34. Emma
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
emma
Six-Mile
Beneath the Cold Moon
The night of the end of the world came up white, frost on every blade of grass like the earth had been salted.
The Cold Moon confrontation was imminent. Under it, I’d build a dome and prepare for an end. Acheron’s or mine. But that was hours off yet. First, I had rounds to make.
I grabbed my phone from the office and left the manor.
I’d spent months learning how to feel every shifter in Six-Mile as a frequency, a thread of the universe. Whatever happened with Acheron, I was going to know exactly who and what I was fighting for, down to the last squirrel arguing with the last raccoon over the last strip of bacon. Name by name.
I began with Olivia. She would have never forgiven me if I had started with anyone else.
She was upright against her pillows, braced chest and all, with a map of Acheron’s camp spread over her knees and a tight expression on her face.
“Where the hell have you been?”
“Fucking Logan,” I quipped. “What else?”
She snorted. “We don’t have time for that.”
“Yeah, maybe, but we like doing it. Have you ever tried it? Maybe with Jasper.”
She blanched. “What?”
“You’ve got a good relationship with Jasper. Maybe you two should make it official.”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” she snapped.
“Yeah, well, I’m the multimorph, so maybe it is my business.”
“You cannot use that for anything and everything,” she growled.
I put my hands on my hips. “Watch me.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Sit,” she said. “You’ve got a duel in a few hours, and you’re going in as blind as Marcus. I didn’t get my chest opened up dragging intel out of that place to have you waste it.”
I took a seat beside her recovery bed. “Fine, but promise me that you’ll take Jasper seriously. Maybe you two are fated.”
“We’ll talk about it after you beat Acheron.”
“Good. Tell me about him.”
Logan’s loyal beta gripped my hand. “He’s old,” she said, “and he believes he’s foretold a win, so he’s gotten lazy.
He telegraphs. Watch his left hand. When he’s about to throw balefire, the left comes up half a beat before the right.
” She traced a line on the map. “He fights like he’s already won. ”
“Because in his head, he has. He’s seen the ending. He showed it to Logan. He’s been rehearsing it for years.”
“That’s a weakness, Emma. A man running a script he’s sure of doesn’t improvise. You do something he hasn’t already seen, and he won’t know how to react.” Her gray eyes pinned me. “One second. That’s all you can buy yourself. Make it count.”
“You could’ve just said good luck.”
“Good luck is for people who don’t have intel.” She squeezed my hand so hard my fingers hurt.
“This isn’t goodbye,” I whispered, knowing full well it might be.
“Yeah.” She swallowed. “Come back and tell me I was right about the left hand,” she said. “That’s an order. In this hospital room, I outrank you.”
I scrunched my nose. “You outrank me in every room.”
“Finally. She learns.” She smoothed her thumb over the back of my hand and released me. “Go. Your librarian has been prowling around since supper.”
Dr. Wise was in the study with an archival box and three empty cups of Earl Grey tea, by the smell of it. She didn’t waste my time or hers. “I’ve now read every fragment twice more since Sophia fell asleep in the mess hall,” she said. “I’ve been looking for the price.”
“I thought you said it wasn’t defined and couldn’t be found.”
“Well, I suppose it’s because I’m a historian, and I expect to find a record or a notation somewhere.” She shoved her glasses upward. “And I clearly cannot help myself.”
I winked at her. “You’re the best at what you do. There’s no denying that. Any final pointers for me before I go?”
She removed her spectacles, and the corners of her eyes drooped wearily, though her eyes flashed.
“I’m not sure I have anything else I can add.
Nothing that will help you, I’m afraid.” She rummaged in her satchel.
“But I can give you this.” She held out the small polished stone she’d shown me before.
“Your power-up relic? I can’t take that.”
“You might need it during your fight.” She pressed it into my palm and folded my fingers over it. “It’s yours. Also,” she raised a finger, “I think your mom has a crush on one of the older shifters here?”
I glanced at the relic in my hand and then grinned at the older woman. “You’re kidding me. Who is it?”
“Flynn’s father,” she said.
“My mother is interested in Jasper’s father?”
Dr. Wise blinked. “Oh, oh, they are brothers, aren’t they?” She laughed. “I hadn’t considered that.”
“I suppose I’ll need to follow up on that when I get back, huh?” Of all the news I thought Dr. Wise would have, I wouldn’t have guessed it would be gossip about my mother’s love life.
She put her spectacles back on. “For God’s sake, girl, make it back so you can come back to argue with me about my new filing system. Don’t break your mother’s heart.”
“Oh, I doubt I would ever presume to know more about organizing shifter history and lore than you do, Dr. Wise.” I made no comment about the other. I wasn’t sure I could do it without breaking down.
Dr. Wise moved volumes from one side of the desk to the other, and then she fidgeted with her paperwork.
“Thank you for being you,” I murmured. Then I kissed the top of her gray head, and she let me.
My mother was bustling in the mess hall kitchen. She had made cinnamon rolls. Of course she had. They were my favorite. She didn’t burst out crying when she spotted me crossing the thin floor.
Neither did I.
“I packed you something.” She pressed a small, napkin-wrapped shape into my hand.
I didn’t open it. It had to be one of the sweet pastries, fresh out of the oven. Cooking was the love language she’d adopted since she’d come to live in Six-Mile.
“For after,” she said. “You’ll be hungry after. From what I understand, you’re always hungry after all the big magic. Plus, you’ve been hungry after every hard thing since you were four.”
“Mom…”
“Don’t.” She took my face in her hands. “I already did the crying. I did it last night, all of it, so that tonight, I could send my daughter out with dry eyes, a freshly baked good, and all of my heart.”
“Mom…”
“You’re not going to undo any of it by getting weepy on me now, Emma Carter.
I need you to walk out of here believing you’re coming back.
I can’t believe it if you don’t.” Her thumbs grazed my cheekbones.
“So here is what we’re going to do. We are not going to say goodbye.
We’re going to say what we always say. Say it. ”
“Love you, Mom. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Love you too.” The steadiness of her voice steadied me. “Send me a photo of the stars before you shove off for the night.”
“Will do,” I whispered. It was the promise I always made when I was camping alone in the woods.
Then I took a deep breath and went to find the others.
Phil was at the grill behind the mess hall in a canvas coat, flipping enough food to feed a marching army. He just did it, in the worst hours, when there was nothing else he could do.
“Evening, Multimorph.” He put a plate in my hands without asking and turned back to the grill. Eggs, bacon, and another one of Sophia’s cinnamon rolls. “Eat. You’re going to want it.”
“You’re feeding the whole camp.”
“Somebody’s got to.” He flipped a row of bacon with the focus of a man performing a sacrament.
I’d figured it out a couple weeks ago. Feeding people was how Phil prayed. He couldn’t fix the war, and he couldn’t heal the wounded. Winning the duel wasn’t an option for him, but he would make sure no souls marched south hungry. He poured himself into that the way I poured magic into a wound.
“You come back,” he said, not looking up. “There’s people here who’ll need feeding after, and I do better with a reason.”
I ate every bite, standing in the frost, and it was the best meal of my life. I told him so. Phil pretended not to hear me.
My phone buzzed while I was standing at the edge of camp, and I almost didn’t look.
But it was Shannon and Riley in a group thread that had apparently been going since dawn. I read through the texts.
Shannon: Okay, but who’s covering the Christmas Eve shift over there at Dr. Rod’s office? The Hendersons board their whole zoo over the holidays, and SOMEBODY has to medicate the parrot.
Riley: not it lol the parrot bites
Riley: also when’s the boss even reopening?? asking for me who misses the Christmas parrot
Shannon: She said after new year. Spring. Be patient.
Riley: I’ve been patient for like a decade
Riley: tell her we saved her the good stapler for desk
Shannon: We did not save her the good stapler, you lost the good stapler.
Riley: DETAILS
Shannon: Emma, hon, if you’re reading this, no pressure, whenever you’re back. The clinic’s not going anywhere. Neither are we.
This was the thing I folded into my chest like a steel plate—a world where the biggest problem was who medicated the Hendersons’ parrot, a world worth keeping exactly that ordinary, Riley’s terrible jokes and Shannon’s “hon” and a good stapler that was lost.
Me: DON’T lose my clinic keys the way you lost the stapler. Back before you know it. Save me the good stapler you don’t have.
Me:
I pointed my phone at the rising moon. No stars shone in the darkening sky, not with the moon so bright, so I sent my mom the lunar photo. Then I turned my phone off, and I went to find Logan.
My mate was waiting where he’d promised he would be, at the edge of the army assembling in front of the gate. He didn’t say anything, but he opened his arms, and I stepped into them. He put his forehead to mine.
Our bond did the rest.
Everything we’d never managed to say out loud poured across our link in both directions at once. All the sparring on the mats, every midnight in our bed, the breaking of the wall between us, the price and the choosing, the storm, and the anchor.
Race ya home.
There will always be an after.
I love you.
I love you.
Come back. Come back. Come back.