A Matter of Forever (Fate #4)

by Heather Lyons

  She leans closer and says softly, “Pain medicine. It’s for nons.”

  It’ll do. I motion toward one of the syringes; she picks it up and hands it to me, her eyes wide and confused—a little anxious, too. Does she worry I’m going to dose her with it? I give her a smile: trust me. And then I stick the needle into the rubber top and fill the barrel.

  She backs away a little.

  I prove I mean her no harm when I shove the needle into my own arm. Something warms spreads out from the epicenter, something numbing.

  Numb is good. I can work with numb.

  I make a new piece of paper. What is your name? Mine is Chloe.

  She looks up at me in surprise, like she recognizes my name. If I’m lucky, maybe she does. “Cicely.”

  I get rid of the paper and make a new one. Do you know how many people are here other than us?

  Her eyes flit toward the half-open doorway. Five fingers go up; she shakes her head quickly. Four fingers.

  Are they all bodies like ours? She’s confused, so I add: Do any look like shadow monsters?

  She shakes her head, confused. Okay. She’s only seen the Elders possessing Magical bodies. I do a quick inventory of the ones I know of ... Jens. Harou. Nivedita. Earle, who is now gone. The Elemental ... Thierry? I need you to stay quiet, okay? We need to sneak up on them for me to protect us. Can you stay quiet for me?

  She takes a deep breath; nods her head.

  Good girl.

  As I tiptoe toward the door, I catch site of the leg sticking out of the closet. How could I have forgotten about it? I motion for Cicely to stay back and reverse course to check it out, hoping against hope that I’m wrong. That maybe the people who live here have a thing for mannequins with painted toenails.

  But, no. There’s a real woman in there, her messy hair laced with white, her eyes wide in terror as they fixate on something no longer there. Her body is bent at a funny angle, like it’d been a twig, and somebody carelessly snapped it and tossed it aside.

  I have to count to thirty before my anger simmers in the background.

  I wonder where the man was from before, the neurosurgeon that probably was no longer of any use to Enlilkian now that he has Cicely. Is this his wife? Partner? Is he still in this house? Or is there a closet holding his body, too?

  First things first. Get Cicely to safety. Kill as many mothereffers as I can on the way out.

  We find the first one watching television in a room down the hallway, its back to us. The set is on loud; an action movie is on, one I’ve seen before with Jonah just months before. And that burns me like nothing else ever could, knowing this sonofabitch gets to watch this godsawful movie right now, and Jonah ... he can’t.

  My fingers curl into fists. I strong arm myself to not go nuclear. But by gods, they will pay.

  Nivedita’s body is still, almost as if somebody got to it before me. And that won’t do. I want to extract my price from its existence. Nobody else should get that pleasure.

  I motion for Cicely to stand watch in the hallway. Crow like a bird if you see someone, I tell her via paper. She nods and flattens her back against the wall. I make myself some special shoes, ones that will hide any sound I might make from foot against floor, and sneak inside.

  The Nivedita Elder makes a noise right as I come up behind it, one of surprise. I go still, waiting for its head to whip around, but it takes only a pair of seconds to realize it’s reacting to the television.

  The bad guy just got blown up. How deliciously ironic.

  My hands clamp down on its shoulder, just like its did on Jonah. And then I whisper as it jerks in my hands, “You no longer exist, bitch.”

  I don’t mind falling against the chair when it disappears. That’s two.

  I creep back into the hallway; Cicely is tight as a wire as her eyes swing back and forth between entry points. I switch her shoes over to the same kind I’ve made for myself and hop up and down to show her we don’t have to worry about sound.

  Her smile that forms, the first I’ve seen from her so far, is adorable.

  I hold up five fingers and smile myself before lowering one. Three to go, including Enlilkian.

  We’re at the end of the hallway when the house begins to tremble. Cicely grabs onto me, fear twisting her sweet features. Howling winds pound at the walls, glass nearby rattles. But that’s not what has her on edge; somewhere in the house, Enlilkian bellows in anger, ordering people outside. Take care of them, I think he’s thundering. It’s a little hard to hear him over the din, though.

  I quickly yank Cicely into a nearby closet. As I’m not the one causing the windstorm outside, I can only hope it means there is a Magical out there fighting back. Maybe one who lost the thing most precious to them.

  I bend down and take Cicely’s hands. “Is your mom or dad an Elemental?”

  She shakes her hand, her little fingers gripping mine like she’s afraid to let go. “Mommy is a Tide. Daddy is a Shaman like me.”

  Hope, even as small as it is, sprouts inside of my deadened chest. Could the Guard be here? Could our chances really have improved so quickly?

  I smooth her curls around her head, careful not to touch the scabbed, raw patch of skin missing blonde strands. “Don’t be scared. I think that might be a friend of mine outside.”

  It’s her turn to touch my face, right on the cheekbone she tried so hard to heal. “You’re the Creator, aren’t you?”

  So she does know me after all. I tell her, “I am, sweetie.”

  “Mommy says you can do anything.”

  Not anything. But I can do enough to make sure Cicely gets back to her mommy. I couldn’t save Jonah, but I can do my damndest to save this little girl.

  “Why are you crying?” One of her thumbs wipes my cheek. “Do you still hurt?”

  Yes, I want to tell her. Yes. My chest hurts so bad right now that it’s hard to breathe.

  The sounds of frenzied screaming seep through the cracks in the doorway. I quickly whip up a little monitor to see what is going on in the house. There is ... nobody here. That doesn’t mean anything, though. They’d hidden from me before, in Karnach.

  Outside, though—there are three Elders wearing their Magical bodies and a handful of the incorporeal shape shifters. Huh. My body count today is going to be higher than six, that’s for sure. There are also some other familiar faces on the outskirts of the yard, where the land is flat for miles and covered in mist: Raul Mesaverde, with his hands outstretched as he twists a pair of impossibly thin tornadoes toward the house; Vance, a Blaze I worked with on some Elders missions, his hands filled with fire balls angling toward the monsters charging him; and Lola, another Elemental I’ve worked with. She’s yanking lightning down from the skies, like Zeus from Olympus.

  My heart stutters as I stare at the screen. Swells until it nearly bursts. Jonah! Jonah’s here! The urge to tear down the walls around us and rush outside and throw my arms around him and never let go has me jerking up, my hand on the doorknob.

  But then he yells something at the team, and I realize it’s not Jonah. It’s Kellan.

  Jonah’s not here. Kellan is.

  Cicely takes the screen dangling in my hand and brings it close to her face. “Are those your friends?”

  It’s Kellan.

  It’s—

  “Yes, sweetie.” The holes in my chest do not close, even though parts of me are sparking to life, knowing one of my Connections is out there right now.

  Stop.

  One of my Connections is out there right now.

  I take a deep breath. Count to ten. I tell Cicely, “There has been a change of plans. I am going to go outside and help my friends. You need to stay here.”

  Her eyes go wide in fear.

  I erase all the clothes crowding us, padding the walls with a pretty fabric. All of the shoes and boxes also disappear; in their place is a small beanbag on the ground and some books, dolls, and crayons. I wish I could give her snacks and water, but for all the things I can creat
e, those are not in my arsenal.

  I press my hands against the walls of the closet, strengthening them until nothing—not even Enlilkian—can break into this tiny room unless I will it so. I’d like to just see that fucker try to break through what I’ve made now. “You’re going to be safe in here. I promise none of the bad guys can get to you. I’m going to go out there and help my friends; when we’re done getting the bad guys, I will come back and get you and take you home. Okay?”

  She clutches my sleeves. “Don’t leave me!”

  I force my tears to stay where they are. “I don’t want to, Cicely. But I also don’t want to risk you getting hurt. I promise you, I will come back. I need to go out and help my friends, but I don’t want the bad guys to get you. You’ll be safe in here, okay? They won’t know you’re here. They won’t be able to hurt you.”

  Her tears fall, though. Quiet, sad ones that viciously tug on the heartstrings I still have. “Promise?”

  I hold out my pinkie; she hooks her small one around mine. “I promise.” I tap on the monitor. “You can watch me here, okay? So you can see when I’m coming to get you.”

  We hug again; I hold her close, smoothing her tangled hair. I let her know I’m going to erase the door so nobody can open it behind me, to not be afraid that there will be no way out, that it’s just for her safety.

  And then I leave to go find Kellan.

  I don’t go through the front door. I make myself another door in the bedroom I took out Nivedita’s murderer in.

  For some reason, I thought we were in a residential neighborhood, but I was wrong. This house is out in the middle of freaking nowhere. While there is a smart lawn surrounding the house, it also sits at the top of a hill, buffered on two sides by thick groves of trees that eventually open to rugged, barren land as far as the eye can see.

  Fan-flipping-tastic.

  Enlilkian’s voice rises above the roaring winds barreling down on the house. He’s ... amused, I think. And, I guess it makes sense considering no Magical team has bested him yet. They can subdue the Elders for short periods of time before losing control. So I can’t help the grin that curves my lips upward. Won’t it be a fun surprise for him when he realizes the playing field has been leveled?

  I make myself a coat—green, to match the trees around us—and take off toward the woods. Kellan’s on the other side of the house; last I saw, he had several of the incorporeal Elders on the ground screaming, but it’s pointless. It’s like him trying to hold back the tide—sooner or later, it’ll come all the same. I just need to get myself out there before it does so I can destroy them before they get to him.

  Which is going to be harder than I imagined because, the moment I plunge into the forest, I find out why Enlilkian must have favored such a place to hole up in. There are thorny brambles growing against the base of the trees everywhere, ones whose mercy is nowhere to be seen with each move I make. I’m bleeding within seconds, my clothes shredding as the fabric catches upon each thorn. To make matters worse, I’m stinging and itching, too.

  Jesus. What kind of plants are these, anyway? An irrational wish for my mother to be here and counter them surfaces. But my mom isn’t here to save me. The people who are here are in grave danger themselves; I need to get to them as soon as possible. I calculate my odds—try to make it through these brambles or take my chances in the open expanses of the backyard and landscape?

  Somebody screams, crying out in agony. Fireballs shoot into the sky, exploding into a mushroom cloud.

  I hate to think of it as such, but it’s the perfect diversion. I force myself back out of the grove and take off across the lawn, only to be struck within seconds by a flying branch. I hit the ground hard, right on the leg Cicely tried so hard to fix. But that’s not what’s causing my eyes to fill up; it’s my arm that I tried to balance my fall, the one that was broken and so recently fixed.

  I’ve rebroken it.

  I force myself to get back on my feet anyway, cradling the arm to my chest. Ash swirls around me, drawing patterns in the sky. The trees are on fire; it’s spreading toward the house.

  I have to move faster.

  When I skid around the side of the building, I trip once more—this time over Vance’s body. His neck is funny, twisted, like it’s not even his. My good hand immediately covers my mouth, to hold back the scream that fights so hard to get out. Oh gods, he’s dead. Vance is dead.

  Another person is dead because of me.

  I scramble to get up, but something shoves my face into the grass; my legs tangle with Vance’s. An eerie, distorted voice hisses, “What have we here?”

  CRAP.

  My bad arm is pinned below me; thousands of tiny hammers nail spikes over and over into my skin, sucking the air clean out of my lungs. Even still, I kick and thrash, frantic to get myself up and out so I can fight this thing until I remember: I’m already touching it. It’s touching me.

  It’s gone within a second, never to be heard from again. That’s three.

  I roll onto my back and stare into the darkened, angry sky above me. Stars circle my head, but I don’t think they have anything to do with the sight above me. A bone sticks out of my forearm. Holy hell on a donkey, it hurts so bloody bad.

  But I force myself first up on my knees and then my feet, promising Vance I will take as many out as I can.

  There’s no sign of Kellan as I pan the front yard, or for that matter, Enlilkian. Raul’s out there, though, his two feet wide twisters playing tag with three incorporeal Elders. Cicely hadn’t seen any of them—but I guess maybe they’ve been the guard dogs outside after all. And there’s Lola, off toward the far edge of the tree grove, her lightning strikes fast and furious as they dance between the funnels.

  There are three to my one. I will have no Emotional right now compelling them to cower before me, no Quake stunning them into stillness, no Métis pinning them to the ground with a blade so I can get them. There’s just me, two tornados, and a hell of a lot of lightning.

  I don’t mind this death wish. Not when one of these might have been the one to stab my husband over and over. And just the thought of that has me leaning back against weathered blue, wooden panels of the house for a second so I can stuff the grief multiplying at an alarming rate inside my chest and heart into far too small a box, to be opened later on, when there is plenty of time to fall apart and drown. Right now, though, Kellan and his team need me.

  I run straight toward the tornados.

  Raul must see me, because the thin twisters shifts and backtrack. Luckily for me, the Elder I’m charging pays more attention to Raul’s machinations than to me. It isn’t until I’m a few feet away, and another Elder shouts my location, that it turns to face me. No matter. I allow myself to slam right into it, even though white light flashes before my eyes and pain thunders through my useless right limb.

  One of its arms elongates, but I let it know that I’m no longer playing games. I waste no time winking its sorry excuse of an existence right out of these worlds. Without even a second given to catch my breath, another Elder comes in swinging, its clubbed limbs pummeling me into the grass. Too bad for it that retribution hones my focus like nothing else in all the worlds, because it doesn’t stand a chance against my wrath.

  It’s gone in seconds, too. That’s four.

  “Chloe!” Raul’s running toward me—or rather, limp-running. Lola is sprinting toward me, too, but as selfish as it makes me sound, all I care about right now is Kellan. Where is Kellan?

  Before she can reach me, the Elemental is tackled by an Elder wielding what look like machetes. Have these things been studying weapons during their downtime? “Keep them off me!” I shout at Raul. It hurts like hell to push myself up, my bloody arm dripping uselessly next to me, but I do it. I am not letting a single other person die for me.

  Lola is hysterical in her efforts to get away, blood flying left and right as it hacks at her. Lightning zigzags its way down around then, but it’s white noise. To hit the monster attacki
ng her would be to risk herself.

  I finally make it to them just as one of its machete arms raises high to strike. With my good hand, I grab it and hold on tight. And then it’s gone, and Lola is beneath me, sobbing and splattered in injuries.

  That’s five.

  I want to kneel down next to her, but I’m selfishly worried about the difficulties of getting up again. “It’s okay,” I assure her as softly as I can. “I got it. It can’t hurt you anymore.”

  She’s inconsolable. I wish I had time to comfort her, to tend to her, but there’s no time. “Where is Kellan?”

  She doesn’t answer. Across the lawn, Raul lets us know one is incoming. He’s got his twisters in action once more. “Listen to me, Lola. You are going to get up and get yourself to safety. But you need to let me know where Kellan is.”

  Her eyes are so wide as she struggles to get up. I offer my good hand, but it’s a pathetic gesture, the wounded helping the wounded. But we manage to get her to her feet, albeit unsteadily. “He’s ...” She shrinks as screams surround us. “I don’t know where he is! Vance—Vance is dead!”

  She’s crying again. I feel like the biggest bitch in the worlds, but I say once more, “You need to get out of here. I will take care of the rest.” To Raul, struggling with chasing down the Elder zigzagging toward us with his impossibly thin twisters, I shout, “Throw it to me!”

  I think he laughs, but he does exactly what I ask. Both twisters converge, forcing the Elder high in the air and then plummeting down as they crisscross swipe in a pattern across the yard. I sprint toward it, grabbing hold of a limb as it flounders in its descent.

  It’s gone without a second thought. That’s six.

  Raul finally makes his way to where I am. “Chloe! Thank the gods! Are you okay?”

  No. I am most definitely not okay. So much grief pounds at the confines of my cored out chest. But I tell him I am anyway. He doesn’t need my baggage, not when he’s here, risking so much already. “Where’s Kellan? How many are left?”