Enchanter's Echo (30 page)

She shook her head. Her lips had lost their berry red.

“Why is Tera hiding back here?”

“No reason. She’s fine.”

Crickets. But he’d get to the bottom of that later.

He quickened his pace, stomping through woods with her in his arms. He used his vibes to help hold her. “You’re going to be fine, princess.” He wasn’t sure who the reassurances were for. She looked so pale he could hardly believe her blood was still flowing. “You’re going to feel like vibe shite for a few days, but you’ll get better. Just hang on. I’ll get you home.”

Her lashes lay against her white skin. Her breath still pushed against his chest or he might have thought…. Nope. Wasn’t going there. People didn’t die from sense sickness anymore. In the Wild West, yes, but not in the Republic.

Despite that knowledge, worry nagged, a persistent drilling in his mind. Vin used to get sense sick all the time before Bronte came into his life. But if his brother had ever been this sick, Edmund had never seen it. Maybe Vin would know how to help her. Maybe Bronte’s syphon power, even if she wasn’t tuned to Aurora’s frequency, could drain the energy from around her, giving Aurora’s power space to regenerate. He’d call as soon as he got Aurora tucked in.

Though he strode through forest as fast as he could, the water tower took its time in appearing. Her breath puffed smaller and smaller clouds in the cold air. Her mage vibes, always sparkly and alive, had disappeared from the surface of her skin, retreating deep within her, searching for a place to heal.

Finally, he caught sight of one leg of the tower. The trees thinned and then he broke free of the woods to race over the crisply frozen field. At the foot of the water tower, he pushed her vines open with his vibes. He strode up the steps, careful to jostle her as little as possible, and into her bedroom. Laying her on the bed, he pulled off her boots and her hat, helped her out of her jacket, and covered her with her quilt.

He knelt at her side, unable to resist reaching beneath the covers to hold her cold hand. Keeping his gaze on her, he extended a stream of vibes to the other side of the city, a long reach, but he’d spanned farther distances.

“Vin, what do I do?” His twin was always on the other side of that connection for him, though words didn’t go down it easily. Vincent naturally deflected everything that came at him. This time, Edmund shouted the words with his power to ensure they made it. For a blink of a glimpse, he saw through his brother’s eyes. Bronte’s neck, smooth pale skin, the rounded curves of the top of her breasts, long dark hair. His brother always had his hands on his mate.

Vincent lifted his head and Edmund caught Bronte’s startled expression before his brother closed his eyes. Edmund kept his open, letting the view travel down the connection.

“Sense sick,” Edmund shouted mentally.

Vincent flinched. “Stop yelling. How does an enchantress get sense sick?”

“Just tell me how to help her!”

“What’s going on?” Bronte’s voice traveled down the connection somehow. That had never happened before.

Edmund felt Vincent lean forward into Bronte, his mouth against her hair.

“If it were another deflector,” Vin said, “I’d say keep her isolated and away from spells. No potions. No other mages, no power of any kind.”

Edmund looked around. This whole fucking tower was one spell after the other.

“But maybe enchantresses are different. They thrive on life. I’ll send the healer.”

“No. One on the way.” He let Vincent see the woman, not exactly intentional.

His brother flinched. “Blasted hells, Mun. Her scars. That woman is consort-marked.”

Edmund wanted to send a fast, hard fist down the connection. Shit like this was the exact reason Aurora hid so much from him.

“Screw that,” his asshole brother continued, blind to Edmund’s anger. “I’ll send the Rallis healer.”

Edmund yanked at the connection with his vibes, like grabbing Vin by the neck. “She’s Aurora’s friend, you ass. Since when are you prejudice against Double-Wide victims? Forget it. I don’t need your help. I’ll take care of her alone.” He severed the communication with a burn of angry power, knowing that Vincent would feel the heat on the other end of their link. He also knew his brother wouldn’t dare try to reconnect in case the spell would make Aurora worse.

Edmund looked up at the high ceiling above, praying with no words. Surely the goddess didn’t need them. Surely she felt his mass of emotions. Surely she was looking out for her daughter.

He looked down to find Aurora’s eyes open. He squeezed her hand at the sight of their faded green.

“Leave,” she whispered.

“No.”

“I have to protect them. Shouldn’t have…I knew…” Half her words were missing, too weak for sound. A tear trickled down the side of her temple. “I can’t afford you.” She closed her eyes.

“We can talk about this when you’re better.”

When she’d healed, she’d understand that he’d never hurt her friends, that he’d no choice but to go into the forest. She had to. He laid his head on her bed in another wordless prayer.

A bell rang through the steel of the tower. The healer had arrived. He stood and jogged down the stairs to let her in. As he opened the vines, a blast of vibes shoved against his back, forcing him outside. He crashed into the older woman but caught her with one arm before she fell to the ground.

The healer found her balance and jingled the string that held the silly bell. “Aurora? Open this enchantment right now!” She pushed at the vines, but not a single strand moved. “It’s an impenetrable spell. I didn’t know she could do that.”

“Did she just spell me out?”

The healer turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “Never been kicked out by a lover, Mr. Monday? The outrage on your face would almost be comical if the circumstances were healthier.”

“How in the blasted hells did she do that? She was sick.”

“Still is. I’d guess she just used up every reserve vibe she had. Stupid girl. Dangerous.” She shook the bell again. “You open up right now!” She looked to the sky for support. “What am I saying? She probably doesn’t have the power to open it anymore. We need someone who can destroy her spell. Who can destroy an enchantress’s spell?”

He could. But he couldn’t stop his destruction without his enchantress.

And so they sent for a locksmith mage, one after the other throughout the night. Not one could cast a key to fit her impenetrable spell.

Indestructible. Impassible. Impossible.

Edmund kept vigil through the night while the healer went home to the forest. The next morning, when she returned, Edmund stared at her, his heart so heavy he might have fallen to the ground.

She withstood his gaze, lips hard, eyes flat, as if she knew what he would ask.

“If I leave, she might open the door. Vow that you’ll call me when you get in.”

A simple shake of her head was the only answer.

“Consider calling me. Why not?” he snapped when she kept shaking her head.

“Aurora dwells among the misfits and the discards, the injured, and the unwanted. She takes care of them as her own people. She believes in them. Offers them hope, life. You can’t.”

“I can. I’m here, aren’t I? I wear this.” He thrust a finger at his temple. “What more can I do?”

“Tell me the truth, Edmund Rallis. Do you believe the dark are lesser than the light? That the whole and vibrant are the only ones worthy of life?”

“Blasted hells. I don’t think you’re any less because of your scars. And my cousin is a dark mage. I love her.” He grasped for more evidence but came up empty. “What more do you want to hear?”

The healer’s dark brown eyes did not soften as she studied him in silence. He was failing.

“Do you think your cousin deserves a place among the light?”

“Yes. Yes, I do. She’ll never have it, but she deserves it.” Even as he said it, he knew it was wrong to admit, but something about this woman pulled the truth from him. It had nothing to do with her scars, though the consort was feared for his ability to extract a person’s darkest truths and desires.

She gave him a sad smile. “Aurora protects us from the Republic’s prejudice. She helps us hide among the shadows, but she shines her light gently upon us, keeping us stocked with hope. We need her. Without her, I would…”

“You still have her! I carried her back to her tower. I could have taken her to Rallis Hall. But once she’s healed, she’s not trapped here. She never was.”

“Of course she is! Trapped here by the laws and rules that she doesn’t believe in. She’s not like you. She believes in the right for all to live freely…as themselves.”

“She hides you! That’s not freedom.”

“She finds a way for us to live. While people like you would deny us, turn away from us, leave us to die.”

“Us? How many are there of you? Are you talking about more than just you and Lily? You have a bunch of scarred people in the woods?”

“Leave, Lord Rallis. Leave. You’ll be the end of her.”

“The name’s Monday. And I’m not leaving.”

The snow started at midnight. With a frozen heart, he spent the night guarding the northwest quadrant of the yard, right where her tower was. At the end of his shift, he strode toward the barrel but met Bull shoveling snow. He held out his hand for the man’s shovel, needing to occupy himself with something. Bull squinted, his eyes switching between Edmund and the vine covered tower. He handed over the shovel and then rubbed Edmund’s head hard, shoving off his hat.

“I love watching long fights. You’ve got a determined opponent. Hope you’re up to it.” Bull marched away, only to return awhile later with a tall, wiry woman in tow. Her hair was clipped short and was pale with age. She didn’t smile, but her lips twitched with nerves.

“The Drainpipe doesn’t have a grocery store,” she blurted. “Pipers have to leave the neighborhood to get most of their food.”

It took Edmund a moment to realize what this was. This woman was speaking to the senator’s heir, an informal hearing.

“I applied for a permit to open a grocery, but I was denied because I’m a reptilis mage.” Though her voice wavered with nerves, her composure never faltered. “The permit clerk said snakes and frogs would contaminate the food. Do you know that only dark mages are required to state their true powers on applications for vending permits?”

“I didn’t. I’ll look into it.” That law would damn well be changed.

She nodded, satisfied at the little he’d offered when she ought to have demanded more. Bull took her name and address and walked her out.

Edmund looked back at Aurora’s tower, wondering what she would have thought about this. He could sense nothing beyond her illusionary walls. No movement. No life. But he was a mage of destruction. Life energy didn’t register to him. He took consolation in that he could sense no death.

Later that afternoon, Bull returned as Edmund made a third pass shoveling the trail to her tower. “P.U.R.E. rally’s been postponed because of the weather.” He brushed the falling snow from his bald head. “Thought you might want to know.” He nodded at the older teen to his side. “Meet Wyatt. Friend of Keene’s. Blood mage.”

Blood mages’ spells were notoriously powerful and therefore greatly feared. To cast, they had to bleed.

The teen had a shovel and a solemn expression that matched the woman who’d came earlier. The kid scooped three piles of snow before he spoke. “I cut my finger slicing an apple two months ago.”

Edmund shoveled beside him while Bull scanned the yard.

“No healer would help me. Because of my blood. It got infected.” He held up his hand, pausing his shoveling. Two fingers were missing. “This gross you out?”

“No.” Edmund’s grandfather had a similar disfigurement thanks to a battle at the Senate.

“I got kicked out of school because this was too disruptive for the other students.” He returned to shoveling. “Truth is, they don’t like my power. I had a scholarship to the university lined up. Not anymore. I was going to study art. But if I ever get to go to college, I’m going to be a lawyer.”

“You’ll get your chance. I’ll make sure of it.”

One after the other, day after day, the people came, many with shovels. They worked and talked, airing problems they’d never dare mention to the senator. These people would never make it behind the gates of the estate. But Edmund had come out from behind those gates. He hadn’t known they were waiting for him. He hadn’t known he was needed.

On the fourth day, the snow stopped, so he thought up another task to keep his mind occupied while he waited for her to wake up: improvements to the security of the junkyard. One of which ought to be unburying his car from the snow. It sat where he’d left it before he’d rushed into the forest and broken the fragile trust he’d earned. He stared at the lump it made next to the metallist’s shop.

I’ve missed this,
she’d said. She’d run her hands over the dash then, but all he could picture now was her hands on him. And that smile she’d given when he’d laid her on her bed to make love to her. That smile that lured him closer. He’d only gotten it once, maybe twice. He wanted a lifetime of them.

She was his. He wanted to roar it to the world, but it was a lie. The truth was he was hers.

He turned away to see his mother arrive. The surrounding gang members scuttled off at the sight of the long, black car.

Cowards.

“You look like hell, Edmund. This place is tremendously hard on your appearance.”

“She’s sick.” The words flew from his mouth as if he were a child again, seeking comfort from his mother. His heart pressed against his ribs as if it wanted to flee the body that kept it in such torture.

“I know.” Her voice softened. “I read about it in the papers. Pipers are excellent at keeping secrets considering the news only broke this morning. Why didn’t you tell me? How is she?”

“I don’t know. She’s spelled herself inside her tower.”

“What tower?” She looked around, her gaze drifting back and forth over the landscape of the junkyard. Finally, she stopped and stared at the old water tower, her eyebrows lifting. “Enchanted vines. How perfect. I’m going to talk to her.”