Chapter Twenty-Four #2
I reached for Owen’s hand, only to realize he still stood just inside the office.
“A question for you, Dr. Calder.” Owen’s barely civil tone had me quickly returning to his side.
“As someone with a doctorate in archaeology, you must have found quite a few treasures. Probably made a name for yourself over the years, too.”
A note of pride entered Todd’s voice. “I have. In fact, I’ve spent most of my academic career discovering rare artifacts.”
“It must take a while to find such valuables.”
Todd barked out a laugh. “You have no idea how long it can take to unearth a treasure. I’ve spent years chasing that one, singular gem.
The one that stands out from all the rest. I couldn’t begin to explain it to someone like you, who knows nothing about academia or travelling the world or higher education.
” Todd’s tone dripped with condescension, and I wanted to smack the smug look off his face.
But Owen’s smile was wide and triumphant.
“Funny,” he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and drawing me into his side.
“I would have thought that a well-educated fellow like you would recognize a rare treasure when he saw one. Especially when he already had it. It takes someone pretty stupid to lose a treasure as rare as Kira.”
Todd’s eyes bulged, and my heart completely melted.
“Didn’t take me years to find her, either. I knew she was precious the moment I laid eyes on her, and I’ll risk everything to protect her. Every day. So go ahead. Use that degree to dig for relics in the dirt. I’ll be holding on to the gem you let slip through your fingers.”
Owen slammed the office door, and I had to rush to keep up with his long, angry strides.
“What was that?!” I asked, pinballing between shock, exhilaration, and outright laughter as we exited the building and Owen opened his umbrella against the pouring rain. I was sick of this weather. What I wouldn’t give for some sunshine.
He shrugged. “I felt like winging it.”
I scooted in front of him and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him toward me for a long, hard kiss. Water streamed over the edges of the umbrella, cascading around us like a shimmering curtain.
“Owen Grant, you are the true treasure here. Don’t ever forget that,” I whispered when we finally pulled apart. Emotion made my voice catch, but the smile he gave me was all the sunshine I needed.
“You, too, Kira. Don’t ever forget your worth.”
“How could I, when I have someone as incredible as you reminding me?”
“What exactly happened in May?” Owen asked as we wandered arm in arm along the path. I laughed, remembering the expression on Todd’s face.
“He and a friend—I couldn’t tell who—got drunk and acted out some pagan ritual in full paint and costumes. Quite something to see, I’ll admit. I followed him because I thought he was cheating on me. Turned out he was, just not that night. I took pictures but didn’t bother to stick around.”
“Idiot,” Owen grumbled, and I had to agree.
“So, after all that, what does the page say?” Owen asked a while later, setting a latte and a muffin in front of me. He had taken me to a nearby café, and at nearly three in the afternoon, the space was mostly quiet.
I frowned at the page before me. I had read it several times already, and dread coiled in my stomach, threatening to spill into outright panic. Seeing myself described like this was horrifying. My eyes fell to the words once more.
In elder days, when trees could speak,
And roots did whisper, buried deep,
She was not made of leaf nor sun,
But forged where blood and battle run.
By wrath she wakes, by grief she grows,
Let ash be rain, let fire show.
Let roots now writhe as serpents wild,
For she is light and good reviled.
But still she walks, in cloak of coal,
With hate as deep as death is whole.
To cross her path is doom indeed,
For wrath, not love, her sacred creed.
She barters not for mortal gain,
But seeks release from ancient bane.
To one who dares to set her free,
She offers all unendingly.
I thrust the page at Owen. He read it, his brow furrowing more deeply with each passing second. When he looked up, I pretended to be engrossed in my muffin, even though I could barely swallow a bite. Two lines in particular made me want to throw up:
For she is light and good reviled.
For wrath, not love, her sacred creed.
What kind of a monster was I? The darkness in my chest stirred, slow and hungry, curling like smoke through my veins. I closed my eyes as I fought it back.
On the Root Path, I had briefly accepted my identity as a dark Druid.
My powers had helped me save my friends, and I had been willing to give into it.
But I still hated it. Feared it. It was unnatural, and with each passing day, I could feel it sinking into my bones and sinew as it remade me.
But if it was a part of me, did that mean I hated myself? Yet how could I ever fully accept it?
Images of my nightmare flashed before me.
Black roots writhing over my skin. That hideous creature—me— skittering across the table.
Craos calling to me. What if I couldn’t control my magic?
What if it burst out of me and killed everyone in this café?
Killed Owen? I had vowed to myself that no one would harm him, but what if it was me who harmed him—
“Stop.”
Owen’s low, furious command made me open my eyes. He was watching me closely, his coffee half raised to his lips.
“What?”
“You’re spiralling. You look like you’re ready to bolt. Stop it. We’ll figure this out. Together.”
I let out a shaky breath.
“Kira—” He reached across the table to take my hand. “—stay with me.”
I nodded and squeezed his hand in reassurance, even though all I wanted to do was run away.
He studied me a moment longer, then turned the page so we could read it together.
“Why would Sylvia and Todd want this page?” I wondered out loud. “And what is this last passage about a bargain? Does it mean that if the darkness within me is set free, I can offer them something?”
“I don’t know,” Owen murmured. He was still holding my hand.
We spent the next hour poring over the words and brainstorming ideas, but in the end all we had were more questions. A tight knot of anxiety had taken root in my stomach, and it refused to unravel no matter what Owen said.
When we walked to the car, his grip on my hand was tight and desperate.