Bound to His Redemption

by Lisa Kumar

  “Pancakes. You don’t have them where you’re from?”

  “Something similar, but they’re considerably thicker than this and baked in an oven.”

  “We have those kinds of pancakes here too, though these are more common. Take as many as you want. Then add butter and syrup to your taste.”

  He did so and bit into a forkful. His eyes widened, and he nodded approvingly. “These are quite good.”

  Wow, he was laying on the praise. She liked this milder version of Eamon. If only he’d stick around. “Glad you like them. Don’t forget the other food.”

  As they ate, she knew she had to form some kind of plan. First things first, he needed some clothes that didn’t make him look like a throwback to medieval times. “After we’re done with breakfast, we need to go shopping for clothes. The ones you have don’t quite fit in with current styles here. But I don’t know what to do about your eyes and ears. They’re a dead giveaway you’re not human.”

  “I’ve noticed,” he said drily. “I can glamour them so they’ll be overlooked. Though I much prefer Erian fashions, I know Earth clothing will help me blend in better.”

  Hearing him so casually mention using magic should’ve freaked the heck out of her, but it barely fazed her, which in itself was upsetting. Why had he never glamoured himself around her? Not really wanting to focus on any of that right now, she concentrated on the latter half of what he’d said. “Erian fashions? So you’re Erian?” Whatever that was?

  He set his fork down and took a sip of his orange juice. “I am. The kingdom I hail from is called Eria.”

  Wonder of wonders, he wasn’t only being somewhat nice, but he also was willingly offering up information? She reached under the table and pinched herself. Yep, awake. “So everyone who lives there is like you?”

  His posture stiffened. “You mean elvin?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Most are,” he said slowly as if the words were being dragged from him. “Besides some of other fae blood, there is a small proportion who have some human ancestry.”

  His wording made her wonder about something. “Are there any humans there?”

  He scowled. “Unfortunately.”

  A sick feeling took up residence in her stomach. She was afraid she wouldn’t like where this conversation was going. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Humans have their place — it’s on Earth.”

  “But you’re here.” Surely, there were others of his kind on Earth, even if they were only serving their banishments here. Now she thought of that, maybe she could encourage him to find an enclave of his own kind, and she could foist him on them?

  He lifted that damnable nose in the air. “Elves and humans should remain apart. Humanity often proves itself to be a plague that we’re better without.”

  “Excuse me?” Did he remember whom he was talking to?

  Leveling a dark look on her, he said coldly, “Surely you know your kind’s history? You have a penchant for destroying each other, so it should be no surprise that you seek to do the same thing to other species.” Fury vibrated around him in grayish-purple waves. “Elves had no choice but to leave Earth because of mankind.”

  His last sentence cooled her own ire. “Elves once lived on Earth?”

  “Once we were masters of the Earth.” A faraway look sprang up in his eyes and replaced some of the turbulent emotions swirling around in the gray depths. “We treasured it, but humanity was never content. That was when we went behind the veil, and it removed us to our own dimension.”

  There was nearly an inconceivable amount of information in what he’d just said, and as many more questions left unanswered. So she settled on asking, “All of you left?”

  Her question seemed to snap him back to the present — and to full-fledged cold anger. “A few holdout groups stayed.” A humorless smile tugged at his lips. “Why they’d want to, I don’t know. I can’t image they have any love of humanity, especially now since what’s being done to the Earth has to pain them.”

  “Why would it hurt them?” From the sounds of it, this didn’t seem just like any slight emotional pain, either.

  He pinned her with a look that made her feel two inches tall. “I wouldn’t expect a human to understand.”

  Good Lord, was it ever hard to not tell him off, but she’d get nowhere with him if she did. Keeping a calm head was imperative to finding out what kind of assistance he needed — and to getting him out of her apartment. “Try me. Not all humans are as bad as you think.”

  Silence stretched out between them for a time, with him staring at her as if he were measuring her soul. He probably was, which was a supremely uncomforting thought. Though it took all her willpower, she didn’t fidget.

  Just when she’d reached her breaking point, he spoke. “We’re connected to nature. Our magic is partially fed by its energies, so to say we rely on nature is an understatement.”

  Okay, that explained a bit but not much. And there was that mention of magic again. She hadn’t seen him do any, though. “What do you mean by partially? What kind of magic are you talking about?”

  Again, he didn’t answer right away. He picked up his knife and toyed with it. Though he turned the utensil over repeatedly and slid his fingers along the edge, he never looked at it. Still, the action was particularly disturbing because of the rage boiling beneath his frosty facade. It practically steamed off him in roiling purple-gray waves. Thank God, the knife was just a flatware one and not a sharper knife.

  Still playing with the utensil, he finally answered. “To understand even the concept of magic in Eria, you need to know about the veil, or the mist as we sometimes call it. The mist is what separated us in two different dimensions.”

  His voice was flat as if he were reciting something from rote memory. A shiver snaked up her spine. He was creeping her out, but she forced herself to focus on his next words.

  “It’s an elemental type of magic that underpins all nature in Eria and therefore all magic there. Nature feeds back into the veil and fuels it in return. Most elves are capable of nature magic and some simple spells of safety and protection.”

  “So why is elvin magic only partially powered by nature if the veil’s magic supports everything?”

  “Because of Earth.” His hate-filled tone cracked like a whip.

  “Wha-what does Earth have to do with?”

  He slammed his knife tip first into the remaining stack of pancakes. When the blade hit the plate underneath, it made a horrible scraping, cracking noise. She started and banged her knee against the table. Her heart trying to leap from her throat, she shrunk back in her chair as she watched him.

  He bent over the table and got right up in her face, baring his teeth. “Earth apparently has everything to do with it. This discussion is done.”

  She nodded warily, not insane enough to push the issue. He definitely wasn’t right in the head. Swallowing her fear, she stood. “Why don’t you get ready for our shopping trip? I’ll clear up in here.”

  Like a balloon receiving a pinprick, his fury deflated. “What am I to dress in? I can’t wear these” — he pinched the fabric of his night pants between thumb and finger — “and my leggings are filthy.”

  She bit her lip, pretending to think about the clothing issue but really attempting to get her runaway pulse under control. Archie came over to her, a welcome diversion, and she reached down to scratch his head. “Though I can wash the clothes you came here in, they’ll still stick out as strange. Best that we see if I have anything else of my dad’s stashed in my closet.”

  Now that her mind was actually calming down enough to settle on the problem of finding something for Eamon, inspiration struck. She nearly smiled as an odd moment of humor hit her. Oh, the elegant Eamon was going to love this. What divine retribution. “In fact, I think I may have just the thing that’ll fit you okay.”

  She led him back to her closet with a grin tugging at her lips. If she remembered correctly, she knew just wher
e that pair of sweatpants and T-shirt were.

  Chapter 9

  Eamon eyed the deathtrap Caralyn wanted him to get in. Well, she called it a car, but he was of a differing opinion. He hadn’t liked vehicles when they’d passed him on the street. The idea of riding in one was infinitely worse. His skin crawled at the very thought of it.

  Caralyn sighed and opened the passenger door for him with a gloved hand. “Come on. I’m getting cold.”

  He made a derisive sound. Pressuring him would get her nowhere.

  “I promise it won’t bite,” she said with exaggerated patience.

  “I know these things take some kind of flammable liquid in order to function. Are you sure it won’t explode?”

  “Unless I crash, it shouldn’t,” she said, smiling with so much cheer that he was tempted to throttle her.

  He sent her a dark look instead. “That’s reassuring.”

  “Happy to set you at ease.”

  Just to stop her prattling, he ducked down and slid into the vehicle. The fist of death didn’t close about him, not that he expected it to — yet. Caralyn walked around to the other side and got in.

  As she pressed a button below the wheel and a lever near the floor, the car rumbled to life. Eamon’s breakfast threatened to come back up. Nothing about this contraption was natural. He curled his fists tighter until his nails were piercing skin.

  After she adjusted a few knobs that blasted cold air at him, Caralyn slanted him a look. “You okay?”

  “Fine,” he all but rasped out.

  Seemingly satisfied with that, she grabbed a belt that hung to the left of her and pulled it across her body. The restraint clicked into place. “Fasten your seatbelt.”

  By the Green Mountains, didn’t the human notice he was trying not to lose his breakfast all over the seat? “Why?”

  “It’s to keep you from flying through the windshield if there should be an accident.”

  Nausea punched a hole in his stomach. Glaring at her, he reached for the belt. “I dislike you intensely right now.”

  She grinned. “Right back at you. Now let’s go.” Glancing at him, she asked, “Why don’t you have your glamour in place?”

  “I do.”

  “No, you don’t. I can see your weird cat eyes and your pointy ears.”

  He frowned and double-checked his glamour. The familiar tingle of magic buzzed in his head. All was as it should be, so why could she see through the glamour? And had she been able to see through the charm before he’d dropped it after arriving at her apartment last night? “When we were at the park, did I have a glamour on?”

  “No,” she said, her brow furrowed. “Why?”

  Unease built in his chest. He’d have to think further upon this matter because it didn’t make any sense. “Because I had one in place, and now I have to determine why you can see past it.”

  A look of worry played across her face. “Oh.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “I guess we should go.”

  Pleased she was willing to dismiss the subject for now, he nodded and endeavored to do the same. There’d be time later to ponder the mystery.

  As she drove the car out of the parking lot and onto the street, he forced himself to breathe normally in spite of his pounding heart. It wouldn’t do to hyperventilate, especially in front of the human. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to be going terribly fast, as there were quite a few of those lights that controlled traffic. A number of people bustled along the sidewalks, bundled up against the cold. He glanced at the clock that was displayed on some kind of console — it was nearly ten in the morning.

  A light snow had fallen during the night, somewhat covering the dirty snowbanks that lined the roads and sidewalks. Colorful assortments of garland, ornaments, and lights littered windows, light poles, and every other conceivable surface that humans could use. People here called them Christmas decorations. He’d have to ask Caralyn exactly what that meant but later, not now. The urge to speak had deserted him.

  At least the air coming from those slots set into the area in front of him was now warm. Since last night, he’d been luxuriating in the feel of finally being free from the cold. Even their short trek out to her car hadn’t destroyed his contentment of no longer having to be a perpetual icicle. His current clothing probably had something to do with that. He grimaced down at the ensemble of long-sleeved T-shirt, gray sweatpants, and something Caralyn called a hoodie. Though they were all soft and comfortable, he felt as if he were going out in his nightclothes.

  And the hoodie — what in the Mystics was that kind of name? The word was uncouth-sounding, but since the actual covering was inelegant, he guessed they matched. Still, the jacket did its function well enough, keeping him warm and concealing the blade at his waist.

  Caralyn turned off the street they’d been on and entered a huge road with lines painted on the surface that seemed to make six separate lanes. The other vehicles whizzed by as she slowed to merge. Damnation, was she trying to kill them? Such speeds were insane — humanity had gone mad.

  Though it’d do him little good, he clutched onto the seat with a steel grip that soon had his fingers aching. The temptation to close his eyes nearly overtook him, but he’d not embarrass himself further. “What manner of lunacy is this?” he asked, glaring at her as if she’d designed this whole experience to torment him. And maybe she had.

  A frown furrowed her brows as she pulled into one of the lanes. “What?”

  “This road.”

  Her face cleared, and she shrugged. “Highways like this are so we can travel faster.” As if to prove her words, she sped up, and the car roared forward.

  He suppressed a shudder. “Well, it’s insane.”

  “That’s funny, coming from you,” she said with a snort.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Her lips twitched as if she wanted to smile. “Nothing.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re enjoying my discomfort.” It was a statement, not a question.

  Glancing his way, she offered him a sweet smile. “You bet. And you’re making it so easy.”

  He retreated into silence because he wouldn’t dignify that with a response. What was she but an ignorant human, anyway? Trying to find some measure of comfort, he looked out the window. That was a mistake. They appeared to be on some kind of bridge, and the buildings below ghosted by. His stomach lurched.

  Her voice broke his hard-won solitude. “You’re sulking.”

  “I don’t sulk.”

  “Too noble for that, huh?”

  He sneered. “What would you know of nobility, mortal?”

  “Apparently more than you do.”

  “You are fantasizing. I haven’t met a human who had an abundance of that quality.” He’d learned the difficult way that humanity never kept their promises, instead preferring death and bloodshed. His mother’s death had been proof of that.

  She sighed, frustration in the very sound. “Stop judging humanity, when it’s clear you don’t know or understand us.”

  “I know your kind all too well.”

  “I don’t know your story, but not all humans are the same, just as I’m sure all elves are not. Most probably aren’t jerks like you.”

  “If I ignore that last part, your assertion would normally be reasonable, but not when it concerns humans.”

  She thumped her hand against the steering wheel, looking adorably peeved, and slowed as a vehicle passed in front of them. “I give up. You’re hopeless.”

  He bit back a smile. Now she wasn’t having so much fun at his expense. “I’m glad you recognized the futility of attempting to change my mind.”

  “There’s no hope for the ignorant and those who don’t want to see the truth,” she said quietly.

  “Now, now, you shouldn’t describe yourself in such terms.”

  “Definitely not talking about myself, so that only leaves one other person in the car.”

  He clapped. “Very witty. I didn’t know humans could
think that far.”

  “See? There’s a lot you don’t know about us.”

  “I know all I need to, which is more than enough.”

  “While I hate to bring this fascinating conversation to a close, we’re almost to the department store,” she said, her tone mild.

  Caralyn exited the highway and turned onto a four-lane road that was crowded with vehicles. Worse, she soon pulled into a huge parking lot, where a rambling one- and two-story building loomed. There were only a few bare trees dotting the landscape. Everything else consisted of brick, wood, and the material that humans called concrete. It was a place largely devoid of nature, and he’d never felt the loss of it so strongly before. Before arriving on Earth, he’d never much concerned himself with nature, maybe because he’d always been surrounded by it.

  “What is that?” he asked, distaste in his words.

  “The mall, a place I just know you’ll love.”

  He smothered a groan. Her syrupy voice implied otherwise — that he’d loathe it.

  And he did. Every minute from the time they climbed out of the car and strolled into the mall was excruciating. First, the glass doors into the entrance of the mall slid open as if propelled by magic. Fear and awe flowed through his veins. He jumped back slightly, his hand going to the small dagger and belt he kept hidden beneath his jacket.

  This piece of magic before him shouldn’t be possible, so he cast a look about for the perpetrator but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Well, what he supposed was ordinary. He did, however, glare at a few people who stared askance at him. The nerve! Humanity was becoming bold. To his satisfaction, they quailed under his power and scurried through those bewitched glass doors. Their unhesitant entry, however, concerned him.

  Since when were the few humans capable of magic willing to flaunt it in front of others? When elves had left Earth, humans had been increasingly fearful of magic, and those humans who had some mastery of it wisely kept it hidden.

  Caralyn grabbed his arm, pulling him off to the side, and whispered, “What are you doing?”