Bound

by Christina Garner

  It was the first time anyone had said her name.

  “Mom pretty much keeps it a shrine. Dad and I have tried to get her to clean it out—or let us do it—but she won’t.”

  “I can understand that,” Eden said. What was it like to lose a child? The pain must be engulfing.

  “I do, to a certain extent.” Quinn tucked a sheet under one corner of a cushion then paused. “It would be different if we were allowed to talk about her,” he said. “If we could acknowledge her without my mother going silent for a day. But it’s like she’s not allowed to exist for any of us, except in that room. It’s not fair.”

  “It’s not.” Eden laid her hand on his. “I’m sorry.”

  The clouds cleared from Quinn’s expression. “It’s fine. It’s just…how she deals, I guess.” He finished making up the bed.

  “You know where the bathroom is.” He gestured down the hall, and Eden acknowledged with a nod. “And you know where I am if you need me.”

  She needed him, but not in a way he would accommodate.

  “Sleep well.” He gave her a kiss.

  “I will.” She smiled up at him.

  When he’d left her, she opened her toiletry bag, and before washing her face or brushing her teeth, took out the only thing that might get her through that night.

  It had been a last-minute addition—she hadn’t needed a sleeping pill since she’d killed the boogeyman.

  Such a sad little borahn, he was.

  This time she didn’t argue. She might never shut him up, but she could make sure she wasn’t awake to hear him.

  Eden woke with urgency and stumbled on groggy legs in the direction of the bathroom.

  Don’t puke on the floor. Don’t puke on the floor.

  She made it to the toilet in time. She heaved and heaved until she was sure she was hollow.

  There was a soft knock on the door.

  “Eden?”

  Crap.

  It was Sheila.

  Eden flushed the toilet and rinsed out her mouth before opening the door.

  “I’m sorry,” Eden said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “No, I’m sorry.” She touched the back of her hand against Eden’s forehead, her face etched with concern. “You don’t have a fever. Was it something you ate?” A look of guilt flashed on Sheila’s face, and Eden rushed to quell it.

  “No, definitely not. The food was wonderful, and I’m the only one feeling this way. I think it was the drive. I got motion sick on the way up, and I guess it hung around longer than I thought.”

  “You poor thing.” Sheila took Eden’s hand and led her toward the kitchen.

  As they walked, Eden caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and wished she hadn’t. She was the most unflattering cast of greenish-gray.

  “Sit.” Sheila pointed to a stool.

  She went to a cupboard and pulled out the baking soda. “It doesn’t taste great.” She grabbed a glass and a spoon. “But it does the trick.”

  She poured half a cup of water into the glass and stirred in a small amount of the baking soda. Eden cringed inwardly. The last thing she wanted was to put anything else into her body.

  “Drink it all,” she said, handing the glass to Eden. “And like my grandmother used to say, ‘you’ll be right as rain.’”

  “Thanks.” Eden forced a tight smile and placed the glass to her lips. The mixture tasted bitter and slimy in her mouth. She forced herself to swallow.

  “You love my son.” Sheila stated it not as a question but as a fact.

  Eden swallowed another mouthful. “I do.”

  “I’m glad.” Sheila’s expression was kind. “He deserves to be happy.”

  “He’s an amazing person,” Eden quickly added, “but of course, you know that.”

  Sheila nodded. “He always has been—even as a boy. He’s more sensitive than he lets on. He takes things hard.”

  She knew her son.

  “I promise I won’t ever hurt him.”

  Not any more than I already have.

  “Of course you will.”

  Eden blanched, and her flesh pebbled.

  “He’ll hurt you too. Neither of you will mean to, of course. But the moment you give someone your whole heart, you give them the means to annihilate you.” Sheila had a faraway look in her eyes, but then she shook her head. “I’m sorry. Some nights bring melancholy.” Her expression cleared, and she was back to smiling warmly. “Finish the last of that, and let me know if you need anything else.”

  “I will,” Eden said. “Thank you.”

  Eden waited until she heard Sheila’s footsteps make the journey all the way up the stairs before quietly pouring the remaining liquid in the sink and rinsing the glass.

  They aren’t perfect, she thought. They’re a family. One that’s been through more than most and copes as best they know how.

  She settled back under the covers on the sofa and hoped Bes’tal wouldn’t chime in with an opinion before she drifted off to sleep.

  Eden crept up the stairs in the early morning light and padded down the hall to Quinn’s bedroom. She slipped inside and knelt beside him,

  “Quinn,” she whispered. When he didn’t rouse, she gave him a gentle shake. “Quinn.”

  He blinked open bleary eyes. “Eden?” He propped himself up on his elbow. “What is it?”

  “I’m so sorry,” Eden said. “But I have to go.”

  She’d gotten two more hours of sleep before getting sick again. This time, she’d been even quieter and managed not to wake Quinn’s mother, but hadn’t fallen back to sleep.

  “Why?” He was fully awake now. “What happened?”

  “Emergency at Coventry House. Alex says we have to come back.”

  “What kind of emergency?”

  “She wouldn’t say, but no one is hurt or anything. There’s a delegation from the Council of Magic, and she needs as many sisters to come home as possible.”

  “Okay.” It came out a bit of a grumble. “I’ll take you back.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’m going to take the bus.” She’d already looked at the schedules.

  “The bus takes twice as long, and if you got carsick coming up, you don’t want to be bus sick going back. Take it from someone who’s done it, that ride is much worse.”

  “I’ll get some medicine. Really, I don’t want to make you leave early.”

  “Make me?” He leaned forward. “If you remember, I was trying to avoid coming. I wanted to spend four days alone with you.”

  Eden smiled but twisted his blanket in her fingers. “If you take me back, I probably can’t hang out the rest of the weekend.” Once she got back, her time wouldn’t be her own.

  He shrugged. “I’ll pick up an extra shift from someone who got stuck working. Maybe I’ll be able to afford to get you more than a lump of coal for Christmas.”

  Eden smiled at the truly good human before her. “Are you sure?”

  “I am one hundred percent sure I’m not letting you take that bus.” He pushed back the covers and swung his legs around to sit on the edge of the bed. “My parents will be up in about an hour. Let’s make them some breakfast to soften the blow.”

  “Good idea. Maybe they’ll hate me a little less for taking their son away.”

  As it turned out, they didn’t hate her at all, because Quinn insisted on telling them there had been an outbreak of the flu at The Grind, and his manager had begged him to come back early.

  “Good decision, son. Always go the extra mile,” Dan said.

  His mother was clearly disappointed but only said, “Of course. If you have to go, you have to go.”

  Eden felt bad for letting him take the fall, but they would forgive him much sooner than they’d have forgiven her. She was pretty sure she’d blown the “great impression” plan, and was now just shooting for, “please don’t tell your son to dump me” strategy.

  She had other things to feel guilty about. Worse things.

  Soon Quinn would learn t
he truth about some of them, and it wouldn’t matter what his parents thought of her, because he would break up with her all on his own.

  Chapter 36

  Dinner had happened later than they’d planned, and the pan of mushrooms had been burnt to the point of unusable, but it was still the best Thanksgiving meal Sarah had ever had.

  Now it was morning, and the two sat in a booth at the adorable diner she and Kai had passed on their way through town yesterday.

  Both reticent to get out of bed, they’d gotten a late start. Hunger gnawed at Sarah as she pursued the menu.

  “Two coffees.” The waitress set the mugs down on the table. They’d wanted lattes, but the place didn’t have an espresso machine. “Ready to order?”

  “Homemade biscuits and gravy.” Kai snapped her menu closed. “You had me at homemade.”

  “And for you?” The waitress turned to Sarah.

  “She’s right about most things.” Sarah nodded toward Kai. “I’ll have the same.”

  When the waitress left, Kai put on a mocked stern expression. “Most things?”

  Sarah lifted her shoulders a fraction and maintained an innocent expression. Kai smirked and stirred her coffee.

  “This place makes me feel like we’ve stepped back in time.” Sarah surveyed the room. “I bet nothing has changed in the past thirty years.”

  “Forty,” said a woman at a table only two feet away. “Not even him.” She jerked her thumb toward the man sitting next to her and smiled.

  Sarah and Kai smiled back, and the couple headed up front to pay their bill.

  “This place must be filled with stories.” Kai took a sip of her coffee. “All of these little shops look like they belong on a postcard, not real life.”

  Kai’s mention of the other shops brought up the only topic Sarah was currently letting herself worry about. How was she going to go next door by herself?

  Sarah’s heart had skipped a beat when she’d spotted the little broom adorned with flowers on the door—a secret sign that the shopkeeper dealt in magical objects.

  She knew it was a long shot, but they’d waited so long and paid so much for that bitter windroot, and they needed more to complete the containment ritual. There was a nationwide shortage, but a small town like this? There probably wasn’t much demand here. Some might be sitting in a dusty jar high on a shelf.

  Kai wouldn’t know what the broom meant, but she knew what bitter windroot was. Or at least that Sarah had used it during her failed attempt to imprison Bes’tal. It would be no problem walking in with Kai, but she couldn’t ask about that root within Kai’s earshot, which meant she had to find a way to slip in by herself.

  “I need to use the restroom.” Sarah slid from the booth.

  Kai glanced up, appearing slightly startled at Sarah’s abruptness. “Okay.”

  Sarah walked casually toward the back of the restaurant, but as soon as she rounded a corner, picked up the pace. Restaurants always had back doors so they could take out the trash discreetly. The shop next door probably had one too.

  She passed the restroom and strode out the back door, the cold air making her gasp. Sarah had taken off her coat when she’d sat down, so she shivered as she hurried a few feet to the right and pulled on the handle of the door to the neighboring shop.

  Her relief was audible when it opened easily.

  Inside the shop smelled of coffee, and Sarah glanced longingly at the espresso machine.

  “Who’s there?” called a voice from up front.

  “Sorry, just me.” Sarah stepped into view. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “Not frightened,” the woman said, good-natured, but serious. “Just wanted to make sure it wasn’t some hooligan trying to steal something.”

  “If you have what I’m looking for, I’ll happily pay.” Sarah pulled her bank card from her back pocket as proof. “Have you got any bitter windroot?”

  “Bitter windroot. Let’s see. If I remember correctly…” She moved from her stool behind the counter and went to a row of jars lined up in neat rows on wooden shelves.

  Sarah spotted it before she did, and her heart sang. All of her luck was turning around.

  “Here it is—bitter windroot. It’s six dollars an ounce.”

  Sarah almost felt bad the woman had no idea what a goldmine she held in her hands. They’d paid four times that plus a mint in shipping charges from Europe, but the thinness of her bank account didn’t permit her to speak up. “I’ll take an ounce, please.”

  It was more than she needed but better safe than sorry.

  The woman opened the jar and scooped some of its contents into a small plastic baggie. As she weighed the contents, Sarah snapped a picture of the jar and sent it to Eden.

  Sarah—Look what I found!

  She tucked her phone back into her pocket and met the woman back at the counter where she handed over her debit card.

  “Would you like a bag?”

  “No, I’m good.” Sarah took the baggie and stuffed it into her back pocket. “Thanks for your help.”

  Sarah was near-giddy with her good fortune. What were the odds everything was finally working out?

  She turned, headed for the back door when she saw Kai, her face a mix of anger and hurt.

  “Breakfast is ready.”

  Kai spun on her heel and stormed out.

  “Are you sure you won’t let me drop you off at the house?”

  It was the third time Quinn had asked. Eden gave the same reply.

  “I don’t want you anywhere near the Council.”

  Quinn eased to a stop right as the campus shuttle pulled up.

  “I know, but…aren’t you worried? What do they want?” Quinn had reason to be concerned, a delegation from the Council wasn’t something to take likely.

  “A little, but I don’t think it’s about me. Alex would have been gloating if it was.”

  Eden exited the car and met Quinn at the trunk.

  “Text me when you can.” Quinn kissed Eden’s forehead. “So I know everything is okay.”

  “I will.” She hoisted her bag onto her shoulder. “Try not to worry. Everything is going to be fine.”

  She touched his cheek, wondering if it would be the last time.

  “I love you,” she said. “You know that, right?”

  “I know it.” Quinn took her face in his hands and kissed her deep. “I love you too. Be careful.”

  “Always.” Eden smiled and fought back tears.

  She made her way over to the line of people already boarding the van, waving at Quinn as he started his car. She shuffled forward, staring after him as he pulled away.

  “Which stop?” The driver was making marks on a slip.

  Eden didn’t answer. She was too busy watching Quinn as he finally turned the corner, his car sliding out of view. Her heart broke a little.

  “Which stop?” the driver said again.

  “None.” The voice was soft and familiar. Eden turned to find Mikel, and her eyes bulged. “I’ll take her.”

  “Mi-Mikel,” Eden sputtered. “What are you doing here?”

  There was no delegation from the Council. That had been a lie—at least she’d thought it was a lie when she’d told it.

  “Giving you a ride, it seems.” He reached out and slid Eden’s bag from her shoulder. “How have you been, child?”

  Eden’s mind raced. What was Mikel doing here? Were there more Council members? What was going on?

  “You look nervous. Are you well?”

  “Yes.” Eden swallowed. “Fine. I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting to see you.”

  A kind smile spread across his face. “I understand. The Council has a bit of reputation for being the boogeyman.” He chuckled. “But even if we were, you’d have nothing to worry about, would you? Carolyn told the Council with great pride how you dispatched the borahn. So, you see, even if we are as scary as they say, there’s no need for concern.”

  Eden felt her cheeks warm with the praise and wi
th pain at the memory of Carolyn.

  “My car is just here.” Mikel gestured and began walking in that direction.

  Eden scurried to catch up. His congeniality put her at ease, but she wondered how Mikel’s arrival would change her strategy. There was a plan behind why she’d had Quinn bring her home early. Mikel wasn’t part of it.

  Crap, crap, crap.

  Sarah raced after Kai, out the back door and into the cold. Once outside, she stopped short, confronted by Kai standing with arms crossed.

  “Bitter windroot?” Her eyes blazed. “What do you need with that?”

  Sarah didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

  “What the hell are you thinking?”

  “That I’m going to help take care of my friend the way you always want to take care of me.” Sarah felt awful that Kai had found out this way, but she wasn’t backing down. “I found another Urn of Capio.”

  “You have got to be kidding me.” Kai paced, angry stomps of boots on asphalt.

  “It will be different this time. We’re going to—”

  “You promised me, Sarah. You promised you wouldn’t try again.”

  “I did.” There was no denying that. “But this time, we’ll have Alex’s help.”

  Kai stopped and whipped her head up. “Alex is on board with this lunacy?”

  “Not exactly,” Sarah said. “But she will be.” She felt as though she were doing triage on this conversation. Which rupture was the worst?

  “I can’t believe this.” Kai shook her head, her face incredulous. “After everything Eden has put you through, you’re still willing to just blindly follow wherever she points?”

  “She’s not pointing anywhere.” Anger bubbled in Sarah’s belly. “This was my idea. I had to convince Eden to let me try again.”

  “Why would you do that?” Kai was almost shouting now. “Why?”

  “Because she’s my best friend!” Sarah exploded. “All your talk about wanting to protect me, but you don’t want me to feel the same about Eden. Who are you to even question it?”

  Kai re-crossed her arms. “I’m supposed to be your girlfriend.”

  “Girlfriend doesn’t mean boss.”