by Hickory Mack
“I know this looks bad, but I swear it isn’t what you think. If you give me the chance to explain, it will make more sense,” she said earnestly. Wren came back then, tearing at the moss in her hands, getting it to release the iodine within the leaves more freely. She packed the wound then tore strips from Elsie’s ruined shirt, finding the cleanest bits of fabric to use. Helping her sit up, she wound it around her ribs several times before gently settling her back against the tree.
Wren leaned forward and kissed her forehead, her fingers wrapping into her blue hair before letting go. She stood above her and looked worriedly into the trees. “I’m going to make a tincture we can use on your wound to speed up the healing, but it might take a little while to find what I need.”
“We’ll be okay,” Elsie promised. Saint wouldn’t hurt her, and on the crazy chance that he tried, Frost wouldn’t let anything happen. The wolf’s bad attitude seemed to have changed when he faced the prospect of near death. Wren glowered at the hound.
“I understand that you have had a claim over her for much longer than I have. However, the fact that you could leave her, allowing her to fall into my hands, negates your lead. My claim is stronger, and I will destroy you if you try to take her from me.” A feral snarl came from Wren’s throat, so threatening even Elsie’s eyes widened.
“It wasn’t like that. None of this was his fault, Wren—”
“There’s no need to defend him,” Wren snapped, but her face softened when she turned back to Elsie. “There’s nothing you could say or do to make me leave you. In this, he is inferior. I’ll return soon.” The spirit turned and walked back into the woods, leaving Elsie and the canines together in an awkward silence.
She clenched her hands in her lap, a flush bringing a small amount of color back into her cheeks. Saint raised his eyes and stared at her unabashedly, sending a tingle down her spine.
“I’m not sure what to say or where to start,” she admitted. “I’ve imagined this moment so many times, and now I feel like a complete idiot.”
Saint shifted back to his human form, the process taking longer than it normally would. She could actually see the changes happening in his skeletal structure as his body ripped itself apart and put itself back together again.
He looked even better than in her memories. A thick tangle of black curls framed his beautiful face. His dark eyes were large and expressive, fringed by the darkest lashes she’d ever seen. Mocha-colored skin just a few shades darker than her own was nearly flawless. His lips had a slight pout to them, even more so than usual because of his bad mood. She hadn’t seen that look of forced indifference on his face since the first months they’d spent together. Back when he’d hated her and trusted no one.
He took her breath away for an entirely different reason, and she blinked fast, refusing to let her eyes fill with tears. She’d cried enough for one day, and she was an emotional mess. If she started crying now, she wasn’t sure it would ever stop.
“Start with why you’re still with the hunters, Mistress,” he said. His voice wasn’t as smooth as she remembered. It cracked as he spoke, sounding gravelly. Mistress. It was a slap in the face, a reminder of who she was to him. What the hunters had intended for the remainder of his life.
“I’m not,” she denied. “I left them not long after you- we...”
The corners of his mouth dipped down in a frown. “That was a long time ago. Years. If what you said is true, what are you doing with them now?” he persisted.
“So far, I’ve been unsuccessfully running away from them,” she answered. He raised an eyebrow and waited for further explanation. “Some commander wants me to work for them again, and I’ve refused. You know how they are. They don’t easily take no for an answer.”
“How long have you been running?”
“I’ve lost track of the time.” She looked up at Frost, but he didn’t give her an answer. “I think nearly five weeks by their estimation.”
Saint’s eyes landed on Frost, and an icy cold look came over his face. Elsie stuttered in an effort to explain his presence as quickly as possible. “H-h-he belongs to my mother. The hunters thought binding our lives to each other would force me to accept their offer. Because he’s scary.”
His head tilted as he listened. It was his biggest strength, that willingness to listen to the other side before making a decision. It was the only reason he hadn’t killed her the day they’d met. The day the hunters had made her his owner.
“You left them back then. Does that mean your mother came for you? Is that what happened that first year? I thought you were dead, Mistress.”
Elsie looked at her hands then touched the markings on her neck that no longer sealed her ethereal magic. “Yes, that’s what happened. She took me to a dimension called Molta for training.”
“You’re a reaper now.” It was a statement, not a question, but she answered anyway.
“Yes.”
“When you returned… did you feel it?” His eyes were so vulnerable she hated the words she had to speak next, but he’d know if she tried to lie.
“Yes.” Of course she’d felt the bond begging her to return to him. The painful little lump in her chest, forever reminding her of what she was missing. What she wanted most.
“You rejected me, but the bond never fully broke. Neither of us let go, Mistress. But you never came for me.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
Elsie chewed the inside of her lip. The pain in his voice tore at her heart, making it difficult to think properly. “At that point it had been a year for you.” She paused, and he looked at her with reservation in his eyes.
“How many years was it for you?”
“Six.”
Saint cursed and stood, his hands held behind his back so he wouldn’t hit anything. A habit he clearly hadn’t changed. He paced for a while, and Elsie let him without interrupting.
“It’s been nine years for you?” he finally asked, his voice pained. She nodded, knowing it had only been four for him. “Why didn’t you come to me when you returned? At least for an explanation? Why did you never at least try and give me the gift of closure? Was I not important enough to you?”
“That’s not what it was at all! With the dramatic difference in our time frames, we would have been in different stages of grief, and it wouldn’t have been fair to either of us. I was so hurt, and ashamed, and terrified of seeing you again,” she told him, touching the center of her chest where the remnants of their bond clung. “Even after six years, I missed you so much, Saint. It still hurts, every single day.”
The muscles of his jaw worked as his teeth clenched together. “You were hurt,” he said quietly.
“Pushing you away was the worst mistake I have made in my entire life, and I’ve regretted it every day since. Do you have any idea what they would have done to you if you’d stayed after our bond formed? It was hard enough hiding my feelings for you before the bond. We couldn’t have hidden how much closer it would have made us! They’d have forced me to kill you and then killed me themselves. Or the reverse.” Elsie was shaking with the memory of how terrified she’d been that day.
“Don’t act like you were trying to protect me, Mistress. You were trying to protect your precious reputation. We could have run together. You being what you were, they never would have found us,” he bit out.
“You don’t even believe yourself with those words. I didn’t give a fuck about my reputation with the hunters by then, and you damned well know it. I couldn’t watch you die, Saint. Our talents would never have been enough. I was hidden over a thousand miles away, but when they decided they wanted me, they found me.”
“You could have come for me when your mother returned!” he yelled, and Elsie flinched. “You could have come for me when you came back from that other dimension. You could have come at any time, yet you chose not to.”
“You’re right. I was a coward. After rejecting you, I couldn’t face the idea that maybe you wouldn’t
want me anymore. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it.” Silent tears dripped down her cheeks despite her earlier refusal to cry. The truth was so much worse than just being a coward.
“You’ve clearly been able to move on,” he growled. Elsie shook her head in denial.
“I haven’t! Not even for a second!”
“Then explain the other one?” he questioned, nodding his head in the direction Wren had disappeared. “The woman who claims you as her own?”
“I don’t have an explanation. I’m not sure why we’ve gotten so close so quickly. It’s not like she can be my mate; the magic doesn’t work that way,” Elsie admitted. Mating bonds were the ancient magic’s way of assuring the continuation of magical populations. Same sex pairings simply didn’t happen. “We met a few days ago.”
“You met a few days ago,” he echoed.
“She’s helped me through some of the worst days of my life,” she explained. Saint looked at her sharply. The worst days of his life had immediately followed the moment she’d sent him away.
“Why are these the worst days of your life?”
Elsie let out a bitter laugh and held up the cuff tying her to Frost. “I meant physically, not emotionally. The hunters had a failsafe in case this guy wasn’t scary enough to make me grant their request. It was smart on their part, since Frost and I decided to work together. They cursed me, and we came here trying to find Riven.”
Saint frowned. He’d seen the mage a few times over the past couple of years, but he’d never attempted to connect with her. They’d never been friends back then. Truth be told, he’d never made friends with anyone on Elsie’s squad. Most of them had hated him, and they blamed him for fracturing the trust between themselves and their leader.
“You had to have felt how close I was. Why didn’t you come to me for help?” he demanded. Elsie rolled her head forward and stared into his eyes before giving him a lopsided smile.
“After everything? All the years apart? The shame and the fear and the guilt? I didn’t want to bring my problems to you. How could I show up and throw everything in your lap?”
“I’d have let you,” he said bitterly.
“You’d have let me, and then in no time at all you’d have resented me,” Elsie sighed. “How could I show up at your door only to disappear days later? I couldn’t hurt you like that again, but you decided to come to me. Now how am I supposed to protect you? I’m dying, Saint.”
He paled, his eyes darting to the wound in her ribs, and she shook her head.
“This is nothing. Callum fucking stabbed me while we were in the mage village,” she grunted, and Saint’s face clouded over. Callum’s was one of the scents he’d recognized earlier.
“Why is it always that asshole?” Saint growled.
“It won’t be him anymore. He’s dead now.” Elsie nodded in the direction Wren had gone appreciatively.
“Explain,” Saint demanded, his voice lowered dangerously.
“The curse attacks my organs, one at a time, killing them over and over again.” She held up the vial of elixir and went on to explain the rest, including the exchange the hunters had proposed. As she spoke, fear replaced the anger on Saint’s face. “At this point, it’s looking more and more like my only option is to die. I refuse to work for those bastards.”
“You have to,” Saint said.
“Excuse me?”
“At least until another option presents itself.”
“What other option could possibly exist? If I turn myself in to become their pet reaper, they’ll guard the elixir with their lives. Or their underlings’ lives.”
“So you’re giving up?”
“Yeah, I guess so. I’m sorry. I’m just fucking tired, Saint.”
The longer they spoke, the harder she fought against the sleep that wanted to drag her under. There wasn’t enough left in her to keep fighting the curse, and she damn sure wasn’t about to give in to what the hunters wanted, no matter who wanted her to choose otherwise. Maybe she could convince Frost to kill her quickly, then she wouldn’t have to slowly succumb to another organ death.
“I won’t let you give up.”
“I don’t really see where it’s your choice.” She knew she sounded heartless, but she was out of hope. “Even though you’re angry with me, I’m happy I got to see you again.”
“Cut the bullshit,” Saint growled. “You have some of the elixir in your damned hand. It can be reverse engineered.”
“By whom? The curse was cast by Perrie. Have you ever known her to create a spell that failed? The only mage I’ve ever been friendly with not only refused to help, but handed us over to Callum without a second thought. The odds aren’t looking good.”
“Don’t listen to her.” Wren’s commanding voice came. She tossed an armful of leaves to the ground. “My reaper has had a fever all day. Her words are delirious and not to be trusted. Reaper, open the pocket dimension.”
Elsie scowled at her but obediently did as she was told. Wren reached in and took out her canteen, recently refilled with fresh water. The spirit began building a fire to boil down the tincture, and while the pan heated, she crushed some of the leaves into a paste.
Saint continued his pacing, having gone completely silent. Elsie was surprised by the sudden lack of conversation until she realized that unless he’d grown out of it in the past four years, he wouldn’t speak in front of Wren. He wasn’t much of a talker in the first place, but he’d always refused to speak to anyone but her. He’d never given an explanation for the behavior, but she’d never asked for one, assuming it had to do with his treatment by the hunters before he’d been given to her.
They’d tortured him until he’d broken. At least, until they thought he’d broken. Saint was tougher than they’d imagined. He hadn’t come out of their ‘training’ unscathed, but he was a hell of a lot better put together than they’d imagined.
“Have you sorted everything out? Is this one leaving?” Wren asked, crouching in front of Elsie. She shook her head.
“I don’t want him to leave.”
Saint stopped pacing when he heard that, turning to catch her eye. The spirit sighed in irritation but said nothing negative.
“Very well.”
“Don’t be mad at me,” Elsie pleaded, and Wren shook her head with a light smile.
“I am not angry. I am… frustrated.” She unwrapped the bandage and removed the moss once again. “We won’t mess with it after this until the bandages need to be changed. This is arnica. It will help you heal, ease the pain, and stop the swelling.”
She gently smoothed it over Elsie’s wound before covering it with the moss and wrapping it once more. Afterward, she turned and attended the fire and tincture diligently. Saint took the opportunity to nervously approach her, glancing at the spirit before crouching just a foot away.
“Mistress,” he murmured, so quietly that the word was only meant for her ears.
“Stop calling me that, Saint.”
His face softened. “It’s who you are.”
“I set you free.”
“I’ve never stopped belonging to you.”
“If you’re talking like this out of pity, just stop now. It’s not fair to either of us. You shouldn’t do this to yourself. You deserve better than this,” she scolded gently.
“If your life is on a timer nearing its end, I’ll be here for every second remaining,” he vowed. Elsie sighed and shook her head. He’d always been loyal to a fault. He never knew when to draw boundary lines to protect himself from getting hurt. Her beautiful demon. Still far too good for her. Too bad for him, she hadn’t changed much either. Even when she’d been falling hopelessly in love with him, long before their bond had formed, she’d been too selfish to send him away until it was too late.
“You’ll resent me,” she cautioned.
“If you try one more time to convince me to leave, I will use a silencing spell on you,” he threatened. One of his specialties, he’d used it often on anyone that annoyed
him, including Elsie. Later on, he’d mostly used it on those who annoyed her.
“How can you forgive me after everything that’s happened?” she asked, only able to keep her eyes half open.
“Mistress, who said I’ve forgiven you?”
Elsie grimaced, and her eyes opened wide. She’d deserved a response like that. “Good. You really shouldn’t.”
“Do you want me to stay, or not?” he asked directly. Elsie’s eyes lifted to his in surprise. She wasn’t sure if it was more because of the directness of his question or that he hadn’t yet figured out the answer himself. Was she not making herself open enough?
“I do. Please, don’t leave.”
Saint let out a relieved sigh. The question had fallen out of his mouth before he’d even framed it in his mind. Talk about speaking with abandon. It could have gone so very, very wrong had she chosen otherwise. He nodded his head as though she’d said exactly what he’d been expecting to hear.
“I have no intention of letting you off the hook so easily. You’ll have to earn my forgiveness. And to start, that means you have to let me help you. I know someone who might be able to help, an old brujo named Julio. He’s somewhat of a genius.”
“A brujo? But that was my idea,” she stated, then her shoulders shook with silent laughter. “I wanted to go find a brujo if things didn’t work out with Riven, but I was overruled.”
“It won’t be easy. He’s in the South. The deep South. Like, I’ll have to cross the vampire lands to get to him. If anyone can do this, he can,” Saint said, completely confident in his friend.
“How do you even know a brujo?” she questioned, a frown on her face.
“I did have a life before meeting you, you know?”
Elsie sniffed at that, and he gave a grim smile. Hesitantly, he reached out and touched the back of her hand. She watched his fingers trail down closer to hers, letting him tangle their fingers together.
