“Hey, it was my pleasure. I thank you, for saving my life.” Aorin stood up and bowed. “My family also thanks you.”
She stared at the sleeping baby that was strapped to Cord’s back in the baby sling as they walked off. She was so jealous of that baby.
“You know…” she said impulsively. They stopped and looked back at her. “I wouldn’t hurt to check with Heron, just in case.”
“Do you know how we can get a hold of him?”
“I can find out.”
Well, she could always sleep tomorrow night.
Chapter 42
It was chilly in the gray fog. The fog knew this because the girl who moved through it felt like a walking flame. Feverishly, she rubbed her arms to rid herself of the goosebumps and blew her hot breath onto her hands. The fog didn’t usually pay attention to such things; it was usually content to just be, but the girl was something it hadn’t seen before in that place so it was curious.
Curiously enough, it hadn’t known that it could be curious until just then. In the back of what little of its mind still functioned, it wondered what else it could be, since the curious thing was pretty exciting.
It pressed in on her, brushing up against what skin she left exposed, hovering around her face, standing in her way so she had to squint to see through him.
So warm. And soft, he noticed, boldly touching her hair. Part of him was changed by her heat, and broke away from him: tiny dewdrops that sparkled in the silky brown waves. He stared at them, the little rebellious pieces of himself that preferred death by her side to an endless existence with him. Then he noticed more and more of himself doing the same thing; they clung to her skin, her eyelashes, her lips. Disconcerted, he pulled away to watch the dangerous woman from a safer distance.
Since the fog had thinned out around her, she was able to see the man who had been sitting just a short distance away. He stood and turned toward her, taking a few steps and opening his arms to welcome her.
The man, who had been there as far back as the fog could remember, was not warm like she was, or soft. He was not her kind, so the fog didn’t understand why she gasped and ran to throw herself into his embrace. The fog watched his arms coil around her, listened to it laugh, felt its eagerness.
The fog didn’t like the way it said, “My Mercy,” or the way her heart beat faster and her fire burned hotter, especially around her face.
The fog learned that he could be more than curious. He learned that he wanted a face, so that her gaze could caress his skin and swim in his eyes. He was startled when it dipped its head toward her, and he was jealous of the way her hand, which had only ever brushed his cool drops from her skin, reached up and gently stroked its gray skin.
As if that weren’t enough, as if his whole existence hadn’t been altered beyond recognition already, his heart, which he had lost somehow but found when she pressed her lips against those of the half dead impostor, suddenly was set ablaze. The fog evaporated and became a hot, humid gust of wind that flew around them in a frenzy. It flew in their faces, tried to push between them, picked up and tossed her hair, pulled at her clothes, wiped across her lips, and bumped against it, making it take a step to steady itself.
It laughed at the fog, at the wind. It was ecstatic because it loved her. It spewed its unendurable delight all over them. The wind stilled, recognizing the sweet sensation, and knew: it was a borrowed love, a stolen love. Then, the wind learned that he could love, too, because it was his love that the not-man slathered over her, pulling her in, tightening the coils, taking her for its own.
The wind watched his love transform her. She smiled and her smile glowed and the glow spread throughout her and then flew out of her, until she was the brightest, most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The wind was in awe of her and of what his love could do.
The wind learned one last thing before he died. He learned, in that moment, what he was. He was not the wind. He was not the fog. He was a man.
Chapter 43
Mercy ignored the voice that told her to protect them both from the heartbreak that would follow, when the truth about her evil deeds and her future in servitude came to light and ripped them apart. She guiltily and selfishly clung to the moment, knowing that she would treasure it in the empty years that stretched out before her. She couldn’t have him, but she could have this moment.
The wind that had swept away the fog had died down, which was fine with her because its sudden ferocity had made her a little shaky. Or maybe it was his kiss that had done that. Or maybe it was the intensity of his emotions, which would have blown her away even if the air had been perfectly still. Even now, she was having some difficulty taking it all in.
Her vision, which she had fought for, which she had waited for and worked toward, had in the end come out of nowhere. She couldn’t quite wrap her mind around how she had gotten here, or how he could be here, either. She didn’t even know where here was; but, she decided that she didn’t care, or rather, she would care later.
Everything up to now has been for this, she thought to herself. All else, including the questions, could wait. This was hers.
She sent her ribbons to encircle him, to hold him in every way she could. More delicate than her lightest touch, a dozen of them laid themselves against him and automatically she whispered, Scythe...
Startled, she pulled back immediately from the foreign mind that she encountered.
Not Scythe.
She blinked. Her lips were moving, but there were no words to make because no coherent thoughts would come.
Not. Scythe. Not him. It was…
He looked exactly like him. It was his body, his face; his chest was just that big, she knew, from having hugged it so many times. His smile, though, was changing even as she watched into something less Scythe-like. It was bizarre, like Jaelyn’s assistant, whose familiar smile sat on a stranger’s face. Here, a face she had stared at until she had memorized it wore a smile that didn’t match it; it was just a tiny bit too mocking. Scythe didn’t mock her, not like that, not with a sliver of distain at the edges.
Not Scythe. It had...it had never been him...for all those years…The reality was too much for her to cope with, too monumentally painful to endure. All her hopes, her plans, every time she had looked at him and thought she knew him, every morning that she had lain in bed, basking in the beauty of it...It had never been him.
She shook her head. I can’t think about that right now. She tried to shuffle the problem to the back of her mind.
She stepped back, pulling out of a pair of arms that held on longer than was comfortable. “Who...you aren’t Scythe. Who…?” Reality, which she now realized had absented itself for a time, started seeping back into her world a little bit at a time. She had been working at the computer...Jaelyn had left…the search for Edillian...and then…
“Edillian,” she said, amazed. “What is this and where is Scythe?”
“He’s around,” he replied in that voice she loved. His green eyes searched the sky above them, now a clear blue, and then swooped down at her again. “He didn’t like it when you kissed me, and it looks like it might cause a bit of a ruckus, but don’t worry. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“What do you mean? Let me see him. What have you done to him?” Half of her mind was reeling. Her vision had been about Edillian all along...someone she didn’t even know...someone who was barely alive. She had shaped her life...for...for him? It was impossible.
He chuckled. “I did almost nothing to him. He is the one who did it to me, my Mercy.”
“Do not call me that,” she said automatically.
“Why not? You like it, I can tell.”
“Not from you, I don’t.” He gave the tiniest of grins, the kind that had never failed to thrill her, because it always meant that he was amused by her despite his better judgment; those grins signified a victory for her, even if they accompanied a lost argument or some other failure. Now it just made her angry. “Don’t do that either.”
His eyes sparkled. He was really pleased. “Now, Mercy, don’t get cross. I just want to talk. You aren’t in any danger from me, ever. I love you.”
I love you. She couldn’t help her initial reaction to hearing that voice say those words and she hated it. She hated the way the blood rushed through her disloyal body. In response, she grit her teeth until she could bring herself to answer him steadily. Mean while, he smiled indulgently, the sincerity in his eyes reminding her of the passion and joy that he had felt when they had kissed. His feelings for her were real. He did love her, even though they had only just met.
“You don’t love me. You don’t know me at all. Let me see him.”
“That’s not a good idea. Right now, he’s pretty...well, he was pretty calm until you kissed me…”
“I did not kiss you. I kissed him.” But, that wasn’t true, was it? It wasn’t Scythe that had held her. It wasn’t Scythe’s kiss. It wasn’t his love that had filled her. It wasn’t him that she had made so happy. She felt sick to her stomach. Everything that she had done was built on a lie.
“No,” he said, touching his fingers to his lips and looking at hers fondly, “I’m pretty sure it was me. It was...wonderful…”
Focus, she told herself. Focus on what you are here for. The rest can wait.
“I want you to let him go,” she said firmly, and she didn’t even pretend that it was a request.
He shook his head and frowned slightly, “You know, my Mercy, that I won’t do that. You know why he’s here. There’s no way I would just throw my life away.”
“Well, there’s no way I am going to let you throw his life away,” she said with the same conviction he had shown.
“Mercy,” he chided her. “You won’t have a say. You are too Human, and I’m not. What you can do, as impressive as it is, is only a shadow of what I can do. Besides, his life isn’t being thrown away, it’s being used to save someone important…”
“There’s no one…”
“More important to you than me,” he finished and smiled confidently.
“No,” she denied, shaken by his words. She had said that to Scythe years ago. There is no one more important to us than you. Apparently, he could read Scythe’s memories in addition to being able to imitate his form. She thought of what she knew of Edillian’s body, hanging in a sick-looking liquid in a tank, quickly getting stronger. This wasn’t Edillian’s body. He had created the whole image in her mind, just to...to what?
She looked around for the first time. When she had been in the fog, the world was a shapeless gray. Everything around her was still shapeless and kind of blurry, except for the blue sky and a few puffy clouds. Then, even as she watched, the world wavered and then sharpened: rocks, trees, bushes, and the trail that led to the ocean from their home materialized in front of her.
He put out his hand. “Here, let’s walk to the ocean. I know you love that.”
She briefly let him see how much the idea disgusted her, even though she was pretty sure he could tell what she was thinking. After ignoring his outstretched hand, she continued to study her environment. She tried to pierce it with her power to find a way out, but her ribbons, even the tiny ones, stayed in the here.
He stepped up to her, and when she tried to back away, she bumped into stone. On both sides of her were the close walls of an alcove in a church they had once had to take refuge in. It was dark, just like it had been then, and behind the man she kept telling herself was Edillian, the trees turned into holy statues, the bushes turned into pews and the sky darkened into a rich, carved and painted wooden ceiling.
She put up her hand, pressing on his chest to keep him from getting any closer. It had no effect.
“Remember when we hid here?”
She stared straight forward and tried to push at him with her power, but nothing happened. It was like she didn’t have any power at all. Fear trickled down the back of her neck.
“Don’t bother. Do you remember?”
“I remember being here with Scythe. I doubt you’ve been here.”
“I wanted to kiss you on that day,” he whispered, leaning close and bringing his face down until his breath played with the hair around her ear. Her heart jumped in her chest. Was that true? Had Scythe wanted to kiss her? That was nearly a year ago, in the summer…
He turned his head and his lips brushed her skin. “I want to kiss you again. And again. A thousand times.” She could feel it, too. His desire watched them, a hunched gargoyle hovering above them, avid and possessive.
“No.” She was still working on trying to find her power. It had to be in her, she just needed to unlock it…
“Yes,” he insisted, bringing his hands to her waist. “And touch you, too. It’s nothing sexual, although I want that, too. It is a compulsion, like some kind of fever inside of me. I want my hands, my face, on your skin...”
“Don’t touch me,” she threatened, turning her head so she could give him a look that she’d never before directed at those green eyes.
He frowned and stepped back just a little. He leaned on the corner, his arms crossed in a familiar way. He shrugged, “I can’t help it.”
“Try.”
He smiled confidently. “When he’s gone, you’ll be here with me for a long time. I know everything about you, my Mercy, and eventually…”
“Eventually, what? I’ll forget that you killed him?” She snapped. When he's gone... It had made her stomach roil to hear that. Think, Mercy!
“If I want you to, you will.”
Cold as ice was the feeling of blood draining from her face. She shook her head and objected, “You couldn’t…”
“Do you think I’m like your little half-man?” he interrupted. “My abilities are so far above his that you can’t possibly comprehend the difference. You’ll think what I want you to, just like you think what my mother wants you to think right now.”
“What?”
“You can either come along, or I’ll bring you along.”
“What do you mean, like your mother?”
He shrugged, “She’s all over your mind. You look like an essay that’s been written and rewritten a dozen times by someone who only had one sheet of paper.”
She tried to figure out what it was that she didn’t know, what might not make sense, but she couldn’t think of anything that was out of place.
He continued, “I have to have you now, Mercy. Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you. I won’t let my mother sacrifice you for one of my brothers or sisters.”
“I only have to worry about you: killing Scythe, erasing my memories, rewriting my thoughts, making me love you. Isn’t that right?”
He frowned, “It doesn’t have to be that way. I can make you as happy as he could. I am everything that he is. I know everything that he does. We are essentially the same person, now.” She could tell that he was still convincing himself, as if he had to rationalize his actions that way.
It was ridiculous. Perverted. The whole idea enraged her. “You are nothing like him!” she spat, stepping forward and punching at his face.
He slid ever so slightly to the side, and his hand moved lightning fast to take a hold of hers and pull it in the direction it was already headed in. She was yanked forward, twisted, and then her arm was wrapped around the front of her body; he pulled her back against him. He stood just where he had been a second ago, but now he had her wrist and was holding her firmly.
“I can do everything he can…” he growled.
“You can’t make me love you,” she insisted confidently, but her heart was beating in her chest like a small animal. That was just the type of flawless, effortless move Scythe would have been able to perform easily.
“Yes, I can. You forget how easily you thought it was him earlier.”
“Yes, you can fool me into thinking that you are him, but you’re not listening. You can’t make me love you. It will always be him, Edillian, and not you. Even if you somehow make me believe I’m in love with
you, you will always know it was fake, that I never truly loved you.”
“So what?” He pushed her away, probably a little harder than he meant to, because he stepped forward, his hand outstretched when she ran into the alcove wall, barely getting her hands up in time to protect her face.
She turned and slapped down his hand, then stepped out of the alcove and into the church aisle. “What will make you give him up?”
His derisive look only made her angrier, “Nothing. I want to live, Mercy.”
“Take me then.”
He laughed: one big shout that echoed in the church. “That would never happen. Didn’t you hear me earlier? I have to have you, now. Besides, I could never kill you.” He touched his chest absently. “It hurts just to think about it.”
“Why? There are plenty of women around, and I’ve sworn my life away anyway, so it might as well be for you…”
He shook his head, “You still don’t listen. You need more lessons.”
“Don’t talk like you are him.”
“I am him, or at least, a lot of him is imprinted on me now. That’s the whole problem, my Mercy.”
She shook her head, “I can’t accept this. There has to be a way.”
“Even if you brought me someone else, do you think I could stand by and watch you with him? It would be torture.”
The idea of involving another person was something she wouldn’t even consider. No, she had to finish this herself. If only she could find a way...
“Let me see him, then, before he dies. Let me say goodbye to him.”
“No.” It was his turn to snap at her, which surprised her.
“Why not?”
He shook his head. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
“Fine.” An idea occurred to her, something which just days ago would have horrified her, but now didn’t bother her at all. She thought of the wires above his tank and how easy it would be to yank them out.
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