Simon’s aura was a dizzying riot of emotion. She’d never seen anything like it. He was angry, furious — barely holding onto his temper. All his usual kindness had fled, replaced with a terrible mixture of black sorrow and shivering fear.
Something had torn open all his misery again. Zoe flinched. It was her fault, whatever it was.
She focused blearily on the conversation next to her. The two men were speaking in hushed tones, trying not to disturb her. Both francophone, they’d defaulted to French in private. Her mind was still swimming. It was a struggle to keep up as they continued talking, but she managed to pluck out a few concepts.
There was something about the seigneur. He was… apologetic? Vivienne was in trouble. That meant the vampiress was still alive.
“Zoe vient avec moi.” That was Simon. Zoe’s brow knitted. I’m… going with him? What?
“I can handle this, thank you.” Dorian had switched into English. He sometimes did that when he became worried that a French conversation was going too fast. It forced everyone to slow down, thinking about their words.
“No,” Simon said. “No more handling. You have business, monsieur, and do not try to tell me that it might not take you away from her. I have wards, and I have time. Until she is better, and Vivienne is found, I will watch her.”
“Business will take me away?” There was a slight edge to Dorian’s voice for the first time. “And what will you do if your lady calls, warlock?”
“I will decline,” Simon said coldly. “I am capable of that, if you will recall.”
A long pause followed. There was no hint of emotion in Dorian’s blank aura, but she knew somehow that he was struggling. The idea that his bonds might keep him from helping her himself had to be painful.
Finally, Dorian spoke again.
“Elle n’est pas Rose, Simon.”
Another silence.
“I know,” Simon said quietly. “I know that. But when… when I saw…” His voice broke. Zoe imagined him raising his hand to his chest, to the end of that silver chain. “It was as though she died all over again. I was too late again.”
The black misery in his aura lengthened like a shadow. Zoe felt her heart plummet into her stomach again. With a supreme effort of will, she forced her eyes open, letting out a soft groan.
Zoe was in a hospital bed, tethered to an IV. She had the distinct feeling that time had passed while she was unconscious, but she didn’t know how much. A short distance away, Simon and Dorian stood talking. Both of them were straight-backed, tense, exhausted. Zoe felt a pang of guilt. They’d been waiting with her in the hospital.
Two pairs of eyes flickered toward her. Simon forced the tension from his shoulders, and headed over toward her. He took her good hand in his, careful of the IV. “Hey,” he said. “You’re awake.”
Zoe glanced past him, at Dorian. The darker man stood apart, his manner cool and collected. She was certain she wasn’t imagining it — there was a look of guilt behind his eyes. Great, she thought. That bitch might not have gotten what she wanted, but she still did a number on Dorian. He’s never going to forget this.
“I’m awake,” she said hoarsely. “How long’s it been?”
“A few hours,” Simon said. “You went into shock. It was difficult for a time. You’ve had a transfusion, though. You should recover.” He sounded as though he was going down a list of bullet points he’d been given. “One of the tendons in your wrist is damaged. It may need therapy. She was not gentle.”
Zoe cringed. “I mean… that’s still better than it could be,” she observed, forcing some tired cheer into her voice. “Out of… out of curiosity. What did you tell them happened?”
Simon smiled ruefully. “You were attacked by a vicious animal,” he said. “I fear they are out searching for it now.” His green eyes focused on her intently. “It’s lucky you were so close.”
There was a subtle question in his voice as he said it. Right, Zoe remembered belatedly. I sent that spell back to him. He’s got to be wondering how that happened.
“Not luck,” Zoe mumbled. She sighed. If anyone had earned the truth at this point, it was Simon. She glanced toward Dorian, then back to Simon. “Can we… talk about it later?”
Dorian looked away. Intellectually, he knew that Zoe couldn’t spill her secrets in front of him. But her implicit promise to tell Simon what she wouldn’t tell him had to hurt.
“Later,” Simon agreed softly. The black agony in his aura subsided just a bit. Now that Zoe was awake, she probably reminded him less of whatever painful memory had come back to his mind.
“What happened to Vivienne?” Zoe reached up to press her hand to her pounding forehead, but found it still tangled with Simon’s. He blinked, and released her quickly.
“Vivienne is gone,” Dorian said coolly. “Comment dit-on… she is in the wind. Monseigneur has put a price on her head, however. It it only a matter of time.”
Simon frowned. “I wanted to go after her,” he said apologetically. “But you were… it seemed more urgent to see to you first.”
Zoe shook her head at him. “Like I’m going to blame you. You shouldn’t have been saving my bacon anyway. I’m not your responsibility.” Was it her imagination, or did Dorian flinch very slightly at that? Shit. Bad phrasing.
A thought occurred to Zoe. “She had… didn’t she have someone else with her?”
Simon’s face darkened. “He won’t be a problem,” he said.
Zoe slowly raised her eyebrows at him.
“I opened up the Hidden Path,” Simon said. “The Briars took him. If he is lucky, he is dead already.” Zoe looked for any hint of regret in his aura, but she found none. The realization chilled her.
“I thought you could only open a path to Arcadia in certain places,” she said. “Were we right near an entrance?”
“No,” Simon admitted. “We were not.” He pulled the golden compass from his pocket. “The Lady of Briars loaned me the power to journey directly to her realm, as the faeries do. I use it only for emergencies — the magic is not gentle on a mortal body. But this seemed to be an appropriate moment.”
Zoe stared at the compass. He handed that to me, she thought dimly. I was carrying that kind of power around.
“Vivienne spoke with you?” Dorian interrupted her train of thought, and she started. The question instilled an instant sense of unease in her.
“Ye-es,” Zoe said, very slowly. “Yeah, she did.” The very last thing she wanted to do was tell Dorian what Vivienne was after… but not telling him wasn’t an option. She winced. “Monseigneur is blackmailing her. She was going to try and trade me to you for dirt on him in return. I was trying to stall for time, but I might have… back-talked her a bit much.”
Dorian closed his eyes. Zoe had confirmed his worst fears. This was his fault.
When he opened his eyes again, there was a flat chill in them. “You’re off work for the foreseeable future,” he said. “Obviously.”
Zoe hesitated. “…this isn’t your fault,” she said. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said it in front of Simon, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t let Dorian leave without saying it.
“Monsieur Leclair has offered to keep an eye on you until Vivienne is found,” Dorian continued, as though he hadn’t heard her. “You will be going with him. You are not to leave his wards until he informs you that it is safe.”
Zoe’s temper flared. “Hey,” she said. “I’m talking to you. This isn’t your fault. I’m a goddamn adult, and I work for you. I get paid well for it. You think I don’t know the risks?” The anger sent a rush of blood to her face, and she wavered. Simon caught her quickly, leaning her back against the cheap hospital pillow.
“I’ll be in touch,” Dorian said to Simon. He turned, and headed for the door.
Tears pricked at Zoe’s eyes. Damn it. Dorian had done everything for her. He’d taken her in — he’d given her a home, and a name, and some measure of safety. She was allowed to risk something for him in return.
>
Simon’s thumb brushed at the edge of her eye, wiping at her tears. She glanced at him as the door closed behind Dorian. That dark cloud of his was back, but he was still looking at her as though she was all that mattered. Frustration built inside her. She wanted to wipe it away. She wanted to reach out and wipe it all away.
“Simon—”
He shook his head. “Later,” he told her tiredly. “Let’s get you out of here.”
“I didn’t mean to drag you into this.”
Simon kept his eyes very carefully fixed to the wall across from him as Zoe spoke. He’d settled himself into a chair in the bathroom of his loft while she washed the hospital smell off of herself. It was a bit embarrassing having him nearby, but it was probably better than Zoe hitting her head on something because she’d had a fainting spell.
“I suspect that you meant to drag me into it in at least some respects,” he corrected her gently, though he didn’t sound angry. “I didn’t find you by accident.”
Zoe winced. She risked a glance at him from behind the shower curtain. He was a physical mess now, in addition to a spiritual mess. Everything about him was tired and out of sorts. “Yeah, I… I guess that’s fair. I just wanted to return your compass. I was getting really nervous holding onto it. Then… stuff happened, and I knew you were nearby, so…”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Simon told her. “I could have chosen not to get involved. That wasn’t the choice that I made.” He brooded on that. Then, he added: “If it makes you feel any better, I would have done the same if Vivienne had simply stolen my compass. You were also attached to it, of course. I am more upset about the latter part.”
Something inside of Zoe snapped. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe the stress of the situation had finally gotten to her. Maybe it was the way that Dorian had handed her off like a potato sack to the first person that offered. Maybe it was her utter helplessness to do anything to make the situation better.
“You are unbelievable!” she hissed at Simon.
He blinked, and nearly glanced back toward her in sheer surprise — but she saw him remember their situation at the last moment, and he quickly turned back toward the wall. “Er. Sorry?” he said. “What did I do?”
“You—” Zoe breathed in sharply. She wobbled a bit, but caught her balance. “I don’t deserve that! I don’t deserve you being nice to me! I put you in the middle of my problems, when I know damned well that you’ve got all kinds of problems of your own, and you just… you keep helping, and acting like it’s no big deal!” She wiped a bit of soap from her face. “You could have gotten hurt! Why aren’t you at least a little angry at me?”
A visible ripple of confusion went through him. “I… you want me to be angry with you?” Simon asked, as though he wasn’t sure he’d translated her English correctly.
“What?” Zoe knitted her brow. “Ugh. It sounds stupid when you put it that way.” She wobbled again — this time, her foot slipped, and she had to catch herself on the wall of the shower. A flash of white-hot pain shot through her wrist. Worse — the slippery surface offered no friction, and she squeaked in panic as she started sliding downward.
Simon shot to his feet. He got his arms around her just in time. He let her down carefully, settling her into a seated position.
Zoe trembled, catching her breath. Simon held onto her for an extra moment — he checked her wrist, where a bit of blood had started to seep through. His green eyes flashed. “Now I’m angry,” he told her. “I told you not to stand, but you insisted. You are going to hurt yourself for no good reason.”
As the situation sank in, Zoe noticed a thread of awkwardness cut through Simon’s aura. It was the first time she’d seen real embarrassment on him; most situations that would embarrass others merely inspired him to ponder on the best way to diffuse the tension.
Granted, she was currently sitting naked in his shower, with his arm still wrapped around her bare torso. The greater part of Simon’s attention still seemed to be on her health, but it was interesting to see the man finally thrown off-balance, flustered and searching for his footing like a normal human being. Some tiny, devilish part of Zoe wanted to press the rare advantage, to knock him entirely off-balance for the first time since she’d met him — but the greater part of her recoiled at the impulse. Simon was also angry, and frustrated, and covered in doubts — but it wasn’t directed at her, whatever he’d said.
God, I’m an awful person, Zoe thought. She curled her knees up to her chest, and pressed her forehead to them. Simon released her, and turned to grab a towel. “Bed,” he told her. “You can be angry at me there just as easily.”
What the hell is wrong with me? Zoe wondered, as he helped her gently to her feet. Simon didn’t deserve her venting at him. If anyone deserved better from her, it was him.
I’ve been feeling crazy ever since I dragged him to chocolate, she realized.
For years, Zoe had been careful not to let herself get too close to anyone other than Dorian. At the back of her mind, she’d always known that there was too much on the line — that too much could go wrong. And now, in the space of only a few days, everything had gone wrong. She’d let herself be drawn to Simon, and now he was stuck in the middle of Dorian’s troubles too. He’d trusted her with something valuable, and she’d nearly gotten it stolen. He’d stepped in to save her skin, and probably made new enemies in the process. Now he was watching over her, sacrificing his time and energy to keep her safe… and some part of her wanted nothing better than to push him far, far away. She wanted him to be angry with her. If he was angry, then maybe he’d step away from her, drag himself back out of this craziness before it got him hurt.
I’m not good for him, she realized. And I’m sure as hell not good enough for him.
At least with Dorian, she felt she’d earned her keep somewhat. But what had she ever given Simon? A bit of chocolate and some conversation? She hadn’t even been courageous enough to try and heal him when he most needed it. She’d been too worried about her stupid secrets.
Simon helped her into bed, and went to rummage for some clothing. Zoe curled up under the covers, closing her eyes. Everything smelled of lavender… and Simon. The bed was large and comfortable, buried under a heavy feather comforter. Naturally, she thought. He’s got to be miserably cold in the winter, carrying around the power of the Briars.
Eventually, Simon returned with a long-sleeved shirt, just a bit too big for her. “I’ll ask Monsieur Moreau to bring by some of your things,” he said. “He knows how to find your address?”
God, I’d hope so. He lives right above me. “Yeah,” Zoe mumbled, reaching out to snatch the shirt from him and dragging it under the covers with her. “Thanks.” She ducked beneath the blanket to pull the shirt over her head. There wasn’t much of a point — Simon had just seen far more than was proper — but for some reason she still felt embarrassed.
As Zoe poked her head above the blankets again, she saw him looking at her with puzzlement. She sighed. “You make me hate myself,” she said.
Simon blinked behind his glasses. “What?” he said.
“I’ve figured it out. I’m pissed at you because you’re a better person than I am. So… so I like being around you. But I don’t like having to measure myself next to you.” She reached up to run her fingers through her tangled, dripping hair. “It’s not your fault. And I’m sorry.”
Simon considered this for a long moment. He looked as though he’d bitten into a strange-tasting food. “I’m, ah… not quite sure what to do with that,” he admitted with a laugh.
“You don’t have to do anything with it,” Zoe told him. “I have to do something about it. I have to stop being a chicken-shit and just… be better.” She met his eyes, forcing a bit of iron into her spine. “I’m a Scorpio,” she said. “I was the one that sent your spell back to you. I convinced Vivienne to drink from me so I could hurt her, but I miscalculated and it nearly got me killed.”
I can’t avoid it anyway. Zoe thought
. I’ll just have to be doubly careful about the rest.
Simon didn’t look nearly as surprised as she’d expected. He nodded slowly. “I wouldn’t have guessed before today,” he said. “You’ve been very careful.” He paused. “You are one of Monsieur Moreau’s hidden protections.”
Zoe shrugged. “That’s part of it,” she said. “He certainly doesn’t pay me that much money just to file stuff and make copies. But we don’t talk about it out loud. If I tell him I’m a witch, that’s a secret that he owns. He’d have to offer it to anyone who paid him enough.”
“That sounds like a very complicated relationship,” Simon observed. He sighed. “I was perhaps too harsh on him. I haven’t been the good person that you think I am today. I’ve said and done and… felt some things of which I’m not proud.”
Zoe grimaced. “You’ve been screwed up ever since you came back from Arcadia last time,” she told him. “I should have just helped you then. But I can help you now, if you let me.”
Simon smiled wanly. “You’re in no condition to help anyone right now,” he said. “But I will keep the offer in mind, I promise.” He reached out to tuck the blankets around her.
His warmth was so close again. Zoe felt the urge again to bury herself in his arms — to take all those things from him that he always seemed to generously offer. But there was a question hovering on her tongue that she knew she needed to ask.
“Who is Rose, Simon?”
The warlock froze.
“She’s not Rose. That’s what Dorian said. What does that mean?” Zoe searched his eyes. “Do I remind you of someone? Is that… is that why you’re…”
“No.” Simon paused, and closed his eyes. He sucked in a breath, and shook his head. “I — yes. And no. You’re really… very different. The situation reminded me.” A shiver of darkness went through his aura. “Rose was my wife. She… passed away.” He opened his eyes again. “No. She was killed. I'm fairly sure of that.”
Zoe pressed her lips together. A number of strangenesses clicked into place. A faint jealousy tapped at her heart, but she quashed it ruthlessly. Be better, she reminded herself. “You’re fairly sure?” she repeated. “Why are you not sure?”
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