by Leigh Evans
My brother’s an addict. He’ll always be one.
“I will see the book destroyed,” the old geezer promised. “You can leave this realm now assured of the continued safety of yours.”
As if it were that easy. “That doesn’t save the Raha’ells or Ralph, does it?”
“Are we bargaining, nalera?”
“So far you haven’t said anything really tempting.”
He rubbed one thumb over the other, his gaze shuttered as he thought. “What about the Raha’ells?” he offered abruptly. “As soon as I have taken my rightful place as mage to the Royal Court, I will petition the king for their freedom.”
Yeah, we all know how useful petitions are.
His eyes glinted. “I give you my word that the Raha’ells will return to their hills and their hunting grounds. You can return to your world with a clear conscience. Knowing that no evil will seep through your portals.”
I cocked my head, finally struck by the non-specific nature of the last threat. “What bad things are we really talking about? Locusts? Plagues? Evil mage magic? What precisely is written on the last page of the Book of Spells?”
“You would not understand it.”
“Try me. Go ahead. You can use little words.”
He considered the wisdom of answering. Then with a slight lift of his chin, he said, “The results of my studies into realm dimensions.”
“More mumbo jumbo. Get specific or get lost.”
“I was testing the elemental boundary dimensions between one world and another.”
“Whose world?” I asked sharply.
“Not yours.”
There really were other dimensions? The physics geeks would be agog. “So,” I said slowly, “what you’re telling me is that you left DIY instructions for creating portals like the ones between Merenwyn and Creemore?”
If so, what was the big deal? Earth didn’t have wizards, but it had many covens of witches. Wards could and would be purchased. Every known portal could be contained within one. Kind of like double-bagging the grocery bag weighted by the juicy steak. Countermeasures could be taken to reduce seepage.
“Those were early studies,” he said with disdain.
Early? I turned my head to stare at him. I’m not a student of higher learning, but I’m becoming very good at decoding facial expressions, and the gleam of acquisition in his eyes set all sorts of alarm bells tolling.
“You went past that, didn’t you?” I evaluated the satisfied curl of his mouth and felt hope die. “Did you leave step-by-step instructions on how to slip into other universes on that last page?”
A pause, then he answered proudly, “Yes.”
I thought it through. “So, Helzekiel wouldn’t need a portal to visit me in Creemore. He could just snap his fingers and appear in my local Tim Hortons.”
“Yes. That is my fear.”
No, it wasn’t.
“One day you’ll need to rule,” Trowbridge had told me once. “And some of the decisions you have to make will damn well kill you.”
He was right.
My gaze slowly traveled from the embedded rock to Merry.
You’ll never know how sorry I am for what I’m about to do.
I spoke to her. Not the guy who squatted in my brother. Not the audience of the Gatekeeper, and the pony and the half-blooded kid named Mouse. I spoke to the brave soul who had stood by me all these many years. I spoke to the person I was going to betray.
“This isn’t about Lexi anymore,” I said. “It’s about what a man like the Old Mage will do if he’s not stopped. He’s a wizard with a score to even up and a reputation to reestablish. Once he’s taken care of Helzekiel—and trust me, he will take care of Helzekiel—he’ll move on to eliminating those in the court who sentenced him to the Sleep of Forever. I don’t think they’re good people, but without them there’s no one to check his relentless curiosity and ambition.”
I wet my lip. “No one except us, Merry.”
Oh Goddess, her color is turning black as a witch’s blood.
“He’ll start walking the world again,” I told her, my words tumbling. “But his ego and curiosity will keep pushing him to expand his horizons and soon walking through universes won’t be enough. You know I’m right, Merry. You know he’ll start tinkering with those other worlds. Those people won’t see him coming. They’ll be as unprepared for him as you were for Helzekiel.”
Forgive me, I pleaded with my eyes. “He’s so much more dangerous than the Black Mage. I can’t release him from his vow.”
She stared at me for a long moment. And then, the bright fire inside her—one that was fed on a hope so edged with yearning that it could have lit a hundred homes with its brilliance—slowly extinguished itself. When the light in her belly was no more than a muted glow, she did something she’d never done before. She deliberately turned her back on me.
Ralph extended a golden arm and drew her close.
My eyes fell to the mucked-up earth and the piece of rock that was bigger than I’d ever anticipated. Had I really thought it would be as easy as that? Forget the mumbo jumbo, just break the stone? One strike and the entire my-best-friend’s-enchanted problem would shatter? If that were the case, Merry would have led me to the closest rock pile as soon as she got me used to being led around by her golden leash.
Idiot.
I used to think she followed me. That wasn’t quite right, now was it? We went together. Sometimes me leading, sometimes her leading. Both tethered by links stronger than Fae gold.
Broken now.
I pushed the earth back, knowing there were more truths to face. I forced myself to check the tall fir in the west. I knew what I’d see—my mental clock had never stopped ticking. The sun had sunk behind it.
Something’s happened. Trowbridge should be back by now. They’ve caught him, and right now, even as I stand here, they’re leading him to Wryal’s Island. Panic, a sickening flutter in my chest. I’m the leader now. I’m the person who has to see this through.
Ralph curled two arms around Merry when I crouched beside them.
“You heard him. Every piece of magic he knew up to when he was sentenced is written in his journal. The Book of Spells holds the key to releasing you. I’ll find it. I’ll tear it out. There has to be someone in this world or ours who can free you.”
Merry swiveled around.
“I can’t do better. I wish I could.” I offered my hand.
It took four “Mississippis” for her to disengage from Ralph. Another two for her and the glowering Ralph to step onto my palm. My throat hurt as I picked up their chains and placed them over my head.
They hung from my neck. A burden of guilt and love.
I turned around to stare at the old man.
He said, “I need not be your enemy.”
“Oh, we’re far too late for that.”
“Perhaps I shall leave you to ponder my offer.”
“Don’t let the door slam on your ass.”
Clearly, another insult lost in translation. I needed a Merenwynian lexicon of smart put-downs for the Fae.
“You will need me soon.”
I got off my knees and stood. “Door. Ass. Bye-bye.”
* * *
There is dusk and there is dawn. Both can bleed. Both can have a terrible beauty. Watching the soul-light resume in my twin’s eyes was as hard as watching it fade. Losing him had evoked pity. Gaining him back brought anger.
I was furious. Coldly and implacably so.
I knew the moment Lexi was back, for his expression changed. And I knew when he’d finished replaying what had happened in his absence, for the look in his eyes turned from fuzzy to shamed. His gaze cut away from mine.
“I am faint with thirst,” the Gatekeeper reminded me.
“You had a chance,” I said curtly. “Mouse? Bring me your burlap sack.”
He brought it to me. Just like that. No back talk, no “what about,” no pauses to sift possibilities of action. It’s something I liked
about the boy: you gave him an order and he did it. “We lose the pony here,” I told him, untying the bag’s strings. “She’s too noisy. Take off her bridle and let her go. We’re leaving now.”
“But the Son of Lukynae is not back,” said Mouse.
I stared him down until he looked away. Balance of command restored, I extracted the two bottles of juice from the burlap bag and threw the now-empty sack behind some bushes. One vial went into my right pocket.
Lexi finally spoke. “Trowbridge is not back?”
What, didn’t his mage give him the entire 411?
“Trowbridge said it was less than an hour to the castle,” I said tightly. “I want to do it in fifty minutes, tops. But you’ve been limping.” I jerked my chin at his leg. “I take it that’s because of the pain?”
“You may not find him in the castle,” he said quietly.
No. That’s where I’ll find him. I have to find him there.
“Answer my question. Can you keep up?”
“He could have met other dangers. He could be—”
“Or do you need a hit of this?” I held up the bottle of juice. “Because nothing is going to slow us down, got that? Nobody is going to stop me from doing what I said I was going to do. Not you or your leg. Not the Gatekeeper. Not the Fae. Nothing and nobody.”
You’d think I’d just offered him a capsule of cyanide.
Well, Lexi could take his sense of betrayal and stuff it. My anger was a wooden roller coaster, shuddering upward toward a precipice.
Blotches of color mottled Lexi’s neck. “I don’t need it.”
I jammed the bottle into my other back pocket. Good enough. One of us might. Trowbridge. Me. Mouse. “If you have anything you need to do—like check to see if you still have your balls—I suggest you do it now. Because we’re leaving as soon as I get the Gatekeeper fitted with her new harness.”
I turned for the Fae woman.
Though the belt cinching her arms behind her back had taken care of any instinct she might have felt in passing to toss a few balyfires at me, it didn’t do much beyond that. She was not working with us. She’d lagged wherever she could; she’d been a monument to passive resistance. And I meant it about moving fast: if the truculent Fae needed motivation to hotfoot it to the secret entrance, I was the girl to give it to her.
I prodded the magic inside me. “Donut time,” I murmured.
The Gatekeeper was going to lead us to the secret entrance. She was going to do it before the sun slipped below the horizon.
“Hell, do not turn your back on me and give me orders,” said Lexi.
Oh?
I slowly pivoted to face my twin. “Okay, I’ll give them to you face-to-face. You’ve got one job from here on: shut up and walk. When we get to the castle, you’re going to show me where I can find your mage’s book and then we’re done. You’ll come back to Creemore, but then you go your way and I’ll go mine. It’s over. Whatever we had is finally done.”
“Don’t give me commands.”
“Really? I’d think you’d be used to them, because you just demonstrated how easily you come to heel. Not five minutes ago, your mage said get lost and you went away. You tucked your tail between your legs and slunk off.”
“I—”
“Shut up. You failed two tests, Lexi, not one. After you realized that you couldn’t break Merry’s spell, you should have stuck it out. You should have faced Merry and me. Admitted that you were wrong, and told Merry you were sorry. But instead, you just melted away. I watched your face—you didn’t even fucking fight it. I don’t give a shit why you left. Maybe you were ashamed; maybe you felt beaten. The point is: you left.”
“I—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” I said harshly. “I know now what Trowbridge didn’t have the heart to say to me. You are a freakin’ grenade with a loose pin. One day you’re going to explode, but I’m not going to let you do it until I’ve crossed a few things off the list. My world—the one you were born into, the one that I’m probably never going to see again—is going to be safe. The mistakes the Stronghold twins made aren’t going to impact the people I care about. Your daughter is going to be safe. Cordelia’s going to live out her life without worrying about world-walkers, and mages. From now on, there’s only one thing I want from you. Try to be a Stronghold, okay? Just for one more freakin’ hour you keep the Old Mage on lockdown. You get that? You have the backbone to keep him away from me. I don’t want anything messing with my head. We’re going to go to the castle right now, because that was our plan—the one that I made with my mate. We’re not going to sit here and reflect on why Trowbridge hasn’t made it back. If he could have, he would have. Speculating on how to stop the Fae from executing him isn’t going to get it done. We’re going to follow through. But that’s what he’d do. That’s what leaders do.”
Even if some of the decisions kill you.
I told my magic to do what it had to do. She flowed through me, through my blood, through my will, to accumulate at my fingertips. “Leash her,” I said, casting my magic at the Gatekeeper.
My magic flew to her, green and so very alive. The Gatekeeper flinched as my magic’s kiss touched her chest. She leaned away from my magic as she curled herself around the Gatekeeper’s torso.
I walked toward her, the magic between us tightening.
“Get up,” I said.
She shook her head.
I bent so that she could read the conviction in my eyes. “Get up, or I’ll tell my magic to tighten up and break a few ribs.”
She got up.
I’ll find you, Trowbridge. I swear, my love, I’ll find you.
Lexi said, “You’re making a mistake.”
“I’m a Stronghold.” I gave the invisible lasso a motivational jerk. “That’s what we seem to do.”
What my brother would have said to that I’ll never know. For that’s when Mouse cried out, “Beware, Hedi!”
Chapter Twenty
The three hunters materialized so quietly from the flora and fauna, they could have been wraiths. One male was bearded, well over six and a half feet tall, and had abs that could send a handful of change bouncing. The female was about five inches shorter than Very Tall Guy and had no visible body fat.
They were Raha’ells—easily identified by their long dreads, general air of ferocity, and the liberal application of mud.
How’d they know about the mud?
Mouse spoke out of the side of his mouth. “I don’t like the looks of this. Particularly that one.”
I agreed: “that” one was giving me the willies. Though all of the Raha’ells were armed, the third man—a clean-shaven, auburn-haired specimen of scary—was the only one with his bow primed and his target chosen.
Why is it always me?
His right fist was bunched on the midpoint of the bow’s long shaft, and his left fist was bunched at his jaw. The string was taut, the arrow primed. He observed me through a single eye. Presumably, he had another, but my focus had narrowed to his bunched fists and the die-bitch intent in his unforgiving eye.
I flexed my fingers on my free hand, mentally stripping some power from the donut surrounding the Gatekeeper. Magic streamed back up my arm, surged across my shoulders, and pooled at the tips of my nails. If they fired at me—if they hurt me, or Mouse, or anyone in my party—the last thing they’d feel was the slow throttle of my magic.
What happened next always made me think of when jazz dancers strike a pose just before delivering that sudden flick of fingers that turns their closed fists into starfish.
Jazz hands.
Yeah, that’s what I was thinking when Scary Guy let loose his arrow.
Jazz hands—that and I hate Bob Fosse.
* * *
There was nowhere to go. On the bell curve of fast-moving things that are going to kill you, arrows are right up there with speeding bullets. All I could do was duck, tuck, and pray.
Please be a lousy shot.
Please be the worst ma
rksman in the whole pack.
I heard a soft sound—not a thud, not a comical boing, but an impact of sorts, which was quickly followed by a surprised cry. Heartless creature that I am, I put the two sound effects together and came up with “not me.”
Good.
Mouse!
I spun around.
Not Mouse, but the Gatekeeper. She’d chosen the dumbass option of backing away. Never run from a wolf. Now her little head was bent, to best examine the arrow that was buried in the center of her torso. The marksman’s arrow had neatly pierced the fancy emblem embroidered on her vest.
A kill shot.
Very slowly, the small woman looked down at the thing protruding from her chest. Then, she lifted her stricken gaze to mine. “Don’t move,” I warned her, but she took another step backward and the rope of magic between us tightened until my arm rose and my fingers stretched tautly into a terrible mimic of a plea.
A feeble flicker of flame erupted from her fingertips.
“Don’t!” I said, shaking my head.
The second arrow pierced her throat neatly, with the minimum of blood and gore. It went through flesh and found tree and pinned her tightly to the trunk, a butterfly mounted for presentation. Though the Rahae’lls couldn’t see my magic, I could, and it’s an image that I’ll never be able to erase from my memory—the Gatekeeper wavering on her small feet, one arrow through her breast, the other through her throat. Grappling against the unknown, she lifted her arm weakly to claw at her throat and in so doing brushed against the coil of my magic.
It was a rope, green to my eyes, invisible to hers. It was not a lifeline. It could not hold her here in her world.
But the Gatekeeper caught it and clung to it as her eyes glazed.
“Cut,” I said through my teeth, and my serpent of magic severed its ties to the dead woman. Green sparkles flickered around my face and my fingers buzzed. I spread them and bit down on the surge of heat as my magic returned to me. Hurting my knuckles, quickening my heart.
