“What if it means everyone’s lives?” He let the question hang in the air between us, seeping into my bones and churning in my gut. “What you’re not taking into consideration is that you’re bigger than just yourself. You are, in no small way, the one hope of peace in our world. You’re the connection between the Supplicants and the Conduits. You’re the ticket to being out from under the thumb of the Brothers. You’re as damn close to a queen as I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m not a queen,” I said immediately.
I couldn’t have anyone counting on me like that. Once upon a time, I’d thought that being royalty would be awesome…but now, not so much after everything I’d seen.
“Tell that to the people counting on you,” Ramsey said. “Tell it to the future generations, who dream of growing up in a world of peace and prosperity. Tell it to the people who look to you, who hear your story and have hope.” He looked down at the ground. “And, while you’re at it, tell them that the life of your friend is more important than they are.”
I saw it—the condemnation in his eyes. The way he thought that I would actually choose one person’s life over the rest of the world.
“That’s not what this is about,” I whispered, dejected. As much as I wanted to say that it wasn’t, we both knew that everyone else would see it that way.
“I’m afraid that may not be how they see it.” Ramsey strolled a few paces away from the dumpster, hands tucked in his pockets. He didn’t look at me as he spoke. “What happened to Huntsman was unfortunate, but it’s not a world-ending problem. In fact, if I had to pick someone to wield the powers of the djinn, I’d want it to be someone with that man’s temperament.”
“Except it wouldn’t be his temperament. It would be whatever madman found his bottle.” I pointed a finger at Ramsey. “Besides, it’s wrong. Huntsman is my friend, and I won’t let an innocent man suffer. What kind of person would I be if I let that happen?”
“I’m not sure,” Ramsey said, stealing a quick glance over his shoulder at me before looking toward the ground again. “But something tells me I’ll never have to find out.”
“You’re damn right,” I said, nodding firmly and crossing my arms. “I know I have responsibilities to the world, but I also have responsibilities to myself. I have to be able to look at myself in the mirror. I have to be able to sleep at night. I have to know I’m not doing this for nothing.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I just have to.”
“I understand that, and I respect it,” Ramsey said. He stood with his back to me for a long moment before turning to face me again. “But, keep in mind, this won’t be easy. Even if this isn’t a trap, and I’m not convinced that it isn’t, having Abram back in his current state will be difficult for you. He was going to kill you when we last met. He would have succeeded if I hadn’t gotten us portaled out of there.”
“I can’t think about that right now,” I said, closing my eyes and trying to ignore the fact that he was right. “Let’s just find him. Then we’ll deal with the fact that he wants me dead, or at least wants to hurt me.” I sighed, and then smiled as best as I could. “One impossible task at a time, right?”
Opening my eyes, I found Ramsey smirking at me. “Seems all in a day’s work for the great Charisse Bellamy.”
“Don’t oversell me,” I muttered.
“Oh, Charisse,” he said, and there was something like pride in his eyes as he took me in. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
“I wish I had your confidence,” I grumbled again, shaking my head and thinking about all the things I had been through in the last year.
I had gotten through so much that no one should have been able to survive. But the thing was, I got through them mostly because of Abram—not by any great skill of my own. Now he was gone, and the thing taking his place bore very little resemblance to the man I loved. There was no way that I could do all this on my own.
The idea of soldiering on the way I always had was more than a little troublesome. What if I couldn’t do this? What if I found that, on my own, I was no match for the horrors that lay in my path? What if the terrible things that were out there haunted me every step of the future?
“I think,” Ramsey said, smiling a little and breaking through the darkness that had overtaken me, “when you need it, it will come.”
And, just like that, I really believed that I wasn’t alone.
I might not have had Abram, at least not Original Recipe Abram, but I had my friends. What was more, I was still Charisse Bellamy, damn it, and that meant something.
The only problem was, none of that changed the dangers that lay ahead, and I couldn’t shake the unease churning in my stomach.
Would I really risk the entire world to save one person?
Chapter 9
I shuffled uneasily to the small kitchen table as I tried to zip up a dress I hadn’t worn in over a year. I couldn’t get it the last bit, but I turned around and lifted my hair while Ramsey silently did it the rest of the way up.
I spun back to face him, more confused than ever. “I’m not sure I understand what’s happening here,” I said, smoothing some of the wrinkles in my dress above my thighs. “You said we were going to find Abram. What does that have to do with a candlelit dinner?”
In front of me was a plate of spaghetti that looked more than a little al dente, burned garlic bread, and mashed together meatballs that would have made my Italian grandmother roll over in her grave while asking me why I would hurt her like this with such subpar food.
What was more, Ramsey insisted on me wearing this dress, a white number that hugged my ample curves in all the right ways and plunged at both the neckline and in the back.
It was certainly a sexier dress than I would have worn to cast a spell, maybe even the seierst dress that I had worn since before Abram had left. Although, as I stood there in the kitchen, I couldn’t help but feel like I was back in my element. After all, I’d spent the majority of my adult life walking down runways wearing less clothing than this.
At least I knew that I looked good, regardless of whatever craziness Ramsey would have me doing.
“This is the spell,” Ramsey said, taking a black candle—a relic that Satina had taught me held much in the way of dark energy—and lighting it before setting it between us.
“This?” I asked, looking down at myself and grimacing. The truth was, I did look damn good in my dress, and it’d been a long time since I’d gotten this dolled up. I’d even gotten my nails done and painted a deep coral for the first time since I’d began training with Ramsey. “Me getting all dressed up and sitting down to a frankly pretty crappy dinner is part of the spell? No offense,” I said, “but I could have made better spaghetti in my sleep.”
“Well, then you should have,” Ramsey snarked.
I sat down across from him. To any outsider, it would look like two friends sharing a meal. Him eating the spaghetti. Me pushing the pasta around on the cheap white plate with my fork. Just two friends having dinner...not some dark magic spell.
“Doesn’t this seem familiar to you?” he asked, chuckling softly. He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I wouldn’t take offense to the dinner, because you were the one who made it. At least, a year or so ago, you did.”
I balked. “I did what?”
Then, looking at the scene with fresh eyes, it came back to me. This dinner, this dress, this table setting—it was all a replica of a date I had with Abram last year. I’d made such a mess of the dinner because I didn’t know how to cook then. Well, that and the fact I was so giddy about being able to spend time with Abram.
As I took all of this in, I unexpectedly found myself blinking back tears. All of the memories hit me like a ton of bricks, and I didn’t know what to do.
I took my first bite of the spaghetti Ramsey had cooked, and somehow it tasted better than I remembered, even though it looked just as bad as it had when I ruined it. Maybe that was the nostalgia kicking in, because I knew for a fact that it was still terrib
le.
“I was going through your photo album when you were gone,” Ramsey said by way of explanation.
Huntsman walked in with two dessert plates of tiramisu in his hands, crossing the yellow kitchen floor tiles. “Something of which I completely disagreed with,” he said. “Going through your things, I mean. Not the food. I’m still starving.”
“The dessert was garbage, too,” I said almost wistfully.
“The scent certainly speaks to that.” Huntsman sniffed and set the plates on the counter in a similar position to where they’d been the night this actual date took place. It’d been from the freezer aisle, so I’d had it set aside to thaw while we ate at the kitchen table, all the while hoping Abram wouldn’t object too loudly.
“It’s okay,” I said, blinking hard and taking a deep breath. “The photo albums are no big deal. I don’t mind you looking through them, especially if it helps us.”
“This sort of magic—the kind I’m trying to use—it relies heavily on a person’s connection with another,” Ramsey said. “I have to dig into that connection at its most fundamental level. Only then can I hope to do what needs to be done.”
“Really?” I scrunched my nose. “It seems to me that a garden variety locator spell would do the trick. I mean, I’m sure he’s guarded, but how intense could that guarding be? Plus, we just had contact with him. That should make it easier to pick up on his scent, so to speak.”
“This isn’t about finding him,” Ramsey said. “I can find Abram. It would take some elbow grease, and I might have to get a little closer to the rough end of the magical spectrum than I would like, but now that he’s back in the city, pinpointing his location isn’t impossible. What I’m trying to do is find the real him.”
“What?” I swallowed hard and stood instinctively. I set my fork down, allowing the bitter tomato sauce to stain the napkin next to my plate. “You’re talking about actually bringing him back?”
“I am,” Ramsey said flatly. “That’s the only way to get to the bottom of all this.”
“You told me that was impossible.” I narrowed my eyes, trying to not let feelings of betrayal cloud my ability to process our conversation. We all knew that I was hotheaded on a good day. This was definitely not a good day. “You stood there, dead-eyed in the alley, and explained to me that the Abram I would be dealing with wouldn’t be the person I knew. You told me he would very likely want me dead. You told me that he’d try to kill me if he could, just to keep me away from him.”
“Wanting and having are two very different things, Charisse,” Huntsman answered with a grimace. He adjusted one of the tiramisu plates slightly on the counter, a side effect of his compulsion for things to be perfect. “If he comes near you with malice in his heart, it will be the last thing he ever does.”
The idea of a no holds barred battle between Huntsman and the new Abram struck me as the worst of all possible outcomes. It was a situation where, literally, no one could win. One of them would end up dead, and the winner would most likely follow shortly after. They were too evenly matched. Still, it meant something that the man thought highly enough of me to throw down a gauntlet like that, and mean it with every bit of his being.
“I told you those things because, in all likelihood, they’re true,” Ramsey said. “The magic I’m pulling at is dark and dangerous, which is why I felt the need to make you aware of the risks. Even with a ton of skill and some hope, the magic is volatile; the chances of Abram coming back exactly the way you knew him are not good. Still, it’s worth a try, if you are willing to take the chance and agree with what I want to do.”
“If I agree?” I scoffed. “Is that a joke? If so, it’s not very funny. Of course I agree with whatever you have cooking in that brain of yours. It’s literally the only thing I’ve wanted since the moment Abram left and you told me I could never get him back.” Reading the concerned look on Ramsey’s face, I shook my head. “Before you even ask: yes, I heard you. I know the likelihood is crappy, but a long shot with a tiny chance of success is better than none at all.” I steadied myself. “I’ll take what I can get.”
“Okay, then,” Ramsey said, setting his own fork down much neater next to his plate than I’d set mine. “In that case, I need to warn you that, in order to connect with the Abram that he used to be, I’ll have to dive deep into your subconscious. I’ll have to get at your memories of the man and use them to find a semblance of the psyche he used to have. Assuming it’s in there somewhere and the shards of it aren’t too broken, I can rebuild his psyche using your memories to fill in the gaps.”
“And what of her?” Huntsman asked, his jaw a rigid line of worry. “What sort of dangers does Charisse face because of this procedure?”
“I don’t care about the danger,” I said instinctively, my hands firming into fists at my sides. “Just do it.”
“As brave and selfless as that might seem, there are more people to consider, Charisse,” Huntsman said. “This is all happening because of me, and I won’t have one of the finest people I’ve ever met meet her end just to save a life that, some say, should have ended long ago.”
“Who would ever say that about you?” I asked, looking at Huntsman with nothing but love and respect.
“More people than you would think.” Huntsman leaned his forearms on the counter and stared across the way at me. “I have made many enemies in my lifetime, Charisse. Even those who do not hate me might believe I have lived long enough.” He averted his gaze toward a window above the kitchen sink. “Perhaps I believe that as well.”
I watched as the truth filtered through his being. Huntsman was giving up, and he expected me to sit back and just be okay with his decision. Well, I wasn’t.
“Too bad,” I said, getting angrier by the second. “None of us get to choose when we die, Huntsman. That’s not the way it works. You might be tired. Lord knows, I can understand that. The truth is, there’s still more work to do for both of us. Besides, what you would be facing isn’t death. It’s something much worse. So, with all due respect to your chivalry and whatever other outdated nonsense you’re about to throw my way, the truth is, it’s my life, and I’ll risk it anytime I damn well please.” I nodded at the man, slightly out of breath. “Is that clear?”
My chest was heaving, and they were both looking at me with a sense of fear and admiration.
Huntsman smiled a little as he pushed away from the counter and drummed his hands on the ledge. “Women of this age don’t exactly wait for princes to come sweep them off their feet, do they?”
“No,” I replied. “I much prefer standing on my own, thank you very much.”
Turning back to Ramsey, I found him circling the candle in salt. He knew I wasn’t going to let Huntsman talk me down, and he was preparing just the same.
“Sit back down,” he said without looking at me, passing around the candle with a second circle of the white granules. “The memory of this night, of the date you shared with Abram and the picture of it you stuck in your photo album, will serve as an anchor. Let the memories wash over you. Think about the man you love, about the reasons you love him, and about the things that piss you off, too. We don’t want a perfect version of him, Charisse. We want him as he was, everything you both loved and hated about the man. Having the whole picture is the only way that we’ll be able to have even a glimmer of hope for this to work.”
“Even his ugly bits were sexy,” I muttered petulantly, sitting back down with a huff.
“Good,” my mage said. “Then it won’t be difficult or cumbersome for you to call them to mind.”
He threw some sort of sand on the candle, and the flame went from white to pitch black.
“I don’t like the look of that,” I whispered.
“They’re intense magics,” he said. “You know that a black flame does not mean darkness or evil. Just brace yourself. The memories could be overwhelming. You might find yourself lost in them.”
“Lost in memories of Abram?” I asked. “I can think of
a few worse things that could happen.”
“Good,” Ramsey replied thoughtfully. “Now close your eyes and think of him.”
I took a deep, shaky breath as I let my eyelids fall closed and called him to mind, as though he weren’t always there.
The vision of him came easily, starting right with the first time I fell into his arms, quite literally. I smiled to myself. I had fallen head over heels into him. Right down the stairs to his basement club where he caught me just outside the door, gazed down at me, and murmured something about the freckle in my eye.
He was deviously handsome, even then. He was also the epitome of stubborn, mysterious, old-fashioned, outdated, and too serious for his own good.
That stubbornness and anger turned to fire and passion over time. With him, I found love and happiness in a way I had never thought or expected could happen.
As infuriating as he could be at times, I wouldn’t want to change a hair on his head if I were lucky enough to get him back.
He made me feel emotions I didn’t even know existed.
I felt the pull of something like sleep. Only, this wasn’t sleep. This was something deeper, something darker. This was a true calm, an endless tunnel of nothingness. But it was all right. It was peace. It was tranquility. It was transformative.
“What are you doing?” a voice asked me, light and free.
My eyes flung open, and I was back in the old apartment. The one I’d shared with Abram.
The same dinner sat in front of me, burnt and unappetizing. Across from me, though, sat the man I would give anything for.
Abram looked back at me with kind and fiery eyes. His eyes. The eyes I craved with every fiber of my being.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, the edges of his mouth crooking up into a smile. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” His voice held that same accent, the one he’d been missing in the abandoned building earlier.
“You,” I whispered. “You’re here.” I reached out to touch him, and when my fingers met his skin, I almost fainted.
Granted by the Beast: A Steamy Paranormal Romance Spin on Beauty and the Beast (Conduit Series Book 4) Page 7
