Defiance (Heart Lines Series Book 5)

by Heather Hildenbrand

  Finally, I slept.

  I woke on my side on a thin mattress. Someone had covered me with a quilt that smelled like sage. The room glowed yellow from a light somewhere behind me. My hands felt full and it took me a moment of staring dumbly at their emptiness to realize what I felt filling them was magic. My magic; it lay very close to the surface and I wondered at how it had risen without my calling it up. Very slowly, disjointed memories washed over me. The battle and betrayal at RJ’s. Alex being shot. Our long trek here— I stopped and thought about that. Where was here? Portland? Somewhere close to it, anyway.

  Vaguely, I recalled Safar asking me questions.

  I’d been too out of it to answer. Now, I felt only marginally better but still off-balance, as if the slightest movement might send me back into … wherever it was I’d gone before.

  A noise from somewhere behind me made me sit up quickly. My stomach protested, rolling sideways and threatening to empty itself. I breathed deeply and when the worst of it had passed, I twisted to find Safar stirring cream into a steaming mug. She looked up and met my eyes. Hers were friendly but concerned. She rose and approached carefully, moving surprisingly quiet in the full robes she wore.

  “Tea?” she asked, holding out the mug.

  I took it, embarrassed that I couldn’t remember if I’d introduced myself already.

  “I’m Sam,” I said.

  She smiled, revealing white teeth that contrasted starkly with her tanned skin. “Glad to meet you, Sam. Are you feeling better?”

  “I … Yes, but … I don’t remember much about earlier,” I admitted.

  “You weren’t quite yourself. We decided to let you rest.”

  “Thank you.” I felt her eyes on me but I didn’t look over as I sipped the tea. Lemon and chamomile. I swallowed, grateful for the warmth as it slid down my throat. “Is Alex…?” My voice was scratchy from exhaustion. Hollow.

  “He’s resting.” Safar’s voice was also quiet but clear. There was a trace of an accent I couldn’t place.

  “The bullet?”

  “Removed.”

  I nodded, relieved, and we fell silent.

  I waited for her to leave like she had before, but she didn’t. The sound of something scraping across the floor broke the silence. A stool slid in front of me at the foot of the bed and Safar sat on it, half-turned toward the door. I watched as she bent over, her arms propped on her knees as she picked casually at her nails.

  “You were the one to hit Indra with the tranquilizer dart,” I said, finally placing where I’d seen the flash of color that was her robe.

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you,” I murmured, cupping the mug tightly between my itchy palms while I searched for words. I wanted to ask her why she’d helped us. Alex had made it clear Jin wasn’t okay with violence and I had to assume Safar shared that rule—and yet, she’d helped us. I wanted to thank her. But the words wouldn’t come. The parts inside that made me me felt stuck.

  “You are the vessel,” she said finally as if it were the answer and not a question.

  “I guess so.” I sighed. “I don’t even know what that means anymore.”

  Safar looked up at me and frowned. “You are losing yourself,” she said and this time I heard the question.

  “Yes,” I admitted. “I couldn’t … I couldn’t heal Alex. I—My magic feels broken but not.” I wrinkled my nose because I knew I wasn’t doing a good job of describing what I felt. “I can feel her taking over and the more I use her to heal or do anything magical, the harder it is to put her away again.” Tears burned my eyes as I put words to my terror for the first time. “If I keep this up, soon, I’ll just disappear.”

  “You won’t,” Safar said, shaking her head firmly just once.

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “The merge,” she said with a shrug.

  “The what?”

  Safar frowned again. “You don’t know about the merge, do you?” I shook my head. Her shoulders drooped. “Didn’t your Oracle tell you anything?”

  “I…” I opened my mouth and closed it again and finally shoved out words, stunned at what she’d implied. My eyes narrowed and my mind sharpened to a point until it was focused entirely on our conversation. “How do you know Mirabelle? And what does that have to do with what’s happening to me?”

  She cocked her head at me. “Did Alex tell you about Jin’s gift?” Safar asked. Another question. Not an answer. I forced myself to be patient.

  “Yes. He can read people. Their skin, their life story.”

  Safar nodded. “Jin is a seer.”

  I worked to put the pieces together. To read between the lines. “And you are his student. Does that mean you are like him? Is that how you know Mirabelle?”

  “Jin saved me,” she said and it wasn’t exactly the answer I’d expected but I didn’t interrupt. “When I was eight, my village was raided for witches. My family and our entire village was killed.”

  My chest pinged with an ache for her loss. “Safar, I’m so sorry.”

  “I don’t remember much about that night. During the raid, a friend of my mother’s escaped with me and brought me to Jin before she also died of her injuries. I have been here ever since because Jin would never turn away someone in need. But … Yes, I also learn from him, although my gifts are different from his.”

  I said nothing, waiting while she seemed to shake herself free of some memory. Finally, she blinked and looked in my direction, still not quite meeting my eyes.

  “And the merge you mentioned?” I pressed.

  She sighed. “I can’t tell you very much as my own merge happened when I was very young.” Again, she cocked her head to the side in an innocent curiosity. “I don’t know why someone hasn’t instructed you on such a common process.”

  “My magic isn’t exactly organic,” I said. “The moon goddess, Hina—”

  “I know about Hina.”

  “How do you …?”

  “Sam, you were her for the past day or so.” My jaw fell open. Her brows crinkled. “You don’t remember anything, do you?” I shook my head and she filled me in on what had happened during out first few interactions.

  My hands tightened into fists against the itch that grew the more she spoke. “This isn’t the first time it’s happened, is it?” she asked.

  “No. It began a while back but it’s gotten worse the last few weeks.”

  “Have you been using your magic more often?”

  “Yes.”

  I told her about the wolf healings I’d done at RJ’s and a quick version of everything that had happened to me over the past few months.

  “And the vomiting?” she prompted.

  “That’s new, too,” I told her.

  Safar bit her lip and the fact that she looked so worried only made me more stressed too. “Your people should have talked to you about this,” she murmured.

  “I … I haven’t told Mirabelle or anyone else about Hina taking over,” I admitted. “Alex is the only one who knows.”

  Safar didn’t comment on that, and her silence made me wonder if Mirabelle had been holding out on telling me things after all. Then again, with Mirabelle, it could have just slipped her mind. Or maybe she thought she had told me and just forgotten. “What is a merge?” I asked.

  Safar shrugged. “It’s sort of a joining. Every witch goes through it. Usually around puberty although for some it is later.”

  “A joining? Of your magic?” I asked.

  She nodded. “You know about werewolves, right? About their second soul?”

  “Yes, it’s what Ea is removing in order to take away their humanity.”

  “Right. Witches have something similar. A merge that must happen between their human side and their magical side. Without the joining, a witch’s magic is incomplete or unhealthy. It can drain you or worse. Make you sick with it if it becomes the dominant force in your psyche.”

  I thought of Alex and what he’d said about his mother. How her magic had dr
ained her until she went crazy. When I looked up again, Safar was watching me expectantly. “Alex said his mother got sick from using too much magic but this … it could be she never merged.”

  “She merged. Eventually.” Safar frowned. “But that’s not what changed her.”

  “What then?” I asked, suddenly very interested. But Safar didn’t answer. I leaned in. “Safar, if you know something—”

  “I don’t know anything for sure. Jin only spoke of it once and even he could only guess. Some of the changes were due to her magic. What was inside her was very strong and she’d resisted for a long time.”

  “And the rest?” I pressed.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know, but Jin always thought there was more to the story. Like she was running from something.”

  “Does Alex know that?”

  She shrugged. “He never asked.”

  I bit my lip. The magic inside me was strong too. “What … what if I waited too long? What happens to me then?”

  Would I end up like Alex’s mother? Running from my own magic?

  “You haven’t,” she said and the certainty in her voice both comforted and startled me.

  “How do you know?”

  “I just do,” she said, and I wondered again about Safar’s gifts. There was something about her … something more. Even more than Jin—and I’d sensed his magic right away.

  “And your gifts? They’re like Jin’s then?”

  “No, mine are different.”

  “You can see the future … like Mirabelle,” I guessed.

  “No.” Safar shook her head with a soft smile. “Your Oracle is one of a kind, truly.”

  I sat back, eyes widening. “You know her then?”

  “She came here once,” she said in a way that made me want to ask why. But I knew better than to pry about Mirabelle.

  “She hasn’t told me much,” I admitted. “I think she’s afraid she’ll give me wrong information. And Alex … she was blocked about him. It made her doubt herself, I think.”

  “I don’t blame her. And Alex is a different sort. I’m not sure she’s ever encountered one like him. I don’t think Jin has either.”

  That got my attention more than anything. “What’s different about Alex?”

  “His magic, of course.”

  Chapter Four

  Alex

  The satellite video-phone took hours to charge. Jin explained he hadn’t actually used it in almost a year. I held my breath hoping it would connect when the time came, and said nothing to Jin from where he sat silently watching as I hooked all the wires into place. I still hadn’t told Sam what I was up to. She hadn’t emerged from the bedroom yet, and I wasn’t going to wake her until I knew if this was actually going to work or not.

  My movements were slow thanks to the wound on my shoulder. Pain shot up my leg and hip every time I moved so I kept it slow. By the time I got everything properly plugged in and booted up, the clock on the sat phone read just after ten. I could only assume that meant ten a.m. but I actually had no real idea. Between the exhaustion from our trek here and that tea Jin had fed me, I wasn’t sure if I’d slept for a night or a month.

  As long as this bullet hole healed and I found RJ before he could unleash that punk-ass Ea on the world, I didn’t care how long we slept. My determination to make that dream a reality was the only thing keeping me on my feet and my mind trying to work out the problem of how to connect the sat phone to a frequency that would put my call through.

  Fifteen minutes later, I had a connection.

  “Fucking A,” I called out and then remembered Jin still sitting there.

  I looked up to find his brow quirked in my direction.

  “Looks like we have a line out,” I explained.

  The bedroom door opened before Jin could respond and I looked up to find Safar standing in the doorway, wide awake and alert as she undoubtedly searched the room for danger.

  “Everything’s fine,” I assured her. “Sorry for the outburst.”

  Safar’s gaze flicked to the equipment before me and her brows dipped. “You’re making a call?”

  “Going to try.”

  Safar turned and spoke softly to someone behind her—Sam—and then left the door open as she came forward. “You should be resting,” she said and she wasn’t wrong but I ignored her as I hit the buttons that would cue up an outgoing call. This was more important than rest.

  “I’ve checked and our signal is being diverted and cloaked,” I said to Jin. “We’re secure. Can I make a call?”

  He shrugged. “Sure.” Safar caught his eye, frowning, but she said nothing as she began fussing with the tea kettle. Jin came to sit on the stool nearby.

  “Who will you call?” Jin asked.

  I opened my mouth to answer but movement at the back of the room distracted me. I looked up and dropped the cord in my hand to study Sam. She was wearing different clothes—a pair of cotton pants that didn’t quite reach her ankles and a thin shirt to match that she must have borrowed from Safar. But her eyes were clear and attentive on mine. I let my gaze roam over her, checking silently for some sign that she was really herself.

  Nothing indicated otherwise.

  She stared back at me with sharp, knowing eyes and then shifted to study the equipment before me. Her brows furrowed with confused curiosity, and I was hit with a burst of affection that shot straight to my gut for the version of Sam that existed first thing in the morning. Soft, sensual, and innocent. I wanted to look at her like this every day forever.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat that wondered if we’d live long enough to do it. Or if Sam would even exist anymore a month from now. I refused to think it and instead, forced a smile way brighter than I felt.

  “You look beautiful,” I told her.

  She offered something between a smile and a grimace. “How are you feeling?”

  “Alive,” I said, not able to sugar coat it any more than that. Not with my shoulder pulsing like it was just now.

  Sam nodded and made her way over.

  “Morning, sunshine,” I said, my expression softening as Sam sat down beside me. She wedged herself against me, cuddling into the layers of blankets I’d used as a hospital gurney and then a bed the night before. “You really do look gorgeous this morning.”

  “Stop trying to make me forget how worried I am about you,” she said and I chuckled.

  She brushed the hair from her eyes and smiled back, dropping a kiss on my cheek that nearly distracted me from everything I’d been so intent on doing this morning. “What’s all this?”

  “A link to the outside,” I said and pulled her closer.

  “What sort of link?” she asked, peering closer at the video screen. She looked back at me. “Did you call someone?”

  “Not yet. I waited for you.”

  She hesitated and I could see the nerves in her eyes as she stared back at me. It was the best proof I could ask for that she was herself again. But it also made me want to kiss away all her fears. Maybe later when we didn’t have an audience and an open call channel. Instead, I rubbed my hand over hers as she asked, “Who are we calling?”

  “I was going to try Edie.”

  She nodded as if she’d already guessed. “Is it safe? I mean, can she trace it?”

  “No, Jin’s setup is secure. They can’t trace us.”

  “I cannot promise she won’t know your location,” Jin warned.

  I pressed my lips together, almost missing the implication. “The background view on the video,” I said flatly.

  Sam turned to Jin in surprise. “Edie’s been here before?”

  I sighed. “Where hasn’t Edie been?” Jin’s lips quirked. I shook my head. “I think we need to risk it. We need to know what’s waiting for us out there before we can figure out our next move.”

  “You mean we need to know where RJ is,” Sam said quietly.

  I tightened my hand around hers. “Yes.”

  She tensed beside me, and I resiste
d the urge to offer soothing words that might very well be empty promises. I held my breath, waiting to see if she’d lose herself again. The silence stretched, broken finally by the soft but shrill whistle of the teapot over the burner behind us.

  The sound abruptly died off, and I heard Safar moving around, pouring mugs of hot water. Finally, Sam nodded. “All right. Let’s call Edie.”

  It took me seven tries but finally I did exactly that.

  By the time the call went through, my shoulder was screaming at me, and I couldn’t even hold the tea Safar brought me. Sam took it from me, setting it aside, and I sat still as stone, too afraid to jostle my arm and send the whole thing screaming at me in agony.

  “You’re hurting more than you let on,” Sam muttered from beside me.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” I said, too intent on getting a signal out. The pain was second to making contact with Edie.

  A few moments later, the ringing ended with an abrupt click, and I wondered if the call hadn’t gone through after all. But a second later, the gray screen turned white and then a face appeared. It blurred and pixelated before finally settling into a cropped show of white hair and a sharp set of eyes that sat over a thin mouth. My heart leaped and I smiled in spite of everything.

  “Who the hell is calling me so early— Well, I’ll be a monkey’s grandma …” Edie trailed off as our faces undoubtedly appeared before her.

  Sam gripped my knee, silent in her anxiety, but I relaxed at the sight of the woman before me. Laugh lines, same as always, ringed her mouth and the crow’s feet around her eyes crinkled when she smiled at the screen. A rush of warmth and relief threatened to send me over the edge. I swallowed hard.

  “Hi, Edie,” I said.

  “Aren’t you dead?” she shot back and I grinned.

  “No. I’m not dead. Sorry to disappoint.”

  She grunted and even though it wasn’t much of a response, I could see the relief—and the irritation—in her eyes. “You want to tell me what the hell happened to you two yesterday?”

  “I want to, sure,” I said, careful now. I knew Edie too well for this. Her concern was personal. Her irritation was a mixture of both business and pleasure, and I never quite knew which would win out until after it was sometimes too late.