Mercy (30 page)

She hated the way their moments came and went, one second they were entwined, unable to think about anything but sex and the next, it was icy. He put his walls up and it was impossible for her to get through to him. “How did you remember?”

He turned in the chair and studied her, but she wasn’t willing to give up. She had to know how he could know what she was, but with all the searching she did, she couldn’t find a single thing that made sense.

“It’s called the walk-in theory.”

She never heard of it before. She tried to prompt him with her eyes and he let out a sigh. “It works in two ways. Most of the time, a Poltergeist, Spirit or Wraith will enter the body and force the host out.”

Maeva listened, trying to keep up with all the jargon. She knew what a Poltergeist and Spirit were, but Wraith still bothered her. The word itself sent chills up her spine. “What is the host?”

Michael blinked. “The person born in the body.”

Maeva nodded, adding to the mass of notes in her head. She drew imaginary connections between things she had found and things he was willing to tell her. Half the time she’d explain what she found and all he’d say was “no, that’s not how it works.” She found a lot of theories on the way things didn’t work.

“And the second way?”

“The host died, and the body is a shell, open for anything to take it over.”

Maeva smiled. “Like the hermit crab.”

Michael shrugged. “More or less.” He turned back to the desk.

She thought for a long time. “I’m still confused about how that …”

“Wraiths don’t die. They jump from body to body.”

Maeva felt a pain in the center of her chest, guilt welling into her. She couldn’t break down in front of him. She closed her eyes and shoved away the heavy feelings. “Are you trying to tell me you’re a Zombie?”

Michael laughed, and it was everything she needed. “Zombies don’t have souls, just decaying bodies.”

And it was too much. Maeva felt knots in her stomach, guilt in her throat, and she couldn’t help it. She felt sorry for Michael, having no release from what he was, having to move from shell to shell. She couldn’t fathom how many lives he’d had, all tangled together, memories piled on top of each other. And he was falling apart. Ultimately, his body was decaying. “But you …”

He flew off the chair and cupped her face so hard she let out a protested cry. He put his hands on either side of her face, pressing against her temples, forcing her to look into his desperate blue eyes.

“I’m alive,” he said, pressing his lips against her eyelid. Her eyes watered as his lips lingered, silencing the words in her throat. She pushed against his chest, needing to breath. He stumbled back, falling against the dresser.

“You could be dead any day now.”

Aches untangled from her heart and trailed down her arms and torso, spreading into her thighs. He looked wasted, defeated, the shell of a boy she used to think was strong and dangerous and caustic. When she first saw him, the look he gave her burned through her, scaring the daylights out of her. His look still had that effect on her only it left her bruised and broken, her insatiable need for him stronger than anything she’d ever felt.

A knock interrupted the tension between them. “Maeva, it’s ten,” Elwen said from the hallway.

“Give us a minute,” Michael said, moving from the dresser and sitting beside her. He took his hand in hers. “I promised I’d make it to grad.”

She nodded, feeling heavy sobs in her chest. Grabbing her backpack, she slung it over her shoulder and opened the door. She didn’t want to leave, but keeping Grace happy while keeping her relationship as discreet as possible required compromises like a ten o’clock curfew. Even though she was eighteen, her mother made the rules in the house, if she didn’t like them she could move out. Maeva had contemplated that but Elwen creeped her out and she couldn’t imagine living in the tiny flat and seeing all of Michael’s symptoms. His illness bothered her enough without being around him twenty-four seven. She slid on her flats and unlocked the dead bolts.

“Maeva?”

She found Michael standing behind her, a pleading expression on his face. She hugged him, feeling his arms wrap around her tight. “I’m sorry … for everything,” he whispered in her ear.

She frowned, and said the first thing that came to mind. “Me too.”

He released her, an odd expression on his face as she tucked her head to the floor and left, pounding downstairs to her Sundance.

***

Chapter 28
The Powers That Be

Krishani didn’t want to do this.

Elwen returned from Thunder Bay and confirmed everything Pux had said over the phone. He was a feorn, and worse, he threw up any processed food. It ruled out almost everything except fruits, vegetables, and fresh bread. Elwen said he’d have to go back in a week and bring him more. Krishani gripped the steering wheel harder, his eyes watering. He was unraveling. He thought he could ignore it, reveling in all her simplicity, but Cossisea and Klavotesi knew where she was, and they weren’t going to stay away. Darkesh would come for her, and Krishani wasn’t strong enough to fight the Valtanyana.

He passed walls of rock on either side of the road, the bridge to Sioux Narrows coming into view. He hit the brake, hating the way Elwen’s car handled. It took forever to stop and he had to put more pressure on the pedal, making the car shudder abruptly in the middle of the road. He wrenched the steering wheel, pulling into the lot at Big John’s and cranked the emergency brake, his pulse singing in his ears, begging him to drive away. He lied and said he was at the hospital today, radiation therapy part two, but he couldn’t do it anymore—biopsies, chemo, radiation. He had bruises everywhere and the tumors kept growing, appearing in his lungs, stomach, and liver. He heard Dr. Grant talking to one of the nurses about him during the radiation. She said she didn’t know how he was still alive. Most patients didn’t make it to this stage, and if they did they were permanently hospitalized. They didn’t drive, or go to school or go on canoe trips with their girlfriends. They wasted away in hospital beds, everyday a struggle to get one more breath and one more meal past their throats.

Krishani threw up everything he ate but he forced it down, hoping it would somehow trick the body into thinking it wasn’t dying. He opened the front doors and slipped past the hostess into the lounge. He moved past the bartenders and slammed into the kitchen, looking for Tor. He passed the line cooks and headed towards the prep area, finding Tor deep in concentration. Knives were at work on three different cutting boards, but Tor wasn’t touching them. It was something out of Fantasia. He gasped and Tor opened his eyes, crackling gold irises catching Krishani off guard. He stepped back as knives fell on the counters, and everything stopped.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Tor said, his eyes filling with a fake hazel tinge.

“Yeah?” Krishani spat. “You know it’s turning to shit because of what you did don’t you?” He was so angry and in so much pain he couldn’t think.

Tor stroked his jaw, tilting his head to the ceiling. He looked relaxed, indifferent. “I thought I did you a favor.”

“After nine thousand years?” He couldn’t believe Tor’s insanity. Keeping her imprisoned for so long and this was a favor?

Tor locked eyes on him. “You’re lucky that body lasted so long.”

Krishani put a hand on the metal counter to brace himself, feeling ready to collapse. He winced, trying to hold on. So it was Tor that gave him almost ten years away from Darkesh, an almost simple human life. Tor made this entire chance with Kaliel possible but he didn’t, or couldn’t make it last. He gritted his teeth. “Cossisea and Kla found Pux. They’re coming back.”

Tor crossed his arms and took a step towards him. “I’m counting on it.”

Krishani fought against his buckling knees. “Are you
trying
to cause an apocalypse?”

Tor snapped his fingers and shiny gray scales ran up the length of his arms, his fingernails becoming thick black claws. His face became a leathery mask of scales, tiny horns protruding from his chin and cheeks. He spread his black lips in a smile, the light catching a glint of his silver tongue.

Krishani quaked. He’d never seen the High King’s true form. Morgana said they trapped him in a human body, but this wasn’t anything human. He pulled himself up and bent over the metal counter, trying to regain his strength as Tor leaned in, his draconian face near, gold-lightning eyes crackling every couple of seconds.

“You need to understand something about revolutions, boy. You’re not dealing with some pansy ass vampires. The Powers That Be are the oldest beings Across the Stars. They could turn you to dust by looking at you. The Lands could be wiped out in mere seconds by their hands. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

Krishani tried to find his voice. “But she’s just a girl.” He couldn’t let Tor turn her into something unrecognizable. It went against everything she was, everything she meant to him.

Tor towered over him and Krishani felt defeated. Tor was one of them; he could kill Krishani with a look. “She was created as a weapon, a counterbalance to the kind of power that could force the stars to collapse.”

“Collapse?”

Tor slammed his hands together and the illusion dissolved, his skin becoming tan, his face reverting to its human qualities, even the brown hair pulled back into a long ponytail. “Everything would cease to exist, even them.”

Krishani pulled himself to his feet and swayed a bit on his heels. “I need your help.”

Tor cracked his knuckles and went back to work, taking up one of the knives and doing things the old-fashioned way. “I’ve already helped you.”

“Stop them. Do something other than watching and waiting,” Krishani snapped.

Tor smiled. “I’m cooking.”

Krishani balled his hands into fists. “Stop pretending you’re normal! You’re one of them.”

Tor shot him a withering look. “Yes, and that’s why I know how to deal with them. Enjoy the time you have left. You won’t live long enough to see her supernova.”

Krishani gulped hard. “You’re cruel.”

Tor laughed. “You must be cruel to be kind.”

Krishani felt the heaviness in his chest lift, the pain in his extremities receding. He stared at Tor for a long moment but the High King had gone back to chopping peppers. Krishani turned on his heel. “Fuck you.”

He slammed out of the restaurant and practically jogged to the car, not feeling the same shortness of breath in his lungs. He pulled the cell phone out of his back pocket and dialed Pux as he neared his car and fumbled with the keys to get the door open.

Pux answered on the fourth ring. “Krishani?”

Krishani sat in the driver’s seat, his head on the steering wheel. “Tor’s going to make her supernova.”

He heard something clatter to the floor on the other end of the line. “Shit,” Pux said, righting whatever it was. “Is he insane?”

Krishani started the Corolla, wanting to feel heat rolling over him. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything.”

“Take her to Avristar.”

“Um …”

“I won’t be here when it happens. You have to promise me you’ll look after her.”

“But I can’t let her see me, she’ll flip out.”

Krishani took a deep breath, out of options, out of time, and out of ways to keep Kaliel safe. “Avristar is the only place that’s safe. It’s her home, she’ll remember it.”

Pux was silent for a long time. “Okay. If I ever figure out how to get there, I’ll take her. What are you going to do?”

Krishani revved the engine and depressed the brake pedal as he released the clutch. “I’ll try not to die.”

O O O

Tor parked the Tempo in front of the restored brownish red double garage door. He neared the repainted porch, the fixed stairs. He put a small dining set against the left side, three chairs around it. He glanced at the black cat on the porch and reached out, scratching behind her ears.

“Anything, Black Magic?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at the cat with big yellow eyes. The cat made eye contact with him and transferred the images from his routine checks for the day. No intruders, no sightings. He nodded and headed inside, Necromancer on the bottom rung of the grand staircase leading to the six rooms upstairs. She licked her paw and rubbed her face, her green eyes sharp.

“Anything, Necromancer?”

She hopped off the rung and went down the hall beside the stairs, stopping at the white door under the stairs, leading to the Sanctuary. She pawed at it and he opened it, taking the creaky wooden steps into the basement. A mirror covered the back wall from one end to the other. Tor built a couple of shallow steps in front of it, a platform for ritual work. On the top step, in front of the glass was a simple golden box. Necromancer rounded it and sat beside it, her tail curled around her. Tor smiled. She had all the grace of a royal Egyptian cat. He bent and picked up the box, recognizing it from his vault in the Great Hall. He lost access to it years ago when the Valtanyana breached the upper levels and captured Kemplan.

He closed his eyes, thankful Kemplan was able to get to the Flames before they did. He couldn’t risk them falling into the hands of Valtanyana. He knew what they were and where they came from, but he kept his secrets hidden and for the life of him wanted them to believe they were older than time itself.

He ran his hands over the golden puzzle box and flipped the catch, running his fingers along the empty velvet interior. He turned the box and released the side clasp, sliding out a thin piece of parchment. He moved to the altar against the far wall, the top covered with everyday items for ceremonial and ritual work. He put the box on the altar and unfurled the parchment carefully, staring at the images of the Ferryman and the Flame.

It had taken so long for her to be ready, for him to be at the breaking point, but everything was falling into place the way he planned. All he had to do was see it through. He rolled up the scroll and slid it into the compartment. He knelt beside Necromancer, and put the box back in front of the mirror.

“You know where to put this,” he said gently, pressing his fingers into the mirror. Necromancer pushed the box forward with her paw, until it slid through the rippling mirror. She followed it, her slim black body passing through the glass.

Tor stood. He went to the altar and took the premade satchel of herbs and climbed the stairs. He needed to strengthen the shield. A bit longer and everything would be poised to awaken the Amethyst Flame.

***