by Noelle Ryan
“We should kill him as soon as possible to prevent the elf from interfering again,” Tom said, and I felt faintly sick at how casually he proposed Cesar’s murder. A week ago I never would have considered dating someone who discussed murder at all, much less considered it so easily, as a simple practical solution.
You really feel that way, Tom countered, even with everything he’s done? To Joseph? To Ava?
What’s wrong with incarceration? I replied.
And how long, exactly, do you incarcerate an immortal? Especially one with a pass to Faerie?
That was an ethical dilemma I felt ill-equipped to handle right now, and then I realized that everyone else was nodding—except for Damian. He had a look of distaste on his face, as if he’d just been forced to swallow something revolting but couldn’t spit it up for fear of offense. Was it possible he also disapproved of killing Cesar in cold blood? Was he the reason almost all of Cesar’s family had been immobilized rather than killed during the fights that had occurred this past week?
“Once we are out of sight of any human eyes, kill him,” Marcus agreed. The look on Damian’s face intensified for just a split second and then disappeared, his features once again neutral and seemingly calm.
“Samuel, you will land the plane as soon as you can after Cesar’s lands, so that we might depart as quickly as possible,” Marcus continued. Sam nodded. “If anyone sees or senses,” Marcus flicked his eyes at me “any sign of the elf then do not wait for the perfect time to kill Cesar—do it immediately, regardless of the number of humans watching. His death will break their bond, and willing a few humans into forgetfulness will be far easier than resisting her magic. Do not try to attack her directly. Understood?”
Everyone nodded again, complacently, but I was confused.
“I’m sorry to be the only ignorant one here, but why does she pose such a threat?” I asked. “She didn’t seem interested in harming me when I saw her before, and she seemed exhausted to boot. Plus, if she draws on tranquility, wouldn’t she be harming herself to induce terror and pain in us?”
Marcus rolled his eyes, but Damian leaned forward as if I had asked a very interesting question.
“Normally she would not pose a threat to us; you have that right Alyson. But we must assume that the nature of her bond with Cesar involves a commitment to protect him—that, presumably, is why she transported his unconscious body into Faerie when we attacked before, despite the massive energy cost. The Light Elves do not enjoy violence, but their magic is very strong and they are perfectly capable of committing immense violence when threatened—and the bond would turn this into a threat she would be forced to defend Cesar against.”
“Why wouldn’t she just teleport him again instead of fighting us?”
“If one of us is in physical contact with him, she cannot—at least not without taking that person too, and that would tax her too greatly.”
I wanted to ask Damian what would happen to their bond if we simply told her we now had the horn, but since Marcus was there I couldn’t. It pissed me off too, because it seemed like it could be a way around the danger Marielle apparently presented and the need to murder Cesar. If she made an appearance, and I had the opportunity to do so out of Marcus, Jade, and Orchid’s hearing range, I resolved to tell her. I wouldn’t be the one holding Cesar, so hopefully I wouldn’t be a threat she’d feel the need to attack.
That’s too risky Aly, Tom told me, sounding angry. We’ll all be safe once Cesar is dead, and the bastard deserves it. Why risk Marielle hurting you to protect him?
I don’t think she will hurt me, and for all we know she’ll go nuts when he’s dead—she’s desperate for that horn, remember? If we kill her only link to it, she might not disappear as readily as everyone seems to think she will. I paused. And you can think I’m a wimp if you want, but I just don’t feel comfortable at the idea of whisking into an airport with the intention of killing someone.
So you’d want me to do what if he came charging towards you, hmm? Tom’s tone was nasty, sharp, and beginning to fade as my anger rose. Nicely ask him to please leave you alone?
Screw you, Tom. I replied, and then instantly regretted swearing at him. I was still too angry to apologize though, and our mental connection had been snapped already, leaving me to stew alone in my thoughts. I couldn’t believe he’d willfully misunderstand me that way, and blur the line between self-defense and cold-blooded murder as if the distinction didn’t matter in the least. They were going to kill him out of a combination of vengeance and practicality, and still risk all of us getting killed by depriving Marielle of the thing she most wanted in the world.
And then I doubled over. Dorothy was back.
Twenty-seven
The elf—she’s here, and I think she senses that something is wrong, Dorothy said, and it was the first time she’d sounded worried in any of our conversations.
An idea struck me. Can you communicate with her?
I have no idea. She sounded surprised. Why would you want me to, though?
I quickly caught Dorothy up on the horn and how Damian and Valerie were keeping it secret from Marcus, Jade, and Orchid.
Who knows, I finished, she might even help us capture him if she knows we have the horn, if that allows her to break her bond with him. And Valerie already said she’d be willing to share with her if it came to that.
I could tell Dorothy wasn’t wild about the idea, but she agreed to try. As the cramps faded and I tuned back in to everything around me, I realized I’d need to offer some kind of explanation for my fugue. Given what a terrible liar I was, a half-truth was my only option.
“Marielle is here.”
Marcus swore softly, and Damian’s features froze—perhaps considering how his wife was in the airport with a very powerful elf who was desperate to bear children. He would know better than almost anyone the kind of effect that desperation could have on someone’s behavior. I suddenly wished that my telepathic link with Tom could extend to Damian just for a few moments, so that I could tell him why I planned to tell Marielle about the horn.
“Everyone off the plane—we need to get it in the air immediately. Try to keep your emotions as neutral as possible in the airport so the elf doesn’t sense you—and stay as far from her as you can,” Marcus said. Tom and Luis stood and left immediately, but Damian hesitated, pinning me with a look.
“Alyson should stay on the plane with Samuel,” Damian said. “She doesn’t know how to fight; she’ll just pose a liability to our operation.”
I stared at him, now even more desperate in my wish for that telepathic connection. If Dorothy couldn’t communicate with Marielle then it was essential I do it. My fear had turned into a full-blown conviction that if we didn’t let her know she could still get access to the horn, she would attack us all. Before I could muster up a believable lie as to why I had to be with them, however, Marcus stepped in.
“I know it grates against your oath, Damian, but you’ll have to accept the risk” he said. “We need her with us. She has already proven invaluable, and her gift could prove crucial to our success.”
I nodded, relieved that Marcus had spared me the trouble of lying. Damian’s face tightened, but before he could vocalize his protest I jumped up and left the plane, joining Tom at the bottom of the stairs.
Damian’s right—you should have stayed on the plane, Tom told me the second I stepped foot on the concrete.
And what if Marcus is right, and I have another episode that makes the difference between all of us leaving here unharmed or not? I asked. Besides, I need to try to get close to Marielle. Dorothy doesn’t think she’ll be able to communicate with her.
Fine. But don’t you dare complain about your privacy—I’ll be in your head every second until this is all done. You tune out when you’re sensing things; you need someone to watch out for you.
Agreed, I said, shivering slightly. I was not eager to tune out for a few seconds and never have the opportunity to tune back in again. Will
you help me lose Marcus and Damian, though, so I can try to approach Marielle?
Damian’s going to have my hide for this later, he grumbled, but he escorted me inside faster than I could have managed on my own, before Damian or Marcus had even emerged from the plane. Then he made a beeline for the nearest women’s restroom and stopped outside the door.
I’ll tell them that I told you to hide in here until we were ready to leave, so that you could be close enough to warn us but out of the way of any action.
Won’t Damian be able to tell you’re lying to him?
No, because I am telling you to do that. He stared at me, his face a mixture of amusement and tenderness. That you’ll choose to ignore me is, unfortunately, something I can’t do anything about.
I stepped closer to kiss him, quickly but deeply, and then darted off before Damian and Marcus could enter. The part of my brain that had watched too many movies was melodramatically mooning over the possibility that it could be our last kiss, but I tried to ignore it, focusing on the hope that finding Marielle would make that thought completely absurd.
In stretches where there were no humans to notice I allowed myself to move with vampiric quickness, but the airport was quickly filling with a steady trickle of people and it forced me to confine myself to normal speeds. Thirty minutes later, I’d covered most of the airport without the slightest hint of Marielle, and my anxiety levels were building.
Then Tom’s plan sparked a related idea, and I stepped into the nearest women’s bathroom and locked myself in a stall. I was pleasantly surprised to find it was extremely clean, and I sat down on the toilet so that I wouldn’t collapse if I succeeded in calling Dorothy again.
This time I only had to think her name a few times and she was there. I also noticed that the cramping wasn’t as bad this time, and I wondered if my body was finally starting to adjust to this ability.
Probably, Dorothy agreed, reminding me that I did have an audience.
Did you find her again? Could you tell her? I asked, unconsciously crossing my fingers.
Yes and no. She can feel me, and feel that I wish her no harm, but she only has the traditional empathic abilities of all elves, and no telepathy to hear me by.
Can you tell me how to find her then? I need to tell her before Cesar lands.
Are you sure this is a safe idea? You have no way of knowing the extent of their bond, or what she has promised. Even if she doesn’t want to hurt you, there is no way to be certain she won’t have to do so.
I would be lying if I said Dorothy’s point didn’t send a thrill of electric fear running across my skin. But as much as I knew she might be right, I was also certain this was our best chance at capturing Cesar safely.
I have to try, I said, while the melodramatic, overly-movie-exposed portion of my brain pointed out how much those sounded like famous last words. Shut UP! I snapped.
Dorothy, rather than being offended, just laughed.
You are definitely kin to me, she said, still chuckling. Wait here. I think it will be easier to bring her to you than you to her. Her empathy will be enough to allow me to lead her here, and hopefully sensing my goodwill will make her less likely to lash out at you from sheer surprise. I only pray that will be enough.
After Dorothy left, I sat alone in my stall, leaving the door locked and trying to calm my nerves. I wondered if Tom was close enough to hear my thoughts still, and if he was amused to discover that I was taking his suggestion of hiding in a bathroom, even if it wasn’t the one he was guarding. I considered actively reaching out to him, but then I realized that Marielle’s empathy would make that a bad idea. It was important to feel calm right now, to show Marielle I intended her help rather than harm, and getting in touch with Tom would only make me nervous.
I stood and stretched, rolling my neck and shoulders to help me relax. I’d just succeeded in quieting my thoughts when I heard the soft shush of the bathroom door opening.
“Alyson?” I recognized Marielle’s voice; she sounded surprised, and slightly wary. I unlocked my stall and stepped out, my hands loose and open by my side.
“How did you bring me here? What was that I felt drawing me?” she asked.
“My great-grandmother’s spirit,” I said, wondering if I was a fool for being so open with her when I was guarding my secret so carefully from everyone else but Tom. She must have felt something of what I was revealing to her, how I was trusting her, though, because she relaxed slightly, and some of the wariness in her tone was replaced with concern.
“Once Cesar has you he will kill Ava, not release her. You should not give yourself up to him,” she said softly. “Turning yourself in to me will not allow me to protect either of you, though it is a wiser plan than approaching him directly. I will not hold you. Go before he lands.”
“That’s not why I’m here,” I said, and her delicate brow rose slightly.
“It’s not?”
“I know Cesar has promised you the Sringara, and I know where it is. You can break your bond with him.”
She looked surprised for only a moment, and then a brief series of other emotions flashed across her face; I caught hope, and sadness, and a few others I could not name.
“He only fears my discovery of it because he doesn’t trust our bond. I cannot break it that easily. Not unless…” she paused, and glanced sharply at me. “Did you move it?”
“Yes, it is with—”
She cut me off.
“Shh, don’t tell me, it’s essential I do not know the specifics. Just tell me this: is there any way for Cesar to know of its exact location now?”
Her question reminded me of Damian and Valerie’s hypothesis about why Cesar would leave us to find the horn rather than Temora’s people.
“Generally, yes. But I don’t think there’s any way he could know the details.”
A slow, gorgeous smile spread across her face, stunning me with its beauty. I suddenly understood why elves would figure in human myths and stories for centuries—nothing could erase the sudden miracle of that kind of beauty, not even the passing of countless generations.
“Then there is hope.” Her expression suddenly sobered again, and I felt the loss of her smile like a punch; if I’d still needed to breathe I would have been gasping for air. “Still, it’s not safe for you. If you are wrong our bond will stand, and if he directly orders me to protect him by securing you, I will not be able to say no. You must leave.”
“And Ava?”
“There is nothing I can do for her; I’m sorry.” I believed her. She looked genuinely sad, almost heart-breakingly so, and I wondered how she was surviving the emotional torment that surrounded Cesar without the tree we’d found in his house.
“Then I can’t leave. She’s my friend.”
“We will have to hope you are right about Cesar then. Can I at least convince you to stay out of sight until I know?” she asked.
“I will, but there are other vampires here, some of whom don’t know about the horn. And only one of them knows I came to find you. They will try to seize Cesar as soon as he enters the airport. They plan to kill him as quickly as possible in the hopes that will break your bond.”
She laughed, but it was not a pleasant laugh—it sent chills running down my spine.
“Idiots. I am bound to vengeance as well as protection. And now that I know the threat they pose, I am obliged to prevent it.”
I froze in shock and fear. Had I just written all our death warrants out of misguided trust? I’d just begun congratulating myself on finding her, telling her, too. As a literature professor, I, of all people, should have known precisely what happened to those burdened by hubris.
Apparently, my fear caught Tom’s attention; answering my earlier question of whether he was near enough to hear me.
What’s happened? Where are you?
I’m with Marielle—her bond calls for vengeance as well as protection—if we kill Cesar she is obliged to kill us. But now that she knows of the plan to kill him, sh
e’s obliged to protect him first.
You told her we planned to kill him? I thought you were just planning to tell her about the horn? The implied judgment in his question caused anger to flash through me so hot and quick that I instantly lost contact with him. And then that anger faded, replaced by depression at how right he was to judge me. Hadn’t I just been thinking the same thing? I’d been an idiot—a naive, prideful idiot no less.
No you haven’t Aly. You were right, after all. If we’d killed Cesar it only would have signed our death-warrants, and no-one thought about that besides you. Tom was back, sounding soothing and concerned, but I could barely register his presence. I was too busy drowning in self-pity.
“Stop,” Marielle gasped. “We’ll find a way around it. Just please stop.”
I looked up from the crouch I’d unconsciously sunk into. She stood stiffly erect, her arms tightly crossed and clasping each other as if warding herself, her eyes filled with pain. Curiosity edged into my despair, and I stood slowly, watching her arms just barely relax.
“My emotions have that much of an effect on you? How on earth can you function if that’s the case?”
“You are an unusually strong projector, and I am unusually susceptible with the loss of my tree and constant exposure to Cesar,” she said, her voice slowly returning to normal as my despair lifted further. “I only hope this works. I do not think I could survive several more years with Cesar if he were to capture you and leave you that miserable all the time.”
“You only hope what works?” I asked.
“There are other ways to neutralize the threat to Cesar besides killing your companions. But it will require you to be my hostage.”
“Your hostage? But I thought you wanted me to hide,” I said, ignoring the sudden clamor Tom was making in my head, demanding to know where I was so he could rescue me from her. I knew I had to work with her if I was going to keep everyone safe, even if I didn’t understand how yet.
