“Please.” Jessica closed her eyes and took an insanely deep breath. “Please say something that actually makes sense.”
‘Okay. How about this? That asshole turning Xahar’áhsh into a flesh-eating pool party can get into the fae’s head whenever he wants. Now that we know the truth, we’re fish in a barrel. When he realizes you didn’t torch Leandras after making it look like a kidnapping—nice move, by the way—he’ll call to check in again. Say what you want about not trusting your crush or the guy you’re crushing on, but he literally can’t control it. That’s how this works. Make sense now?’
Oh, no...
Leandras wanted her to leave him behind, because changing both their magic when she’d played god and snatched him back from death hadn’t broken his connection to the Dalu’Rázj. And if he really had flipped a complete one-eighty and wanted to help her now, anything they did together could be fed right back to the enemy.
Like planning to tear down the dark lord of one world to save both of them.
‘Which means...’
“I have to do it,” she whispered. “Shit.”
‘There you go.’ The bank chuckled. ‘Not so hard to figure out when you have me here to give you a few good knocks over the head, huh? Or in it, technically.’
“It still doesn’t make sense.” Running a hand through her hair, Jessica grimaced at the tangled knots and the grittiness of so much dirt caked all over her.
Time for that shower.
She hopped off the bed and went straight to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her just because there was actually a door again to shut.
Leandras wanting to stay behind in Xahar’áhsh for what sounded way too much like the magical version of the afterlife hell a lot of people believed in—only without dying—didn’t make any sense at all. How was that easier for him than risking the Dalu’Rázj’s discovery of his betrayal?
Yeah, it might ruin their plans or at least make them a lot harder to achieve. But the Dalu’Rázj couldn’t actually do anything from the other side of the Gateway. That was the whole point. That was why they’d put themselves through the gauntlet—so they could keep the bastard from doing anything else ever again.
If being ripped apart by his own master for another few thousand years was easier for Leandras than potentially coming across a few more obstacles to their goal, then...what?
The Laen’aroth had an overactive conscience?
‘Uh...no.’ The bank let out a weak chuckle. ‘I guess I shouldn’t really expect you know what that kind of old-school magical bond actually takes. You know, to create in the first place. And to break. Obviously.’
“Okay, so I don’t know. Tell me.”
The bank was silent for so long, she wondered if she’d missed that little pinch in the back of her mind that meant her extra voice was gone.
But then a small, sad whisper reappeared. ‘Jessica, if he breaks those ties, it’ll destroy him.’
“Okay, telling me he’s just grown especially attached to being a spy for the asshole who destroyed an entire world doesn’t help anything.”
‘I’m not talking about his feelings, you idiot. I mean literally.’
Chapter 20
Jessica stared at the closed shower curtain in front of her and couldn’t move. “He wants me to kill him?”
‘Eh, maybe not in so many words...’
“I’m not killing him.”
‘You wanted to.’
“That was when he didn’t want me to kill him. When I was pissed off and... Okay, fine. I wanted to. But if dying the first time didn’t cut him off from the Dalu’Rázj, it’s not gonna work a second time.”
This was ridiculous.
No, Jessica wasn’t exactly green behind the ears when it came to taking life. Obviously. But those were extremely justifiable circumstances. Kill or be killed.
Leandras didn’t deserve that.
‘You got me all wrong here. It’s not a death in the way you’re thinking.’
“What other kind of death is there?”
‘I mean, there’s the kind you’re particularly familiar with. Magical suicide.’
“What?”
‘You know. Casting the Shattering on yourself didn’t exactly tickle.’
“Yeah, but I...”
But what? She didn’t actually die?
No. She’d just severed the core of who she was and shoved it into a box. Because she couldn’t handle the part she’d played in Rufus’ death or the overwhelming urge to destroy everything around her because of it.
That was Jessica’s addiction, wasn’t it? Chaos. Fueling herself through the suffering of everyone dumb enough to get in her way.
Dumb enough to get too close to a vestrohím who really fucking liked being exactly what she was.
‘Now you get it. If you say yes—which I seriously recommend, just by the way—the Laen’aroth is done. Caput. Finito. And I haven’t exactly been through it myself, so I wouldn’t really know, but I’ve heard severing that magical cord is a lot worse than the Shattering. Like, so excruciating you can’t even imagine—’
“Stop. Just...stop talking. I don’t need to hear that.”
‘But you understand.’
Yeah. She did. Leandras would rather face the fury of the Dalu’Rázj for who knew how long than sever the link to his master. And yet he’d still come back with her. He’d still fought off the attack by a horde of magicals who might or might not still assume he was on their side.
And he was downstairs in the poor excuse for a guestroom, waiting for her to give him the thumbs-up to rip himself apart so she could put him back together again. Because now that they were here, it was the only option that didn’t end in complete failure.
“I get that it’s the lesser of two tortures,” she muttered, ripping the shower curtain aside to turn on the faucet and let the water heat up. “But it’s... Why would he want that?”
‘Why did you?’
Jessica froze and had to think about it. To really think about it.
Why had she cast the Shattering on herself?
She’d been using the surface answer for a long time now—that she was dangerous, that she didn’t want to hurt anyone else she cared about, that the world was better off with Jessica Northwood the apprentice witch than with Jessica Northwood the vestrohím.
But the real answer was that she’d tried to convince herself she could change. She’d torn her magic away just to prove she could be something more than the darkness that had fueled her entire life. Until she’d realized it was impossible to be more than her chaotic power unless she embraced it again.
‘Bingo.’
Jessica’s breath shuddered when she exhaled. The sting in her nose heralding another wave of tears she wouldn’t shed made her turn around. She forced all the feelings away and made herself think this all the way through.
Leandras wanted to prove to her that he could change. That he could also be something more than what he’d always been, something better. He’d be torturing himself first, but then she’d be there to help him pick up the pieces and redirect the magic of Leandras Vilafor serving someone straight to her instead.
“That’s a bad idea.”
‘I mean, yeah. Anyone could’ve told you casting a Shattering on yourself was a bad idea. And they did. But did it stop you? No. You’re just predictable that way.’
“If he thinks he’s better off swearing himself to me, he’s looking for all the wrong things.”
‘Okay, how hard exactly did you hit your head in that other world?’
“I’m serious,” Jessica hissed and whipped off her clothes before tossing them onto the floor. “I’m literally death and destruction dressed up like a witch. How is that any better than the Dalu’Rázj?”
‘Oh-ho! Hey, Jessica. Your masochism’s showing. And it just accessorizes so perfectly with your enormous ego, by the way.’
“He can’t just break off his ties with one seriously screwed up master to bind them to an
other seriously screwed up...me.”
‘If you think you’re anything like the monster who wants to tear me apart, you’ve got some serous issues to work through.’
“Yeah, no shit.”
Leandras wanted to change. But swearing himself to her wouldn’t lead him to redemption.
Jesus Christ, if she had a fae—and not just any fae but the goddamn Laen’aroth, the fae who’d lied and cheated and bargained his way through millennia of deception that got everyone around him to do exactly what he wanted, and all for the greater bad—she’d be unstoppable.
Jessica could literally do whatever the hell she wanted with a fae like Leandras at her command, and he’d never refuse her. He wouldn’t be able to.
Fuck the agony of ripping away their own magic.
She’d destroy them both anyway.
‘See, and that’s why you’re not as badass as you think. You have a conscience too. Or maybe that’s what makes you badass, and without it, you’d just be all bad.’
Not a helpful reminder.
Jessica had a conscience because she’d worked hard to grow one. Still, it would be so easy to let it all go. To not give a shit about who she hurt or how she got what she wanted. Especially when hurting people and taking what she wanted would be so hilariously easy with Leandras.
Again, really bad idea.
The steam from the shower had filled the bathroom with a thick mist, and Jessica turned toward the mirror to eye her foggy reflection.
The purple rune on her neck glowed back at her, no longer spinning. No longer taking stolen moments of time because the effects hadn’t settled.
“This was how you heard me,” she muttered, staring at the rune. “When I wanted to open the Gateway and come back.”
‘Huh. You know, I bet that had something to do with it. But you’re changing the subject. And let me remind you, we don’t exactly have all the time in the world to figure out how badly you still want to torture yourself instead of just doing what needs to be done. So come on. Go tell him you accept his offer and will gladly strap a collar around his neck and pull him along on his slippery fae leash.’
Jessica barely heard the bank’s urging. Trailing her fingers across the glowing design on her neck, she wondered if Leandras’ had known staking her claim on the Gateway with this rune would also enable the bank to hear her from the other side.
Probably not.
The fae man hadn’t known everything about Jessica or the bank when he’d first put his treacherous plans into motion.
Nothing was as it seemed.
Or maybe that only applied to what Ocaiye had seen in Jessica’s memories in that clearing.
Not the memory of Leandras’ lips on this same rune beneath her fingers now. Or how he’d let her be exactly who she was while they tore down all their walls together in the Laenmúr tent, and he hadn’t turned her away.
No, instead, he’d welcomed Jessica the vestrohím exactly as she was.
Sure, they’d destroyed the entire tent, but that could’ve happened anywhere.
‘Wait, wait, wait. Hold the battery!’
“What?”
‘Come on, we already decided the phone’s downstairs taking a nap.’
Jessica lurched away from the bathroom counter and immediately lowered her hand.
‘And you were just thinking about calling...’
“Your metaphors didn’t get any better while I was gone.”
‘Forget my metaphors. What was that?’
Jessica spun around and headed for the shower, which was near scalding and had to be adjusted before she could step under the water and wash Xahar’ásh down the drain. “No idea what you’re talking about, bank.”
‘Oh, yes you do. You let your guard down for five seconds and started thinking about what happened in that mind-wall I can’t climb. Show me more.’
“No.”
‘Okay, here’s what’s up. You either relive the whole thing—before, during, and after—or I start guessing. ’Cause believe me when I tell you that little image of the fae’s mouth on your throat was not a daydream.’
No. All that had definitely happened.
‘Wait. He’s not, like...’ The bank gasped, then finished in a whisper, ‘A vampire. Right?’
Jessica grabbed the shampoo and got to work. “Don’t be stupid.”
‘No, I’m stupefied. Why the hell can’t I see this?’
“Maybe because I don’t feel like playing Truth or Dare with a bank less than an hour after I barely survived coming back through that door.”
‘Fine. Let’s play Truth or Truth. That’s all I want anyway.’
“I’m not talking about it. So drop it.” She lathered her hair, then stepped back under the water again to wash it all away and closed her eyes.
That little trip down memory lane wouldn’t do either of them any good.
One night with Leandras—or however long it was—didn’t change anything. Especially when a little fun with darkwine and vestrohím magic on a pile of cushions had happened before she’d seen who he really was.
‘I am dying over here, witch! What the hell did you two do? And why can’t I just pick out all the pieces on my own?’
“Dunno.”
‘You don’t—Oh for crying out loud. Tell me you didn’t find another Peddler over there.’
No. No more Peddlers. No more stolen memories crashing back to her when she didn’t particularly need them.
Just private memories. And that was where they’d stay.
‘What is this? Why do you know something I don’t? You spent all this time between one mage outside a forest, then nothing, then the forest literally eating itself to—’ The bank stopped abruptly and cleared its throat. ‘Oh. Oh, I get it. Out of time, out of mind, huh?’
“Apparently.” Jessica snatched up the soap and went to town on the layer of otherworld dust still clinging to her wet body.
Here was proof the Laenmúr clearing had actually been as effective as Railen had claimed. If the bank couldn’t sift through her memories in the forest from literally inside her own head, there was no way the forces standing against them had any idea what had happened there.
And Jessica’s time spent in Ahárra had also been hidden from Ocaiye when the freaky witch—or whatever she was—went through everything else in Jessica’s head.
‘Oh, ew.’
“What?”
‘Come on, Jessica. No one likes sloppy seconds.’
She snorted and turned to rinse the soap off her face, exhaling sharply through the sting of so much hot water reviving her more than she’d expected. “You were my first, though.”
‘Doesn’t mean it’s open season for everyone.’
“I knew you were jealous.”
‘Yeah, and maybe I need to shower now too.’ The bank let out a shuddering groan. ‘Feel free to quit thinking about crazy ladies in your head. It’s ruining my view.’
“So you can’t see any of it?”
‘Not unless you’re thinking about it, apparently.’
Well, that was one last bit of privacy she was likely to have before the end of all this.
Because everything she’d discussed with Leandras and Railen meant she wouldn’t be spending much more time alone before the Guardian’s moment came to step up and lead every damn faction on their side toward the finish line.
She’d have even less time on her own if she agreed to help Leandras with his little new-master problem.
“Ever heard of Ahárra?”
‘Nope.’ The bank scoffed. ‘Sounds like a real asshole, though.’
Jessica smirked and turned off the shower before reaching for a towel.
Yeah. Her time with the original Order of Laenmúr was safe.
And honestly, the bank’s assumption wasn’t exactly wrong.
SHE TRIED TO ENJOY the solitude of being in her own room with her own bank in her head again—back where they both belonged, apparently. But knowing Leandras was still downstairs, either
sleeping or sitting in his own wary silence or scheming up some other plan if she refused him made it impossible to relax.
Even opening up the canvas sack and taking out the Heart of Ithríl and the Madraqór to lay on the coffee table beside the Umur’udal didn’t distract her enough. And there was no way in hell she’d be unwrapping the Umur’udal from that hide until it was absolutely necessary.
What piece of the Dalu’Rázj’s flesh had Ocaiye been keeping hidden for thousands of years?
‘Ooh. I’m guessing big chunk of leg.’
Jessica grimaced. “It’s flat.”
‘Sure. Leg skin, then. You know, just a quick slice, and bam. Instant bad-guy trap. Hey, or it could’ve come from between his legs...’
“Wow.” Jessica set down the glowing black orb of the Madraqór and stood. “Way to jump to the worst thing imaginable.”
‘Oh, come on. We don’t even know the Dalu’Rázj even has a body anymore, let alone an anatomically correct one. For meat-sacks, obviously. The ones that breed and—’
“We’re done.” She walked briskly toward her bedroom door, steeling herself against whatever this next conversation would look like.
Anything was better than listening to the bank speculate about magical body parts.
‘Okay, okay. Fine. Where are we going?’
“I am going downstairs.”
‘Obviously. Hence the walking down the stairs. Wanna be a little more specific?’
“Not really.”
‘Yeah, I don’t actually need you to tell me what you’re thinking. Just trying to be polite. Caress it a little, you know? Now that we’re back together again. Jessica Northwood and Winthrop & Dirledge, together forever. Hey, how cool is it that those aren’t our real names?’
Oh, so you have a name? she asked wordlessly, not really wanting Leandras to hear her one-sided conversation on top of her footsteps heading his way.
The bank snorted. ‘Probably. No idea what it is, though. You got a leg up on me with that one.’
The Spellcast Gate (Accessory to Magic Book 5) Page 21