Enchanter's Echo (20 page)

Trash. The Pipe. It kept coming back to that.

And he had to get back there. He stood up and surveyed his family. Maybe he couldn’t blame them for thinking he was the culprit. They’d seen his true power once. They’d scrambled to figure out how to contain that one spell. Thank the goddess for Jasper, who’d cast a frozen shadow over it, though it needed to be maintained twice a week. That potential ball of doom sat in the third dungeon, two levels beneath the wine cellar.

He could ask Aurora to fix that. Wouldn’t they all sleep better knowing the world’s destruction wasn’t five floors beneath their pillows?

But he wouldn’t be sleeping here. He wasn’t going to hang around and take the blame. He strode past Vincent who moved out of his way this time.

“Where are you going?” His mother’s shrill question reached out behind him.

“I’m leaving.” Let them try to arrest him if they wanted. Even Vincent wasn’t powerful enough to do so.

His mother gasped. “Leaving?”

He turned and squinted at her. “Did you think I’d want to stay after this?”

She huffed a deep breath. Dropping her gaze she spoke in chastened tones, “It’s a powerful vow if you can’t overcome it even when you’re this angry. Your enchantress couldn’t either.”

He got two steps farther before her next words stopped him.

“The High Councilor must have a good reason for placing it on you.”

She’d guessed the truth.

“After all,” his mother continued bitterly, “she only has the good of the Republic at heart. But she’s not looking out for Rallis’s best interests. How are we supposed to help you if you can’t tell us what’s going on?”

He turned to her, his rage finally coming to a boil beneath his skin. “So that was the plan. If Dad wouldn’t rip it out of me, then you’d accuse me until my anger overpowered the vow? Mother, I would have suffocated to death on the floor.” He gave a hard laugh. Betrayal laced his gut.

“This little meeting. It was all a set up?” Vincent’s shock was a real as his own. He paced over until his shoulder brushed Edmund’s, as if he were going to run away with him.

“Well, we couldn’t tell you, Vincent,” their mother explained. “You wouldn’t have kept quiet. Not when it comes to Edmund.”

“So you believe it’s not him.” Vincent kept pushing for the whole story.

“Played by a master, brother.” Edmund stuck his hands in his pockets. He looked down at his suit. He’d wasted his last
Clothe
charm for this farce. He’d have to buy real clothes now because he sure as hell wasn’t taking the time to pack. “Watch yourself around here. Fall under suspicion and Mother will stab you in the back to extract a confession.” He shifted his gaze to his parents and grandfather. “I’m glad Aurora wasn’t here to see this. I’d bet this little scene would remind her of her time in Noble. I wanted to offer her better.”

He strode out. Jasper waited at the front door, his eyes sad. The man always knew everything around here before it happened. He picked up a suitcase that sat on the floor beside him and held it out. “She didn’t mean it. None of them did. They don’t know how to feel helpless.”

He knew that feeling. Helpless was holding onto a metal eye for months and knowing the girl he loved was alone, unprotected, and under the threat of death. He sure as hell hadn’t forced her to confess…. Well, shit. That’s exactly what he’d done.

“Okay, look. You and I have to figure out how to get along.” Aurora braced her hands against her workbench, her version of a healer’s table. She puffed a frustrated breath as she huddled over the toaster.

Since Edmund hadn’t called her about a fissure in over three hours, she was taking this time to check in at the shop. Though what she really wanted was a nap…and to hear his voice, to hear that he was safe and whole.

“You know, not everything is salvageable.” Gwyn leaned against the bench. Her short tan jacket was a secondhand gem, her creamy fingerless mitts homemade by Izzy. A crown of pale blond hair bounced in soft curls as she shook her head. “Some things just aren’t meant to be. You can’t force a friendship when no common ground exists. And I really don’t think you and that toaster are going to find any.”

“I don’t understand this. I think it’s fixed and the next moment, it’s not. I cast a fix-it on the control and it disappears like it never was.” She looked up and eyed the waiting appliances that filled the counter against the wall and spilled along the floor. The shelves in the front room were full and Gwyn had moved the overflow in here. Working on this toaster was a waste of time, not because Edmund suspected Justin Wasten of ripping the bond, but because she had too many other things to do to spend time failing at this.

She jumped back as two sheets of black toast popped two feet into the air and landed on the workbench, crumbling to pieces at the impact.

Gwyn leaped just as high. “Blasted hells, Ror. For the sake of our hearts, you need to let this one go. Junk the thing. Everyone knows a toaster has a max of a thousand loaves and then it’s…”

“Don’t say it.”

“Toast.”

The toaster rumbled. Aurora snatched the cord and hung on. Leashed, its projectile shot at her in revenge. She ducked in time. Gwyn did not. A blackened sheet of bread wobbled on her head and then tumbled to the floor.

“I shouldn’t be surprised that your benevolence extends to toasters.” She brushed crisp crumbs from her hair. “You’re not giving up on it, are you? I know you so well.” The words spilled out on a long exhale. “Look at all this.” She eyed the overflowing shelves. Needy appliances, toys, and tools spread onto the floor and the workbenches that lined the walls. “I should have put an ad in the paper a long time ago.
Enchantress will repair your broken junk.
This’ll keep you out of my hair for a long time.” She walked away, soft blond curls bobbing in time with her sashay.

Aurora rolled her eyes at her best friend’s mocking scorn.

“Hey, I have something for you.” Aurora reached into her pocket and pulled out four charms. She tossed them to Gwyn one at a time.

“Oh, Ror! Four of them! These must have cost you a pretty penny.”

They had, though they weren’t anywhere near as expensive as Edmund’s
Clothe
charms. The fireworks charms were meager payment in return for all Gwyn did, helping both in the shop and the forest whenever needed.

“I can’t wait to set them off! Thank you! I want to put on a show that will wow the Republic.”

Aurora gave her half a smile as she left. Gwyn would never wow the Republic. Maybe someday she could venture out of the junkyard and find some more friends. For now, her life was on long-term hold. The Nobles had scoured the Republic for her after she’d ran away from a fiancé her family had forced on her. But she escaped.

At the time, Aurora had three more months left on her vow to Noble. She’d followed the search through the newspaper articles, praying her friend stayed one step ahead until the family gave up. When Aurora returned to Rallis Territory, Gwyn tracked her down. Aurora had offered her the forest as a place to live and hide. That had been when Aurora’s father was still alive, before the park bombing, before Lily. What would she have done without Gwyn? Her friend stepped in every time she needed help, like today with the overflowing shelves of needy appliances, toys, spellbooks, tools....

Toasters.

Resting her chin on her hands, she pushed her vibes toward it. The never-ending supply spell vibrated in the two slots, whole and healthy. That wasn’t the problem. Nor was the heat spell. Despite its age, the energy of both of those casts still vibrated like they were new. Whoever created this thing had been quite a powerful mage.

The problem was the control spell, but it refused to be remedied. Everything she did to it disappeared.

She pushed it away and paced three steps, choosing a remote controlled car from the table. Reaching with her vibes, she gathered both the car and the remote’s energy. She pulled until they resonated on the same wavelength. Done. Fixed. Why couldn’t everything be like this?

She looked at the tag. “Call Mrs. Kateson, would you, Gwyn? Her daughter’s car is ready.” She tossed the words over her shoulder and then didn’t look up from her work until hours later. As she was hunched over the final appliance from the first table, tiny footsteps caught her ear.

“Hi.” Lily trudged in, dragging Bear by the ear. Aurora had spelled that ear to stay on with the strongest enchantment possible.

Aurora opened her mage sense, searching for Lily’s grandmother or Tera who was the go-to babysitter. Edmund would be so proud, but her search uncovered nothing. “Did you escape again?”

A spark lit in the little girl’s eyes, but no smile crossed her face.

“Come on, sweetie. I’ll walk you home.” She grabbed her coat, blinking her tired, dry eyes.

Gwyn appeared in the doorway. “Walk yourself home afterwards. The bags under your eyes are so heavy they might sag to the ground any minute.” She ruffled Lily’s dark curls, then looked back at Aurora. “Haines said the yard has a new Second. His name’s Thursday or something weird. If you notice someone new around, could be him.”

“Thanks for the heads up.” Aurora strode out the door, pulling her hat over her head. With Lily’s hand in hers, they conquered the field that led to the forest. She dropped the girl off with her grandmother and headed out of the forest with Merida’s lecture ringing in her ears. The consequences of the girl’s possible capture would be deadly, but Aurora could never bring herself to get angry with the little imp.

She marched home beneath winter’s persistent gray that had surely tinged her soul the same color. Over a month and a half had passed without the goddess’s light to commune beneath.

When she finally made it to her water tower, her nose was frozen. She reached for the spell that hung over the vines and tower. Before she made contact, her weak illusion parted. Someone was in her house, opening the spell from the inside. Before she could jump back, Edmund appeared in the doorway.

“Welcome home, honey.”

* * * *

Aurora studied him while she waited out the pounding of her heart. His dark wavy hair crowned his head like a top hat, as if his fingers had pulled it high again and again until it stayed. His temple was marred with two solid black lines. From the neck up, he looked like an electrocuted junkyard gang member. On down, his suit and tie belonged to the heir. Someone had taken him apart and put him back with a few wrong pieces.

And given him a new name.

“Mr. Thursday, I assume?”

“No. Mr. Monday. You can call me Mundie.” His rough voice scratched out the carefree words as he stepped back to allow her to walk in.

She didn’t. “What was Bull thinking to let you into the gang? For that matter, why would you want in? And what are you doing here?” Cold air swirled around her and into her home, forcing her heating spell to pull more vibes from her and for once, she let it. Forget the pollution. She had big problems.

“That’s a lot of questions, princess. I notice you didn’t include
how
I got in. Because I couldn’t have if you’d locked your door.”

“You’re right. I didn’t ask that question.”

“I was looking for a job, and Bull offered one. As for why I’m here, I need a place to crash. Why do you smell like burnt toast?”

She shook her head, her hair dancing around her shoulders. “You’re the heir to the kingdom. You must have a dozen homes you can crash in.”

“I need a friendly place. Come on up. I’ll make you a cup of tea. You look frozen.”

“This is my house. I make the tea.”

“I moved in.”

Insanity had met her at the door. “I’m sorry. I think I’m losing my mind. I thought I heard you say you’ve moved in. Maybe I inherited a strand of my father’s metallist power and I’m going crazy, too.”

He turned and mounted the stairs. “Nope. Not possible.” He spoke over his shoulder. “Not for an enchantress. Enchantresses have no strands of power that match their genealogical tree. They’re pure enchantress. Like their power truly comes from the goddess. No blood lines involved.”

She stuck her head through the vines to keep him in view as he rose. “And you know this how?”

“Research. After you disappeared on me eight months ago.” At the top, he turned to face her. “Come on in.”

The vines rustled as if in agreement. She was cold anyway, so she stepped in and let the doorway close behind her. “By the way, your mother thinks you’re the one ripping the bond.”

He leaned his hands against the railing that blocked the open staircase from the living area and looked down at her. “Not anymore. I don’t think. Who was the little girl you left in the forest?”

Her heart lost its rhythm and found a new one, sprinting inside her ribs as the river of fear she’d kept dammed for months flooded forth. “Out.” Her finger shook as she pointed through the vines. “Out, out, out.”

His simple words had set her world to spinning, threatening to funnel away everything she knew and loved.

“Bull ordered me to guard no farther than the last tower, yet the gang’s vow included protecting the good in the forest. That’s not part of the original vow. I’m guessing she’s the good in the forest. Is she Bull’s daughter?”

“You don’t belong here, Edmund.”

Lifting a hand to his face, he fingered the lines at his temple with a bare touch. “I do belong here.” His voice drooped with an instant sorrow that hurt her heart. “Even if no one trusts me. Even if you don’t trust me.”

She climbed the wide stairs, one slow step at a time, as if approaching a dragon that had invaded her cave. She stayed on the far edge, away from him. At the top, she rounded the other railing and faced him, the chasm of the stairs separating them.

He lowered his arms to the railing, bending forward to lean on them, as if the shorter stature made him less of a threat. “She’s cute…that little girl. And you looked beautiful holding her hand. But you’re always beautiful.”

Glitter burst around her. “Please leave her alone. She’s where she needs to be. She’s safe in there. She’s been through horrible things.” She shook her head, hearing Lily’s screams all over again.