is not a good sign. Even I know that.
Stu glances back and forth between his father and Jastren, the color slowly leaving his face. The anger in his wide-eyed gaze is gone, replaced with a growing uneasiness and something almost like resignation. He closes his eyes and presses his forehead into his palm. “I’m done running. Do whatever it is you’re going to do…” His voice grows harder. “Just know that you won’t get away with it. This is our planet, and somehow we’ll take it back from you erk assholes.”
Does he think we’re going to—
“Very well then,” says Jastren, his eyes narrowed.
“No!” I shoot up out of the chair as the protest leaves my lips. I don’t know who looks more shocked: Jastren or Stu. “There’s been enough death,” I say. “There doesn’t need to be any more.” That argument brings raised eyebrows from both of them. “Besides, I… I made an agreement.”
“Jasmine…” The chiding in Jastern’s tone only feeds my determination.
“I agreed to help. I—”
“You agreed in exchange for information you do not need. Why would you want to assist these creatures? Did they not lock you up? Threaten to sell you?”
“They were doing what they needed to do to survive!” The second the words are past my lips, I find Peter’s gaze. He said almost the same thing to me yesterday, but I didn’t really understand what he meant until this moment. The world has fallen apart, and everyone’s doing what’s necessary to stay alive, but what’s living without something to hope for? It’s clear to me that Stu’s hope, his reason for living, was his little brother—the one I took from him. It’s not Lenny, who was probably already jaded long before now, but Stu whom I owe for Zach’s death.
Yet as much as my internal argument is convincing me that I’m right, it’s Jastren who needs the convincing. I take a deep breath. “If our only focus is survival, then we’re no better than them. Without compassion—without forgiveness—we’re nothing but animals.”
“Perhaps that is the way with humans, but the E’rikon way does not allow for such weaknesses.” Jastren draws the last word out in a hiss and leans closer to me. Stupid, insolent girl! The words slam into me, the first clear broadcast I’ve ever gotten from Jastren, and I recoil.
“Then maybe I don’t want to be E’rikon!” My words pulse with anger. I shove past Jastren and out the back door.
I’M DOWN THE STEPS and into the woods before I even realize it’s started snowing. Great. Just what we need right now. My boots are already crunching through about an inch of the white stuff. If it gets too deep, the trip to Bridgelake is going to be a real pain. We’ll have the truck, but there are only so many seats, and no one will want to sit in the back and freeze. And that’s if the roads are still intact the entire way there. I wouldn’t know since my trip here from Bridgelake was on foot through the woods.
Driving is not optional now though. Not with Jace’s injured leg. What if we were to get way out there and run into a problem? Jace can hobble around the cabin well enough, as evidenced by his quick movements earlier, but he won’t be able to handle much more than that.
A lopsided circle in the snow details my pacing as the thoughts and worries keep hitting. What if Bridgelake’s not there when we get there? And what if it is? What will Dane do? I disobeyed his orders, broke almost every rule imaginable, and I’m going to show up like nothing happened?
There’s not really much choice though, is there?
A hand on my arm stills my steps, and I lean in to it for a second before realizing my brother is still passed out and the hand’s owner is too tall to be Flint or Peter. Without thinking, I throw my elbow back; there’s a grunt as it lands in someone’s stomach. I spin around to find myself looking at Stu. “What are you doing out here?”
He takes a step back, eyes narrowed. “What was all that back there? Some sort of show?”
“Show?”
His voice turns caustic. “Did you mean any of that? Or were you just hoping to lure me out here so your… erk could get my father out of the way? You know what? It doesn’t matter. I don’t give a damn about that old man. He’s never done anything but cause pain.”
“Then why’d you bother to drag him all the way here?” As soon as the words are out I want to snatch them back. Lenny is his father. Who am I to question the validity of his loyalty? I’d follow my brother pretty much anywhere.
His response is not what I expect. “I didn’t do it for him. I did it for Peter.” That statement is said in a quiet tone, but then his voice turns back to a rigid sarcasm. “Seems like Peter was just fine though, huh? How is it that you murdered my little brother but let the old man live?”
I shake my head and swallow back the lump of guilt that’s nearly choking me. My voice wavers as I search for the right words. “I didn’t—”
“You’re denying it?” He steps forward, his whole body instantly going tense and redness creeping up his neck. Obviously my word choice was awful.
“No.” One deep breath. “I didn’t know he was there to help. And… I didn’t mean to.” Stu doesn’t move forward, but he doesn’t relax either, so I continue. “You saw it back there. How Jace was. It’s something from that other part of us, the alien part. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“In other words, you’re completely unbalanced? Like a rabid animal? There’s only one thing you can do with a rabid animal.” He stalks forward until he’s looking down at me and his chest is only a few inches from mine. Then he leans down and whispers his next words directly into my ear. “Put. It. Down.”
At any other time, with someone so close to me whispering threats in my ear, I’d give in to the instinct and let the darker part of me take over. I’d defend myself with anger and rage and fear. But not now. Instead I curl my hands into fists, dig my nails into my palms, and push those feelings away. I’m not a bad person. I’m not an animal. That means I have to control
the darkness, not let it control me. My breathing is ragged and my heart pounds in my chest, but I still manage to force my lips into movement. “I am not that person anymore. I can control it now.”
“Too late for Zach though, isn’t it?” His voice is pure rage, but a deep pain radiates from his eyes.
I open my mouth to respond, to apologize, to something… but Flint’s voice breaks in before I can. “It’s about to be too late for you if you don’t back up off of her. Just because she can control it, doesn’t mean that she should.”
“And what’s it to you? You taking over the erk’s sloppy seconds?” Stu steps away from me and puffs his chest out.
Flint strides into the clearing, shoulders back and jaw tensed. “She’s my friend, that’s what. You and your father locked her up and threatened to sell her. You can’t blame her for defending herself. Now leave her alone.”
All Stu’s venom gets turned on Flint. “She killed my brother. I’ll do whatever I want.”
Five more steps and Flint pushes back on one of Stu’s shoulders. “I told you to back off.”
Stu angles his body and sneers. “And I told you—”
“Stop it!” With one hand on each of their chests I push the boys away from each other. Unbidden, a little extra something sizzles down my arms and through my fingertips, adding a zap to my touch and sending them both backward about three feet. Stu looks at me with confusion and a little fear, while Flint’s eyes widen slightly.
“What was that?” asks Flint.
“I don’t know.” Two months of working with Jastren, two months of struggling to harness the powers that come along with my alien heritage, gave me nothing. But today I’ve added at least three new tricks to my repertoire and I’ve at least partially linked with Jastren. What’s different? Could these be aftereffects of seeing Lir again, of linking with him again? No. The first new ability developed on the way to the city, not after.
“I need to talk to Jastren,” I say. And I take off back toward the cabin before either boy can say another word.