Exploitation, page 10
“I can’t have another magical being here. It’s hard enough to keep my magics in place with you and Bragi, especially with you leaking power the way you are.”
I was doing what? “I’m not.”
“You are. A conduit can only have so much flow through them at once.”
A what now? “A conduit? Me?”
“You didn’t know.” She tilted her head and studied me.
What did she see that I couldn’t? “I don’t even know what that means.”
“I can only tell you the basics, because they’re rare. You’d have to find someone with more experience to give you the full story. But it’s exactly what it sounds like. Power can flow through you, and right now, it’s not only leaking out, but it’s disrupting other magic, because of it.”
I felt like that explained so much, and at the same time, absolutely nothing. Was that why my shields had failed when we went to Nico’s? “I don’t suppose… Do you know any way to, I don’t know, turn off the spigot?”
“Give me a minute.” Maeve stood and walked from the room.
A minute turned into two, and then five, based on the counting in my brain that I couldn’t stop. Should I follow her? Was there a problem?
“Here it is.” She returned right as I was about to go looking, stepped behind me, and hooked something around my neck.
The instant the necklace touched my skin, an odd sense of comfort wrapped around me. It didn’t silence my concern or quiet my anxiety, but it made me feel better.
I lifted the crystal pendant attached to a soft leather cord. “What is it?”
“Only temporary, based on how powerful you are. It will catch and dissipate a bit of what’s spilling from you. You’ll need to find someone who can give you a more permanent fix.”
“Like what?” I was still trying to wrap my brain around this download of massive information.
“Some sort of mark meant to help control power. It’s not a difficult magic, and if it’s done right it works a bit like a spigot, but it does need to come from someone who’s practiced. Also, once you’ve had the children, you won’t be like this all the time.”
So she did know. Wait. “I’m accessing their power?” Fuck. “Is that why I can feel what other people are feeling?”
Maeve raised her brows. “Are they Bragi’s?”
“One of them. He doesn’t know. Please…”
“It’s not my place to say.” Maeve moved into the kitchen, and filled a kettle with water. “Let’s have that tea. If your friend is okay, call him. Tell him you are as well, and then stay.”
Such a simple plan. I had no illusions that life would stay easy, but I was going to take advantage of this calm, even if it only meant five more minutes of it, and especially if it meant learning about my mothers.
THIRTEEN
BRAGI
I felt like death worked over.
But I was alive.
I also seemed to be in a strange bed, and shirtless.
Maeve’s. That was where I was. Magnus had shown up. I didn’t remember much after that, but what kind of an ass was I, that I couldn’t defend myself?
I assumed Maeve hadn’t been happy about the fighting on her border, and had stepped in. She’d saved me.
What did she do to Magnus? The thought took far too long to penetrate my pain-addled brain. I needed to know that Magnus was all right.
Dizziness threatened to engulf me as I pushed to my feet, and I ignored it. As long as I could stand—speak—I needed answers.
The longer I was conscious, the more my surroundings sank in, and I followed the sounds coming from the other room.
Was that laughter?
The cabin layout was familiar, but the decor had changed since I was last here. The retro-modern had been replaced with something more earthy and classic.
I found Magnus in the kitchen with Maeve, the two of them laughing at something.
I didn’t get to see Magnus like this very often—with a carefree smile and that gleam in her emerald-green eyes.
Fuck she was gorgeous.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Maeve greeted me when she saw me.
Magnus gave me her attention as well, and while her smile muted, it didn’t vanish. “How are you feeling?”
“Alive. I assume thanks to both of you.” My backpack sat in the corner, and it appeared unopened. But I doubted half of what was in it would hold the same appeal as if I’d gotten here when it was fresh.
I had questions, but protocol had to be observed. “I offer my gratitude, Maeve.” She hated the honorifics she’d once adored. Ever since she dared fall for a mortal and lost her throne… “And I owe you for taking care of my friend.”
Maeve shook her head. “Magnus has paid her own debt.”
What did that mean? I’d ask, but I wouldn’t get an answer. This was where having my empathy would come in handy. Except, not with Maeve. I’d never been able to read her.
“You should sit.” Magnus toed an empty chair toward me, as if it were completely natural for her to invite me to make myself at home in someone else’s house.
Things were definitely amiss here. While Maeve didn’t care for formality, she observed it because expectations had to be met. Let people see you slip once, and they’ll think it’s the new status quo.
Maeve nodded at the same seat. “Join us. Tell me why you’re here. Let’s get the business out of the way.”
That was more like it. I grabbed my bag and took a seat. “I’d like to ask you to make me a sticky salve.”
Maeve clucked. “You’re trying it again.”
“It’s for a friend.” I expected her to say this wouldn’t be cheap. It never was. I opened the bag, and frowned when I saw most of the contents were squashed. “My gifts didn’t make it. I will bring replacements.”
Maeve shrugged. “Let’s see anyway. Unless it’s inedible, I might make an exception. If you swear to not speak of this to anyone.”
Who was I dealing with and what had Magnus given her?
I extracted a large, bottled Coke—the one item that was still intact—and set it in front of Maeve. A cinnamon roll that was more of a pancake. And the sauce and bread-pate filled package from the pizza place she loved in a nearby town. It had held a calzone. Now, it was nothing more than a mess.
These were all things she could get on her own, but it was the gifting and the consideration that mattered.
Maeve grabbed the drink and flicked the lid with her thumb. The cap popped off with a soft hiss and clattered against the tabletop, spinning to a stop. “You were always my favorite.” She took a long drink.
She said that to anyone who brought her the right food.
I had no issue with that. “What else do you need? Finishing ingredients.”
“What’s it for? What has your friend lost?”
Magnus was quiet, as she had been since I walked in the room. Her expression was contemplative.
I would’ve expected at least one snarky comment from her by now. How was I going to get her to forgive me if I couldn’t tell what she was feeling?
“I need two.” I was taking a risk asking for more, but if there was ever a time to push my luck, this felt like it. “One for memories, and one for magical energy.”
Maeve raised her brows.
Magnus cleared her throat with a loud cough. “It’s for a friend,” she mimicked my earlier statement.
There it was. At least that was what I expected. I shrugged. “I’m here. I have to ask.”
“I’ll do it, because I like Magnus,” Maeve said. “But the requirements are complicated.” She rattled off a list of items, and I committed them to memory. She wouldn’t repeat herself.
“Something to do. Finally.” Magnus let out a tiny exhale that sounded a lot like relief.
It must be gnawing at her to not have a way to take action. “I’m not sure this is what you’re looking for. Most of this can be found in markets.”
“Like we hop down to the Piggly Wiggly?” Magnus asked.
Maeve stared at her, blinking rapidly a few times. “Beg pardon. The what?”
Magnus smirked. “It’s a grocery store. Down south. You don’t get out much, do you?”
“Not a lot of call for it.”
“When this is done, I’ll introduce you to Dahlia and we’ll take you shopping.” Magnus’s enthusiasm trailed off to nothing by the end of the sentence.
Maeve nodded. “When this is done. Yes.”
I was sorry I’d slept through whatever transpired between them. “To answer your question, no. More like street vendors.” I ticked through the mental list, as much to cement it in my head as to assign buying locations. “France. Qatar. Fiji. Etcetera.”
“It’s still taking action,” Magnus said.
“And you can replace your payment when you return, Bragi.” Maeve finished off the soda.
Magnus stood. “Thank you. For everything. We should get back to Nico.” She wobbled on her feet and steadied herself with the back of her chair.
Maeve was on her feet as quickly as I was, both of us moving to Magnus’s side.
That was odd.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
Magnus pulled away from us. “Fine. Really. I feel bad about leaving him alone for so long.”
“You called him, and he told you he was fine.” Maeve tilted her head and studied Magnus. “When was the last time you slept?”
“Last night?” Magnus’s reply was less than convincing.
Maeve sighed. “Actually slept.”
“2015? I don’t know. I’ll be fine.”
“Yes. You will be.” Maeve brushed her fingers along Magnus’s forehead, and Magnus wobbled.
I caught her before she hit the ground, and lifted her unconscious—sleeping?—form. “You could’ve hurt her.”
“I knew you had her.” Maeve returned to her seat. “Put her in my bed. I suspect the one you were in needs clean sheets.”
“No. Really. What happened while I was out?” None of her behavior made sense to me.
Maeve picked at the squashed calzone with a frown. “Girl talk. She’ll sleep for a while—she needs it—and you and I need to talk.”
I didn’t have an argument. In Maeve’s room I tucked Magnus in, then returned to the kitchen.
“Your friend stopped by a few weeks ago,” Maeve said as I took my seat again.
Simple phrase. It could mean a lot of things, but it was specific, and the information made my blood run cold. Vidar had been here. “I don’t suppose you’re willing to say why.”
“He was looking for the smoky quartz crystal that’s currently hanging around Magnus’s neck. Rather, he was looking for that on a much larger scale.”
I’d noticed the jewelry, and assumed it was just another accessory Magnus decided to wear. I should’ve looked closer. Known better. “You gave that to her.”
“I did.”
Whatever bond had formed between Magnus and Maeve, whatever connected them, I needed it to be strong enough for Maeve to give me real answers. “Vidar wants something from her, and we don’t know what.”
Maeve dipped her head with a frown, and her entire body heaved with her sigh. “I told her this, but it seems you need to know too. She’s a conduit.”
Fuck. How long had Vidar known? Dahlia wasn’t his end game—which was why he was willing to let her go, when she and Magnus left TOM. Why he worked so hard to keep Magnus there. To get closer to her.
That had to be his reason.
Because for a being who always wanted more, having control of something—someone—that would siphon that power directly into him was an ultimate goal.
Maeve met my gaze. “You have to keep him away from her.”
“I will.” I didn’t know how, but if it meant burning everything to prevent Vidar from using Magnus, that was what I would do.
FOURTEEN
NICODEMUS
The way Magnus hurried out of here was a stark contrast to the cheer in her voice when she’d called a few hours ago. “This is going to take a while,” she said. “We’re both fine, or I am and Bragi will be. I’m sorry to leave you alone for so long. I’m sorry for so much of this.”
I assured her this was the best time I’d had since I woke up. That was what it was becoming in my mind—the day I woke up with no memories.
I could see why I’d been drawn to her before. To both of them. It was also clear to me how intense the attraction was between them, despite how hard they fought it.
Since I had nothing to do but wait, I’d grabbed the book we’d borrowed from Gwydion, and began to read. It was a collection of old fairytales. Though, not so old I would’ve heard them when I was a child.
It was difficult to wrap my brain around being so old. How many centuries had I seen come and go? Did I appreciate as the culture changed? The technology? Was I aware when cars were invented? Indoor plumbing? The number one?
Too many questions without answers, so I lost myself in children’s tales instead. There was one about a witch who kidnapped a woman’s husband, and because she couldn’t have him, she trapped him in a dream.
There was another about a great wolf who attacked a woman. Fate and the gods intervened, deciding death wouldn’t be her final fate.
So many stories. About bears who fought great battles, and artists who could breathe magic into a person with their ink. Humans who became fae, and a woman who could amplify the strength of those around her, and gates and keys and crystals and a magical spring.
It was all fantastic. How much of it was real and how much was whimsy?
When my phone rang, I was surprised. Was Magnus going to be even later? “Hello,” I answered.
“Nico.” It was Bragi. “Is all well?”
“A little dull without an immediate threat, but otherwise, yes.” I kept my tone light, to let him know I was teasing.
He huffed a laugh. “I wanted to let you know this is taking longer than expected. However, we will be back in a few hours.”
I was surprised to be hearing from him, given Magnus said he needed to recover. “Is everything all right?”
“It is. And I have one hel of a story to tell when we return.” He sounded lighter than he had since I met him.
“I look forward to it.”
“Nico.” Bragi’s voice caught me as I was going to hang up. “In my suitcase, there’s a stack of notebooks. Journals from when I knew you. They may not make sense, you may not be able to read my chicken scratch, but you’re welcome to read them.”
That sounded personal. Far more so than listening to a dictated tale. “Thank you. I’ll see you both when you return.”
As I disconnected, conflict warred inside me. Journals. Such a personal thing. Did I wish to step that deeply inside his head when I couldn’t even do so for myself?
It may provide insight into me, and it would definitely do so about him.
I wasn’t sure I could read any more fairytales. It felt wicked opening Bragi’s bag while he wasn’t here, but I didn’t need to dig through all his unmentionables. I found the leather bound books wrapped together with a leather cord, and tucked securely in one corner of the suitcase.
The only way to unwrap the stack, as far as I was concerned, was with reverence. I set the binding and all but one of the books on the coffee table, settled back, and opened the top book.
Letters and words were scrawled in inconsistent ink across the pages. It took a few minutes for me to decipher sentences, thanks to an older dialect, fading lines, and flowing scribbles, but once I understood the style, I found myself falling into it.
The stream of consciousness about the first time Bragi met me was intimate. The way he described me, with flowery adoration, made heat rush to my face.
As the days continued, though he and I had parted ways, some of the entries were sweet and others were analytical, but I appeared in many of them.
When I reached our second meeting, the description of how he felt about our kisses was erotic enough to scorch the paper.
I so desperately wished the emotions flowing through me were attached to my own memories of these events. Bragi was a beautiful storyteller, even talking to a blank page, but I wanted to live these intense moments from my own perspective.
I closed Book Two and set it aside. I needed a break. To get some air.
Dahlia and Magnus had explained the protections around the cabin extended quite a ways. So we wouldn’t be confined to the small room. Which was good because I needed to walk.
When I stepped outside, a chill wrapped around me. Nighttime in the desert. Though the air was cold against my face and arms, it didn’t penetrate. Was that me, keeping me warm?
The space here was so… big, and under the dark night sky it felt like I could fall in any direction and never stop. It was both terrifying and awe inspiring. I picked a direction and walked, occasionally glancing over my shoulder to make sure I could still see the light of the cabin.
The longer I was out here, the less I looked back. The walking didn’t clear my head, but it did help me slot thoughts more neatly. It also left an itch in my back. My shoulders. Not the kind that one could physically scratch. It was a desire to move.
I was moving though. Walking. Enjoying. There was so much wide open space around me, and the vast expanse of open nothing whispered in my ear. My attention was drawn to the sky as much as the ground, and that feeling of falling up flitted through me. It flowed into my hands and feet, and encased me until I swore I could touch the stars.
I was barely aware of reaching for the pinpricks of light. Were they getting closer? The wind rushed hard past my face, and I looked down.
The ground was several meters below me. I was flying.
The rush of air was no longer cold, or at least it didn’t feel that way, and the wind didn’t tear at my bare skin. Instead, I swooped and soared, riding air currents as if I’d always done it.
Then again, I probably had.
I lost track of time, gliding flying until the black sky turned gray and the faintest hints of light peeked over the mountains in the distance.
