Chapter 63
Electra
The only set of eyes that remain dry during Ines’s funeral is Gael’s. Tarian’s ultimate punishment is forcing him to bear witness to the outcome of his cruelty.
Flies swirl around father and son, drawn to Alexander’s rot. The soft buzzing competes with the electric chorus of the cicadas and Dorian’s quiet hiccupping. Even though Diego has an arm wrapped around my brother, I tuck Dorian’s hand in mine and hold on.
“She was my best friend,” he rasps in between sobs. “I just lost my best friend.”
It’s heartbreaking to watch such a strong man crack.
Suddenly, he pivots, his hand jerking from mine, and then he’s jogging away. With a sigh, Diego goes after him.
I look at Gael, a scream stuck in my throat: See what you’ve done?
Before I can march over to him, Mom closes in on me and nods toward the upturned mound of soil. “Tuck her in.”
I sweep gritty soil over the pine box using my magic. As the others do the same, I scan the land, not for my brother but for the two Hunters. I find Malachi doing the same.
Here I thought he’d be more overwhelmed than Dorian by Ines’s passing after the year they spent together, but he seems more concentrated on the humans he flew over. Admittedly, after last summer, Malachi has learned to keep his emotions folded behind carefully constructed walls.
“They’re wandering the northern cliffs,” Mom tells me.
How does she always guess what’s on my mind?
“Before you head out there, Tarian wants a word with you.” She pats my hand before going to Dad, who’s appointed himself Gael’s jailor.
“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” I mutter, even though I absolutely was planning on hoofing it in Reeve and Quinn’s direction.
It’s pure torture knowing they’re treading my homeland, and I have to keep my distance.
“You wanted a word, Tarian?” I ask, as I approach him and Calanthe.
Calanthe’s hazel eyes pierce the shadows cast by the wide brim of her floppy hat.
“Nice hat.” I flick the straw brim.
“Why, thank you. Your mom gave it to me to keep me from turning into a giant freckle.”
I snort-laugh, but then press my mouth tight because it’s an odd sound to make at a funeral.
“I wanted to run something past you,” Tarian says. “Walk with us.”
I fall into step beside them, my parents trailing behind, floating Gael’s cage.
“I’d like to dump Monta inside the mine and let Gaea deal with him. Do you have any objections?”
I glance in the direction of the cliffs. I can’t help it.
“I know Monta killed Reeve’s parents, but allowing the Hunter to take the fate of an Atlantean would set a complicated precedent.”
“I understand.” Pale sand puffs around my sneakers. “But can he be there to witness it? It would give him closure.”
“If he witnesses what Gaea does to Gael”—the sound of Malachi’s voice drifts toward us as he ambles nearer, hands pressed into the pockets of his slacks—“he’ll never dare act against the mine.”
“Why do you sound so certain he’s going to betray us?” I bite out, no longer resigned and nervous. No, now I’m well and truly annoyed.
“Why are you rushing to forgive the bastard?” Malachi counters.
“I’m not rushing to forgive him. If I were, do you honestly think I’d have agreed to let him wander around?” I stream out a sharp exhale. “Tarian can interrogate them. There’s no way they’re still under the influence—”
“Their mothers had transfusions of our blood during their pregnancies, which made their offspring immune to Atlantean compulsion.” Malachi’s jaw sits at a rigid angle.
“What?” My gasp silences the cicadas.
“Did your little boyfriend fail to tell you this?”
When Reeve had told me that compulsion didn’t work on him, I hadn’t realized he meant from birth.
“Mal, come on…be nice.” Calanthe chides him.
His mouth pinches, but only for a second. “Tarian tried to interrogate Quinn earlier, but even his magic didn’t work on her. The only one who can squeeze the truth out of them is Gaea.”
“Why do I have the feeling that if they don’t jump into the mine,” I mutter, “you plan on pushing them in?”
“If their hearts are in the right place, Gaea will float them up,” he says.
“Holy shit!” I blink at him. “You are planning to send them down to her.”
“I trust Gaea,” Malachi says. “Don’t you?”
A sharp heat flares behind my lids as I glare at him, then at the silent others. First at Tarian and Calanthe, then at my parents. The resignation etched across their faces causes the fire to spread from my eyes to the whole of me.
“What was the point in bringing him back from the dead, then?” I cry out. “Why not just tell me it was impossible, Tarian?”
When his eyes lift to a spot beyond me, I twirl to find that Reeve is no longer up north. He stands beside a shrub, alone.
“Where’s your tiny sidekick?” Malachi asks, tracing the circle of limestones with his eyes.
“Eating. We ran into Diego, who mentioned where to find refreshments.”
“You preferred to spy rather than eat?” Malachi asks.
“That’s uncalled for,” I hiss.
“Is it? He didn’t exactly whistle to announce his presence.”
“When did you become so cynical?” My cheeks tremble as I fight to keep my face from betraying my heart.
“He’s not cynical; he’s cautious,” Reeve says, stepping closer to us, which puts him closer to the mine.
My gaze drops to his hands. I hate that it does. I hate that I’m looking for a grenade or a gun—Gaea only knows how he’d have procured himself one.
When I look back at his face, grief shades his features. A beat of tense silence echoes against the sunburnt limestone before he says, “I’d do it again, you know.”
“What would you do again?” My voice is thready with the emotion I’m desperately trying to suppress.
He gives me a heartbreaking smile. “Come into your life by any means possible.”
Someone sniffles behind me. “What?” I hear Calanthe hiss. “That was really sweet.” Under her breath, she huffs, “And my emotions are heightened because of your babies.”
I’m not pregnant, yet my emotions are all over the place.
“I hope…” Reeve stares down into the mine like it’s calling to him. Like he’s suddenly developed vertigo.
“Reeve?” The runes on my neck begin to burn like they’ve caught fire.
He glances back up at me, licks his lips, then looks back down.
“Don’t you dare!” I whip my palms to blow him away from the mine’s entrance just as the ground shudders.
My knees buckle, and I pitch forward.
So does Reeve.
Except he doesn’t smash into the ground as I do. No, he tumbles right into the mine. I scream his name as I scramble to my feet. I’m again brought down by a tremor.
I twist around and snarl, “Tarian, stop!”
A deep furrow grooves his brow. “I’m not doing anything, Elle.”
“Well, someone fucking is.” The instant I get my feet under me, the earth moves, sending me hurtling down. I growl, “I swear to Gaea—”
“Elle, I think it is Gaea who’s keeping you down,” Calanthe whispers softly. “The ground under us isn’t moving.”
I suck in a startled breath, blinking down at the gritty soil beneath my palms and knees. Though it hums, it doesn’t shake. I inch my fingers forward. When it stays still, I edge my knee.
I succeed at crawling forward a full foot before a tremor rolls through the earth, tossing so much sand into my startled face that I cough out what feels like a lungful.
Once my hacking subsides, I sit back on my heels. All is once again still.
“You’re really not doing this, Tarian?” My throat burns so hard that my voice is a mere squeak.
“I swear, I’m not.”
I swallow. Why is Gaea keeping me away from Reeve? What is she doing to him?
I rest my hands on my knees and squeeze the bones as I look toward the dark mouth that swallowed Reeve whole.
My lips shape a silent plea: I forgive him. Please forgive him too.