Reflection Pond (11 page)

Being here was a whirlwind. She’d finally stopped expecting to wake up, though she still wished for it. Longing for the place that’d never really been a home festered in her gut. She hadn’t really wanted her foster home, but now that she couldn’t have it, she couldn’t help thinking about her foster siblings, her foster mother.

Even Nate, the boy she couldn’t love.

Silently, Callie pushed the blankets away and slid from the mattress. Sapphire continued to breathe slowly with sleep. The floor was cold beneath her bare feet. Callie slipped into a robe that hung by the door, belting it tight over her sleep clothes.

She had to get out of here.

The hinges on the door didn’t creak as she swung it open. Still, she hesitated, certain that Sapphire would catch her. It wasn’t until she was splashing up the washed out path that she allowed herself to breathe.

The air was cool and smelled of damp, green things. Rain pelted her shoulders and slid along the curve of her scalp to sneak beneath her clothes and make her shiver. Mud squelched between her toes.

Even with the rain,
Eirensae
was beautiful. It reminded Callie of the cities she’d seen in an ad for Mexico, a combination of beautiful architecture and quaint, comfy huts.

The giant rock that led to the caves seemed farther away than she remembered, but soon she slipped through the portal. She stood dripping in the entranceway, the rainwater creating a circle around her feet. Callie inhaled the scents of the flowers and vines spanning the walls.

“Gonna try to run for it?” Rowan’s voice came from behind her before she made it five steps into the passageway.

Callie froze. Her heart sank. “Can you blame me? I want to go home.”

“You
are
home,” he said. She heard his footsteps as he moved toward her. “Besides, it’s not safe for you to out alone. Especially on a night like this.” He caught her elbow.

Callie pulled away. “Why do you even care?” Tears burned behind her eyes. She turned to face him.

Rowan folded his arms. Raindrops collected on his eyelashes and ran in rivulets over his cheeks. He lifted a shoulder.

“Please,” she begged. “Help me go back. I don’t want this life…I just want to be—”

“Human?”

She nodded. She was a stranger in her own body. When she closed her eyes, she saw the dead prophetess, blood seeping from Elm’s ears, and Rowan, his skin melting away.

“Sorry. You know I can’t do that. Not even if I wanted to. You let Hazel do a binding spell.”

Callie opened her mouth to protest, but Rowan held up his hand.

“Don’t try to deny it. I healed the cut. I can see how each wound was created.”

She glanced down at her now-smooth palm. That was admission enough. “But—” It was fear, Callie realized. This new life was out of her hands. Her powers were too vast to control.

“I can’t help you leave.”

“I hate you!” she screamed.

The rush of anger was short-lived and intense. To Callie’s surprise, Rowan clutched his head and groaned. He doubled over, grasping fistfuls of hair. A guttural sound erupted from his throat, something terrifying enough that Callie hoped she never heard it again.

“Rowan?”

He lowered his hands, puzzled. Blood trickled from his nose and he wiped it away. “I think you tried to explode my brain.”

Callie’s eyes went to her fingers. She held them away from her body as though they might suddenly transform into malicious creatures of destruction.

Rowan’s expression remained confused. “I have an unbelievable headache.”

“I didn’t…are you okay?” She reached out, tentative, afraid to touch him. Her hand looked ordinary. Pale scars dotted the back from where she’d rollerbladed through a glass window.

“You can’t go anywhere,” he muttered. “Not with that demon hiding beneath your skin. Come on.” He waved a hand and turned back the way she’d come.

“I’ll be okay,” he said to Callie, who hadn’t moved. “Callie,” he called from the entranceway.

She snapped from the trance, keeping her palms pointed skyward as though trying to catch invisible raindrops. The look of horror remained plastered on her face as she came toward him.

The library was cold without a fire to warm it. Callie stood in the doorway, watching him. A puddle formed beneath her and she crossed her arms, shivering. He found an old blanket tucked on a shelf and tossed it over her shoulders. While she pulled it around herself, Rowan lit a few tallow candles and set them on the main table at the heart of the library.

Rowan sat and rested his head in his hands. He closed his eyes. “I knew you were powerful, but…” The implications hung between them. Rowan knew
exactly
what had happened. With energy that strong, she could take someone down with just her thoughts. Sapphire was right. Callie would be a powerful weapon.

“Does it still hurt?” She lowered herself into the chair across from Rowan, clouding him with the scent of rainwater and chamomile and smoke. “Maybe you should find Cypress. Get it healed.”

“No.”

“Why not?
I could’ve killed you—you could still die. We don’t know what I’m capable of.” Callie pressed the edge of her blanket to Rowan’s face, catching the blood that still dribbled from his nose. He heard the concern in her voice. It made him feel weak.

Rowan pushed her hands away. “I’m not leaving you alone. You’ll just try to escape again.”

“Then I’ll come with you. We can go back to Sapphire’s.”

“No,” he repeated.

“Rowan…”

He looked up. Something about her expression bothered him. She was afraid for him. And she could only feel that way if she cared for him.

Everything inside of him went still.

How long had it been since another person had willingly shown him compassion? It’s been longer still since he’d accepted it.

Rowan felt his hand open like a flower, palm up on the scarred table, as though his muscles were surprised at what he was about to do. “Give me your hand,” he said.

A thousand worst-case scenarios wound through his mind. He knew what it felt like to share this kind of energy, to be this close—and yet, he was doing it anyway. He’d never had a
damn the consequences
attitude, each move was usually calculated. Except this—except with
her.
He remembered how his heart had stopped when he’d seen her covered with blood. How he’d been terrified that he’d lost his chance.

Her fingers were freezing and pruned from standing in the rain too long, but the underlying power was pulsating and warm. “Close your eyes,” he said.

Her eyelids lowered, fanning a shadow across her cheeks. “What are you doing?”

“Healing myself.”

“But—”             

“Would you just shut up and let me do this? My head is
killing
me.”

Her mouth snapped shut. She frowned.

Rowan willed his body to relax. Callie’s touch made every nerve in his body pull tight. “Empty your mind,” he said, more to himself than her. There was something about Callie that made him ache all over. He’d felt it when she dangled beneath him outside the palace window. He’d felt it when he healed her. Both times.

She was special.

Rowan let his energy drain into Callie’s skin. Her body offered no resistance and their power swirled together like the strands of a double helix. Callie’s energy was the blue of the summer sky in August, and as viscous as honey. Rowan’s was darker,
much
darker, but just as thick.

The farther he went, the more aware he was of Callie.
First, her fingertips, warming from their contact, and then her arms. He slid across her chest, feeling her pulse pound against his as though they were in a race to finish first. He entered her mind, letting the disorienting feeling of seeing himself wash over him.

Her life played in fast forward, like flipping the pages of a picture book. There was water and hurt, suffocation.
Pain. Memories crashed into him—swirling and swelling until Rowan was nauseous. His throat closed. He couldn’t breathe. With a gasp, he threw up a wall to Callie’s memory. Their energy moved along it and into her other arm, finally reaching her fingertips. It poured back into Rowan.

He breathed in relief, shocked by the absolute horror inside of Callie’s mind. His
heart slammed against his ribs. His energy pulsed to the tune of panic. Rowan forced himself to relax and let himself heal.

From there, his mind went into autopilot, seeking out imperfection. He saw Callie’s anger attack his brain, creating weak spots in his vessels. If the attack had lasted one second longer, he’d likely be dead. As it was, Rowan was lucky he’d chosen to heal himself. Without it, he would’ve lived only hours.

He didn’t tell Callie any of this, just let his energy traverse her body and spill into his. His head went numb, then warm.

All too soon, it was over.

Rowan pulled away, their hands disconnecting like two magnets determined to hold on. He hid his in his lap. “Thanks,” he murmured, still reeling.
What
happened to her? He wanted to pull her into his arms but refused to believe he could heal her pain. Heartbreak like that was more than skin deep. It infected every cell like poison.

Callie watched him curiously.

Drops of water fell from his hair onto the table. He had to say something. “I can’t heal myself, only direct the energy through someone else. It’s inconvenient, but it works.” His heart slowed to a normal rhythm.

Callie shivered. Did she feel the chill in her bones as he did—the frigidness that came with the severed connection? Rowan tried not to get close to too many people—especially when it came to sharing power. It was too intimate, but with
Callie he found he didn’t mind as much. He trusted her in a way he didn’t fully understand.

“We should go back.”
He stood, unable to continue sharing the tiny, three-foot space without touching her.

Callie blinked and finally looked around. “Where are we?”

Rowan smiled, watching curiosity play across her face. He should’ve known she’d like this place. “The library.”

He picked up a candle and handed her another, gesturing for her to follow.

He led her through the stacks, watching her expression brighten as she took in the thick, leather bound tomes tucked between living branches.

“It’s better in the daylight,” he said. “Are you familiar with the art of bonsai?”

She shook her head, lips moving as she read the titles silently.

“The library was designed when the trees were saplings, hundreds and hundreds of years ago.” He stood, came closer to her, sliding his fingers over the places she’d touched. “These ridges are where the trees were shaped using wire.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said, drawing a volume off the shelf. The cover was worn tan leather, the gold lettering faded in places.

“Amhrán
an Chroí,”
Rowan read, slipping easily into Gaelic. “Song of the Heart.” He took the book from her and replaced it gently on the shelf, feeling warmth in his chest. Callie loved the library as much as he did. The fact made him happier than it should have. So what, she liked books—that didn’t mean they had anything in common.

She hesitated, inspected her fingernails. Finally, she mirrored his posture, leaning on the shelf opposite him and crossing her arms. “Who are my parents?”

Rowan couldn’t hide his shock. Usually it took new members of the city longer to put the pieces together. “I don’t know.” He lifted a shoulder, feeling regret bite at his gut. She was no different from any other faerie here—
no one
knew their parents, no matter how badly they wanted it. “We aren’t
allowed
to know.” Bitterness crept into his words. “The purpose of the city is to unite the children of the fae. We are to be as one.
Live mar aon ní amháin.”
He could tell by her expression that she didn’t know what the words meant, joining a legion of fae who’d forgotten their native language. Now they resorted to English mostly, just like the rest of the world.

Callie fingered the tie on her robe, twisting it around her index finger. “So you all live here together, but you never know who your parents are? How is that fair?” She looked past him to the shelves beyond, eyes far away in the candlelight. “My entire life I thought my parents were dead. And now I find out they’re alive—but I’ll never know they’re
mine?”

The pain in the last word fell over Rowan like a sodden blanket and he took a moment to gain his composure. Hadn’t he thought the exact same things?

“Long ago,” he said finally, “there was war between our people. The Elders formulated a plan based on the idea of binding us together. Everyone is family, and therefore we fight for each other as family, because potentially every one of us could be related.” He felt the edges of his mouth tighten. “We’re one big, happy family.”

Callie’s face dissolved into horror.
“But what about incest? I mean—if you don’t know…”