CHAPTER SIX
trinity
At the second floor landing, Catarina stopped with one bejeweled hand resting on the banister. The diamond clips wound into her elaborate coif reflected the firelight from the sconces and bathed the walls with stars. Flames danced along the golden threads woven into her burgundy gown to give the illusion of fire burning the seams. No woman at the mayor’s dinner had rivaled her in beauty or wit this evening, yet they had all retired to their houses with their families.
To her left, Lucian’s empty room taunted her. Silence upon silence was all he gave her these last few years as he’d withdrawn into himself. She could no longer penetrate his languor; it was as if he had become a phantom limb. By his own admission, he chose to walk the city day after day, seeking the suicide he couldn’t bring himself to commit.
She had not thought she would feel his absence so keenly.
But she did.
Rather than go to her room, she went to Lucian’s chamber. The new lock she had commanded to be installed on his door was in place, and she admired the intricate face carved into the dark metal. Part gargoyle, part demon, the lock glowered at her with blind eyes.
Lucian would find some startling changes to his living arrangements when he returned.
“Will you enter, Lady?” the lock whispered.
“I will.” She turned the latch and the lock allowed her to pass.
The fire burned in the hearth and Lucian’s bed was turned down for the night as if he would arrive any minute. Everything was just as he left it. His desk remained piled with papers, and books accumulated on every flat surface the room offered. Everything she had found and purchased for his happiness was here, yet he took nothing from her house but the clothes on his back.
From his desk she picked up a prism and held it to the light. Once, when they sat in the garden, he showed her how to capture the sun. They had laughed like children when the light burst forth in a rainbow against the garden wall. The sight of the colors magically filling the space took her breath away, and he had smiled at her wonder. They sat perfectly still, his hand around hers, and in that multihued moment, they had been one.
“We are never the same without you at my side,” she murmured, echoing the words her twin had spoken to her when they were children. There was no he, no she, only we. Childhood pledges rendered to heartbreak by his latest treachery.
“You’re home early.”
She placed the prism on Lucian’s desk and turned to find Cerberus sitting on the threshold, his long tail curled cat-like around his paws. His canine form filled the lower half of the doorway.
“They bore me,” she said as she went to Lucian’s chair and ran her fingers over the soft upholstery. She caught a faint whiff of his cologne and longed to feel his flesh beneath her hands.
The demon entered the chamber and caressed her with his silver gaze. “They’re here to counsel you, not entertain you.”
“They’re sycophants.” She kicked off her slippers and went to Lucian’s bed where she relaxed, her head on her brother’s pillow.
“Did they ask for him?” Cerberus stopped at the hearth to luxuriate in the heat.
“Of course they did. He’s like a talisman to them; they see Lucian and all their worries disappear. The king of Golan’s northern provinces—Abelard is his name—has agreed to attend our next council. The Council wants Lucian there so he can swear fealty to me before Abelard.” She had until the next new moon to find her brother and wring his loyalty from him. “I don’t know why they believe having Lucian there will make any difference.”
“They are mortal and need reassurance of their victory. You have seen the face of our lord and master, darkling. They have not. Their faith is weak. They must be nurtured.” The demon sauntered to the bed and leapt to the coverlet beside her. “Deep in their souls, they still fear John and the Citadel. Lucian is their insurance. They have confidence in his ability to open the Gates. And there are some who believe that, as Lucian’s Elder, John will not attack while your brother is here.” Cerberus snuggled beside her and rested his broad head on her stomach.
“John was my Elder, too.” Yet John never gave her the patience or attention he lavished on Lucian. The Seraph treated her no better than her father and uncle on Earth. Her brother had been the golden child, prized for his maleness, and she had been nothing more than an inconvenience, useless as the books that kept her brother content.
Catarina took one of the books from her twin’s nightstand and opened it. She tore a page out and released the paper to drift to the floor. “He used to read to me.”
Cerberus heaved a bored sigh.
By the dying embers of the fire in their nursery, Lucian taught her how to read. Their father spared no expense on the best tutors to groom Lucian as his successor, but her weakling brother desired the priesthood. Blind to Catarina’s true worth, their father spent his life trying to teach a bird to swim, because Lucian had no interest in governing their father’s province.
In the night, when the adults slept, the twins devised a plan where they both would be happy. Lucian would teach Catarina everything she needed to know to rule their land, and on their father’s death, she would rule and Lucian would join the church. They hadn’t anticipated their uncle’s deceit and the deaths of their parents.
Catarina ripped pages from the book, one by one. “When we were young and I was unhappy, he would do whatever I asked to see me smile again.”
“It’s been years since our happiness has concerned him.”
“He swore to our mother that he would always watch over me.” Catarina recalled their mother’s haggard face as she shoved their father’s bloodied ring on Lucian’s finger. She had forced him to kiss the cold metal and swear an oath to watch over his sister and avenge his family.
Then she sent them into the night. They became lost in the forest until the Crimson Veil brought them into Woerld. Lucian, duty-bound creature that he was, kept the one oath he could. He watched over his twin. Catarina intended to hold him to that promise. She tore another page from the book.
Even in Woerld, all had been well between them until Rachael stole her brother’s affections. Catarina had warned him to leave Rachael alone, but he’d ignored her. He always ignored her until it was too late. “He’ll see the error of his ways,” she muttered to the book.
Cerberus said, “He sees only misery now.”
“Then he shall have it.” Her uncle had taught her the art of brutality. “In abundance.”
Cerberus slithered up beside her and nosed at the book until she dropped it to the floor. He whispered in her ear: “Lucian resists our reasonable requests to open the Hell Gates. No sooner than he is out of our sight, he has broken his covenant with the Citadel. The same covenant he repeatedly cited for his refusal to open the Gates for us.” The demon’s voice dropped to a sibilant hiss. “The jackals took a foundling near Cross Creek. We believe it died. The jackals smelled another, but it eluded them.”
To take a foundling before it entered Woerld was a minor victory but a triumph nonetheless. She stroked his brow. “Do you suppose it had a sibling?”
“It’s possible. That would be cause for Lucian to justify violating his covenant. If the child passed through to Hell, it’s probably dead or mad by now.” He relaxed beside her once more. “If the child is alive, it will be in our favor. A foundling will slow Lucian down and give Speight time to reach him.” The demon paused, then whispered in her ear, “John has sent Rachael after Lucian.”
Catarina smiled. When Lucian saw how Mastema and the Wyrm had maimed Rachael, he’d change his mind about love. “I’m assured she won’t survive the Wasteland. The Wyrm is upon her. When the demon takes her, I will call her to me.” Then here we shall be, all of John’s foundlings living as a happy family once more. The Citadel would be without an heir apparent, and should John die, her people were prepared to promote anarchy.
“This evening,” she said, “I told the Council that Speight has taken a small party to map a route for our armies. That should adequately cover his absence while he hunts my brother. Lucian knows too much.”
“He will warn the Citadel,” Cerberus murmured. “If they’re prepared for our assault, they could extend the campaign into the next winter.”
No, the attack had to be swift and deadly; Catarina couldn’t afford an extensive campaign unless she crippled the Citadel quickly. Without the element of surprise on her side, John could be prepared to withstand a siege. If he found a way to extend the campaign into winter, her troops would be cut off from their supply route. The costs of the war would exceed her treasury, and Golan’s King Adelard wouldn’t support further battles against the other bastions. No, Lucian had to be stopped before he ruined everything. “I won’t allow that. If Speight fails to bring Lucian home, I’ll go after him myself.”
Cerberus nipped her breast playfully. “Have a care you don’t place yourself in the Citadel’s hands, darkling.”
So long as she remained behind the walls of a city of sanctuary, no Katharos could arrest her. If she dared step outside Hadra’s gates, she could be returned to their damned Citadel for the trial she had escaped.
“If I could send my spirit far from my body, I would never have to leave Hadra. I could sing him home from the safety of this room.”
Cerberus raised his head and nuzzled her ear. “Such power comes at a price.”
A price. For everything there was a price, but Catarina knew how to barter with the Fallen. Deprived of God’s love, the Fallen’s ruined bodies only knew the anguish of their defeat. Mortal emotions were reflections of the divine and gave the Fallen short respites from their pain.
Catarina met the demon’s silver eyes. “Mastema gets my soul and my love. Would you cheat your master of my love?”
Cerberus hissed and lowered his head. “Make no such accusations! Never would I cheat my master of his prize, but surely, darkling, surely you can give me sip of one of the lesser passions? In return, I have power that can be yours.”
“You’ve become greedy.” She tweaked his ear and he yelped.
“Lucian knows our plans,” he said. “Perhaps Speight will find him before Rachael. Perhaps.”
Catarina toyed with his ear and gazed at the tapestry. The agony in the stag’s eyes reminded her of Lucian, and she felt a pang of guilt. Once they made plans with their secret childhood language, both desiring only the other’s happiness. Then he had forsaken her for Rachael.
He was too unstable with his loyalties, and Lucian’s love of God combined with his knowledge of her campaign against the Citadel turned him into a dangerous enemy. Only by keeping him at her side could she be assured of his allegiance. Though she hated to hurt him, she refused to tolerate his defiance, and Lucian never learned from his mistakes.
“My compassion,” she murmured.
“It’s such a small thing to ask.”
She despised the remorse that ripped her heart when he forced her to punish him. His latest transgression proved he still placed that whore Rachael over his own flesh and blood. Lucian would always be in need of correction; he had no discipline. Without her compassion, the worthless guilt would be a memory, and Catarina would force him to submit to her will. “Take it,” she said before she could change her mind.
Desire softened the demon’s gaze as he inched closer to her face and pressed his lips against hers. His tongue slipped into her mouth and down her throat where she felt the pinprick of a needle. Ice ran through her veins as he drew her compassion from her soul. The empathy she once harbored for her twin vanished; all she felt was bleak despair for his betrayal. Her heart grew brittle as coal. The demon finished, and she shuddered.
A sound from the hall distracted her. Cerberus cocked an ear and turned his head as a young servant entered the room with an armload of wood. Obviously not expecting to find his mistress in Lucian’s room, he halted mid-step when he saw her on the bed with the demon. He hesitated, looking first to her then to Cerberus. In the semi-dark room, she noticed his eyes were brown, lighter than Lucian’s but no less lovely.
She waved him inside as her gaze crawled over his muscular arms and strong shoulders. With the same height and build as her twin, he could almost pass as Lucian’s son.
The youth bowed and went to the hearth where he rolled the sleeves of his tunic before he tended the fire. The flames cast red highlights in his dark hair. He worked quietly in a noticeable effort to avoid drawing further attention to himself.
Catarina slid from beneath Cerberus and sat up. One of her diamond clips snagged on the lace of the pillowcase. A section of her long black hair spilled across her pale shoulder to frame her breast.
The sound of the clip striking the floor caused the young man to falter in his work. When she didn’t speak, he resumed his labor.
Catarina removed the pins from her hair. She tossed the clips carelessly to Lucian’s table where they spilled like glittering tears. “Give me your name,” she said to the boy. There was power in a name.
From where he knelt by the fire, the young man froze in the act of picking up another log.
Cerberus jumped from the bed, his tail whipping from side to side as he stalked the youth. “Your mistress gave you a command.”
The servant turned and faced her but kept his eyes averted. “Armand, my Lady.”
“Armand.” She turned the sound into a longing sigh as she untangled the last diamond clip from her locks. “Come here, Armand.”
Armand didn’t move. Instead, he glanced at the door as if to gauge the distance.
Traitors. All of them. Deceitful traitors. She snapped her fingers and flicked her wrist in the direction of the door. It slammed shut. From the hall, the lock snickered.
With trembling hands, Armand set the firewood down and rose. Wood chips clung to his clothes, and he looked at his dirty hands blankly. He brushed himself off and came to her. Without looking into her eyes, he knelt at her feet and mumbled, “My lady.”
She leaned forward and held her hand out to him.
His lips brushed her knuckles and a tingle of desire flew up her arm. His cheek was damp with tears and she stroked his face. He didn’t flinch; he wouldn’t dare.
Delicately as a cat licking her paws, Catarina rolled her tongue around her finger, tasting his terror. It wasn’t his despair she wanted. “Come to me, Armand.” She tugged his hand and he rose to sit beside her. “Lie down, darling.”
She drew him to the center of the bed and when his dark head was against her brother’s pillow, she stretched out beside him, her skirts settling around them. “Tell me who you love, Armand.”
Confused by her request, his gaze met hers and she had him. She wrapped her will around his and drew him close. They were simple as sheep, these easily manipulated children, not at all like her twin, who resisted her.
“Your love. Is it a girl? Do you have a girl, Armand?” Her mouth brushed his. “That you love?”
His lips parted, but before he could articulate a sound, a name touched her mind: Clarissa.
“You love a girl named Clarissa. Is that right?” She smiled at him as she traced the line of his jaw with a feather touch.
Frozen beneath her spell, he shivered.
Cerberus jumped onto the bed and brought his snout close to Armand’s face. The youth tried to squirm away from the demon, but there was nowhere to go. Catarina held him in her enchantment so Cerberus could lick each of the young man’s tears as they fell.
“Armand,” she whispered. He made a small sound in the back of his throat. She unlaced his tunic, trailing first her fingers then her lips down his chest. “Give me your love.”
“Please.” He tried to resist her, but he had looked into her eyes. He belonged to her, and in the end he had no choice but to obey.
She kissed his lips and sucked his love from his soul as Cerberus had taken her compassion. Her flesh warmed, yet the relief she derived from this child was a weak mimicry of the respite she took from Lucian.
Her twin’s love was pure, and when she kissed him, she drank deep from his soul. Without him, she was ever cold.
We are never the same without you at my side.
Cerberus moved to her side of the bed, his tail snaked up her ankle to her calf as he stepped on the mattress. Fluid as an eel, he slithered up her back, pressing her closer to Armand.
“Lucian,” she moaned against the boy’s hair. Cerberus’ strength flowed through her veins and Armand’s passion filled the dark holes of her spirit. Her vision was sharper, her hearing more acute. Motes of power danced through the air like a rainbow of light. No drug made her feel like this. She was invincible.
“Sing him home,” Cerberus said, his breath hot against her ear.
She could. The strength was hers. She could find her way to her brother’s soul and sing him home. He would have no choice but to obey her, and when he did, she would turn his heart to glass.
The demon nuzzled her hair and said, “Do it. Turn his heart to glass, grind it to powder, and if he speaks…”
“If he dares,” she whispered against Armand’s throat.
“…crush every soul he has ever loved.”
In the darkness, she sang to a man-child and dreamed of her twin.
Humming softly…
†
He awoke to a broken lullaby he recalled from his youth. Someone whispered his name. Lucian opened his eyes, wrapped in night so deep that he could not see his breath mist before him in the icy air. His sister’s spirit hovered at the edge of their little camp.
Lucian’s blood roared through his veins; fear gripped him by the throat at the sight of her. This magic was new, and she’d caught him unawares. Now that he didn’t have to guard his every thought against her, life outside of her house had made him careless. Lucian refrained from glancing in Lindsay’s direction. For now, the child was safely behind him, out of his sister’s sight.
“Lucian, we are never the same without you at my side.” Catarina’s voice passed through space and time as a nail to his heart, recalling their devotion to one another before her corruption. On a journey with his father, Lucian had written those words to her when they’d lived on Earth. They had been ten, and he knew she pined for him during those trips, so he always tried to write words to soothe her. She was no longer a child and neither was he.
Grinding his teeth against the pain and the cold, he struggled to his feet. “No more, Cate.” It was partial demand, partial plea.
“Oh, my darling,” she said. “We’ve had such a misunderstanding.” She shook her head sadly and her dark hair shadowed her face like a veil. He couldn’t see her eyes and thought himself safe from her wiles. “I know the thought of my retribution frightened you, but you misinterpreted my actions. My spies have uncovered threats against us. I sent my soldiers because I worried for your safety. The priest told me you were terrified so he helped you leave. What lies you’ve spread, Lucian. It grieves me that you believe I am such a monster.”
He felt her distress, and guilt gnawed his heart. Could his fear have clouded his judgment? He remembered her pleading tone as he’d walked out on her. Rather than demanding that he return, she had implored him.
“Now you are in great danger, wandering the Wasteland alone.” She gestured to his leg. “Crippled. What would happen if you fall and cannot rise? How can I live if something happens to you?”
With the special bond they shared, he heard her thoughts as clearly as if she’d spoken. We are never the same, her heart whispered to his, without you. “Come home, Lucian, where the fires are warm and there is no more pain. I forgive you. We’ll forget about this and love one another again.”
Each time she said his name her spell wrapped more securely around his heart. He saw his room behind her, enveloped in heat from the roaring fire; the warmth washed over his body and drove his pain away. Wouldn’t it be good to rest? To be warm and fed?
Come home, Lucian.
Relief flowed through him. It was all a mistake. He’d simply misinterpreted her intentions. This time would different; they would put aside their grievances. She would listen. Surely she would be reasonable. This time.
“Lucian?” Lindsay whispered as she touched his hand. “What’s going on?”
Catarina’s hold over him shattered when he looked away from his sister. The remnants of her enchantment spun away, insubstantial as dreams. The chill air of the Wasteland seeped back into his bones and his stomach growled with hunger. Only pain and humiliation awaited him in Hadra. She would never forgive him for running a second time.
He took Lindsay’s hand and drew the girl close. How could he have forgotten Lindsay? A week in Hadra would leave the girl insane. All the fires blazing in that haunted house couldn’t keep the shadows at bay. There was no reprieve from his sister’s malevolence. There never could be.
He wouldn’t betray another innocent to Catarina’s wrath, not for all the warmth on Woerld. God help me, please. Lucian saw his room again; this time, he noticed a young man supine on the bed. The youth had eyes like stones to match his loveless heart, shriveled and black.
Go home where she will grind glass into my heart for eternity. “No more,” he said a second time, his voice stronger.
Catarina ignored him and addressed Lindsay. “Tell me your name, my dear.”
“Tell her nothing.” Lucian tried to shield the girl from his sister, but Lindsay was captivated by Catarina and stepped around him.
“Lindsay Richardson.”
“Lindsay Richardson. What a lovely name. And aren’t you pretty and pale, like a girl made of glass?” Catarina’s apparition flickered then grew clear again.
Lucian took heart; a spell this strong had to be draining her physical body. He only had to wait her out and pray that Lindsay said nothing to give their location away.
“I’m so sorry, Lindsay. My brother is very confused, his mind is not right. Tell me, has he been telling you about demons and Hell? Angels?”
The weight of Lucian’s fear almost dragged him down. With his shaggy hair and beard, he probably looked and smelled like a madman wandering the wilderness, raving of angels and demons. The fragile progress he’d made to win the child’s trust was broken; he could see it in Lindsay’s guarded look. “She lies, Lindsay,” he said.
“He thinks I want to hurt him, but I just want him to be safe.” Catarina smiled. “He needs someone to look after him.”
“Are you?” The girl stepped away from him and he released her hand. “Crazy?”
“No, Lindsay.” Lucian shook his head. “No.”
“He’s just sick and confused,” Catarina said.
Lucian stood very still so as not to startle the child. “I swear I haven’t lied to you.”
“Haven’t you, Lucian?” Catarina gestured to the mare. “Have you told her that you murdered the man who rode that horse? Isn’t that a lie of omission?”
Lindsay took another step back and tripped. Lucian reached out to grab her arm and break her fall, but she twisted away from him. She sat down hard and looked up at him. “Is she telling the truth? Did you kill somebody?”
“I did.”
“Oh, God,” Lindsay whispered.
“Tell me where you are, Lindsay.” Catarina’s spirit drifted forward, and Lindsay pushed herself backward. Catarina halted. “Not everything he told you was a lie. You were drawn to him, and he is your Elder, damaged though he is. I know you’re trying to understand your attachment to Lucian. These first days are so hard for foundlings. If you help me bring my poor brother home, you may stay with us. I will dress you like a princess and give you everything you could possibly desire. Have you seen a tree, a house, something you can describe to me so my men can find you?”
Lucian wanted nothing more than to let the child see his heart and know he meant her no harm, but he couldn’t manipulate Lindsay’s decision. Either she would choose to follow her Elder or she would choose the easier path of the Fallen. Whichever road she desired, the decision had to be hers and hers alone. If he influenced her as he had Catarina, then he would always doubt Lindsay’s allegiance to the Citadel.
Lindsay sat on the ground, her gaze flickering from Lucian to Catarina. She was overwhelmed; Lucian saw it in her tears, and his heart was moved with pity. He said, “You owe me no loyalty. If you want to tell her where you are, go ahead. I just ask that you wait until dawn. That will give me time to be away. Will you do that for me, Lindsay?”
“Tell me now, Lindsay.” Catarina’s image shimmered with her eagerness and she leaned over the child.
Lindsay evaluated first Catarina, then Lucian, measuring each twin with her gaze. Her left eye narrowed at Catarina. Lindsay wiped her eyes and stood to take Lucian’s hand. “I’m staying with you. I don’t think you’re crazy.” She whispered, “I didn’t think Hell was amusing.”
Lucian wanted to weep for joy; his respite was short.
Catarina’s shriek filled the night. “You’ll tell me where you are, bitch-child!”
Lindsay screamed. “Stop it! Lucian! Make it stop!” She doubled over and pulled at her hair. The band that held her ponytail in place snapped free, and her pale locks tumbled around her face. She yanked handfuls of hair from her scalp. White strands floated to the ground in an ashen heap. Lucian dropped his cane and grabbed her so he could hold her with both hands. Wild with pain, she tried to twist away from him, but he kept his grip.
Lindsay didn’t know how to shield herself, and Catarina intended to seize the information from the girl’s mind. Lucian had been the victim of his twin’s attacks in the past, but Catarina always needed Cerberus to aid her in defeating Lucian’s defenses.
As he had in Hell, he concentrated on Lindsay’s mind until he felt his soul connect with hers. This time, she was aware of his presence in her mind. He startled her with the intimacy of his thoughts, but she didn’t resist him. Under normal circumstances, an Elder and foundling would use an opportunity like this to cement their attachment to one another.
Yet these weren’t normal circumstances, and he would not remain her Elder. He had no choice. Catarina would kill the child. Lucian shielded Lindsay from Catarina’s assault then turned on his sister.
He had no time to mourn his neglect of prayer. He scoured his memory for a Psalm of protection. Yet the only one he could recall was the Psalm Rachael used whenever she was threatened. “‘I cry aloud to—’”
Scalded by his words, Catarina fled from Lindsay’s mind. “God damn you—”
“—‘that he may hear me.’”
“—Lucian, don’t you dare pray against me!”
Free of his twin’s control, Lindsay sagged against him. Sobs racked her body.
Catarina’s image wavered. “Is this how you treat me after all I’ve done for you? You pray against your own flesh and blood for the sake of a stranger! Is this how you repay my benevolence? You offend me with your ingratitude.”
Oh, dear God, but isn’t that grand? He offended her. He wasn’t prepared for the rage that surged through his chest and flushed his face like a lightning flash.
Suddenly, his head rocked and he staggered beneath the pain shattering his mind. His heart hammered against his ribs as if it could escape its prison of blood and bone. Before he could recover himself, Catarina shot another blow to his mind that was the equivalent to a punch in the face. He barely shielded the child from the brunt of his twin’s attacks.
“Lucian!” Lindsay’s cry penetrated his agony.
“Lucian!” Catarina’s mocking voice echoed. “Silence! Or I’ll break you!”
The agony in his head blinded him, and he lost precious moments struggling out of the pain. When the encampment swam back into focus, he raised his head and locked his attention on his twin. “‘In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord—’”
Catarina flinched and screamed. “You will come home to me now!” Weeping wrath, she pointed one shaking finger at him. “Do not estrange yourself from me, brother. I am all that stands between you and suffering. Do not make that third pronouncement.”
“No more!” His voice thundered through the pre-dawn silence, and her features contorted as she shrieked herself back to her warm rooms.
In her absence, nothing stirred. Woerld was silent and the wood not so dark now that death had passed them over. Still, he couldn’t slow his pounding heart nor rid himself of the rancid taste of…
†
Fear soured Rachael’s mouth, almost bringing her to wakefulness before her dreams drowned her in slumber. On her blanket before the small campfire, she moaned in her sleep as Lucian’s terror bumped against her breast. She felt his heart pound; the same heart that had once beat in time with her own. His vulnerability disturbed her, for the Draconian prince she had known never felt so trivial an emotion as fear.
…no more, no more, no more…
We were done long ago, long before this dawn when he denied his sister three times. We are done, Lucian.
Through space and time, his answer drifted soft as ashes, I understand.
Then the fragile link severed and Lucian was gone from her. She wasn’t prepared for the vast emptiness he left in his wake. The darkness his presence held at bay came rushing down on her, engulfing her in a misery deepened by his absence. The Wyrm scratched against the back of her mind, rapping, tapping, seeking a way into her so it could use her for its own, but she cried aloud to God and drove the Wyrm back.
Tossing restlessly, she dreamed Lucian standing before her. She was drenched in blood and thrust her crimson hands forward, her life pooling at her feet. I can’t make it stop, she said as a fly whined past her face.
In the sky, a great dark cloud boiled on the horizon. Thunder reached the crescendo of a sonic boom. It was coming, hidden in the cloud, something huge, coming straight for Lucian. Her breath came in short bursts. She held up her hand, palm out to the blackness bearing down on them.
no no No No No. “No!” She sat up on the cool ground of their campsite, her arm outstretched like it had been in her dream. She felt Lucian’s presence return, nothing more than the faintest sense of his consciousness touching hers, but there with her.
Rachael.
Just her name and nothing more, because he had never called her Rae like the others. He always said her whole name as if he loved the feel of it in his mouth.
Rachael.
Just her name. Then he was gone from her again and so was her fear.
Someone took her wrist and she bit a scream to silence.
“Rae?”
In the small encampment, shapes became clearer in the pre-dawn light that hedged the shadows clinging to her awareness. Focusing on the coals of the fire she and Caleb had allowed themselves, she tried to bring herself back to reality.
“I’m here for you, Rae.” Caleb’s voice dispersed the last of her dream.
He was beside her, close enough to kiss, and for one wild instant, Rachael expected him to brush his lips against hers. An image abruptly flashed through her brain, and she saw herself with Caleb. They were in her bed naked, straining against one another. He kneaded her breast with one greedy hand and pinched her nipple between his finger and thumb. She clawed his back and bit his shoulder; her hips rising to meet his thrusts as he pushed himself deeper into her. As suddenly as it had begun, the image was gone.
Rachael shuddered. Where had that picture come from? “All right.” Her voice was thick with unshed cries and the Wyrm snaked forward. She sent it scurrying. I cry aloud… oh, God… I cry. “It’s all right,” she said.
He nodded but didn’t let her go. She extracted herself from his grip; she didn’t want him touching her. He frowned like he read her mind and sensed her loathing. She shook off the idea. Caleb’s talents were moderate at best. He excelled in sensing the presence of others, but he didn’t have the ability to discern their thoughts. Only those with the greater talents could actually hear the thoughts of others.
“Lucian is on the move,” she said to break the uneasy silence. “He’s coming south with the foundling. Catarina wants him home to her. He’s denied her three times.”
Caleb blanched at Lucian’s name. “How do you know all that?”
“I drift.” Lucian’s word: drifting. That’s what he called the surreal experience of moving between dreams and realities during sleep. “There was a disturbance in the Wasteland last night.”
He gazed into the fields again. “The two of you always were too close.”
“He was shielding the foundling from Catarina.”
Caleb snorted a laugh and rose. He walked to the fire and kicked the dirt more violently than necessary to cover the smoldering coals. “We haven’t even reached him and he’s already started to deceive you.”
“There was no deception. He was protecting the foundling.”
“That’s what he wants you to think.”
Rachael got up and grabbed her saddle. “I’m a judge, Caleb.”
“You were a judge when he deceived you the first time.”
She choked on her rage and turned on him. His back was to her so he didn’t see her scowl. She said, “Which means I’m watching him closely now.”
“Are you really?” He threw the saddle blanket onto his mount and the mare danced away from him. He soothed the horse with a touch.
Her tone turned deadly. “I’m watching everyone, Caleb.” And that includes you, my good friend.
He froze then calmly pulled the saddle’s cinch into place. “I’m on your side, Rae. You know that.”
Do I?
“After all we’ve been through, you should know that.”
“But I’m deceived so easily.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He turned to face her. “Lucian is complicit with the Fallen, and he has Mastema’s gift for lies. That’s how he deceived John, Reynard, me, you. All of us, Rae, he deceived all of us. He’s dangerous and he’ll use your feelings for him against you. That’s how the Fallen win. They turn your greatest weakness against you.”
She didn’t like the fear she saw in his eyes, not at all. Yet it wasn’t Lucian that Caleb feared. There was something else, something deeper and the truth eluded her. It had something to do with Tanith. Tanith tried to warn her, but Rachael couldn’t recall the older woman’s exact words. They had stood close together in the courtyard, whispering so no one would hear, and Tanith said—
“Rae? Are you okay?”
Rachael started and realized Caleb was ready to go; she hadn’t begun to saddle Ignatius. “I’m fine.” She got to work and finished quickly. What was wrong with her? She couldn’t remember a conversation from three days ago, but her past with Lucian remained clear as day.
Caleb didn’t pursue their discussion as they took to the road, and she didn’t encourage any more talk. She’d had enough barren words to last her a lifetime.
The fields surrounding them were coming to life with farmers and their families working diligently to bring in the harvest. She envied them their normalcy and their easy companionship.
Ignatius trotted effortlessly on the good road, and the Wyrm receded with the strengthening sun. Yet she still couldn’t resurrect Tanith’s words. All her mind conjured was the image of Lucian comforting the foundling. He appeared ragged and broken with his tattered dignity drawn around him like a cerecloth.
Catarina was absent from his side and now Rachael understood why: Lucian ran from his sister as fast as his disabled body would allow. This morning’s dream had solidified her suspicions that something had broken between the twins.
The recollection of Lucian’s haunted eyes moved her heart to a pity she couldn’t afford. Yet there was something else, something Rachael could only feel, a desire he guarded jealously, and it had to do with her.
She thought she heard him say he was sorry.
Or maybe that, too, was white noise blowing in the background; words as sterile as the loneliness engulfing her life. The deed was done and though time had not healed her, she had reconciled herself to her emptiness.
His remorse shouldn’t matter to her one way or another.
But it did.