by Talia Vance
“Yes.”
“Bloody hell. I thought we’d have more time.”
Another burst of gold light surrounds us. When I open my eyes, we’re standing on the rocks at the base of the trail going back up the bluff. The entire beach is submerged in water. There’s no sign of Liam.
My breath comes faster. “He was just here.”
Austin nods. “Go back to the house and warm up.”
I reach for fire, using its heat to start thawing me from the inside, even as the wind batters my soaked hair and clothes.
It’s not until I’m safely in my room, wrapped in layers of blankets with a steaming mug of hot chocolate between my palms, that I look out at the water churning below my window. The water looks ominous, less a part of me than a force to be respected. I may be able to access the power of the ocean, but I’m a fool to think I can control it. That I can control anything.
If it weren’t for Austin, I probably wouldn’t have made it out alive.
Not good. I don’t want to owe Austin any favors. I don’t want to owe Austin anything.
ELEVEN
Austin lounges on an antique chair in the blue sitting room downstairs, his legs draped casually over one ornately carved arm. A fire roars in a fireplace that is taller than I am.
“Thank God,” is all he says when I sit down on the couch across from him.
“You talk to God?”
“Not literally. He doesn’t visit the underworld and he certainly isn’t here.”
“I didn’t mean literally.” It’s almost a relief to see Austin. The familiar is welcome, even the bad.
He gestures to a tray of hot tea and some kind of pastries that look like little berry pies. “Mikel can’t seem to stop feeding me.”
I reach for a dainty china cup and pour the hot liquid. “I feel like I’ve stepped into another century.”
Austin’s smile catches me off guard. He looks disarmingly like he did a thousand years ago. “Trust me, you haven’t.”
But I did step into another century, another millennium, up at the ruin. Does Austin remember meeting me back then? I watch him as I sip my tea. He looks deceptively human as he pushes his wild bangs out of his eyes. I catch myself before I smile back. Austin is not my friend. He’s a means to an end.
“Who was it?” He asks.
“What?”
The crease is back between his brows. “The god you saw at the beach? Did he say anything to you?”
“He said his name was Pwil, but he’s going by Liam.”
“Liam,” Austin repeats. “What an arse.” Austin swings his legs around so his feet are on the floor.
“You know him?”
“I probably don’t need to tell you this, since you met the bastard, but this is bad.”
“Who is he?”
“My best friend.” Austin grabs one of the tiny pies from the tray and bites into the flaky crust.
“You don’t have friends.” Blake had been Austin’s socalled-friend. And then Austin had made sure I killed him.
Austin arches an eyebrow. “There’s the rub.”
It still doesn’t make sense. Austin is the only god that can cross over from the underworld. “Why is Liam here?”
“Why are you here, Brianna?” He ignores my question again. “You were supposed to be on a plane out of Dublin by now. You promised you wouldn’t come back.”
“I couldn’t just run.”
“You could. You still can.”
“I want my life back.” I don’t expect him to understand. Austin can’t know what it means to want to be close to the people you care about. All he cares about is taking back the earth for the gods. “My human one.”
His smile is sad. “Careful what you wish for.” He eats the last of the pastry, licking the crumbs off his thumb. “I’m afraid I’m much too selfish to make you go, so we’ll have to come up with a new plan. Liam’s a bastard, but right now he’s the least pressing of your worries. The Sons will all gather here, Brianna. The call of the gateway is strong.”
“But the gateway was in Del Mar.” “Was” being the operative word. Mick already told me it was here. And I saw it on the beach just before Liam appeared.
“The gateway is wherever the god of the underworld chooses. It’s a touchstone of sorts, the source of your power. The bandia and the Sons will find their way to it, even if they don’t understand they are doing so.”
It’s the same thing Mick said when he told me the Sons were coming. But Austin is the god of the underworld. He can stop it. “What the hell are you doing then? You knew if you opened the gateway you would bring the Sons straight here. Or is that what you want?”
Of course it is.
I should’ve known that Austin would try to force a fight. The only thing I accomplished by sending him away was to make him more determined. He still wants me to be his pawn in a war against the Sons. To kill for him.
The sick part is that I want to fight the Sons now. Not for him. For me.
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I didn’t open the gateway. Liam did.”
“How is that even possible? You’re the god of the underworld.”
Austin laces his fingers together. There’s no trace of his usual confidence as he stares down at his hands, worrying his thumbs against each other. “Was.”
“What do you mean?”
His crooked smile is meant to reassure me. It doesn’t. “I had a good run, right?”
“What happened?”
“I suppose I’ve lost my immortality.”
“You realize that whole sentence is an oxymoron. Immortality is supposed to be a permanent condition.”
“Are you not a believer then?”
There’s little left to believe in. I thought I believed in logic, but not everything can be compartmentalized in numbers and scientific theory. I believed in Blake. But once our bond was severed, he kept me at a distance. Then he immediately assumed the worst about me the first time the opportunity arose. “What exactly am I supposed to believe in?”
“Magic.”
Our eyes meet and for a second I’m back in the field by the ruined little wall, remembering his smile in another time. I push the memory away. I can’t afford to think of Austin as anything more than the danger he is.
“You’re sure it’s Pwil?” He asks.
“Who is he?” I ask again.
“A minor deity with a major dose of ambition.” Austin puts his hand in his hair, pushing it off his forehead. “He was my second, covering for me while I was topside. I trusted him once.”
“But you don’t anymore.” It’s not a question.
“He won’t be as patient as I’ve been.”
“You’ve been patient?” This from a guy who has killed or orchestrated the death of more than one demigod to advance his cause.
Austin watches me with an intensity that makes me shiver. “More than you know.” There’s something raw about his stare, like a layer of veneer has been pulled away to reveal the imperfections underneath.
“So if you’ve lost your immortality. Does that mean you can die?”
Austin’s crooked smile is back in place. “Don’t go getting ideas.”
TWELVE
I resist the urge to spend another three days holed up in my room, now that I know the Sons are coming here and a new god is on the loose. Austin and Mick work together in an office at the end of a long hall, and I spend most of my time at the barn with the horses. I ride in the fields close to the house, giving the trail to the ocean a wide berth. After two days with no new Liam sightings, I venture further, turning Panda up the trail to the trees.
I dismount as soon as the crumbling walls come into view. Once Panda is set loose to graze in the meadow, I walk around the stones, circling them. Maybe I imagined seeing Austin in the past. None of it seems possible. But it’s not like finding out I’m the descendant of a goddess seemed possible six months ago. Bringing Blake back from the dead shouldn’t have been possibl
e. Blake sending me away without listening to my side- completely impossible. But all of it had happened anyway.
The little carvings in the stone mock me. The horse carving seems lighter than the others, as if it’s fading somehow. I finger the matching charm on my bracelet. I stand unmoving, pretending that I’m not going to press the silver horse against the stone. Then I do.
At first nothing happens, and I let myself breathe. My lungs have barely filled when the wall disappears into fog and mist, and I go with it, floating in the cold, gray nothingness until the sky brightens and I feel damp grass beneath my feet.
“I was beginning to think I’d imagined you.” I turn toward the soft Irish voice. Towards Austin. Not Austin, exactly, Aaron, with his soft eyes and innocent smile. He wears the same style of belted wool shirt that brushes his knees, only this one is green. His long, wild hair that falls past his shoulders.
I came here to see him, but I don’t have a plan exactly. What if this is the last chance I have to talk to Austin from a thousand years ago? I could warn him about the war with the Sons. How the Sons kill most of the bandia. Maybe if he knows how things turn out he’ll think twice about killing Danu to spark the war.
Maybe I can change everything.
“Don’t do it,” I finally say.
He tilts his head to the side. “Do what?”
“Don’t kill Danu. It won’t work. The Seventh Daughters will fight the Sons, but they won’t win.”
Austin laughs. He leans on a low portion of the wall, his eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and fascination. “Why would I kill Danu? She is the last of her kind.”
“Not the last. That’s supposed to be me.”
“Then the future is not so dire.”
“You believe me? That I’m from the future?” “I know better than to run from fate.” His easy smile
is contagious.
“What if you could change it? The future, I mean.” He laughs again and when he looks at me his eyes are
unguarded. Unspoiled. This Austin hasn’t killed Danu. Hasn’t killed Dart. Hasn’t hurt me. “Why would I want to change my future if it includes you?”
It doesn’t . I bite back the words. This boy doesn’t seem to want anything from me. He just seems to like talking to me. There’s something simple and easy about that, but I can’t afford to think that way. “I don’t think you’re supposed to know your future.”
“Are you here to stop me then?” Can I? Can I stop him from killing Danu, and find a way to bring the Sons of Killian and Seventh Daughters together before centuries of death and destruction make peace impossible? I’m supposed to end the war. Maybe, this is how I do it. I stop it before it starts. I’m giddy with the possibility. Why else am I here?
“One decision could stop your descendants from killing each other off. Maybe I’m here to change everything.” His future. Mine.
“So I’ve made a royal mess of things, have I?” “Yes.” I stare down at my boots. “Not just you.” Austin may have orchestrated things, but I am still the one who killed Blake. Tears come before I can stop them.
Austin reaches for my hand, gently holding my fingertips like he’s afraid I will break. The gesture somehow makes me cry more. I don’t know what I’m crying for exactly. For Blake. For me. For all the bandia and Sons who will die in the centuries between Aaron’s time and mine.
He waits until my cries fade to sniffles. “I wish I could make it right,” he says. “But I’m afraid you already know how it ends.”
Do I? I know he will kill Danu to spark a bloody war that will continue across the centuries, a war I’m supposed to end, but unlikely to win. The bit of hope I’d felt only a moment before is already out of reach. “If I can’t stop it, why am I here?”
Austin’s laugh is warm and comforting. “I know better than to question a gift from the heavens.”
I look up and for a dizzying second, I’m lost in his eyes.
Everything fades to gray and he’s gone.
I’m back at the ruin. The small ruin. Alone, except for Panda. I fight for breath.
I have to find a way back again.
I could change everything. Austin might not think I can, but it’s a chance I have to take. No one has to die. I press my fingers to my lips, remembering the feel of his hands on them, before I slam them back to my sides.
Austin is a necessary evil, an ally against the Sons. I can’t let myself forget who I’m dealing with. After everything that happened with Blake, I should know better than to let the devil draw me in.
THIRTEEN
After another week without any sign of Liam or the Sons, I need to get out of Lorcan. I’ve stayed away from the beach and even farther away from the ruin. After days of riding in circles in the field, I ask to borrow the car. Mick insists on coming with me, and I don’t argue, mainly because I don’t know if I can drive on both the wrong side of the car and the wrong side of the road.
Mick follows at a discreet distance as I walk down Main Street and gaze into the shop windows. I stop in front of a dress shop, admiring a long red sheath that’s too fancy even for prom. Not that I’m going to prom anytime soon. Or ever.
Shannon waves from inside the store where she’s talking to a customer and I wave back.
Mick pauses in front of the leather shop two doors down and pretends to look interested in something inside, but I catch him watching me out of the corner of his eye. I move along to the bakery. As much as I want to talk to Shannon, it will be better to wait for an opportunity when Mick isn’t looking over my shoulder.
I purchase a small white cake with a blue flower on the top. The flower looks like a misshapen bell, a near perfect match for the silver wolfsbane charm that hangs around my neck. In real life, the flower is deadly if ingested, but I bite into the icing anyway. It’s barely sweet, but still delicious.
I smile at the boy behind the counter. His face turns rosy, magnifying the freckles that dot his nose. Embarrassed, I look out the window, just as a familiar flash of blonde hair moves out of view. He goes by so fast, I can almost believe I imagine him, but then I hear his laugh.
Blake.
Blake is here.
I shake with an odd combination of dread and anticipation. I throw the rest of the cake away and rush outside.
Blake is already two stores down. His back is to me, but I would recognize him anywhere. The way he moves with the smooth gait of a predator. The way his hair falls in long layers that brush past his ears, looking slightly messy, but somehow perfect. He wears a weathered leather jacket that looks soft to the touch. I want to touch it.
I want to touch him.
I know I shouldn’t. After everything he said to me during the fire, the last thing I should want is anything to do with Blake Williams. But seeing him here, thousands of miles from Rancho Domingo, tugs at my soul. We’re so far away, but the inescapable truth is that Blake still feels like home.
I stop myself from running to him. For all I know he still blames me for the fire at Mallory’s party. It’s not like he’s here for me. I knew he would come. All of the Sons will. But I can’t prevent the surge of hope as it rises from the ashes with the strength of a Phoenix. Maybe he’s looking for me. Maybe he came to warn me that the Sons are coming. To apologize. To tell me he believes me. Loves me.
It’s not too late. We can fix this. I walk faster, desperate to close the distance until there is nothing between us but our breaths.
I’m stopped by a hand on my shoulder, as I open my mouth to call to Blake.
“Slow down.” Mick stands over me. He follows my gaze to Blake’s retreating back. “We need to get you back to Lorcan. Now.”
“It’s just Blake.” Blake keeps walking, getting farther away now.
“He’s not just anything. He’s a Seventh Son of Killian.”
“He’s my friend.” It might not be true, but I have to find out. I break free from Mick’s grasp and keep walking.
He follows, using his longer strides to keep pace.
“The less people who know you’re here, the better.”
“He might have news.” I can’t stop myself from adding, “He might be looking for me.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. We can’t risk it. With the gateway open and the Sons—” He stops mid-sentence. “What?” But I’m only half listening, my breath catching as Blake stops next to a gift shop and turns his head to look in the window. I can see the side of his face, the corner of his lips. I’ve missed those lips. I want to run to him, but Mick’s hand is on my wrist, cuffing it.
“Wait,” Mick says.
A dimple appears on Blake’s cheek. My heart melts a little. I know that smile. The smile that’s charmed a thousand girls. The smile that charmed me. But he hasn’t seen me. His smile is for someone else.
Portia Bruton walks out of the store and launches herself at him, drawing him into a hug. Blake’s arms come around her easily.
Fire floods my veins in an instant. Mick lets go of my wrist with a start. I take a few steps closer, ducking into a dark stone archway that forms a small alcove in front of a book store. I lean against the cold wall and try to breathe. Blake and Portia are friends. So they hugged. It doesn’t mean anything. I push back the fire, giving in to the urge to peer back around the corner.
Portia looks prettier than normal. Her chestnut hair is cut in flattering layers that accentuate her big amber eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile. Now that she does, it lights up her whole face, and she is gorgeous.
I want to kill her.
Eighteen. Three hundred and twenty four. I concentrate on the calculating the third exponent, but I can’t think with the fire raging inside me, burning to get out.
Blake, Blake, lowers his head and kisses Portia right there in the street. Not a peck, but a deep, soulful kiss that’s too intimate for the sidewalk.
The fire in me is gone in an instant, replaced by ice. I’m trembling. The tears on my cheeks freeze into little icicles, so cold they burn the skin.
Mick ducks into the alcove beside me. He takes off his heavy black coat and pulls it over my shoulders. The little doorway crackles as more ice forms a thin layer over the stone wall. “Not here.”
