Chapter 32
PRESENT DAY
She was afraid. Like piss her pants terrified.
Speaking of…
Abbie raised her hand schoolroom style.
“Um, can I go to the bathroom first? I’m not going to lie, I’m pretty positive I can’t handle anything like that without soiling myself.”
Beside her, Trevor choked, and Ronan didn’t bother to hide his laughter. Damian compressed his mouth and dropped his head, as if barely able to hold back. Hell, even Isis looked five seconds away from losing it.
“For you, we are only applying a simple spell to remove your deeper emotions,” the Aether finally said. “You’re already next-level powerful, and there’s no need to infuse more.”
Her knees went weak with relief.
The birds scattered to the winds, disappearing as if they hadn’t nearly pecked Royal to death.
She halted in front of him, sickened by the blood and intending to heal him as Wilder had taught her. But as she reached out, the wounds sealed in bursts of light, like hundreds of paparazzi camera flashes at a red-carpet event.
Royal raised his head and met her horrified stare.
“I’m fine, Fire Cat.” He stood and held out his arms, rotating his palms up and down as he shook his head. Awe filled his face. “Hell, better than fine. My body is more alive than… yeah, I don’t know when. God, it’s incredible, this feeling.”
“Indescribable,” she replied with a matching smile. She hardly remembered her first infusion during the tumble from the mountain. In her terror, there had been no chance to appreciate the surge.
“Does this new improved me come with an instruction manual?” he asked Damian.
Stepping forward, the Aether traced another sigil on his forehead.
“Donum scientiae tibi est, Royal Hastings,” he said.
“Yes, the gift of knowledge,” Royal murmured trancelike.
“Okay, then.” Abbie stepped forward. “I’m ready.”
“I need a lock of your hair,” Damian said.
Turning her back to him, she allowed him to select what he needed.
“Don’t leave a bald spot, or we’re going to have an issue,” she warned. His chuckle rolled through her, warming her in ways she hadn’t felt in a very long while. “That voice is potent.”
“Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry in the least. “I have what I need.”
When she faced him, he was twirling his own hair around his finger. Before her eyes, it lengthened, matching hers. Damian made a snipping gesture with his hand, and the lock fell away, as if cut.
“You’re a complete badass.”
His lips twitched as he wove their hair together, then fused the braid until it was impossible to tell her white-blond from his black.
“Through these locks, bind her emotions to me,
So Abbie feels naught, and the Devourer can’t feed.”
He ran his palm along the length, encasing the blended hair into a platinum metal band. A second later, he slipped it on his wrist.
“That’s cool and all, but what about the others? Royal and my battery-pack cousin?” she asked.
“Royal’s new abilities allow detachment during trying times. The ravens will take over when he is in hunter mode.” He smiled at Ronan. “And our Guardian friend here is well practiced at keeping emotions in check. He’ll not fail you.”
“When does this new transference take—oh!” She blinked as it registered she wasn’t worried about her new mission at all. “Cool. Do we lure him down or head up?”
“That’s your call, my dear. I cannot advise you after this.”
“Why not?” Her instant annoyance was swept away, and his shiny new bracelet flared brightly, illuminating the reddening skin beneath it. Abbie froze. “Did my anger just burn you?”
“It’s nothing I cannot handle, but if you could keep it in check, I wouldn’t be ungrateful.”
“Got it. No strong emotions. Now, can you tell me why you’re unable to advise me?” she asked.
“Rarely do I reveal the future. It could influence an outcome.”
Ronan stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Sure, and there’s the feckin’ Fates to consider. They don’t love it when our man interferes with their plans.”
“But Isis gave me this.” She touched her new pendant. “They don’t have a say in my life anymore.”
“Not in yours,” Isis said softly, coming to stand beside her.
“Implying they still do in everyone else’s,” Abbie concluded. “Got it. All right. Let’s fire up our bodies’ heat, boys. We’re heading up to the peak.”
“I’ve been, so I’ll teleport at the same time as you, but at a safe distance. Preferably behind the evil jackass,” Royal said. He grinned and tapped his temple. “Thanks to my new owner’s manual, I can teleport like a big boy.”
Her new cousin grinned as if it were all a gas. “Sure, and you’re a grand fit with the Sentinels, ya are. You’re as cheeky as Castor and Blane.”
“Will the ravens make it as high as the peak?” she asked. “I’ve seen them while climbing, but I can’t recall them at the summit.”
“Yes,” Isis replied. “These will survive wherever the Protector lives. They are bonded.”
“So all that’s left is for Draven to alter the spell.”
A few yards away, the Guardian was reworking his charm, but the pressing sense she was running out of time was upon her. Abbie thanked the others and drew her two cohorts toward a section of dirt path.
“Royal, in precisely three minutes, I’ll have Morcunt’s back turned away from the western outcrop of rocks.
” With a stick, she sketched a layout and pointed upward.
“There. You sneak up and clamp the bracelet around his wrist, then I’ll signal Draven through our link to have Ronan join us.
As soon as I can channel his power, I’ll send the dickweed back. ”
She returned to Damian, who was deep in conversation with the Goddess, but they stopped when she approached.
“Do you have Quentin’s number? Can you have him here as soon as I’m done?”
He nodded.
“And if one of the other three outcomes happens, tell him I’m sorry we never got to meet. Tell him…” Her throat tightened, then eased as the band on Damian’s arm flared. “Oh, hell! I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, Abbie. What else did you want me to tell him?”
“Tell him, thank you for giving me whatever time I had in Perdition Ridge with Wilder. I’m grateful he allowed us to reconnect, however brief.”
“I’ll tell him if it comes to that,” he assured her.
“Okay. Here goes nothing.”
Closing her eyes, she visualized the place in the snow where Royal had been. Using her third eye, she reached for the area, finding it empty. She then scanned the area where Morcant had been hiding from the elements.
Nothing.
“Something’s wrong. Either he’s not up there, or I’m doing this whole feeler thing wrong.”
Damian held up a hand and closed his eyes. His expression was grim when he dropped his arm.
“No, you’re right. He’s gone.”
“Where could he go?” she asked. “He doesn’t—oh! I know. Perdition Ridge.”
“It no longer exists.” His mouth turned down as he frowned. “It’s a ghost town.”
“But that’s better for us. Less innocent bystander fallout.
” Abbie’s excitement bubbled up, and she was happy to feel something for longer than ten seconds.
“Can we all interconnect minds like we did with Jonas and Wilder? If each of us can check a different location while linked, we’ll narrow it down immediately, right? ”
“Brilliant idea,” Trev said.
“This is where I leave you to your human coils,” Isis told them. “I’ve been gone too long from my world. Blessings upon you, my Beloved children.”
They lowered their heads in respect, looking up only when the flash of light signaled her exit.
Abbie rallied the others. “Let’s get this show on the road, fellas. Then later, maybe someone could tell me how the hell the portal kicked me out in an entirely different state.”
THE CANYON - 1877
Wilder waited until Draven created the giant C—signaling those back home of their plight—before diving into the treachery of the Fates and what they’d done to them.
He provided the details of Draven and Céleste’s story and how the Fates were using Abbie to provoke the Guardian’s sense of chivalry, a subconscious manipulation of his long-buried memories. As he laid it out, he hated the taste of the words. Hated how easily they’d all been played.
“I’m sorry, Masters,” he said.
“I don’t know how to feel,” Draven confessed. “Furieux, oui. But only at their manipulation. This woman, I cannot remember her.”
Wilder wasn’t sure if he pitied him or envied him for forgetting. By including Abbie in their games, they’d fucked up his life, too. And the endless memories of their perfect relationship had left him embittered and raw.
“His mother is a Sister of Fate?” Castor asked. His expression was as dumbfounded as Wilder initially felt upon learning of it. “Did I hear that correctly?”
“Yes,” the Aether said with a slow nod. “Their games make sense in their convoluted way.”
“What are you going to do, Masters?” Wilder asked, silently waiting for the Guardian’s explosion.
“I do not know. I will have to give this consideration.” His lips twisted humorlessly. “Perhaps I will leave it to the roll of the dice.”
Wilder glanced at the others to grasp their thoughts, but both men were keeping their cards close to their chests. He never wanted to play poker with any of them.
Against his back, the rock shifted. “Shit!”
“The portal is open!” Castor shouted over the sudden whoosh-whooshing wind. Its fierce energy clawed at their clothes. “Stand back!”
“Think it’s our ride home?” Wilder called back.
Was Abbie about to step through, or had Quentin created a way for them to return?
Grim determination seized him. “I’m going in.”
“No, son. It may not be safe.” Castor inserted himself between Wilder and the opening. “You’ve been granted gifts and can survive here if the need arises. But traveling is what I was created for, so let me test it first.”
“How the hell do I get back?”
Castor gestured to Wilder’s shirt pocket. “Still have my spell?”
The spell! In all the madness, he’d forgotten. He patted the pocket, sighing his relief when he encountered the vial. How Bart missed it, he’d never know.
“I do.”
“If I’m not back for you in a few hours, use it,” Castor ordered, and with a questioning look for Damian, he asked, “You see any reason why I shouldn’t go in there, Dethridge?”
“No, but don’t delay.”
“Be kind to the pickpockets,” Castor advised with a warm smile and a hearty handshake. “And don’t let this one get into any trouble between now and when he returns.”
Next, he offered Draven his hand. “My advice? Find the Duval girl. If they are trying to keep you away from her, it’s for a nefarious reason. Don’t let them.”
“Go in peace, Traveler.”
To Jonas, Castor said, “Thank you for your kindness to my daughter. Please extend my gratitude to the others, including Shadow.”
“Of course.”
Finally, he approached Wilder and hauled him into his embrace. “Thanks for loving my daughter, son. If Abbie returns, my spell will bring you both home. Should I find her on the other side, I promise I’ll be back for you.”
“Hurry. We both know how unstable that thing can be.”
They shook hands, but nothing more needed to be said. Castor pivoted and ran full speed into the swirling blue opening. The portal to Goddess-only-knew-where closed behind him with a snap.
“And then there was one,” Wilder murmured. “The non-Traveler lost in time.”
“Not lost,” Damian said. “You have family here, Thorne.”
A crackling zipped through his brain an instant before the buzzing began, sounding remarkably like a Hamm radio.
“Wilder?”
His knees went weak.
“Abbie? Where are you?” Wilder called out, both aloud and through their link.
The others grew still.
“The Hastings’ hideout, where the cabin once was.”