Soulbound: A Lone Star Witch Novel (32 page)

“No. It’s good. It’s really good. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Not for this.” He sounds venomous now, so angry that I can’t believe this is the same person who earlier touched me so gently. “Don’t ever thank me for this. Not when it’s my fault it’s happening to you.”

I start to placate him, to voice one or two of the meaningless platitudes that women keep on tap to make men feel better. But then what he said actually sinks in. “What do you mean? How can this be your fault?”

He sighs, shifting so he’s sitting up in bed. I do the same, waiting for an explanation that I expect to be able to poke holes straight through. At least until he does something so unexpected, I can only gape. He rolls up
his sleeve and shows me the inside of his forearm, where a perfect circlet of Isis is tattooed on his skin. It’s identical in size and color to the one on my collarbone and I stare at it in shock for long seconds.

Then I open my hand, stare at the silver Seba that has rested there since Declan and I met on my nineteenth birthday.

He nods before taking my hand and stroking his thumb lightly over my palm. The Seba starts to glow, much like the sparks that created it on that long ago night.

I can’t help myself. I do the same to him, running my fingers over Declan’s forearm and watching in shock as his circlet of Isis lights up as well.

“How? What? I don’t—” I know I’m babbling, but I can’t seem to stop. None of this makes any sense.

“I’m not sure how to explain it to you,” he says. “Except to say that our souls are connected.”

I wait for more of an explanation, but nothing else is forthcoming. Finally, I ask, incredulous, “That’s it? The best explanation you’ve got is a cheesy pickup line?”

“It’s not a pickup line,” he tells me with the first grin I’ve seen from him all night. For a second I forget what we’re talking about—I’m that dazzled by his smile. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen it before, not like this, and it lights up his face. Makes him look a million times more approachable than usual.

“Well, it sure as hell isn’t an explanation of magic. ‘Our souls are connected?’ How lame is that?”

“It might be lame, but it’s also true. Your magic—”

“I have no magic.”

“Your magic,” he continues like I haven’t even spoken, “is tied to mine. And vice versa.”

“Well, then, you definitely got the better end of that deal. Because I’m latent.”

“Not anymore. In case you haven’t noticed, your
power has woken up with a vengeance.” He runs a frustrated hand over his face. “And the longer we’re in contact, the more magic you’re going to get.”

“What about you?”

“It’s the same with me.”

“But you already have a ton of power.”

“It’s only a drop in the bucket to what I used to have.”

I think back to those long ago whispers. I’d chalked them down to sour grapes, but had they been right all along? Had Declan really lost most of the magic he once wielded?

“When? When did you lose it?”

“The night you were born. The same night you lost yours.”

“I never had mine.”

“Are you sure about that?”

I think back to the stories I’ve heard of that night—of the lightning and Isis and all the signs that pointed toward my having a copious amount of magic. It’s enough to have me thinking that maybe—just maybe—he knows what he’s talking about.

“How do you know all this?” I finally ask him. “I’ve never even heard of anything like this and you say it so calmly.”

“I’ve had twenty-seven years to get used to it. It took me a while to figure out exactly what had occurred, but I knew something was different.”

“‘Something was different’ is a long way from thinking our souls are connected. I mean, how do you know?”

He laughs, but it’s a rusty sound. “I felt it.”

“Yeah, but I don’t feel anything. Maybe you have the wrong person.”

“How do you know you don’t feel it? You’ve lived with this every day of your life—you don’t know any differently. I did. I spent over two hundred and fifty years without you.”

His matter-of-fact assessment sends me reeling. Sends me searching inside myself for some kind of neon sign that tells me Declan is right. But there’s nothing there, just this feeling of unease deep inside of me.

Declan must see it because he smooths a hand over my hair. “Don’t freak out on me.”

“How can I not freak out? How come
you’re
not freaking out?”

“I’ve known about you, in the abstract, since the moment it happened. I just didn’t know it was you, not for a long time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when you figured it out?”

“You were young, too young to deal with this.”

“I was nineteen.”

He shakes his head. “You were twelve. I waited seven years before I came back for you.”

The information sends me reeling all over again. “You knew when I was twelve? And you didn’t say anything?”

“What was I supposed to say? What was I supposed to do? Just walk up to your parents and drop the news on them? Your father would have done his best to kill me.”

“He wouldn’t have succeeded.”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “No, but I could have hurt him, even killed him. I didn’t want to do that.”

“So you went away until my Kas Djedet. When you came there that night, you wanted…what?”

For the first time he looks away from me, tension making every one of his muscles taut. “I don’t know what I wanted.”

He’s lying, but I don’t push it. Not now. Instead, I think back to that night, to the way he’d seemed as wary of me as I was of him. I’d thought it was strange considering he held all the magic, but now I understand. Or at least think I do. If our souls are connected, then I have as much power over him as he does over me. I’m not
sure how I feel about that, about any of this. I trust Declan more today than I ever have before, but that doesn’t mean I want to give him access to my
soul
.

“So, what happens now?” I finally demand. “Say you’re right and our souls are actually connected in some weird Heka thing? Now that we’re in contact with one another? What happens?”

“That’s the million-dollar question. I would guess that we both continue to get more powerful, but I figure there’s a loophole. Beyond the obvious, I mean.”

“What’s the obvious?” I demand. “Maybe I’m an idiot, but from where I’m sitting nothing about this conversation is obvious.”

Declan stares at me with deliberate calculation, like he’s trying to decide what and how much he wants to say. It annoys me enough that I snap, “Spit it out, Chumomisto.”

“Okay. To put it frankly, your magic sucks.”

“I already told you that. I’m latent. You’re the one who keeps insisting—”

“No, not that way. What I’m saying is, the powers that you do have—they’re pretty terrible. Finding dead bodies, linking with sociopaths, feeling people die…I wouldn’t wish that on my enemy, let alone—” He breaks off abruptly.

Why is it suddenly so hard for me to breathe? “Let alone?”

“Let alone you, Xandra,” he finally says, reaching up to brush a lock of hair out of my eye. “I hate that you’re having to go through all of this. I hate that it’s my fault.”

I think about what he’s saying for a few seconds, and then about what I’d already realized—that he’s been around every time I’ve found a body.

So it really wasn’t the belladonna after all. Salima and my mother are going to be so disappointed.

Something he said tickles at my brain, a thought not
quite formed that hovers around the periphery of my consciousness. I try to focus on it, but it flits away, leaving me confused and almost hyperaware of Declan.

“It’s not actually your fault, right? I mean, if we weren’t tied together like this then I’d have these powers all the time. Not just when you’re close to me.”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure about that.”

“Why not? If my powers awaken only when I’m with you—”

“Again I’m not sure that’s the case. You were latent from birth because our powers had never come into contact with one another before your nineteenth birthday. But now that they have, who knows if you’ll continue to be latent if I’m not around? Will you be as powerful away from me as you are near me? No, of course not. But will you continue being latent?” He shakes his head. “I doubt it.”

“You’re confusing me.” It’s my turn to pace the room a little.

“Welcome to my life.”

“So, do me a favor and spell things out for me. I’m stuck with these powers now? Forever? Whether you’re around or not?” Another thing I don’t know how to feel about. Too much has happened tonight and I’ve dealt with too many emotions. I’m not sure I have any left to deal with this, too.

“I think so.”

“You
think
so?”

“This isn’t an exact science, Xandra. It’s not like I look into my crystal ball and the answers just magically appear. I’m flying blind here, just like you.”

“No,” I tell him. “Not just like me. You’ve known about this for years.” I pause, consider. “You have a crystal ball?”

He rolls his eyes. “Seriously?”

The question that’s been haunting me since he began
talking slips out. “Why didn’t you stay? You left after one night.”

He looks uncomfortable, miserable even, and for some reason his obvious guilt has another piece of the puzzle sliding into place. “That’s why you left. Eight years ago. Because my magic kicked in, right?”

He pushes to his feet, shoves an agitated hand through his hair. “You didn’t see yourself. You were heartbroken, completely devastated—and in so much pain. How could I stay knowing it would only get worse for you?”

“So you didn’t even bother to ask me? To talk to me about it? You just picked up and left?”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“By keeping me ignorant?” I know I sound skeptical, but I can’t help it. While I’ve finally made peace with a life without magic, it wasn’t an easy road to get here. It took years, years of my life I could have spent learning my magic so I wouldn’t be in this situation now—a sitting duck for a sadist with vengeance on his mind. “By leaving me latent?”

“Sometimes ignorance really is bliss.”

“And sometimes it’s hell. Either way, it wasn’t your decision to make. But you made it. Just like you made the decision to finally come back and find me, right? Your being in Austin now is no coincidence.” I pause, see the truth of my words on his face. “Did you know about the killer? Did you know he was going to do this?”

“If I had that kind of inside line, don’t you think I would have stopped him before he’d killed one woman, let alone three? Before he tortured them—and you?”

I don’t know what I think. This whole conversation is so confusing, especially when you consider I’ve gotten only about five hours of sleep in the last seventy-two. But still, I’m not ready to let this go. Not when Declan is being candid with me—or at least as candid as he’s capable of being. I’m not stupid enough to think he’s
telling me everything. There’s too much that just doesn’t fit.

“So, you came back and it wasn’t for him. Something must have brought you here—must have made you decide you no longer want to protect me.”

For the first time since I met him, he looks torn. Not just like he doesn’t know what to say, but like he doesn’t know what to
do
. It’s a strange look on him—and a strange feeling for him, I’d bet. Declan is the man with the plan, the one who always knows what’s going on.

“Of course I still want to protect you,” he finally says, sounding anguished. “I may not be doing a very good job of it, but I’m trying.”

“So what are you doing here? Why did you come back?”

“Because I need my magic!”

It’s a real kick in the ass to realize I was holding out hope that he would say he needed me. Which is ridiculous, of course. We barely know each other, no matter how it feels to the contrary.

“I need the power I once had,” he continues, “and I can’t get it any other way than being in contact with you.”

“And if you didn’t need the power?”

He looks away, doesn’t answer, though his jaw moves convulsively.

“You never would have come back,” I say with a calm I am far from feeling. “I would have been latent my whole life.”

“Do you think I enjoy seeing you like this?” He gestures to me. “Bruised, emotionally battered, in danger? Do you think I like being the cause of it? Why wouldn’t I try to keep you from this if I could?”

“Because it’s not your decision to make! It’s my magic, my life, that you’ve been playing games with for the last fifteen years.”

“This isn’t a game!”

“You sure about that? Because it’s beginning to feel a whole hell of a lot like one to me. One where you hold all the cards.” That’s when it hits me, the knowledge that’s been there all along just waiting for me to put the final puzzle piece together.

I don’t want to believe it, though, so I cast around for another explanation. Any other explanation. None comes to me, and I finally ask, “How could you have left Ipswitch without explaining any of this to me?”

“It wasn’t my job to explain it to you.”

“Bullshit. Why were you at my Kas Djedet, if not to enlighten me?”

He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t say anything at all. And that’s how I know I’m right.

“You were going to kill me.” Even as I say the words, I’m desperate not to believe them. Desperate not to understand that the man I’ve spent the last eight years of my life pining over, no matter what lies I told myself, could be so unworthy. “You came to my nineteenth birthday party with the intention of killing me.”

He looks tormented, but I can’t work up any sympathy for him. “I couldn’t do it. The second I saw you up on that stage, trying to create fire, I knew I’d never be able to harm you.”

“But how did you even think you’d get away with it? I’m a princess of Ipswitch, for the goddess’s sake! My parents, and the Council, would have hunted you to the ends of the earth.”

He doesn’t answer me for the longest time. And when he does, it’s reluctantly. With no hint of arrogance at all, only rock-solid truth. “They wouldn’t have been able to touch me, Xandra. Not with my magic fully restored.”

I think of the moment by the lake when the tree caught on fire.