by May Dawson
“Then you’ve got nothing to fear from asking Liam.” He shrugged, then turned to sweep out of the room. Over his shoulder, he said, “I’ll be in my study working when you’re ready to learn to raise monsters.”
When I looked from him to Deidra’s face, my heart wrenched. I reached my arms out to draw her against my chest, trying to comfort her, but she was stiff, and she pushed me away.
Then, a second too late, she gave me a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“He’s a liar,” she said. “But let’s play his game.”
It was a bad idea. I could tell from her eyes that no matter how skeptical she was, she also desperately wanted for it to be real.
But there was no stopping her.
“I’ll be here,” I told her, touching her arm. This time, she didn’t shy away, but looked up at me. The glittering longing in her eyes stirred my urge to protect her.
But her desire was the most dangerous thing I couldn’t protect her from.
“I know,” she said quietly. “Thanks, Tris.”
“Come back to the land of the living,” I said lightly, teasingly, but I meant it.
I wasn’t sure she was going to choose ultimately to walk out of Truby’s world, the world of death and magic, and back into our world. Anxiety twisted my stomach.
But I had to trust her.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Deidra
“It will feel like a dream,” one of the witches told me as I sat down on the floor. She hovered one hand behind my back, as if she wanted to help me lay back on the pillow on the floor. When I glared at her, the impulse seemed to vanish. She straightened, then went on, “You may lose track of time. But you only have a few minutes with him.”
“Why?”
She eyed me. “Because that’s how the magic works.”
“Seems like kind of a cop-out answer, doesn’t it? Is there some way to extend it?”
“This generation,” the man in the corner muttered. “So entitled. It’s not enough to just meet the dead.”
Tristan stuffed his hands into his pockets. His voice was deceptively casual when he said, “Truby wants her to be his heir. That would put this entitled generation in charge of the coven, wouldn’t it?”
The man turned away, pretending he hadn’t heard.
No matter where we were or how anxious I was, Tristan put a smile on my face.
I drank from their stupid golden pitcher, sipping some potion that smelled of rose oil and tasted like liquefied kale and would probably just make me hallucinate. Then I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand as I lay down.
“Just relax,” the witch told me.
Tristan said, “Well, let’s hope the spell’s not dependent on that.”
I pulled a face. “I’m not as tightly wound as Cade.”
“Something to brag about for sure,” he said.
His smartass comments put a faint smile on my face as I stared up at the dimly lit ceiling above. Then my body seemed to settle into the cool floor, my muscles relaxing, and I felt a chill sweep over me. My muscles twitched with a sudden surge—the way they do sometimes as we’re falling asleep—and then relaxed.
Well, damn. I was falling asleep.
My eyes ached too much to keep open. The dim light of the room faded away. I had the strangest sense of movement, as if I was falling through space.
I sat up with a jolt, my stomach unsettled by the sense of motion. I was in the darkness, complete darkness, not like the dim candlelit room where I’d been a few minutes before.
I could hear my breath, rough and scared in the night, before I pressed my lips closed and forced myself to breathe deeply through my nose. Relax, Deidra. It’s just a dream.
“What are you doing here?”
It was Liam’s voice, calm and quiet.
When I turned, he stood behind me, limned by light. Behind him was the familiar dojo, my second home, the one I’d left that Saturday morning with no idea that I’d never return.
“Tell me you’re all right, Deidra,” he said urgently, an edge of fear threaded through his words.
“I’m fine,” I said. Then, because it was really quite the situation, I added, “More or less.”
He looked so familiar, so relaxed. He wore loose basketball shorts, like he usually did in the dojo, and a sleeveless t-shirt that revealed the intricate tattoos that wove up his arms.
“You’re not dead,” he said, relief in his voice. Then, as if he’d forgotten, he added, “But I am.”
I came to him, uncertainly, until I stood right in front of him. I’d imagined myself running into his arms, being wrapped up in one of his hugs again, but I felt suddenly shy.
It would hurt so much if I touched him, and my fingers passed right through. He looked substantial now, but it might be a lie. “If I touch you, will I—are you real?”
A faint smile touched his lips. “Come onto the mats and find out.”
I smiled back at the invitation. Well, that sounded like my uncle, all right.
The two of us went onto the dojo floor together. He held out his fists to bump knuckles, the way we always had before, and I cringed as I held my own fists out. But his knuckles hit mine, firm and familiar, and my breath caught in my chest.
“Why did you come here?” he asked, moving back into a fighting stance.
“I didn’t ever really get the chance to say goodbye,” I said, putting my fists up, sliding my leg back into horse stance.
His lips twisted as if that were ridiculous. “Oh, come on.”
“Don’t be a jerk. I’ve got like five minutes with you.”
He moved fast as a flash, trying to get inside my stance. I landed a solid punch into his rock-solid abs, before he caught my wrist and hooked one foot inside the back of my calf. He threw me down to the ground.
As soon as I hit the mats, I was already rolling up to my feet and back into my stance.
“You and I said goodbye plenty,” he said. “You know I love you. What the hell else do you need from me?”
“I don’t know. Closure? Final words of wisdom?”
He huffed in disbelief. “Which one is it?”
“I don’t know. Hunters don’t do therapy.”
“Maybe you should.”
I moved to hit him, and he blocked me with crossed forearms. The two of us traded blows and blocks, and I slowly worked him back across the mat, putting him on the defensive.
“You don’t need closure,” he said. “That’s a fucking myth when you’ve lost someone you love. It’s always going to hurt—you know that. It’ll just hurt less one day.”
“I know.” But the pain of that knowledge still tightened my chest until I thought it would take my breath away.
He threw a fast, furious combo at me, and I jumped over his whirling leg, then kicked into a backflip to get away from him. He had me retreating now.
“You look strong,” he said.
“I’m at the academy now.”
He nodded. “I guess I should’ve seen that coming.”
“Too bad I didn’t see that coming.” My voice came out heated. I never should have learned so much from Malcolm instead of from Liam.
“You want words of wisdom?” he asked skeptically.
“Well, maybe not from the man who couldn’t even get a ring on Gretchen’s finger.” It was a joke, but it made me ache for everything she had lost—and everything he’d given up to raise me.
“You don’t need my voice in your ear for the rest of your life, Deidra,” he said. “You’ve got your own voice.”
I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes. I wasn’t ready to be alone in the world.
When my vision blurred, the fucking bastard took me down to the mat.
I rolled out from underneath him as soon as my shoulder blades slammed into the floor. Training took over, or he would’ve trapped me. I lashed out at him, kicking him as hard as I could in the side, and he grunted as we switched to ground-fighting, jockeying for position.
; “This isn’t what I thought it would be,” I muttered, kicking him again.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’ve always been more interested in what you need than what you want.”
“And this is what I need?” I managed enough distance between us to safely roll to my feet.
He jumped up too, pressing the attack, but this time I managed to throw him. His weight slammed against my shoulder, buckling my knees, before he fell to the mat.
“Must be,” he said. “It’s your dream. You brought the dojo here.”
“Stop,” I said, holding my hands out to him. “Just stop fighting. I want you to talk to me.”
He dusted his hands off on his shirt. “Okay.”
“I just wanted you to hold me and tell me everything is going to be okay.” My voice came out small, broken. I bit my lip, wishing I could take the words back.
He gave me a long, sympathetic gaze, and all his affection for me was in that look.
“I can’t do that for you,” he said finally. “I’m dead, Deidra.”
The words hung in the air, and I swallowed hard. My throat had gone thick.
I’d forgotten my conversation with Truby, but now I remembered. Maybe I had more family. Or maybe I’d had more family, past tense.
“Did I…did my parents have another child?”
The shadow that passed over his face told me everything I needed to know.
“Why was that a secret?” I demanded. “Why did you bind my magic?”
“Who told you about your sister?” he asked me urgently.
“Truby. Truby. It should’ve been you.” My voice came out broken.
Liam rubbed his hand over his face, a familiar gesture of frustration. “Why the hell are you listening to the witch?”
“I have to figure out what’s going on!” I couldn’t help but raise my voice. “I have so many questions! How come I never knew about Malcolm, I never knew I had a sister—”
“You have to be smart!” He shouted back. “Jesus, Deidra! Don’t come into my afterlife and worry me that you’re going to fuck up your one real life—”
“You’re terrible at this!” I yelled at him, all my rage boiling over. “You’re supposed to make me feel better. You’re supposed to help me move on!”
“That’s not my job! I’m dead.”
Liam was so frustrating and my hopes had been so high that suddenly, tears stung my eyes. “You’re still my uncle! You’re still the one who raised me! I wasn’t done with you.”
“And I wasn’t done with you. But you’re grown now,” he said, his voice softening although his jaw was still tense. He gave me one of those looks, as if he saw right through me. “I know it hurts. But you won’t find answers here. The answers you’re looking for are out in that world.”
He turned his head, and I saw the dim room, the witches standing watch and Tris crouching next to my sleeping body. Tristan’s handsome face was stern with worry as he watched over me, and my heart lurched at the sight.
“Just tell me something,” I said, my voice breaking. “Tell me one thing to bring back with me.”
“I love you,” he said. “So did your mom and dad. Always have, always will. Dead or alive. No matter what you do.”
His voice was fading, darkness falling over his face.
“But you already knew that, didn’t you? You don’t need me to tell you. You don’t need me.”
His words were still ringing in my ears when I sat up with a jerk. Hot tears spilled over my cheeks as I gasped, then Tristan gathered me into his arms.
The witches quietly left the room as I leaned forward into his grip. My tears soaked his shirt as he held me, as I cried so hard I was sobbing and gasping.
Tristan just held me tight, stroking my hair.
The pain inside me raged so hard that I almost couldn’t breathe, but Tristan sheltered me in his strong arms, here in the land of the living.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I stood, drying my eyes with my sleeve, as Truby stepped back into the room.
“I’m sorry that the conversation with Liam didn’t give you peace,” he said. He cocked his head to one side, studying my tear-streaked face. “Do you believe that it was really him, or still think that it was some trick of mine?”
I shook my head because I didn’t want to answer. That unsatisfying conversation with Liam felt real, knowing him. But maybe I’d conjured the Liam I needed in my head.
Maybe I just wanted to believe that I didn’t need anyone anymore.
Maybe I couldn’t convince myself that was true.
After losing the last of my family, I felt like I was walking on a tightrope with no net beneath. There was no one who could catch me if I fell.
I didn’t feel alone when I was with Tristan or Nix or Cade, but they weren’t family. Family’s stuck with you forever.
“Tell me about my sister,” I demanded.
“So Liam admitted she was real,” Truby said, a smirk spreading across his lips. “Your family never should have kept that secret from you.”
“Where is she?”
He frowned. “I can’t tell you exactly what happened, Deidra. But I have friends who can help you go back into your memories. They can reveal what you’ve forgotten.”
Tristan touched my back, and I startled before I looked up at him. I’d almost forgotten that he was there.
The look written across his face was worried. His emotion jolted my chest. He didn’t trust that I understood Truby was trying to lead me down a fucked-up path. But I knew that. I had to seem like I was following him down that path, to stay close long enough to kill him.
“Why don’t you give me a direct answer?” I asked Truby.
“Because your whole life has been wrapped up in lies,” he said. “I don’t want you to hate me because I’m the one who unraveled the truth too quickly.”
“I already hate you,” I reminded him.
His smile twitched at the corners of his lips. Did I smile that same way? I hated the thought.
“Maybe,” he said. “But I’m not convinced you’ll hate me until my dying day.”
If the Hunters had their way, I’d be his dying day.
“You’d think that perhaps you’d save some of that hatred for the people who bound your magic and stole your memories,” he added. “The Hunters are arrogant. They think they can manage you.”
Truby looked at Tristan meaningfully.
“I’m here as her friend,” Tristan said, his voice cool. “Watching her back.”
“Right, because she was safe with you and the Hunters,” Truby said. “The very same Hunters that are chasing her now.”
A stubborn look came over Tristan’s face. “You said they bound her magic. Is she still…bound? Can you help free her?”
“Maybe,” Truby admitted. “I think I’d rather wait on that until I’m sure she won’t use magic to liquefy my internal organs, though.”
He said the words in amusement, but they made my heart beat faster. If I could master my magic, maybe I could kill him. Then I could go back to the academy. Or I could go wherever the hell I wanted.
“It’s been…a lot,” I said. “Can Tristan and I have some time alone?”
“Sure,” he said. “Walk the grounds. In the meantime, I’ll have lunch prepared for you two in the sun room, where you can dine in privacy. Just don’t try to go beyond the gates, please.”
I didn’t bother to ask him what would happen if we tried to leave.
“My friends will arrive later this afternoon,” he added. “So I hope you’ll be ready by then to delve into your past.”
“I’m ready,” I promised him.
The smile that twisted his lips looked almost…sad.
“We’ll see,” he said quietly.
Tristan’s posture was stiff as the two of us left Truby behind and headed up the stairs. When we crossed through Truby’s opulent house and stepped out into the frosty air, Tristan exhaled loudly, as if he’d been holding his breath the whole time we w
ere in that house.
We still couldn’t speak openly. I’d known it would be like this going in, but it was more frustrating than I’d expected. I just wanted to talk with Tristan.
The two of us walked fast through Truby’s garden, as if we had someplace to go. It looked as if he had an ornate garden in his backyard, with cement planters for flowers around an in-ground pool that was covered now and more flowerbeds stretching away almost to the stone fence an acre behind the house. But now, everything was brown and withered, frosted with snow.
I took his hand in mine, giving him a searching look, and he squeezed my hand as he looked down at me. When he gazed into my eyes, he looked confident as ever, and I wondered if maybe his doubt in me was an act.
Or maybe his faith in me was the act.
If I were Tristan, I’d doubt my ability to sort truth from lies too. I wasn’t sure I trusted myself with the questions I had now.
What if Truby isn’t completely evil?
What if I don’t want to kill him?
When he died, whatever he knew went with him. His memories of my grandparents and of my mother. The memories of what twisted Truby to make him so evil, and the last hints of who he’d been before…
Even if I could contact him beyond the grave, he might not want to talk to the one who murdered him.
Tristan stopped by the stone wall that surrounded the grounds, and I almost bumped into him because I was so lost in my thoughts.
“Deidra,” Tristan murmured, and my name sounded strange on his lips when it broke the silence. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m good,” I promised him. “I really am.”
“What did you and Liam talk about?”
“He said I did have a sister. I forgot to ask until we were almost out of time.” I bit my lip, embarrassed at what a bad job I’d done with the rare opportunity to visit with the dead.
Although if I did take over the coven, I’d have an all-access pass to the dead.
But I’d only take my place as Truby’s heir if it were possible for the coven to be used for good.
He nodded slowly. “What was it like seeing him?”
I couldn’t quite read Tristan’s expression.
