Chapter 70 #2
He’d laughed. “You’ll see. You’re going to destroy the world on the back of good intentions. Enjoy your time as a nine. It won’t last long.”
I hadn’t seen him again—until now.
I knew what he was. He was a mine.
Like he’d said, he was me . . . or he was what I’d become.
“What are you doing here?” Finn had asked. If this weren’t a dream, then that meant Finn knew this mine. How?
The mine—I didn’t know his name—had shiny, milky-gray skin and a grotesquely wide mouth. His arms were too long, like a leggerock’s, and his skin hung off him like clothes two sizes too big. He was bald like a leggerock too, but his eyes were humanlike instead of the flat gray of Jagger’s.
He didn’t look at Finn or Luvic—he only watched me, taking a slow breath through his nostrils. They fanned wide, like a toad’s quivering at sunset.
“I’m always here,” he said, still staring.
The weight of his gaze pressed on my abdomen, churning my stomach, making me nauseous.
His probing was igniting venomous sparks in my blood, causing it to foam and hiss.
Jagger’s blood had never felt so strong here, as if it were being awakened by the nearness of this mine.
I couldn’t hold back the small whimper that tripped from my throat.
At the pained sound, Luvic snarled and stepped forward.
The mine shifted in his wooden seat, blinking at Luvic.
“You . . .” His mouth pulled down. “What’s that?
A bit of Bard? A bit of hell?” Luvic’s hackles rose at the mine’s scraping laugh.
“Very good. Very good try. But no. You are nothing.” He flicked his hand at Luvic like he was flicking a spray of water.
Before Finn or I could move, Luvic collapsed. His giant form hit the concrete floor. He yelped and convulsed once. Then he disappeared.
I stepped forward, reaching for weapons I didn’t have. Finn touched my arm, and I stopped at the gentle warning. He shook his head.
The mine smiled, leaning against the wooden back of his chair like a creature without bones.
“What is it you want?” Finn asked. His form was tense, but his voice was steady, the menacing aggression gone.
I looked around the room. The walls were concrete-gray. The floors were concrete-gray. The ceiling was lined with long fluorescent tubes. The door we’d walked in through had disappeared. We were trapped.
I tapped Finn’s arm and nodded to the back wall. One eyebrow rose in acknowledgment.
“I want to give you your freedom,” the mine said, smiling at our awareness of the doorless, windowless room. “Did you think you were here to fight?”
“It seemed likely.” Finn held his hands loose at his sides, ready.
The mine scoffed. “No. That battle is done. Look.”
He gestured to the far wall. An image was projected on the concrete.
It was Earth—all the oceans, all the continents, all the mountains, all the fields, all the nations, and all the people.
The projection flew over the decimated, war-torn world and showed the sun rising over New York.
Finn and I stood together, holding hands, on top of the Smith Fortress.
“Look,” the mine said. “You’re free. And when you’re free, you’ll rule the world. The two of you. Together. Everything you want will be yours. Every desire will be fulfilled. Every wish satisfied. You’ll be free at last. Free to create the world you want. All you have to do . . .”
I stared at the image of Finn and me holding hands, wondering what I found so odd about my features.
Then I realized what it was. I looked peaceful.
Placid. Free of worry, stress, fear. I’d never seen myself with that expression.
It didn’t look real. Worse, there wasn’t any love in my gaze.
It was the uncaring immutability of stone.
How could I look that way when the world the mine had shown us was scarred and torn? How could I look placid and uncaring if I was holding Finn’s hand, free to love?
Finn shook his head. “Those things aren’t yours to give.”
“Aren’t they?”
Finn closed his moss-green eye and stared at the mine through his solange-soaked one. After a moment, his mouth tightened, and he made a small, surprised noise. “I see. What is it we’d have to do?” He reached over and gripped my hand. His hold was tight.
“You, my dear Smith, would pledge yourself to me. Just a little blood. Just a tiny oath. And then, you both would be free.” He flicked his long, milk-gray fingers at the projection. “Think of it. You would rule the world.”
Finn ignored the image and instead focused on the mine. His hand tightened, squeezing my fingers. “If I pledge to you, she’ll be free? You swear it? This will break the leggerock’s hold?”
I went to protest, but Finn’s grip tightened so much I winced. At my indrawn breath, his hand loosened, and he traced a slow circle on the palm of my hand.
“I don’t want to rule the world,” I said.
The mine gave me a startled glance. It was the first time I’d ever spoken to him.
“And it isn’t freedom if you’re exchanging one set of shackles for another. Whatever this is,” I said to Finn, “don’t.”
The mine stood, gliding toward Finn, his sagging skin filling the gray lines of his clothing. He pulled a knife free. It was obsidian, like Jagger’s, only larger.
“Smith. She’s nearly free. You can see it. Close your eye and view it. Just one last thread to be clipped.” He held the knife out to Finn, the dagger’s point glistening in the cold fluorescence.
There wasn’t any wind, but the mine’s clothing still rustled, dragging out musty, mold-damp odors that made my nausea rise.
Finn stared at the knife as if he couldn’t decide whether it was our savior or our executioner.
“She’ll be free?” Finn asked, his thumb circling my palm, tracing a figure eight. “She’ll no longer be a mine? You swear?”
“I don’t swear. You’ll have to take my word for it. You’ve already given four years of your life for the tickets.”
I glanced at Finn, frowning at the stiffening of his shoulders.
“Now the trip is done. You’ve arrived at your destination. Do what you came for. Free her.”
Finn’s eyelashes tilted down, covering his moss-colored green and his starry, solange-blue eyes.
“Mari—” he whispered, halting his circling caress.
The intimate way he said my name reminded me of how he’d said it right before he took Jagger’s bargain.
As if my name were every good thing in the world wrapped in two syllables.
It was biting into a cold plum on a hot day.
It was the rumble of thunder after a long drought.
It was a kiss that felt like the first and the last.
He’d said “Mari” just like that before he’d taken Jagger’s bargain.
But that bargain had ended in both of our deaths.
Finn knew it as well as I did. This bargain seemed even worse. The only guarantee was that Finn would be trapped under the mine. Still, he’d do anything for me. And it wasn’t a question of if I’d let him; it was a question of if I could stop him.
The corner of his mouth turned up. He smiled at me. He’d decided.
He reached for the knife.
Before the blade could prick his skin, I yanked at the thousands of knots tied around him. I sank the entire flood of power flowing inside me into pulling the threads loose.
Finn dragged in a shocked, pained breath, his gaze flying to mine.
There was one knot at the center of him holding everything together.
The mine lunged forward, the knife aimed at Finn’s palm. I yanked the knot free, and Finn’s illusion collapsed. It fell like a parachute robbed of all the air beneath it, caving in on itself. Finn stood there for a moment, his eyes wide, a round stone disk flickering in his right hand.
Then he was swallowed by a flash of white light.
The mine twisted, grabbing my arm as the light sped toward me. His icy grip hurt as he hissed, “It’s in your blood but not in your spirit.”
Then the mine was speared by the white light. He was thrown back, and I was catapulted out of the concrete room, back into Cora’s apartment. I slammed to the floor, my head hitting the wood.
I opened my eyes to find Luvic crouching above me, his eyes glowing orange in the morning sunlight.
“Morning,” he growled. Then, when I gasped and struggled to sit upright, he pushed me back and whispered in my ear, “Easy. We’ve got a guest.”
There was a light, tinkling laugh—the sound of dry-bone tree branches and wind chimes blowing in the breeze. Luvic stiffened, and then Winnie’s heart-shaped face appeared over his shoulder. She smiled, her wide, dark eyes full of laughter.
“Morning, Mari. I made coffee. Want some?”
I blinked, wondering how long she’d been here and how long Luvic had been awake. The apartment smelled bitter and dark, tinged with coffee and tears.
Luvic shook his head imperceptibly. He, like most other men in the world, was terrified of Winnie.
There was something about the winter bareness, the last frozen, hang-noose gasp of her voice, that unnerved them.
Or perhaps it was her fresh-faced, pixie-like looks mixed with the pervasive aura of mournful tears and last requests.
No man enjoyed looking into the face of death.
“No, thank you.” I pushed myself up on an elbow even though Luvic remained crouched protectively over me. Then I asked, “Did Jagger send you?”
Winnie wrinkled her nose. “Jagger? No. I’m looking for Justice. Have you seen him?”