Soulkeeper Page 39

  “You know it not, but I called for truce,” the queen owl continued. “I wished to know of your people. I wished to see what you became while free of us, as your Goddesses always wished. I have seen. I have learned. I am unimpressed.”

  “Stay back!” Tommy shouted. “Creare parvos fulgur!”

  “No, wait!” Devin cried, but he was already too late. The ball of flame shot from Tommy’s fingers toward the enormous owl. Its wings folded before it like a shield, protecting the rest of the body from the ensuing blast. Smoke rose to the sky, and within its cloud emerged the perfectly still form of the owl. The wings’ feathers should have easily withered against such tremendous heat. Instead not a single one bore sign of ash or char. They unfolded, and Devin had but a fraction of a second to fire before the owl dove from the side of the building.

  The flamestone roared, a pale comparison to the thunderous shriek that accompanied the owl’s dive. His shot missed wide, as Devin had badly underestimated the creature’s speed. An enormous beak closed about Tommy’s waist before he finished the first syllable of another spell. A simple turn of the head lifted his friend off the cobbles, and another turn flung him right back down with a painful crack. A single clawed foot slammed down atop him, pinning him, crushing him.

  “Londheim was ours before it was ever yours,” the owl said. The calmness to its voice only heightened its deadliness. “We shall not leave. If neither do you, then let us hunt one another. We shall see whose tongue tastes blood first.”

  Its wings cast a tremendous curtain across the street. Wind blasted across him from the mighty beats of those wings. The claws relented. A terrible shriek split the night as the owl tore into the sky and flew east. Devin watched until he was certain it would not circle about and then hurried to Tommy’s side. His friend had pushed himself up to a sitting position, and though he looked bruised and shaken up, Devin could find no serious injuries.

  “Devin?”

  “Yeah, Tommy?”

  “I have regrets.”

  Devin stared at the fleeting darkness that was the queen owl.

  “Go on home,” he said. “I’m not sure there’s much we can do out here anyway.”

  Relief flashed across Tommy’s face, immediately followed by guilt.

  “Are you sure you’ll be all right without me?” he asked. “What if you run into Janus?”

  Devin offered Tommy a hand, then gestured to the fog bathing the street once he was on his feet.

  “We might pass one another and never notice. Do you know the way back to the Wise tower?”

  “Know it? Yes. Want to walk it alone? Um. Not really.”

  Devin slammed his pistol back into its holster.

  “Come on,” he said. “I’ll make sure neither of us becomes owl food on our way.”

  Devin’s exhaustion bordered on crippling by the time he reached his house, and it wasn’t the physical kind. He inserted his key and turned it only to discover the door already unlocked. That wasn’t right. He’d locked it upon leaving…

  He crept the door open while keeping one hand on his sword in case someone had been foolish enough to break into his house. No burglar awaited him, just Jacaranda sitting on the couch facing a low-burning fire. Devin closed the door and removed his sword and gun belt. The sound of metal and leather was unbearably loud in the heavy silence.

  “Trouble sleeping?” Devin asked. Jacaranda hadn’t even budged at his arrival.

  “Something like that.”

  The hurt in her voice was as easily detectable as the fireplace in the dark. A chill had crept into the air, so Devin tossed another log into the fire from a tall stack beside it. A grateful Puffy emerged to wave in thanks before returning to the embers. Devin settled into the chair by the fire, guessing that Jacaranda would prefer a bit of space. Her outfit reminded him of when she’d first joined him on the road to Oakenwall. She’d removed her scarf, and she held it in her hands, softly rubbing it with her thumbs.

  Devin said nothing as he rocked in his chair. If she wished to talk, then she’d talk. Until then, he’d relax while watching the fire burn.

  “How do you do it?”

  He glanced her way. Her cheeks were wet with tears. Something had clearly happened that night, but what, he could only guess.

  “Do what?” he asked.

  “Go on,” she said. “Trying. Breathing. Living. When everything looks like shit and your heart doesn’t want to do anything but hurt.” She sniffled. “I can’t even sleep. That doesn’t make sense. How can I be too tired to sleep? Am I that badly broken?”

  Still not revealing why she was upset. Did it involve the chains on her neck? Her memories of servitude? He didn’t know, so he answered as best he could.

  “Everyone reaches low points in their lives,” he said. “It’s like you’ve fallen into a pit, and it’s cold, dark, and lonely. Sure, you could climb out, but you’ve a sense of how much strength it will take to make that climb. Sometimes it’s so much easier to lie down, close your eyes, and tell yourself, ‘Tomorrow, I’ll make that climb tomorrow.’”

  “That’s one way to describe this… paralysis,” Jacaranda said. “Have you fallen into such a pit before?”

  “I have.”

  “When?”

  Devin’s tired mind slipped back into the past. Like many things in his life, it all came down to one single, awful moment.

  “After my wife’s death. I didn’t handle it very well. At all, really. I insisted to anyone who’d listen to me that I was done as a Soulkeeper. I blamed myself. I blamed those who attended her in her final hours. I blamed the Goddesses for their cruelty. Brittany was also a Soulkeeper, and a far better one than I, yet all our work was rewarded with her death and my suffering?”

  Devin had mostly made peace with her passage over the years, but reliving the memory scratched and dug at the deep scar. He shook his head and forced his mind out of the old rut lest it stay there.

  “By the end of the week I’d stopped eating and all but imprisoned myself in my own home. I couldn’t make myself care. Every piece of my life linked to memories of Brittany, her laugh, her smile, her flaws and jokes, all of it. My grief felt inescapable. I’ve been trained on what to say to others who lost loved ones. I know the prayers of comfort to offer when I light a funeral pyre. None of that helped. I didn’t want the Goddesses’ consolation. I wanted to scream and rip down the stars and demand they face my rage. I wanted them to feel my pain. Such hubris, but grief warps the mind, and it does not play fair.”

  Devin fell silent. He needed a moment to let the ancient feelings disseminate back into the cobwebbed corners of his mind. Embarrassment kept him from admitting that he had stood atop his roof and screamed at the stars, daring the Sisters to prove they were paying attention.

  “How did you pull yourself out?” Jacaranda asked.

  “Adria saved me,” he said. “As she often does. Every morning she came in, sat down at the table, and asked me how I was doing. Was I eating? Was I sleeping? If I was hungry, she brought me bread and honey. If I needed to talk, she listened. I… I shouted some awful stuff at her, Jacaranda. I didn’t want to feel better, but she dragged me out of that pit kicking and screaming.”

  There was one morning in particular that had finally snapped him out of his downward spiral. He remembered the hurt on his sister’s face, the barely concealed exhaustion and desperation.

  “I didn’t realize the toll it was taking on her,” he continued. “This one morning I asked her why she bothered. Why was she so insistent I pull myself out? She said because Tommy was even worse, and she didn’t think she could reach him. That was when I finally saw how tired she was. In what spare time she had after her Mindkeeper duties she was splitting her attention between Tommy and me, trying to hold us together, and here I was, wallowing in my grief. I hadn’t even seen Tommy once since Brittany died.”

  Devin rubbed his hand across his eyes and face. There were no tears there, but they were close, like a distant thunderstorm.r />
  “So that afternoon I grabbed two bottles of cherrysilver wine, walked to his home, and announced we were going to drain those bottles dry while we reminisced on how awesome Brittany was.” He couldn’t help but laugh. “Not exactly the advice a Soulkeeper should be giving others, but hey, sometimes you must use what works.”

  He rocked back and forth in the chair, remembering that night. It’d been the first time he’d accepted Brittany’s death as a part of his life instead of some cosmic disruption ending all semblance of order. He’d allowed himself to smile at her memories and joke with Tommy about how crazy she could get while fighting with her giant, custom-built axe. So easy to tell others to cherish your memories together instead of dwelling on the loss. So hard to do once lost in the tempest of grief.

  Jacaranda shifted atop the couch and clasped her hands, her face locked in deep thought. Devin couldn’t begin to imagine what it was like to process these emotions for the first time. Brittany’s death had wrecked him, and he’d had a lifetime of experiencing love, happiness, anger, and loss. But what did Jacaranda struggle with? What personal monster clawed at her insides?

  “So the way to endure the pain and hurt,” Jacaranda said, as if she’d solved a mathematical problem. “It’s through others?”

  “Most often, yes,” Devin said. “This world is much too hard and cruel to endure alone. From the first day the Sisters gave us life, we were meant to love and support one another. Sadly that basic tenet of our existence is also the hardest to keep.”

  Jacaranda nodded slightly. He noticed her violet eyes constantly flicking in his direction. She shifted her weight again. Was… was she nervous?

  “Jac, is something—”

  “Will you—” she interrupted, then blushed. He gestured for her to continue. “Will you sit beside me?”

  Devin smiled. “Of course.”

  He moved from his chair to the couch, leaving a small space between them. Jacaranda quickly erased that space and rested her head atop his shoulder and her body against his arm.

  “I want to thank you,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “For being… good. If I’d awakened earlier, or a few days later, it wouldn’t have been you who helped me. It wouldn’t have been someone kind. And it makes me realize just how lucky I was for you to… to find me.”

  Devin swallowed down a blob of guilt bubbling up his throat.

  “I’m not so good, Jacaranda. Have you forgotten the grave I made you dig? The lack of sleep and your cut fingers?”

  She closed her eyes and turned her face further downward.

  “I remember a lifetime of people treating me differently for being soulless. What they said. What they did. Compared to all that… it’s easy to forgive you, Devin. It’s so easy, because without you, if… if I’m without you, I’m alone, and I don’t want to be alone. I’m a damn freak with a curse on my neck and I cannot go through this alone anymore. I can’t. I just can’t.”

  By the Goddesses, she was so strong. Even as she confessed her brokenness he saw the incredible strength holding herself together.

  “I will always be here for you if you need me,” he said. “Take a single step my way and I shall run all the rest. Put your trust in me and I will move the entire world to prove I’m worthy of that trust. Truth be told, it’s the least I could do.”

  She did not answer with words, but by the visible relaxation of her body against his. Silence settled back over the dark room, but the tension had been punctured and drained. Devin listened to the crackling of the fire and Jacaranda’s slow, steady breathing.

  “I think I can sleep now,” she said softly. “Is this all right?”

  “Of course it is.”

  Jacaranda stretched her legs out across the couch and slid lower so that her head leaned against Devin’s thigh. He rested his hand upon her shoulder, and she squeezed his fingers once to let him know her appreciation. It was not long before her breathing turned shallow. Devin watched her sleep, troubled by the blood he saw on her boots and the faint spray of it staining her shirt.

  Time rolled along, the night approaching its end. Devin shifted so his lower back was more comfortable, and he shivered a bit. He had no blanket, and he had not the heart to risk waking Jacaranda getting one. The fire was lower than it should be, given… hold on. Puffy’s two little coal eyes were watching him quietly, as if waiting for him to notice. Devin raised an eyebrow in its direction, and Puffy stepped its whole body free of the fire to stand at the edge of the fireplace. It waved through the air, slowly spelling out letter after letter.

  SAD?

  Devin smiled at the firekin’s concern.

  “We all need to be sad sometimes,” he whispered softly. “But I think she’ll be fine.”

  Puffy thought a moment before spelling again.

  SLEEP?

  “I hope to. It’s been a long night.”

  Puffy thrust its hands onto its hips with clear purpose and nodded. It dove back into the fire and swirled around the edges. The light of it steadily dimmed, yet at the same time, the heat coming off it dramatically increased. Warm waves washed over Devin’s skin, and he relaxed his muscles and sank into the couch. The heat, combined with the increased darkness, pulled his eyelids closed.

  “Thanks, little one,” he said. The siren call of sleep beckoned, and he was happy to accept. “Better than any blanket.”

  The fire flared once in appreciation and then settled into a nice, steady rhythm of cracks and pops. The warmth and noise easily soothed away the bittersweet memories of Brittany’s carefree smile hidden behind a mask of snow atop an unlit pyre.

  CHAPTER 36

  Tesmarie shifted and rolled restlessly atop the rough fabric above the hatmaker’s stall. It wasn’t the sudden drop in temperature that bothered her, for her onyx skin gave little care for the cold. It was the lack of sunlight. Dreary clouds sealed away the sun, and given the angry chill in the wind, she wouldn’t be surprised if it started to snow later.

  “Where did everybody go?” she grumbled. Only yesterday the market had teemed with life. Now the number of bodies cluttering the rows had dropped significantly, and they lacked the same level of joy and mirth. One brief respite, and everyone was back to fearing rumors and eyeing the living mountain as if it might strike at any moment. Tesmarie dangled her head over the side and looked at the upside-down Nora currently running the stall. The woman had wrapped a heavy quilt around her shoulders and covered her braids with a thick but pretty scarf.

  “Today’s a quiet day,” Tesmarie said.

  “People spent more than they had yesterday,” Nora responded. “Today they’re tightening purses and realizing that just because some boats arrived, things aren’t returning to how they were.”

  “So today will be dreary and boring?”

  A hint of smile tugged at Nora’s chapped lips.

  “If it will make you feel better, Faithkeeper Nolan is giving his ninth-day sermon at the mummer’s stage not far from here.”

  “Ninth-day sermon?”

  “Informal prayers every three days, a full gathering of prayers and lecture on the ninth. Something to do with the church and their obsession with triangles. There’s usually a hundred or so gathered there, so when it’s over they’ll spill out across the market. I’m sure you’ll get your daily allotment of fruit and cheese then.”

  Tesmarie rocked her head, enjoying the way her upside-down hair swished from side to side.

  “I don’t come here just for the food, you know.”

  “You could have fooled me.”

  Tesmarie pulled herself up. Well then. What was a faery to do? It sounded like she’d have to wait for the ninth-day sermon to end, however long that would be. She yawned and stretched her arms. Perhaps a nap would do well to pass the time. She’d not slept well last night, especially after listening to Devin and Jacaranda’s intimate conversation. The two had sounded so tired and broken. Tesmarie had spent the whole time pretending to sleep while hoping t
hey’d finally kiss and hug and be happy.

  “Why does this world have to be so hard?” she wondered. She tucked her hands behind her head, folded up her wings, and lay on her back. “Someone messed up, that’s it. It certainly wasn’t meant to be this way. I wonder who?”

  Was it the dragons? The Sisters? Or maybe something else entirely? After all, it hadn’t been the demigods and goddesses who had banished Tesmarie from her village, nor had they slain the alabaster fae of her new home…

  “No, no, no-no-no,” she said. “No more crying. I am done crying.”

  She crossed her arms and huffed again. Sniffled. Maybe wiped a single diamond tear away. The blanket of clouds lazily rolled along the sky, and she watched them with steadily growing boredom. Boredom was good. Boredom rarely led to her crying. Her eyes slipped closed more often than open. The sounds of the market lulled her frantic mind. Yes, a nap would suit her just fine.

  Something thick and heavy fell across her. Tesmarie cried out in shock and confusion. She turned, looped, and jostled into a frantic cartwheel. Her wings twisted, one bending at an awkward enough angle that she shrieked. The ground approached, but it was weird, hazy, and then her descent halted suddenly with a painful smack to her forehead. Not ground. Glass. The floor was covered with it. Her weight shifted, and suddenly she was sliding to the side. Another glass wall stopped her. She only barely folded her wings in time to avoid a second painful bend. Her head struck the glass, spilling stars across her vision.

  “What… what’s happening?” she asked. Her voice came out drunken and distorted. Tesmarie shook her head and forced herself to react. Something was wrong. Her life was in danger. She spread her wings and flew her approximation of straight up… only now there was a giant piece of cork blocking the way. She hit it shoulder first and failed to make the slightest indent. Tesmarie fluttered back to the glass floor, horror steadily dawning on her. She knew where she was, what she was in. What else could it be?