by Brea Viragh
“What do you think you’ll do? What can any of you do? I hold the balance. And now I claim my prize!”
Karsia raised her arms to send her lightning lancing toward Orestes, who was tensed for battle with his own magic at the ready.
Calling on his inherent gifts, Morgan embraced his god-derived powers to halt the mess she’d started. He approached Karsia calmly but quickly, only a moment before she could unleash her curse, walking into the maelstrom that formed a vortex around her as if it were not there at all. “Enough.”
He reached out, touching her at the nape of her neck. Like a suddenly sleepy child, she collapsed, her power tapped out. Clouds dissipated. The maelstrom disappeared. The crackle of energy ceased and an unnatural silence filled the air.
CHAPTER 11
Morgan caught Karsia in his arms and watched as tree trunks returned to nothing among the ruined sidewalk. God, the street was a mess. It would take the city weeks to clean it if he chose not to act. He glanced down at the woman he held and shrugged. She was his problem. Not the city. It was beyond his capabilities and would have to be erased by someone with a different set of magic skills. There were those in the vicinity who would see to it—with a little convincing.
She weighed nothing, light as a feather. How could someone that skinny cause so much trouble?
He took her in, lines carved into her face that had not been there before. Even in sleep, trouble lay heavy on her.
“You’re going to be fine. Trust me,” he told her softly, shifting his shoulders until she rested easier. “It’s time for me to take control. You’ve run amok for too long. Nothing to see here, folks,” he stated for the crowd to hear.
The horrified masses scurried away from them. Not a scratch on most of them, Morgan was pleased to see. However Karsia had managed it, she’d kept the worst of her power centered on the street instead of the people. Kudos for that, at least.
“Absolutely nothing to see. Move along.”
It took him by surprise when a hand grabbed his shoulder. The arm attached to the hand whirled him around until the fellow filled his vision, a tall man with massive shoulders and close-cropped blond hair. Morgan was not upset when Karsia’s foot smacked into the man’s midsection.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Orestes asked, his saccharine voice as sweet as a lie.
“Excuse me?”
“I asked what you’re doing. She’s not going anywhere with you. The little bitch is coming back to the Claddium to pay for what she’s done. She’ll spend the rest of her life in the Vault, thanks to this little display.”
“I would think it obvious what I’m doing, sir.” Morgan shifted to adjust his glasses and quirked a brow. “I’m leaving and I’m taking Karsia with me.”
“You will kindly release the girl to our keeping and come with us for questioning. Sir.” Cold blue eyes stared at Morgan through a face like an immovable mountain. And about as far from trustworthy as a person could look. He shifted his voice until it was the perfect tenor of reason. Like they’d been friends for countless years. “I do not advise leaving. It’s not in your best interest.”
Yeah right, no way in hell would Morgan do anything of the sort. Everything about the stranger rubbed him raw and he’d made it a study to learn from first impressions. Whoever said to look beyond the cover of a book had not been raised with gods and goddesses on Mount Olympus.
“I’m sorry. Who might you be?”
“Who I am is not important. Your little girlfriend here destroyed half a city block and threatened the safety of everyone in a half-mile radius, and you’ve put yourself in a bad position.” Orestes scowled. “It is well within my right as a Claddium representative to exterminate both her and you where you stand. It is only by the grace of my generosity that we are having this conversation.”
“Your generosity could use a little bit of work.” Morgan stopped and stared the man up and down, from the tips of his handmade Italian leather loafers to the permanent scowl etched on his brow. This was a person obviously accustomed to using his power. For what, he could not say.
“And I’ll correct you on one important matter. She’s not my girlfriend, although the idea has crossed my mind.” Standing straight, the two were evenly matched in height, though Morgan may have an extra inch or two if it came down to specifics. If it came down to a brawl, he was certain to win. Especially if he shifted his form fast enough.
Clearing his throat, Morgan continued. “And since you haven’t given me the courtesy of answering my question, I’m not particularly inclined to do a damn thing you say. Death threat or not.”
Orestes’s eyes narrowed to small points. “Let me repeat. It is in your best interest…sir…to do as I say.”
“And it’s in your best interest, you malodorous abomination, to leave me alone.” Morgan had drawn on his deep well of history and literature for an interesting, albeit antiquated, insult that was sure to leave the man reeling. It disappointed him when the words rolled over his adversary with no visible reaction.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you go anywhere,” Orestes Voltaire countered. He folded his arms across his chest and drew himself up to full height.
Morgan scoffed. “You know, I’ve only been in Chicago for a grand total of five hours and already I’ve seen that the citizens lack any sense of propriety. You are a regular bunch of scum, let me tell you. Although you especially, you unutterably malignant reprobate, are the cream rising to the top of the scum heap. And what goes on inside your head at night…” Morgan shook his head. “Yes, I remember you. You’ve been dreaming about horrible things since you turned ten. It’s all I can do to stomach a visit to you every once in a while. I’ve mostly written you off as my brother’s problem.”
Now that he’d tuned in to the signature in front of him, Morgan recognized the man belonging to the dreams. Haunting, vicious things hidden beneath a thin veneer of honeyed bliss. It had been too long since the last time he visited Orestes and his unconscious. He hadn’t missed much, it seemed.
“You listen here—”
Orestes never had the opportunity to continue. In the span of an instant, enchantment flooded him and his minions at his back, and they all fell to the ground, eyes closed in an unnatural sleep.
Done.
“I’m surprised your mother never taught you any manners. She sure as hell tried, the poor woman,” Morgan told the prone form of Orestes. He nudged the torso with the tip of his foot and scowled. “Disgusting mortal.”
In another blink of an eye, the rest of the onlookers on the street drooped down in slumber. Morgan jerked his shoulders and sighed as magic flooded him. Yes, he had missed it, normally reserving it for the night. When he had a job to do.
Using it in the daylight felt sinfully good.
“None of you are getting good dreams tonight,” he admonished the Claddium. “I don’t give a hoot if it’s warranted or not.” Morgan turned on his heel and strode off.
A normal man would have trouble carrying a woman in his arms for so long. Morgan was no ordinary man. He’d have to remember to send his father a gift and thank him. It was one of the only times he was grateful to be half a god.
Thank goodness he’d been there for her meltdown. Karsia could have brought down the entire lakeside, not just the street, if someone hadn’t stopped her. Who knew she was capable of such ferocity? Extraordinary circumstances changed people. Brought out the beast. He didn’t blame her in the least for her feelings, but to have someone taint them, use them against her? He had no choice but to intervene.
Morgan found them a quiet place to relax. Rather, he found a back alley with a dumpster next to a grate of hot sewer billowing up in yellow plumes. It was high time he did a bit of digging outside the conventional means. Past time, more like. There was a certain person he needed to speak with and it would take some maneuvering to find her.
Somewhere in the depths of the infinite possibilities, Karsia lurked. The real her, the immortal essence of
who she was and ever would be.
“This will have to do. You and I are having a good, long talk. The sooner the better.” Morgan settled them both down with his back against the brick of a neighboring building. He cuddled Karsia close and rested his head, blocking out the cold. “Time to go find you, little girl.”
With that, Morgan closed his eyes and went hunting.
Walking in dreams was nothing like traversing the mortal realm. In dreams, there were infinite possibilities. Not forward or back, left or right, up or down. Planes stretched out in every direction imaginable. The subconscious was the ultimate form of expression. A blank canvas for worries and goals. Hopes and fears.
Thankfully, this land was his playground. He’d moved through it since his conception and been given dominion over it even with his mixed blood. Keeping his form the same, he searched the empty landscape. It would be easier for her to recognize him.
Her subconscious would remain in stasis—the blank canvas—until he took up his brush once more and painted images for her. There was no sound unless he willed it, no color until he decided it.
He’d come to better understand the nature of what possessed her. The creature who walked in darkness, the shadow he’d seen before and the she the Cavaldi sisters spoke about. This shadow spoke through Karsia’s mouth and stared through her eyes. It looked, acted, and thought through her. In some aspects, it was Karsia. A perverse and twisted version. Whatever lurked beneath the surface, whether it be an impossible spirit or ghost or god from the world of ancient magicks, it had pushed the essence of Karsia aside.
He did what any good sleuth would do: He followed the clues.
Morgan clipped along, allowing his footsteps to echo in the empty void. He stopped, hands on his hips. “This isn’t going to work.” He snapped his fingers and plush grass rose from the blankness. Overhead the sky turned blue and wispy white clouds burst to life. “Better.”
So he walked on.
It may have been minutes, perhaps hours, until he spotted a solitary figure standing in a meadow. That was how she should always look, he decided. Delicate, innocent, and surrounded by wildflowers, with the hint of golden sun adding depth to her wild hair. She’d lifted her face to the glow and absorbed it through her skin, a smile playing on her lips.
Morgan couldn’t help his reaction to her. And if he were honest, he didn’t want to help it. He felt a pull below his heart. It drew him forward, toward her, his reaction doubled in this plane of existence. Heightened from what had already begun to grow between them.
He found her attractive, though it went far beyond simply appreciating her beauty. It was a knowing. A recognition greater than words had the ability to express.
Undeniably, they were meant for each other.
Holy. Crap.
The great Morpheus. God of Dreams. Brought to his knees. Heart cleaved in two by a simple earth witch. He’d found his destiny staring at him from behind soulless black eyes.
The gravity of the moment stole his breath. He focused on his joy at finding her and pushed the weightier emotions aside.
When he finally spoke, his voice was a blast of sound. “Karsia!”
She turned swiftly, eyes impossibly large and swimming with tears despite the smile. Here she wore simple jeans and a t-shirt, whatever outfit she found most comfortable.
“Morgan?”
The tenderness, the vulnerability, shattered his already aching heart. “It’s me. Oh, you sweet, wonderful woman, it’s me.” Morgan let out a breath and shook his head.
To his surprise she ran to him, jumping into his arms and wrapping her hands around his neck.
Breathing her in, Morgan took her in his embrace and lifted her feet off the ground. She felt impossibly good. This was the woman he’d seen only in glimpses. The impossibly cheerful golden girl of the Chicago streets.
“I don’t know how this is possible. But I’m glad you’re here!” She tightened her hold infinitesimally, breathing him into her lungs. “So glad you’re here. You have no idea.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t want to see me after everything that’s happened.” He tightened his grip once before releasing her. She slid down the front of his body until his heart quickened and his groin tightened. Inappropriate, he admonished himself, and willed his nether regions to stand down. “Before we say anything else,” he told her, “you have to know that none of this was your fault. Whatever happened and whatever will happen, you are not to blame.”
“I have no magic to heal my mother,” she began, voice cracking. “And those people I hurt—”
“Shh.” He ran a hand down the length of her hair. “Try not to focus on it.”
“How can I not? I’m stuck in this prison of my own making, watching from inside and unable to do anything.” Karsia gestured around vaguely. “I almost destroyed everything. Everyone. Worse, I thought it was a good idea.” She burrowed her face into his neck and Morgan felt the sting of moisture there. “I would have brought a war down on my family’s shoulders if you hadn’t shown up.”
“I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Morgan continued. “Sometimes bad things happen to good people. I have to believe, no matter what is going on inside of you, you are still a good person and would not have gone through with it unless under extreme duress.”
“Then you’re blind,” she said, but there was no heat in her tone. Only remorse.
He continued the embrace as he casually changed the setting. Something to put her at ease, he determined, searching for some nugget of information from her mind. Eventually he grasped onto a memory, a sliver of something from her childhood that had brought her absolute joy. Yes, Italy it was, then.
The blank space filled with life, trees and flowers blooming on a hillside gently rolling down to the sea. He brought up the color on the leaves, played with sights and sounds and textures until the landscape flourished and became real.
Inherently, he knew what she would like and what she’d want to see. Morgan built that world for her. He added a light fragrance to the air. The continuous sound of waves on the pebbled beach below filled the silence, coupled with the chirps of birds and a ubiquitous warm breeze.
Morgan set Karsia down and stood back to stare at her. Had he ever seen anyone so beautiful? She was classic, timeless, with impossibly vulnerable eyes and lips like plump ripe cherries.
“You recognize me?”
“Sure I do.” She sniffled.
“How much…do you remember? Do you remember meeting me?”
“A little,” she admitted. “I get bits and pieces sometimes. I know you smiled at me, when you shook my hand.” She held her hand up and wiggled her fingers. “Then…the car. You drove me home. Then finding out about my mom.”
“Anything else?” Morgan pressed.
There was a long pause, then she shook her head. “No. Nothing. Just a blank.”
“Hey, don’t cry. Wipe those tears away,” he said softly, using the pads of his thumbs to do just that. Proprietarily. He told himself not to be surprised when she let him touch her. When she leaned closer.
Karsia placed her palm over his to connect them. “I can’t. I feel like I’ll never stop crying. I’m a monster, Morgan. How can you bear to be here with me? Did I bribe you with something? Is that why you’re helping me?”
“No, you didn’t bribe me. And you’re not a monster. Do you remember what I said about negative thoughts? No, probably not,” he said with a soft chuckle. “You have to try to be positive. I know it’s hard.” He kept a smile on his face to keep her calm, when the gesture felt forced. “Your mother wouldn’t want you to hurt like this.”
“You don’t know my mother.” Karsia used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe her nose. “But she would like you. All your handsome sensuality wrapped up in a scholarly package. She would have sat you down at the dinner table and tried to convince you she made the food, when in reality the woman burns everything. At least there you have something in common.”
Beneath them, a
soft blanket rolled out over the grass and provided a cushion for them to lounge. It took only a thought and less effort than lifting a finger. He drew her down until they sat together. “She sounds like a nice lady.”
“She is.” Karsia’s face dropped. She glanced around, feeling the heat of the sun and trying to shift her focus to something, anything else. She didn’t bother to sigh. There were too many things to think about and none solved with a single great exhale. “What is this place?”
“Somewhere I thought you would like.” Wildflowers bloomed in a rainbow of colors, as many varieties and subspecies as there were people on the planet. “But it can be anything you want it to be. I thought the sound of the sea would be a balm. It certainly works for me.”
“It’s beautiful. Thank you. It feels like forever since I’ve seen the sun.” To her it meant he was trying, trying harder than most men would in his position. She hadn’t expected the carefully crafted details in his vision. The individual blades of grass were meticulous. He was a man who cared about others and their feelings, when she did not understand why he found himself personally invested. Still, she applauded him for his intentions.
“This would be the perfect place for a picnic. Can you conjure something? Nothing edible, unless you think it will help.”
He snapped his fingers and two gelato cones appeared in his palm. He handed one to her. Felt her laugh deep inside. “You know I won’t be able to stay for long,” Morgan said, hating to be the one to break the bad news.
Her lips twitched as she stared at the gelato. “Of course. There are more important things for you to do than babysit me.” Karsia shook her head to clear any bad thoughts and, with tears still rolling down her cheeks, held out her free hand. “I don’t believe we’ve ever had a proper introduction. I’m Karsia Cavaldi. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Morgan chuckled at the hastily constructed scene. “Morgan Gauthier. And the pleasure is mine, my lady.” He brought her knuckles to his lips and, unwilling to hold back any longer, placed a kiss on each one.
