Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Betsy
I’ve been dangerously angry since Flint called last night after Casie had gone to sleep, to tell me everything — the discovered texts, Brett breaking into my shop.
I had hoped that by letting her handle it, she would make the discoveries she needed.
However, we aren’t there yet, and this boy needs to be handled.
Flint can defend quite well, as can Ember, but some things require a…
special touch. Unlike the two of them, I can look, I can see and I know that our Ember isn’t the only victim he has.
I leave the kids in charge at the shop and make my way home. Not the home here, in this world. My real home.
The building itself seems to hold its breath as I storm through the rooms I’ve inhabited for centuries.
As I make my way down the curving stairs to the stone hold beneath the earth, candles flare to life along the walls.
Not that the light is necessary after so long.
I can, and have, made this journey blind, with no light to guide my footfalls.
When I reach the landing, I wave my hand and concentrate. The thick, wooden door opens for me, as it will for no other.
As I will…
I rake my hands through my hair, displacing the glamour that I’ve been using to dampen myself. Yes, it’s obnoxious to intentionally make yourself less, but it was the only way to accompany Ember. While I may not protect with sword and shield, my gifts are more varied, yet no less potent.
Some would say, if they still could, that my gifts are far more terrifying.
In a very basic way, Ember’s dreams are not so different from my gifts. She wants to tell stories, to touch someone with words.
When I write, however, the worlds respond.
Carefully selecting a bone quill and the appropriate pot of ink, I sit and begin writing a very special story, for a very, very special young man.