Astral Tide (The Otherborn Series)

by Silver, Anna

  Elias tapped a fingernail against his front tooth and then pointed to the jacks, one of which had landed on top of the feather, while the other had landed half beneath the card he’d referred to in Zen’s reading. “You’re part of a necessary pair,” he began. “But you’re holding something back.”

  Kim shot Tora a pleading, I swear it’s not true, look but she only stared at Elias as though he were some kind of omnipotent god.

  Elias nodded knowingly. “Yes, yes. I see it so clear! You not only hide from love, but you’re hiding from yourself. Until you can play all your cards, you will only be half of what you are capable of being. And you may lose the love you have gained in the end, if you don’t let go.”

  London peered at Kim, who seemed more troubled than he wanted to let on by Elias’s words. She hated to admit it, but the man was beginning to sound a little like Hantu.

  “Give me your hand,” Elias commanded.

  “Huh?” Kim stared at him.

  “Give me your hand.”

  Kim began to raise a hand out from under the table when the Beekeeper stopped him. “No. The other one.”

  Kim offered the other hand to Elias and London saw that it was the one bearing his tattoo.

  Elias grasped it and with a yank, pulled it to rest next to three objects lying side by side like Kim’s trigram: the bone again, a long nail, and a bit of black string. “You see,” he said as though it should be perfectly clear. “The bars are holding you back.”

  Kim tugged his hand away and got up hurriedly. Apparently, he decided he’d had enough time in the hot seat. “Yeah, yeah, bars,” he said patting London’s shoulder. “Tag, you’re it.”

  London started to say something but Elias interrupted her. “No, I will read the other girl first. The one with the thrice-blessed eyes.”

  Tora stuck a thumb at her chest. “Me?”

  Elias nodded and quickly gathered his supplies once more. Tora gave London an apologetic look as she passed her to take a seat.

  This time though, only London and Tora watched the old guy shake himself into a trance. Kim had joined Zen in a chair across the room near the empty fireplace. Both boys sat with their arms stiffly folded across their chests.

  When Elias let the scrap fly for Tora, several bits landed on the floor instead of the table. London made a note to pick them up when the reading was over. But Elias didn’t seem bothered; he only had eyes for the pattern of junk unfolding before him on the dusty purple cloth.

  “Hmmm…” he mused as he let his fingers trace over the intricate array. He stopped on a coin that rested dead center in the table. “You’ve met with good fortune in this life. Not by chance…not by chance. No. But you’ve made a heavy sacrifice as well,” he said as he slid his finger over to the nearby wing nut.

  Tora sat perfectly composed. She nodded slightly, taking it all in.

  Elias grinned at her. “Your flexibility makes you stronger than most,” he commented as his eyes passed over a rubber band settled near her. “But you must remember, it’s all for a purpose.” He noted with a glance at the marble which had miraculously not ended up on the floor, but landed inside the rubber band.

  Tora’s deep green eyes met the Beekeeper’s cold, black ones. His pupils were indiscernible in the too-dark irises. But he seemed to focus a warmth on her he didn’t quite have for the boys. “You see! Ah, yes, you see it all. How grand. How grand!” he rambled, tearing a red knotted string from his wrist and handing it to her.

  London hadn’t noticed, until now, that he wore the knotted bracelets as Keziah did.

  Tora took it with gratitude and slipped it on. She smiled kindly at Elias and London felt guilty for all her accusatory thoughts of quackery.

  Elias patted Tora’s hand. “Red. Red! A strong color. A protective color. Three knots for three blessings. Eyes that see the past, eyes that discern the present, and eyes that read the future.”

  “Thank you,” Tora said as she got up.

  But Elias’s mood turned suddenly sour. “Don’t take it off!” he warned. “Don’t take it off when they come for you.”

  Tora nodded and walked away, leaving London standing at Elias’s side alone.

  “Are we all good here?” London asked, squatting to pick up some of his dropped scrap. “Can we light a damn fire now that you’ve gotten that out of your system?”

  She passed the items to him, holding one arm across her chest to emphasize that she was cold, but her sleeve caught on her fingers and Elias seized her arm with such force that she dropped most of the little pieces she’d retrieved for him.

  “Hey!” London snarled, trying to pull her hand back. Behind her, she heard Zen and Kim’s chairs scrape the floor as they jumped up to help her.

  Elias only stared at her scarred arm and winced. At last, he let go and gestured to the seat across from him.

  “No thanks,” London frowned. “I’m good.”

  But Elias wouldn’t take no for an answer. He jerked his head at the seat and said, “The Oracle has much to say to you. Be still.”

  London took her seat cautiously as Elias began shaking his thermos, repeating over and over, “Don’t you know? I’ve saved the best for last…the best for last…for last.”

  Chapter 12

  * * *

  Riddles

  London squirmed in her seat as Elias hammered the thermos against the table, his eyes shifting under flickering lids until they disappeared altogether. Kim, Zen, and Tora hovered nearby. London would have preferred some privacy. She didn’t like being exposed, but she couldn’t very well ask them to leave when she’d been front and center for each of their readings.

  The old man groaned and seized, his head dipped forward and his hands tightened on the thermos. Then, with a twist and a flourish, he ripped off the lid and let the items spill across the table toward London. She watched, transfixed, as the bits of scrap rolled toward her, covering the odd markings and chalk circle. She sensed too that nearby the others were holding their breath as they watched the pattern make itself known.

  London’s eyes rested squarely on the feather which seemed central to the spread around it, though it lay a tad closer to her than the center of the table. From there she noted three items that could have formed a triangle to the feather. The bottle cap lay at the point between her and the feather. Behind it, the bone stretched toward the feather, creating another point. And right of that, the key.

  London rubbed at her eyes. She was no Elias, but she swore she could almost read the significance in the pattern, even if she couldn’t say what it all meant.

  Elias suddenly slumped forward and shook his head as though warding off the trance. He zeroed in on the four pieces London had noticed, his nose only inches from the table’s surface, and then he peered up at her. “Well, well…” His Cheshire grin split his face in a way that made London uneasy.

  “What?” she asked. “Is it bad? How bad is it? Just get it over with, like ripping off a band-aid.”

  But Elias only let loose a slow laugh. “Tsk, tsk,” he said at last. “So much fear! No wonder…”

  Now London rolled her eyes. She should have known he wouldn’t make this easy on her.

  Elias squinted at the feather. “You’re in this world, but not of it.”

  London shifted in her chair. Two points for the loony scrap reader.

  Elias moved a finger with a yellowing, split nail toward the key. “That’s the key.”

  “What is?” London asked.

  “You are.”

  London blinked. Riddles again.

  He then drew his finger from the key to the bone, drawing out the triangle she’d noticed herself. “Like the boy, death shadows you. But in the end, the choice is yours.”

  London hastened a look at Zen. He was transfixed by her reading. It almost made her feel naked in front of him.

  Elias too looked up at Zen. “Your destinies are linked.”

  Zen shuddered and looked to London, fear and desire intermingled in his eye
s.

  London watched Elias move his finger toward the bottle cap.

  “When the pressure builds, the top blows off,” he said with a wry smile. “Heaven help anyone standing in the way.”

  London leaned back in her chair. So that was it? A lot of good that did. But then Elias began to move his finger back again, tracing the line from the bottle cap to the bone.

  “Those who die twice, live forever,” he said softly and his eyes met London’s once more.

  London shivered.

  Slowly, his finger moved back toward the key. “It takes one to know one. You are the key…to finding the key.”

  London held her breath. What was he talking about?

  His chipped nail grazed the fabric as it reached the bottle cap. “Your greatest weapon is your shield.”

  Elias paused, then moved on toward the feather in the center. “The answers you seek cannot be found in this world. Follow the way to the center and find the one who birthed you in the Other.”

  London froze. Nothing he was saying made sense and yet everything made perfect sense. She didn’t understand what he was telling her but she knew it was important for her to. Her eyes met Elias’s across the table and she felt suspended in his gaze, like those frozen drips of wax as they hardened on the candlestick.

  “That’s enough,” Zen said bringing a fist down on the table. Scrap bounced up and fell down again in a cacophony of tinkling noises.

  Elias began to hastily scoop up his treasures before Zen could send them scattering. He glared at Zen out of the corner of his eye and whispered with a hiss, “half truths…beware the holes…”

  Zen rolled his eyes and grabbed London’s elbow. “Come on,” he insisted. “That’s enough hocus pocus for one day.”

  London knew he was just scared. Scared for her and scared for himself. So she got up and followed him to a chair across the room. Almost absentmindedly, she began to thumb through a nearby book, but even though she could count on one hand the number of times she’d held an actual book, she couldn’t stop thinking about Elias’s words long enough to pay attention to the type on the page.

  “WHAT DO YOU think he meant?” Zen whispered from his side of the pallet he and London were sharing. Though there was no outside light to confirm it, London guessed it was night when Elias blew out all the candles, restoring his room to the dark and cold he liked so much.

  They’d spent the whole afternoon there waiting for Ash to return for them, but he never did. They just huddled around the empty fireplace, talking in whispers and reading from the various books. Elias didn’t say much after the readings. Unlike them, he seemed prepared to play host. He would disappear into another room for a while, and then return with a stack of folded blankets or a tray of food.

  They’d had crusty bread and fresh honey with desert herbs and little glasses of goat’s milk. London loved the honey. It was a treat she was never afforded in Capital City, but the stringent herb flavors confounded her. Elias said the campers brought him regular deliveries of goat’s milk and cheese, loaves of bread, bundles of herbs and cactus pads, and the occasional fruits. But he didn’t comment on the honey. London was too afraid to ask. Elias unsettled her and yet brought out her unbridled curiosity at the same time. What was in those rooms he kept vanishing into? What was making that humming sound? Why, if the Outroaders didn’t want him living in their community, did they bring him supplies?

  London watched him intently throughout the day. All these questions and about a million more were buzzing through her brain like the steady hum that emanated from behind the walls. Once, when he’d come back into the room where they were, he’d looked at her as though he had something on his mind, something to say, but Zen was hovering protectively nearby and Elias just scooted off again, silent.

  Now, the day was gone, and with it, London’s chances of getting the answers she needed. Elias bid them good night about an hour ago and retired to one of his mysterious caves. London and Zen, and Tora and Kim, had partnered up on pallets in opposite corners. Hers was near the little table where the Beekeeper conducted his readings and London was gingerly fingering the bottle cap from his Oracle stash when Zen finally asked what they’d all been circling around that afternoon. She put it back with a sigh and lay down beside Zen. “About what?”

  Zen’s voice was soft but urgent in the dark. “I don’t know—all of it. Take your pick.”

  London tugged at her pouty bottom lip. She shrugged though she wasn’t sure Zen could see it in the darkness. To her, he was just a shadow leaning over her, a slight glint playing off the whites of his eyes and no more.

  “Did any of it make sense to you?” he asked.

  Yes. No. “A little,” she admitted.

  “Do you think he’s legit?” Zen said.

  Yes. “Maybe.” To London, the more pressing question was not whether Elias was legit, but whether he was truly human.

  “I don’t know. I think he’s a loose goose,” Zen told her.

  London laughed at his choice of words. “Well, he had you pegged.”

  She could feel Zen stiffen beside her. “Hardly. About what?”

  “I don’t know, secret-keeper. You tell me.”

  Zen huffed.

  London turned her head toward his. “Look, you can play your little games if it makes you feel better. But don’t insult me by asking me to play along. We both know you’re hiding something.”

  Zen’s breathing stilled for a moment. Then his voice came back so quiet and serious, she felt guilty for wounding him. “They’re not games, London. I would never play when it comes to you.”

  London swallowed the lump forming in her throat. Why did everything have to be so confusing? She wanted Zen to care about her as more than a friend. She knew that. She could feel the desire burning holes inside her heart like cigarettes. But she also wanted him to lay off. Every advance, every word and act of sincerity only terrified her more and heaped dung on the pile of guilt that was filling her. Even though Rye had betrayed her, she couldn’t bring herself to do the same.

  London felt the tickle and caress of Zen’s lips near her ear. She went rigid as he moved over her, millimeters from her face, his breath hot and sweet against her skin. His lips found hers in the darkness and there was an eagerness she hadn’t sensed before. At first, she tried to hold back, but the hunger in his kiss beckoned her and she found herself giving in. She found an eagerness of her own to match his and he responded with tender insistence, his hand moving softly across her belly under her shirt until it found her breast. Suddenly, the string of girls she’d been forced to lie to on account of Zen’s romantic appetite flashed before her face. And she knew with perfect clarity that she wanted much more than that from him. She didn’t want to be one of Zen’s girls—she wanted to be his only girl.

  The thought cleaved her heart in two.

  London pushed at Zen’s heavy shoulders, forcing him off of her. “I…I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “London—” Zen started, but she cut him off.

  “No. Don’t say anything. Let me talk for once.”

  Zen fell back on the pallet next to her with a frustrated thud. “Shoot.”

  “Everything is so damned complex. And I feel…I feel like I don’t know anything for certain anymore. I don’t know who anyone really is or where they really stand. I don’t even know myself these days,” she said, flexing the taut muscles in her arms and legs that made her, along with the relaxing hair and the sharpening bone structure in her face, some kind of London-Si’dah hybrid.

  “Lon—” Zen tried again with a sigh.

  Once more, she stopped him. “No. Let me finish. But here’s what I do know. I’ll never stop loving Rye. Ever. I can’t give you all of me. I can’t because part of me is already his and it always will be.”

  Zen shifted back onto his elbow so that he was towering over her again. But he didn’t interrupt.

  “Maybe what you had with Avery wasn’t the same. I don’t know. Maybe you have all t
he pieces of yourself to gift to someone. Maybe not. I think we’d both be kidding ourselves to say that you were entirely over her.”

  He opened his mouth to protest and London quickly put a finger to his lips to silence him. “No. I’m not done. I’ve been trying to tell myself that nothing was different between us, that my feelings for you haven’t changed. But that’s not true anymore and I know it.” As soon as she said it, London felt the alarming certainty of it and knew she had to go on. “I want you, Zen. Whatever is left of me that doesn’t have Rye stamped across it, it wants you bad. I’m not a hundred percent sure of what I’m feeling for you, but I know that I want to be a hell of a lot more than just your friend or your partner in crime.”

  She felt the shock roll through Zen. He wasn’t expecting this. He was probably expecting another we’re just friends speech. But London had a history of dealing in brutal honesty and she was tired of fighting what was growing between them. “But I— I won’t be another one of your conquests. Okay? Because that would break me. I can’t do a repeat of Rye. I can’t give myself away again to someone who’s going to sell me out. And right now, whatever I’m feeling, however badly I want to give in, I just don’t trust you enough yet. So, I’m not going to sleep with you.”

  Zen’s thumb traced little patterns on her cheek that made her quiver. “London,” he said softly into her ear, “don’t you know you’re so much more to me?”

  “No, I don’t,” she answered him. “But if you mean that, if you want to do this, it’s going to be on my terms.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he whispered and she could hear the smile in it.

  “Good. Because I don’t want to just sleep with you. I want to really be with you. And since we only have what Rye and Avery left to share with one another, then I think…I think it’s important that we’re totally honest with each other.”