by Jen Ponce
I pictured the top, imagined myself with a grip on the edge. It worked—but I'd forgotten how slippery it could be. Sweat slicked up my fingers. I scrabbled for a grip but the lodestones in my pocket yanked me back and slammed me to the ground.
I lay there, unmoving, until Arsinua asked if I were okay.
"Yes, damn it." I pushed myself up, groaning, then dusted off my pants and shirt.
Maybe we should give up.
"Nope." I pictured the door.
I don't want you to get hurt.
"Shut up," I said, not unkindly. I had to concentrate, to find the thing I could hang onto for dear life. I remembered the pull-up bar in the basement. Bolted to the ceiling with five-inch safety bolts. It wouldn't give way and if I wrapped my legs around it, I was sure I could hold on.
I lay back down on the ground, this time with my legs aimed toward the hook. I opened it again, imagining hard in my mind the pull-up bar, the shadowy corner it hung in, the weight bench to one side, and the dumbbells on the other. I wrapped my legs tight around that bar, hooking my feet against the ceiling joist. Slipped my hands in and then, after a deep breath, Pulled.
For a moment I was certain I would let go or that my legs would break. It felt like a fifty-ton truck hung on me. My hands gave way. I shrieked, slamming the door as hard as I could picture it slam. For a moment a horrible wind rushed through as if the devil himself were rushing out of hell then the hook closed and my upper body flopped down, still hanging by my shaking legs.
Lodestones rained down on the floor like hail.
"I did it." My muscles shook. I wasn't sure I could get up high enough to grip the bar to lower myself down but somehow I found the strength. I dropped down with an ungraceful thud, twisting my ankle underneath me. "Ow. Ow. Shit." I sat on the bench and stared at the grey lumps littering the floor. All that for some rocks. "They damn well better work."
Arsinua didn't say a word. I guessed she was too stunned that we'd done it to be able to speak.
I glanced down at my watch and winced. It was already two thirty. An hour in Midia, sure, but on earth the day had blasted by without me. I made myself gather up the stones and stagger upstairs to the shower. I stank and my muscles demanded hot water.
I was toweling off when I heard the front door slam shut. I dressed quickly and jogged downstairs. "Hey Bethy. Set the alarm?"
She looked at me as if I were screwy. "We never set the alarm."
"We should. That's what it's for. Do you remember how?" Of course she didn't, she'd never used it in the four years since we had it installed. I made her repeat the steps until she had it down pat, and then repeated the process with Liam.
Tom called to say he'd be late. I didn't ask why and he didn't offer any explanation, which pissed me off. Irrational? Maybe. But we were still married. Still had kids together. We deserved more from him.
Dinner was grilled cheese and green beans, with creative smoothies from the berries in the freezer and the chocolate chips in the pantry. As I blended, I asked Arsinua how I would use the stones to keep the kids safe but couldn't raise her. Had she been harmed when I'd forced us through the hook? I shoved my concern for her to back of my mind when Bethany plopped her science book on the counter and Liam began pelting me with math questions, most of which I had to Google to find the answer. They were finishing their work when the phone rang.
I picked it up.
"I was looking into my scrying glass last night," an airy voice started and I sighed.
"Hi Ann. Did Tom call you?"
"Tom who? It's like I'm watching a horror movie. Dark shadows. Cones of power. What's going on?"
For the longest time I'd pooh-poohed Ann and her magic mumbo jumbo. Harmless enough but silly. What grown up believed that prancing around a circle waving a stick could change anything in the real world? Yet now I was traveling between dimensions, holding court to an assassin spider and a witch—a real, honest to goodness witch—and I couldn't dismiss her anymore. She'd been right, if born on the wrong side of the universe.
"It's a complicated thing, Ann." The kids were arguing over the last half of a sandwich, so I slipped into the laundry room where they wouldn't overhear me. "Did you see in your scrying mirror that Tom and I are," I stopped, sick of saying the words. I forced them out. "getting a divorce?"
"Oh. Oh, Devy. I'm so sorry." The compassion in her voice made me break down and cry.
She murmured soothing words while I blubbered, not offering anything more than her support. I appreciated that. So many times people tried to give you advice. The last thing you wanted to hear when your heart was breaking was advice on how to fix what was wrong.
Some things weren't fixable.
When my waterworks dried up, she said, "I'm coming down."
"No, no. You don't need to. Not now. Maybe it a few months. I might need you then. To help me with the kids once Tom and I are separated. But don't come yet. Okay?"
"Okay. I'll say a prayer for you."
"Thanks, Ann. Love you."
"Love you too. Blessed be."
We hung up and I stuffed clothes in the washer to make my presence in the laundry room legitimate before sneaking upstairs to wash my face. It wouldn't fool either kid if they got a close look at me, so I decided to declare a movie night, which would mean dimmed lights and lots of popcorn.
As I was leaving the bedroom, a figure stepped out of the shadows. I jumped a foot but didn't shriek. It was the dark angel, looking as beautiful and as sorrowful as the last time I'd seen her. "Oh boy. What does he want now?"
She didn't smile, but her lips twitched. "He asked me to find out what the energy flux was today. It caused a stir among the Skriven."
"Oh? Huh." Was nothing I did private anymore? Honestly. "I picked up some magic rocks in Midia. To protect my family."
Her flawless brow furrowed slightly. "Protection? From whom?"
Okay, maybe some things weren't known by all. "A group of witches that might want me dead. For helping stop the human trafficking law from being passed."
She tipped her head to one side, her silky black hair a shimmery curtain. "Tytan will protect you."
"For a price, yeah. I'm not willing to be indebted to him, thanks." I stared at her. "What's your name, anyway? How'd you get involved with Tytan? Are you … are you Skriven too?"
Immobile and expressionless, she reminded me of a robot. It was only when she spoke that she had any animation in her face. "I have no name. Tytan made me."
She is a formless one. The Skriven make them out of the blood of murder victims.
'Now you show up," I muttered, my mind focused on the dark angel, how she'd vowed to protect my kids. I aimed my question at her. "Why did you lie to me about having children?"
"Part of me did not."
Holy shit. Anger spiked inside me at Tytan. Leave it to him to create such a horrible creature—a tormented creature at that. "You have to have a name."
"Do I?" Genuine curiosity colored her words.
"Well, yeah."
"Why?"
That stumped me. Why did people need names? To avoid a bunch of hey you, no not you, you exchanges, I supposed. "To give you an identity."
"But I am made from many."
"I don't care. You need a name." Damn you, Tytan. If I hadn't thought you were an ass before, I did now.
Don't. Don't mess with Tytan's minion. I beg you.
'Hell yeah I'm going to mess. This is abominable. Cruel. Chauvinistic, too, damn it. She deserves a fucking name.' I stared at the dark angel, who gazed back, expressionless now.
"What shall you call me, then?"
I shook my head. "No. Not me. You. What do you want to call yourself?"
Her eyes were grey, like a rainy day sky. "I cannot."
A formless one cannot name itself. It would be breaking Skriven law. She'd essentially be unmaking herself with the act. Leave it be.
"Fine." I stepped back, pissed and upset. Then I stopped. Uh huh. No way was I going to walk away
from this. I worked at a women's shelter, for heaven's sake. My job was to empower women. And even if that woman was from a demon dimension, she deserved the same assistance as an earthbound woman. "Lucy."
She stared.
I stared back, floundering. Didn’t she like it? Had I succeeded in killing her by saying it aloud? "Uh, you know. Well, maybe you don't. An actress named Lucy Lawless played a tough, kick ass woman named Xena, warrior princess. So, Lucy."
She still stared. Oh fuck. I did kill her. She was probably unraveling from the inside out. I reached out but my hand froze halfway to its trip to her because her lips twitched again and this time they moved up into a smile. It wasn't a beaming smile, it barely passed a smirk but it was there. It was real.
"Thank you."
"You’re welcome."
She nodded once, and then she vanished. No poof, no whoosh of air, nothing. "Did I kill her? Is she dead?"
No. But be expecting a visit from Tytan.
Her disapproval rocked me to my toes. "I had to."
You don't listen. You're like a child, always doing things first and thinking about them later.
"Hey now—wait a minute. That sounds like a line from the movie we watched the other night."
Arsinua didn't say anything. Her embarrassment at being caught spouting someone else's words of wisdom filled me. I chuckled. "I'm not either like a child. I'm merely an innocent bystander thrust into a situation for which she has no frame of reference, no rule book, no way of knowing what's right or wrong. It has nothing to do with willful ignorance and everything to do with being in the wrong place at the wrong time."
I don't believe in coincidence. Why ever you were in the hook at that moment, why ever you chose the glow stone to stop the assassin, why ever you survived the blast with me, the heart, and the assassin inside you, rest assured it was for a reason.
"I don't believe in that kind of thing. I don't believe in fate."
That's all right. Fate does not need belief. It is as inevitable as the tides.
I grunted. I believed in choices. I didn't, couldn't believe that everything was mapped out, that my actions were preordained. What would be the reason for it and, by extension, the purpose of being a thinking being? Too heavy a subject for a fall afternoon, I decided. I didn't get out the door, though, before Tytan appeared, looking pissed.
I smiled in return. "Yes I did. Get over it."
For once, he had nothing to say.
I inched around him and tried to slip out the door but his hand on my arm stopped me. I gave him a look.
"I can protect you."
I put my hand on my hip. "For a price." He smiled that lazy smile of his and a slow, smoky heat crawled through my body. I shook off his hand. "Stop that."
"I would enjoy having you in my bed," he said, reaching out to trail one long finger over my collarbone, the lust he injected into me making my hips bump ever so ladylike toward him.
I knocked his finger away. "Not ever happening." I looked around him to the hallway, hoping the kids wouldn't hear, hoping they wouldn't come looking for me for any reason. "Go away."
Instead, he reached into my pants pocket and pulled out a lodestone. "Amazing. You are quite a woman. No one has ever managed to bring one this large to your universe." He stepped closer and took his own sweet time putting it back. "So special and all mine."
"No, not all yours. I'm my own person, thanks. I might be working for you now, but I don't like it and I don't like you. Trust me, I'll figure a way out of it." I put a hand on his chest and tried to push him. "Now go away."
"Don't fuck with me, Devany. Your little show of independence was amusing." He planted his hand on my chest and slammed me against the doorjamb. "But you crossed the line and I have to exact punishment."
Oh shit. "Take it from me then. Don't touch my kids."
He grinned. "Don't worry. Your kids are safe. For now." And then he vanished, but I still heard his voice, a wisp in the air as he said, "Your husband, on the other hand … "
My cell phone rang. I looked at the number on the caller ID. County General Hospital. My knees wobbled. "What have you done?"
FIFTEEN
Tom was bruised and sore but breathing. The kids and I rushed down to the hospital to find the doctor putting the last stitch in his hand. As we hovered, my heart pounding hard in my chest, the doctor said he could go home. That he'd be sore for a couple of days but that he was a lucky man.
He'd been pulling out of the garage at work when one of the city buses had lost control of its brakes and plowed into him, shoving his Miata into a pick-up and squashing it like a pop can. "I was lucky, Dev. So lucky. The paramedics said they couldn't believe I was alive, let alone able to stand when they cut me out."
Bethany and Liam both hugged him, crying, the stress of the last few days overwhelming them. I must confess I teared up too, but mostly I was angry. Rage filled me that Tytan could do what he pleased whenever he wanted. Why the hell had he needed the heart? He could mess with this world even if he wasn't able to stay corporeal in it.
I wanted to kill him, pondered ways to do that, how to do that. Tom interrupted my revenge fantasies when he spoke.
"Strange, right before the crash I saw this woman, an angel. She stepped between the bus and me. Saved my life, I know it. I asked about her at the scene, but nobody saw any woman." He shook his head, then looked at me, his face youthful in his hope. "You and the kids were what I held onto. I prayed I would survive to make things right."
Shit. I didn't want him to do that. I didn't want him thinking he could make things right. I wanted him to grovel, to accept his fate and to work hard not to make my life any more miserable than it already was. Was that so much to ask? And the woman he'd seen. Had that been Lucy? Sent by Tytan to save him? Or hurt him in the first place?
"Daddy, I was so scared you were dead," Bethany wailed, her face pale.
"I'm fine, sweetheart. I'm okay. It will be okay." He was hugging her close, wincing when she accidentally bumped his sore ribs. Liam had done his emotional bit and was now staring into the tall locked cabinet full of medical supplies. Tom carefully slipped off the table, paper crackling as he rose.
We drove my car home. In the silence, it occurred to me Tom no longer had the stupid Miata that had been the impetus for his affair. Had Tytan done that on purpose? He wanted to send me a warning, but had he also tried—in his oh-so-twisted way—to give me a gift as well?
Don't read kindness into anything the Skriven does. He works only for his self-gain and self-gratification. Nothing else.
I grunted, uncomfortably aware of Tom, who hadn't stopped gazing over at me since getting in the car. To Arsinua, I said, 'We need to get those lodestones working in our favor.' I gnawed on my lower lip then asked, 'Would they work to keep out Tytan?'
No. You are his Archaeon Tezrya. Your bond allows him the right to contact you whenever he wishes.
Oh boy. 'I need to find a way to get out of this bond. I don't want to work with him anymore.'
You'll have to kill him, then.
Right. As if I had a chance in hell—or should I say Slip—to do that. I'd have to find a loophole. 'Who is Cyres?'
I don't know.
'Nex said I could help Tytan find her. Whoever she is.' I pulled up to the house. Tytan sat on the edge of the rooftop and I cursed, loudly. He vanished as soon as the words left my lips.
"Devany!" At least my language had knocked the loopy, hangdog look off Tom's face.
"All right Mom," Liam said as Bethany giggled.
"Sorry." I refused to look again. Damn him. "Just thought of something I need to do at work tomorrow."
"Must be important for you to use that kind of language," Tom muttered.
Yeah, Mr. Perfect. Criticize me about cussing. It's totally in the same league as cheating. I slammed the car door, taking the ribbing from Liam and Bethany with as much grace as I could muster. It was already late, the ER time having eaten up our evening, so I cajoled the kids to bed.
They wanted to stay up and talk about Tom's accident but I convinced them school would come sooner than they liked and they finally agreed to settle down for the night.
Tom slumped on the bed in our room. I cursed again—under my breath this time—realizing I hadn't had the chance to move Tom out yet. He didn't want to move out, or at least his lawyer didn't want him to, but neither did I want to continue to share a bed with him. He'd start pushing for more intimacy, reading into my presence in the bed as forgiveness. I wasn't planning to forgive him any time soon.
If ever.
I locked myself in the bathroom, checked for errant demons, then stripped and showered. I'd managed to get the lodestones but hadn't had any time to charge them to create another layer of protection around my family. I'd managed to piss off a demon and name a formless one, although I still had no clue what the hell that had done except make an incredibly sad looking woman smile.
I brushed my teeth, braided my hair and reluctantly left the bathroom. Tom was in bed looking pitiful and in pain. Maybe he was in pain, but I wasn't in a generous mood. I slipped into bed, presenting my back to him.
"Devany?"
I managed to keep my impatient exhale of air quiet. "What?" I rolled to my back, turning my head toward him.
"I had a brush with death today."
The bed jounced as he turned toward me. His brow would be furrowed, the wrinkles deepened by the look of concentration on his face. I knew his face so well. Too bad his heart wasn't as easy to read.
"It made me realize how selfish I've been. To you. Even before ... the thing with her. I wasn't putting enough of myself into our marriage. But my accident made me realize how much I love you. Truly, deeply love you."
I don't care. I don't care, I told myself again. I don't. Sure he loved me now. It took almost dying to figure that out? Why couldn't he have loved me enough before that? It was like saying, 'I love you because you gave me diamonds today. Yesterday, when you gave me plain old rocks, I didn't love you. But now, those diamonds made me realize you're important to me.'
