Influence, page 15
part #9 of Beginning's End Series
“I’m sorry, Evan. I didn’t mean that.”
Their eyes met with a glance, and it was forgiven.
A hush of silence fell between them, harder than any that had come before.
The usual troubles that plagued them seemed easy by comparison. Drawn in simple lines, everyone standing on the same side. But this was a different kind of problem. Insidious and layered, burrowing into the cracks of things and making tiny fractures where none had existed before.
After a long while, Kiera forced herself to speak.
“I do not wish to keep it,” she repeated quietly, flashing a quick look at the shifter, “but I won’t risk it falling into the wrong hands. Perhaps there is some middle ground we have not yet considered. Until then, I will carry it. It bears no immediate danger to me.”
The others nodded without looking, then Evander glanced up in surprise.
“Why not?” he asked, remembering the boy’s painful grimace. The tired slump to his shoulders and the way he rubbed at his head.
She gave a weary shrug, touching the pendant at her neck. “I have already given everything I have to this one. There is nothing left to fill the other. It must simply wait.”
But wait for what...? That is the question.
“This is a mistake,” Jesse said flatly, but he pressed it no further. He merely looked at Eden, feeling the fae’s punishment rising on his cheek. “I hope in time you will see that.”
The fae smiled sadly. “I’m afraid that lesson will be yours.”
THE FRIENDS HAD GOTTEN into the habit of walking until the brink of nightfall, but as soon as the sky began to darken, they prepared a quick dinner and got themselves to bed.
Kiera lay awake for what felt like hours, tracking the slow orbit of the moon as it lifted over the ceiling of the tent. The fae used lighter fabric to make their shelters than the worn browns and greens they were used to, still heavy enough to keep out the weather, but pale enough to let in the light. After a long while, she reached into her pocket, curling her fingers around the sorcerer’s stone.
It was smaller than the one inside her pendant. Heavy and cold. She wondered vaguely if her own had felt the same before some part of her claimed it, but there was nothing about them that felt similar—not a hint of that quiet recognition that had made it familiar as her own name.
What if Jesse’s right? What if this is the weapon we’ve been waiting for?
What if Eden’s right, and I should throw it into the sea?
She let out a quiet sigh, turning her head to look at the others.
Jesse was stretched out alongside her, an arm thrown carelessly over his face and his feet wedged against the bottom of the door. The vampire had patrolled the woods for a few hours, but returned when he’d found them empty—slipping inside and settling beside the fae.
Eden...was having a nightmare.
She lifted a little higher to see him, squinting her eyes in the dim light. Instead of his usual peaceful slumber, every line of the fae was rigid and taut. A grimacing tension had settled over his lovely features, and his fingers kept twitching, caught in the grips of a whispering dream.
Evander awoke a moment later, feeling the fae’s discomfort as his own.
A minute passed as he stared in watchful silence, debating whether to wake him, running a gentle thumb over his hand. Before he could decide, the fae’s eyes flew open, fixing on the moonlit ceiling, as his lips parted with a silent gasp. It took him a few seconds to come out of it, to notice the vampire at his side. His eyes widened to silver pools, as if he’d seen him just moments before.
“Did you say something?” he whispered.
Evander shook his head, still holding the fae’s hand. “Were you dreaming?”
Eden didn’t respond. He merely stared another moment in silence, before rolling over and going back to sleep. The vampire continued watching him much longer. Neither one got any rest.
EDEN WAS STILL TROUBLED the next morning, going through the usual paces with a quiet tension in his eyes. Chopping the wood, filling the flasks. The others did their best to ignore him, but the fae had never been very receptive to that idea. He was even worse at keeping those moods to himself.
“Whichever of you keeps slipping wildflowers into the bottom of my satchel, I shall feed you to the dragon myself,” he declared without warning, slinging the bag across his back.
Kiera glanced down at the daisy she was holding, edging it out of sight.
I thought it would cheer him.
“Pay no attention to the fae,” Jesse replied in a deafening whisper, pressing a reassuring kiss to her cheek. His eyes lit with mischief as they drifted across the clearing. “He had a bad dream.”
...I shouldn’t have told you that.
Eden flashed a dangerous look over the fire, but it wasn’t as angry as it might have been. He and the shifter had apologized for their sharp words the night before. The matter was behind them.
“My people don’t dream lightly,” he snapped, a spark of that immortal pride blazing in his eyes. “We are conduits of greater purpose, manifesting truths far greater than yourself.”
Jesse nodded calmly, winding the grip on his blade.
“You once told me you dreamt we were making soup.”
There was a pause.
“We sometimes dream lightly,” Eden amended reluctantly, before adding just as fast, “This wasn’t one of those times.”
There was a whispering of air as the vampire swept into the camp behind him. Instead of weathering the fae’s moods, he’d chosen simply to avoid him. But he was never very far away.
“Won’t you tell me what it was about?” he asked lightly, flashing a quick look as he began washing dishes at the fae’s side. “We’ve always shared such things before.”
It was the truth. For all their passion and posturing, the immortals kept no secrets between them. But that had been changing lately, wearing away with invisible cracks.
Eden hesitated a long moment, hands hovering over a flask.
“I dreamt of old friends I have not seen in many years,” he answered quietly, “each of them armed with silver blades. They were trying to take something that belonged to me.”
Evander glanced up in surprise; he hadn’t expected an answer. “What?”
The fae shrugged, returning to his work. “I could not say.”
Very believable.
As if she’d spoken out loud, Eden swept suddenly across the campsite—pulling Kiera to her feet as well. “We’re going to fetch more water from the river. We won’t be long.”
The others watched in silence as they departed, the flasks and caldron already brimming. She flashed a helpless look over her shoulder, silently begging for a rescue, before surrendering to the fae’s iron grasp on her wrist, and allowing herself to be dragged into the trees.
They walked at a brisk pace for some indeterminate amount of time—heading not towards the river, particularly, but simply away from the camp. There were a few times she tried to catch his eye, but the fae kept his gaze fixed on the forest. After a long while, she finally tugged herself free.
“This is pathetic,” she declared, rubbing the delicate tendons. “You must stop using me as an excuse to avoid your boyfriend. There isn’t a person on earth who doesn’t see through it.”
Eden came to a stop beside her, unable to argue the point. He fixed on another instead.
“You need to stop calling him that. I can’t tell you how ridiculous is sounds.”
“What—boyfriend?”
“An unseemly jumble of the common tongue.”
She snorted with laughter as they fell into stride once more.
“Oh, yes? And what would you call him?”
“Something better,” he said flatly, and left it at that.
They walked a ways further until they came to a spot where the trees were thinner, allowing in great shafts of light. A field of pale pink blossoms had sprouted where they fell—growing in soft clouds of color, their faces stretching towards the golden rays.
“Those are beautiful,” she said softly. “What are they called?”
“Liliath,” he answered with a smile. “They call it primrose in the common tongue.” He gave her a sideways look. “I’d better not find any in my pack. Yes, I know that was you.”
“How?” she challenged.
“Which of the others would have done it?”
That’s a good point.
They stood there a while longer, gazing over the trees.
There was a reason he’d dragged her into the forest. There was a reason the others were no longer paid it any mind. A quiet connection had sprung up between them, even stronger after she’d been changed in the fire. She realized now that it wasn’t the connection that surprised her.
It was the fact that it went both ways.
“We will be leaving this place soon enough,” he said after a while, gazing wistfully at the branches lacing overhead. “Whatever happens next, I can’t imagine we’ll linger.”
Her stomach lurched, as if the ground had moved beneath them.
More times than she could possibly count, she had wondered after that very question. Since striking out from Farion, she and Jesse had discussed it in secret whispers—speculating as to where they might go, and who might be with them. Fearful as to whether or not they’d be left behind.
“But we’ll be in the company of your people,” she answered with a lot more confidence than she actually felt. Her eyes flashed sideways, studying his profile. “What harm could possibly become us in the presence of a fae?”
She’d meant it as a joke, a way to ease the tension, and Eden laughed a little—appreciating the effort. But the words triggered something inside him, and after only a few moments, he turned to face her, every shred of that bright humor fading from his eyes.
“Whatever happens, it will not be the way things are now,” he said quietly, worrying her a little with the intensity of his gaze. “The people coming after will be great lords and ladies of this land, councils and commanders and emissaries whose words carry much further than mine.” He paused a moment, like he was debating what to say next. “There are those who will be jealous of the power you have been given. There are those who will wish to use it for themselves.”
Be careful.
The words he didn’t say rang out between then, settling upon her head.
She nodded slowly, thinking of the rush of people they’d met already, of how many ways they might wish to wield it, of the carnage and devastation that might ensue if the stones were to fall into the wrong hands. At the last moment, Jesse’s face drifted in amongst the rest.
She frowned to herself, at the brimming excitement in his eyes.
“How do you think I should use it?” she asked suddenly.
The fae glanced down at her, as though he’d already considered the conversation to be finished. He deliberated a moment, then tapped her pendant with the hint of a smile.
“I think there’s no one in the world better suited to answer that question, than you.”
A scented breeze stirred the air around them and she closed her eyes—letting it blow strands of crimson hair across her face. Wherever they were going, she was glad at least to be counted among them. To have a chance to walk that road with the rest of them, wherever it might lead.
“We should probably be getting back,” she murmured after a few moments, tugging him back towards the trail, “you know how they like to complain when we keep them waiting. Not that we don’t spend an exorbitant amount of time waiting for them as well. There’s actually this—” She paused in surprise to see the fae still standing behind her. “Eden, are you coming?”
The fae was standing exactly where she’d left him, staring at something just beyond her line of sight. It looked as though he’d actually taken a step to follow, but had stopped himself just as quickly. The result had left him slightly unbalanced, placing more weight on one foot than the other.
“Sorry...what?” he called, never looking away. “I was just...”
She paused in confusion, turning to follow his gaze.
There was nothing she could see to warrant his attention, just the same trees they’d been looking at since they’d arrived, those lovely flowers crowded at their feet. She reached for him again, as though she’d done it somehow wrong the first time, but the fae was in a different world, staring with confusion into the forest, slipping further and further from the sound of her voice.
“Eden,” she said sharply, more frightened than perhaps was fair. They’d seen a great many things in the last few weeks to spook her; she had no stomach for it now. “Let’s go.”
The fae nodded faintly, angling as if to follow, but his body stayed rooted to the spot. A kind of trance had taken hold of him, whispering into his ears and shivering over his arms. In his bright eyes, the woods appeared to darken—the flowers wilting, and the sunlit branches clawing together in shadow and grey. There was something out there, he was certain of it.
A familiar presence, moving closer through the trees.
“We should go,” he said softly, taking a step back. “I can’t...I can’t be here again.”
Kiera watched in astonishment as his enchanting face paled with an expression she’d never quite seen, a crystallization of the tension that had been rising inside him since that raven took to the sky. Only then did she realize it wasn’t tension. It was pure, abject fear. He stood like a child facing a monster, eyes screaming in silent terror, arms hanging limp at his sides.
“Please,” he whispered without breath, “we need to leave.”
She turned, and shouted at the top of her lungs. “Evander!”
The vampire was already on his way, bursting into the clearing only a moment later. He took a single look at the bewildering scene in front of him, before blurring to the fae’s side.
“Mios...?”
Eden stared into the forest, trembling like a leaf.
“What’s the matter with him?” Evander demanded, throwing a glance over his shoulder at Kiera. Before she could answer, he called again, louder this time. “Eden.”
Not an ounce of recognition. The fae was miles away.
“It was the boy,” she whispered in sudden understanding, remembering the spell he’d started weaving, not so different from that fragrant breeze. “He did something to him, I’m not sure—”
Eden let out a broken gasp, tears streaming down his face.
Seven hells.
The vampire took a compulsive step towards him, raw as a nerve, then stopped himself at the same time. A look of true devastation crashed over him, as he motioned for Kiera instead.
“Go to him,” he urged quietly. “I will not be a thing that helps.”
Her chest tightened painfully. “Evander, he isn’t—”
“Please,” the vampire begged, beckoning her frantically closer, “just—”
“Evander?”
The name whispered from the fae’s lips, the only thing in the world that could drag him back from the brink. He cast a fleeting look over his shoulder as if to confirm it, then flew in a mindless panic to the vampire’s side. He didn’t shrink away or cower. He clung to him instead.
“He’s coming,” he whispered, pale as a ghost. “He’ll find us.”
Evander shook his head desperately, cupping the side of his face. “Who’s coming?”
Eden didn’t answer, perhaps he couldn’t. He simply looked over his shoulder, staring fearfully into the trees. That presence was getting closer, gaining momentum, taking shape.
“We can’t be here,” he stammered, clutching the vampire’s tunic. “We need to—”
Eden.
The fae’s head jerked in sudden recognition, as if someone had called his name. His eyes flew back to the woods, fixing on a specific point, as his lips parted in a silent scream.
It was strange to describe what happened next, mostly because Kiera was privy to only one side of it. But in the childlike terror of Eden’s expression, she felt as though she could see the other, like a shadowy reflection, rising from the depths of his truest dread.
“Evander,” he whispered, clasping the vampire’s hand.
In the wilds of his eyes, she tracked the slow progression—something was moving towards him, drawing closer with every step. A prickle of fear stirred her own blood, and although it was only an enchantment, she knew with sudden certainty that the consequences would be real.
This thing, if it caught him, would bring death with it. There would be no surviving the collision. The fae’s heart would not withstand the shock.
Eden, run. Fast as you can.
She tried to say the words out loud, she tried to scream them. But whether it was her own disbelieving shock or a remnant of the sorcerer’s spell, they withered like ash on her tongue.
Closer and closer, the thing came. Looming larger with every step. It swallowed the space between them, shrinking in the fae’s fevered eyes, then faster than seemed possible, it was there.
The world seemed to suspend, as a kind of shadow fell over him. His body, which had been wracked with tremors, went suddenly docile and still. In a kind of daze, his eyes lifted—as though there was a blade poised above him, glinting in the shadows, ready to strike.
His eyes fluttered shut, and the name whispered again from his lips.
Evander.
Then all at once, everything changed.
With a blistering scream, the vampire released his hand and leapt in front of him, drawing the sword from his belt and swinging it in violent sweeps. Kiera watched in astonishment as he rampaged around the clearing—slicing at anything and everything—hacking away at those lovely flowers until that fateful corner of the forest, and everything inside it, was shredded to bits.
He was panting by the time he finished, strands of dark hair sticking to the sides of his face.
With exaggerated slowness, he turned around to see Eden watching—rigid as a statue, one hand clasped over his mouth. A moment passed, and the fae’s eyes lowered to a specific point on the ground, widening and drifting, as if there was blood seeping through the leaves.
