I flick to the table of contents – where the title hasn’t been rubbed off. Proper Maintenance of your Mortal. Eydis did, however, put a line through it, followed by the word ‘poppycock.’
Eydis has books upstairs on every aspect of mortals, but this one she’s kept hidden. Either because the information in here is precious, or because it was less reliable and so didn’t require being within arm’s reach. Or both. The contents are a quick list of useful subjects – hair, rest, food – making the whole thing a conundrum.
“What’s taking so long?” Killian grumbles.
I slip the book closed and shimmy backwards until I’m under the open hole, collecting just one vial of Eydis’ stash of potions as I go. I don’t bother climbing out yet, just pass the vial up to Killian, who passes it to Pax, and nearby, Seth cranes his neck to get a good look. Kitten’s up off the ground and leaning in beside Seth. I hold the vial of Soul Elixir up for them to see.
“It destroys souls?” Pax hedges. Not quite guessing the label right, but close enough that everyone makes the connection – well, everyone but Kitten.
“So can it?” Pax asks.
I nod. “I think so.”
“Can it what?” both Kitten and Seth ask in unison.
Pax ignores them. “How many?”
“Three thousand.”
“Three thousand what?” Seth and Kitten ask.
They look at each other and laugh.
Killian glares at them, and Kitten clears her throat loudly. “Sorry.”
“What’s gotten into you two?”
I’m pretty sure we’re all thinking the same thing. She’s in wet pants and wearing two shirts. Seth’s pants are also wet, and sections of his shirt have been splashed. Evidently, they had a water fight, but it hasn’t gotten the Chaos out of their systems.
“It was his fault,” Kitten says, pointing at Seth and taking a big step backwards.
Seth shrugs. “Any time, Vexy.”
“What?” Pax demands, stepping up to Seth.
Seth’s smile could catch flies as his muscles coil, ready to run, and his mouth opens. “She used my Chaos.”
He’s ready to duck and dash, but the rest of us are caught in a moment of stupor. I’m waist deep in a hole underneath the cobweb-covered floor of a deceased Master’s cottage with both the best discovery of the decade – boxes and boxes of potions with huge potential – and a brand new puzzle – this book on mortals. I break free of my shock, launch myself out of the hole, and snap time to be in front of her instantly. My hands cup her face, looking in each of her eyes, even pulling at the lids with my thumbs.
“Did it hurt?” I ask.
She wraps her hands around my wrists, one gripping firmer than the other, before answering, “A little.”
“Are you hurting now?”
“Don’t listen to her, she can’t count,” Seth says, still keeping a safe distance.
“What’s counting got to do with it?” Pax demands.
“On a scale of one to ten her pain never goes above eight.”
Measuring her pain, why didn’t I think of that? Measuring her pain, her bubble, tracking her sleep. I need to read Eydis’ manual as soon as I can; I’m failing her. Images of the places still left blank in Eydis’ attic where I can chart and table this information and try to find the correlations, come to mind.
I let go of her face, but she doesn’t let go of my wrists, her soft fingers keeping contact as I ask, “Explain the Chaos?”
At exactly the same time as Pax asks, “Why?” and Killian asks, “When?”
“I set his pants on fire,” she says, a little too proud of herself.
I burst out laughing. I can’t help it. I’ve just been informed that the most beautiful creature I know set the most annoying brother in history’s pants on fire.
“I wish I’d been there,” I manage to choke out.
“Why?” Pax repeats.
“He stuffed me in the vat,” Kitten says, removing the tension from Pax’s shoulders and drawing just one corner of his mouth up into a smile.
I’ll admit, she’s all kinds of bad for all of us, but simultaneously all kinds of good – especially for Pax.
Killian offers a grunt that sounds a lot like praise.
“Wine,” both Kitten and Seth call out, which starts more laughter.
I return to the cellar and slide the hatch closed.
“Later,” Pax says. “Seth, we need to search further east.”
“No, Eydis’ notes say the Spring is close. We need to start looking for enchantments, seals, potions, wards, that sort of thing.”
“Then do it,” Pax orders.
“Yeah,” I say, rubbing a hand down my face in frustration. A good shower, clean clothes, big meal, few wines, and a solution – I need the lot.
And more.
Kitten leans into Seth.
“What’s in the potions?” she whispers, which is useless even in this breeze since I can hear every syllable of her gentle voice.
“One vial – one soul,” Seth whispers back.
“Oh, like the ones Lithael has trapped…” she trails off and just waves a hand towards her neck.
We’re all just watching the two of them.
“Why are you guys so mean to Seth?” she suddenly demands.
“Because he asks stupid questions,” I answer since it’s clear the other two aren’t going to bother.
“It’s only a stupid question if you’re not open to the possibilities,” she says with such a sure tone that no argument springs to mind at all.
Seth chuckles and kisses her temple. “Thank you, Vexy.”
“Seth, take your open mind and start crafting Sigil Seek Potions,” Pax says. “You technically should have topped the class.”
“After Roarke,” Seth counters.
“Roarke doesn’t count,” Pax says.
“Why doesn’t Roarke count?” Kitten interrupts.
“They stopped bothering to score him two hundred years ago,” Seth explains. “Automatic first place.”
I clear my throat and look around like I’m not even listening to them – the last thing I want to do is discuss any of the ease with which knowledge fills my world. I don’t really work harder; I just understand more. Like my power pulls and draws in at the tiny pieces of the world that weave together to form everything we know – or think we know. I walk into a room, and my power draws me toward an important book or drags my attention into an unlikely corner. Not every minute of every day, but often enough to make me seem smarter than those around me. Clearly not to hidden cellars under houses, or maybe my power’s attention is so thoroughly tuned into Kitten that it couldn’t care less about a book or a potion right now. But add that quirk to my ability to Allure time, and the homework that would take another Saber three hours I could turn out in minutes.
Plus, I like knowing things. I like books, the smell of a library, the feel of paper, the slide of ink on parchment. Killian has his weapons and I have knowledge.
Doesn’t mean I want to be the center of their conversation, though.
“Not important,” Killian mutters before I’m forced to come up with a distraction.
Seth bounces on the balls of his feet, a little too excited for a guy about to mix a few dozen potions.
He scruffs Kitten’s hair on the way past, and she just barely manages to swat him away.
Seven Paces
Killian points at the book in Roarke’s hand as I step in closer to the remaining three of my guys. Roarke holds it up, showing them the cover, then discards it with the one he carried outside earlier.
“What’s the book?” I ask.
“Another of Eydis’,” Roarke says. “Describe your pain?”
“Asking questions about a book isn’t usually a painful activity,” I tell him, a little offended that he actually thinks I could hurt myself just by talking. I’m pretty talented as far as exploiting mortal weaknesses goes, but not quite that good.
“No,” he groan
s. “Using Chaos. What did it feel like?”
Killian chuckles, turning to kick a nearby stone under the house as if the distraction might stop him from saying something. Which only makes me curious what exactly he was about to say.
“No, actually. No pain for the Chaos when it worked, but a kind of sharp, stabbing pain from when it didn’t work,” I say, running my fingers down over my braid and inspecting the loose strands and occasional hard-from-mud patch.
I desperately need a shower.
“I’d rather she learn your power than Seth’s,” Pax says, pointing at Roarke. “If she’s reaching for yours instinctively, then she needs to be able to do it without harm – and time would be her best advantage.”
“What do you mean, time?” I ask.
Roarke’s slow smile always draws me in, and for half a beat I just smile back at him.
“Darkness, stay with them,” Pax says, then he turns and walks off.
“What? Wait,” I call, running after him, but he’s way ahead of me.
“Easy,” Killian rumbles, grabbing the back of my shirt.
Probably a good thing that he holds me back; there’s a chance my bubble has already separated Pax and me, but at the same time, a hot fist of anger jabs into my chest at being hauled back from getting to my… Pax. My Pax.
Killian chuckles, yanking me back harder so I almost bounce off his chest.
“You want to fight me?” he asks, his tone low and dark and dripping with intention.
I purse my lips, throw my hand back, and just barely miss getting a good grip on his balls before he lets go of my shirt and gets out of the way. Everything about me is amusing him today.
“Well, if you two are done, Kitten, come over here and take a seat. Killian will watch our… connection –”
“I should get Pax back,” Killian says, as if something just occurred to him. If I didn’t know the guy better, I’d say there’s just a tiny tinge of fear laced through the word ‘should.’
“Clearly, Pax thinks this is a good idea,” Roarke says.
“Clearly – dumbass.”
“Just, if something goes wrong, come in swinging,” Roarke says, taking me by the shoulders and directing me downhill from the washing vat and the pen now decorated in dripping clothes.
“Wrong?” I ask.
Wrong is not what a girl wants to hear before using someone else’s magic.
“Magic can always go wrong, especially mine,” Roarke says.
He doesn’t stop as he explains, steering me all the way to the edge of the stream, then manhandling me down to sit on a rock.
“I’m not touching either of you,” Killian grunts, like maybe the contact would make things go more wrong.
“That’s why I said come in swinging.”
“All right, you two old-married-serving-ladies ready to include me in this conversation?” I ask.
“No.” But he doesn’t come any closer.
“All right,” Roarke says, sitting on the rock opposite me.
The narrow stream cuts through the rocks on my right, full of clear, almost sparkling water with little fish darting in and out of sight. On my left is the path; the cottage is a little behind me, and the boulder’s a little in front, with Killian poised and ready to attack in between.
“He’s not waiting to attack me, is he?” I ask.
Roarke shakes his head. “Here, give me your arm.”
I obey, holding out my double-layered arm. One black shirt, one wet white shirt, then one arm inside.
He doesn’t ask, just takes my arm and says, “Close your eyes.”
I obey, feeling him carefully roll the sleeves back.
“Allure needs to feel like this,” he says, holding my palm up and exposing the delicate inside of my wrist.
“We’ve had this conversation,” I say, expecting the familiar warmth of his fingers laced with magic – but instead getting a single droplet of water.
It lands near the crook of my elbow and starts a slow trail towards my hand. Roarke angles and twists my arm, guiding the droplet into my palm.
“You can’t do this,” he says, pulling my arm and plunging the whole thing into the freezing stream.
I squeal, eyes popping open as I struggle to yank my arm back. His grip on my wrist relaxes.
“What was that for?” I demand, trying to dry my hand on the stomach of my shirt.
“It seems to work for Killian,” he says.
I glare up the hill at the big guy.
“It works,” he says, a little smile on his lips that makes me wish I could pick him up and dump him in the water.
“Okay. Do you remember any of the instructions I gave you before we healed your arm?”
“Why didn’t you just ask me instead of sticking my hand in the water?”
“I’m asking now. What do you remember?”
I shrug. “I remember concentrating. Not much else.”
“Do you remember harmony?” he asks, so softly that I’m pretty convinced he doesn’t want to ask me at all.
“No,” I whisper back.
“To let yourself be the thing you are doing is to find harmony. That complete balance. Allure isn’t an order or a contrast or even an effort. The Allure needs to come naturally.”
Harmony. I roll the word around in my mind as I say, “That’s not going to work for me. I am mortal. Using Allure is being something that I am not.”
“But you have to use it as if it is yours. Pax wants you to Allure time.”
“Why?”
“Because that is possibly the most useful skill among us for self-defense. Slowing time is what allows us to move so fast. We don’t actually move any quicker, but the rest of the world does move slower.”
“Then why do you call it speed? Why not slow?”
He chuckles at me. “You call it speed, or Saber-super-speed, I think. I just call it Allure.”
I groan, feeling my stomach rumble at the same time.
“Here,” he says, stretching his fingers into the crystalline water and drawing out a handful of pebbles. “The aim of the task is to stop the stone before it splashes.” He opens his palm and counts the stones. “We’ll give it eleven goes. Ready?”
I nod.
He flicks a stone, and it falls almost faster than I can track into the stream. Splash. Gone.
“Well, this is hopeless,” I mutter.
Behind me Killian chuckles, then orders, “Try harder.”
“Throw the thing slower then,” I tell Roarke.
He flicks another, and a little red fish zips from behind a rock, completely distracting me.
Five stones later, and I hold my hand out, demanding he hand the stones over.
I roll them between my fingers, all slightly different sizes or shapes but all smooth and warm. Allure-magic-warmed. I actually don’t want to throw any of them away, but I do. One at a time. Each one splashing down before I can even think any kind of Allure command.
“All right, take a break,” Roarke says, diving his hand into the water and making a small pile of pebbles on the ground in front of him.
I turn away from the stream. Killian hasn’t really moved, still watching.
“You realize the point of this is so you don’t kill yourself,” Roarke says.
“Fight first, recover later,” Killian corrects.
“Fight well enough not to require recovery,” Roarke says, and Killian nods his agreement – clearly updating his opinion.
I ignore them. Talking about me seems to be a trend among my Elorsins, so I let them go for it.
I’m drawn instead to the blood stain on the boulder. The rock itself has a sparkle to it in the daylight, like little flecks of something shiny are speckled through its solid black makeup. But despite the deep color of the stone, my gaze is still drawn to Eydis’ blood.
“Why do you think her blood did that?” I ask, pointing. “I mean, it practically had to flow up the rock to make that pattern.”
“What pattern?” Roarke asks
.
“They’re symmetrical wings.”
He looks at it for a long moment. The breeze pulls at the loose strands around his face, and he tugs the tie free. His hair slips over his shoulder to reveal the smooth skin of his neck and chest – because his shirt is always far too open and often slips low.
Why am I biting my lip right now – biting my lip to distract my teeth from wanting to bite his neck?
Why the chuck do I want him to let me bite his neck?
He turns slowly, his dark eyes settling on mine with an intensity in their depths – a hunger.
“Your mind can’t go there when you’re with me,” he says, each deep tone stirring my insides to life.
“Sorry,” I admit. “Wasn’t intentional.”
“We’re trying to get a grip on your magical anomaly. Not get our clothes off.”
“Again,” I correct. “Get our clothes off again. You know, I think you guys just secretly like getting me naked. All these times I’m getting hurt are just an excuse.”
He struggles to keep the seductive smile from his lips – and fails.
“I’d rather you not be hurt – but I’m all for you being naked.”
His hand closes into a fist, pressing hard against his leg. He’s really struggling, and cruelly, I’m enjoying it.
“But maybe that’s a bad idea, being naked and all, because that leads to other stuff – or so I’ve been told.” You want my body. You want me naked, I chime in silently. “Cook gave Jake and me the lecture in such detail that neither of us could look at each other for a week.”
He groans. “That’s right, you’re a virgin.”
And that seems to have him shifting, adjusting his weight, adjusting himself.
I scratch my chin, looking up towards the clouds as if thinking hard.
“I mean, rolling around in the hay doesn’t really count, does it?” You think I’m sexy. You want to kiss me. “Not that I’d recommend the hay – kind of stabs you in places, that does. The kitchen bench is a good height, though.” You can’t resist me.
That does it. He practically pounces on me, knocking me backwards to the ground. One hand is under my back and gripping my hair, the other pressed into the earth beside my shoulder – only half holding his weight up.
His chest heaves in desperate breaths. His tongue traces along his lips as if he’s trying to fight the urge, or savor it, I’m not sure.
Shadows and Shade Box Set Page 88
