And really, it took so little to make him happy, as he’d pointed out a hundred times. What did it cost me to go to Los Angeles for a while, for the winter? Nothing. But look how much joy it brought him. My life would be so much easier now. In fact, my life was so immeasurably better when Incy was happy that it was almost as good as being happy myself.
On the outside I let myself be jollied into a better mood, listened to him chatter on the six-hour flight, and dutifully stretched in the sun when we landed at LAX.
The air smelled like smog and jet fuel. As far as I could see, the land was covered with buildings and roads and lights, stretching on into the desert, crawling up the mountains like beetles, swallowing the land with a concrete mouth. I liked cities, always preferred cities, except in Moorea. But this city seemed too sprawling, too… uncontained for me.
Our hotel had a pool that was a joke compared to the South Pacific. The scent of coconut oil and cigarette smoke clung to my skin. Most days I napped on a lounger, waking up to order frothy drinks with fruit speared on plastic swords. The pineapples had no taste.
One night we went to a party, given an invite by a friend of a friend. We’d gone shopping for some proper clothes, and I was in a white Halston with a halter top. I’d tied a pale silk scarf around my neck and fastened the halter strap on top of it. My skin was naturally burnished and tan; my hair was long and I’d dyed it dark blond—my natural color shone through as highlights. When I saw myself in the mirror, I saw a beautiful, striking woman with eyes as black and cold as outer space. Incy hadn’t been so happy in ten years.
As gorgeous as I was, I blended into the woodwork at this party. More stunning women than I’d ever seen in my life were there, all of them taller than me. A couple of immortals were there—Incy’s friend Lee and some of the models. Innocencio was in his element, people magnetically drawn to him, his charisma almost as palpable as his beauty. He left with someone or a couple of someones, and I fended off bloated egos and crushing insecurity for another hour before I felt like surely death would be better than this.
The next day I cut off my long blond hair in the hotel bathroom with a pair of sewing-kit scissors. Every time I saw it, it reminded me of Moorea, where I’d been at least within spitting distance of peace. So what if I’d been running away from the world? So what if I never had to challenge myself? So what if I wasn’t learning or growing or bettering myself? So what if I never talked to anyone from our crowd again?
The long golden chunks had fallen to the bathroom floor, leaving me with a ragged, choppy do above my shoulders. When Incy saw it, he hit the ceiling—he liked it when I was beautiful because it made him look even more beautiful. Horrified, he’d made phone calls until he located a stylist to the stars who could see me this minute.
The exclusive, snobby stylist did nothing but tsk during the salvage operation, sending Incy sympathetic glances, like maybe he thought I was some strung-out starlet who’d finally snapped.
When he was done, I looked in the mirror, and—I didn’t know what I was looking at. Didn’t know what I was doing, why I was there, what in the world I would do with myself.
I remembered that I didn’t have to know. Incy knew. He would take care of all that.
The hollowed-out person in the mirror gazed back at me with dull eyes. “Dye it black,” she said.
These days River’s Edge seemed chock-full of tension with a heaping side of grim. Okay, we’d had a lot happen: the windows blowing out, the seemingly useless spell of protection (ugh), the burned circle around the house, the dead chickens, the destroyed garden. And yes, the box with Incy. Each time I remembered that, which was many, many times a day, I was jolted again by shock and horror.
Plus quite a few of us were having bad dreams, disturbing visions during meditation, good ol’ fashioned feelings of dread and uncertainty.
Reyn and I were still having sword lessons. During which I sometimes “forgot” how to hold my épée, so that he had to touch me, moving my hands into position. Because, yes, I am exactly that pathetic.
One night in late March, after dinner, River asked us all to stay for a meeting.
“My friends,” she said, her face solemn and lined by worry, “as you know, as we’ve seen, something’s happening in the world of immortals. It’s quite widespread and feels unquestionably evil. I feel certain that it will touch our lives here, and probably soon.”
“Have there been more attacks?” Charles asked, the candlelight on the table deepening his bright red hair and diminishing the freckles on his cheeks.
“Things are happening almost every day,” Asher said. He, too, looked weary and concerned. “We’ve heard from many friends and colleagues around the world. At first it was mostly immortals from the remaining major houses who were being targeted. Now it seems the attacks have broadened.”
“An immortal learning center in Africa, a place much like this one, has disappeared,” Ottavio said in his deep voice. “Disappeared. Thirteen people lived there; they’re gone, and there’s no clue what happened to them.”
Brynne and I looked at each other, equally somber. When I reflexively searched Reyn’s face, he was still, his gaze focused off into the distance.
“We’ve been approached, obviously,” River went on. “The incidents here have been sad and destructive but not deadly—at least not yet, not for us.” Just for chickens and plants. “We four teachers and my brothers are all certain that it’s only a matter of time before a much darker and stronger force tries to wrest away our power.”
“But we don’t know who is this darker and stronger force?” Lorenz asked, his Italian accent sharpening. “We have no ideas?”
River shook her head. “It could be one incredibly dark person with a sweeping agenda of death and ruin, or it could be a family or a group—something as unfocused as some Teräväs seeking to kill as many Tähti immortals as they can.”
“We’ve scried many times,” Anne said. Her dark, shiny hair curved perfectly under her jawbone and brushed her collar in back. “But the images we’ve received have made no sense—like gibberish.”
“Our scrying could be affected by whoever’s behind all this, anyway,” said Asher.
“None of this seems aimed at one particular person or family?” Solis didn’t look at me. Way to be subtle.
River shook her head firmly. “There are few major families or learning centers that have been untouched. Some have been only threatened, like us. Others have been utterly destroyed, their members killed.”
“I can’t believe this person hasn’t left clues!” Jess said, his voice gravelly. “We should go to some of these places and hunt until we find something that will lead us to the bastard!”
“That would be one approach,” said Daniel. “It does sound better than sitting here with ‘victim’ spray-painted on the house.”
“That’s an option,” River said calmly. “But no matter what course of action we take, one fact remains clear: We must prepare for the worst. I believe we’re facing a battle. I don’t think any of us has ever faced anything like this in our lives.”
Since her life began in 718, she pretty much meant that no one had ever heard of anything like this.
“We’ve talked, and we’d like to urge any of you, anyone who wishes to stay out of this, to leave River’s Edge.”
My eyebrows rose, and there was shifting and looks of surprise around the table.
“You can leave now, tonight,” River continued. “I know of some places that I’m sure would still be safe—hidden places that are well cloaked. Any of you are welcome to head for them and stay in safety until this is all resolved somehow.”
“None of us want to leave!” Brynne said. Obviously she hadn’t seen the look of hope on Charles’s face. Or, for that matter, on Solis’s or Rachel’s. Who could blame them? Anyone in their right mind would want to be out of this.
River gave Brynne a gentle look. “Each of us must decide for herself. Or himself.”
“If ther
e’s going to be a battle, then there will be a battle.” Daisuke hadn’t spoken before now, and Joshua and Reyn both turned to listen to him. Daisuke had been a samurai once; had they recognized it? “We should prepare for the worst.” There was no fear on Daisuke’s face, but no excitement, either—only a calm certainty.
“Should we… go to Genoa?” I barely recognized my voice as my own. “Should at least some of us go to protect your house, your family’s birthplace?”
A tiny smile softened River’s face for a moment. “No, my dear. Everything that is important to me is right here.”
Okay, got it—the four brothers. But what about books or jewelry or magical tools? Maybe fabulous tapestries? Wouldn’t they be worth saving? I would give a lot to have even one book, one thing that had belonged to my parents. Was their family’s legacy so protected?
Slowly River looked from face to face, crowded as we were around the long table. Candlelight had shadowed cheeks, made eyes look brighter and more intent. “I urge all of you, please—if you want to leave now, there will be no feelings except love and good wishes.”
For the first time Joshua spoke: “Look, don’t stay if you’re going to be a liability. If you’re not committed, body and soul, if you’re not able to hold your own in a fight, physically or magickally, do us all a favor and leave.”
“Joshua,” River said, distressed.
“He’s right.” It seemed to gall Reyn to have to admit that. “Someone who isn’t willing or able to fight, who doesn’t want to save his life by any means necessary, is nothing but a chink in our armor.”
River looked like she wanted to refute that but couldn’t.
“I admire the self-knowledge that tells a person he or she is more useful somewhere else,” Daisuke said more tactfully. “This situation is not for everyone. If a battle comes to us, it will be very bad, as battles always are. There is no shame in not wanting to be a soldier.”
Well, since he put it that way…
“You don’t have to decide this minute,” River said more briskly. She stood up and started gathering plates to take them to the kitchen. “I’ll be in my office for the next hour. Please come see me, if you want to go to a safe haven, with my love.” Taking the plates, she pushed through the kitchen door with one shoulder. Three of us made stacks and brought them to the kitchen. River gave me a strained smile, then left.
“Kitchen duty seems of lesser import, after talk of battle,” Daisuke said, trying to lighten the mood.
Anne tied an apron around her waist. “Kitchen duty is never of lesser import.” She snapped a towel at him, and he grinned and reached for another apron. I headed upstairs to my room to think.
CHAPTER 24
At breakfast the next day, we discovered that Charles, Lorenz, and Rachel had left. Despite her look of hope last night, I was surprised about Rachel at first. She was so strong, so advanced in her studies, and I knew she loved River and River’s Edge dearly. But maybe she believed that she would be a weakness in a fight, and she left so as not to be a liability, as Joshua had said.
And yet, after that tense meeting, after the departure of three of us, nothing happened during the next week. I didn’t go to town, though the project was finishing up and I was dying to see it. I told Bill that I had the flu, and that he was in charge but to not go crazy with my charge accounts.
Here at home we were all on edge, looking around warily as we walked from house to barn to field. The vegetable beds that we’d replanted showed their first, tentative shoots of pale green; the horses and dogs all seemed calm. Dúfa and one other puppy were the only ones left; Asher planned to keep the other one, a perfect, classic specimen of a German pointer, whom he had named Henrik. The remaining chickens were fine and annoying as ever. The one I had defeathered was now covered with spindly, unimpressive tufts that Anne thought would develop into real feathers. So that was good.
But no matter where we were or what we were doing, we kept a sharp eye on everything around us. We listened to the birds in the woods for any cries of alarm. We watched the horses and especially the dogs for signs of nervousness or aggression. Each night before bed, River, Ottavio, and Asher walked around the house, checking it for dark marks or evidence of unknown magick. We were paired up and assigned watches.
Every day, the weight of what I had done to River’s spell got heavier, and the more certain I became that I myself was the biggest and perhaps only chink in their armor.
Six months ago, four months ago, two months ago, the answer would have seemed clear: Fly out of there as fast as possible. Go somewhere else, where I wouldn’t have to think about it, could convince myself it had never happened. But I knew what I had to do. It totally sucked. And I’d put it off as long as I could. If I didn’t admit it now, I might cause everyone here to die. But no pressure.
River was in one of the classrooms. She and Anne had spread an array of crystals out on the worktable, from tiny, gemlike ones to chunks as big as my fist.
“Hello, my dear.” River’s smile was strained.
“Hi. Um… as usual, I need to talk to you.” I mumbled the words, dreading the conversation that would take place. I knew I’d be forgiven, but my inescapable family darkness, the darkness that had ruined her spell of protection, would probably dictate that I should go take a holiday somewhere hidden. Which I didn’t want to do. But would if she asked me to. Even though I would hate it.
River hesitated a moment, and I said quickly, “You look busy. I’ll come back later.”
I’d already turned to flee when her gentle hand on my shoulder stopped me.
“Let’s go to my room,” she said.
We didn’t talk on our way back to the main house. We went through the kitchen door, through the dining room, and up the main staircase like we had hundreds of times before. As we passed my door I was overcome with longing to leap inside, shut the door, and curl up on my bed. It was hard to force my feet to keep going, to turn right and follow River to the end.
I’d never been in River’s room, though of course I knew where it was. At her doorway she brushed her fingers down the doorframe, whispering. A door-lock spell.
Inside, her room was not much bigger than mine, and just as simple except instead of a narrow single bed she and Asher had a double-size four-poster bed made of black wood. It stood so high that I’d have to climb up and jump down, if it were mine. Immediately I pictured Reyn sprawled across the white down comforter, looking at me with glittering eyes, and I shivered.
“Shall I ask for tea? I should have thought of that before we came upstairs.”
“No, I’m good,” I said. Some days I felt I would float away on tea.
There were two scaled-down armchairs, old-fashioned and tufted, the kind you’d see in England in the 1890s, set before a window. A small, round Shaker table stood between them, and River’s knitting basket was beneath it. “Let’s sit here,” she said, gesturing to the chairs.
I sat. Now that I was there, my stomach hurt. Nervously I retucked my scarf deeper into my dark turtleneck sweater.
Patiently River waited, obviously wanting me to start.
Maybe I should just say something like I’m worried about the remaining chickens, and maybe we should move them into the barn, and maybe someone—“I ruined your spell of protection.”
River straightened and looked at me more alertly. “The big spell?”
“Yeah. The big spell.” My throat was so tight, I couldn’t swallow.
“Why do you say that?”
“I didn’t mean to.” Possibly the lamest words in any language. Je n’ai pas l’intention. Ich habe nicht zu bedeuten. Ik was niet mijn bedoeling. Io non volevo. “I didn’t mean to. But we were all there, and you said that each of us would get a signal—feel a push—about when to join.”
“Yes?”
My voice was barely audible. “I never got a signal.” Okay, it was out. It had been an anvil on my chest for weeks. Now it was out.
“What do you mean?”
/> Did I have to spell it out? What part of “I ruined your spell” did she not understand? “Everyone got a signal,” I said. “Everyone joined, one at a time, as the spell went on. I was there, and I wanted to be in it, but I never got my signal.”
“Then why did you join the spell?” River sat back in her chair, and panic flared in my gut. She would forgive me. But would she still like me? Care about me? Because, finally, I believed that she did. She did sincerely care about me. But here I was, disappointing her in a huge, important way. Like I always did.
I swallowed, wishing I had asked for tea. “I couldn’t stand not being part of it,” I muttered. “Everyone had joined. The spell was huge and complex and masterfully designed, like architecture, like a skeleton. I waited and waited for the push so I could join in. But I never got one. Because of who I am. What I am. I hated that. I didn’t want to be that me—I wanted to be the me that was part of it.” Out loud, this sounded even more selfish and uncaring than it had in my head. I fixed my eyes on a tiny split in a floorboard—it was like I’d forgotten how to look bored, how to sound casual about important things. Crap. “Anyway. I wanted to be part of that beautiful, amazing spell. I couldn’t be the one left out. So I just stepped in.”
“And then what?”
“At first my voice didn’t blend as smoothly as the others. But I closed my eyes and sang, seeing it all come together in my head. And soon my voice seemed like all the others—part of it, seamless. It was like art.”
River nodded without smiling. “Did you think the spell was perfect?”
I started to say yes, then I thought back. “No,” I said slowly, and River’s gaze sharpened. “I mean—the form was perfect. The design. The layers, the limitations, the powers invoked. That was all… the most perfect thing I could ever imagine. But there was something wrong.”