“He clearly did not expect to be accompanying you as the Guardian into Xahar’áhsh. His actions reveal a previous indecision, which is admittedly out of character for Leandras Vilafor. Perhaps he already had his suspicions. A mere glimmer of possibilities he’d not previously considered. The Laen’aroth did not want a branch from the Mahayál merely because it would have sealed his purpose and delivered him from the freedom to choose for himself.”
“It’s not his job to choose,” Jessica snapped.
“Not as Vem-da’án, perhaps. But as the Laen’aroth? It most assuredly is.” The dryad’s lips cracked into another root-filled grin. “With the Madraqór not yet committed to a final purpose and his deepest secrets exposed, Leandras has chosen to align himself with us. Which will be entirely for naught if he remains within the Dalu’Rázj’s quickly tightening grasp.”
“So I have to help him with the Thon-Rothím.”
“You don’t have to do anything, Jessica.” Steve shifted in his armchair to face her more directly. “Either way, if he swears himself to you or not, the Order of Laenmúr is with you. We have more than enough to make our stand. We’ll do it either way.”
“Not to say the aid of that particular fae is without value,” Reynaldo added, stroking his chin. “And I’m sure no one would argue that our chances of success are greater with Leandras at our side.”
“No, but that’s the problem.” Jessica gritted her teeth. Maybe calling this meeting was a bad idea. Instead of clarifying the right choice, things were only getting more muddled and complicated by the second. “If he’s finally telling me the truth, all of it, yeah. We could seriously use his help. But if he’s still lying?”
“You get to spend the rest of your life with a fae slave who betrayed you,” Cedrick said. His crooked smile made it obvious he was trying to joke around about this whole thing. Lighten the mood.
Jessica glared at him, and Mel smacked his chest with the back of a hand just to emphasize the same opinion.
“The choice is yours alone,” Boris grumbled. “We cannot make it for you.”
“I know.” Jessica swallowed. “Is there...a chance he could still use the Madraqór for the Dalu’Rázj instead of against him?”
The dryad spread his arms, knocking off huge flakes of bark against the couch’s armrest as his twig-like fingers unfurled. “There is always a chance, Jessica. For plans to change. For hearts to evolve. For unintended consequences. Including with those we assume have already marked themselves for a certain path, yes?”
Great. The talking tree had nothing better to say than a cryptic reminder that everyone had free will and could turn against themselves and each other at any given moment, just like that. Even the fae who served both the Laenmúr and the Dalu’Rázj.
“Jess.” Mel stared at her with wide eyes. “Just for a second, stop thinking about it.”
“Kinda hard, Mel.” A tight, bitter grin forced itself onto Jessica’s face. “If I stop thinking, I might end up as the only Guardian in history who killed two worlds. And the last, obviously.”
“Yeah, that’s a lot of pressure.” The witch dipped her head in agreement. “But right now, you don’t have to make a choice. So just forget about what could go wrong and be completely honest. What do you want?”
A humorless laugh burst from Jessica’s lips. “I want someone to tell me I’m not making a huge mistake.”
“By trusting him?”
“Maybe, yeah.”
“Then that’s what you want. To believe he won’t turn on you, on all of us, at the last second.” Mel lifted her shoulders in a tiny, almost embarrassed shrug. “Go with your gut, right?”
“Good advice. But my gut isn’t exactly the best guide. We all know that.”
“Not all of us.” Steve frowned at her. “I haven’t seen anything to make me question your role in this.”
“I get that. And I’m trying.” Jessica gestured toward her friends. “I’m talking about the happy couple over here who’ve known me a lot longer than anyone else.”
Cedrick barked out a surprised laugh, which made Jessica instantly regret her sarcastic reference to the relationship her friends had started while she was in prison.
This wasn’t the time or the place to hash all that out, and it really didn’t even matter at this point.
Mel’s pained frown said differently, but true to form, the witch brushed Jessica’s unintended jab aside and focused on the conversation that did matter. “Can I say something you probably don’t wanna hear?”
Jessica briefly closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she fixed her friend with an exasperated stare. “Just one more drop in the bucket, right?”
“Yeah, but it’s important. And I think you should hear it.” Mel leaned away from Cedrick and scooted forward until she sat at the edge of the couch cushion, staring intently at Jessica. She clasped her hands in her lap and took a deep breath. “If it were you and me, Jess... If I had to make this decision and you were in Leandras’ shoes, I’d go with my gut and cast this Thon-Rothím with you. For you. Even if I couldn’t convince myself you wouldn’t try to turn it around and use it to do something awful.”
Cedrick leaned slowly away from his girlfriend—and wasn’t that a trip to realize that was exactly what Mel was?—and raised his eyebrows. “Wow.”
Yeah. Wow.
Jessica’s entire face hurt now under the effort of forcing herself not to completely fall apart.
If they were stripping down the past to lay it all out on the table, then sure, this role reversal had already happened. Twice.
The first time, when Mel and Cedrick and the rest of their Corpus family had raged against Mickey after hearing from the Matahg’s own cursed lips that he’d turned Jessica in for all their crimes—plus a few of his own that had nothing to do with the rest of them. They’d wanted to kill him. Jessica had too, but she’d already cast the Shattering, told none of them, and instead promised her family of thieves and magical criminals that she could handle it. Because even together, they didn’t have a chance against the bastard who’d made them a family and his victims at the same time. Somehow, they’d trusted her not to rat them all out for a better deal.
And the second was when Leandras had helped Jessica trap that same bastard so she could draw what remained of Mickey’s soul from his body to restore that magic. The entire Laenmúr chapter in that warehouse had helped Jessica with the second phase of the reckoning, even after witnessing what a vestrohím’s returning power was truly capable of doing to a single Matahg. Even Mel and Cedrick had joined her.
They’d seen her darkness, they’d seen what she could do and how helpless she was against the demented pleasure she took from it, and they’d helped her anyway.
They’d trusted her not to turn on them the second her magic was fully restored, because she’d accepted her fate as the Guardian and had showed up to do the best she could with what she had.
If Jessica could be redeemed like that, she’d be throwing it all away by denying Leandras the same opportunity.
He wanted to prove himself. She had to let him.
Right?
Boris broke the silence with another growling chuckle. “I see there’s more to that revelation than the rest of us understand. But I must agree with the powerful insights of the Guardian’s old friend.”
Mel shot the dryad a sidelong glance accompanied by a tiny smirk. “I’m not old.”
Reynaldo burst out laughing. “Listen to that! The witch has more bark than you, my friend.”
Boris turned toward the gnome and only had to whip a few dry, sand-colored vines away from his shoulders before Reynaldo’s laughter cut off abruptly and he cleared his throat.
“She’s right, Jess.” Cedrick leaned forward, propping his forearms on his thighs and clasping his hands together. When Jessica finally forced herself to look at him, he held her gaze and nodded. “I’d do the same thing.”
“That’s great. Really.” Jessica’s nose burned, and she bit back her next words
until she was mostly sure her voice wouldn’t tremble with oncoming tears when she continued. “But you guys have known me for years. In case it just slipped your mind, that’s a lot longer than a few months.”
The changeling shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Not when it still feels like forever, right?”
Sure. The last few months had felt like eternity as Jessica struggled to figure out what the hell the magical world wanted of her. And her time spent with Leandras before, during, and after their trip through an otherworld portal?
Yeah, that felt like years.
Steve’s living room filled with a tense silence as everyone stared at the Guardian and waited for her to either bring up more items on the agenda or call an end to the emergency meeting.
Jessica couldn’t think of anything else. Which meant the meeting was apparently over, though it still felt like an emergency.
“Okay.” She scratched the side of her head, studied Steve’s yellow- and green-striped area rug, then stood. “Thanks. I guess that’s all I needed.”
“You don’t look all that happy with the results,” Steve said.
“Yeah, well, it’s more than I had when I got here, so that’s a start.”
He stood and offered his hand. “We’ll wait for the next steps. Whatever happens with the Laen’aroth, the Laenmúr are with you.”
“Thanks.” She took his hand, and they shook briefly. Jessica couldn’t look into the warlock’s eyes much longer than a few seconds.
Steve had way more faith in her than she deserved, probably. Mel, Cedrick, and the pair of strange old magicals on the couch seemed to feel the same way, but that wouldn’t continue if Jessica screwed up.
“And I should thank the rest of you too,” she added, turning toward the others. “For dropping everything to meet me.”
“None of our priorities take precedence over the Guardian’s requests.” Boris set a crumbly hand against his even crumblier chest and dipped his head.
Reynaldo scrutinized the rug. “Though the scrolls on my desk won’t translate themselves—”
“Gnome!”
“Ah, yes.” The gnome shied away from his friend. “But it can wait. We’re happy to have been of at least some small assistance, for what it’s worth.”
“Yeah, it definitely helped.” Jessica turned and meant to look at Mel, but the witch was already on her feet and heading toward her. Blinking quickly, Jessica tried to smile. “You still have really good advice. But you don’t always have to go for the throat.”
Cedrick snorted and stayed on the couch.
“That part isn’t actually ever intentional.” With a short laugh, Mel pulled Jessica in for another hug before whispering one more time in her ear. “The truth hurts sometimes, Jess. We all know that. But sometimes, the pain is the only thing that makes everything else mean something.”
When the pink-haired witch pulled away, her blue eyes flickered back and forth as she studied Jessica’s gaze. Like she was looking for a sign that Jessica understood.
Of course she understood. She just wasn’t as eloquent as Mel Thomas the high-end thief turned professional artist.
Jessica squeezed her friend’s shoulders, then peered past Mel to raise an eyebrow at Cedrick. “Tell her to take it easy on the philosophy books, huh?”
“Jess...” Mel huffed out a laugh and rolled her eyes.
“Seriously. She doesn’t listen to me.”
Cedrick shook his head, his crooked smile growing. “Me neither.”
“Okay. I’ll let you guys know what’s up when it’s time.” Nodding again at the small gathering who’d tried to help with her impossible decision, Jessica turned and headed for the front door to let herself out. She stopped with a hand on the doorknob to add, “And if you get another text that doesn’t sound like me, that’s because it’s not actually me. So don’t freak out.”
Reynaldo fell into a fit of cackling. The rest of them just shot her confused looks before Jessica booked it out the front door and headed down the sidewalk in the frigid January air that dried out her lungs and her skin.
She walked quickly and pulled out her phone, ready to snag another Uber once she’d made it at least three blocks from Steve’s house. Standing around outside and waiting for someone else to give her a ride didn’t exactly scream “the Guardian’s in total control.”
Plus, Jessica still needed a few last moments to herself to go over what she already knew and the small, slightly helpful bits of information from a group of trusted Laenmúr on Earth.
None of it felt right. The pieces still didn’t fit together in a neat pattern she could see. For a long time, and especially when Corpus was still active and knocking down safe doors, Jessica prided herself on her ability to find loopholes. The fact she couldn’t spot a single one when it came to her next vital move with Leandras made the decision that much harder to make.
But she still had to make it. The Guardian was the only one who could.
Jessica sincerely hoped one single, agonizing choice wouldn’t bring the darkness from another world swarming down on all of them before they were ready.
And she’d be lying to herself if she said the darkness inside a vestrohím who could raise the dead didn’t terrify her just as much.
Chapter 24
The bell over the entrance to Winthrop & Dirledge jingled and clacked violently when Jessica threw open the door. She stormed inside, knowing she had to act quickly before she completely lost her nerve.
This was insane.
She was insane.
“Leandras.” There was no reply from behind the open door of the office, so she headed across the lobby, her fists clenched at her sides.
‘Oh, hey. Yeah. Nice to see you too.’ The bank snorted. ‘How’d it go?’
Jessica ignored the question; the answer would be clear enough to all of them in a minute, though the bank would most likely pick it out of her jumbled brain in the next two—
‘Not even that long, witch. Huh. You know, I’d say I’m not surprised, but this whole thing is way more twisted than I imagined. Just like your brain. So yeah, I’m kinda surprised. You sure this is really what you wanna do?’
I need you to shut up so I don’t flake out.
Fortunately, the bank could also see how fiercely she needed its complete silence and did exactly that.
“Leandras.” Jessica’s heartbeat pounded furiously in her own ears as she approached the office-guestroom. “Listen, this really isn’t something that can wait, so whatever you’re doing in there, give it—”
She stopped short when a single quick glance showed her nothing but an empty room with slightly crooked shelving, a chipped dresser, and a stained bedspread stretched tidily across the lumpy mattress on the floor.
He was gone.
“Leandras?” Jessica whirled around and studied the lobby.
Jesus Christ, if he’d bailed on her already, then she didn’t have to make a decision at all.
You just let him get up and walk away?
Her fists clenched painfully at her sides, her knuckles already sore and tight and her short nails still biting into her palms.
Bank!
‘You told me to shut up.’
“And now I’m asking you a question,” she snarled and stormed across the lobby again toward the back hallway.
‘Fine. Yes, I let him get up—’
“What is wrong with you?”
‘Cool your chaos jets, witch! You didn’t say anything about keeping him in the bed and off his feet.’
No, but Leandras was gone either way. And here she was, trusting a sentient bank to keep an eye on the fae man who could literally make or break their final upcoming battle that was now a lot more likely to kill everyone.
‘He’s not gone, Jessica. He just—’
“Jessica?” Leandras darted out of the kitchen just as she reached the entrance, and they almost ran right into each other. Again. He froze and looked her up and down, his eyes wide in concern and a piece of blackene
d toast lifted in each hand. “What happened?”
‘See?’ Yes, the bank had also mastered the art of sounding just as smug as the fae man, when the moment struck. ‘You know what? It’s crap like this that makes me wish the mind-reading worked both ways. If I had a meat-bag’s version of a brain. You gotta stop putting words in my mouth just ’cause you think you know everything.’
Jessica could only stare at the toast.
“Jessica?” Leandras stepped back into the kitchen to toss the toast somewhere onto the counter—preferably a plate, but who knew with him?—and immediately returned to grab her gently by the shoulders. “What is it? Tell me. Whatever it is—”
“You’re still here.” An overwhelming dread flooded through her, because for a second, she’d really thought the choice had already been made for her. Now the disappointment of being the one who had to make it hit her all over again and almost wiped away the courage she’d built up for this moment.
“Of course. You told me not to leave.” He looked her up and down again, clearly confused by her vacant staring and sudden speechlessness now she’d found him.
So was she, honestly.
Leandras removed his hands from her shoulders and leaned away. “I’m sorry. I assumed I still had use of your kitchen, and... Well, it seems the only items that hadn’t perished over the last three days were your bread and peanut butter—”
“Are you sure this is what you want?” she muttered.
The fae cocked his head, a frown flickering over and over between his eyebrows. “Honestly, I prefer eggs for breakfast. And bacon. But you obviously haven’t restocked your—”
“Not toast, Leandras. The Thon-Rothím.” Jessica swallowed and hated how flat and emotionless she sounded. It was the only way to keep herself from freaking out and tossing everything out the proverbial window—Leandras, her role as the Guardian, her part to play, owning the bank. All of it.
‘Stop being so dramatic. You’d have to drop dead to get rid of me.’
That might still happen.
Leandras studied her face, which she assumed looked like a blank mask without any emotional nuance whatsoever. At least, that was what her face felt like, which was amazing considering all the fear and uncertainty and the agony of not knowing what to do raging beneath the surface.
The Spellcast Gate (Accessory to Magic Book 5) Page 25
