Visions

by Kelley Armstrong

  A few more steps in silence.

  "Gabriel?"

  "Oh, are you finished? I didn't want to get in the way of your backpedaling. And don't give me that look or I will return it in kind. I thought we were past the point of laughing this off. Also past the point of interpreting my thoughtful silence as disbelief."

  "Sorry."

  "I was processing the information. I believe all of it. How could I not? I come from a family with strange gifts. Second sight is the most obvious, but we have other abilities, less obviously supernatural but clearly above normal. Inherent . . . aptitudes for certain iniquitous talents."

  "Like deception? Lying? Betray--"

  "I was going to say sleight of hand."

  "Ah." We turned a corner, and I continued. "So the girl raised as Ciara Conway was a modern-day changeling. Switched at birth to give her a better life."

  "Although, given her recent addiction, it didn't matter. What's bred in the bone . . ."

  I glanced over and saw the tightness in his face, his gaze fixed ahead while he continued. "As for the murder of Ciara Conway and what it means to you, that part is still a mystery."

  "Is it?" I stopped walking. "Yes. There has to be a motive beyond publicly exposing the switch, which has failed anyway. Who killed her? I don't care what Tristan says, he was involved. As for what it means to me? A way to reveal the secrets of Cainsville that might make me turn tail and run? I don't know. I need to find more answers."

  "And you expect to find them here?"

  He waved, and I looked over to see where I'd stopped. In front of the Carew house. Gabriel peered at me.

  "Ah, not an intentional choice of destination, then," he said. "Following the signs."

  "I wasn't--"

  "Of course you were. You just didn't realize it. Come along. We have a house to break into."

  --

  Again, there was no need to break in. The rear door was still unlocked.

  "Lead on," Gabriel said as we stood in the kitchen.

  "I don't know where--"

  "You followed your instincts here. Keep following them."

  I gazed around the kitchen. The windows were still shuttered, shrouding the room in darkness. I took out my switchblade and flipped on the LED.

  "Your new knife has a light?" he said.

  "Ricky thought it might come in handy," I said. "I don't know where he got that idea."

  Gabriel chuckled. I looked at him, poised there, scanning the room, his body tense but his face relaxed, eyes glittering with the same thing I felt, adrenaline coursing through me, enjoying the adventure far more than I should. Gabriel glanced over, a smile playing on his lips, and for a split second the room faded and I was standing--

  "Olivia?"

  I snapped back to the kitchen and looked around, getting my bearings.

  "Follow your gut," he said.

  I nodded and headed into the dining room. As I passed through it and into the living room, my gaze tripped along the friezes at the top, the magpies and the crows. I shone my light up at them. "That's an answer, isn't it?"

  "To which question?"

  "One about me. About the Carews and the Bowens. They have fae blood. I have it."

  He tilted his head as if to say, Was that really in question? I suppose I had already drawn that conclusion. I just hadn't articulated it.

  When we reached the top of the stairs, I didn't pause to figure out where to go. Into the room with the triskelion owl inlay. The room where I'd seen the vision of the bean nighe.

  I opened the blinds. Once again moonlight shone through all three shards of stained glass to light the owls.

  "The last time I stepped into that circle, I saw a vision. Let's see if I can do it again."

  I had to pass Gabriel, and when I did, he gave my hand a squeeze, so subtle I could almost believe our hands merely brushed. I offered a wan smile. Then I stepped into the circle and the room disappeared.

  --

  I woke on a balcony. It took me a moment to realize that, my senses coming to life in slow succession. Smell first, the rich scent of night and fire and, on the breeze, forest and hounds and horses. Sensation next, that breeze caressing my face, tugging at me. Then sound, the breeze whispering for me to come out and play. Come out and hunt. Finally sight, seeing the distant forest across a seemingly endless meadow.

  I felt metal beneath my hands and looked down to see them gripping a railing that shimmered in the moonlight, bright gold inlaid with silver. When I blinked, the silver and gold seemed to ripple and I could make out moving images within. It was the most amazing thing, and I wanted to look closer, but my body wouldn't move. Instead, I felt the pull of that forest and leaned over the railing, my hair blowing in the breeze as I strained to see . . .

  "Matilda?"

  I turned. Or, not me, just as it hadn't been me straining over the balcony. I had wanted a closer look at the railing. Whoever's body I inhabited did not. Now she turned to the open balcony doors. A figure stood in the darkness and her heart leapt. She laughed softly, as if to herself.

  Will that never change? We'll be married tomorrow, and I still feel this way every time I see him. The sun rises when he arrives and sets when he goes.

  Except, sometimes, as warm and bright as that sun is, I long for night.

  "Matilda?"

  The man was still in shadow, but it did little to hide him. His skin glowed golden. His hair, too, shimmered with an unearthly light.

  "Come in," he said. "It's cold, and it's dark."

  "I'm going out. One last hunt." She smiled and hoped it carried enough charm to fend off--

  His lips curved in a frown. There was no anger in it. Just concern and, maybe, disappointment.

  "You know you can't. It's our wedding day."

  "Not yet. We still have--"

  "The clock has struck twelve. It's the day. You agreed--"

  "One last time. Before we're wed. I won't be long. It just . . ." She looked out at the forest. "It calls to me."

  "It will always call to you. Here calls to you. There calls to you. I call to you. He calls to you."

  She glanced back. "Arawn is a friend. Mine and yours. Nothing more. Never more. I've never been unfaithful, not in word or deed, not in heart or head."

  "There's more than heart and head, Matilda." He stepped forward, and I swore I could feel the warmth of him, more delicious than any fire. "You had to choose. I realize that's not fair. It's choosing between two halves of your soul. But that is what had to be. Mallt-y-Dydd. Mallt-y-Nos. That is your choice. Your fate. If you believe you chose wrong . . ."

  "Never."

  She stepped into his arms, and as they wrapped around her, heat enveloped me, his lips coming to hers as his kiss consumed her, burned away every shred of doubt.

  This is the right choice. It has always been the right choice.

  His hands moved down to her waist, heat burning like wildfire in their wake.

  "Let me make you my wife," he said. "Now."

  "The ceremony--"

  "No one will know."

  She wanted that, as she'd wanted nothing else in her life. Lust and desire and need. And love. She wanted to be with him for now and forever, and nothing else--

  A hound bayed. She turned to follow the sound. She looked out and saw nothing, but she knew they were there, in the darkness. The hounds and the riders. The Cwn Annwn. Calling her back for one last ride. One last hunt. One last goodbye.

  "Tonight," she said as she pulled away. "I will be yours tonight. As soon as I return."

  He tried to grab her, but she was already out of reach. She ran. She heard him behind her, running after her, begging her not to do this.

  "You made a vow," he shouted, his voice growing dimmer as she raced through the castle. "The day has come. You cannot break your vow. If you do--"

  The baying of hounds and the stomping of steeds drowned him out. She ran into the courtyard. They were there. The riders. The hounds. And Arawn. He smiled and reached down to t
ake her hand, pulling her effortlessly onto the back of his mount.

  She held him tight, arms and legs wrapped around him. He reached back, his hand on her thigh, but she pushed it off.

  That is not the choice I'm making. I just want this last night, this last hunt.

  As we rode, a boom sounded over the thunder of the hooves. Matilda turned to look back at the castle, and she instinctively shaded her eyes, knowing it would shine blindingly bright. Her castle. The palace of the Tylwyth Teg, where she would dance on her wedding night and--

  There was no glowing castle. Only darkness, lit by a single spot of light. A single sunbeam.

  She scrambled off the horse, falling behind its hooves, one striking her in the thigh. Arawn cried out, circling back, but she was already on her feet, running.

  The castle was gone. No sign of it. Only that ray of light. Still she ran, somehow faster than the horses, hot on her heels. Arawn called for her, told her it was gone, forever gone, and that was the choice she had made, the right choice, and she would never regret it.

  No! I made my choice. Gwynn. The Tylwyth Teg. It was just one last hunt, before our wedding night. One last night, before endless day.

  But now it was night, all around her, closing in, and she didn't feel the pull of it, the seduction of it. It was dark, and it was cold. Yet one ray remained. One last ray. One way to touch him.

  To say I was wrong. I was young. I was foolish.

  "Matilda! No!"

  She ran into the beam and braced for the light and the warmth, imagining the feel of it against her skin--

  Fire. Flame scorched through her, white-hot agony. She screamed and fell to her knees and--

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  I crumpled to the ground, hard ground, so unbelievably cool against my burning skin that I stretched out, plastering my cheek and hands to it.

  Hands pulled me up, and when I lifted my gaze and saw a face, I thought it was him, the golden-haired man, and I let out a cry, relief convulsing through me. It wasn't too late. I hadn't lost everything.

  Then the fever cleared for a second, and I saw pale blue eyes and black hair, and I sobbed louder then, the relief like a tidal wave, seeing Gabriel, knowing I was back and everything would be fine.

  He said something, his words garbled. I blinked hard to clear my head, but the pain and the relief seemed to engulf me, and I couldn't fight my way free. Cool tears slid down my burning cheeks, and I reached up to wipe them away.

  "Sorry," I said. "It's the vision. Just hold on."

  He spoke again, his voice sharp with confusion and concern, and I struggled to fix on him, but part of my brain stayed lost in that vision, still disconnected. The room was blurred and tinged with red. I could see Gabriel's face over mine, but it wouldn't come into focus and his words were still garbled, unintelligible.

  "I don't understand you," I said. "I--"

  Heat roared through me, like being thrust back into that fiery ray of sunlight, and I convulsed, gasping. His cool hand went to my forehead. An exclamation that might have been a curse, but the word meant nothing to me. His arm slid around my shoulders. He said something. I struggled to focus, but even keeping my eyes open was too much effort. The room dipped and flared red.

  He said the word again. I heard syllables then, but still nothing that made any sense. His arm gripped me, his fingers digging into my shoulder.

  "--a!" His voice came clear. "Olivia!"

  I passed out.

  --

  I surfaced into a nightmare world. I was a child, being stolen from my home, carried through the dark streets by a stranger. I'd been asleep when he took me and now I woke, in his arms, feeling the rush of cold night air against my skin, hearing the pound of his footsteps, smelling the stink of sweat and fear.

  My limbs shot out, punching and jabbing and kicking as I struggled to be free. The man said something unintelligible. His face hovered above me. Yet it was no face. Just a pale blur. When I swung, he caught me by the wrist.

  A pounding, like someone kicking a door. A white door. It swung open. A monstrous face leaned out, mouth opening, sharp teeth flashing, coming for me.

  I screamed. Another rush of air as we tumbled through the doorway, the man still holding me tight against my struggles.

  A woman's voice now, the words meaningless. I caught sight of the man's featureless face again and swung my fist up. It connected with a thwack. The man grunted but still didn't let go, carrying me upstairs now, into a yawning pit of darkness lit only by a distant wavering orange light.

  Fire. He was taking me into the fire. My skin already burned, and he was going to throw me into--

  Another light. Blinding. White. The shock of it stopped the pounding in my head for a split second, and I heard a voice, and words now.

  "Ice! We need ice!"

  The arms lowered me to the floor. I thrashed there, moaning, fire scouring through me, so hot it burned away the nightmare, and I caught sight of a purple towel hanging on a rack. I'd seen that towel before. Admired the color.

  Where had I seen it? Where was I?

  A gurgling sound. Then a roar. Water rushing into a tub.

  Whose bathroom?

  I struggled to hold on to the questions. My brain kept dropping them as I writhed on the floor, moaning, my mind and body ablaze. A dark shape blocked the searing light, and I blinked up to see--

  Gabriel. I saw Gabriel.

  I tried to say something, but words wouldn't come. He scooped me up. Then he lowered me into a tub of cold water. I yelped and flailed. He held me down, and the world threatened to tip into nightmare again, being held in a tub of cold water, drowned in--

  "Olivia? Can you hear me?"

  He knelt beside the tub, face above mine, hands on my shoulders, holding me in the tub but not pushing me under.

  "You have a fever," he said. "You're burning up. You were delirious."

  "Where . . . ?" The answer came with a click as I saw the towels again. "Rose."

  "She's downstairs calling the doctor and getting ice."

  "Ice." I shivered at the thought of it. "Please. Yes. So . . ." My throat seemed to seize, parched. "So hot."

  "I know."

  His hand brushed sweat-soaked hair from my face. Then he dipped his hand into the water and did it again, the chill so refreshing I sighed.

  "Better?"

  I nodded.

  He leaned over the tub. "You'll be all right."

  He looked down at me, and all I could see were his eyes, those gorgeous blue eyes, sharp with worry, and I swore I could feel their coolness wash over me. I wanted to lose myself in those eyes, just--

  "Ice." Rose strode in, appearing over Gabriel. She looked down at me in the tub. "She's still dressed."

  "Of course," Gabriel said.

  A strained half smile as she shook her head then bent with the bowl of ice. "Is she lucid?" she asked.

  Gabriel nodded as he grabbed the ice and dumped it in. I let out a gasp as the ice hit the water--and me.

  "I was asking so I could warn her before doing that," Rose said. "Can you hear me, Olivia?"

  I nodded.

  "I've called the doctor. She'll be here soon. You should go to the hospital, but Gabriel said--"

  "N-no hospital," I said, teeth chattering. "Please."

  "I know. Gabriel said you don't like them, but if this fever doesn't drop--"

  I didn't hear the rest. The room was tilting, the bright light flickering. My eyelids flagged as I struggled to focus, and then . . . Dark.

  --

  I surfaced to lucidity a few times. Dr. Webster was there once, while I was still in the tub. She said yes, the fever was dropping. Then I woke again as Rose was stripping me out of my wet clothing and Gabriel was pacing outside the closed door, complaining that it was taking so long, that the doctor said I needed to be in bed, Rose snapping that some idiot put me in a tub while dressed and my clothes were practically glued on now.

  Then I woke in bed, Gabriel trying to get me
to drink, which he really should have done after I was fully awake, because I was still fevered and thought I was being poisoned, which meant he ended up wearing the water before I drifted off again.

  When I woke next, it was to Gabriel and Rose arguing--I was dehydrated and if they couldn't get fluids into me, I had to go to the hospital. I roused myself enough then to drink a whole glass of water. Then I zonked out, dimly aware of the glass falling from my hand, hearing it shatter as it hit the hardwood--

  Darkness.

  No matter how deeply my body slept, my fevered brain stayed wide awake, pelting me with nightmares.

  I was back in the Tylwyth Teg castle, as Matilda, smiling when the golden-haired man appeared in the doorway. He kissed me, that incredible storybook kiss, desire and lust and love and need, and I clung to him, never wanting it to end. But then I heard the hounds and the horses, and I pulled from his arms and turned to look out--

  At a cityscape. I was high above the city, the night bejeweled with lights. Gabriel's apartment. I gripped the balcony, and when I looked down, I saw my own hands and heard the distant rev of a motorcycle engine.

  I turned. Gabriel stood in the open patio doorway, his huge frame filling the space, looking awkward and uncomfortable.

  "You don't want me here," I said.

  "It's not that simple."

  "It should be."

  I stepped toward Gabriel. He backed up fast, as if I might do something crazy, like touch him. Below, the rev of the engine called to me.

  I strode to the apartment door. Gabriel made no move to stop me. I pulled it open.

  "Don't leave."

  I caught the words as I walked out, his voice low, as if he hoped I wouldn't hear them. I glanced back. The apartment door was open and empty, only darkness and silence beyond. I ran back, heart pounding as I raced over the threshold into--

  Into a morgue. A single light illuminated a table. A corpse lay on it. My corpse. Someone was working on it, a slight figure in hospital scrubs and a face mask.

  "You're supposed to be standing watch," the figure said. It was a woman's voice. Vaguely familiar but too muffled by the mask to be identifiable.

  "I am," said a man.

  I turned to see Tristan sitting on a counter, his legs dangling. He looked amused.