by Nichols, TJ
“I’ll take his place. It’s me you want to punish, so do it.” Angus pushed Lizzie aside and got up.
Syg threw off the trainees and unraveled the whip from around his neck. He glared at Angus as though he judged him unworthy. “We were done anyway.”
Syg grasped Terrance’s wrist and pulled him offstage and into the shadows. There would be no reunion and no chance to talk face-to-face. If he’d kept himself in check, there might’ve been. He could’ve healed Terrance. Apologized. Begged for forgiveness.
Terrance’s cries of pain echoed in his ears. And fury burned in his blood. If they thought he’d cave and obey, they were wrong. They had shown their true face, and it wasn’t one he could work with. Terrance knew that this day was coming. He expected it, but Angus hadn’t thought it would actually happen.
He’d been a fool.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
With Wek at his side, Saka prepared to reach across the sands. He knew the direction, so he could aim his call. Words were still hard to form, but it was getting easier. Although he’d damaged his mind, it was healing. He would be more careful with his next attempt, but he also wanted a result, some good news to share with Angus when he returned in two days.
Wek’s lips were pressed together. She wasn’t happy that he trying again so soon.
Eighteen demons had flooded into the camp earlier today with stories of being captured and then rescued.
An emergency meeting was taking place between the leaders. Tapo was assisting Miniti while Saka would talk to the other head mages. Those meetings would bring no good results. Saka didn’t think the level approach would hold sway for much longer. The demons who wanted blood would get their hands wet.
If only to give them a little more time, not even the full year, Saka needed to make contact with the distant tribe. And he didn’t have long to try before he needed to talk with the mages of Lifeblood.
He pushed his mind into the telestone and out. Magic flowed from the other mages and pushed him further and faster. When he ran out of telestones, he sent his mind and called across the bare sand.
He found only the emptiness of the desert, so he pushed a little further. His mind was hair thin and just as delicate. He could feel the pull of home, as Wek and the other mages sent him their strength.
How long could he wait for a reply? Time had no meaning out there, but his body would tire. If one of the mages weakened, Saka’s mind could break.
Fear almost made him drop back, but then he felt the brush of another mind.
This is Mage Saka of the Lifeblood Mountain tribes, seeking contact with mages from across the sand.
Would the other respond or just flit about the edges?
The magic trembled. He couldn’t maintain it for much longer.
This is Mage Iktan. The mage’s image formed in Saka’s mind. He had no feathers, but unlike any demon Saka had ever seen, he had a long muzzle and elegant horns.
For a moment they assessed each other.
You have reached far, Iktan said.
And I cannot remain for long. I have been searching for others. Does the drying affect you?
Iktan tilted his head and nodded. Our jungle is dying.
Jungle?
Saka’s mind was filled with visions of taller trees than he’d ever seen, lush green hills, and mountains that made Lifeblood look tiny. He responded with what Lifeblood looked like during the rains. There isn’t enough rebalancing.
Our humans rebalance, but others do not. Who do you work with?
Saka hesitated. Vinland wasn’t well liked in the human world—and with good reason. I fear the people aligned with my tribe are causing the problem. We are trying to stop them.
Iktan didn’t respond for a moment, and Saka’s mind started to fray. He had to break the connection soon.
Vinland will be stopped. Then Iktan was gone.
Saka retreated back across the sands. It would be easier next time because he had a name and a face to connect with. He opened his eyes. His lip was wet with blood, but he was upright and awake.
Wek was watching him. “And?”
Saka just nodded. He didn’t know what to make of the conversation with Iktan. Was his tribe a potential ally? Which of Angus’s countries did Iktan’s humans come from?
“I must prepare to talk with the other mages.”
He washed his face, drank, and then resettled himself.
Wek hadn’t moved. “I am not leaving. If you die, we are all in great trouble.”
“Tapo will make a fine head mage.” But he had no plans to die. A simple call to the other head mages wouldn’t kill him.
“We both know he would not be head mage for long.”
That was also true. While Wek might be a very young mage, she was smart when it came to the politics of the tribe… maybe even all of Demonside and Humanside.
Miniti swept into Saka’s tent as he reached for the telestone. Saka paused before his fingers brushed the surface.
Miniti stopped a couple of paces to the side. “My meeting is over. Leave us, Wek.”
Wek got up and left without a backward glance.
Saka looked up at Miniti. She didn’t come in very often. Usually he was summoned to her tent. She looked at the bloodied rag, but she didn’t ask what he’d been doing. She probably assumed it was some ritual or further training for Wek. Wek had passed the trials on Lifeblood, but she still had a lot to learn.
“I have spoken to the others, and while your idea of turning humans against each other had merit and was worth trying, we cannot continue with it, given these new developments.” She paused. “I know you have an affection for Angus, which is why I am telling you in private. Enough mages will concur with our decision. All humans are to be killed. There will be no more working with them.”
Saka couldn’t form words, but it had nothing to do with the brain injury.
Angus would open the void in two days, and the tear would open near Saka. If Saka was with the tribe, the other demons would kill Angus. And Saka had no way to warn him. He didn’t want to think of a world without Angus.
“Angus has done no wrong. He is on our side.” He didn’t know what else to say. Angus wasn’t just his apprentice. He was his friend—his lover. He couldn’t sit by and let him die for the crimes of others. “He rebalances. That is worth more than his death.”
“I’m sorry. There can be no exceptions, no matter how demon he is on the inside.” Miniti turned but then glanced back. “I know you will do what is best for the tribe.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Angus threw another stick on the fire. It wasn’t a big bonfire. The underground hadn’t given them much wood, nor had they let them go out to gather more. There was no traditional roast cooking in the flames, no singing or dancing. They had the radio on, but at every break in the music, there was a piece of propaganda—something about how great Vinland was, or that Spring would come when the demons and the underground were defeated.
He wanted to turn it off, but he had to look like he cared. On the other side of the fire, Norah and Lizzie watched the embers fly into the sky. After the incident in the auditorium, they weren’t sure they’d be allowed to celebrate the shortest day of the year. But here they were, celebrating nothing.
Without the other trainees or Terrance, Angus couldn’t walk away and put his faith in Demonside and his ability to hold on to the magic. They’d have to wait until they were all together, and waiting had never been so hard.
He tossed another branch on the fire and listened to the crackle of the hungry flames. With a little twist of the magic, he brought the sparks together to make a sun and let it explode out. Guards sat nearby, ready to act if anything happened.
What did they expect? Open revolt?
Angus hoped they didn’t expect them to flee to Demonside.
The nervous tension that had been swelling in his stomach all day hadn’t dissipated. It would be better if they fled that night. Then it would be done. He understood why
Terrance had hated the waiting.
Angus demanded answers after the demonstration in the auditorium. But he was tackled to the ground and thrown in a makeshift cell for the rest of the night until he calmed down. His skin still felt bruised, even though there wasn’t a mark on him. He didn’t sleep in the cell—the dampeners were so strong that they hurt. So he was awake when a note was pushed under the cell door.
One word was written on it.
Run.
He did the only thing he could—he ate the evidence in case he was searched. It was the only food he’d been given, and he’d had hours to realize that it would be convenient if they just forgot about him.
But someone had risked their life to send him that warning. They thought worse was to come, and they were probably right. He fisted his hand and sent sparks high into the air. He needed to do something. If he threw sparks in the faces of the guards, would that give enough time to open the void and fall through? Probably.
Long enough to steal the car and get away? Maybe. But he wouldn’t get far.
He lifted his head. Someone was approaching the house. They were being kept in an isolated house surrounded by forest. Even the fence was protected with some kind of magic that hurt to even brush against.
The noise of a car engine filled the night, and Lizzie and Norah looked up. Neither of them smiled. They’d barely spoken since the auditorium, but they all agreed it was too dangerous to rely on the goodwill of the underground.
The guard with the pipe got up. “Looks like the rest of the party is here.”
The knots in Angus’s stomach almost crippled him. Would that be the rest of the trainees? And if it were, could they really do it?
Angus could open the void fast, but they still needed to get through. They needed to make it clear to the others what was at stake, but they didn’t know which of the others they could trust. And Angus couldn’t leave without Terrance.
He swallowed and tried to be calm, but his heart raced like a rabbit about to be slaughtered. The rations he’d eaten for dinner didn’t want to stay down.
Voices drifted out of the house. He heard the clink of bottles, and six people came out of the house—what was left of the trainees and Terrance.
Angus stood and his knees gave a little wobble. He hadn’t spoken to Terrance via the telestones since the auditorium. He’d tried once, but Terrance didn’t respond. He walked over stiffly, as though he still hurt. Had the underground not healed him?
Terrance held out a bottle of the traditional Solstice mead—sunshine in a bottle, the taste of summer that warmed from the inside out. “As host you get to open it.”
Angus took it from him and unwrapped the foil from around the top. Then he undid the cap. He paused for a moment to make sure the mead wasn’t poisoned or laced with magic, but there was nothing there. He needed to say something.
“The longest night of the year. This one is colder and darker than most, but summer isn’t far away.” It’s just across the void. He raised the bottle and took a drink. Then he passed it back to Terrance, who took a drink and handed it on.
Angus reached for his hand, and for an awful moment, he thought Terrance was going to pull away, but he didn’t.
One by one the others drank, murmuring “to summer” even though it was clear none of them believed summer would come back to Vinland.
Terrance moved closer and murmured in Angus’s ear, “The stone went flat, I think. I could feel you, but not reply. I wanted to tell you I was all right.”
“Are you?” Angus searched Terrance’s face for a clue. There was always tension between them after a forced separation, but Angus was sick of it.
“Well enough. Though I can’t play.”
“They didn’t heal you, did they?” The anger simmered closer to the surface. Angus had never thought about killing with magic, but if Syg walked into the garden, Angus wouldn’t have hesitated.
Terrance gave a small shake of his head. “They said it’s because you interfered.”
“I’m sorry. For everything.”
“Don’t be sorry. Do something. I can’t live like this.”
Angus nodded. He was planning something, but it could get them all killed. Could he live with that? “Let’s drink and celebrate first.”
Terrance’s dark eyebrows drew together. “And then?”
“And then….” Then they either did nothing or they ran across the void and hoped they weren’t committing suicide. Although, if they stayed, death was equally assured. It was just a question of when. Maybe he’d become too comfortable with the idea of his death.
Someone handed Angus a fresh bottle. He opened it and got Terrance to sit in front of him, between his legs. To anyone looking, they were just being close. Angus had his hand under Terrance’s shirt as they shared a drink and watched the little bonfire.
Angus’s fingers brushed the edge of the bandages. He sensed the mess that was Terrance’s back. “Do you want the scars or not?”
Demons left the scars until the person was ready to move on.
“No. Neither of us need the reminder.” There was a mettle in Terrance’s voice that Angus had seldom heard before.
“Sometimes it’s easier to wear the physical scar than to bury the mental one.” Angus would never forget. Nor did he want to forgive. If the underground thought that hurting Terrance would keep him loyal, they didn’t know him. Or maybe they thought he was the same person who’d started college five months ago and was barely able to pass theory—the idiot who was taken by a demon the first time he opened the void.
Terrance turned his head. “And sometimes it’s better to move on. We both knew it was coming. Now it’s done. Now we push on before the fire dies.”
Angus let his magic spread into the wounds to encourage the skin to grow faster and knit together.
Terrance flinched. “That kind of tickles.”
“You must have a higher pain tolerance than me, because it always hurts.”
“They aren’t deep. It stung at the time, but it was more for show. They wanted to know when you’d break. It’s why I kept telling you no.”
“I tried.” He rested his forehead against Terrance’s shoulder. “I know you wanted me to just stand there.” He’d seen Terrance shake his head to warn. But watching someone he cared about being hurt on his behalf was more than he could bear.
Terrance’s posture eased. He’d lied about it not hurting that much. Beneath Angus’s hand, the scars faded too. In the morning there’d be no sign of them. Angus took the bottle of mead, and it burned all the way down until heat burst in his stomach and flooded his veins. But it didn’t unravel the knots.
“Are you sure about it?”
“Yeah.” Terrance rubbed his hand against Angus’s thigh. “My parents were jailed for being wizards. I was raised by my grandparents. I took the scholarship because they didn’t have the money for any kind of college, and I wanted to play rugby. After one term I knew I had to do something. I didn’t want to be one of them. So yeah, I’ve been ready since I was ten.” He lowered his voice. “Since I overheard my grandparents whispering about a cousin who’d defected, and I had to look up what the word meant.” He turned a little to whisper in Angus’s ear. “If I ever got to represent the country overseas….”
He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Angus hadn’t known about Terrance’s family. He’d never said a word. Maybe it was simply because he didn’t want people to know, in case they judged him for his parents’ assumed crimes. Angus had grown up listening to how bad wizards were. It was only when he’d met some that he learned the truth. No wonder his father had hated Jim so much.
They drank silently for a few minutes while the other trainees chatted. Angus hoped the mead didn’t make them too talkative. Would there be any mead next winter? Would there be any bees? Would anyone be left to care?
His hand was still under Terrance’s shirt. His skin was warm as Angus glided his fingers over the ridges of muscle on his stomach. Terrance had a
lways been built, but he felt harder. “Been training lots?”
“I figured my life depended on being good.”
He kissed Terrance’s neck. Was it wrong to steal a few moments? How long did they have before the guards put out the fire and told them the party was over?
Were the guards—there were two extra—all waiting for him to do something? “I think we should go in. Give those watching something to talk about.”
Terrance turned his head and kissed him. “I don’t care what they say. We should make the most of our time together.”
He hadn’t been serious. Terrance had walked in wounded. But he couldn’t deny that the mead and the bonfire and the way Terrance leaned against him had put the thought there. “You’re well enough?”
“I’ll show you the new trick I learned.” He turned and pushed Angus to the ground, and the snow crunched beneath him. Terrance shoved the bottle of mead into the snow to keep it upright and turned his full attention to Angus.
He’d almost forgotten how bright the lust could burn in Terrance’s eyes.
“And what trick is that?” But Angus was pretty sure he knew. Terrance could turn off his bracelet. It was only then that he realized he couldn’t feel the dampener at all. He’d healed Terrance without resistance. His eyes widened.
Terrance grinned and kissed him slowly. “Besides, you need to sober up.”
“You want to take advantage of me?” Angus wanted to be taken advantage of right then. Lust tumbled through him and hardened his dick. But he did need to stop drinking so he could open the void in a hurry when the time came—so he could fight if he had to.
“I was hoping the feeling would be shared.” Terrance pressed a little closer, but there were too many winter clothes between them.
“It is.” Angus threaded his fingers through Terrance’s hair and pulled him in for a kiss. Terrance’s lips were sweet from mead, and his mouth was hot and hungry. It was impossible to think of anything but getting his clothes off. “Shall we go in?”