Chapter 15
ERDIKOA
Rory had a stare-off with Sam across the dining table as they ate an early lunch with her father.
“Why are you looking at me?” he grunted, sticking half a sandwich in his mouth.
“Who is Gedeon?” she asked, satisfied when he choked on his food.
Her father stood with his plate in hand and reached across the table for Rory’s. “I’ll give you two privacy.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she called after him.
When Patrick disappeared into the kitchen, Sam said, “No one you need to concern yourself with.”
A mischievous grin that would make Lauren proud spread across her face. “I shouldn’t concern myself with my king?” She grabbed her glass and took a long drink. “That’s odd.”
Sam pushed his plate away and folded his arms on the table. “If you knew who he was, then why did you ask?”
She leaned forward, mirroring his position. “Because I knew you’d lie. Why?” Before he could answer, she added, “Why would the king assign non-Aatxe mystics as guards?”
Sam’s face was blank, making her think he wouldn’t answer, but he surprised her. “We do not know. It goes against the decree of the Seraphim.”
“Then why don’t they swoop down and stop him?” She twirled her glass around, smearing the condensation on the table.
She smirked at Sam’s annoyance. “They cannot ‘swoop down.’” His massive arms bulged with his tension. “If the Seraphim use their full power in the realms, it will destroy the realms, killing everyone. It is a last resort. Even then, it is not a decision made lightly.”
Rory paled. “Have they had to destroy the realms before?”
“Other Seraphim have wiped their realms clean to start over, but not ours,” he assured her. “There has been no evil bad enough to warrant that level of action.”
“Have you been in the realms since creation?” She motioned to his body. “Since you’re an Angel most people don’t think exists.”
“No. I arrived not long after the current Umbra King took the throne,” he replied. His eyes seemed distant, as though reliving a memory before saying, “Do not ask me about Gedeon again.”
Rory’s father walked into the dining room, holding a book. “I picked this up at work last night.” He placed it on the table.
Leaning over the cover, she read the title aloud. “Re-entry: Life After Vincula.”
He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Inmates are put through an extensive re-entry program when they are released from prison to help ease them back into their normal lives,” he said, sliding his eyes toward Sam.
“You cannot go through the program,” the Angel informed her. “No one—”
“Can know I’m back. Yeah, we’ve been over that,” she grumbled.
“I see you struggling, sport,” her father said with a sad smile. “I thought this might help.”
The knot in her chest burned. She wasn’t just struggling; she was drowning. Life moved on without her, and she hadn’t even realized it, and now she spent every waking moment playing catch up. “Thanks, Dad.”
“I’ll see you tonight before I leave for work,” he promised.
“I love you,” she said before he disappeared upstairs, leaving her alone with Sam once more.
The silence stretched between them, and she eyed the Angel’s broad shoulders. “Can I see your wings?”
He scowled at her, and she bit back a smile. “No. What do you need to do today?”
Standing, she collected her glass and Sam’s empty plate from the table, but he reached over and took them from her, grabbed his own glass, and followed her into the kitchen.
“Today is Wednesday,” she told him over her shoulder as she took the dishes and loaded them into the washer.
“And tomorrow is the Plenilune,” he deadpanned. The Plenilune happened once a month when the moon was full. It was nothing special to ordinary people.
But once a year, it was important to her.
She mentally ran through the months she missed. The Plenilune was the twentieth of every month, and if her calculations were correct, tomorrow was the anniversary of Cora’s death.
“What month is it?” she asked stiffly.
Sam’s hand touched the top of her back. “It’s Avril. Is something wrong?”
Numb, she straightened, closed the washer, and wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Tomorrow is the anniversary of Cora’s murder.”
Sam did not look at her with pity, only understanding. “Would you like to hit something?”
His voice was so formal that she couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Dume and I meet at a special place and drink in her honor. We trade stories and those kinds of things.”
An awkward silence stretched between them, but she was too distracted to care as darkness blanketed her.
Holding her sister’s lifeless body as she screamed was something she would never forget. Not that anyone would forget seeing their sibling murdered, but it often replayed in her mind in vivid detail.
“Do not get lost within yourself,” Sam said with such tenderness that it took her aback. “I know what it is like to lose a loved one, and if you allow your grief to pull you under, you might not reach the surface again.”
Her watery eyes met his. “I coped by killing,” she whispered. “I thought I would feel better if I could prevent others from going through what Cora did. Without it, I’m not sure if I want to reach the surface anymore.”
He leaned down and placed both hands on her shoulders, commanding her attention.
“I know it is hard, but I learned that the ones we have lost are not the only people in our lives. A part of you will always be buried under the grief, but the rest of you belongs with those still here. Do not rob yourself of that joy.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. What he said was true, and she owed it to herself and the people she loved to be present. “Thank you.”
With a curt nod, he straightened. “Stop crying.”
A laugh bubbled out of her as she looked at her robotic guard. “You are strange, but I like you.”
Was that a flush she saw creeping up his neck?
“Earlier, you said today was Wednesday. What is the significance?” Sam asked, changing the subject.
She was still smiling at his obvious unease. “Yes. Dume, Kordie, Keith, and I used to meet every Wednesday afternoon. We decided last night in our group message to play catch-shot against another group from the rec. Sera knows them. She’s filling in for Kordie.”
Catch-shot was a sport Rory didn’t care to watch, but it was fun to play. It’s basically a big game of keep away with a batter, bases, and a lot of running.
Their group only played a few times before Kordie swore she would never play again.
Sam looked Rory up and down skeptically. “You play a sport?”
She pushed him, but his massive body didn’t move. “I’m a Fey. I’m athletic.”
“If little Sera cannot play, I will take her place,” he offered, and Rory thought she saw a hint of excitement flit across his face.
“Come on, big boy, we need to stretch.”
That afternoon, Rory stared at her long hair with scissors in her hand. Despite loving it long, she couldn’t shake the urge to cut it off. There was no explanation for it.
“Drop those scissors, or I swear to the Seraphim I will dump an itching potion on your head!” Kordie’s voice yelled from her bedroom door, and Rory jumped at least a foot in the air with a screech. Why did people always sneak up on her?
Kordie made Keith drop her off earlier so she and Rory could ride to the rec center together. They’d hung out that afternoon, talking about her and Keith, much to Sam’s dismay.
Rory stared at her friend in the mirror like a deer shifter caught in the headlights.
“What are you doing?” Kordie hissed as she snatched the kitchen scissors from Rory’s hand.
“I don’t know,” she confessed. “I need to cut my hair.”
Kordie picked up a lock of her long hair, examining it. “Why?”
Rory rested her hands on either side of the sink. “It doesn’t matter.” She pushed off the counter and walked into her room to grab a hat from her closet.
“It does matter,” Kordie said lightly, trailing behind her. “I’ll cut it for you, but over my dead body will you do it yourself with kitchen scissors.” She was an Alchemist with an esteemed salon, and if her best friend walked around with whacked-off hair, Rory knew she’d be mortified.
“Thank you. We can do it later,” she said gratefully.
Kordie breathed a dramatic sigh of relief. “Come to my salon tomorrow. How short do you want it?”
“I don’t want it easy to grab,” Rory replied automatically and winced at her answer. She didn’t know why she said that, but it was true. The sense that she was missing a piece of the puzzle ran down her spine, and she wanted to break something.
Kordie slid in front of her. “We’ll start out small and cut it to here.” She touched just below her shoulder. “Not too short, in case you change your mind.”
“If I change my mind, can’t you use a potion to grow it back?”
The Alchemist’s mouth twisted to the side. “I can, but I’d still like to err on the side of caution in case you have to keep it for a few days.”
Rory put her hair in a ponytail and donned her cap. “Alright. Are you ready to watch us kick ass?”
Kordie rolled her eyes. “You and Keith are too competitive for your own good.” Rory grinned, and her friend added, “But wait until you see Sera in action. Don’t be fooled by her small stature. She’s tough.”
A hint of jealousy wormed its way into Rory’s chest. Did they replace her with Sera when she was gone?
Shaking off the notion, she scooted around Kordie into the hall and bounded down the stairs. “We’ll be late if we don’t leave now.”
They loaded into the car with Sam, who had changed into athletic clothes and tied his hair back. Rory spotted the edge of a book peeking out from under the backseat and picked it up, remembering she had it in her lap the day they brought her home.
Flipping it over, she scanned the title, wondering why she had one of Cora’s favorite books from when they were kids. Rory set it under her purse on the seat so she wouldn’t forget to take it inside when they returned.