The Blue Woods (22 page)

The Raven performed his little disappearing trick, leaving me alone amongst the pine trees. I stopped in midair, my wings beating so heavily that pine needles showered to the ground.
Face me and fight, you coward,
I screamed in my head.

And with that infuriating little pop, he reappeared right in front of me.
That doesn't work on me anymore,
I thought and craned my neck forward. My beak met his throat. He screeched and fell through the tree branches, spiraling down fast to the ground. My heart stopped. Had I killed him after all?

Far below, just above the ground, the Raven pulled up. He winged away, his flight jerky as he vanished into the forest. Disappointment and relief fought for space inside me. I wanted him dead, but Jonah was right. I was better than that.

As I swooped down low, I spotted bright red blood staining the snow beneath the tree. At least I'd wounded him enough to put him out of commission . . . for now.

Alessia! Where the hell are you? Meet us at the birch trees now.

Crap. I could only hope that Heath would understand after I told him about Pratt and my dad. But when I burst into the copse of birches, my stomach bottomed out. The Stag knelt on the ground while Heath tried to heave Cal's limp Catamount body onto the Stag's back.
What happened? Is he—is he—?

No. But it's bad. Come on, help me.

I gripped Cal's front shoulders, trying not to let my talons sink in too deep, and pulled as Heath pushed Cal's backside with his head. When he was safely perched on the Stag's back, we took off toward town. Halfway there, I remembered where I'd left my body.

I'll meet you back at the house.

Hurry
.

Mrs. Wolfe had thankfully left the bathroom window open. I shot through it and dissolved into my body in one breath. When I sat up, she appeared in the doorway.

“What happened? Is Jonah—?”

“He's okay,” I said and then realized I didn't know if that was true. My gut turned over with a sickening thud. Had Jonah attacked Cal? I scrambled to my feet. “But I have to go. Thanks for everything, Mrs. Wolfe.”

She let me out the back door, and I took off. My feet pounded over hard earth and pavement until I reached Jenny's house. When I burst through the front door, Jenny met me on the threshold. “They're in the den,” she said. I looked down at her hands. She was carrying a pile of blood-soaked towels.

“Oh, my God,” I moaned and pushed past her.

Inside the den, Cal lay on the couch, his eyes closed, his skin ashen. One arm was fully bandaged. His shirt lay open, and bandages crisscrossed his chest. I watched the stain of blood grow larger and larger across his rib cage. “We need to change that bandage again,” Jeff said.

Cora peeled the dirty gauze away from Cal's skin. Six deep gouges ran from his collarbone to his belly button. My head swam, and I grasped the back of the desk chair to keep upright. “We have to take him to the hospital,” I whispered.

“No,” Jeff said. “It will compromise his identity. The Malandanti will be looking for someone with his injuries.”

“His mother is on her way here,” Cora said as she laid down fresh gauze. “Apparently she was a nurse before she got married.” She pressed down hard on Cal's chest.

He groaned and turned his head.

“I'm so sorry,” Cora murmured. “I just have to stop the bleeding.”

“I didn't think wounds like this showed up in your human form,” Jenny said from the doorway. She held a stack of clean towels.

“They can if they're deep enough,” Jeff said. “It's also possible the Bobcat was using some sort of magic to make sure they did.”

My breath caught in my throat. “The—the Bobcat?”

Heath turned and narrowed his eyes at me. “Yes. It was the Bobcat.”

“So it wasn't—it wasn't Jonah?”

“No, Alessia. It wasn't Jonah. They switched places right after Jeff and I got there.” He pressed his mouth into a thin line. “Not that it matters; they're all still Malandanti.”

I sagged into the chair and lowered my head to my knees.
It wasn't Jonah. It wasn't Jonah. It wasn't Jonah.
It did matter.

The doorbell rang. Barb, who had been hovering over Cora as she applied the bandages, dashed off to answer it. A moment later she returned with Cal's tiny, dark-haired mother. “This is Dika,” Barb said, but before she could make any more introductions, Dika marched over to the couch.

“Move,” she ordered Cora, who took one look at the set of Dika's jaw and got out of the way.

Dika slid her hand into Cal's and held it up to her cheek. “
Mily chlapec
, I'm here. You're going to be just fine.” She opened the heavy-duty plastic box she'd brought with her. “Bring one of those towels,” she said, pointing at Jenny. “Spread it down on the floor here.”

She laid out her tools on the towel: needle and surgical thread, tape, more gauze, an Ace bandage. “It would be better if everyone left,” she said as she threaded the needle. “Except you,” she barked at Cora. “You can stay to help.”

“Oh, can I?” Cora muttered, but as the rest of us filed out, she knelt beside Dika without further protest.

I went to follow Jenny up the stairs, but Heath grabbed my elbow. “Oh no you don't,” he growled and propelled me into the laundry room at the back of the house.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Heath snapped as soon as the door was shut. “Cal Called me and told me you'd gone after the Raven on your own. What on earth would possess you to do such a thing?”

“What was Cal doing at the Waterfall by himself?” I countered. “He's not ready to be patrolling alone.”

“I know that,” Heath said. “And he wasn't supposed to be.
You
were supposed to be there with him. But you ran off to see your boyfriend and completely forgot, didn't you?”

I picked at a rust spot on the washing machine. Yes, I'd completely forgotten. The news about Jonah's dad had wiped it all from my mind . . . and then the revelation about my dad had wiped all
that
out. “I'm sorry,” I murmured. “But I found out something while I was at Jonah's house.”

The door to the laundry room creaked open. “You guys okay?” Jeff asked.

“Fine,” Heath said. “I'm just lecturing her about the importance of responsibility.”

Jeff grimaced. “I'll leave you to it, then.”

“No, wait,” I said. Jeff opened the door wider and stepped inside. “
I
was just telling Heath that I found something out when I was at the Wolfes' house. Pratt—the Raven—was there talking to Jonah.”

“And?” Heath asked.

I swallowed hard, hearing again the words that changed everything in my mind. “He told Jonah about my dad. That he'd seen my dad at the Waterfall with—with you,” I said, looking at Jeff. “And he called the Rabbit. And the Rabbit killed—killed my dad.”

Jeff's face, normally full of life and color, drained empty. He shut the door and slid down the length of it until he hit the floor. I knelt in front of him. “He knew about you, didn't he?” I asked. “He knew because you were Called to replace one of my grandparents.”

He nodded and ran his shaking fingers through his hair. Behind me Heath leaned down and put his hand on my shoulder. “I never wanted to believe it,” Jeff said after a long moment. His voice quavered with every word. “I thought the timing was suspicious, but people die of natural causes all the time, right? Dolly had just died of cancer, so it was easy to think that . . . I didn't want to believe the Malandanti had killed my best friend.”

I twisted around to look up at Heath. “Do you see? Why I went after him?
He killed my father.
My father, who wasn't a Benandante, who wasn't involved in this at all. Just for being there. That's why he died.”

“Well—” Jeff said, and I turned back to him.

He took a deep breath. “He wasn't
not
involved. He knew a lot. His parents had always kept him in the loop, and then I did, too. We had all heard rumors that the Guild was planning to set up shop in Twin Willows. Your father was fighting it . . . quietly, through back channels. But the Guild must've found out somehow.”

“He still shouldn't have had to give his life!” I slammed my palm into the side of the washer, the metal ringing like a bell with the blow. The force of it shuddered up my arm, but the pain felt good. It was something tangible, not like the heart-twisting pain of everything else that had happened this afternoon. “He died for a cause that wasn't even his.”

Jeff touched my arm. “Protecting the Waterfall was always his cause,” he said softly. “His parents had taught him that it was a sacred place when he was very young. He may not have been a Benandante, but he would've died to keep it safe all the same.” Jeff squeezed my wrist. “And he would be so proud of you,” he whispered.

The tightness that had been holding me together burst. I let out a sob and bent forward until I was a little ball, my shoulders shaking. I felt Heath come down next to me and gather me up, like I was a little girl who'd fallen off the swings. “You are the best kind of Benandante,” Heath spoke into my ear. “Full of fire and passion, fiercely loyal, and deeply loving. But sometimes you have to set that aside. There are other people in this war, and one of them got hurt today because of your personal vendetta.”

I sniffled. “I'm so sorry. It was so stupid . . .”

“Yes, it was,” Heath said. “Cal could've been killed.” He shook me a little so that I sat up. “Being a Benandante isn't about revenge,” he added. “It's about the greater good, no matter what personal stake we may have in it.”

Personal stake.
My stakes in this were beyond personal. I'd been Called to replace someone I'd known and loved. And was there anything more personal or any stake higher than my dad? I nodded at Heath—what I'd done today
was
stupid, rash, not thought out at all. But I also knew that the next chance I had for revenge on the Raven, I wouldn't waste it.

Even Mages Get the Blues

Bree

There was a whole block of my memory that was just gone, like someone had gone in with a sharp little tool and chiseled it out. I don't remember who found me with Dad, how we got back to the compound, or how long we were there. Maybe my subconscious had roofied me, because all I remember after that was being on the jet with Nerina, winging our way back to Maine.

I lay in my reclined seat, blankets pulled up to my chin. My head felt like I'd gone on a bender. I could almost feel the dark circles under my eyes, their weight dragging at my face. “How long till we get home?” I croaked.

Nerina started, nearly spilling the cup of coffee in her hand. She set the cup down. “We just took off from Vancouver. So another five hours or so.”

I turned my head, stared out the window at the black night.

“Bree.” Nerina rose and came over to me, laid her hand on my arm. “Shen told me what happened inside the Temple. You did your father a mercy.”

I couldn't look at her. My throat had closed up. The effort of not crying made it hard to breathe.

“This war is so unfair. It asks too much of us.” Her fingers tightened around my wrist. “We've all made sacrifices.”

I spun so fast away from the window that Nerina jerked backward. “Did you have to kill your own father? Did you?” I shook her hand off me. “Don't try to justify it with words like
mercy
and
sacrifice
.”

Nerina stood over me, her face a perfect mask of compassion. I wanted to slap her. “The Malandanti killed your father, Bree. Not you.”

“I doubt my mother and brother will see it that way.” The tightness stole back into my throat, threatening to cut off all my oxygen. I tried to imagine telling Mom and Jonah what had happened. My whole body clenched up, fighting off the grief, battling against the horror . . . if I let go for just one instant it would destroy me.

“They will. They will forgive you.” Nerina dropped back into her seat. She stared at me, but she was seeing something else, something only she could see. “But you have to forgive yourself.”

My hands trembled. I dug them deep into the blankets, trying to warm them even though I knew nothing could. “I will never forgive myself,” I whispered.

Nerina nodded, still that faraway look in her eyes. “I understand,” she murmured. “But one day you will do something good, and you'll know you've finally been redeemed.”

Well,
that
was an odd thing to say. Curiosity cracked through the veneer of grief. “What did you do that you had to be redeemed for?”

Her eyes shifted back into focus. “I've had a very long time to make a lot of mistakes, Bree.”

I wasn't in the mood for her vague crap. I stared at her wordlessly.

“What?” Nerina said.

“You've been lying to me for weeks. You know something about that spell that turns a Malandante into a Benandante, but you refuse to tell me.”

She rubbed her hands over her face. For once she wasn't perfectly made up, and I could see dark circles of her own painting her skin. “Why would I give you details on a spell that I hope you never have to use?”

“Because it could help Jonah!” I flung the blankets off me and stomped to my feet. “You tell me to wait for redemption . . . Well, this is it! There is no better way to redeem myself for killing my father than restoring my brother's soul to the light.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew they were true. I
needed
the spell . . . maybe even more than Jonah did . . .

“You seem to conveniently forget the other part of the spell, Bree.” Nerina, too, got to her feet and faced me, her hands on her hips. “A Benandante must die in order to complete it. Which one of our Clan would you choose? Me? Cal? Alessia?” She flung her arms wide. “Take your pick, Bree. Choose which Benandante you'd like to sentence to death. Do you think that's your redemption?”