“I suggest you not waste your time. You have my book to retrieve, and Frederick here will not be going anywhere any time soon, will you?”
Sebastian’s brother, now standing docilely by Roger’s side, shook his head.
“That’s right. And if your dear brother Sebastian tries anything…unpleasant, you will be a good boy and kill yourself, now won’t you?”
Freddie nodded and raised his hands to wrap long fingers around his own neck.
“Stop, stop! I get the point. But I swear, if you hurt one hair on his head you’ll never see your stupid book again!” Sebastian was trembling, though whether from fear or rage he had no idea. Probably both.
Freddie lowered his hands, and Roger smiled, the red in his eyes pulsing. “Run along, Sebastian. Run along like a good boy before my patience wears thin.” With that, he backed out of the door and disappeared into the hall along with his followers and Freddie.
It took Sebastian several long moments before he could force himself to move. His feet felt heavy, and his mind scrambled this way and that as he retraced his steps. He couldn’t rescue Freddie, not when his brother was in the thrall of that creature. He couldn’t defeat Roger man to man, and there was no one, not mundane, not wizard, who could make a difference. His only option was Thiriel, and she was the absolute last being in all the realms he had any desire to speak to. But he had no choice.
Not knowing what else to do, he left the way he had come, collecting a shivering Pip as he went. The day had brightened, the air warming slightly under the brilliant sun. But Sebastian was ice cold through and through, fear leeching every bit of warmth out of him.
He drove home, giving himself time to think. The last time he had seen Thiriel she had whispered in his ear that when next they spoke, he would have to make a decision—one he had been running from ever since he had left Melthalin.
It was a decision he knew he could not make.
Yet as slow as he drove and as hard as he thought, no other option presented itself. He briefly considered going by McCain Library to see Lily, perhaps for the last time. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. She wasn’t so blind that she would fail to notice something was wrong, and he had no answers to the questions she would ask.
Finally, he could put it off no longer. Standing in the empty lot behind his apartment, he took one long look at the beautiful blue sky, enjoying the simple pleasure of the sun on his face. Then he forced his mouth to open and his lips to form the words he dreaded above all else.
“Elwa Tahiri’elal. Ta’il ihki…melihi’ara.”
There was a moment of silence, broken only by the wind whistling through the desiccated weeds around him. Then everything disappeared into blackness.
Sebastian. Why have you come?
He opened his eyes to shimmering darkness, lit faintly by distant flickers of ghostly luminescence. He was in the twilight, that vast nothingness that separated the human realm from the fae. Such a place was deadly to humans. Without a fae guide to lead them safely through, anyone lost within its vastness would wander with no hope of direction or escape, lost in an emptiness that would slowly swallow them whole and leave nothing behind, not even a memory. It was totally alien, a place no man was meant to be. And that was exactly where Thiriel held him, suspended.
“I don’t suppose we could have this conversation somewhere a bit more comfortable?” Sebastian asked, a nervous cough escaping him as he resisted the urge to look down. Instead, he kept his eyes on Thiriel, knowing what would happen if he let her out of his sight.
Do not try me, human. I am at the end of my patience.
That was probably putting it mildly, but then again, the fae were masters of understatement. Thiriel was not happy, and she spoke directly into his thoughts on purpose, knowing it unnerved him.
Why have you called upon me? Are you ready to make your choice?
“Ahhh, yes. That. Well, it’s definitely on my to-do list, I swear. But how about I get a rain check on it for now because, well, I have this situation that’s sort of time sensitive and I could really use your help.”
Thiriel said nothing. The midnight-black skin of her face would have been lost amid the surrounding nothingness if it weren’t framed by the waves of her snowy hair that cascaded down over bare shoulders. Her shadowy raiment of silk reflected the distant twinkles, its surface so dark Sebastian could barely tell where it ended and the twilight began. Yet it was a safer sight than Thiriel’s eyes. Their empty whiteness was piercing and full of power, and they drew his gaze against his will.
“M-my brother,” he forced out, locking his knees against the overwhelming urge to kneel. “Witches have him. Demons too strong for me. Need your help.”
And why, Sebastian, would I help you? Are you my loyal vassal to whom I owe my protection? What service have you rendered me that has put me in your debt?
Sebastian’s mouth worked, but no words came out. He had none to give.
What have you done for the fae, Qem’nathir? What sacrifice have you made or oath have you kept which could repay the aid we have already afforded you?
“I—I’ve killed demons—”
To save your own skin. Her face did not move, but Sebastian could sense her scorn.
“I helped you deal with Morgan le Fay.”
You merely followed along like a lovesick puppy. The wizard was the one who risked her life to return what was ours. She has twice your courage, and ten times your moral fortitude. I begin to wonder if I erred in choosing you. Perhaps I read the prophecy wrong.
Sebastian swore, frustration feeding the flame of resentment in him. “I never asked for this! You didn’t explain—I never had a choice.”
You asked for life, for protection, for power. You knew such things did not come without a price. That I should grant them to a mere human was a mark of great favor—it did not make them free. Yet you treated them as a toy, to be played with and tossed aside without a thought.
With each word, Sebastian felt the pressure on his mind increase. His little flame of indignation winked out, his body going numb with cold as Thiriel’s wrath swept through him with an icy ferocity that froze his very soul.
I have sustained you, have borne your insult on my generosity and faith for long enough. I will bear it no longer.
“Please. I—I’m sorry.” His knees finally buckled under the pressure and he sank down, his eyes never leaving hers as his walls cracked open, baring his soul to the truth. “You’re right. I’m a selfish bastard. A c-coward. I never understood why you chose me in the first place, and I didn’t deserve your help. Never have, never will. But I can’t do anything about it now. My brother is in trouble. I have to help. Please—”
The woes of mankind are none of our concern. We are the caretakers of the earth, nothing more. Too often have we meddled in the affairs of man, to our great sorrow.
“Bull—” Sebastian swallowed the rest of the word, stricken by the look in Thiriel’s eyes. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. “What about that prophecy you keep talking about? What about Lily and Kip and that voice? You can’t deny there’s something bigger going on.”
Ah. So, now you speak of larger things. But it will do you no good. The prophecy does not concern your brother, and if you truly cared for its meaning you would not be in this situation in the first place.
His only chance at saving Freddie was slipping away, and he was powerless to stop it. Unbidden, a flare of anger leapt into his heart. Why was he even bothering? Freddie didn’t care about him. Never had. His brother hadn’t spoken a word to him or even tried to reach out since their parents had died. Why in the world was he always getting tangled up in other people’s problems? First Lily, now Freddie. Why was he endangering his own survival for someone he didn’t even like?
A powerful ache gripped his heart and his vision blurred as tears of self-awareness filled his eyes, seeking release.
He knew why.
Be kind, even when the world punishes you for it. It was his m
other’s voice, not Thiriel’s, that echoed now through the deepest, darkest, and most vulnerable corner of his heart. It was the only part of her he had left, and he couldn’t bring himself to forsake it.
“Please, Thiriel,” he whispered, trying not to choke on his own desperation. He couldn’t see how begging would get him anywhere, and yet he thought Thiriel had cared for him at one time. Perhaps she still did in her cold, fae way. “It’s my brother. If—if you won’t help directly, just give me that book I left in Melthalin for safekeeping. If you give it back I’ll go away and never bother you again. Please…”
There was a pause before Thiriel replied. That tome is too powerful to entrust to any man, even you. Mankind has proven itself too easily corrupted. I cannot give it to you.
“I won’t keep it, I promise! All I need it for is bait, so I can save Freddie. Then I’ll give it back.”
You cannot ensure its safety, Sebastian. I am sorry, but—
“Wait!” Sebastian’s mind raced, searching for a solution. “What if—what if you made it like the staff. So I could summon it, and if I’m not touching it, it goes right back to the fae realm? You can do that, right? As soon as I hand it over, it’ll just disappear. It will be safe then, right?”
This time Thiriel’s silence was long. She did not move, and Sebastian found he could not either, though he wasn’t sure if it was because of his own weakness, or because of the power she had over him.
I could. But I will not. You have proven yourself unreliable and unworthy of the artifact I have already given you. Why should I trust you with another?
“O-okay, so, what if I give Tahir back—just for now, you know? And then when I’m done with the book we can, erm, trade?” He hated how his voice sounded, hated what he was suggesting. That staff and the power that went with it allowed him to sleep at night. It had saved his life countless times, and had helped him save others. He would be virtually helpless without it. Yet what good was it without the book? What good was any of it, even his life, if he walked away, knowing his brother would die a horrible death?
And the choice I spoke of?
“I promise I’ll try harder,” he said, unable to offer anything else because he knew it would be a lie. “Lily was right, I’m only human. I—I don’t think I can be who you want me to be, but I can…I can try.”
She held his gaze for a long time, and he felt himself drowning in the bottomless nothingness of her eyes. It was as if she were searching his heart, his very soul, trying to decide if she should trust him. He hoped she found an answer there, because not even he knew if she should trust him. Was he worthy of it? Was he worth the risk? He had no idea.
Time stretched into eternity, until finally…Very well. But this is your last chance, Qem’nathir. If you fail me again, I will have no choice but to withdraw my favor. My priority is to my people, to our commission. We must protect our own.
Sebastian could only nod, his usual fountain of words as empty as his mouth was dry. He knew what came next, and he feared it.
Thiriel stepped forward and bent, stooping to take up his tattooed right hand. Her touch sent fire through him, thawing the ice in his limbs even as it burned him. He wasn’t ready…couldn’t take the memories…he didn’t want to go back…
Give back that which was gifted to you, Qem’nathir. Let it go.
The memories…her touch, her mind, her body. The belonging she offered. The power. The memories overwhelmed him, and he clutched at them for support as another part of him broke off and was slowly drawn away, leaving a gaping hole behind. His right hand burned as lines of fire flared and slowly faded. He felt naked. Vulnerable. Weak. Even though he knew there had been a time before all this, before him and the fae, he could barely remember how it felt to be this small. This powerless. The reminder sent his mind even further back, spinning into dark memories of before.
Pain.
Loss.
Fear.
Meg.
“No!” He was on his hands and knees, shaking uncontrollably. With all his might, he shut his mind down, refusing to remember. Refusing to think. The darkness below him twinkled faintly with a distant, ethereal light. He did not fall. Rather, he felt a hand raise him up, its touch as smooth as silk yet cold and hard as iron. Once he was upright, the hand took hold of his chin, firm, but gentle, and raised his eyes to meet the queen’s.
It is done. The book will come to you when you summon it. Call to me when you are ready to return it. I will be waiting.
Her gaze lingered on him for a moment more, and then she was gone. He was back in the vacant lot, the empty, frigid bite of the twilight replaced by the much more familiar cold of an Atlanta winter. Yet it was no longer day. A clear night swaddled him in its darkness, and the realization sent a surge of fear coursing through him.
He felt them.
For so long his mind had been at peace, protected by the fae magic which tied him to the staff of unmaking. But now he was naked. The magical tattoo on the back of his right hand—the mark that connected him to Tahir and his fae magic—was gone. In its place were revealed his old scars, ugly, twisted white lines marring his skin and proclaiming his foolish mistakes. They marked him like a beacon in the night for the creatures he had so long hated and feared.
Shivering, he hurried inside his apartment, turning on every single light he possessed and even digging out an old flashlight from some cluttered drawer. Then he locked himself in the bathroom—the brightest room in the house—and huddled in a corner, his flashlight illuminating the few dark corners hidden from the shining bulb over the sink. Finally, he took out his phone, checking the time before laying it on the tile floor in front of him. It was Wednesday night, almost thirty-six hours after he’d left the old factory.
He did not let himself think, nor did he close his eyes as the hours slowly passed. If he didn’t fall asleep, he wouldn’t dream, and as long as he didn’t dream, he was safe. Unguarded thoughts were the open door, an invitation to attack. That, he had learned long ago. It didn’t matter if he were waking or sleeping, he was always vulnerable.
He did not move from the corner until his phone announced the arrival of seven AM, and the rising of the sun.
Sebastian didn’t bother sneaking this time. He simply walked up to the front entrance of the old factory and knocked. Pip hovered at a distance, fully glamoured and flitting back and forth nervously. He wasn’t sure why he’d bothered calling for her. He knew how this would play out. Without his staff, what little hope he’d had of making it out alive was gone. It didn’t matter now—all that mattered was ensuring Freddie’s safe release.
His entire body felt numb, and he welcomed the lack of sensation. It helped to quiet his mind and still his thoughts. The daze was better than the fear, something he knew was only a short step away if he lost control.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the runt. Long time no see.” Cassius’s heavyset face split in an unpleasant grin, his stocky body blocking the crack he’d opened in the doorway. “I always knew I’d have a chance to get even. Guess today’s the day, huh?”
Sebastian didn’t reply. The piece of trash wasn’t worth the breath.
“So where’s the book?”
“Shut up and take me to him,” Sebastian replied, using as few words as possible and not bothering to even look at the shorter man.
“You won’t be so cocky when he’s done with you,” Cassius muttered, opening the door wide to let Sebastian in. “Just you wait.”
Sebastian strode past, trying to make his steps confident and resolute—the exact opposite of how he felt. He sensed Pip zip through a tiny hole near the ceiling, staying high and out of sight as he headed for the offices at the end of the huge, vaulted factory floor, now empty of paper mill machinery. Halfway across, however, an office door opened and out filed Roger, Freddie, and Roger’s posse of acolytes. Roger and Freddie halted about five paces in front of him, while the rest of the witches moved to surround him, Cassius remaining where he was at the rear. Se
bastian hardly cared anymore. He already knew he couldn’t be in a worse situation, even as all his carefully constructed control began to unravel at his mere proximity to Roger.
He could feel it, could feel its pull. And the thing behind Roger’s mismatched eyes knew it. A wide smile slowly spread across the older witch’s face, though there was a shadow of something in his eyes. Was it disappointment? Sebastian couldn’t tell—not without meeting that deadly gaze from which he now had no protection.
“As I said before, Sebastian. Decent, and predictable. But do not fret. We will soon cure you of that. I promise, you will be so much more…free, when we are finished. Free from worries or cares, free from the burden of choice. If you want to know what it is like, simply ask Frederick.”
Sebastian focused on his brother, noting with relief that Freddie seemed unharmed, even if his face was as vacant and lifeless as before.
“I’m not doing a thing until you get out of his head and let him go.”
“That is hardly fair, my boy. How do I even know you have my book?”
“I’ll ram it down your ugly throat, that’s how.” A bit of anger seeped through the numbness, and Sebastian latched onto it, desperate for anything that gave him a sense of control.
“Tut tut, what a temper. You do remember that anger only excites them, don’t you?”
As Roger spoke, Sebastian felt the air around him shimmer and sizzle. His nostrils flared at the stench of sulfur, but he refused to glance at the half a dozen demons that appeared around him in response to their masters’ summons, forming a second circle inside the circle of witches. He kept his eyes on Freddie, willing his brother to snap out of it and run.
“Show me the book, Sebastian, before I grow impatient.”
Sebastian gritted his teeth. “First, get out of his head. Prove he isn’t permanently damaged and then I’ll show you the book. If I’m lying, you can always put him back under.”
Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Betrayal Page 14