by Miles, D. L.
“I won’t let her be used as a conduit!” she whispered loudly. “To be some Casters companion! She might live, but at what cost? She’d be used for…for…”
“I’m sorry,” Iscah hurried, “it was just…I thought…”
“I have to go,” Zia declared, and Win moved down the hall so her daughter wouldn’t see her as she rushed by. The door slammed shut, and Iscah was left alone in the kitchen. Win descended the stairs, and turned just as Iscah was picking up a fallen chair.
“Is it true?” she questioned the girl. “Would I be…would I live?”
Iscah’s pale eyes were rimmed with red, as if she had been crying all night. But slowly she nodded her head, almost seeming guilty. She said, “It is.”
“What do companions do?” Win came into the room, gently placing her fingertips on the table. “Do you think…”
“I know someone,” Iscah blurted, “that you could be their companion, and I swear they wouldn’t use you at all for magic. A-and they wouldn’t want much in return, just a promise.”
“A promise?” Win tucked a thin strand of hair behind her ear, this sounded too good to be true. And she couldn’t stop the betrayal she felt for Cash for not telling her this sooner. But then again…maybe he didn’t know, or he had easily accepted her death. He was going to live to twice her age anyway; he must have accepted her death a long time ago.
“Just…” Iscah breathed heavily, her fingers turning white as she gripped the chair, “you have to promise not to tell anyone whose companion you are. Okay?”
Win was beginning to get a dark feeling in her heart as she looked at the girl. She was seventeen, about to enter her last year of high school, but she still looked like the little girl with blonde braids that Zia had befriended. Win could remember her staying up to late during sleepovers, and sneaking out at fourteen to go to a party. It was hard to see her look so troubled; Iscah was like her own daughter.
“What’s wrong?” Win asked, knowing there was something Iscah was hiding.
“I can make you my companion,” the girl confessed, and Win couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her mouth. “Just don’t tell Zia! Or Cash!”
Win’s mouth was hanging open, she knew that. “Iscah…you’re…?”
“I’m a Caster,” she looked down, ashamed, “but I don’t do anything bad. I barely do anything at all, actually. And I know I should have said this before but…I just…”
“It’s alright,” Win came around the table and gave her a hug. She was hesitant at first, but she eventually gave one back. Win said, “You would do this for me? Even though Zia…”
“I would,” Iscah started to cry, “I would. I love you, you’re like my own mother, and I would do it even if Zia found out about me. Even if she hated me, and never—“
“Shush,” Win ordered, “she could never hate you.”
They stood in the kitchen for a few minutes, just holding each other. Win couldn’t believe this, the fact that Iscah was a Caster, or that she had a chance to survive. Soon, Iscah said, “I have to ask my dad how to do it properly. We can do it this afternoon, I guess, unless you need more time.”
Win released the girl, and considered if she should tell Cash or Zia about this. But she knew that it would take time for Zia to get used to the idea, and Cash would do anything for her, right? Win shook her head, and whispered, “This afternoon is fine.”
Because that meant that she would have a lifetime with her family. They wouldn’t have to watch her wither away to nothing, to die in a hospital. She would get to see her daughter go to college, and graduate college, and maybe even start a family someday. With Hayden, of course, not that strange Aeryn man.
“Thank you,” Win kissed the top of Iscah’s head. “I know this must have been hard.”
They exchanged another hug, and Iscah ran off to ask her father what to do.
Interesting, the woman thought from her private realm. She had planned on leaving to follow this Kehzia, but she was glad she stayed behind. When she had seen the woman at the top of the stairs, her curiosity got the better of her; as it usually did.
She had the sickness, this Win Noble. And that meant certain death for a human, unless a Caster stepped in. This other girl, Iscah was her name? She stepped in just in time.
But how Iscah had managed to conceal her power for so long, from so many Ventori, was beyond the woman’s imagination. She could see it from her other realm, that aura of strength. Many Casters weren’t capable of such power at that age, and yet she was already able to make herself a companion?
The woman brushed back her raven hair and left now that the little Caster was gone. Kehzia Noble kept interesting company, and maybe it was about time they made friends. Maybe.
Chapter 20:
Zia’s boots pounded the concrete, her blood rushing through her veins at the thought of some Caster making her mother a companion. She couldn’t help but imagine Achaicious running his magic through her, using her to kill people like he did Delmont. She shivered, even though it wasn’t cold out, and wondered where she was going.
She had left so suddenly, and now she was just wandering around New Havilan. Aeryn hadn’t contacted her yet, and the thought of him only brought up more issues.
From her research last night, she had come up with nothing on her brother, Aeryn, or Cindel. The only connection she had were love letters and a photograph, but it was enough. Not only that, she had already figured out that it was Achaicious that had ordered the killings, which were then executed by his assistant. His off-shore bank account was what managed to help him stay hidden, it seemed, along with his magic.
The cobalt dagger was heavy in her pocket, and she stopped on the concrete a moment to think about it. Had it belonged to Trenton’s father? Is that why the Realm Walker had picked it up? Zia imagined Trenton in her mind, and decided it was time to visit him; maybe she could find out more about her brother in the process.
It wasn’t that hard to discover where she could find Trenton. A quick call to the library and Mrs. Mayfield was telling her the directions. The hard part was deciding what she would say when Trenton’s mother opened the door. They both thought he had committed suicide, and Zia didn’t really have any connections other than the child. So she picked up a bouquet of flowers on the way there, hoping the small gift would get her inside the house.
Trenton lived in a home much like her own, and Zia pressed the doorbell, flowers held at chest level. Just as she began to bounce on her feet, she realized that she wasn’t dressed in typical mourning clothes; she was still in the same bright blue top as last night. At least I’m wearing jeans, she thought to herself.
An elderly man opened the door, which Zia wasn’t expecting. He asked, “Yes?”
“Hello,” Zia gave a solemn smile, “my name is Kehzia Noble, I just wanted to give my condolences about Trenton’s father.”
His already soft eyes looked even gentler, and he nodded slowly. He stepped back, and opened the door wider, “Come inside. I’m just watching Trent while his mother takes care of some…business.”
“Thank you,” Zia said, grateful that things were going so smoothly. She walked inside, and the man took the flowers from her.
“I’ll put these in some water,” he announced, “would you like some tea? Trenton is just in the living room reading. He told me a girl told him of the clans, was that you?”
“Yes, Mrs. Mayfield at the daycare asked me to. But I would love some tea,” Zia watched his eyes drift towards a nearby doorway, and she turned to see Trenton sitting in a large chair, nose in a book. “Do you mind if I talk to him?”
“He’s sensitive,” the man said, “please be careful what you say.”
“Of course.” He turned and walked into another room, and Zia entered the doorway to watch Trenton. He didn’t look much different than when she had last seen him, his legs still kicked against the chair happily, as he eagerly turned the pages of his book. But she could see he wasn’t smiling as much, and the very
aura of the room felt…broken. She stepped inside, and the boy looked up.
“Hey, kid,” she started, moving slowly towards him. When she made it to the chair, she knelt down and asked, “How ya doing?”
Trenton just stared at her, and his eyes fell back to his book. Zia sighed, knowing it was a pointless question to ask; his father had just died. And he probably thought his father killed himself, like he didn’t matter. Unsure of what to do, Zia tried, “What are you reading?”
The boy stopped just as he was about to turn a page and replied, “Book on Neith history.”
“Sounds interesting,” Zia smiled, happy that he had given her an answer, “what have you learned?”
“The Neith were proud,” Trenton said and he flipped the page over, “they brought everyone together. They didn’t keep them apart like my dad.”
Zia pursed her lips. She didn’t want to tell him that his father had been murdered, but how could she just let him think his father had abandoned him? She leaned back onto her heels, and thought about what to say next when she noticed some papers on the table.
“I’m sure your dad loved you a lot,” she said, eyeing the papers. They looked similar to the files found at Cindel’s condo, and it was hard for Zia to hold back going through them.
“Then why did he go away?” Trenton’s small hands laid flat against the pages of the book. Before Zia could even think of an answer the elderly man came in from the kitchen, two cups of steaming tea in his hands. Zia stood as he entered, and thanked him for the drink.
“Would you care to sit down?” he asked. They both sat on the couch opposite Trenton, and she rested the cup on her legs. “I don’t believe I introduced myself, I’m Carnel, Trenton’s grandfather.”
“You can call me Zia,” she said back, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” Carnel nodded his head again, and he didn’t seem too broken up over the death, but Zia could sense his sadness, it was there, just under the surface; the Neith were always good at concealing things.
“Do you mind if I ask what he did for a living?” Zia questioned casually. If he had been working with Cindel, then she was sure he had been killed for the same reason. And those papers on the table were looking so tempting.
“He worked at City Ark, down in the catacombs,” Carnel didn’t seem worried or confused by the question, “he worked on cold cases, I believe.” He chuckled. “It was always more of a hobby for him; he loved solving what other people couldn’t.”
Zia smiled. “I know the feeling. Was he working on anything before he passed away?” She didn’t want to say “killed himself” or “was killed”, but even passed away sounded wrong. Trenton turned a page in his book.
“I’m sorry,” Carnel shook his head, “I don’t know anything about what he works on. He did seem rather…distraught though, for the few days before…”
“I see,” Zia took a sip of tea, eyeing the child across from them. She didn’t like seeing kids so sad, so unable to deal with tragedy. Kids were supposed to be happy, and running around causing havoc; not quietly reading a book in a study.
“He did mention something about a Specter,” Carnel set his tea onto his lap, and looked up in thought. “I believe it was something about a Wraith? He always started mumbling when it came to his work.”
“Wraith?” Zia’s mind perked up at that, and it was all she needed. But just as she was about to leap off of the cushion, she watched Trenton. “Do you know if he was working with anyone? Did he have a partner?”
Carnel shook his head, and Trenton peeked up from his book. “No,” the man said, “he always worked alone, I think.”
“He was working with a lady,” Trenton almost whispered, “she was tall with pretty red hair. Her name was Cindy.”
“Trenton,” Carnel came in, “you never told me that.”
The boy shrugged, and Zia had heard enough. She said, “Excuse me, I have to get going. I’m so sorry, again.”
In seconds she was already out the door, but she gave one last look to Trenton. She wondered how the family would feel when they realized that the man they had lived with hadn’t killed himself, but was actually murdered.
Zia came out of the house, and Aeryn was already waiting for her on the corner of the street. He watched as her boots thumped away, each step taking her closer to him. She only looked up just as she was about to run into him.
“Morning,” he said to her. She looked surprised to see him, and he grinned.
“Where did you come from?” she questioned, looking up and down the street for Cindy. He wondered if she had figured out he named the horse after Cindel.
“I’ve been watching you,” Aeryn shrugged casually, “so what did we learn?”
“That Trenton’s father was involved with Cindel,” Zia admitted easily, too easily he thought. “And he definitely did not kill himself.”
“So why carry the extra dagger around?” he dropped his eyes to her jacket. He had noticed the way it fell further to her hips, but never said anything about it. At first he thought it was just extra protection, but she kept moving her hands there as if to make sure she didn’t drop it. Zia bit her lip, and reached in her pocket to reveal a cobalt dagger. Aeryn whistled.
“That’s some fancy weaponry you got there,” he held his hand out to take it, and hesitantly she handed it over. The blade was well balanced, and could easily take out any Specter that dared touch it. But the handle was simple, save for a small engraving on the bottom of an oval with an “X” at either ends; the symbol of the Neith.
“I found it at the cliff, where he had supposedly jumped,” Zia went on, “right after—“ she cut herself off.
“Right after what?” Aeryn eyed her, and she looked away.
Zia took a breath, and seemed to be deciding what to do. But soon she admitted, “Right after the Realm Walker dropped it.”
She saw his pupils retract to pinpricks, and the way his face paled just a bit. His grip on the dagger tightened, thankfully around the handle and not the blade, and he let out a wheeze. He breathed, “Realm Walker?”
“Yeah,” Zia shifted her feet, “the cobalt burned her and then…she vanished.”
Aeryn cursed. “I knew you saw something! I knew it, and I thought you would be smart enough to tell me if you did! Why in Light did you not tell me?”
“Well,” Zia panicked, and the words came out before she could stop them, “why didn’t you tell me that you knew Donataen and Cindel?”
That seemed to stop him. He thrust the dagger back at her, and she yanked it from his hands. He sighed and crossed his arms, flicking his head to move his hair back. He spoke through gritted teeth, “Because you weren’t ready.”
“You knew I would find those photos, and the letters,” she accused him, “so why didn’t you just say you knew him? That the only reason you’re mentoring me is because of him?”
“That isn’t the only reason,” Aeryn said, “and I needed to find out what you were capable of.”
Zia furrowed her brow, not understanding. What did that have to do with anything? She questioned, “How did you know him?”
“We went to school together, sort of,” Aeryn held a hand out in the air, “he and Cindel went to the Academy together, and we met one night when they were trying to catch a STRAY. I saved their sorry asses before they got themselves killed, and we just started Tracking together. I was already a Ventori at the time, so I sort of…showed them the ropes.”
“You were his mentor?” Zia could hear the betrayal in her voice. Donataen had never told her about a mentor…why had he never mentioned Aeryn or Cindel?
“We had a bit of a falling out a few years ago,” Aeryn continued, “we haven’t talked in a while…but he always talked about you.”
Zia’s expression softened. “Really?”
“He said you were a pain in the ass, and I now know why.”
“Oh.”
“You can’t go off on your own like this, like they did,” Aeryn
scolded her, “you need to share information with your partner, so they can back you up. So I can back you up. Not some little human who can barely look a person in the eye.”
“You’re my mentor, not my partner,” Zia shot back, as if that mattered. But she was still mad that he had been following her, again. Why did everyone follow her around?
“Same thing right now,” Aeryn leaned in, and Zia could feel herself starting to think back to the kiss. As attracted as she was to him though, something was off, and she found she was starting to think of Hayden again. He said, “So let’s share what we know, and go over to Wraith to question Achaicious.”
“We’re going to Wraith?” Zia almost jumped, and their faces were only an inch apart. Aeryn was first to start moving.
“We need to see what he knows,” Aeryn called behind him, and Zia followed like a puppy after its mother, “but we need to bring Malachi with us.”
Zia stopped. “Mal? Why?”
“Because you carry too many weapons on you,” Aeryn laughed, “and he’s claimed you as his companion, right?”
She grimaced and caught up with her mentor. “Don’t remind me.”
“Let’s go find him then.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Zia declared, “after last night I bet he’s still stalking me.”
“He likes you,” Aeryn shrugged, “what happened last night?”
Zia spoke too quickly to be seen as innocent, “Nothing.”
“What did I just say about sharing information?”
“Okay,” Zia caved in, “Mal just…thought something was happening when it really wasn’t at a party. He just…threatened Hayden a bit, and I told him to go away.”
She pictured how defeated he had looked, and how he looked like she had just ripped his heart out and let him watch it strike its last beat. At the time she was more concerned with making sure Hayden was still breathing, and she started to feel a little guilty.
“What did he think was happening?” Aeryn shifted his eyes towards her, but she kept hers forward.
