My heart races as I reach out tentatively to touch Theron’s face, needing to assure myself that Theron and Kye are one and the same. But the image is gone. Now it’s just Kye and me again. Kye drops his head in his hands, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “I dreamed about you last night—only not you, Raina.”
“Kye.” My voice is soft. “Just because Raina died doesn’t mean I will.”
“History repeats itself, Abby, and we’ve never beat this before. It’s like a fast-spreading cancer.”
“But I’m fine right now—and I think you are, too.” I stroke his hair.
“We have weeks. Maybe a couple months.” He gulps. “When it’s over ...”
“Oh.”
The bike stops on the opposite side of the park from where we started. Street vendors have set up tables along the sidewalks, selling souvenirs and paintings, works of art a person can only find in New York City.
Our conversation swirls in my head until I’m dizzy, so I block it out, searching for a distraction. We both need it. I look at every charcoal sketch and every picture on display. We stop to watch an artist dip her brush in paint and create shadows and light on a canvas. It’s an amazing likeness of the city. I dig out my camera and snap pictures.
We’re walking in Central Park when a knot forms in the pit of my stomach and overpowers everything, all my conflicting emotions and thoughts. Something isn’t right. The energy surrounding us turns dull gray as Kye slaps a hand over my mouth—which is a good thing, given my startled cry—and drags me with him behind the cover of an eight-foot shrub.
Two businessmen pass by. One—wearing a charcoal suit and black tie—has immaculately styled, unnatural fire-red hair. The other man—much more casual in a pair of tan pants and a flowered tie—is also perfectly coifed, though his hair is boring brown.
As the men continue down the street without so much as looking in our direction, Kye breathes a sigh of relief and hails a cab, directing the driver to take us to Chinatown.
“What was that about?” I ask.
Kye keeps looking behind us, anxious. “Juri’s henchmen. Didn’t you recognize them? They were at the hotel in Vegas.”
My forehead scrunches as I try to remember. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
The cab lets us out at a market in a shabbier part of town. Little open-air shops, practically bursting at the seams, squeeze together like bodies on a packed subway train. I ogle the variety of goods with a sense of wonder. “What is this place?”
“Canal Street. Good shopping, easy to blend with the crowd.” Kye turns me toward the shops. “We need a break. There’s nothing more we can do to stop the Dark Elen from here, and it’s hours until our flight. Let’s have some fun.”
When I’m not looking, Kye buys me a pair of dirt-cheap emerald earrings that must be stolen. I try to argue, but he’s already forked over the cash, so it’s not like he can take them back. It occurs to me that I probably owe Kye money. A lot of money.
“This trip must be costing a small fortune.” I shake my head, clueless, wondering how much I owe him. I don’t even know where to start adding. “I’m going to pay you back for my half of all this. As soon as we get home, I’ll get a job. I’ll—”
Kye tips my chin up, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “Abby, stop.”
“But—”
“Stop,” he says, firmly. “If I was worried about money, we wouldn’t be here.”
“How can you not worry? You don’t even have a job.” Does he?
Kye shakes his head and steers me past a pushy vendor selling designer knock-offs. “Are you getting hungry?”
“Yes.” We decide on Chinese, because it’s like a law when you’re visiting a place called Chinatown. We choose an authentic restaurant where bright dragons painted rust red, shiny purple, and bright green float across tapestries on the walls, each decorated with a different symbol. The chipped tabletops are scrubbed clean, edged with aluminum, and topped with fake white lilies. A waitress brings us water and takes our order.
Finally, I ask, “Are you ever going to tell me?”
“What?”
“The money, remember? Our bill must be ginormous. I need to know how much we’ve spent so I can figure out how to pay you back.”
The waitress sets our drinks on the table, and I sip mine, waiting for her to leave so he can answer.
Kye takes my hand on the table, looking suddenly apprehensive. “Abby, you won’t be paying anything back. It isn’t my money we’re spending. It’s yours.”
TWENTY-NINE
Fractured
It’s my turn to laugh. “Oh, right. The two hundred dollars I brought got us plane tickets and a hotel room, ferry tickets, cab rides, food. And let’s not forget our recent shopping spree.” I jiggle the handbag I bought for my mother.
His head bobs, conceding. “All right, not exactly yours. It’s Raina’s.”
“I thought Raina didn’t have any money.”
“She didn’t have anything but the clothes on her back, but when they got engaged, Theron set her up to buy whatever she wanted. Like a dowry or bride-price. And because he wanted her to know it was really her money—regardless of her new title—Theron had it stored in a church outside of Dryden, where the priests could guard it, sort of like a bank.”
“Right.” I pinch the bridge of my nose to ward off a headache. “Next you’re going to tell me you’re carrying gold pieces in your pocket like Pippi Longstocking.”
“Does a platinum card count?”
“Oh, brother.”
“Val handles the money, investments and stuff.” He rests his hand on my arm. “Raina’s money has become a central source of funding for all research and projects aimed at restoring Dryden to the Gifted.”
I wonder if I can buy a remedy to break the curse. Do fairies take bribes? “Even if I was Raina once, I’m not her now. I wouldn’t feel right claiming her money.”
He stirs the ice in his glass, unsmiling. “Maybe you should. Consider it a consolation prize for the life you’ll never have.” He meets my eyes and I feel the familiar burning sensation of threatening tears.
Does he mean a life of normalcy or a life with him? “How did Val end up with Raina’s money?”
Kye taps his fingertips on the table. “After the demons were locked away, the goddess Macha made Valdemar—the last surviving priest—guardian of the money. He was the only person who knew where the treasure was hidden. In fact, he’s still the only one who can access it. All I know is that when stuff comes up, he makes sure money gets deposited in the right places. In cautious, non-concerning amounts, of course.”
“Well, that’s handy, isn’t it?” I stare, one eyebrow raised, not sure how to feel about this new revelation. “And strange, in a money-laundering-drug-dealer-ish way.”
“Hey, I’ll pay you back,” Kye says, only half joking.
“It’s not my money.” I lean closer, searching his face. “I’m not her, Kye. Not anymore.”
He wraps his hand around mine on the table. “I know.”
The waitress brings steaming plates of cashew pork, orange-pineapple chicken, brown rice, and egg rolls. I scoop a portion of each onto my plate and take a bite, licking the sauce that drips on my finger. It has just the right combination of crunch and tang, the sweet chicken so tender I barely have to chew it. Flavor explodes on my tongue and my eyes roll back in my head. It’s so, so good. I devour everything on my plate, barely pausing between bites.
“Wow, you were hungry,” Kye says through his own mouthful. “I’ve never seen you eat so much.”
I wave my fork and swallow. “I don’t always remember to eat, so when I do, I make sure to do it well.” Kye watches me scoop another portion, looking fascinated. He’s barely touched his own food. “Aren’t you hungry?”
He gazes at his plate as if belatedly realizing it’s there. “I’m just enjoying the show.”
I look up long enough to grab an egg roll and dip it in the sw
eet and sour sauce. “You mean the one called Abby the Pig?”
“You can call it whatever you want as long as I get to watch.”
I throw my napkin at him and pick up our conversation. “Tell me about the laws.”
Kye pauses, his loaded chopsticks poised in the air. “Laws? For what?”
“You know, for Gifted people.” I dip the last of my eggroll in sauce while Kye purses his lips. “Don’t you watch TV? Every society has rules. What happens if you break them? Are there Gifted police people who keep us in line?” These are things I need to know if I’m going to figure a way around the curse.
“We have Dragons—but not of the legendary variety. More like a council of really powerful Gifted. As for rules, no harming, stealing from or conning regular people, and if we want to keep our powers, they have to stay under wraps.
“If we screw up big enough, the Dragons will know and they’ll be by to visit. They’re good guys, but still scary. Also, we follow laws of the land—otherwise we’d never blend into society.”
“Not to mention going to jail.” I lean against the seat, rubbing my full stomach. “You know, if we like, robbed a bank or something.”
He grins. “There is that.”
“What happens if someone finds out?”
“Power can’t be hidden from another Gifted. That’s why so many Gifted end up in places like Jackson—near natural sources of Earth Power. All that volcanic activity is just bubbling with power-boosting energy. Plus, as more of us gather together, our Gifts feed each other and we get stronger, our abilities more pronounced. But if someone else discovers what we can do ... well, let’s just say steps would be taken to relieve that person of the knowledge.” He shudders. “Safety precautions. And the person who revealed the Gift would be punished.
“In the case of someone like your mom, who isn’t Gifted but has a blood tie to you, it’s a little different. There’s no way to keep it from her. Mothers know all, right? Only problem is now that the Elen know who you are, they’ll find her eventually. But Val thinks she’ll be protected as long as you’re in her care.”
He smiled at my look of surprise. “Didn’t know that, did you? Your Gifts protect your mother just because you live in her house. Like a magical shield. One of Raina’s spells that didn’t backfire. Anyway, I don’t know enough to tell you more than that. Val can fill you in on the rest.”
I swirl the ice around in my glass as I contemplate the new information. “Do you really believe he doesn’t know how to break this curse?”
Kye scoots closer. “If he did, it wouldn’t be an issue anymore. And yes, he would tell me. He has no reason to lie.” His arms slide around my waist. “If the Elen get their hands on all the Keys, none of it will matter anyway. We’ll all end up dead. Or wishing we could die.”
“The weight of the world is a heavy load.” I brush a lock of hair out of his eyes, swallowing a lump in my throat.
Pain flickers across his face. “Yes,” he says, squeezing my hand.
“Will my mother be in danger when I move out?”
Kye nods, slowly. “Probably. Unless she ... uh, moves in with another one of us. If she were to move in with Akers or Valdemar, even if the family bond wasn’t active, they’d at least be able to protect her. To sense danger before it got to her. Or she could get remarried.”
I try not to choke on that idea. “Okay. So, there are some options then.”
Kye picks up his chopsticks and stirs them around in the leftover sauce on his plate. “Look, I know what you’re planning. Or trying to plan. It’s written all over your face.”
I look away, guilty.
“We could try it. I don’t know if it would work, but we could try running. Don’t think I haven’t been searching for a way around this thing. You can’t make a decision like this without knowing all the facts.”
I smile, more confident. “Then tell me the facts. I already know what I want.”
He buries his face in his hands, blowing out a long breath. “Babe, I wish it was only about what you want. Or what I want. Because we both want the same thing, trust me.” He presses his palms against his forehead like he has a headache, so I rub my Alexandrite necklace, humming, and gently massage his forehead with my fingertips.
“If we ran away, we’d have to keep moving to stay out of Tynan’s reach. They’ll look for us forever. You couldn’t go home to visit your mom—not even for the holidays. No Rose or Jen or Erda. Ever. If we actually succeeded in getting away and staying alive and hidden—which would be a miracle, considering the strength of your energy field—we’d probably both lose our Gifts because we’d have to stay away from the power sources that feed them.”
I bite my lip and stop humming. “I can’t just never see my mom again.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” He pulls my hand away from his head and laces our fingers so we’re palm to palm, then leans his forehead against mine. “If we run away, the Elementals will see my departure as a betrayal and leave the other Gifted to fight the Dark Ones alone. The people we love will be even more handicapped in fighting against evil. And if the demons are set free, the entire planet could be in jeopardy.”
“Right.” How can I live with that? How can I ask him to? I feel selfish for wanting to run, but the idea of walking away from Kye gives me stomach cramps that threaten to tear up my insides.
“And the curse will make us terribly, horribly sick. We’d both be dead within a few months. Our life together would end in pure and utter misery.”
Now my head hurts. I push my plate aside and press my cheek to the tabletop. “How do you do it? How does a person live with all this responsibility? With the threats?”
He slides his hand under my cheek and lifts my face to look at him. “I take it one day at a time. Do you see why it’s so important to have all the facts? Because what you see as options really aren’t options at all.”
“I don’t know how to do this,” I choke. Tears well in my eyes, burn there, and I blink them away. “I can’t be responsible for so many people.”
He strokes my hair when I bury my face in his neck. “Shh. Don’t think about it now. You don’t have to decide right this minute.”
“Decide what? Either I embrace my Gifts and commit to using them to help save other people—maybe even the world—without you, or we run away together and probably die.”
Kye’s eyes glisten and he swallows. “We’re both going to die someday anyway. Maybe whatever time we can steal will be worth it. If that’s really what you want, I’m willing. I’d do anything for you.”
“Stop it!” A tear escapes and runs down my cheek. “Don’t talk like that. Do you really think I’m that selfish? That I’d knowingly sentence the people we love to death just so we can try to live a dream?”
“No, I don’t think that.” He wipes the tear away with his thumb, his hand shaking. “It’s what I want, too. I just don’t know how to make it work.” His next breath is uneven, and so is his voice. “It’s killing me to see you cry this way.”
“I can’t handle all this,” I whisper, wiping my eyes. “I’m just a kid.”
“Abby, you’re strong. You can handle anything.” The waitress approaches, and Kye pays our bill with the infamous credit card, then takes my hand and leads me outside.
Since we still have a few hours before our flight, we decide to get tickets to a play. I’ve always wanted to see one, and we need a distraction. We snag two prime seats to Phantom of the Opera, and Kye says, “We have a little over two hours, a platinum card, and about a million places to shop. How about we make tonight extra special? I think it’s the least Raina owes us, under the circumstances.” His lips curl into my favorite uneven smile and the light from the setting sun turns his eyes into sparkling blue sapphires. He is everything that matters in my world.
I choose a simple silver dress with a wide scoop neck and long, fitted sleeves. The silk hugs my curves past my waist and flares at the bottom, pooling around my new silver
spike-heeled sandals. As a concession to Kye’s insistence that I get a coat, I top off the outfit with a long, white velvet wrap. A coat would be more practical, but the wrap reminds me of a distant memory I’m determined to cling to. It’ll be warm enough.
Kye pays while I change in the fitting room, taking an extra minute to twist my hair into a knot at the crown of my head and secure it with bobby pins from my makeup bag. A few stray tendrils escape the knot, refusing to be tamed into the bun, so I let them be.
When I meet up with Kye again, he’s wearing a charcoal suit and tie. His hair is wet and combed, though the naughty waves fight away from his scalp where it’s dried. I can’t breathe for looking at him. Theron. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before today.
His wide-eyed appraisal makes me squirm. “You don’t like.”
He blinks. “I like. I like a lot.”
“But ...” I say, prodding.
“But something’s not quite right.”
I run my hands down the front of my dress. “What? Is it lumpy somewhere?”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the pendant.
It’s so pretty. It would look great with this dress, but too much could go wrong if I wear it in public. “I can’t wear that. It’s really valuable and it doesn’t belong to me.”
“It belongs to you right now.” He clasps the pendant around my throat, his fingers lingering on the bare skin behind my neck, sending goose bumps down my spine. “See? Perfect.”
I’ve never seen a more stunning stone in my life. Kye reminds me about the earrings he bought me, and I put them on. The pendant warms my skin and energy surges through me in a way I’ve never felt before. The lights flicker and the tips of my fingers tingle, then my toes, and then the rest of my body. My head spins. I sway.
The music swells and he takes my hand. Cheering and clapping erupts in the background. I don’t look away and neither does he. It’s as though the world melts around us as we dance our wedding dance. All is well, and we’re safe inside our little bubble. Theron and me.
Descendant Page 19
