Soul Seekers03 - Mystic (2 page)

“And my memory is returning,” I add, noting the fleeting flicker of worry that crosses his face as his gaze returns to the painting.

“And exactly what do these memories reveal?” he asks, his voice as quiet and uncertain as I’ve ever heard.

I hesitate, needing a moment to decide what to say. Torn between the desire to pretend to know more than I do—if for no other reason than to gain some semblance of an upper hand—and admitting I know very little in the hope that he’ll finally explain how he came to find me dying in the Lowerworld with my own athame turned against me. The double-edged blade bisecting my heart as Cade Richter moved to stake claim on my soul.

“I know there was a struggle. I know that I lost. And I was hoping you could fill in the blanks.” I stare hard at his profile, willing him to turn to me, acknowledge me, but for the longest time, he favors the wall. “Fine,” I say. “Keep your secrets for now. It’s not like I won’t find out eventually. But, if nothing else, can you please just tell me whether or not Dace is okay? I’m thinking that if I’m here in the Upperworld with you, then everyone in the Middleworld probably assumes that I’m dead. Which means that the prophecy was averted. Which also means that Dace is alive—that I was able to save him.
Right?
”

Axel clamps his lips so tightly it takes all of my will to keep from grabbing hold of his shoulders and shaking him until he responds. Allowing an annoyingly long drag of time to loll before he says, “I’m not keeping secrets, Daire. It’s just I see no point in reliving the past when the present awaits.”

“It’s the past that got me here!” I cry, instantly regretting the hysterical ring to my words. I’m getting worked up. I need to rein it in. Need to rebuild my strength. These emotional outbursts never result in anything good. “How long have I been here?” I ask, casually broaching the question as though I’m only mildly curious. My attempts at keeping track have left me confused. Most of my time is spent sleeping, and the light seeping through the curtain-covered window never seems to change all that much, making it impossible to count the succession of days.

“Linear time does not exist here.” Axel shrugs. “But then you already knew that.” He brings a hand close to my chest, ready to move on to more pressing concerns. “May I?” His hand hovers uncertainly, awaiting permission to proceed, despite the fact that as my only caretaker this is hardly the first time he’s done this.

I nestle my cheek against the pile of downy pillows with soft silken cases he’s placed under my head. Embarrassed by the rush of blood that creeps up my neck and floods my cheeks as he loosens my robe until my wound is exposed.

“It’s healing nicely.” He skims a finger along the jagged, puckered line of angry red flesh he coaxed back together with his platinum needle and spool of golden thread. His touch reverberating straight through my core, all the way to the invisible network of scars hidden under the surface, where he worked his magick and reassembled my heart.

“How soon can I return?” I ask. It’s the same question I always ask.

And like always, Axel defers. Grabbing a small glass jar from the nightstand, he repeats his usual mantra of “Not yet,” as he removes the lid and places it on the glass-topped table beside me. “But soon … very soon…”

He dips a finger into the fragrant blue ointment, about to apply it to the wound, when I catch him at the wrist and push his hand away.

“I don’t want it to fade,” I say, rendered nearly breathless from the effort it takes to resist him. Fielding his skeptical look, I add, “Now that I remember, I can’t afford to forget what landed me here.”

He mutters under his breath. Some archaic language with slurred vowels and hard consonants I don’t understand. Then he abandons the jar, pulls my robe closed, and with a sigh of resignation, says, “If you’re entertaining thoughts of revenge, I’d advise you to quit. You’ll only lower yourself to Cade’s level, squelch your potential, and establish yourself as his equal. Is that what you want?”

“It’s not revenge that motivates me.” I clench my hands into fists, my actions betraying my words. “It’s love. Dace is my only concern.” At the mention of his name, my heart clenches in pain. Imagining the grief he must be feeling, not knowing the full truth of what really happened that night.

And while the exact events may continue to elude me as well, one thing is sure: I saved him.

I died so that Dace could live.

Except that I’m not really dead.

He just thinks that I am.

“Best not to think about that either.” Axel turns his back in dismissal. “You need to get well. That’s why you’re here.” He scoops an uncertain hand through his hair.

“Is that the
only
reason I’m here?” I prop myself higher onto my pillows, and stare hard at his back. It’s an uncomfortable subject, but I need to know once and for all.

Why did he save me?

And what does he expect in return?

“What are you really asking me, Daire?” He faces me with a gaze so open, so direct, I’m instantly silenced. No longer sure how to phrase what I most want to say.

Is he a crazy stalker who took advantage of a moment of weakness in order to abduct me?

Or is he truly a Good Samaritan, a Mystic, as he claims, with only my best interests at heart?

While he’s always treated me with kindness and respect, I can’t help but suspect that his motives aren’t entirely altruistic.

We fall into an uncomfortable, sagging silence. The kind that used to spur me to say something stupid, crack a dumb joke, but no more. I’m no longer that girl. The new Daire is patient.

She’s willing to wait.

She has no other choice.

But when Axel makes for the door, I instantly regret having pushed it too far. He can’t leave. Not yet. He’s not the only one with an agenda here.

I lift myself until I’m almost fully upright, making an exaggerated show of breathing heavily and gritting my teeth. And just as I’d hoped, an instant later he’s right back beside me.

Patience
.
You can do this
.
It’s like Paloma taught you: Think from the end.

“Don’t push it, Daire.” Axel’s fingers grab hold of my shoulders as he lowers me back toward my pillows. “Just because the fever broke doesn’t mean that you’re healed.”

I nod as though I wouldn’t dream of questioning his wisdom, the irrefutable truth of his words. “I guess I’m just feeling a little restless,” I say, aiming for chagrin and hoping I’m not overdoing it. “I’m not used to being bedridden and weak, and that makes me a pretty poor patient.” I make a guilty face. “It’s just that, if I’ve any hope of leaving this place, I’ll need to work on regaining my strength. The longer I lie here, the more my muscles will deteriorate. So, maybe I could try to walk for a bit. What do you think?”

I hold my breath and shoot him my most hopeful look, aiming to convince without coming off as rehearsed.

When he doesn’t reply fast enough for my liking, I struggle to sit up again. Grimacing and gritting until I’m propped flushed and breathless against the headboard, begging, “Please. I need to get up and move around—take a short walk. But I need your help. I can’t do it alone.” I force myself to swallow the lie, but the bitterness sticks to my tongue. “C’mon, Axel, didn’t you promise to heal me, rehabilitate me? Isn’t that what you said?”

His brow knits, his lips pull into a frown, and I know that I’ve won. That he sees what I want him to see—me, clammy, breathless, and pale—making demands that betray my abilities.

I suck in a lungful of air, curl my fingers around the side of the mattress, and attempt to swing my legs over the edge. The sight of it causing him to say, “Clearly nothing I say will change your mind.”

“Clearly,” I whisper, indulging a small, secret smile when he secures an arm around my waist and eases me to my feet until my body is wedged hard against his.

His touch providing a reassuring strength that leaves me uneasy, reminding me of the moment he saved me. The way his lips pressed hard against mine as he snatched me from the fingers of death—restoring my life with a kiss.

The question is why?

Why me?

And, more importantly, now that he’s saved me, why is he hiding me?

Not a single person has dropped by the whole time I’ve been here. And often, when he thinks I’m asleep, I watch through slitted lids as he peers through the curtains, fingers twitching nervously at the thought of being seen.

While there’s no denying the amount of care and devotion he’s paid me, his reluctance to answer my questions leads me to believe his motives aren’t nearly as pure as they seem. That they have less to do with his inner moral compass, and more to do with the simple fact that, for whatever reason, he couldn’t bear to lose me.

Like he has a personal stake in my being.

Like I mean far more to him than I rightfully should.

A suspicion that leaves me uneasy.

My heart belongs to Dace. And if what I suspect of Axel is true, then he’s turned my life into a debt I can never repay.

“Do you think you could manifest a cane?” I ask, and despite having seen him work his magick plenty of times, I still stare in unabashed wonder when a beautiful, carved-ivory cane instantly appears in my hand.

“I hope no elephants were injured in the making of this?” I grip the handle hard, testing its strength by shifting my full weight upon it.

“It came from the ether just as it will return to the ether as soon as you’re through with it.” He loosens his grip on my waist and allows me some space, while he hovers nearby, ready to catch me at the first hint of trouble. “So, now that you’re up, where do you go from here?” His eyes glint in a way I can’t read.

Is it amusement? Pride? Is it possible that he’s on to me—sees right through my charade?

“You gotta have a goal, Daire. You can’t hit a target you can’t see.”

“The door.” I tip my head toward the large wooden doors with elaborate carvings as though I just now thought of it. As though I haven’t spent every waking moment imagining my palms pressed hard against them, pushing toward freedom.

I slide a slow foot before me, careful to keep my weight evenly distributed. No use injuring myself further just to prove a point. Aware of Axel shadowing me, his moves perfectly mirroring mine. Until the next step when my gait falters, my legs quiver in protest, and he slips a steady arm around me and props me hard against his chest.

“You’ll get there, Daire. Not to worry,” he says, as I sigh in defeat, allowing my body to sag in surrender as he lowers me back to my sickbed and tucks the blankets around me. “It’s just going to take a little longer than you’d like, that’s all.”

I give an obedient nod and slide my lids shut. Appearing to be lulled back to sleep by his whispered promise of
soon, very soon …

Until the door closes behind him and I leap from my bed.

two

Dace

Dark.

The word sounds in my head. Drums in my ears. Jolting me out of the sweet anesthetized void, and back to the harsh glare of wakefulness again.

Like a leaky faucet, it pauses, gathers, and then drops once again.

Dark
.

It’s the first word I’ve heard for … how many days? It’s impossible to tell. With no trace of sun or moon, with only a dreary canopy of sticky gray sludge hanging overhead, time isn’t marked here in the way that I’m used to.

Still, I’m glad for the company. Glad I’m no longer left to fend for myself in this strange, foreign land.

I try to crack an eye open. See who has joined me. But a thick coating of crud has glued my lids shut, and it takes a bit of digging with bloodstained fingers to break it all up.

“Who’s there?” I call, my voice coarse and strange. A result of the festering wound on my neck. “Show yourself!” I roll to my left and survey my surroundings, only to find no one there. Then I roll to my right and confirm the same thing.

It’s just me.

Only me.

With nothing but this bleak and barren landscape for company.

Dark.

I heave a deep sigh and flop onto my back. Tempted to laugh at my foolishness, but the mirth just won’t come. It died along with all the other virtues I once held in high regard.

Things like faith, hope, charity, and love have no place here.

Though love was surprisingly stubborn. It put up a good fight.

Long after the others were lost, it’s love that held on.

Determined to stick well past the point when my heart became a cold, bitter stone.

Long past the point when my memories of Daire railed against me, turning into an enemy existing solely to taunt me. A crafty, cunning adversary with a surplus of patience, willing to wait for just the right moment—when exhaustion turns to despair—to strike hard and fast. Able to devastate with a few happy images that are welcome at first—quick takes of Daire laughing, Daire loving, before fast-forwarding straight to the moment when her eyes shone with fear once she saw how I’d changed. Accurately guessing the embarrassing truth of the reckless choice that I made. How I sacrificed my soul in an attempt to save her, by becoming like Cade.

Still, it was her face I clung to when death came to claim me.

It was her face that cushioned the fall.

But now that I’m no longer at home with the living—now that I’ve no place among the dead—it’s her face that haunts me.

Daire is gone.

Dead and gone.

In my attempt to save her, I failed her. And now, in the place where my soul once thrived, lives only regret.

Dark.

I bite hard on my tongue. Cover my ears with blood-caked hands. Still the word sounds again.

And that’s when I get it.

That’s when I realize that it doesn’t sound from outside of me—it’s a word conceived in my head.