A Matter of Forever (Fate #4)

by Heather Lyons

  “Is he still in custody?” Jonah asks.

  It’s Raul who answers. “Yes. He’s been under constant surveillance the entire time. What a character that one is.”

  “For all of his protests claiming ignorance, he wasn’t too surprised when we told him, though,” Moira adds.

  “But, that’s not ...” Karl’s head dips for a moment before he says, “There’s something else you two need to know. Kate Blackthorn informed us that Basswood’s wife, Tricia, was pregnant—her due date was in a few weeks.”

  Gods. Not one, but two children? What kind of monsters are these?

  Astrid takes a deep breath, her hands splaying across her lap before knotting together. “The baby was not left unscathed.”

  Freeze frame. Stop. Just ... no.

  Erik clears his throat. “Was the ...,”—another soft clearing of the throat—“fetus in the same state as the adults?”

  His meaning is not lost to me. He’s asking if the tiny body was wizened and drained, too, a husk of what it once was?

  Astrid says, voice barely above a whisper, “Yes.”

  I think I want to throw up.

  Cora is nearly apoplectic, she’s so upset by this information.

  “Fucking outrage and tragedy aside,” Will says, voice low and angry, “what does that mean? I’m sorry to have to ask, but I’m figuring you all aren’t letting us know about this travesty for shits and giggles.”

  But neither Astrid nor Karl needs to tell him. I know. It’s suddenly all so clear. I know because that bastard has been telling me about this all along, hasn’t he? All my words shatter and fall out of me. “He’s building his strength, even if just by a ...,” I swallow hard, “tiny bit so he can force my hand to do whatever it is he wants. He’s—he’s ...”

  Jonah twists his chair until he’s in front of me, hands cupping my face. “No. Don’t go there. This isn’t your fault, do you hear me? You didn’t do this. He did this. These are Enlilkian’s choices. They have nothing to do with yours.”

  How did I go from such happiness to this? To more children and more families dead, all because this sick monster is desperate to get me to do his bidding?

  “Chloe, listen to me,” my husband tells me, shaking me gently until I blink a clearer picture of what’s in front of me. “I’ve felt him. He ... you and I and every other person in this room cannot understand him, cannot conceptualize why he does what he does, because his feelings and reality are nothing like ours. There is no compassion, no sense of right or wrong, no humanity in him. He just is. Even Bios is different than he is. The only things he truly, and I use this word loosely, feels are pleasure and a justification for what he perceives are his entitlements. So, you cannot allow yourself to get dragged down in a sense of guilt over this, because that’s what he wants. He’s been studying you—studying all of us—for a long time now. While he doesn’t quite understand the reasonings behind our emotions, he knows his actions illicit strong reactions. It’s why he hates Kellan and me so much. Emotionals are ... we’re foreign to him. Unnatural. Because he never created our kind. Rudshivar did. To Enlilkian, emotions are nothing more than weaknesses.”

  “But—”

  “No buts.” He lets go of my face to claim both my hands, grounding me to my chair and the apartment. “Trust me. I’ve felt him. And chances are, he probably would have done just such a thing whether we were gone or not, because he believes he’s owed these powers back.” And then, more gently, “Even from an innocent baby.”

  He knows me well. Even still, too much of my personal happiness always seems to come at the great expense of others, and it breaks my heart to think this could be the case again. “Do you think he did this because we left? Because he couldn’t find me?”

  Before Jonah can answer, Karl says, “Jonah’s right, Chloe. Whether or not you had been here, that attack most likely would have occurred, even against a baby.”

  “But, this baby wasn’t born,” Callie says. She’s shivering, she’s so angry. “How the hell did they know it even had a craft worth targeting?”

  Karl doesn’t look at any of us when he says, “I wish I could answer that. Enlilkian is ...” He blows out a hard breath. “Maybe it’s because he’s the first Creator. Maybe he can sense things the rest of us aren’t capable of.” And then, like the words are hard to get out, “In any case, the baby was ... out of its mother when we found it.”

  Oh. My. Gods. I—I can’t—

  “Who does that,” Cora whispers. “Who treats life like that, like it’s so disposable?”

  Anger and frustration flashes in Jonah’s eyes and he leans forward. “I’m so fucking tired of this cat and mouse game. We need to get back on the offensive and hunt them down. Karl, whatever the Guard needs to track down their nest—you will have the Council’s full support. I will make sure the Subcommittee doesn’t block one damn thing you guys request. But it needs to start now, understood?”

  Karl and Moira exchange a look. And then, tentatively, Karl says, “We need him back. If this is going to work like I think you want it to, we need him here and on the team.”

  Jonah’s eyes close briefly as he takes in a deep breath, like he’s debating which words to best say.

  “You know we wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t important,” Raul says. “But the Guard stands no chance controlling these bastards without an Emotional.”

  “Kellan isn’t the only Emotional on the Guard,” Callie points out.

  “This is true,” Raul tells her. “But he’s the best one we have. The others, as good as they are, are not as nuanced and powerful as he or Jonah. We need a Whitecomb on the team, and ...” He turns to Jonah. “Perhaps I’m wrong, amigo, but I’m thinking you are not ready to volunteer quite yet, not with Chloe still being a target and all.”

  There is a full five seconds of silence before Jonah says, voice even, like we’re discussing the weather, “You’re right about that. And ... as Kellan and I aren’t currently speaking, I’m afraid I’m not going to be of any help tracking him down. You guys will have to use one of the other Emotionals on the team.”

  Wait—what? They’re not speaking? I search for his attention, want to ask him what he means by that, but I’m not the only one taken aback by this latest bit of news.

  Wrinkles form between Moira’s eyebrows. “But you two are always in each other’s heads. Couldn’t you—”

  “We decided,” Jonah continues calmly, but his fingers curling in and out show me his irritation at having to explain himself, “that it would be best to cut off communication for a few weeks. So, even if I remove the mental blocks I’ve put in place, his are still there. Outside of a phone call, there’s no way for me to get ahold of him.”

  “Calling is no use,” Callie says. “He left his phone behind with Mom and took a different one with him. I tried to get him to give us the number, just in case, but ...” She looks over at her mother, now clutching Cameron’s hand in her lap. “But he told us we had to trust him, that he needed this time.”

  He’s not even talking to Callie? Or Astrid? Kellan’s completely cut off from everyone? Is he even on his mission right now?

  “Shit,” Karl murmurs.

  “Do you have an idea when he might be back?” Will asks Jonah.

  The surprises keep rolling in when my husband admits, “No. But, I’ll let you all know when I know anything.”

  I guess I stupidly assumed that Jonah knew where his brother was, knew how he was. That, despite everything, they were still talking. That they still had that bond, that link between them. They’ve both assured me, over and over, that even when they’re furious or hurt, they were always there for one another. Yet, Kellan is now out there somewhere, alone, and—

  Jonah takes my hand once more and squeezes it meaningfully, like he knows I’m perilously close to spiraling into the minefields of anxiety. Later, he’s telling me. We’ll talk about this when everyone goes home.

  “It might be a good idea to convene the Subcommi
ttee tomorrow in order to ease into the Council meeting on Friday,” Karl muses. “Zthane and I will get moving on our end tonight, so we can give you a plan to present.” He turns to Raul. “Go and visit Bios tonight. See if we’ve somehow left some kind of stone unturned, especially when it comes to the Elders here in Annar.”

  Raul stands up; Cora follows. “I’m on it, brother.”

  My oldest friend comes over to hug me before they leave. “I’m so happy for you,” she murmurs into my hair. “For the both of you. I know it’s going to be hard, but ... as shitty as tonight may seem, as awful as everything we’ve just learned, try to hold onto the happiness I know you two have finally allowed yourselves to accept. You’re technically still on your honeymoon, you know.”

  I kiss her cheek before we let go of one another. She’s so sweet to say this, even though I doubt there will be celebrations on our behalves tonight. I tell her, instead, that I hope we’ll get to hang out soon.

  She and Raul leave; the Graystones are close on their heels after Jonah and Karl have a quiet discussion off to the side. Moira tries her best to distract me, and I humor her by asking about Emily’s latest antics. And then, they’re gone, too, Erik as well, and we’re left with just our family.

  While I was saying goodbye to everyone, Cameron fixed up a tray of tea and biscuits Will baked earlier in the day; Astrid helps him pour and pass out cups.

  “Where did you two end up going?” she asks Jonah, as if we hadn’t just been told a baby had been ripped out of its mother and had its life force sucked out of it. But Astrid Lotus doesn’t have a cruel bone in her entire body. She’s saying this because she’s worried about us. I get that. I do.

  But it doesn’t mean I’m not imagining that house of horrors as he tells her, “Rome.”

  As she adds honey to her tea, she smiles genuine and wide. “Oh, sweetling, that pleases me so much to finally hear.”

  A small miracle occurs, because my husband blushes. Callie laughs, saying, “It took you getting married to crack, huh?”

  Will leans back into the couch, curling his fingers around the mug. “I suspect there’s a story here.”

  “There is no story,” Jonah insists at the same time Callie says, “Jonah’s Italian.”

  The corners of Will’s lips quirk upward. “And ... obviously all Italians must honeymoon in Italy?”

  Callie throws her biscuit at him. I totally interpret that as foreplay.

  “You know,” Jonah says, “it’s not the first time I’ve been there.”

  “The first time voluntarily,” Callie counters.

  Huh? “Actually,” I tell her, “we went there last summer.”

  Both Astrid and Callie’s eyes widen. “Oh, sweetling,” Astrid says. She’s surprisingly misty-eyed. “That’s so wonderful to hear. Just ...” She lays an elegant hand over her heart. “So wonderful.”

  I turn toward Jonah, who is busying himself with sugar cubes he doesn’t particularly like in his tea. Am I missing something?

  Finally, he looks up at Astrid and says quietly, “You were right.”

  All of that misty-eyed countenance turns downright teary.

  To the rest of us, he says, “Kellan and I were always a little ... resistant, I guess, to going to Italy.” One of the sugar cubes loses shape between his fingertips. “Italy, to us, represented our mother, so it was ...” He shrugs. “Painful, I suppose.” He looks up, smiles fondly at the woman who raised him. “Any time we went, it was because our uncle or Astrid dragged us there. They thought someday we’d appreciate it, see the value of,”—he chuckles quietly—“our heritage.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I remember once, when I was maybe ... ten? Eleven? My uncle was on a mission, so was my aunt, so Astrid brought Callie, Kel and me to Rome for our every other month weekend of so-called bonding with our familial heritage.”

  “Oh my gods!” Callie smacks the arms of her chair. “I totally remember this one.” Smirking, she glances over at her mother. “It was the first time I ever heard you yell at him. Like, really yell—red in the face, voice at the top of your lungs, fists clenched yell.” She chortles.

  Astrid merely sips her tea, the corners of her lips hinting at her amusement.

  Jonah’s own smile is wry. “Yes, well, I deserved it after the ... uh ...”

  “Tantrum,” Callie says helpfully. “Melt down. Hissy fit.”

  I can’t help but laugh along with her. “You had a tantrum? At eleven?”

  “It was glorious,” Callie says. “See, I was normally the rabble-rouser. Kellan would have his snit fits, too. But J? He made the rest of us look like brats. So for this to happen—in public no less—”

  I’m laughing so hard right now. “You didn’t!”

  Before Jonah can answer, Callie says slyly, “Oh, yes. This was in the middle of the Forum, while Mom was lecturing us about Roman Republic history. She figured that, while we were there, we might as well get a history lesson, too. Kill two birds with one stone and all.”

  Astrid’s smile is serene. She’s utterly unapologetic.

  “But please, J—continue,” Callie says, motioning toward him.

  He rolls his eyes and they bicker for another minute, but honestly? It’s done in an indulgent way, which warms my heart. They’re acting like ... old friends. Good friends.

  Brother and sister, even.

  There is no discomfort between Jonah and Callie right now, none of the sadness that permeated any room they were in together for so long. Just history. Rich, wonderful, loving history.

  My heart swells in my chest.

  “The point I’m trying to make,” Jonah finally says, and it’s Cal’s turn to roll her eyes, “is I was,”—he clears his throat—“vocal about why I didn’t want to be there.”

  “The Forum?” Cameron asks innocently.

  Jonah chuckles. “The Forum. Rome. Italy. Anywhere that wasn’t a beach that had good waves. And Astrid, in return, was quite vocal about how there was going to be a day in which I was going to be grateful for Rome, and for my family’s home, and that I better just shut the hell up and while I was at it, why wasn’t I arguing with her in Italian?”

  Astrid says smoothly, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do, sweetling.”

  We all laugh and laugh, because the image of Jonah yelling at Astrid (and in public, no less!) is ludicrous.

  I take his hand in mine as Cameron recounts a time he and Molly went to Italy. It’s a good story, and I love hearing Molly stories, but ... I can’t help but think about what I’ve just learned about my husband. He took me somewhere last year when I broke down, somewhere he’d never gone voluntarily before, because it’d been too painful for him. I was the first person to share that with him—because, just like he’s my safety, I’m his.

  Gods, I love him something fierce.

  “I’d like to go back to Italy,” Callie muses. And then, to Cameron, “The way you’ve just described Venice is divine.”

  “As there is a portal nearby,” Will says, “there’s nothing stopping you.”

  She looks at him then—really looks at him. Not in an angry way, despite his teasing. Just ... like she’s seeing right into him.

  And the funny thing is, Will is looking at her the same way. Interesting. And ... promising?

  “Maybe you both could take William there,” Astrid says over the rim of her teacup. It’s enough to snap them both out of whatever is happening.

  Oh, it’s so selfish of me, but I wish so much that these two would find their way to one another.

  I turn to Jonah, but he just smiles and shakes his head. We can talk about this later, too.

  Callie says, smoothing her skirt and clearly pretending she didn’t just get lost in Will’s gorgeous brown eyes for a long moment in front of four other people, “I wonder if Kellan has gone there.”

  “He came that first time Chloe and I went, too,” Jonah admits. “I mean, he was only there for maybe ten minutes, but he came, too.”

  Cameron passes Astrid a napkin a
nd she dabs her eyes. She’s smiling, though. Smiling so beautifully wide that I can only hope that someday I’ll be able to look at one of my children like that, too.

  “Did you like Italy?” Will asks me.

  “I did,” I tell him. “I loved it.” I squeeze my husband’s hand. “It helps that Jonah’s fluent, because I’m awful at Italian and, you know, languages in general.” I can’t help but tease, “And he’s pretty damn hot when he’s speaking it, too.” I pretend to fan myself.

  I love that Jonah blushes for a second time in a single night. That he’s let his guard down enough to not feel like he has to maintain an in control façade 24/7 around everyone, even in front of Cameron and Will. That we are now, definitely, absolutely, one big family. That he’s finally letting people in after years of being the one in control.

  “Jonah has always been so wonderful at picking up languages,” Astrid says. “His accents are exquisite.” And then, “Mi rendi così orgoglioso, figlio mio. Lo sempre hai.”

  And he says in return, “Ti voglio bene, mamma. Grazie per non aver mai rinunciato a me.”

  She stands up, her flowing skirt swishing softly, and hugs him. There’s no need to ask him later what they’ve just said, because it’s obvious. And it’s so beautiful I can hardly stand it.

  As we lay in bed later, I decide not to push Jonah on any of the details about Kellan’s sabbatical. The truth is ... this is between them. Kellan has asked for space, and he deserves exactly that.

  I count to ten and take a deep breath. Jonah told me once that, when things seem too hard, I should take a breath, because sometimes we don’t need to look at the end game to get through the day. If it all seems too hard, we can get through the next breath, and then the next minute. Then the hour, then the day. Inch by inch, step by step.

  Gods, I hope Kellan is okay right now.

  I roll on my side and stare at Jonah in the pale moonlight. He’s finally fallen asleep, which relieves me greatly. After our family left for the night, he spent another hour on the phone with Zthane and Karl, and then two more with members of the Elders Subcommittee. And then, after that, we debriefed together for a half hour before I strong armed him into getting some sleep before he fell over. It seems too unfair that he has so much responsibility weighing down his shoulders, that we’re both asked, at only twenty years of age, to fumble through what we think is right and wrong for trillions of beings.