by Carol Oates
“I’ll decide when anyone leaves,” she said coldly.
“Triona—” Amanda started. Triona silenced her with a glare.
Amanda’s hand slipped from Triona’s back, and she took a step away, confusion and hurt playing out across her expression. I had seen them argue before this. What best friends didn’t argue? Amanda never backed down this way—a single look enough to make her fold.
“You can’t lie to me,” Triona said, casting her watery eyes over each of us. She swiped at her cheek. “I don’t actually need Eila for that.”
No one spoke. I glanced at Lewis and Carmel. They seemed so out of place. Carmel clutched Lewis’s arm. His jaw was rigid, a sign he was struggling to hold his tongue. Humans had no place in this situation, family or not. In a dangerous circumstance, they would be lost first. I could never forgive myself if something happened to either of them.
“Then you understand this had to be Zeal’s doing,” Eila said plainly, “and you understand Caleb expected it would be a matter of time. You took everything from Zeal at Tara, including his son.”
“I killed his son,” Joshua added. “I’d do it again if I had to. The question is how do we get Caleb back?”
Eila’s lips spread into a tight smile. I often wondered how their relationship worked. It must have been strange to have no secrets at all, only brutal honestly all the time. It had to be emotionally exhausting. I was under no illusion about Amanda and me. She drank the tar I called coffee with a smile, and I told her she was a good driver.
Triona’s eyes lowered. “It’s my fault.” She rubbed her face with her palm and raked her fingers through her hair, dragging it away from where it fell.
I stood quickly, yanking at the waistband of my jeans and shuffling from foot to foot, hoping to spare everyone from Triona’s earlier suspicion there was nothing to get back. There had to be some other explanation. We needed to keep from jumping to conclusions. It didn’t make sense that Zeal would kill Caleb and leave Triona behind. What did he have to gain, other than torturing her?
“Suggestions?” I asked, darting my eyes around, all of a sudden worried I had answered my own question. Maybe he didn’t want to kill Triona, perhaps he wanted to hurt her…to make her suffer.
“Where do you start?” Lewis said.
“I’ve already sent out word for any information,” Samuel replied.
“I will need to return to New York as soon as possible.” Eila stood again and Joshua stood beside her. “We’ve established a temporary safe house upstate for those once loyal to Zeal. People who’ve had access to information Zeal would rather stay hidden, historians, scientists, and those with gifts he coveted. Someone must know something.”
“What about Vincennes?” I suggested, referring to the underground palace the Council had maintained in the small town near Paris.
“There is nothing there anymore,” Annice answered with an unfamiliar tremor in her voice. “Eila and Joshua took care of it. The Council chambers were all but destroyed.” She took a quick breath and rolled her shoulders back.
Joshua crossed the short distance across the room to his parents. He leaned in, placing one hand on his mother’s shoulder and pecking her cheek. Annice closed her eyes, as though absorbing the sensation and committing it to memory. Samuel stood and embraced his son warmly, slapping his back. Joshua appeared to melt into the comfort for a moment before he pulled back and nodded respectfully to his father.
He then turned his attention to Triona. Walking toward her slowly and calmly, his gait and posture betrayed nothing of the turmoil he had to be bearing. If our positions were reversed and it was Caleb standing next to the door rather than my sister, I doubted I would have been as sensible.
Amanda moved out of their way and came back to my side. Triona’s head tilted to the side almost indiscernibly. Her lips parted, and she blinked a couple of times, her long, dark eyelashes fluttering against her ashen skin. I wondered what was going on inside her head when she peered at Joshua. I didn’t think Joshua and Caleb looked alike, but I didn’t spend my time scrutinizing them. Perhaps Triona saw what I couldn’t. Whatever. The lingering seconds she spent contemplating Joshua’s expression—or the colors of his aura—appeared to soften her anguish. Her shoulders relaxed, and the creases across her forehead smoothed.
A twinge of sharp and bitter jealousy sprang forward chased swiftly by nauseating guilt. What did it matter who succeeded in easing her mind? Rationally, I had no right to feel so possessive. Irrationally, the muscles in my legs twitched with the instinct to protect. Triona was my sister first. She was my family first. No one else in the whole world got us the way we got each other. Not even Amanda or Caleb. No one else was like us—Guardian, both stronger and weaker because of the human blood lacing our system.
“There is one thing to consider,” Eila began, breaking the forced silence in the room. We all offered our immediate and rapt attention. “There was one other person at Tara. If revenge is Zeal’s motivation, he may be exposed.”
Triona shook her head. “No. John isn’t a threat to Zeal. He doesn’t remember any of what happened. I made sure of it.”
“His revenge is against you. John being a threat is irrelevant.”
Triona’s jaw slackened as Eila’s words sank in.
John, the guy Triona dated in London, followed us to Ireland in a misguided attempt to prove himself her knight in shining armor. As a human, he was a liability, but I understood his motivation. He was in love with her. In the end, it became too much for him to discover the distorted reality he knew wasn’t the real world. Like most humans, he wasn’t ready to accept things like magic and living demi-gods. Regardless, Triona’s heart belonged to Caleb. She had done John a kindness by taking his memories of the event and the truth about her.
“Who’s watching John?” I asked.
Triona stared unblinking at Samuel. She paled further, if that was possible. His head moved side to side, hardly more than a twitch.
“I have to go to London,” she stated.
So no one was watching him, but Triona was in no emotional condition to go rushing off anywhere. I leapt from my seat and blocked the doorway.
“I don’t think so.”
Triona spun on her heels, defiant and breathing through her nose in a clear effort to remain calm. “Move, Ben.”
“Ben, what are you doing?” Amanda demanded, balancing on the edge on the couch cushion.
“We can send someone else to check up on him.” My eyes darted past her to Joshua. He held his hands up, palms out, indicating he wouldn’t come between us. “I’m sure there has to be someone we can trust in London.”
Triona snorted, her entire body trembling with the effort to refrain from attacking me. My own instincts tingled in my bloodstream. Bile burned in my throat, my body fighting against the conflicting desires to fight and guard my sister.
“It’s not about trust. John is my responsibility.” She bounced foot to foot in agitation. “He’s involved because of me.”
“You don’t know he is involved,” I pointed out, bracing my hands against the frame and shifting my position repeatedly. Triona would look for weakness in my stance. Just like I would in hers. The wood creaked under pressure from my fingertips.
“Move,” she snarled into my face. “I am the queen.”
“And I am your brother. Someone has already had a go at you today. I won’t let you go running off to London after some human.”
“Ben!” Amanda and Carmel exclaimed in unison.
Triona’s eyes widened to saucers, but she hesitated, and I took my opening. I was sure once she had some time to think, she’d see I was right.
“You’re exhausted. We all are. Caleb could be anywhere. Zeal could be anywhere. We need to do this smart. Let’s just wait until morning when we have more to go on. Samuel can get someone in London to check on John, right?”
I lifted my chin to Samuel, knowing he’d agree. With his son missing, he wouldn’t risk Triona too. He’d a
greed to a deal—a now obsolete deal—where Caleb exchanged his life for time with my sister. He grasped exactly what she meant to Caleb, enough to side with me on this.
Samuel stood. “I’ll put in a call.” With that, he retreated through the door leading to the kitchen.
“See,” I reasoned with Triona, although painfully aware of Amanda’s eyes burning holes into me. I wasn’t sure what I had done to upset her. “Please. A few hours is all I’m asking. Can you do that?”
Triona’s eyes danced between mine—livid at first—then I watched as the storm brewing in the green calmed. Her body sagged…defeated. Exhaustion rolled in like the sea, and she pinched the bridge of her nose hard before her eyes flickered toward Eila. I might not have noticed if I wasn’t standing directly in front of her.
“You win, Ben.”
As soon as I dropped my arms, Triona swept me aside and stormed up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. I let out a harsh breath and returned my attention to the room where everyone except Eila appeared to be staring me down with varying degrees of incredulity and disappointment.
“What?” I shrugged my shoulders.
Amanda scowled up at me. “You honestly don’t know? Really?” She bounced from her seat and pushed past me.
Chapter 4
Emma Hamilton
TRIONA KEPT TRUE to her word. I asked her to give me a few hours—she agreed and she did. She gave me exactly a few hours. She stole out under cover of darkness while everyone thought she slept in her old bedroom. She didn’t get around Eila’s gift. More like my wily sister edged it aside to tell the truth I wanted to hear and still get her own way. Samuel and Lewis were in the kitchen drinking coffee when she left. They heard nothing.
By the time we figured out her plan, she was on a private plane out of Bangor. I should have guessed. I should have known without having to guess.
Samuel traced John Hamilton’s London address to a street in Kensington, near Holland Park.
“I thought this guy owned a coffee shop?” I asked looking up at the five-story Victorian style house across the street. The place had been well-maintained or restored. The whitewashed stonework showed no signs of being weathered, and the heavy paneled door at the top of some steps had a high gloss finish with gleaming brass fixtures.
Although, looking around, it was perfectly in keeping with the area. There were no yards; each of the row of entrances opened onto the pavement with the below ground floor behind a black guardrail. Most of the cars parked on the quiet street were Mercedes, BMWs, and shiny SUVs with car seats that were not in the least bit suitable for urban use. If these were the everyday cars, I could only imagine their weekend counterparts tucked away in garages somewhere. John Hamilton was clearly loaded.
“Among other things,” Amanda replied, slipping her arm under mine. “I had no idea he had this kind of money. He never gave that impression.”
“Do we?” I asked rhetorically and pointed to one of the houses with a discreet “for sale” sign tied to a low rail. “I bet they run a credit check before they let you wipe your feet on the welcome mat.”
I shuddered as freezing air slipped through every opening of my clothing. We had gotten no reply when we rang the doorbell. Triona answered her phone long enough to say she was safe and told me to go away.
We should have been used to the cold after living in Maine our whole lives, but this was different. The weather in London was a wet cold that penetrated flesh and sank into bones, leaving me shivering from the inside out. Every time I exhaled, great big puffy clouds of vapor poured out from my lips. Amanda seemed to be making a very competent attempt at crawling inside my jacket in an effort to get warm. “Fresh,” the guy who drove the black cab called it. I couldn’t help suspecting it had something to do with Triona, since she had the ability to control weather over limited areas. I wondered if this was punishment for trying to stop her, freezing me out figuratively and literally.
The curtains behind the paned glass, sash window twitched and settled. Possibly Triona had realized I wouldn’t leave until I spoke to her, or maybe she planned to rescue us from a serious bout of pneumonia. Amanda didn’t want to return to the hotel without me. I didn’t want her to either. It felt safer having her here with me.
“She’s been in there a long time,” I said.
“Triona’s really stubborn, and she’s really upset right now. Can’t you tell?” Amanda answered dryly. She wasn’t angry at me any longer, but it didn’t stop her being the tiniest bit indignant on Triona’s behalf. “I just hope she calms down before we get arrested for loitering.”
“Triona wouldn’t let it get that…”
My words faded in my throat when Amanda’s reproachful gaze indicated she imagined Triona would certainly let it get that far.
Yet another pang of resentment hit me and throbbed inside my gut like two-day-old chicken. With my culinary skills, that was something I was closely acquainted with. “Caleb isn’t around, and he’s still causing problems.”
“Wow…Ben.” Amanda scowled, blowing into her cupped hands and rubbing them for friction. “That’s monumentally unfair. Caleb has made a bunch of poor decisions, but who hasn’t? You totally cut me off when you found out about Guardians and then invited me to Ireland for a supernatural showdown. I didn’t stay hidden at Tara and almost got us both killed. And let’s remember it was Triona who spared Zeal. We all mess up. Caleb didn’t ask for whatever happened to him.”
“You’re right,” I grumbled. “It’s just frustration spilling over. Ignore me.” Amanda sighed, and her heart skipped along for a few beats quicker than normal. She shuddered and pressed her body toward me, seeking heat and probably more. She wanted reassurance we would find Caleb unharmed.
For Triona’s sake, I wished I could lie to Amanda and assure her I had the answers, that I was confident. I couldn’t. Instead, I enfolded her in my arms.
“Thanks for coming.” I spoke against her hair and kissed the top of her head. “I know it can’t have been easy for you to come back here.”
She shrugged and buried her face in my chest. “I’ve come to realize it’s just a place, Ben. Bad things can happen anywhere.”
A few minutes later the door opened, and a person trundled out, wrapped up against the elements in a black coat with the hood up, shadowing their face. The coat draped almost all the way to the ground, stopping just short of a pair of thick-soled boots. For a split second I thought it was Triona, but then noticed this person was a good deal shorter, probably by about three or four inches.
The mystery person stopped on the opposite sidewalk, waiting for traffic to pass. I saw her face for the first time when she pulled the hood down. This girl was young, probably mid-teens. She glanced over at us and then back up and down the street once more before she crossed.
“I think that’s Emma,” Amanda said.
“Emma?”
“John’s sister,” she answered, extracting herself from under my coat. “I never met her. She was studying in France when we lived here. I did see a picture once but—” Amanda paused and tilted to her head, peering across the muted light. “She was less colorful in the picture.”
The girl’s glossy hair caught in the domed glow at the edge of the streetlights, reflecting like black vinyl. Choppy streaks of amber and dark red framed her face. As she came nearer, I saw what looked to be fake eyelashes, black and curled. Emerald green covering her lids accentuated her brown eyes and made them appear huge, despite being narrowed and distrustful. A small ruby stud gleamed on the side of her nose, and her full lips pouted, readily getting across the point this was the last place she wanted to be. The girl crossed the street, striding with determination and confidence. I imagined a comet blazing across a velvet night sky.
“She’s all kinds of wow,” Amanda observed lightly.
“Hey,” Emma greeted us casually, her soft British accent already apparent in that one word. I didn’t doubt she knew exactly who she was talking to. She was tiny up close,
smaller than Amanda, and the biting wind had flushed her cheeks a rosy pink.
“Hi, I’m Amanda and this is Ben,” Amanda chirped back just as casually. Emma’s eyes darted to her, and her lip twitched at one side threatening a smile that didn’t quite make it. Most people instantly liked Amanda, and it looked like Emma would be no different, even given this strained introduction.
“She is not coming out, and she says if John lets you into the house she’s leaving. He said I should tell you it’s not going to happen tonight, and you should come back tomorrow.”
Emma stuck her hands in her pockets, not before I noticed the bright red nail polish on her squared fingernails. I presumed it was more to do with the temperature than nerves considering the way her chin jutted out.
“I really have to talk to her. If I could—”
One hand emerged from her pocket, and she held it up palm out, stopping me mid-sentence. “I get that. Believe me I do. You can have my word for it—I am not out here for kicks and giggles. I have no idea what’s going on, but as you can imagine, I kind of have a vested interest too.” Her eyebrows shot up making her smooth forehead crease. It was a challenge.
We didn’t know if Triona had returned John’s memories of our true nature and what he witnessed at Tara. Maybe she was just hiding out here, letting him think she was a friend in need of somewhere to stay while she reassured herself he was safe.
“If I could—”
Emma shot me down again. She raised the same hand a second time and looked at it as she waggled her fingers. She opened her eyes wide. Apparently the earlier hand gesture had meant I shouldn’t argue with her. Amanda swallowed a chuckle, and I’d been properly put in my place.
“Look,” she started with an air of I’m-so-not-in-the-mood-for-this about her. “You look like the type of guy that can take care of himself, but believe me, you do not want to mess with my brother.”
“Why is that?” I asked curiously. Perhaps it was just the sudden icy blast of air gusting up the street, or the car that drove by slowly, its headlights sweeping across my face, but I felt taken out of the moment. There had to be another vital piece in this new puzzle. Was Triona avoiding me to conceal something else? Why had John sent his sister instead of coming out himself? I gulped, and my heart jumped from the adrenaline flooding through my system. Gut instinct caused all my senses to prick.
