Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
brEXLEY
Metal squeaked from the rusting Ferris wheel, the carriages rattling against the chilly breeze. The pounding of hammers, voices, and the roars of hungry tigers nipped at my ears, pulling my focus.
I heaved out in frustration, opening my eyes.
A few dimly lit streetlamps cast more shadows on the old Ferris wheel rotting in the background of the overgrown National Revival Park in Ternopil.
The Ferris wheel was more like a headstone marking the life which used to exist here, groaning and howling like a ghost of its former self.
It was our last night in Ternopil before we moved on.
The carnies were tearing down the tents not far from us, making this place deserted again.
For two nights, lights, music, laughter, and awed guests had filled this section of the park, escaping into the enchanted world where they could forget their suffering.
Those years they had suffered under Ivanenko’s tightfisted reign while he lived in luxury.
“You aren’t even trying.” Esmeralda’s scratchy voice huffed with irritation, jerking my head to her.
She was wrapped in a heavy robe and her bunny slippers, sitting back on a bench, chugging from the flask she was holding, a fae-marijuana joint burning in the other.
“You are wasting my time. My energy. Plus, I’m freezing my tits off out here. Try again!”
Shifting on my knees, the cold cement bleeding into the fabric of my pants, I closed my lids, trying to push away the defensive wall that wanted to protect everyone from what I could do.
A trickle of sweat glided down my back, challenging the ice-cold temperatures biting at my exposed skin.
The sun had long ago fallen behind the trees, the carnival patrons back in their homes fast asleep.
Fae were naturally nocturnal, but I learned quickly the carny life was even more so.
This was when they came alive, thriving in the shadows and the seedy illusions that could trick the eye and mind.
“Concentrate, girl,” Esmeralda snapped.
Exhaling, I tried to open myself up, blocking out everything, but all I heard was the hammering and commotion of the carnies in the distance. Grinding down on my teeth, I dug deeper, shoving all the commotion away, drilling my thoughts on my magic, unearthing that fire deep inside.
The noises in my head pounded harder. My skin prickled.
I could feel death everywhere in this place.
Pain, starvation, suffering over the generations.
This land held a lot of history. A lot of suffering.
Ghosts lingered on the edges, waiting for me, and if I opened up a little, they would devour me.
A strangled cry came from my throat, my head tipping back in frustration. “It’s not working.”
“No shit.” Esmeralda puffed out a long billow of smoke, her head turning to the side.
“Yes, yes, I know!” Esmeralda barked, batting her hand at the air.
“Back off, old man. You are grating on my nerves too.” She took a swig of ?uic?, a plum brandy that was probably homemade.
“My grandchildren are annoying enough assholes, and on top of that, I have to deal with your lot.” She shook her head, unhooking her ankles, making the ears on her pink bunny slippers spring around.
“And they wonder why I drink and smoke.” She sucked on her roll, puffing it out.
“The Druid says you’re the one blocking yourself.
” She stood, shuffling over to me. “The only thing you are fighting is you.
The Druid.
Tad.
At first when she said he was with her, I thought she was crazy.
But it wasn’t long before it became clear.
Esmeralda was the real deal. Her mother was a seer who could see fae auras back before the wall fell and they were still in hiding.
Her father was from a druid line, watered down enough that she didn’t inherit most of the druid qualities, but enough that she could still sense them. Interact with that level of magic.
I still couldn’t believe it, that night by the river, telling me Tad was there.
“What are you talking about?” I shot back defensively, thinking she was either full of shit or I had been discovered. My sins finding me, my truth of who I was made known.
“The Druid. He’s here. Yammering in my ear until I couldn’t take it anymore.” She moved her fingers by her ear like a mouth. “Won’t shut up about helping you . . . training you to control your magic . . . and keeps mentioning something about nectar?”
“What?” I stepped back, my insides turning to lava as my skin iced.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting to that. Back off!
” Esmeralda waved her hand at the air in annoyance.
“He says he sees things, that you are clearer to him. That he sees the connections between you and the nectar. It’s dangerous.
Deadly. Very adamant about you learning to control your own magic. Never to use this nectar again.”
“What? Why?” Hackles raised, I held the box to my chest, defending it if anyone tried to take it. “It’s my magic too. It’s part of me.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You might be connected through circumstances, but that magic was never yours. Not meant for anyone. That kind of power will only destroy. You must learn to be without it. To find your own power.” Her head tilted at the nectar, her brows furrowing.
“What the hell is that, anyway? Looks like something my cat barfed up—”
“Hey? Girl.” Esmeralda snapped her fingers in my face, bringing me back to the present, peering up at her. “I’m perfectly fine going back to my wagon where it’s warm, where I have a chocolate biscuit and weed, and leaving your ass to do this on your own.”
“I’m trying.”
“No, you’re not. You’re not letting yourself. Stop being so stubborn, girl” She tapped my head.
“How am I fighting myself?” I tossed out my arms. We had been working for hours, yielding nothing.
“Your fear,” she replied. “You are scared of what you are . . . what you can do.”
My stomach tightened, the arrow of her words hitting its target. It was instinct to protect yourself from danger, from hurt, and my mind slammed shut the moment I felt any barrier going down, any chance my power might slip out.
“I can’t help it.” I rolled my frozen fingers into my lap, exhaustion riding over my shoulders.
I wasn’t sleeping well. Besides the guilt, shame, and fear I held, there was an anxiety I couldn’t place.
Or I could, but I didn’t want to say it out loud.
The need for him ached so badly I almost couldn’t bear it; the desire to call out for him pounded in my heart with every beat. The craving was worse than any drug.
At the time, I felt I was a coward for running away. I couldn’t face my actions. Now I looked at it differently. I had to leave. It was something I felt in my soul, something I needed to figure out on my own. Warwick would never have let me go.
“What do I do?” I scrubbed my temple, my head thumping. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my hand around the nectar and use its strength to lift mine. The need didn’t go away. It was something I had to work through. “Please . . . I don’t know how to do this.”
Esmeralda’s eyes suddenly glossed over, her gaze far off though she looked right at me, her demeanor changing as she cleared her throat.
“In death, I see you much clearer, my dear. I can feel your fear holding you back.” Esmeralda’s tone and speech pattern went softer and slower. She was no longer there. “Sorrow and grief bind you—they’re choking you. But if you don’t learn to control it, there will only be more.”
A sharp gasp of air burned down my throat, tears building behind my lids. Even though Esmeralda stood in front of me, my senses were picking up another, knowing who had taken over.
“Tad?” I croaked.
A soft smile curved her mouth, head dipping.
“Tad . . .” My eyes filled up with tears. “I-I can’t do this.”
“You can, and you must. You are strong, Brexley. You have been through more than anyone I have ever met at such a young age. That girl I saw in the Games . . . she never gave up. She fought.”
“And killed.” I hoarsely replied, trying to keep back my emotions.
“I. Killed. You.” A tear fell down my cheek, the heartache and grief so raw, I was afraid to let it out, knowing I might buckle under it.
I couldn’t think about the lives I took, the anger at Istvan for what he had done, for murdering my father and taking everything from me.
The hate and guilt mixed and gurgled inside me like a volcano, and if I let go . . .
“No.” He reached out, touching my face. I no longer saw or heard Esmeralda; it was Tad I felt, his voice I heard. “You didn’t fight to kill. You fought to survive. For life.” He patted my cheek. “And you freed me from the twisted confines of my body. A cage I had been locked in for too long.”
“How can you forgive me? Look what I did. What I was about to do . . . to Simon. I killed hundreds of people, and I didn’t even care. I just wanted to destroy Istvan.”
“That’s why you must learn your powers and control them,” Tad replied.
“There is no escaping yourself, child. You must face it. Head on, like I know you can. I’m not saying it will be easy, and I’m not saying I don’t also fear what you are, but you have no choice.
I see that now. You are strong enough to do this.
You have to. The war is still coming, and it is much more than any of you thought.
And the nectar is the most dangerous thing of all.
It cannot be used. It is too much. Power like that, magic from the Otherworld .
. . just like the treasures became, the nectar should not be used in this world that it is no longer meant for. You understand?”
I nodded, my lips trembling, wishing so badly I could bring him back, to take away what I did that night. Have the real man here with me.