Desire, page 12
Dorian pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “Your feelings are clouding your judgment. He has no idea how to feel, how to be good. All he knows is violence. We don’t need a spy right now.” He looked up. “He has to go.”
Alana swallowed. “Give me two weeks. If he can’t let it go, if he can’t change, if he asks too many questions, you can kick him out.” She leaned closer. “He has good in him. Egon’s influence is strong. I can bring it out.”
“You can’t change a soul that’s corrupted.”
“I don’t want to change him. I want to guide him back.” She bit her bottom lip, trying hard to decide if that was the reason that guided her or lust. “Please, Dorian, let me try. Two weeks.” When he didn’t react immediately, she knew she could convince him. “Or aren’t we an organization who helps all magical beings? Protect them? Do you really want to send away a man who has great potential just because of his past?”
Dorian sighed. “Two weeks. But one wrong move, one wrong question, and he’s out. Even after two weeks.”
Alana pressed her lips together to hide her joy. “Thank you.”
Dorian shook his head. “Just don’t make me regret it.”
“You won’t.” She stood, showing more confidence than she was feeling. “Besides, if I succeed, we’ll have someone on our side who knows Eero inside and out. With Kylan’s help, we can get ahead of Eero.”
“There’s truth in your words, Alana, but it’s risky.” He looked into her eyes. “We both know what happens if I die. You need to be ready to make the hard decisions and put your personal feelings aside for the country.”
“You won’t die,” she stated. “Tom will be back soon, and he’ll figure this out. I know he will.”
“He might be too late,” Dorian whispered. “You need to be ready, Alana.”
She wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that he’d pull through, but she couldn’t. “He won’t be late.”
A small smile was all Dorian offered to ease her worries, and it wasn’t enough. Dread spread in her chest, tightening her lungs, squeezing her windpipe, and she swallowed against the choking feelings. Dealing with all this loss overwhelmed her, and focusing on helping Kylan seemed like her only option of pulling through. Having a purpose—something to keep her busy so she didn’t have time to spiral down—was her only option. She needed to keep it together because if she collapsed, there would be no one left to pick up the pieces.
Chapter 16
Tom
Numbness, pain, exhaustion. It sucked being dead. Something soft surrounded him. The smell of rain reached his consciousness. Yeah, it sucked big time. Tom heard horses and someone walking. His leg twitched. Was he alive? He tried to speak, and it hurt. Everything hurt. Maybe he wasn’t dead.
“I’m alive,” he rasped.
“No thanks to you.” Declan’s voice was rusty, tired, but Tom noticed some relief in the sigh that followed the sentence.
Tom smiled. “I’m fucking amazing.” His smile vanished as the memories flooded his mind, and he finally opened his eyes, the lights blinding him for a second. “Is Lili…. Is she really?”
Declan nodded. His hair was a mess. He hadn’t shaved in at least two days, and from the circles around his eyes, Tom assumed, he hadn’t had much sleep either.
“How long was I out?”
“Six days.”
Tom swallowed. Shit, that’s long. “And what happened to Dave?”
“You finished the memory potion. I took care of him.”
“Thanks. He really freaked out.” Shifting, Tom tried to push himself up in a sitting position, but his left hand gave out under his weight. He lifted his arm and stared at his trembling hand. Tom blinked and shook his arm, trying to relax his muscles, then tried to fist his fingers, which didn’t work. Nothing worked. Eventually, he gave up and stared at his hand in silence. It was his, he was sure, it originated from his shoulder, and it looked like his hand, but it felt like someone else’s. He couldn’t move it as he wanted to, and his fingers were shaking.
“Tom.” Declan placed his hand on his shoulder. Tom tore his gaze from his hand. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you, but as you can see, I couldn’t heal you entirely.”
Tom licked his lips and glanced back at his hand. “I can see that. Can you heal me now?”
Declan shook his head. “You have nerve damage.” His voice was soothing, soft. The concern and love were clear behind the words.
Tom closed his eyes and leaned back. How was he going to shoot again? Or write again? Or do anything? He remembered the cracking sound when he’d hit the tree, the dog’s teeth in his shoulder, but he’d been able to move his arm. It had hurt, but he’d been able to move.
“By the time I got back from the shop to heal you… you lost a lot of blood, you had magic overload, and I assume you used a spell to suppress the pain.” Declan sighed. “Anyway, I healed you as much as I could. But there is only so much a healer can do with a severed nerve. I’m sorry.”
And there was the fact that Declan had been deathly injured himself. Tom had seen how his wound had reopened when he’d tried to save Lili. There was no way Declan could’ve healed him without dying. And one death was enough. More than enough.
Tom squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. It couldn’t be. This was just a bad dream. He swallowed back his tears and looked at his hand again. The tremor was still there. He tried to fist his fingers, but he could barely bend them. With his right hand, he squeezed the sheets so much it hurt. Taking a deep breath, Tom filled his body with magic. His stomach flipped, and a migraine pulsed behind his eyes, but he guided the power into his arm, anyway.
His hand stopped trembling. And he could move his fingers freely.
Declan cleared his throat. “I think you shouldn’t do magic right now. With time, you’ll learn to use your right hand.” He placed his hand on Tom’s arm. “And with time, your left hand will get better.”
Tom let go of the magic and turned to Declan. “I’m an archer…” His voice trailed off. This wasn’t the time to freak out. He was alive. He shouldn’t be, but he was. And he had to deal with the consequences of his actions, his inability to heal, to save a friend and mentor’s life. “Never mind. We should go home.” He threw his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, but fell back. “Maybe we should wait a day or two?” Pressing his fingers to his temples, Tom let out a painful moan. “Or at least wait until this headache is gone.”
Declan chuckled and stood. “I’m just glad your magical channels didn’t collapse. And you only have a few wrinkles.”
Tom’s heart jumped into his throat. “Wrinkles?”
Declan laughed hard. “Oh, boy, you should’ve seen your face. Don’t worry, you don’t have wrinkles. I think your ring sucked the trapped magic from your body.” He walked to the door. “I’ll take care of a few things. You should rest.”
“Declan,” Tom called after him, “you should sleep some.”
Declan nodded and closed the door behind himself. Tom lay back, closing his eyes. This was just a bad dream.
Long shadows stretched on the wall when Tom opened his eyes again. The tremor. Tom lifted his arm, but the slight shaking was still there. So it hadn’t been a dream. Slowly, he moved to the edge of the bed and put weight on his legs. A smile crossed his lips when he didn’t collapse, and his headache shrank into a dull pulsing in his head. The events of the battle were cloudy, and a strange numbness he hadn’t felt since his parents had died, took over him as he shuffled into the bathroom.
He struggled with the tap, trying to set the water’s temperature. Annoyed, he set the temperature with his right hand. Then he dropped the soap twice when he finally switched hands and washed himself with his other hand.
“This is fun,” he growled.
After the shower, Tom dried himself and looked for clean clothes. In a small bag, he found his uniform. Still bloody and torn. He swallowed and looked away. The clothing was a reminder of his failure as a witch and as a friend. He couldn’t save her. His power was nothing more than a hyped shit show, a result of careful breeding and calculating. He felt fake, like a clown. All smoke and nothing behind it. He was useless.
But he had to keep going. He had to put on a smile and be confident, because the witches needed him to show strength and power. He had to put on a show and hide how empty he felt inside. Because there was no one else to lead. Maybe it wasn’t that bad that his bloodline ended with him. Maybe it was time to have a change in tradition. And when he died, the legacy of Madelyn died with him.
Fumbling through his bag, he finally found some clean clothes and dressed, heading out to check on Dave. Because he had to make sure magic remained a secret, even though he wished there was someone outside of his friends and family he could be honest with. And despite never really deepening their relationship, Tom liked Dave. But the idea of confiding in him scared Tom. His feelings weren’t that deep, and he wasn’t that desperate.
On the street, Tom shoved his hands in his pockets to protect them from the cold, and to hide the trembling. As he got closer to the shop, his memories overwhelmed him. Everything came back all at once, and he needed to stop to breathe again. He hunched forward and pressed his hand on his chest. Several minutes had passed before he was able to take deep, even breaths again.
“I can do this,” he muttered and clung to the thought, repeating it over and over again until he believed it and finally was able to stand straight.
Tom walked to the Wicca Shop, finding Dave at the counter. The young man looked exactly like the first time they’d met. Cheery and ordinary, with compelling brown eyes.
“Hi,” Tom said.
Dave smiled at him. “Hi. Are you looking for aphrodisiacs again?”
“No. I’m just here to… ummm… buy stuff.” He shifted his weight. He hadn’t thought this through.
Dave gestured around. “All we have is stuff.”
Tom looked around, searching for something he could buy. Images of Lili lying on the tiles, covered in blood, flashed in his head. He quickly turned his gaze back to Dave, trying to ignore the squeezing in his chest. “A simple white candle.”
Dave turned and pulled out a drawer. “Why are you here?”
Tom tried to smile. “Well, maybe I wanted to see you before I leave.” He winked. “How are you?”
Dave rolled the candle into brown paper. “I’m good.” He peered up. “I’m having weird dreams.”
Tom frowned. “What weird dreams?”
Dave waved and handed the candle to him, and Tom placed a few coins on the counter.
“I hope the dreams are at least somewhat sexy.”
“Not really,” Dave said. “More like you’re covered in blood and gleaming.” He shrugged. “I’m sure they’ll go away.”
Tom chuckled nervously. “I’m sure they will. Thanks for the candle.”
A knot formed in his stomach as he left the store. He needed to tell Eliza. For some reason, Dave’s mind tried to recall the events, despite the potion. As long as they were only dreams, there was nothing to worry about, but he might start asking questions.
By the time he reached Eliza’s house, it started pouring. He knocked on the door, and in just a minute, Eliza opened it.
She pulled him in for a tight hug. “Oh, Tomas, I’m so sorry. How are you?”
Tom returned the hug, then gently pushed away the lady before she choked him, or he choked on his own tears that threatened to burst in the warm embrace. “I’m doing okay.” He shrugged. “Can I come in?”
“Sure, sure, come.”
Tom sat down in the familiar living room. Not much had changed since his childhood. The house smelled of herbs, a pile of wood stood in the fireplace, knitted blankets covered the worn sofa, and bookshelves covered the wall behind it.
“I’m here because of Dave. The guy in the herbal store.”
Eliza chuckled. “I know him. His mother is into magic. We’re keeping it non-magical friendly.” She smiled. “Tea?”
Tom nodded. “He saw things… magic. Real magic.” He swallowed. He wasn’t ready to talk about the events. “Anyway, you should know that he’s having dreams about that night.”
Eliza nodded. “I’ll make some relaxing tea for you.”
Tom leaned back and fiddled with the candle while Eliza was in the kitchen. When she returned, and poured from the teapot, Tom lifted the cup with his left hand, spilling half of it on the table.
“Oh, shit.” He reached for power to stop his hand from trembling. “I’m sorry.”
Before he lifted the cup to his lips, a tickling feeling warned him at the back of his neck. He frowned and looked around, reaching for more magic. It was still uncomfortable to use this much energy, but he could handle the slight nausea.
He felt the same power, or more like powers, which he had felt in the woods. Something ancient, something demonic, and a witch. He frowned at Eliza. Could it be her? But how? And what was the other power?
He put down the cup. “Do you have a long-lasting spell in the forests?”
Eliza swallowed and her hand shook. “At the portal.”
Tom narrowed his eyes. The portal had its own magic, and it was quite odd Eliza would cast a spell there. But maybe it was necessary to keep its magic in check. He shrugged. It was possible he’d felt her magic with the amount of power he’d used.
“Why?” she asked.
Tom stood. He didn’t like how Eliza’s voice jumped. “It’s nothing. I just feel funny. Probably from the overload.” He smiled. “I have to go. Thanks for the tea.”
He hurried out and saw a man staring at him from across the street. He was dressed in rags. The hood of his robe covered his face, but he felt familiar. Or at least the power radiating from him. It wasn’t quite human. Tom stepped toward him, but the man turned and, with quick steps, vanished into an alley.
Tom sighed. He was too tired, too weak to follow some stranger. He’d keep an eye on this area, but for now, he just needed to go home.
Chapter 17
Eero
Eero stood at the edge of a field outside Ugresh. His adviser held a handkerchief over his mouth to ease the smell. Eero would’ve loved to do the same, but he couldn’t show any sign of weakness. His stomach knotted and twisted when he glanced at the bodies again. Twelve bird-demons lay in a perfect circle. Their bloodless corpses in grotesque positions, mutilated and rotting. It wasn’t the view that bothered him, but the smell; a sewer had a more pleasant scent than this area. It stung his eyes, throat, and lungs.
He ran his gaze over his men. Some of them were trying hard not to vomit, a greenish color on their faces, others couldn’t keep their breakfast down and puked a few steps from the bodies. Right now, he didn’t blame them for their weakness. He would’ve done the same if he had to go a step closer to the corpses.
A young guard stepped to him with a grimace and his face turned gray as he swallowed hard.
“My king, we examined the bodies.” He swallowed again. “Their eyes and liver are missing, and the same rune was burned into their foreheads. The witches are on their way to prepare the corpses for the autopsy.”
Eero nodded and waved the guard away. Turning back to the city, he saw the young man leaning forward, finally giving in to his nausea.
After a few steps, he filled his lungs with fresh air. Breathing freely again was refreshing.
“Looks like it was the same witch ritual as a few weeks ago,” his adviser said.
Eero rolled his eyes at the observation. “Are the witches having any luck finding out what this is?”
“No, my king, not yet.”
He walked back to the palace in silence, deep in his thoughts. He sat on the throne for more than fifteen years. The alliance he’d made with Darthos helped him keep his position; ending the infighting with the humanoids. People feared him and some even respected him. But with this rebellion, his position weakened; and with these sacrifices, the humanoids could turn against him. And his army wasn’t strong or big enough to fight two wars.
He was so close to his dreams; he couldn’t lose now.
“Any news from Ethan?” Eero asked, stepping inside the palace.
“No, my king.”
He knew he’d made a mistake when he’d sent Kylan away, but he couldn’t give more power to the boy than he already had. The people didn’t just fear him, they loved him. Kylan knew when to strike hard and when to offer his help. He would be a great king one day. But before he let his oldest take the throne and his life, he wanted to unite all three counties north of the Empty Lands, and he wanted to open the portals. All he needed was a strong enough telepath who could control the demons. And of course, a Madelyn witch and a Nolan descendant. Without them, he couldn’t open the portals. If Ethan didn’t succeed in defeating the rebellion, he would have to send for Kylan and bring him home, even if he didn’t have all the information.
Reaching the throne room, he noticed the humanoid’s leader. Darthos’s tail was snapping behind him, his eyes narrowed, rage radiating from every fiber of his being.
“Let them free,” Darthos hissed. “Now! Or our alliance is over.”
Eero stepped to the demon. No emotion was visible in him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play with me, Eero. Three more Thinkers went missing. Let. Them. Free.”
Eero walked to his throne and sat. The news worried him. Thinkers were valuable. They could read anyone’s mind, but they were also small, not bigger than a child, with deep blue fur and huge eyes. They were weak and vulnerable; their only power was mind control.
“I have kept our agreement. I don’t have your demons.”
Darthos roared, and with murderous intent, he jumped toward the throne. Before he could do any harm, two guards were in front of him with fire surrounding their hands. From the sight of the flames, Darthos took a step back and tried to regain control.
“I know you sent out troops for telepaths. I have my sources too. I didn’t care about it because there isn’t a strong enough one in Defreine you can use. You might find one in Lorance, but you’re not strong enough to turn a Protector that strong and make them join you.” Hate glowed in his eyes. “Even your son isn’t that skilled.” An evil grin appeared on his face. “Yes, I know why you sent Kylan to Aldness. I want my demons. If you don’t have them, find them. I want them alive.”
