Heart of Stone

by Christine Warren

  “Then puberty hit.”

  Ella stopped again and tried to fight back the tears. How she even had any left, she couldn’t understand, but there they were. And they wanted out.

  “Tell me,” Kees repeated, and his hand stroked over her hair all the way down her back.

  The touch soothed her, gave her strength. She even felt a warm glow and wondered if this was part of the energy exchange the binding spell had caused. If it was, she could have used it earlier, when she’d been about to throw up her spleen.

  She sighed. “Right before I turned twelve, I got my first period, and I started to see things again. Only this time, there was more. Stuff started to happen around me. light bulbs blew out, TVs changed channels, computers crashed. Sometimes, stuff even moved. If my parents had been religious instead of scientific, they probably would have decided we had a poltergeist.”

  “It was the magic.”

  “Yeah. Sometimes I could see it and see that it was coming from me, but I had absolutely no control over it. I happened even when I was trying to hold it back. In fact, when I least wanted it to happen was when it always seemed to.”

  Kees squeezed her gently. “Stress. And hormones, I hear. The average teenaged mage does quite a bit of property damage before he learns self-control.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  He chuckled, then waited quietly for her to go on.

  “Since my parents didn’t believe in ghosts, they thought there had to be a perfectly logical explanation for everything that was going on. They also agreed that I was causing everything. Which, in a way, I was, I guess.”

  “You were a child, Ella.” He rumbled softly.

  “Anyway, they decided they needed to find an explanation, and then a solution. So when I was twelve, they took me to see a psychiatrist.”

  Kees stiffened. The hand on her back went still. “Your parents thought you were mad?”

  She snorted softly. “My parents thought I was acting out. The psychiatrist was the one who thought I was crazy.”

  She heard another low sound of displeasure, which seemed to start in Kees’s toes and climb into his throat, building intensity all the way. She marveled at the idea that his immediate reaction to the story was to believe in her, to defend her, to be outraged in her behalf. She savored it, because she knew that soon enough, he would hear what she had done, and he wouldn’t ever feel the same way again.

  “They found an expert in child psychology in Coquitlam. He came highly recommended.” Her tone, she knew, indicated her opinion of those recommendations. “I didn’t like him. I don’t remember much about the evaluation interview. I remember that he spent a lot of time just watching me, not talking, and I remember that he looked dark to me, and cold. But I don’t remember what questions he asked me, or how I answered. For a child psychiatrist, I don’t think he liked kids very much. He didn’t seem to like me.”

  Ella knew she was stalling. She felt so comfortable, so safe, curled up in Kees’s embrace. She felt loved. He was being so sweet, so patient and protective, that she wanted to put off telling him the truth. She was afraid that when he pushed her away again, she would break.

  He stroked her back again, his fingers kneading her shoulders with gentle strength. “Tell me,” he repeated a third time.

  “After the doctor spoke to me, he wanted to speak to my parents right away. He took them into another room, so I never heard exactly what he told them, but when they came out, I could tell they were upset. I didn’t care. I just wanted to get out of there and go home. The appointment was on a Thursday, and Friday, the next day, we were supposed to head up to the cabin. I could hardly wait.

  “I fell asleep in the car on the way home. I used to take a lot of naps that year. All the stuff that was happening—” She corrected herself. “All the magic used to wear me out. I’d be exhausted just staying conscious some days.”

  Kees made a sound, something understanding, but he didn’t speak. He just waited for her to continue.

  “I woke up because they were arguing. It had just gotten dark, because we’d been stuck in traffic leaving Coquitlam after a wreck or something. Dad was driving, but he and Mom were fighting. They never fought, so I guess their voices woke me. And then I realized they were fighting over me.”

  Her throat tightened, and she tried to swallow. “They didn’t think I was listening, and I heard that the doctor had told them I needed to be committed. Not only did he think I was crazy, he thought I was a danger to myself and others and that I needed to be put in the hospital.”

  She heard his snarl and knew he was about to rush to her defense, but she didn’t want to hear it. If she didn’t finish the story, if she didn’t get through this now, she never would. Ella pushed against his chest until he released her. Sitting up, she shifted away from him and drew her knees up against her chest.

  “The thing was,” she continued tightly, “they weren’t arguing about the diagnosis. One of them didn’t disagree, or want a second opinion; they both agreed with him that I was crazy. They just couldn’t agree on when I should go to the hospital. The doctor had wanted to commit me immediately, that afternoon, but Dad had held out. He wanted us to have the weekend together, up here, at the cabin. He said next week was soon enough for the hospital. My mother was arguing with him. The doctor had scared her, and she was afraid something might happen if they didn’t bring me back right away.”

  Ella shuddered and closed her eyes tight as the memories flooded her. “I got so damned angry. It made me furious. I thought they loved me, that they were there to protect me, and they were talking about sending me away, about locking me up in a mental hospital. It wasn’t even a question of ‘if’ from them. All they had to decide was when.”

  She buried her face in her drawn-up knees and curled her hands into fists. She wanted to scream, to hit something, which was exactly how she’d felt that night. She’d been betrayed by the people she trusted most in the world. She’d thought they loved her, but now they were pushing her away, abandoning her.

  “I lost it.” She didn’t lift her head. She knew her voice was muffled by her position, but she couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t look at his face while she told him the truth. With his supernatural senses, she knew he could hear her. “I completely lost it. I started screaming in the backseat. Dad nearly swerved off the road, and Mom went a little bonkers. At first she tried to calm me down, but I wouldn’t shut up. I couldn’t. I’d never been so angry in my life. I wanted to hurt them, because they’d just hurt me so damned badly.”

  She fought back the sobs, but she couldn’t control the shaking. “Mom was yelling, and then Dad started yelling, just trying to be heard over the two of us, I think. He was trying to calm us down, but I was completely out of control. And then the magic just … exploded.”

  Ella shuddered, trapped in her memory. She could see the blinding flash of light, feel the almost painful release as the power overwhelmed her and shot forth from her body, like the way it had when she released it at Kees that first night. But when she was a kid it had felt even wilder, more dangerous, more out of control. It had filled the car.

  She remembered the screaming, the sound of car horns, a second flash of light. She felt the impact all over again, the violent grasp of her seat belt against her hips and chest, the horrible crunch of metal on metal. The blood.

  She would never forget the smell of blood.

  “I killed them,” she whispered. “I killed my parents. I lost control and the magic took over. There was a huge car wreck. Our station wagon, another car, and a huge cargo truck. My parents both died on impact. We hit the other car head-on. That driver died, too, and the truck plowed into us from behind. It was an old truck, no airbags, only a lap belt restraint. His spine snapped on impact. The cargo compartment of the station wagon completely crumpled, but the backseat remained intact. I was the only one who walked away.

  “And it was all my fault.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kees l
ooked down at his little human and knew once and for all that he had a heart, because he felt it break.

  He reached out for her and winced when she flinched away from his touch. The sound of her sobbing cut him deeper than the nocturnis’s enchanted dagger. That wound had already closed and was well on the way to healing. He thought he might feel this blow forever.

  The next time he reached for her, he ignored the way she recoiled. He didn’t care if she wanted to be touched. Whether she wanted it or not, his little human needed to be held.

  She also needed to understand that what she had told him about killing her parents had been complete and utter nonsense.

  First, though, he needed to calm her down again.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his lap, arranging her once again against his chest. He felt a surge of amusement as he realized the familiar position was quickly becoming a habit, one he had no hesitation in enjoying. Kees liked the way his little human felt in his arms. He wanted to keep her there.

  Ella continued to cry while he held her. After her earlier bout, he wondered where all the moisture came from, then reached for the abandoned glass of water and made her drink some more. She must be getting dehydrated.

  Again she fought him, and again he persisted until she gave in and sipped. This time, he didn’t let up until she’d drained the glass.

  She had obviously worn herself out again. He could tell by the way she wasn’t banging her toes or heels against his lower leg or trying futilely to force his arms to unwrap from around her. Instead, she just lay quietly against his chest until her sobs faded into quiet.

  Kees waited until he felt her muscles begin to unclench before he hooked a finger under her chin and raised her face to his.

  “Look at me, little human,” he commanded. Reluctantly, she met his gaze. “Understand this. I listened to every word you just told me. I heard everything you said, and I want you to know that you are a fool.”

  Ella jerked and nearly fell off his lap. Kees merely tightened his grip.

  “You don’t understand—”

  He cut her off. “I understand perfectly. You think that the magic inside you killed your parents. You think that you bear responsibility for their deaths and that because of that, you are an evil person. It’s all nonsense.”

  “I did kill them,” she ground out, her hands fisted as he held her implacably on his lap, ignoring any attempt to move away. “I was there. I remember. Everything was fine until I lost control. I’m the reason we crashed, and I’m the reason they died.”

  Her conviction echoed in her words. She truly believed herself to be a killer, some sort of monstrous creature capable of killing even those she loved the most. He remembered her reaction to the death of the nocturnis and wanted to laugh. He had never met a human—met any creature—as far from murderous as his little human. She had the softest heart and the tenderest soul he had ever encountered.

  That fact helped explain why she carried such guilt over the deaths of her parents, and why she had woken in the night screaming. Tonight, she had seen another human die, and once again, she blamed herself. Taking a life must have dredged up all her painful old memories and only confirmed the opinion she had of herself.

  Kees understood completely. The only question was if he could convince Ella.

  “You know that I have slept for a long time,” he began slowly, “and I admit that my understanding of the way human authorities operate is not necessarily complete, but I believe that vehicular accidents like the one you describe are routinely investigated. Are they not?”

  She nodded, clearly wary of his train of thought.

  “Then did the human authorities conclude that you caused your parents’ deaths? And that of the other drivers as well? Were you blamed? Did they tell you the accident was your fault?”

  “They didn’t need to. I lived through it. I was the only one who lived through it.” Her voice held a wealth of bitterness, and not the slightest hint of forgiveness for the little girl she had been, nor for the woman she was today.

  Kees bit back a sigh. So stubborn, his little human.

  “Tell me what they said to you. When they found you, and later after they completed their investigation.”

  She stiffened and shrugged awkwardly. “It was a long time ago. I don’t remember everything.”

  “You remember some things. I know, because I saw you reliving them. You remember the accident, little Ella. You told me you were in the backseat, trapped, it sounded like, while you parents had died in the front of the car.”

  She shuddered. “Yes.”

  “Then how did you get out? Who came to rescue you?”

  He watched her pretty mouth turn down in a frown. Her brow furrowed in concentration.

  “The police, I guess,” she said after a minute. “No, wait. I guess it must have been firemen. I remember those suits they wear, with the fire retardant material. And the suspenders. I’d never seen a man wear suspenders before that.”

  Kees nodded encouragingly. “They must have had some trouble getting you out, if the car was so severely damaged.”

  “They did. They had to cut through the metal with some big machine.” Her eyes went unfocused as she looked backwards into her memories. “I guess when I think about it now, it was probably the Jaws of Life, or whatever they call it. I remember the noise it made cutting through the metal. At first I thought it was a monster or a devil coming to eat me and take me down to hell.”

  Kees wanted nothing more than to tell her he’d seen hell, and that it was no place she would ever have to fear, because nothing went there but the foulest of demons. Not even a vengeful god would be cruel enough to send a human there. And certainly not this sweet, sad woman.

  Instead, he just nodded and gently prompted her. She was bringing back the memories now, and as painful as he knew they must be for her, he needed her to see them through the eyes of a logical adult, not a frightened, injured, grieving child.

  “Do you remember them talking?”

  “I remember the sounds of their voices, but not a lot of what they said. I didn’t understand a lot of the technical and medical things they were talking about.”

  “Didn’t they talk to you? Let you know that they worked to save you?”

  “They told me they were coming for me. They said I was being brave, and that everything would be okay, but I knew they were lying.”

  Even then, she had stubbornly held on to her own beliefs, no matter how foolish. Why was he not surprised?

  He changed strategies a little. His human required a slightly less gentle nudge, it seemed. “Were the firefighters the ones who told you the others were dead?”

  “I knew my parents were dead. No one had to tell me.”

  “But you couldn’t have known about the others. You couldn’t see everyone, could you?”

  “I could see Mom and Dad. They were covered in blood and so pale and … crushed looking. And the driver of the other car. He’d … he’d come through his windshield and partway through ours. He wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. He didn’t die right away, though. I remember his face. It didn’t even look human. It was all bloody and half-caved in.” She shuddered and closed her eyes. “God, the smell of blood still makes me sick. Blood and cheap beer.”

  Kees went still.

  “Cheap beer,” he repeated, careful to keep his voice low and even despite the desire to shout at her to open her eyes and remember the accident instead of reliving it. If she could just give herself a little distance, maybe she would finally start to see the picture she’d just painted for him.

  “Oh, but it stank. Almost worse than the blood. Just yeasty and sour and horrible. Like the floor around the cheap seats at a baseball stadium.”

  She still didn’t seem to understand, but Kees had heard enough. He’d also had enough of her torturing herself. It had been fifteen years of guilt and self-disgust. Even if she hadn’t just proved herself innocent, he thought she’d paid a sufficient penance. S
he just needed to let go of the past and realize it.

  Easier said than done.

  Kees sighed. He’d tried leading her to see the truth on her own, but that clearly wasn’t going to work. Perhaps this called for more drastic measures.

  “You are a fool, little human, but worse than that, you’ve made yourself into a martyr.”

  His harsh words and unforgiving tone seemed to snap Ella out of the prison of her memories. Her gaze flew to his face, at first confused, then hurt.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. You just told me that your parents were killed by a drunk who lost control of the vehicle he operated. Even if you haven’t yet allowed me to drive a car, I have the intelligence to understand that for a human to dull his senses, slow his reflexes, and depress his awareness with alcohol before driving would be a suicidal, or in this case homicidal, decision. Yet you try to take responsibility for what happened. I am disappointed by such selfishness. Why do you believe the world is centered on your actions and yours alone?”

  Her mouth gaped open and the confusion faded from her eyes to be replaced by anger. The hurt remained. “Did you just call me selfish? Did you tell me I was stuck on myself? I just told you about the worst thing that ever happened to me, the worst thing that can happen to any child, and you have the nerve to blame me for it? You fucking arrogant prick!”

  “No.” Kees remained firm. “I don’t blame you for anything that occurred that night. Why should I bother? You’ve been blaming yourself for fifteen years. Actually, you’ve been blaming the child, your twelve-year-old self, for what reason I cannot fathom. The only explanation I can find is that your arrogance deludes you into thinking your actions have infinitely more power than any human in history could possibly claim.”

  “I can’t frickin’ believe you. How dare you tell me I’m arrogant for taking responsibility for my own actions! I’m the one who’s had to live with them for all these years. Do you have any idea what it’s been like? Could you even begin to understand? Losing my parents was the worst thing that has ever happened to me, and I had to go to sleep every night knowing it was my fault. Knowing that if I hadn’t lost my temper, if I hadn’t gotten angry at my parents for trying to take care of me, my father wouldn’t have lost control, and—”