Chapter 13 Always a Choice
Always a Choice
I knew that answer was coming. I should have been ready for it. But instead, I went very cold. When I spoke, it was like I was hearing my own voice from far away.
“So those things, those Tendrils…they killed the others?” I didn’t even want to think about what that sort of death would look like.
Radven nodded, but he wasn’t looking at me any longer. Instead, he addressed Alastor.
“The curse has never reacted this violently so quickly,” he said. “Say what you will about her ‘character,’ Brother, but I think you have more than enough evidence that she’s the one.”
Alastor’s grip tightened almost imperceptibly on my waist. My hair stirred when he growled, “Do I look like I still need to be convinced?”
“I don’t understand,” I said, rubbing my arms. “Why me? If there are others…”
“You’re the third,” Radven said. “In years of searching, we’ve only found three who could sense the essence of our homeland, and we believe you’re the strongest by far. You might be the only one left in this world who can help us.”
“But how did you even find me?” I was still desperately trying to make sense of all this. “And come to think of it, isn’t it suspiciously coincidental that the ‘only one left in this world’ who can help you has been living ten minutes away from you this entire time?”
“Not if you were drawn here.” Octavian was still driving like a madman, focused on the curving road ahead of him, but his voice was as deep and steady as ever.
“This is where the curse dropped us. It’s where the link between our two worlds is thinnest. You are sensitive to our essence, so it’s possible that the essence drew you here, even if you were unaware of it at the time. ”
I started to argue that nothing had drawn me here, that I’d come to attend the local university and was simply too settled to move after graduation…but then I remembered my first time here, more than five years ago.
I’d come to visit the university campus.
It was my grandmother’s alma mater, and before her death she’d always talked about how much she’d loved it here.
She’d gushed about how this place had “four proper seasons“ and “just the right amount” of people. But mostly she’d spoken of how it had always felt like home, how sometimes she’d even heard the wind calling her name.
It was a beautiful sentiment, but I’d always considered it just that—a sentiment.
At least until I’d come here myself. Even before I’d set foot on the university campus, I’d known—this was the place for me.
I’d felt it in my gut—a connection to this place, a pull I couldn’t explain.
At the time, I’d assumed that it was the same thing that most teenagers felt when they were breaking free of their parents and taking those first steps into the adult they’d become.
This place was two thousand miles away from my parents, but also the place my grandmother had lived for half of her life—the perfect spot for me to start my life while also remaining connected to my family.
And yes—that first day, standing on the edge of the campus and staring up at the beautiful hemlocks, I could have sworn I heard the breeze call my name as it rolled in off the bay.
“We searched everywhere,” Octavian went on, steering deftly around a wide curve.
We were on the lonely, winding road that led up to their estate, and as there were no other cars to be seen, he drove right down the middle, straddling the yellow line—but with perfect control.
“We’ve traveled across your world looking for someone who could break the curse.
We used money and connections and every other resource we had at our fingertips, so imagine our surprise when you were here under our noses the entire time. ”
“It was actually Desmond, one of our trusted servants, who found you.” Radven’s eyes were still locked on the road behind us, but his lips twisted with amusement.
“He’s fond of sweets, and he wandered into that little tea shop where you work to get some iced scones.
He immediately sensed something strange about you, and he said you reacted oddly to him—scratching yourself quite enthusiastically after your hands touched as you passed his scones across the counter. ”
I frowned. I would have assumed I’d remember something like that, but maybe not—after all, I didn’t exactly keep track of every itch or scratch I experienced, or usually give them more than a passing thought. Heck, I’d discounted that strange shivery-ness for the better part of last night.
“It might have been nothing,” Radven continued. “But Desmond has always had good instincts, and he had a very strong feeling about you. So naturally I decided to investigate further. I went down to the tea shop myself to have a look at you.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “I know I’d remember that.” Radven was far too beautiful to blend into a crowd. If he’d walked into the tea shop, my coworkers and I would have been chattering about him for days afterward.
But Radven just flashed me that amused, crooked smile. “We all have our secrets, butterfly. It doesn’t matter whether you remember me or not—I knew what you were the moment I laid eyes on you. I—”
Octavian cursed, and the car swerved wildly to the left.
Alastor’s arm constricted, keeping me from being thrown across the car, but before I could even catch my breath, something sliced through the back windshield.
I didn’t even see it. Octavian was driving too fast, and the Tendril was moving too fast, for it to be anything more than a blur in the air.
But I felt it. Some part of it must have brushed against me, because I heard that telltale hssssss as an angry red welt erupted just below my elbow.
I gasped at the blinding shock of pain. It was hot and piercing at once, like someone had stabbed me with a molten blade.
The car swerved again, this time to the right. All the lights on the dashboard began flashing, all of the sensors going off at once.
“Hold on,” Octavian growled through gritted teeth over the chorus of warning chimes.
Alastor was already squeezing the breath right out of me, but I still found myself desperately grasping for the nearest solid thing—him.
As the car careened around another bend in the curvy road, I held on to Alastor for dear life, trying to ignore the searing pain shooting from my elbow up to my shoulder.
The Tendrils were everywhere. I saw flashes of them through the windows on every side, and sometimes part of one managed to breach the car, slipping right through the metal and glass as if the vehicle weren’t even there. They were non-corporeal—until they struck human flesh.
They’re going to kill me. That knowledge was heavy as a stone in my belly. Less than an hour ago I’d been chatting with my friends, trying to gauge if any of this was even real, and now I was facing the shadowy tentacles of certain death.
Another Tendril whipped past, and I ducked my head, burying my face in Alastor’s upper arm.
These guys saw me as some sort of savior, the hero who would send them back to their homeland, but in this moment, that couldn’t have been further from the truth.
In this moment, I was terrified, and helpless, and the only thing I could think to do was squeeze my eyes shut and cling to Alastor, praying that these men would save me somehow.
Alastor, at least, no longer acted like he wanted to shove me away from him. One of his arms remained locked around my waist, holding me in place, but the other wrapped protectively around my shoulders, drawing me in as if to shield me with his body.
I could feel the car turning and veering from one side to the other, the squeal of the tires occasionally punctuated by Octavian’s curses, but Alastor’s arms held me close, his cedar-and-citrus scent wrapping around me like a promise.
If they can pop up anywhere, why even bother running? I thought. They’ll find us wherever we go. And I would be dead, one way or another.
The fear I’d experienced the night before when my skin was burning had been overwhelming and terrible—I’d felt like I was drowning. But this was different—this fear made me numb and cold.
And then, much sooner than I was expecting, the car stopped.
By the time I lifted my head, Octavian and Radven had already jumped out. Alastor practically threw me into Octavian’s arms.
The big, blue-eyed brother didn’t throw me over his shoulder as Alastor had. Instead, he scooped me up in his arms like a baby and began running.
We were at their home. As Octavian darted up the front steps, I twisted my head and looked down their driveway, expecting to see dozens of shadowy Tendrils flailing in our wake, but there was nothing. The entire estate was perfectly still—I don’t even think a blade of grass moved.
Somehow, that unnatural stillness was even more terrifying.
The brothers ran as if death was on our heels. They didn’t even bother closing the doors of their fancy sports car, instead leaving the vehicle flung open like some mechanical, cherry-red butterfly.
Radven still had his knife out, and Alastor pulled one of his own out his belt. The pair of them furiously scanned our surroundings as they darted up the stairs behind us. Clearly, the threat was still very real.
When we got inside, I noticed that the familiar shiver had returned, and that it was strongest in the places where Octavian’s skin touched mine. It wasn’t painful yet—and certainly not as distracting as the throbbing, burning pain coming from the welt by my elbow—but it was getting stronger.
“You can put me down,” I said, tugging on Octavian’s shirt.
He glanced down at me without breaking his stride. “I’m faster.”
I didn’t argue that point. And he seemed to know where he was going, so I just clung to him and tried to enjoy the ride in his muscled arms—at least as much as I could enjoy anything when I was potentially moments away from death.
And when the shiver in my skin served as a reminder of how much more pain might come.
I turned my head, pressing my cheek into his chest. His natural scent wasn’t as strong as his brother’s, but it was distinct—like musk and amber, natural and warm.
It was the sort of scent that would have lulled me into sweet dreams under different circumstances.
But there was something deeper there, too—a sharper scent that reminded me of the wilderness.
And of blood.
I jerked my head up, startled. But either Octavian chose to ignore my reaction or he was too preoccupied to notice it, because he didn’t even glance down at me, didn’t even break his stride.
For the first time since meeting him, I realized that there might be another side to Octavian, one that wasn’t all charm and protectiveness.
He carried me down into their secret lair, and only when he reached the bottom of the steps did he finally set me on my feet. Radven and Alastor were just behind us.
“We don’t have much time, Marigold.” My name sounded luscious in Octavian’s deep rumble, but there was no time to appreciate it.
I twisted around, still expecting the Tendrils to pop out again at any moment. “Time for what?”
When I turned back to Octavian, he was holding that strange, starfish-like artifact I’d noticed on display the last time I was here. It looked much smaller in his huge hand.
“This is from our world,” he said. “It’s a powerful relic there. Here, it is mostly useless. But you should be able to feel its essence.”
Tentatively, I reached toward him. Right when I was about to touch it, though, he abruptly drew back.
“This may cause you pain,” he said. “Just like last night. You understand that, don’t you?” His eyes bored into mine, concern swirling in their depths. “You still have a choice, Marigold. You always have a choice.”
“Except the other option is death,” Radven cut in.
“The curse knows who you are. The Tendrils won’t stop now, not unless you break the curse completely.
Even if you walk away, they will find you.
” Somehow, when I wasn’t looking, he’d grabbed three sheathed swords—probably from a hidden compartment somewhere in this lair—and he handed one to each of his brothers.
“She still has a choice,” Octavian insisted, holding the artifact in one hand and his sword in the other. “We will not take that from her.”
I had no way of confirming if what Radven said was true, but it sounded terrifyingly plausible.
“I’ll do it,” I told Octavian. “Give the relic to me.”
He still hesitated, but his desire for me to break the curse—or perhaps to avoid death—won out. He extended the strange object to me once more, and I reached out and grabbed it before I could change my mind.
He was right—the moment I touched it, the shivery sensation that had been building under my skin intensified, becoming instantly, acutely uncomfortable—though not quite painful yet.
“W-what…” Even my voice sounded shaky. “What does this do?”
“Nothing, here,” Octavian said, securing his sword to his belt. “Except cause a reaction in you. And that’s what we need. That’s what allows you to become the bridge.”
That was about as clear as mud.
“Last night,” he went on, “when you were screaming and writhing in pain in front of our house, I felt something. The veil between our worlds was thinner. I could feel Therador for the first time since we were banished here. You were doing that. You were opening the door between our worlds.”
“I don’t remember that at all,” I protested. How was I supposed to do it again if I had no memory of it?
“You don’t have to remember.” That was Alastor, who’d been very quiet until now.
“If our theory is correct, and you are truly of both worlds, you just have to open yourself up to the essence of Therador. Your body will respond, but it’s that very response that creates the bridge—both your world and ours, linked through you. ”
“In other words, you’re going to have to experience quite a bit more pain.” Radven didn’t sound especially troubled by that. “The worse it gets, the closer you are to sending us home.”
That was clear, at least.
I didn’t want to endure that pain again. Once was more than enough. But as Radven had been so kind to point out, the other option was death. And who knew how long we had until those Tendrils showed up again and finished the job?
“Okay,” I said. “Tell me exactly what to do.”