by Cait Ashwood
“Every life counts,” he said simply.
So, have you counted all those that died because you refused to speak up? It was too soon to estimate death counts, though that was something that would have to be done before Deuce’s sentencing. “Every life should count, but for some reason, you decided that saving them wasn’t your job. You knew humanity would continue on, and you knew the Order had never died. You were okay with any amount of suffering up here, because it kept the damned fools that exiled you safe.”
“That’s not true!” Deuce finally rose from his chair, towering over Ace. “I had a daughter here on the surface, and a woman I loved who died bringing her into this world. I cared, damn it.”
Ace stared at him, deadpan. “A woman you abandoned before she ever gave birth.”
Deuce’s eyes hardened. “Because I had my assignment and was gone searching for Chosen nearly every day of the year, just as you were.”
“Chosen that were never actually needed!”
Deuce glowered. “Say what you will, but you can never say I didn’t care, that I wouldn’t have done anything to keep Clover safe.”
“You sure have a funny way of showing it.” Ace retreated, walking slowly around his desk and pushing a button. A bell outside his office rang and the doors parted, revealing a pair of guards.
“Clap this man in magnetics and escort him to the dungeon.” He sighed heavily, not breaking eye contact with Deuce as the man stared at him, unresisting.
“I can promise you a trial, and that’s only because I’m too close to you to judge you.” Ace might have imagined the tilt of Deuce’s head, it was so slight.
He couldn’t watch as his men marched him off to the holding cells. He’d had precious few occasions to use them, mostly as scare tactics for young men who thought they were a bit too invincible. He’d never thought about needing the cells for true reasons, much less that his brother would be one of them.
He’s not my brother, not anymore. We swore oaths to do everything in our power to restore the Order to humanity. The entire thing was a lie, a farce. And I was a part of it, because I never questioned. Even after he worked undercover with Zaddicus, when there was no explanation of how they were connected, I never asked. Ace stared at his desk from the visitor side, unblinking.
I’m as much to blame as he is.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Hound crouched beneath the shadow of a stone, staring at the Institute as the sun rose. Light hit the restored eastern tower first, the glare from the windows nearly blinding him. He stared at the wall she’d leaned against, bow in her hand with a horrible wound in her thigh, refusing to surrender as the tainted men swarmed toward her, Zeche her last standing defender.
He couldn’t get away from her, no matter where he went. It seemed the entire planet held a memory of her somewhere, forcing her face before his eyes. Her laughter, once one of the best sounds in his world, was never far from his inner ear. Yet she’d endured horrendous torment in this building, which made the fact that this was where he had to return all the more bitter. He wasn’t ready. He hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye, and he couldn’t do it on his own. He needed a Phaser for that, but it was going to be tricky. They’d assume he wanted the impossible, which, while he’d give anything to have her back, he knew better than to ask for. Audrey couldn’t be brought outside the realm of her natural timeline. If a Phaser took her from the past and tried to bring her into the present, she’d die immediately upon her arrival.
No, what he wanted was much simpler. He wanted a goodbye. He wanted the morning of the day she died, a chance to make sure she knew he loved her before the void claimed her. He wouldn’t try and talk her out of it for one very simple reason: she’d died happy. For so long she’d called herself a horrible mother, an absentee. She’d believed it with every bone in her body. But in those moments right before she died, she knew victory. She was doing the one thing any mother would do for her children, and in it, she finally knew peace. He wouldn’t keep her from that, no matter how much each breath without her hurt his lungs. For all she’d given up in life, she deserved the death she wanted.
Convincing the Phasers he had no intentions of interfering with the timeline would require much more patience and explanation than he cared to give. He wanted that morning. A chance to make love to her again, to see her face with all her walls down, where it was just the two of them. No Order, no children, no responsibilities. Just two halves of a whole, coming together for the completion they both craved. Instead of leaving for work, he’d come back, bring her breakfast in bed. Kiss the spot of jelly off her chin that she always managed to spill. It was the small things he missed the most. Her sigh as he’d slip into bed, the way she’d unconsciously press herself against him, like she needed him as much as air. It was being loved, and being wanted. It was not being alone. If she had to die, if he had to lose her, he wanted this. It wasn’t much to ask.
It still took a fair bit of convincing before he phased to the front gates. He could have gone straight to Ace’s office, what with his years of training and work in magnetic fields, but that wasn’t right. If he wanted help, he needed to follow the proper channels. Some things were too ingrained in him to change now.
The men at the gate shared a look before stepping aside, letting him in without a word. Hound made it partway through the courtyard, just past the large gold disk in the floor, before having to deal with people. Jasper was the only one with the courage or stupidity to approach him, and as his mood soured, he wasn’t sure just which trait the lad possessed.
“I’m here for your father, not you.” Best to head things off from the start. He didn’t need their pity or compassion. He needed a Phaser so he could say goodbye, and then he needed to find Zaddicus. That was the only purpose left in his life, and he didn’t plan on leaving this world until he’d put that bastard in the ground.
“And I don’t care what you need him for, you need to see Brana first.” Jasper normally wasn’t the earnest sort, but today of all days, he was.
“I told you to look after her.” They were good together, even if it was going to take a while for Brana to see it. He could rest easy, knowing Jasper was there for her. He’d probably been much more of a comfort to her than her own father could be.
Jasper raised an eyebrow. “She needs to see you, to know you’re okay, but that’s not why you need to see her.”
Hound snapped. “I’ll see her when I’m damned well ready to see her, boy.”
Jasper stepped up into his face. “Don’t make me do this in public, Hound.”
He scoffed. “Do what?”
The tenseness around Jasper’s eyes relaxed the slightest degree. “It’s about Audrey. Something they found.”
The world tilted beneath his feet and the sky took a sickening lurch to the side. It was worse. It was definitely worse than he’d feared. If someone had desecrated her, if they’d even dared--
“Let me take you to her. Please.”
Somehow, despite the roaring of emotions in his chest, he managed to nod.
Unsurprisingly, Jasper phased them right from the courtyard, a feat only Hound had been capable of previously. Boy learns quickly.
They took form on a jettison of rock. Hound heard crashing waves not far below, and the sky seemed perpetually overcast. The Pacific Northwest. But why? Why is my daughter here, alone?
Jasper took off without him, loping toward a copse of trees not far away. It was only now that Hound realized what was in the boy’s hands: gardening tools. There was wire for making cages, tape, string, everything one could need for the cultivation of young trees.
Hound stared at the source of green suspiciously. Brana was like him in a lot of ways, and like her mother, too. They both tended to internalize things much more than was healthy. It made sense in a way, finding her working on her craft in the middle of nowhere like this. At least she’s been able to find some solace.
Jasper slipped in among the trees, quickly fading from view
, but it wasn’t until Hound saw Brana that he was able to force his feet to move. She looked exhausted, her slumped posture visible even from this distance. She stood just at the edge of the copse, a hand on one of the trees, staring at him. Jasper emerged behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
This was going to hurt. Brana had her mother’s eyes and heart shaped face. It was one of the reasons he’d avoided seeing her. Gray eyes weren’t common, but Hound could barely stand to see anyone with blond hair. Looking at their daughter, who shared so much with her mother, was going to hurt like hell.
This isn’t right. I shouldn’t be here. Something pulled at him, called for him, and he was powerless to resist. He stumbled forward, uncoordinated. As he approached, Jasper retreated, away from the trees.
Trees? No, it wasn’t just any random arrangement of trees. As he got closer, the formation appeared. This was a Grove. Brana was starting a Grove, way out here in the Pacific Northwest of America. They had some Groves in North America, but this land wasn’t any good for farming, or livestock, for that matter. What the hell was she doing?
“Dad.” Her voice was tight with choked tears, but he could hear the relief in that single syllable, too.
“What--” he shook his head, his voice failing him.
Her lower lip trembled, but she managed to smile at him. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
The times Hound had set foot in a Grove were few, and none of them were particularly happy memories. The only time that hadn’t been horrible had been when Audrey cured him.
The trees here were clearly young, most of them barely taller than himself. He followed her through the rings, the trees showing more growth the closer to the center he got. She paused at the innermost ring, and she didn’t have to say another word.
He’d never felt a connection with a tree, the Groves remaining as distant and mystical to him as they were the rest of the population. But this tree, this oak--or whatever it was--called to him on a primal level. He needed it, needed to be near it, with a strength that would have been terrifying if he was in his right mind. He had no coherent thoughts as he stepped forward, except for the strangest feeling that he’d come home.
Energy enveloped him and tears fell down his cheeks as he blinked. Audrey. He didn’t know how he knew, but he did. The mark on his chest, dead of all feeling these past weeks, tingled like a limb that had fallen asleep. He reached a hand out to touch the bark, staring with wonder as it warmed under his hand.
“How is this possible?” He hadn’t meant to speak aloud, but the wonder of her, of just being in her presence again, had stripped him of any walls he might have had.
The bark beneath his hand shifted, moved as if possessed and he pulled his hand back, alarmed. On their first night together, their mark had cemented. While a howling wolf stared out of Hound’s chest, Audrey’s mark had been more protective in nature, a she-wolf standing in a wide stance, head low with eyes up, ready to jump for the throat. That same pattern stared back at him now from the skin of the tree, the bark raised and lowered so the image stood out in relief.
“I’ve studied all the texts, and reviewed Lily’s testimony. I only have a theory, but I’m hoping she can confirm it before long.” Brana’s voice was soft and reverent behind him, and he nodded at her. This was so much, so overwhelming, that he couldn’t find any words.
“A life was given, and a life was demanded. The life of an infant has so much less energy than that of an adult. Her gift was more than what was taken, and so the excess had to be returned, or the Grove would be in her debt. Nature prefers balance, and so they gave us... these.”
Hound tore his eyes away from the bark and stared at Brana’s outstretched hand, not quite ready to look her in the face. Two acorns lay nestled in her palm, looking for all the world like the most innocent nuts that might be taken by a squirrel and devoured instantly.
“They... became her?” He stepped forward, leaning against the tree and resting his forehead against her. Every place he touched the tree, it warmed, as if it was her way of holding him again. He choked on the sob in his chest, and the energy surrounding him grew sad. He felt more than saw Brana come up next to him, placing her hand on the bark in a familiar gesture.
“She... doesn’t want you to be sad. She’s not gone, not really. In a few more years, she’ll get her real words back. She is both the mother tree, and its Guardian.”
Hound looked up, tears stuck in his lashes. “And you’ve done all this?” The Grove was only three rings thick so far, the saplings tied for support and surrounded by wire cages to keep any animals from damaging them.
Brana shook her head. “I just get them started. She does most of the work.” Her eyes scanned over the bark, pausing on the marred bit where the mark was displayed. She frowned, eyes glowing for a moment before her breath hitched in her chest.
“She says... she says her only regret is not getting to say goodbye.”
That’s all I wanted. Just a chance to say goodbye. Tears fell from his chin, but he didn’t care. He pulled Brana into a hug, crushing her into his chest. Her own tears wet his shirt, but he just held her. “She doesn’t have to say it anymore. She’s still here.”
Brana pulled back just enough to peer up into her face. “She’ll never be able to take on physical form. Not like us.”
While he doubted the truth of that statement due to another Guardian’s possession attempt on her, he wasn’t going to argue it. “It doesn’t matter. She’ll find ways to speak to me.” Of that, he was certain. Wind rustled through her branches, and a wave of peace washed over him, so deep and serene it took his breath away. His fingers trailed down the bark. “You got what you wanted, in the end.” He got the faintest sense of approval through his mark. It was almost as if she were here in the flesh. If he had his way, he’d never leave.
Except that wasn’t true. The man responsible for this was still free in the world, and another Order was likely enslaved under his thumb. Whatever he’d attempted when he took over the Order Hound served, he was now primed to execute properly with the Order in that volcano. It was past time for that man to meet his maker, and Hound was going to be the one making the introductions.
“Dad?” Brana stared up at him, her eyes wary.
He cleared his throat, though it did nothing to ease the roughness of his voice. “I’ve got something to do before I can come home, Brana.”
Tears glistened in her eyes. “I’ve already almost lost her. Please, don’t do this.”
Conviction spread through him like the warmth from a fire. “I have to, Brana.” He took her chin in his hand, staring down into the eyes he’d spent a lifetime loving. “He has to be stopped, and I can’t just stay here with your mother and pretend his evil doesn’t exist.”
“We can take care of that together. Lily is back, but the others won’t accept her leadership now. I’m the only one that can lead us. Please, just wait. We’ll make a plan, figure things out--”
Hound put his finger over her lips, silencing her. “If I need backup, I’ll come back, I promise. I’m not going after him until I’m sure he’s mine.” Her eyes searched his, and he gave her the reassurance she so desperately wanted. “I’ll be careful, and I’ll come back. No demon on this earth can keep me from you and your mother.”
She straightened, and for the first time he saw her as the adult she was becoming, not the child he knew her as. “I’m going to hold you to that, Father. Don’t you dare disappoint me.”
With her back straight, she walked out of her infant Grove, Seeker black hurrying up to meet her as Jasper came to her side. With them in charge, we might just make it. Hound took one last look at the tree and left.
He had work to do, and there was no time like the present.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Jasper rose to his feet at Brana’s approach. “Everything okay?”
She nodded, still blinking back tears. “He got to meet her, in a fashion.”
He stared at her for a long mom
ent. “Then why don’t you look happy?”
It was hard to say. The one adult male in her life she’d always looked to for guidance had been her father, and even then, that guidance had come from observing the man’s behavior more than any wisdom from his words. If Hound came back, it would be to live in the Grove. He wouldn’t take back his position of commander of the Tower’s forces. Those days were over.
“I...” How did she explain? Her choice in mate determined everything, but the only qualified individuals were nearly twice her age. “I’m too young for this, Jasper. It never should have happened this way.”
He pulled her into a hug she initially didn’t want, but the longer she stood there, the more she needed it. Eventually, she wrapped her arms around him and laid her head against his shoulder.
“It’s not fair, Ana, I know it’s not. But we’re all here, and we’re going to help you.” Jasper paused, squeezing her a little tighter. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
She sniffed, her tears starting again. “It was going to happen anyway.”
He pulled back enough to see her face. “What do you mean?”
Brana stepped away from him and hugged herself for comfort. “Before we found out about where Lily was, Mom told me she was stepping down, that she couldn’t stand to lead us anymore.”
She watched him putting the pieces together by his facial expressions, consternation vanishing when he finally reached his a-ha moment. “That’s why you wouldn’t tell me what was going on?”
“I’m not sure if I was ever free to choose, Jasper, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” She tried to convince herself that was something she was okay with, that it came with the territory, but she couldn’t. Jasper was her best friend, her other half, the only person that cared about her more than themselves. He was the one she ran to when things got rough, even before her own family members. He was always just there, and maybe she’d been foolish to hope their relationship could deepen and change as they got older.
