Lindsay took another step back and tripped. Lucian reached out to grab her arm and break her fall, but she twisted away from him. She sat down hard and looked up at him. “Is she telling the truth? Did you kill somebody?”
“I did.”
“Oh, God,” Lindsay whispered.
“Tell me where you are, Lindsay.” Catarina’s spirit drifted forward, and Lindsay pushed herself backward. Catarina halted. “Not everything he told you was a lie. You were drawn to him, and he is your Elder, damaged though he is. I know you’re trying to understand your attachment to Lucian. These first days are so hard for foundlings. If you help me bring my poor brother home, you may stay with us. I will dress you like a princess and give you everything you could possibly desire. Have you seen a tree, a house, something you can describe to me so my men can find you?”
Lucian wanted nothing more than to let the child see his heart and know he meant her no harm, but he couldn’t manipulate Lindsay’s decision. Either she would choose to follow her Elder or she would choose the easier path of the Fallen. Whichever road she desired, the decision had to be hers and hers alone. If he influenced her as he had Catarina, then he would always doubt Lindsay’s allegiance to the Citadel.
Lindsay sat on the ground, her gaze flickering from Lucian to Catarina. She was overwhelmed; Lucian saw it in her tears, and his heart was moved with pity. He said, “You owe me no loyalty. If you want to tell her where you are, go ahead. I just ask that you wait until dawn. That will give me time to be away. Will you do that for me, Lindsay?”
“Tell me now, Lindsay.” Catarina’s image shimmered with her eagerness and she leaned over the child.
Lindsay evaluated first Catarina, then Lucian, measuring each twin with her gaze. Her left eye narrowed at Catarina. Lindsay wiped her eyes and stood to take Lucian’s hand. “I’m staying with you. I don’t think you’re crazy.” She whispered, “I didn’t think Hell was amusing.”
Lucian wanted to weep for joy; his respite was short.
Catarina’s shriek filled the night. “You’ll tell me where you are, bitch-child!”
Lindsay screamed. “Stop it! Lucian! Make it stop!” She doubled over and pulled at her hair. The band that held her ponytail in place snapped free, and her pale locks tumbled around her face. She yanked handfuls of hair from her scalp. White strands floated to the ground in an ashen heap. Lucian dropped his cane and grabbed her so he could hold her with both hands. Wild with pain, she tried to twist away from him, but he kept his grip.
Lindsay didn’t know how to shield herself, and Catarina intended to seize the information from the girl’s mind. Lucian had been the victim of his twin’s attacks in the past, but Catarina always needed Cerberus to aid her in defeating Lucian’s defenses.
As he had in Hell, he concentrated on Lindsay’s mind until he felt his soul connect with hers. This time, she was aware of his presence in her mind. He startled her with the intimacy of his thoughts, but she didn’t resist him. Under normal circumstances, an Elder and foundling would use an opportunity like this to cement their attachment to one another.
Yet these weren’t normal circumstances, and he would not remain her Elder. He had no choice. Catarina would kill the child. Lucian shielded Lindsay from Catarina’s assault then turned on his sister.
He had no time to mourn his neglect of prayer. He scoured his memory for a Psalm of protection. Yet the only one he could recall was the Psalm Rachael used whenever she was threatened. “‘I cry aloud to—’”
Scalded by his words, Catarina fled from Lindsay’s mind. “God damn you—”
“—‘that he may hear me.’”
“—Lucian, don’t you dare pray against me!”
Free of his twin’s control, Lindsay sagged against him. Sobs racked her body.
Catarina’s image wavered. “Is this how you treat me after all I’ve done for you? You pray against your own flesh and blood for the sake of a stranger! Is this how you repay my benevolence? You offend me with your ingratitude.”
Oh, dear God, but isn’t that grand? He offended her. He wasn’t prepared for the rage that surged through his chest and flushed his face like a lightning flash.
Suddenly, his head rocked and he staggered beneath the pain shattering his mind. His heart hammered against his ribs as if it could escape its prison of blood and bone. Before he could recover himself, Catarina shot another blow to his mind that was the equivalent to a punch in the face. He barely shielded the child from the brunt of his twin’s attacks.
“Lucian!” Lindsay’s cry penetrated his agony.
“Lucian!” Catarina’s mocking voice echoed. “Silence! Or I’ll break you!”
The agony in his head blinded him, and he lost precious moments struggling out of the pain. When the encampment swam back into focus, he raised his head and locked his attention on his twin. “‘In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord—’”
Catarina flinched and screamed. “You will come home to me now!” Weeping wrath, she pointed one shaking finger at him. “Do not estrange yourself from me, brother. I am all that stands between you and suffering. Do not make that third pronouncement.”
“No more!” His voice thundered through the pre-dawn silence, and her features contorted as she shrieked herself back to her warm rooms.
In her absence, nothing stirred. Woerld was silent and the wood not so dark now that death had passed them over. Still, he couldn’t slow his pounding heart nor rid himself of the rancid taste of…
†
Fear soured Rachael’s mouth, almost bringing her to wakefulness before her dreams drowned her in slumber. On her blanket before the small campfire, she moaned in her sleep as Lucian’s terror bumped against her breast. She felt his heart pound; the same heart that had once beat in time with her own. His vulnerability disturbed her, for the Draconian prince she had known never felt so trivial an emotion as fear.
…no more, no more, no more…
We were done long ago, long before this dawn when he denied his sister three times. We are done, Lucian.
Through space and time, his answer drifted soft as ashes, I understand.
Then the fragile link severed and Lucian was gone from her. She wasn’t prepared for the vast emptiness he left in his wake. The darkness his presence held at bay came rushing down on her, engulfing her in a misery deepened by his absence. The Wyrm scratched against the back of her mind, rapping, tapping, seeking a way into her so it could use her for its own, but she cried aloud to God and drove the Wyrm back.
Tossing restlessly, she dreamed Lucian standing before her. She was drenched in blood and thrust her crimson hands forward, her life pooling at her feet. I can’t make it stop, she said as a fly whined past her face.
In the sky, a great dark cloud boiled on the horizon. Thunder reached the crescendo of a sonic boom. It was coming, hidden in the cloud, something huge, coming straight for Lucian. Her breath came in short bursts. She held up her hand, palm out to the blackness bearing down on them.
no no No No No. “No!” She sat up on the cool ground of their campsite, her arm outstretched like it had been in her dream. She felt Lucian’s presence return, nothing more than the faintest sense of his consciousness touching hers, but there with her.
Rachael.
Just her name and nothing more, because he had never called her Rae like the others. He always said her whole name as if he loved the feel of it in his mouth.
Rachael.
Just her name. Then he was gone from her again and so was her fear.
Someone took her wrist and she bit a scream to silence.
“Rae?”
In the small encampment, shapes became clearer in the pre-dawn light that hedged the shadows clinging to her awareness. Focusing on the coals of the fire she and Caleb had allowed themselves, she tried to bring herself back to reality.
“I’m here for you, Rae.” Caleb’s voice dispersed the last of her dream.
He was beside her, close enough to kiss, and for one w
ild instant, Rachael expected him to brush his lips against hers. An image abruptly flashed through her brain, and she saw herself with Caleb. They were in her bed naked, straining against one another. He kneaded her breast with one greedy hand and pinched her nipple between his finger and thumb. She clawed his back and bit his shoulder; her hips rising to meet his thrusts as he pushed himself deeper into her. As suddenly as it had begun, the image was gone.
Rachael shuddered. Where had that picture come from? “All right.” Her voice was thick with unshed cries and the Wyrm snaked forward. She sent it scurrying. I cry aloud… oh, God… I cry. “It’s all right,” she said.
He nodded but didn’t let her go. She extracted herself from his grip; she didn’t want him touching her. He frowned like he read her mind and sensed her loathing. She shook off the idea. Caleb’s talents were moderate at best. He excelled in sensing the presence of others, but he didn’t have the ability to discern their thoughts. Only those with the greater talents could actually hear the thoughts of others.
“Lucian is on the move,” she said to break the uneasy silence. “He’s coming south with the foundling. Catarina wants him home to her. He’s denied her three times.”
Caleb blanched at Lucian’s name. “How do you know all that?”
“I drift.” Lucian’s word: drifting. That’s what he called the surreal experience of moving between dreams and realities during sleep. “There was a disturbance in the Wasteland last night.”
He gazed into the fields again. “The two of you always were too close.”
“He was shielding the foundling from Catarina.”
Caleb snorted a laugh and rose. He walked to the fire and kicked the dirt more violently than necessary to cover the smoldering coals. “We haven’t even reached him and he’s already started to deceive you.”
“There was no deception. He was protecting the foundling.”
“That’s what he wants you to think.”
Rachael got up and grabbed her saddle. “I’m a judge, Caleb.”
“You were a judge when he deceived you the first time.”
She choked on her rage and turned on him. His back was to her so he didn’t see her scowl. She said, “Which means I’m watching him closely now.”
“Are you really?” He threw the saddle blanket onto his mount and the mare danced away from him. He soothed the horse with a touch.
Her tone turned deadly. “I’m watching everyone, Caleb.” And that includes you, my good friend.
He froze then calmly pulled the saddle’s cinch into place. “I’m on your side, Rae. You know that.”
Do I?
“After all we’ve been through, you should know that.”
“But I’m deceived so easily.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He turned to face her. “Lucian is complicit with the Fallen, and he has Mastema’s gift for lies. That’s how he deceived John, Reynard, me, you. All of us, Rae, he deceived all of us. He’s dangerous and he’ll use your feelings for him against you. That’s how the Fallen win. They turn your greatest weakness against you.”
She didn’t like the fear she saw in his eyes, not at all. Yet it wasn’t Lucian that Caleb feared. There was something else, something deeper and the truth eluded her. It had something to do with Tanith. Tanith tried to warn her, but Rachael couldn’t recall the older woman’s exact words. They had stood close together in the courtyard, whispering so no one would hear, and Tanith said—
“Rae? Are you okay?”
Rachael started and realized Caleb was ready to go; she hadn’t begun to saddle Ignatius. “I’m fine.” She got to work and finished quickly. What was wrong with her? She couldn’t remember a conversation from three days ago, but her past with Lucian remained clear as day.
Caleb didn’t pursue their discussion as they took to the road, and she didn’t encourage any more talk. She’d had enough barren words to last her a lifetime.
The fields surrounding them were coming to life with farmers and their families working diligently to bring in the harvest. She envied them their normalcy and their easy companionship.
Ignatius trotted effortlessly on the good road, and the Wyrm receded with the strengthening sun. Yet she still couldn’t resurrect Tanith’s words. All her mind conjured was the image of Lucian comforting the foundling. He appeared ragged and broken with his tattered dignity drawn around him like a cerecloth.
Catarina was absent from his side and now Rachael understood why: Lucian ran from his sister as fast as his disabled body would allow. This morning’s dream had solidified her suspicions that something had broken between the twins.
The recollection of Lucian’s haunted eyes moved her heart to a pity she couldn’t afford. Yet there was something else, something Rachael could only feel, a desire he guarded jealously, and it had to do with her.
She thought she heard him say he was sorry.
Or maybe that, too, was white noise blowing in the background; words as sterile as the loneliness engulfing her life. The deed was done and though time had not healed her, she had reconciled herself to her emptiness.
His remorse shouldn’t matter to her one way or another.
But it did.
CHAPTER SEVEN
melasur
Lindsay buried her face in Lucian’s shirt; her ears rang, drowning any sound other than the steady thump of Lucian’s heart against her ear. Her head throbbed and she tasted blood on her upper lip. She closed her eyes and tried to pretend that Lucian was Pete. Her dad always pushed her away and told her to stop whining, but Pete rocked her and called her his tough girl and promised to make her pain go away. Pete always made her feel safe.
Lindsay opened her eyes. After a spate of dizziness, she focused on the threads of space mangled by Catarina’s departing spirit. Yesterday, everything seemed like an adventure, like stepping through the wardrobe or falling through the looking glass, but Catarina’s attack had turned Woerld ugly. The air crackled with static like a disrupted television signal before it eventually solidified into the terrain she remembered seeing last night.
Lucian’s large hand rested lightly on her brow and she felt the warmth of his concern. His magic thrummed through her body with a pleasant tingling sensation. Any doubts she had about his intentions disappeared when she saw his commitment to protecting her. She didn’t know how to shield her mind against him, but right now she didn’t want to push him away.
Immersed in his memories, she saw portions of his life. Though he prevented her from witnessing the worst of the horrors he’d experienced, she saw enough to fear his twin. Catarina didn’t love him. She fed on his soul like some psychic vampire and forced him to heal her every ache. When he didn’t do what she wanted, she hurt him like she had just now.
Lindsay felt a brief surge of confidence. She’d made the right decision by keeping their location hidden. She just wished she knew how to keep Catarina from hurting her again.
“I will teach you how to keep yourself safe.” Lucian’s soft baritone thrummed past her headache. “Imagine a wall around you, Lindsay.”
She squeezed her eyes shut until stars danced behind her lids. Lindsay imagined a glass dome.
“That’s very good. Make it strong and hard. Can you do that?”
Bulletproof, she made it bulletproof so anything that hit her wall bounced off.
“Now make it so no one can see inside you.”
Lindsay imagined the wall was opaque like the tinted glass on her dad’s SUV; she could see out, but no one could see inside. Not even Lucian. Surprised, she whispered, “It worked.”
He didn’t answer and she looked up. He remained still with his eyes closed. He tilted his head like he was listening to some sound only he could hear. Lindsay lowered her glass wall and heard him call out Rachael’s name, but his lips didn’t move.
He had spoken, she was sure of it. Not with his voice, she realized, but with his heart. He’s talking to her with his heart, because he loves her and he’s afraid.
&n
bsp; Faintly—and here Lindsay closed her eyes and listened intently—but very faintly, she heard Rachael’s reply. Rachael told him they were done, and Lucian fled her jagged grief, unable to bear his shame.
Lucian shielded his mind against Lindsay, and she missed the comfort of his presence. Their encampment swam before her vision; a thick fog obscured the trees. Lindsay blinked; her dizziness was back. “Lucian? I don’t feel so good.”
“Rest. Another minute. It will pass.” He slurred his words as if he was drunk.
But he’s not. He didn’t smell like her dad did when he was drunk and he wasn’t mean. No, he was hurt, worse than her. “What happened?”
“My sister—” He released her and withdrew a handkerchief from his sleeve. “—has become more powerful.”
Fear bit into Lindsay’s heart. The ringing in her ears was starting to fade, but her head was still pounding. She helped him stand. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
“I will be.” He leaned on his cane, his head bowed. When he wiped his face, the cloth came away red. A crimson tear slipped from his eye.
“Jeez, Lucian, you’re bleeding!” She hated the way her panic drove her voice up two octaves, but she had no idea what to do if he got sick. There were no hospitals here, no ambulances. The realization of their helplessness dropped ten pounds of ice into her stomach. She wished Pete were here. He’d know what to do.
“I’m all right.” Daubing another bloody tear, he gave her a wan smile that did nothing to reassure her. “Whenever the Fallen attack a Katharos, it causes us to bleed, often from the eyes. If the attack is severe then from the ears or nose.”
She remembered her first aid class at school and how their teacher warned them never to move someone with a head injury. There hadn’t been anything about bloody tears, but bleeding from the ears or nose could mean a concussion.
“Like a concussion?” Even as the words left her mouth, she felt stupid. God, why was she always saying stupid things?
Miserere: An Autumn Tale Page 11
