by Amanda Ashby
“I’m sorry that I failed you,” Travis whispered before racing out of the chamber in search of Thomas, whom Cassidy could only guess was by now long gone.
The fire was everywhere, and Cassidy suddenly wondered how she was supposed to get back to her body seven centuries away. Did she just close her eyes and will it to be so? Panic welled in her chest, but before she could decide what to do, there was a sudden coughing noise, and she turned to see Hugh de la Croix, his dying eyes staring straight at her.
“It’s you. You’re the one. She who chooses,” he croaked, his breath short and his face waxen. “Please be gentle; this is not their fault. Both my sons are good at heart, but they are broken. Just remember that whoever you choose will be made whole again.” For a moment he smiled through his pain before his face once again crumpled under the weight of his wound. “But the other one will be lost to us forever. I fear for them, and for you, with this burden you carry.”
Pick me, a voice cried from somewhere, and Cassidy opened her mouth to speak; instead, she fell to the ground and everything went blank.
THIRTY
“Stand still,” Celeste Gilbert’s mom said around a mouthful of pins as she glanced up from where she was pinning the hem of a blue dress. Cassidy was pretty sure that understudies didn’t normally get their own costumes, but she’d underestimated Celeste’s quest for the perfect play—not only had Celeste roped her mom into doing all the costumes, but she had insisted that Cassidy have her own wardrobe. Something that had sounded a lot better in theory. She let out a sigh, causing Mrs. Gilbert to growl, “Cassidy, you have a choice. Either you stand still or you get jabbed in the leg with a pin.”
“Oh, however will you make such a tough decision?” Travis sauntered across the room, looking more gorgeous than ever in pantaloons and a loose white shirt that brought out the creamy richness of his skin and his dark curls. He raised a quizzical eyebrow at her. “And speaking of decisions, there is that other matter you still need to make up your mind about. Not wanting to pressure you, but there are only three days until the solstice, so if you’re going to choose me, then I need to start planning.”
“Travis.” Cassidy glared at him, but Mrs. Gilbert didn’t seem to notice as she got to her feet.
“We’ll do the other one tomorrow, because I don’t think I can face any more wriggling.” Then without another word she headed to the other side of the room and began to gather up an armful of dresses. It was obvious from whom Celeste got her attitude. Once Mrs. Gilbert was out of hearing distance, Cassidy turned to Travis and narrowed her eyes.
“I told you that when I decide you’ll be the first to know. Though right now I’m tempted to send the Black Rose to China.” Cassidy jumped down off the box she’d been standing on and tried to tug the dress over her head. Mrs. Gilbert had tried to get her to take her retro bowling shirt and jeans off for the fitting, but Cassidy had refused. Something she was now regretting as the dress felt too tight to pull over her head.
“Need a hand, Ms. Snappy?” Travis asked in a wolfish voice as she felt the dress gently lifted over her head until she was staring into Travis’s handsome face. “I take it from your foul mood that you still haven’t spoken to my brother. I’m not actually sure whether to be flattered or offended that you’re speaking to me and not him.”
“Travis, please.” Cassidy spun away, annoyed that he could read her so well. It had been a little over four weeks since she’d witnessed the battle between the two brothers and the death of their foster father. Since then Thanksgiving had passed, and while it wasn’t strictly true that she hadn’t spoken to Thomas, she’d made sure that conversation had been kept to a bare minimum, and she had made it clear that if it didn’t involve her training, then she wasn’t interested. To his credit, Thomas had never asked if she’d followed his advice and used the sword to see the terrible tragedy that had taken place, and so they’d managed to survive in an uneasy stalemate.
Travis had been harder to avoid.
Not only because of his physical presence but because he didn’t seem to think there was anything wrong with discussing how his father had died. Nor did he seem to mind that she had seen his blatant desire for the Black Rose. All he would say was that he wasn’t embarrassed by who he was. None of which made her choice any easier. Well, calling it a choice wasn’t really fair, since as far as she could see, there was just no way she could decide, and so she’d ended up putting it into the too-hard basket and spent her time hanging out with her dad, who was planning to go back to work in two more weeks, plus learning her lines for the play and doing as much training as possible.
The only problem was that the solstice was going to be there in three days, whether she had decided or not.
“Well, just remember that I’m the one who is nice to you. And who brings you Diet Coke whenever you want it.” He waved a bottle in her face before putting it down next to her.
“Yes, getting free Diet Coke is a very good reason to hand over the most dangerous treasure ever invented.”
“It’s not dangerous,” Travis reminded her, with a slight edge to his voice. “It’s the user who determines what happens with it. Of course, if you give it to Thomas and he disappears back to the lack of hygiene that is my century, you know that, despite his impressive fighting skills, the Demon Lords will eventually get it, and when they do, it will be an even bigger mess than Paris. Because unlike my own sweet self, Demon Lords will not use it for good.”
“Travis, stop.” Cassidy wished that the pounding in her head would disappear. “It’s not helping me. And you keep saying that Thomas is the bad one, but at least he didn’t pretend to like me just so I would pick him.”
Which was why she was also convinced that it wasn’t Thomas’s voice in her mind saying, “Pick me.”
Travis’s face darkened as he stalked around the room several times before making his way back to her, his eyes not quite amber, but not quite brown, either. “Cass, there has never been any pretense. You are like no one else. Perhaps if I liked you less, I could’ve compelled you more.” Then without saying another word, he leaned forward and dropped the lightest kiss on her cheek. “Choose wisely, sweet girl, because if you get it wrong, it might not be the end of the world, but it will sure as hell be close to it.”
Then he was gone, and Cassidy sat down on the box she’d just been standing on, her hand fluttering up to her cheek. She longed to put her hands over her head and pretend that it wasn’t happening but was stopped by the sound of the stage crew hurrying past her. Rehearsals must be finished, which meant she had to go to meet Celeste.
She wouldn’t go as far as to say that they were friends, but thanks to Nash’s almost constant presence, Celeste hadn’t seemed to have minded how much time they were spending with her—and had even offered Cassidy a lift home when she’d discovered Nash wasn’t going to be there.
Celeste was waiting for her by the stage door, and so Cassidy hurried over, her sports bag close in hand. In the last four weeks she’d fought and killed fifteen more demons, each time with either a grim Thomas by her side directing her or with Travis and his more flamboyant sword tricks, though never with both of them at once.
“So,” Celeste said as they hurried toward her SUV, the December wind pecking at their skin. “Since Nash isn’t here, there’s something that I’ve been meaning to ask. Do you think that—”
“No,” Cassidy cut her off because she had a pretty good idea where this was heading, and it wouldn’t have been the first time she’d been forced to give a love-struck Nash fan the It’s Really, Really, Really Not You, It’s Him speech. However, she didn’t want to give it to Celeste, especially with so little time left before the winter solstice. If Celeste was pissed with Nash, then it would be harder to protect her.
“No?” Celeste wrinkled her pert nose and flicked back her glossy hair. “How do you know what I was even going to ask you?”
Crap. Cassidy winced. “Sorry, I just thought you were going to ask me about N
ash’s dating preferences.”
“I was going to ask about Nash’s Christmas present,” Celeste corrected before flushing. “I just saw this really nice old book on the history of telescopes when he took me into the antiquarian bookstore. It was by someone called Patrick Rivers. I was wondering if he already had a copy.”
“Oh.” Cassidy’s mouth opened and then shut again. Then she paused for a moment and decided that she needed to start from the beginning. “So when did Nash take you to the bookstore?”
“The other day,” Celeste said in a breezy voice. “After you ran off mumbling something about being late for a dentist appointment.”
“Oh,” Cassidy said again and nodded, since these days being late for any kind of appointment was actually code for “There’s a demon running down Gibson Terrace.” Nash had obviously decided to take Celeste into the bookstore to distract her.
“So?” Celeste shot her a you-are-still-sooooo-weird look. “Do you know if he has the book?”
“Sorry. I wouldn’t have a clue, but I’m sure I can find out if you like.”
“Really? That would be great.” Celeste seemed extra-ordinarily happy as she drove the rest of the trip to Cassidy’s house, humming a David Bowie song. Cassidy groaned since, while most kids their age didn’t listen to much Bowie, he was one of Nash’s idols. But it was quickly forgotten as her house came into view, and Cassidy realized there was an ambulance parked outside it.
“What house do you think that’s for?” Celeste asked, but Cassidy hardly heard, and as soon as the SUV came to a stop she jumped out and raced over as the two paramedics came out, with her dad strapped onto a stretcher. Cassidy’s knees began to buckle, but she forced herself to ignore it, heading straight toward her mom. Her mom’s face was pale, and her hands were shaking.
“What happened?” Cassidy’s voice was a little above a whisper.
“He was complaining of a headache, and we were just about to take him to the doctor when he collapsed.” Her mom took a deep breath. “Cass, they think he’s had a stroke.”
THIRTY-ONE
No. It couldn’t be happening. Cassidy sat in the corner of the hospital room. Out in the corridor her mom was having an intense conversation with the doctors, while there in the middle on a metal bed with IV tubes and monitors attached to him was her father, the person she loved most in the world. Yet she couldn’t tell him that she loved him most in the world because he had slipped into a coma.
It had been two days since her dad had been rushed here, and they had taken him straight through to have an MRI, only to confirm that his stroke had been caused by a massive blood clot in his head. It was too big and too dangerous to operate on, and by earlier this morning they had been warned to prepare for the worst. He hadn’t moved once.
Cassidy turned away. She couldn’t look at him lying there. He had told her he was fine. He had promised it. Had even laughed at her for worrying when she had first bought the tattoos almost two months ago. Her throat tightened, but she forced the tears back down. If she cried, it was real, and if it was real, then—
No. She paced over to the door. She had to get out of there. Just for a few minutes. Just so that she could convince herself that it wasn’t really happening. Her coat was lying on one of the chairs, and she grabbed it as she hurried out.
“I’m just going to get some air,” she told her mom as she passed, careful not to make eye contact as she rushed by. The December weather had turned bitter and icy, and the frost-tipped grass crunched as she made her way to a bench seat. Her skin tingled and her breath was heavy in the cool air, but Cassidy didn’t care. All she cared about was not thinking.
In her pocket her cell phone beeped but when she checked the screen it was only Nash. He had been with her most of the time but had left this morning to go follow Celeste. Cassidy hadn’t minded, since she knew he was feeling pretty helpless to do anything. She texted him back to tell him there was no news and then settled back down, staring into space. She wasn’t sure how long she had been there when she heard footsteps, and she looked up to see her mom walking toward her, two coffee cups in her hands.
“I thought this might warm you up.” Her mom passed her a cup and sat down next to her so that they were both looking straight ahead at a large willow tree. Finally, her mom spoke. “He wouldn’t want you to be upset, you know.”
“Well, he shouldn’t have gotten sick then,” Cassidy retorted as tears stung at her eyes and anger pricked at her chest.
“Honey, that’s not fair.” Her mom tightened her grip on the cup so that her knuckles were white and strained.
“Jeez, Mom, he’s forty-five years old and in a coma. What’s fair got to do with anything?” Cassidy could feel her lower lip tremble in annoyance.
For a moment her mom was silent, and Cassidy braced herself for the lecture that was about to come, but instead her mom just leaned back on the bench and sighed. Her face was almost gray, and the bags under her eyes made Cassidy wonder if she’d gotten any sleep at all when Nash had driven her home for a quick nap and a shower.
Then she noticed how stiff her mom’s shoulders were, and anger was suddenly replaced by guilt. Her mom had done many things over the years to piss her off, but this wasn’t one of them.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Cassidy’s throat contracted. “That was out of line.”
“No, actually, it wasn’t.” Her mom was still looking straight ahead as she closed her red-rimmed eyes. “But don’t you see, Cass? That’s the whole damn problem. If your father was here, he would never have said the wrong thing in the first place, and you wouldn’t need to apologize.”
“You didn’t say the wrong thing,” Cassidy forced herself to admit. “Because, let’s face it, there is nothing you can say to make this okay.”
“You’re like him, you know,” her mom suddenly said. “Strong. Kind. Caring. Like two peas in a pod. I often wished I could be more like the pair of you. Less uptight.” Then she let out another sigh and finally turned to Cassidy. “I know I haven’t always been the easiest person to be around, but Cass, you can talk to me, you know.”
“I know,” Cassidy said, and her mom flinched, as if she thought Cassidy was joking. It was probably no less than she deserved. “Dad told me the truth about Boston. I guess he didn’t want me to keep giving you a hard time for the next hundred years.”
“A hundred years? Is that the going rate for parental punishment right now?” Her mom shuddered before wincing. “I’m sorry. I probably should’ve told you myself. I just hate justifying my actions, and if I’m honest, I didn’t want you to feel manipulated into feeling like you should be happy when you were obviously mad at me. Of course, I hadn’t expected you to stay mad for quite so long.”
“I guess I get the stubborn gene from you,” Cassidy said, giving her mom a weak smile, then studying her face. “Do you regret going? I mean, with everything that’s happening?”
“Of course. Every single day I have regrets, and please don’t think that my decision was an easy one. I do believe it was the right one, and the fact that we managed to rebuild all the pension funds definitely made it worth it, but I think you know as well as I do what the consequences were. You and your father. Vacations. Dance recitals—”
“Just one dance recital, and if Dad told you it was good, then he was lying. I was lousy.”
Her mom gave a watery laugh. “Doesn’t change the fact that I still missed it,” she said as a flash of pain crossed her face. Cassidy gave her a curious look.
“But you still went even though you knew the consequences?”
“Like I said, I didn’t think things would end up quite so bad between us,” her mom said in a soft voice before regretfully nodded her head. “But yes, I still went. Knowing what I knew, I just didn’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t try to help all those people from whom my father’s company had stolen. I would’ve had their blood on my hands. Most days I’m still not sure that I got it right.”
> “You got it right,” Cassidy said in a soft voice as her mom’s cell phone buzzed. Her mom studied the screen and got to her feet.
“No news, I’m afraid. Just more paperwork. Don’t stay out here too long, okay?”
Cassidy waited until her mom was gone before taking a sip of her coffee. It had way more sugar and milk than she usually liked, but she found it strangely comforting. As she drank, she wondered if she could just stay there forever. Would that stop the world from moving and anything bad from happening?
She finished her drink and thrust her cold hands deep into the pockets of her coat. Normally, there were a few old tissues and ticket stubs in there, but tonight her fingers found something else. It wasn’t until she pulled it out that she realized it was an owl feather. She must have slipped it in there, back before she knew who the owl really was. She unconsciously ran the soft down along her cheek. How could this be happening? How could she live in a world where demons were real? Where Celeste Gilbert could be a mystical vessel? But where her dad was . . . dying.
She’d finally said it. He was dying. More tears came, and deep gasping sobs racked her body. Cassidy lay down on the small seat and curled herself into a ball. She wasn’t sure how long she lay like that, but when she finally stopped, she looked down to see the once-beautiful feather was sodden and ruined. Poor feather. Poor broken feather. For one idle moment she wondered if Thomas would hate her for ruining something so perfect. Then she decided that he wouldn’t care. He didn’t care about sentiment. He cared only about duty. Everything he did was out of duty—
She froze. Thomas had used magic to heal Nash out of duty.
She had touched Nash’s arm, and then Thomas had sent his magic through the grimoire so that it came out her fingers in a dazzling surge of energy. Her tattoo had blazed, and then Nash had been better.
