Immortal Beloved

  “Oh!” There was a cry and a crash, and my eyes popped open. My stone felt so heavy that my hand dropped to the ground, the moonstone hot in my palm.

  I looked around and saw Nell, her eyes wide, her mouth open in an O. The silver bowl and the candle had both been knocked over. Salt spilled across the floor, mingling with the thin river of wax that flowed from the doused candle on its side.

  “What happened?” Anne was concerned, looking at each of us.

  “My stone!” Nell opened her hand, and I blinked as I saw the small pile of powder, white and blue. It had been crushed, pulverized. But surely sodalite was stronger than that?

  “What happened?” Anne asked again.

  Nell turned suddenly blazing eyes on me. “You did it! You crushed my stone! I heard your song—it was evil! It was a black cloud, filling the room! You’re evil! Dark!”

  Two months ago I would have been able to shrug off an accusation like that, or even laugh about it. It would have been meaningless. Now, though…

  “No, no I’m not,” I stammered. Inside, a small thought whispered, You hope. “I’m not,” I said more strongly. “I wasn’t doing anything with my song—just trying to bind my stone to me.” I looked down at my hand, held down by my stone. For an instant, it felt like it weighed about ten pounds, this little rock—but suddenly it lightened, and I picked my hand up easily. In my palm, my beautiful moonstone glowed, its shiller flashing.

  Anne looked nonplussed. Without saying anything, she stood and dismantled the circle. She picked up the candle and the silver bowl and set them on the shelf.

  Finally she turned to where we stood around, unsure of what to do. “How do you feel?” she asked Rachel.

  “Fine,” she said, shrugging in bewilderment. “I felt like I bound my stone to me.”

  She turned to Charles. “You?”

  “I feel fine, too,” said Charles. “I definitely felt powerful magick, but I don’t think it was Nastasya—and it didn’t feel dark to me.”

  Next Anne looked up at Reyn, who was about a head and a half taller.

  “I felt powerful magick,” Reyn said slowly, not looking at me. “It felt old. Strong. I also bound my stone to me.” He held out his bloodstone and looked at it appraisingly.

  Had my song been bad? Had that been all me? Was I hopelessly dark, evil? I thought of Boz and Incy and almost winced. My cheeks burned as fear raced through my brain.

  Then I remembered that River had welcomed me here. She had said that I could learn to be—not dark. She’d said it was a choice. That I could learn to be Tähti. My chin raised.

  “She crushed my stone!” Nell said, almost spitting. She held out her hand, the powdered evidence undeniable.

  “Why would I do that?” I asked. “I have my own stone!”

  “That’s not what you wan—” Nell began hotly, then stopped, biting her lip.

  Charles and Rachel were now staring at the two of us as if this were a sordid soap opera. And of course, in a way, it was.

  “Reyn, Charles, and Rachel,” said Anne mildly, “you may go. It’s getting late.”

  They went out as fast as they could, Reyn glancing back over his shoulder.

  I crossed my arms over my chest, holding my moonstone tightly.

  Then Anne was looking at me and Nell, her hands clasped in front of her.

  “Is there something here that I should know about?”

  Yeah—Nell’s a complete bitch.

  Nell looked as if she wanted to spill her guts, and with a morbid fascination I kind of hoped she would. But with visible effort she tamped her emotions down and arranged her livid face into a more neutral, but concerned, expression. “No—except—I haven’t wanted to mention this, but I keep getting the feeling that Nastasya is jealous of me.” She gave a charming, humble smile. “And—I thought I felt dark magick. I’m worried—her magick is unschooled, unpredictable. And really, what do we know about her? My stone got crushed inside my hand. I didn’t do it—it was something dark. Didn’t you feel it?” She gave an exaggerated shudder, actually looking around as if Death might be waiting in a corner. Because that’s the kind of thing I would do—conjure Death, just to mess with someone. Sheesh.

  Anne looked at her, then over at me.

  “Did you crush Nell’s stone?” she asked me.

  I gaped. “No! The magick I felt—it came to me, through me. I didn’t take it from an outside source, like her stone. Why would I want to? All I was doing was calling on my power, trying to bind my stone to me.”

  Anne nodded. “All right. Nell, leave the powder here.” She held out a small cloth and Nell dumped the crushed stone into it. “You may go. Nastasya, I’d like you to stay for a moment, please.”

  Oh, come on, I thought. Nell gave a secretive smirk that only I could see, and I clamped my lips shut, incredibly pissed. As she hurried out the door, I realized her face was reflected in an old-fashioned candleholder on the wall. It was backed by a highly polished piece of metal, to double the reflected light. The metal acted as a mirror, and in the mirror I could see Anne watching Nell. So she had seen Nell smirk, too. Excellent. You know, I think it’s important that we all pause and appreciate little moments like this that make life so much richer.

  Nell made a big show of closing the door behind her, emphasizing that she was leaving and I was being asked to stay behind with a teacher.

  When the door was shut I turned to Anne. “I didn’t crumble her dumb stone.” I crossed my arms over my chest. As much as I hoped I wasn’t irrevocably dark, I was terrified that Anne would say I was, say I wasn’t cut out to be here after all, that I should be the one to leave.

  Instead she said, “Is there any chance that Nell is the one who put the dark spells on your room?”

  I was so surprised that it took me a minute to process her question. “I don’t know,” I said slowly, thinking. “I didn’t think she was powerful enough, but then, I don’t really know how to judge that. And I didn’t think she hated me that much. But now I’m starting to wonder.”

  “Why would she hate you?” Anne’s blue eyes were kind and curious.

  “I actually… don’t know,” I said awkwardly. “If it’s about anything, it’s about Reyn—she’s crazy about him, and he’s oblivious to it. But clearly, Reyn and I will be avoiding each other—I mean, he’s the devil. So if it’s about Reyn, it’s a waste of her time. Yet I can’t deny that she does seem to be on the ‘hate Nastasya’ bandwagon.”

  “Hmm.” Anne brushed her fine dark hair off her face and looked at me.

  “But I didn’t crumble her rock,” I felt compelled to add. “I haven’t made magick the—old way.”

  “No—I know,” she said. “She did. Her stone essentially refused to bind with her.”

  I blinked. “Wha—it self-destructed?”

  “Yes. Even though I’m pretty sure it was the right one for her,” Anne said. “It’s interesting. How did your power feel to you?”

  I didn’t want to brag, or gush. “It felt… really good. It felt strong. It didn’t feel dark to me, or scary, like something I wanted to shrink away from. I heard the words I was singing, and I thought they sounded… strong. Beautiful.” So much for not bragging or gushing.

  “They were. They were incredibly strong. And incredibly beautiful. It’s your legacy.” She looked at me again, as if she was trying to memorize my face. I started feeling anxious, and I stuck my moonstone in my pocket and headed for my coat. Outside, the night was as thick and comforting as a black mantle, and I could see snowflakes starting to drift down.

  “How do you feel about your stone?”

  I looked down and tried to work the stupid double zipper thing on my coat. Who would ever want to unzip their coat from the bottom up? Nobody! I looked up, into Anne’s clear eyes. Nothing snappy or sarcastic came to me. “I… love it,” I blurted, embarrassed at expressing so much. “I love it. It’s mine. It’s—it’s—”

  “It’s part of you,” she said calmly.

  ?
??Yes,” I muttered, giving up on the zipper.

  “It’s the perfect stone for you,” Anne said, tidying the room, getting into her own coat. “You’re going to make interesting magick with it. I’m looking forward to seeing that.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “Do you remember learning the song you sang?” she asked, closing the door behind us. We walked down the hallway side by side. It was late and my eyelids were heavy, my emotions drained.

  “No,” I said, holding my coat closed as we went out into the cold night air. The darkness surrounded us, lending a feeling of intimacy to our walk. Suddenly the truth started coming out of my mouth. Most unusual. “At the time, it felt like it was just coming from, like, the ground, from the earth itself,” I said. “I felt like I was a conduit for something that already existed and was just going through me, you know?”

  “Yes,” said Anne. “I know.”

  “Then, right before Nell’s stone exploded, I suddenly remembered my mother, singing the same song as she did something. I don’t know what.” I’d never voluntarily mentioned anyone in my family, and braced myself for the barrage of questions.

  Typically, Anne didn’t do what I expected. “It was a very ancient power, my dear,” she said. “Very strong, as I said. You’re the only person in the world who can access that line of power. It’s a powerful, even frightening gift.” Her eyes shone in the night, and I held my breath, waiting for the horrible peeling off of more onion layers. I wasn’t ready. Not yet.

  Anne rubbed her hands together and blew on them. “You know Reyn isn’t really the devil, right?” A glimmer of a smile played around her mouth.

  “No, I don’t know that,” I said.

  Anne laughed. “For one thing, we don’t believe in the devil. In evil, yes. It exists. We fight it every day. But the devil? No.”

  “Okay, an agent of evil, then,” I acquiesced.

  She took one of my hands in both of hers. “I understand why you feel that way, Nastasya.” Her voice was serious now. “I do. But you know, Reyn is just a man, though an immortal one. Who Reyn was, what he did—that was the culture he grew up in. Was he the only raider who ever attacked your father’s castle?”

  “He was the only one who got in,” I said stiffly. My heart was aching inside. I didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Was his horde the only army who wiped out villages?” Anne pressed gently. “People have been conquering and enslaving each other for the whole history of mankind. In our current time, people see it, know about it, revile it. Back then—it was a part of life, like the plague, like plowing with horses, like having seven of your ten children die.”

  I looked at her. “You’re making excuses for him?” My voice was cold, disbelieving.

  “Not at all,” Anne said firmly. “Not every man back then did what he did, chose his path. Many, many men wanted peace, wanted homes and families. No, Reyn was a violent, power-hungry warrior, born into a violent culture where subduing other cultures was the norm. He didn’t rebel against it, didn’t run away from it. He embraced it—the horror, the death, the darkness. But almost three hundred years ago, he chose a different path and left behind his weapons and his armor. He left his father’s house and abdicated his leadership. His people banished him for choosing to reject darkness and death. Since then he’s waged war of a different kind, within himself, against his own nature. He has tried consistently to choose good over dark, peace over violence, life over death.”

  I remembered Reyn talking about how following darkness meant madness and unending pain.

  “It’s been a hard battle, every day of his life since then,” Anne went on. We were at the house, but standing outside, in the dark and the cold. “He’s backslid. He’s made progress and lost it. He’s descended into abysses and crawled back out again. But I know, and River knows, that he’s a good man, beneath everything.” She looked at me thoughtfully. “And I think you know that, too.”

  My mouth dropped open—how could she possibly say that to me?

  Anne clapped her hands and breathed in. “Oh, I smell wood smoke! Nothing smells as cozy as wood smoke on a cold night, don’t you agree?”

  I said nothing.

  CHAPTER 28

  The next day I was on breakfast duty. I burned two pounds of bacon. One minute I was totally on top of it, turning strips like a pro, then I stopped to grab a pan of English muffins out of the oven, and when I turned back, the entire griddle was covered with blackened strips of pork. I stared at them in disbelief, and then out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of light brown hair bobbing under the kitchen window. I raced to the door, yanked it open, and ran out onto the kitchen steps. There was no one there. But I was sure it had been Nell, and that she had done something to the bacon. She was really starting to rattle my cage. I wanted to grab her and tell her she could have her very own berserker, that I didn’t want him—but I didn’t. River hadn’t asked either of us to keep our histories to ourselves, but as far as I could tell Reyn hadn’t told anyone I was heir to the House of Úlfur, and I hadn’t told anyone he was the Butcher of Winter.

  For the first time, I arrived at work at MacIntyre’s Drugs five minutes late. I’d gotten a ride with Rachel, who was going to continue on to Boston. The streets were clogged with last night’s snow, and the small amount of town traffic was slower than usual.

  “Oh, now she strolls in!” Old Mac roared as the bell over the front door jingled. “Glad you could join us today!”

  I was five fricking minutes late. The best defense is a strong offense. “You order that homeopathic stuff yet?” I demanded, heading to the back to clock in and hang up my coat.

  “Get to work!” he answered.

  Old Mac had gotten up on the wrong side of the bed that day. Meriwether was out of school for the winter holiday, but he kept us both hopping all morning and I barely had a chance to nod to her.

  The Christmas and Hanukkah displays were already pretty picked through. I spent all morning straightening them, refilling shelves where I could. Yule was two days away—I had no idea what River had planned.

  “Are you a complete moron?” Old Mac’s overloud voice made me look up. He was a couple of aisles away, but Meriwether’s quiet, desperate voice clarified who he was yelling at.

  “I’ve told you a hundred times! Keep the medical receipts separate! Are you deliberately trying to destroy what’s left of our business?”

  Two local women were shopping in the recently expanded cosmetics section, and now they looked up, frowning.

  Meriwether mumbled something I couldn’t hear.

  “I don’t care what you thought!” Old Mac bellowed. “I don’t pay you to think! I’ll do the thinking! You just do what I tell you!”

  The women, lips pursed, put down their purchases and left the store with stiff backs and disapproving glances. I was sure Meriwether had seen them—she must be writhing with embarrassment.

  “Just because I let you move some stock, don’t get fancy ideas!” he ranted.

  I stood up, hands clenched. Old Mac was always bad, but usually not this outright cruel, targeting Meriwether so directly.

  “Dad—” I heard her soft voice, knew she was on the edge of tears. I thought about how often her dad yelled at her, about what her life must be like at home.

  My hands started moving in the air, and words slipped from my lips, almost without my realizing it. All I thought was, he’d never bully her again.

  “Gib nat hathor,” I whispered. “Minn erlach nat haben…”

  The aisle mirror showed the store empty except for Old Mac waving his hands under Meriwether’s nose. Then I caught sight of myself, my white-blonde hair, my dark eyes, burning patches of anger on my cheeks, my hands tracing sigils in the air. I was making a spell, making magick. How? Where had this come from, this knowledge? I had a split-second memory of Incy and the cabbie, and me wondering where he had learned that magick. Now I was doing the same thing, and unknown magick was welling up inside me—I
didn’t even need to think about it. Thinking about it only made it slip away like smoke. But here I was, my ancient heritage finally showing up—

  To hurt Old Mac.

  There was a pinpoint of heat in my jeans pocket. Now it was burning my thigh, burning me through the fabric. I stopped and fished it out, my moonstone. It was glowing brilliantly, and seeing that really made me realize what I was doing.

  I wanted to hurt Old Mac, and goddess knew he deserved it. He deserved it more than other people I’d hurt over the years, intentionally and unintentionally. So what was stopping me? My moonstone shone in my hand, almost too hot to hold.

  What was stopping me?

  Incy had crippled that cabbie. Boz had killed those boys.

  River would be so… disappointed? Mad? Disappointed. She might even kick me out of River’s Edge. Then where would I go? Solis and Asher would be mad—maybe not disappointed. Maybe they expected me to do something like this. Nell would be so, so happy, so joyful and triumphant that I had screwed up so spectacularly.

  And they would know, beyond a doubt. They’d be able to detect the scent of magickal energy around me, feel the vibrations in my fingers. I wasn’t at River’s Edge, where magick was cloaked, more or less, invisible to anyone outside. This was right here in town.

  If I did this, if I worked this magick, it would leave an imprint of my energy here. I’d never thought about that before—maybe I’d never have noticed it or thought about it before. But when I walked into a classroom at River’s, I could feel if magick had recently been worked there. I could sometimes tell by whom. I would leave my imprint here in the store, in West Lowing, for anyone to find.

  Abruptly I sat down on an upturned plastic bin. My heart started pounding, and my ears filled with a buzzing sound.

  I had almost ruined everything. I had almost advertised my presence to anyone who would want to pick up on it, to find me. Like Boz. Like Incy. Yes, River and the others had worked spells throughout the town so that I was more or less hidden here. But if I worked magick… that thought was perhaps even more scary than the thought of River’s disapproval.