by Jenn Stark
“Understood.” I swung my gaze to Armaeus. “But why were you so worried about her returning to Ireland, not just this In Between place? Surely she’s been back before now.”
The Magician grimaced, but it was Michael who spoke. “She hasn’t. I was not idle in all my years away from the Council. I watched, I saw. Death has never once set foot upon the Emerald Isle, not since she last walked its rich soil three thousand years ago. For her to return is more meaningful than any of us can imagine. Meaningful, and dangerous.”
I shivered, the ink that Death had inscribed down my arm tingling forcefully. “Will they know she’s there?”
“The Tuath Dé? Oh yes. But they’re not the only concern. Death was a druid priestess. That is an ancient and twisting pagan faith that has diminished but never quite died, tucked into the forest primeval of the human soul. When she returns to Ireland, she will not be left to her own devices. Her acolytes will be drawn to her, whether she likes it or not.”
“Haven’t they been drawn to her all this time?”
“Of course, to some degree. But there is something about the rolling hills of Ireland that works a change on the spirit. You’ve been there before?”
“Well, yeah.” I shrugged. “But I don’t remember it all that much. There was a whole lot of Guinness happening on that particular job.”
Michael managed to effect rolling his eyes while still staring straight at me. “If it was some time ago, you can be excused from feeling its effects. But rest assured, Justice Wilde, you’ll feel it this time. Magic found its home millennia ago on the shores of the Emerald Isle. It will respond to you in ways you cannot imagine.”
“Kind of strange words coming from an angel of God.”
“Not at all,” Michael said with a twist to his lips. “When the Lord created the world in the image of all that was good and true, there are those who believe he fashioned Ireland first. Who are we to gainsay them?”
My phone rang in my pocket, the sound jarring all of us. I pulled it out. “It’s Brody,” I said to no one in particular. “He’s got news on the attack in the chapel, though heaven only knows what the LVMPD is making of all this.”
I glanced up to Michael, but he was already looking more transparent. “Okay, give me the rest of it. These Fomorian creatures are responsible for the death of one woman and the kidnapping and probable death of a second. And that’s a very real, very human problem we’re going to have to deal with. Anything else I need to know about them?”
“Only that they know they’re bait,” he said. “And they’re not happy about it.” Then he faded from sight altogether.
“I’ll return to the side of Miss Dawes,” Kreios said, nodding as I shot him a startled glance. “She remains in a coma, but she seems to be closer to the surface when I’m present. I prefer to think of that as a good thing.”
There was nothing in Kreios’s tone to indicate that he was at all concerned, yet he wouldn’t look at me directly. Instead, he turned to the Magician to give him a short nod. A moment later, he also was gone.
Leaving Armaeus and me alone.
I studied the Magician for a long minute, struck anew by how little I still knew about him. He was the Great and Powerful Oz of the Arcana Council, but the curtain he most defiantly refused to pull back was the one shrouding himself. At the same time, he’d opened up his mind and his magic to me like the ultimate playground, encouraging me—often dragging me kicking and screaming—to reach out, discover, explore. He knew so much more about me than I felt I could ever know about him, but he wasn’t holding out on me, exactly. He wanted me to know. He just didn’t want to make it too easy.
Or perhaps couldn’t. The thought whispered through my mind. The Magician had lived a long and twisting life—who knew what deals he’d been forced to strike along the way to reach his current pinnacle of power? Who knew what trials he might yet face to continue surging higher?
Because as all-encompassing as his abilities were, I’d already been faced with an unexpected weakness of his. One that struck all the way to the bone.
He couldn’t heal Nikki.
“Sooo…” I began almost cautiously, shifting my gaze away. “Tell it to me straight. How much do I truly need to worry?”
It seemed impossible to wrap my head around the idea that she was actually sick. Nikki had been an unstoppable force in my life since I’d met her on my first job in Vegas. Back then, she’d been moonlighting as the Council’s chauffeur, ready to drive me anywhere I wanted to go. The idea that I’d not been able to heal her struck a pang of insecurity deep within me.
“Not too much, Miss Wilde,” Armaeus said. There was something odd in his voice however, and I glanced sharply to him. His eyes were not resting on me, but were fixed on some far-off point, as if he were working through a hundred thousand different scenarios with a twitch of his pupil. Maybe he was. “Miss Dawes has a great deal to live for, and far more strength than she has yet revealed. I could give you the probabilities of her recovery versus her decline if you would like, but the odds are overwhelmingly in her favor. Particularly if you leave for Ireland before the festival of Beltane begins.”
“I can leave right now.”
“No, you can’t.” Armaeus shook himself back to the present moment. “Simon must prepare, Death as well, each in their own way. Further, there is more we need to determine about the breach that allowed the Fomorians to gain such a deadly foothold in a mortal. Once that woman dies—which she likely has already, if the ancients haven’t left her—they will be free to roam again. Even if Seamus McCarthy has managed to hide himself, others will be at risk. This is but one incursion of these creatures. There will be others.”
“And then there’s the Tuath dé Danann.”
He nodded. “According to Irish legend, the Fomorians ruled the island before the insurgent Tuath Dé arrived, and their battle for control over the exalted isle was long and harsh. But in the end, the Tuath Dé overthrew the Fomorians and, little by little, edged them from this world entirely.”
“And then Death helped knock the Tuath Dé off the planet in turn. Did she ever come up against the Fomorians?”
“She did not, not directly. By my calculations, however, she will engage them this time. That could prove a deadly choice for her.”
I narrowed my eyes at the pun, trying to decide if it was intentional, then pushed on. “Keep going. What’s going on in this place that’s so horrible, especially to Simon? Why are the Fomorians roaming through there like kids in a fun house if they were so soundly routed all those millennia ago? And, finally, why would Death taking on the lizard guys be so bad?”
“I’ll start with the In Between, because I have so little to say about it.” Armaeus turned to face the window, his jaw working with irritation. “The truth is, I have no knowledge of the Irish passages of the In Between—none. And yet, I have the impression of having had knowledge.”
I blinked. “Um, once more for the cheap seats?”
“Simply this. I know nothing of the In Between, but I should.” He glanced at me, and there was no discounting the frustration in his dark and simmering gaze. “I should. I was born during the dark ages. I excelled in all forms of the mystical arts. Part of my training—a considerable part—included studies of druidic magic. I have a deep and unassailable knowledge of that magic, as well as scores of books, manuscripts, and memories attached to it. But I have not one shred of information in written or memorized form about the In Between. Not where it stretches across the Emerald Isle.”
“But it does exist.”
“It most definitely exists. The lore that I can access—scarcely more arcane than Wikipedia, you should know—suggests it is a quantum physics anomaly, a bending of time and space that allows for instant access between two discrete points. Doorways and passages, opening and closing. The descriptions get more detailed from there, of course, up to and including passageways stretching throughout the world. Those passages are no m
ore better mapped than in Ireland, if you believe the hype. Which I am forced to do, without an alternative source of information.”
“So you’re sending Simon to map it on your behalf.”
“I’m sending Simon to provide me data,” he agreed. “Data I should already have access to. There’s no reason for me not to have it.”
“Makes sense.” I’d known Armaeus long enough to understand that information was his catnip. Being barred from it all these centuries would have been a violation. “So why didn’t you send him in earlier?”
“Because…” The Magician tightened his lips, once again glancing away. “The previous Fools have been too weak of mind or spirit, for all their myriad gifts. I have seen many outcomes, many twists and turns of fate regarding our present, mercurial Fool. In 67.13% of them, Simon dies in a place where I cannot get to him in time. There is currently only one place on this earth that fits that description.”
I’d gone completely still. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I am not. When I discussed it with Death, suffice to say, she’s aware of the probabilities as well. Remember, there are only a few members of the Council who can walk the In Between. How do you think we came by that information?”
“Jeez,” I muttered.
“As to your next question regarding the Fomorians, they can travel through the In Between once again because they have been invited—there’s no other possibility than that. Which means that whether he is Temperance or not, Conal McCarthy is very powerful indeed. And finally, regarding Death confronting the Fomorians…you must understand. She was the vanquisher of those who vanquished them, ages upon ages ago. It’s uncertain how the Fomorians will react to her.”
I lifted my brows. “As in, the enemy of my enemy is my friend?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps. Or perhaps they believe she is merely the first barrier they must break down on their road to redemption. First Death, then the Tuath Dé.”
“And she knows that.” I thought of what Jimmy said about Death, racing after the Fomorians and not finding them in Dixie’s chapel.
“What Death knows of the Fomorians, I cannot say, but I have predicted that outcome as well. The probabilities are—”
“Stop,” I ordered, lifting my hand. “I think it’s safe to say that’s not a percentage I want to know. But she can survive it?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “It would be best if you were there with her. As it would be best if you remain with Simon at all times in the In Between.”
I scowled at him. “You had to throw that last part in there? You couldn’t have simply said yes?”
The Magician bowed slightly. “I prefer being as accurate as possible.”
“Of course you do.” I blew out a long breath. “So, where does that leave us? What else do I need to know?”
Armaeus’s expression grew a touch wearier, and his gaze seemed almost gentle. These were the moments that scared me most about Armaeus. That he knew so much and could only tell me the barest fraction, because the truth might break me.
“At this point, there is nothing I can tell you that will help. You must go to Trinity College tomorrow, and see what you will see. But first, you are needed with the detective.” His eyes got that faraway look again. “There is so much more for us to learn.”
I searched his face—was the bronzed skin paler now than I remembered it? Were the dark eyes more deeply sunk? Any weakness at all in Armaeus was unnerving, and I struggled to fight back a flare of panic.
“Can you come with me?” I asked quietly.
He blinked back to the present moment, and the smile he gave me was soft, almost apologetic. “I cannot. I have much research still to do if we are to find a solution for Nikki. Modern medicine has done many things, but perhaps nothing so valuable as create an expectation of life in the minds of those who believe in its powers. Nikki is graced with a very strong belief. In herself, in you, in me, and in Dr. Sells. She’s in perhaps the best, most supported situation possible, but that doesn’t release me from my obligation to find a cure that will return her to complete health as quickly as possible. Time waits for no man, as they say.”
Another jet of unwarranted panic spurted through me—and not for Nikki this time. For him. For us.
“But you’re not a man,” I reminded the Magician. “And neither am I.”
I lifted my hand as Armaeus’s elegantly arched brows shot up. I stiffened in my resolve to carve this moment, this breath out for the both of us. For someone who commanded extraordinary power in so many ways, the Magician was curiously loath to do anything to disrupt the temporal progression of time. He, more than most, understood the ephemeral nature of our life span upon this planet. Even those who were immortal were not deathless, and our work for the Council was becoming ever more dangerous. Despite that, slowing and even stopping time must take some sort of toll on him for Armaeus not to employ it more. A small part of my mind begged for me to have a care with that toll, but I willed myself to ignore that clamor for a moment.
I needed so little—so very little from the Magician. But I did need this.
“Miss Wilde,” he exhaled softly, lifting his hand to match mine, his eyes suddenly lit with a deep, infernal fire.
And time…simply stopped.
It was as if the heavens themselves were caught in the midst of exhaling, and a curious pressure lifted from me even as the world went silent. I didn’t hesitate. I rushed forward, and Armaeus’s arms opened wide, grabbing me and holding me close as he turned to carry the weight of my body against him. I tilted my head up and his lips came down on mine, and in that kiss, I found absolution, promise, hope, and forever. All the answers to all the questions I never realized I’d been asking. It was like this every time I kissed the Magician, a completeness so immense it made everything else seem impossibly meaningless. I pulled back, hauling in a deep breath, then sagged against him as his hold only tightened, his hot mouth and questing lips roaming up my cheeks, my brow, branding my skin with a trail of scorching kisses, his own need seemingly as great as mine.
“Miss Wilde,” he moaned again.
His breathy sigh set every circuit in my body alight, heat exploding through me with an undeniable, carnal need. I needed him on me, in me, through me, in a way that defied both reason and sensibility. “You draw your power from sex,” I countered. “What sort of lover would I be if I didn’t help you refill your well?”
I didn’t give him a chance to respond, instead pulling his clothes away from his body, ripping his shirt free of his pants as buttons flew. Without lifting a hand, Armaeus stripped my own clothes away, incinerating them in a fiery poof. Within moments, we were both tangled on the floor, naked and driving, skin against skin, heartbeat against heart, magic against magic. As always, the Magician was more than a match for my passion, but I sensed in him a level of urgency I had not sensed before. In this moment, he was more than willing to take from me than ever before, more than willing to siphon the power off that I so desperately wanted to give him.
“Sara,” he whispered, and his use of my given name only heightened the panic building within me. I didn’t know what Armaeus needed, what he wanted, I only knew that I was an open, throbbing current of power, desperate for him to be strong, to be sure—
To be safe.
Another flare of panic shot through me, a stab of ice and fire.
“Armaeus,” I breathed, the word sounding wrenched from my very toes. “Take it. All of it. I’ll give you anything you need, you have to know that.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying.” His words were little more than a moan, but his hands only tightened on me.
I flailed for him as well, blue fire sparking from my fingers. “I don’t need to know. All I need to know is that you love me. That’s it. That’s always been it. Just that you love me.”
He rolled me to my back and levered his body over mine, and I arched beneath him, willing him to seat himself deep
within me. Still, he hesitated, and I reached up and grasped his hips, pulling him down, until finally his shaft sank deep, plunging hard, filling me as I nearly exploded from the surge of electrical power that flowed out from Armaeus, blanketing the world.
“More than magic itself, my beautiful Sara,” he murmured against my hair. “More than magic itself.”
Chapter Fifteen
My eyes snapped open, and I was alone.
Reeling against the conference room table, I gaped at the world around me. The bright sun shining vigorously over the Vegas Strip was proof enough that time had started again while I’d slept bonelessly on the floor of Armaeus’s conference room. I knew it’d started again, but my mind, my body, even my soul seemed to cry out at the shock and wrongness of it all.
Was this why the Magician resisted the urge to stop time so forcefully? Because the human psyche couldn’t process such a violation without wanting to shut down completely?
Either way, I was here, my clothes were here—and Armaeus, of course, was gone. Making him one of the few men alive who would never have to endure the walk of shame.
Sucking in a deep, shuddering breath, I swung my gaze around, trying to get my bearings. I couldn’t afford the time to process what’d just been shared between Armaeus and me, and if I was honest…I didn’t want to process it. I wanted it to stay fixed in place, as pure and inviolate as the stars in a far-off galaxy, a perfect, frozen kaleidoscope.
I didn’t know what the future held with Armaeus—but we’d had that moment, at least, that breath of time out of time. And we would always have that moment.
