by Sue Wilder
“You wanted Six to take Christan?”
“Yes, if it was necessary.”
“Why, for god’s sake?”
“I needed you to perform the blood bond. You would only do it if you thought you were saving Christan’s life.”
Lexi thought about the attack on the villa, the barking dog, a woman’s scream. Broken hands and a pool of blood on a concrete floor. It took a moment before she could speak. “Why didn’t you just ask me?” It was only blood. She would have agreed.
Three turned her head slightly to the left and said, “Christan would have refused if he’d known.”
Lexi swallowed once and glanced around the elegant room. “You did it behind his back?”
Three remained silent, not a good sign.
“How could torturing Christan possibly benefit you?”
“He was never in any real danger.”
“You didn’t see him.”
“I didn’t need to see him, I know what he is.”
Lexi tried to be calm. “People died at that villa.”
“You say that with such shock,” the immortal said. “But Christan has belonged to me much longer than he has belonged to you. I understand him better than you. I made a decision rather than arguing about it.”
Lexi turned her head to stare through the large windows toward the glittering water beyond. There were differences between human and immortal perspectives that couldn’t be explained. When she glanced back at Three, the woman was watching as if daring judgement.
“The answer is yes,” the immortal said.
“About what?”
“I appreciate a need for blood when necessary. But I am not evil. What I did had to be done. When we created warriors, we knew the alchemy was not an exact science. There was a risk.”
“What kind of risk?”
“That our characteristics would dominate and the warriors would become totally ruthless and amoral.”
“And ruthless, amoral warriors might be inconvenient?” Lexi asked.
Three ignored the sarcasm. “You’ve encountered Kace on multiple occasions. You tell me.”
Lexi didn’t answer.
The immortal said, “No one has survived more than Christan has, nor paid a higher price, but he’d stayed too long in the Void. I needed him more human and the blood bond was the fastest way.”
Lexi stared at a shaft of sunlight on the floor. Her eyes blurred.
“Why?”
“Blood bonds are transformative.”
“And you needed him transformed?”
“Any Enforcer can destroy, Gaia. But an Enforcer with the capability of destroying completely, who can also wield vengeance and justice—that man can be terrifying. And I need Christan to be terrifying.”
A well-dressed man entered the living room. He was tall with short brown hair. Lexi noticed he wore red suspenders beneath his suit jacket, and he was carrying a tray with a white ceramic carafe and two cups on delicate saucers. He set the tray silently on the table. The impression he made was that of an academic, perhaps an advisor, but Lexi suspected he was something quite different. It was in the way he moved.
The music had stopped, and the weight of silence became oppressive. To distract herself, Lexi studied the bookshelves that lined one wall. Artifacts from several centuries were displayed, bits of black and red pottery, bone fetishes. Small antlers were tied with red woven cords, reminding Lexi of the driftwood, tied with red thread, which she’d kept at her cottage before it was destroyed.
Beside the antlers were books with bindings that appeared old and authentic. The dry scent of leather was tangible in the air.
“Do you like books?” Three asked.
“I see you have several on alchemy.”
“I was one of the original alchemists.”
“Christan said he was created.”
The immortal nodded “The theories were mine, as was the Agreement. The magic was Two’s area of expertise.”
Three reached for the carafe. From the aroma, it was coffee and the immortal poured two cups, asking if Lexi desired cream or sugar. Yes, to the cream, Lexi nodded. No to the sugar. It was all quite civilized. The woman handed over the cup and explained how the murder instilled fear in the Calata and they’d demanded some means for self-protection. But it was risky magic, Three said as she lifted her cup to her lips. The alchemists were creating a new species, half-immortal and half-human. They were careful with the knowledge. Lexi remembered Marge saying the magic was too dangerous to be left in the world.
“Did you destroy the magic, or is it hidden?”
No answer.
“Surely you can fight with human weapons and mercenaries. You don’t need warriors.”
“Humans have become quite imaginative with their killing,” agreed Three. But warriors possessed unique talents that couldn’t be replaced with robots and drones. Enforcers like Christan were essential. They kept the peace in an immortal society notoriously difficult to control. Without control, Three explained, there would be chaos. Since the beginning, there had been those who wanted power. Enforcers were required to put the rebellions down. No other beings possessed the power, other than Calata—and even then, there was some question now that the blood bond had been performed. The explanation was given with the bite of winter lost in an interim world. Lexi found it unnerving.
“You always anticipated needing Christan to be more powerful than he was.”
The immortal nodded. “The threat is complex and simple at the same time. Power is balanced on the Calata, but I realized the day would come when one member would want more power than the others. You understand the Agreement is weakening. We believe these attacks on the girls are designed to draw out our Enforcers, to destroy them.”
“Wouldn’t that be an attack on all the Calata?”
Three made a dismissive gesture. “Not all warriors mated, particularly those serving the male members of the Calata. They felt it wasn’t advantageous.”
“Then these attacks are aimed directly at you?”
“One has also suffered attacks. I believe even Two’s girls have been attacked. I couldn’t protect them all and fight a war without bringing Christan back. The only question was whether you were worth the risk.”
“Because he hated me?”
“Because you look too much like Gemma. You remind him of something that is not true, yet he believes it as fiercely as he denies every argument I make. I knew he would never agree to anything if you were involved. I took the risk that your guilt over what Gemma did would drive you to make amends, to the extent of saving his life.”
Lexi glanced down and brushed one finger across the new memory line. Gemma’s line, entwined around the others. “You used me.”
Three nodded. “When I forced Christan to commit to the Agreement, I was using you. I did the same thing after forcing him from the Void. I’m using you now by keeping you here and I’ll continue to use you if necessary. I’ve used all the girls.”
“Do you even consider what Christan wants?”
“I’m quite fond of him.”
“You’ve asked him to do horrendous things.”
“He has always accepted the necessity.”
The immortal replaced her cup on the tray and rose to her feet. She walked to the windows. Beyond the thick glass, the water in the bay reflected moving shards of silver light. The weather was changing. Clouds were massing on the horizon. Seabirds cried in the distance.
“You believe he now seeks redemption?” Three asked. “For these sins I’ve forced him to commit?”
“Why did Christan go into the Void?”
“He has not told you?”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t even if I asked. You, however, don’t have any qualms.”
Three’s posture remained elegant, thoughtful, but Lexi could read the tension in the woman’s back.
“After Gemma’s death, Christan had a blood debt against Kace. He would have collected if I hadn’t intervened. Such an ac
t would have caused a Calata war, but that is not why Christan put himself in the Void.” Three paused, as if considering her words. “I asked him to do something, and the result was so horrendous he believes he is no longer the man he once was—or could ever be again.”
“What did you ask him to do?”
“Something that is now immortal myth.” Three made a slight negative movement with her head. “It was easy enough. An immortal killed innocent women and children. I found the crime grotesque. I demanded justice and embedded a one word for vengeance so deeply into Christan’s mind he will never be free. Then I ordered him into the jungle. Ordered him to extend the execution for twenty-three days, one day for each victim. I told him to break each bone, wait until the immortal healed and break the bones again. Strip the flesh until the files swarmed. When Christan asked to extend mercy in the form of a quick death, I denied him. Compelled him through the one word to continue as I had asked. They call it the eighteen days of dying. That’s how long it took me to realize what I’d done. But I waited too long. Christan had given up too much of himself and I almost couldn’t pull him back.”
Three was quiet. Then she turned and put her back to the light. Her tone was suddenly bitter.
“I chose his life for him,” she said. “I damaged him in the process. But you, Gaia—you destroyed him in that lifetime. When he came out of that jungle he needed you more than he ever needed anyone in his long life. You were the one person who could have convinced him of the truth. Offered him redemption. And your answer was to turn your back and ask his greatest enemy to kill him.”
But the immortal was not finished. When she spoke, the words were stones laid heavily on Lexi’s heart.
“Christan could have endured everything, except one thing. He was created to be an Enforcer, a man of justice and honor. But he could not protect you from Kace. When he saw you on that road, when—after the fighting was over and he found your broken body—he realized that he’d lost all sense of honor. He believed that he'd failed in his responsibility to protect you. That was the sin he could not forgive and it was not even his sin, Gaia. It was yours, when you hated him enough to run to Kace.”
The coffee cup clattered as Lexi returned it to the tray. All this time, she had believed asking Kace to kill him was the worst thing she’d ever done. But now she saw the depth of the destruction. Beneath her skin, Gemma’s memory line began to twist. Lexi gripped her wrist, trying to halt the pain.
Nothing helped. The images flared, burned: Christan, staring into the fire, hearing her voice. Turning his head, a look of such deep grief and pain. Guilt. Anger. Lexi bent beneath it. Gemma had looked at him—god, she remembered the disgust in the curl of Gemma’s mouth. The irritation Gemma felt over her own selfish hurts, the precise expression on her face when she turned and walked from the room.
Trembling, Lexi wondered how she could fight her way through those memories and still look at Christan. He said he’d forgiven Gemma, but Lexi couldn’t forgive herself. Not now. There was only one thought that was coherent.
“You keep calling me Gaia.”
“Because you are Gaia. You’re Gemma. You’re all of them.”
Lexi found it difficult to sit still. The look on Christan’s face was beaten into her memory. That night on a moon-shot road so long ago, when she’d thought the bitter condemnation on his face had been directed at her—it had been directed toward himself. He stood alone in the glow of silver as if he was disappearing into a cold black place from which he would never return—and she hadn’t even tried to reach him, answer him. He’d been destroyed, worse than anything she’d seen other than when he’d been bending over her in Zurich with his hands on her face. Her eyes were too blurry to see the skyline of Seattle, but she pretended a great interest.
“Where is Christan?”
“You mean where did he go after he destroyed a three-story building in Zurich?” The Immortal had returned to her chair. “He’s gone to war.”
“I’m not sure what that means.”
“It means he went back to Florence, and when he didn’t find you there, he did what he does best—he destroys things. Arsen and Darius are with him.”
Lexi shifted restlessly. “Only two warriors went with him?”
“You’re worried?” Three arched a blond eyebrow. “Don’t be. You’ve seen him fight when he was only annoyed. Now he’s angry and vengeful and he has a blood bond flowing in his veins. There was a reason why civilizations in Central America made blood sacrifices to keep him pacified. He abhorred the practice and retreated to Europe. He will send a much-needed message to Six, and then he will calm down and we will have a rational conversation.”
“Do you understand Christan at all?”
“I understand him quite well.”
“Yet you’ve manipulated every aspect of his life, forced him—by your own words—to do the things you require. Did you ever give him a choice? Or were all the repeating lifetimes with me simply a way to get him to do what you want?”
Three’s expression was impassive. “Your description lacks a certain flair.”
“And your actions reveal your total lack of understanding when it comes to human love.”
“Christan has always made his own decisions. He follows a code of honor, and you do him a disservice if you think I can manipulate him to such an extent. He wanted those lifetimes with you and I gave them to him. I manipulated the circumstances, but I also gave him options. He makes his own choices. But you, Gaia, you have surpassed my expectations.”
“In what way?” Lexi asked, oddly detached now that the shock had passed.
“You would do anything to protect him now.”
Lexi shifted her gaze slightly, caught by the sparkle of light reflecting through the windows. The bay had taken on the look of dented metal, and Lexi imagined her heart was as bruised as the water. It hurt, so damn much to realize every painful turn in every repeating lifetime was based upon options to achieve Three’s desired end. The enormity of that realization was crippling.
What had Renata said? “You are a used thing, not even in control of your own choices.”
And Katerina believed her entire life was a lie.
Perhaps that was Christan’s hidden truth, the secret he kept from himself, the sentiment he had tried to put into words when he told her not to hope for happy endings with someone as far from her as he was.
They stood on opposite sides of a moon-shot road with no way to reach across. He’d been tortured because Three needed him bound to a bond in blood he didn’t want. Lexi had taken away his choice as he had taken hers all those centuries ago. Not through love, or need, or even desire, but because human emotions had been exploited by an immortal who needed a weapon to fight a war.
Lexi could see how it played out, lifetime after lifetime. How she and Christan were irrevocably changed. There was nothing she could do to alter that, other than take away the leverage. Most of her life had been spent learning how to take away the leverage that other people had to hurt her. Her mother. Men who were not Christan. This was no different. She could put an end to this cycle that was slowly destroying their lives. Using her. To force Christan. Because Three had wars to fight.
Lexi stared through the windows, saw the boat dock beyond the deck, rising gently on the incoming tide. The clouds that danced like angels on the horizon. The stars she knew were hidden in that deep recess and would only be visible at midnight. She counted them, tears leaking from her heart.
Love, he had said, was for the angels, and he had never been allowed in heaven.
Time thinned out, buried in pain. But perhaps, in the end, the immortal had been right. Lexi would to anything to protect Christan.
“I would like to go home.”
“Back to Florence?”
“To Rock Cove.”
“He will find you there.”
Lexi refocused, directly meeting those strange silver eyes. “Not if you mask my presence.”
“I can certainly
mask your energy, if that’s what you want—although you can do that for yourself, now. There were benefits to you, too, with the blood bond.”
“I don’t want them.”
“Unfortunately, they’re irrevocable.” Three folded her slim hands and rested them in her lap. “But I would ask first why you want me to do this.”
“If you must ask,” Lexi said quietly, “then you don’t understand anything.”
Three tapped an elegant finger against her silk-clad knee.
“Two said something to me before she went away. She said that it began with Gaia, and it would end with Gaia. What do you think that meant?”
“I have no idea.”
“You do surprise me,” Three murmured again. “I don’t think this will be the end between you and me.”
CHAPTER 39
Rock Cove, Oregon
Lexi cried for the first two weeks. She hid in her cottage at Rock Cove, tucked high above the churning sea. Arsen had been true to his word. The entire interior had been replaced, and her possessions—those with the most meaning—had been put back into place. But she couldn’t sleep in a new bed that sat against a new wall without thinking about the cat that was still a kitten and had trusted too much. She dragged a blanket and pillow into the empty guest bedroom and curled on the floor.
Eventually her body protested, and Lexi pulled the mattress from the bed. But she remained on the floor because the cottage no longer felt like home. She slept in the dark, ate in the dark, never ventured outside during the rain-filled days. Her entire world alternated between the mattress, where she dreamed, and the couch, where she stared sightlessly through the windows and watched the gray fog as it swallowed the setting sun.
When a month passed and winter began to settle in, someone knocked gently on the door. Lexi refused to answer, but Marge came back every afternoon and quietly knocked, often leaving a bag of groceries, or a container of soup. By the end of week six, Lexi answered the door. Her face was pale. The deep smudges beneath her eyes gave her a haunted look. Marge just held her, wrapped her arms around a waist too thin, shoulders too broken, finally urging her onto the couch where Marge rocked her like a child.
