Chapter 17
R hode followed Neela beneath the amusement park’s entrance archway, which proudly declared that they should all Have a Wondrous Day , and marveled at yet another element of mortal society that had evaded him: recreation.
The early afternoon sun was as deceptive and ineffective as any other ray of sunshine would be when tasked with warming frozen metal. The amusements all bore animal themes of one species or another, but no amount of fearsome mechanical menageries painted to look like serpents or sharks seemed either ferocious or, frankly, enjoyable when crusted with frost or tucked beneath weather-beaten tarps.
He tried to imagine what such a place would look like with children scurrying throughout the grounds and their parents, precariously balancing cell phones and melting ice cream cones in each hand, chasing after them.
There was a natural immersion practice he often did when he was alone and deeply entrenched in meditation. During those sessions, he would sometimes manage to make the outside world slip away fully. Walls would fade to open fields. The cold floor would fall away, until he was embraced by nothing but clouded cushioning that supported even the heaviest parts of him. In those deeply mesmerizing times, which were becoming harder and harder to visit, he’d sometimes imagine what it would feel like to live without the burden of what came before. To truly exist in an airy state of fulfillment, where it wasn’t hard to play the part the other sentinels enjoyed so much.
Devastated things weren’t free to stroll grounds such as these, but in those quiet and hard-to-attain moments, when he could truly bask in minutes-long periods where personal peace ran just as freely as gleeful children, well . . . he supposed an amusement park was as good a place as any to fuel the happy thoughts.
Too bad guilt had taken up permanent residence in the esteemed role of the monkey on his back ever since Neela had quietly tugged him along toward the very hell she’d fought her way out of. The hell they were both returning to.
Spying on , he mentally corrected . Not returning to. Not yet. In the game of espionage, details and distinctions mattered.
The crisp chill in the air was nothing compared to the frigid ten-foot gap Neela maintained ahead of him as she led them farther into a section of the park called Tundra Takedowns, which seemed to offer far fewer high-thrill roller coasters and far more zoological-based attractions and theming. Rides such as the Caribou Bumper Benders and Muskox Mayhem were housed either beneath a canopy or indoors entirely, creating an even more desolate awareness of what she was leading them toward and what was stretching out between them.
Any moment, he was waiting for the familiar comfort of his weapons’ cold metal kissing his body to remind him why he was trailing after a woman who wanted as much to do with him as she wanted to be there in the first place. But when he closed his eyes and tried to feel the hum of the metals singing back to him, all he got was a whole lot of silence. No reverberation. No purring thrill of anticipation at soon being called into action to finally end the one being who had tainted him with the very power in the first place.
Instead, all he got was a soothed ego that, while newly calm and satisfied over the assurances of the other sentinels’ thoughts about his place in their household, still turned the rest of his mood sour with every jilted step Neela took away from him.
If he had to pass one more happy polar bear with its tongue lolling over its incisors while Neela was hell-bent on being anywhere else but there, he was liable to torch every wooden caricature cutout just to give them both something to look at that was a more eye-catching distraction than whatever was happening between them.
Chaos he could handle. Silence he could not.
“Neela, a moment.” Rhode jogged a few paces to catch up with her, and while her steps slowed slightly, that pert nose of hers still angled straight toward the ground. Mages, he would have had better luck catching her attention if he were a patch of ice painting the asphalt, but even then, he suspected nothing would thrill her more than to leap over him in supreme avoidance. When she didn’t look up and only hiked her collar higher against whatever nonexistent breeze had yet to offend her, he took her meaning loud and clear: he was the offense.
“Hold.” Rhode gently gripped her by the shoulder and angled himself in front of her.
Given the choice between dealing with her advancing problems or dealing with him, she reluctantly chose the latter and finally stopped. “It’s not that much farther. If we keep going, we could be there before?—”
“You’ve used up all your anger by aiming it at me instead?” A thoughtful display of confusion played across her face, and he used the opportunity to try and wedge into whatever good graces she still might have held for him. “I don’t think that’s wise, do you? Not if we’re about to encounter more demons.”
She folded her arms across her chest, and that lovely indignation flamed the apples of her cheeks. “Glad you’re finally getting around to the elephant in the room.”
“I see no elephants.” Rhode extended his arms and made a show of sweeping them around. “Unless you count that Mastodon Mountain attraction we passed before we turned into this area of the park. I’m still not sure what a rock wall has to do with an extinct elephantid, but if the other amusements are anything to go by, the mortals who did the theming most likely couldn’t refuse the potential for the alliteration.” Yeah, he was being a sarcastic asshole, but it was a length he was willing to go to assuage his guilt and clear some air between them.
Neela’s top lip quivered, and though she shut the movement down almost as fast as it appeared, it didn’t stop Rhode’s celestial senses from snagging on it and taking the win for what it was: the makings of a smile.
“I’d rather have your annoyance than your anger.”
“Since when?”
He opened his mouth to speak but was stunned when no answer came. Surprisingly, the lack of that awareness, or perhaps the change in its perception, was a deterrent to the hardened balm that had so long cloaked his frame against the harshness of her kind.
She was a demon. A charmer. Cyro’s get and potential heir to whatever hell the bastard was further cooking up.
Yet, when Rhode looked at Neela, very little of the hatred-colored lenses he saw her kind through seemed to cloud his vision. Not anymore, at least. Instead, his eyes delighted in focusing on other parts of her. Lush curves, golden spun-sugar hair, and a sensuous smile he had trouble recalling due to him giving her a lack of occasion to use it. There were far too many constant assaults on his senses, and dammit, he wanted more , but his desire was disturbing somehow. Physical attributes aside, there was a hollowness slightly dulling her aura that not only called to his wretched internal aches but seemed to seek out something from him as well.
Acceptance? Admiration?
Forgiveness?
“What?” he asked, hoping she’d dismiss his forgetfulness at what she’d asked him, while still very much wanting to hear her voice again.
“Since when would you rather have me annoyed at you instead of angry? I was under the impression you’d take as little of either option as possible and were only tolerating as much of me as you could stomach. You’ve made it perfectly clear where you think I belong, and that place is about as far from your side as possible.”
Ouch. Her words were a firebrand across his chest and stood their own against some of the harshest inflictions ever leveled against him. Perhaps because her words were so well deserved. Perhaps because he had been seeking his vengeance from the wrong charmer and, instead, should have been offering his own amends.
“You are mistaken.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“If you expect me to believe that, you’re going to have to say it without looking like you’re being actively disemboweled.”
Rhode winced. Damn, this woman had more barbs on her tongue than Iron’s mace. And still, he found himself deserving of every single one of them.
Before he could summon whatever sort of facial expression Neela would find the least amount of fault in, a growing warmth spread throughout his core, infusing his muscles and spirit with the lightness he’d only ever experienced through deep meditation. A sense of peace, calm, and understanding, fueled by his fire instead of the need to quell his ever-present fury.
It was usually a fleeting sensation, but it lingered within him and gave him the wherewithal to offer up some of that soothing energy by way of voicing gratitude.
And because he couldn’t resist, a not-so-small bit of showmanship.
“Words are failing me,” he said, shaking his head. “It has been quite some time since I’ve had to answer for my own emotions, and I fear I have yet to improve the skill set.”
“Yeah, well, welcome to the club of sentient beings. It’s a common affliction among its members and has no known cure.”
Apparently .
He chuckled softly, more to hide his discomfort with his spoken truth than the reality of her rejoinder. “No, I don’t suspect there is one, but perhaps small strides toward rectifying my behavior aren’t entirely out of the question. At least, not yet.”
Then Rhode turned to face the building behind them and pulsed his power into the mechanical latches and electrodes that had long been shut down for the fall and winter seasons. Slowly, gears cranked, doors lifted, and starved light bulbs connected with newly completed circuits. Maneuvering his power had become more natural, more centered and grounded in the lightness that came from his enlisted fire. The act was easy and, dare he say, almost pleasant, the way his muscles responded innately to wield the metallic magic that he’d hated for so long.
But for some reason, standing next to Neela, with flecks of gold in her eyes that mimicked the twinkling lights adorning the building’s sign and internal sundries, his metallic manipulation didn’t feel alien or abhorrent. Something was different. Something felt . . .
“Grateful,” he rushed out, then cleared his throat and looked out across the myriad of games and machines that had come to life because of his power. Because of her connection to it. “I am grateful, Neela. Grateful for you.”
That was all he could say. Somewhere, buried below the rubble of his past and the atrocious dig site of his present sat the proper words he needed to use. Phrases that spoke of true emotion, of familial ties and vengeance earned and private memories that chose to make themselves known while others merely grazed his consciousness. Entire tomes articulating every confusing need and desperate desire sat concealed beneath what he was not yet strong enough to clear away.
But for now, he could do this. He could meet her where he was and where he knew she would happily wander.
“Cyro will remain where he is. A supreme spy never rushes and cannot excel at reconnaissance without mastering patience over performance.” Then he extended his hand toward the arcade and waited for her to take the first step. “I think it’s time to learn a bit about your world. Not Cyro’s, but yours.”
Neela’s eyes widened as they flitted among the games’ glowing lights. “You opened the Arctic Arcade for me?”
Rhode nodded but still couldn’t read her tense expression. And to his profound relief, he soon realized he didn’t need to.
Because that time, when she grabbed him by the arm, he happily followed.