Authors: Anise Rae
Aurora tensed. Those words had hovered on her tongue for so long. She lifted a hand to her lips. They tingled beneath her touch like fireworks beneath her skin. Allison had set her confession free.
“Well, no. She didn’t. But the girl hardly wants to declare her love in front of one new friend and a guard. What are you doing out there anyway? This is taking so long! Catch this crooked witch already!” A pause. “Well, good.” She leaned forward. “Driver, behind Bleak’s Diner on Front Street. Do you know where that is?”
Aurora swallowed hard. Blasted hells. They were heading into the Drainpipe. “His name is Captain Whitman, not Driver.” Aurora’s snappish tone contained her fear, which had nothing to do with Allison and everything to do with being exposed as a creator of unnatural physique.
Captain Whitman made a tight U-turn in the street and headed out as Allison patted her hand. “You sound as tense as Edmund did. You poor thing. Just remember that though you may not be done yet, you’re closer than you were one fissure ago.” She shook her head. “Fissures. Who would have thought someone would do this to Rallis Territory?”
The seven blocks to the diner didn’t go quickly enough. When the captain stopped the car at the curb, Aurora jumped out and paced to the back of the building. The fissure was at the back door. If anyone had walked out, they would have stepped through it.
Allison met her at the side of the building. “Edmund says the next places are by the gang’s fire barrel, one by the western-most trash tower, the unused one. Another in line with the old water tower, but six steps inside the…. Enchantress, you’ve gone pale as a ghost! What’s the matter?”
If the culprit kept going in that direction, he’d been in the forest next.
“I’ve got it from here. We’ve practically caught up with him.” She ran down the street and past the car, huffing for air as she sprinted down the crumbling road that Whittier became. She reached the junkyard. The towers loomed ahead, black shadows against twilight’s bare spark. Glitter puffed in unflattering and telling clouds around her.
The burn barrel was just ahead, glowing with its ever-present winter flame, though it was empty of anyone to warm. The guards were scattered around the field and the front of the metallist’s shop. She didn’t blame them for avoiding the barrel. The fissure hovered right over it. She yanked her hand across it and repaired the mark, singeing her palm in the process. She ignored it, racing on.
Her heart pounded through her body until it flooded her ears with its thump. Edmund still wasn’t in sight. She stopped for two breaths, and then she sprinted again.
He’d vowed not to go into the forest. He couldn’t be in there. His vow to her simply wouldn’t let him. Even so, she knew with gut deep certainty, he’d done it anyway.
She dashed through the field, slowing long enough to spot the fissure by the trash tower that held her father’s sketches. She mended it in a blink and continued on.
The water tower stood so far away. Never had she felt so slow. Why hadn’t she picked a home closer to her shop?
Her lungs worked overtime until she finally rounded the water tower. She stopped short. No chaotic energy waited for her on her doorstep. She glanced around. There had to be another one around here somewhere. What had Allison said? Six steps inside?
She yanked at the enchantment of the vines covering the water tower and peered in. But no chaos waited. She stepped back out. Horror sank through her. She hadn’t stuck around to hear the rest of Allison’s message. It wasn’t six steps inside the water tower. It was six steps inside the forest, in line with the water tower. She was right. He’d gone in.
Fear clogged her throat, leaving little room for breathing. Going as fast as she could, she closed the distance to the woods. The bare, cold trees enveloped her as she entered. She counted. Six steps. Edmund’s stride was longer than hers, but the fissure had to be right in front of her.
A little giggle sounded farther into the woods, once, then twice. Oh, goddess, she knew that giggle. Only on her luckiest days had she managed to coax out that sound.
She stepped forward. The fissure greeted her with a touch so sharp it might have been a knife. The stab of chaotic energy pierced through her skin and into her vibes. A soft scream of pain shot from her throat.
Oh, goddess, she was going to pay for her hurry. Reaching for the bond without conscious thought, she fixed the fissure, but nearly fell to her knees in the attempt. Weakness washed through her, but she couldn’t collapse yet.
She needed to save Lily.
She stood framed between two trees at the top of the little rise. Her pale skin glimmered in the bare hint of night’s light. Thanks to his mage power, he could clearly see the fury that burned with a green flame in her eyes. His chest tightened at the sight, though he’d expected nothing less.
Technically he wasn’t violating his vow to her. He hadn’t gone searching for her secrets. Regardless, he’d had no choice. The fissures had led a clear path into the forest, but the trail had turned colder than the night.
When he’d come across the little girl, he’d stopped trying to race back out. Instead he’d accepted her invitation to sit next to her on her rock by the river. Lily had introduced herself with a solemn handshake.
“Rora! I found a friend in the woods. Is he new?” She pushed her droopy, wilting flower crown away from her eyes. Aurora had made it. Lily had told him that fact with love and adoration shining from her dark brown eyes. She’d instantly carved a place in his heart.
“What are you doing in here? How are you even in here?” Aurora whispered, leaning her shoulder against a tree.
He cleared his throat, trying to rid himself of the tight pinch that had taken hold. “I was asking Lily if she’d seen anyone else roaming the woods.”
She jumped down from her seat on the rock and bounced on her toes, warmly encased in furry boots, her pink pajama bottoms tucked inside. “Nope! Not even Grammy.”
“Where is your grammy, do you think?” he asked.
Aurora stumbled closer. “Her grandmother heals, Edmund. She doesn’t destroy, so don’t go thinking she’s the guilty party here.”
He almost flinched from the derision in her tone. He was the guilty one in her eyes.
“You, young lady, should be in bed.” Aurora frowned at the little girl.
Lily looked up at him with those beseeching eyes, silently begging for an ally.
He had to look away. “She’s right. How old are you?”
“Ten. Twelve.”
He crooked an eyebrow at the mischief-maker. “Ah. Ten twelve. I remember that age. It’s not easy. But here’s what I learned: it’s much harder to be ten twelve when you sneak out of bed. The next day doesn’t go so well.”
“You were ten twelve, too?”
“Yep. I was”—he made a guess—”four once, too.”
She gasped. “I’m four!”
He glanced over at Aurora. From her glare, he hadn’t charmed her a bit.
“Your grandmother is probably worried sick,” Aurora admonished. “You need to call her right now.”
Lily’s lower lip puffed out, but the little girl had chosen the wrong day to try to pull one over on his enchantress.
“Right now,” Aurora ordered.
Lily reached up for her earring, fingered it, and smiled. “Grammy,” she sang. “I’m on the rock by the river.”
He tried not to frown at the permanent calling card spell.
A shout came from deeper in the woods. “I know! I was coming to get you. I cannot believe you left the house. I tucked you in and you snuck out? You are four years old! I even had to get Tera out of bed to search for you.” The grandmother’s anger vibed through her words, growing louder as she came closer. “What were you thinking? Do you know how dangerous this….” Merida broke off as she laid eyes on Aurora. “I didn’t know you were with Aurora…and…” She stammered as shifted her gaze to him.
A mass of scars marred one side of the older woman’s face as if her skin had melted and tried to slide off her face. Her right eye slanted down with the pull of the ugly burn. Superstitions abounded about such scars, all tied to the stories of the goddess’s banished consort…not a figure any mage wanted to be associated with. To be consort-marked was to be touched by the hand of evil. Though it was just a superstition, it didn’t stop the prejudice.
This was why Aurora had hidden the old woman, saving her from rejection and ridicule.
“Merida,” Aurora began, “this is Lord Edmund Rallis.”
“But you can call me Monday.” Edmund bowed. “And so can Tera...wherever she may be.”
A shimmer of vibes waved like a mirage by a turn in the river’s bank. “Here.” A girl with violet hair and big eyes appeared from behind a shield spell. A damn good shield.
None of them understood the word
forbidden
as pertained to the forest apparently. They could be arrested for being in here, but trespassing wasn’t tonight’s problem. He thought up his question carefully, avoiding words the vow would protest, and then formed the spell.
“Edmund, please. Don’t,” Aurora’s plea didn’t stop him. Duty called. He had to.
He wrapped his vibes around the words as he spoke. “Other than violating the law by existing here, are either of you causing the Republic or the territory harm?”
“No!” the girl shouted as if the word was ripped from her. Compelling spells sometimes did that to the weak or the young.
Merida’s denial was softer but equally vehement.
“Did either of you see anyone else trespassing in the forest tonight other than Aurora, myself, and Lily?” Again, he received negative answers. Fissure Man was as invisible as Tera’s shield spell had rendered her.
“I’m looking for Overseer Wasten. When was the last time you saw him, healer?”
“Weeks ago.” The healer turned to Aurora. “What’s the matter with you?” The sharp bite in her voice raised his hackles.
“I didn’t know he was here.” Tears shook Aurora’s words. “He vowed not to come. I was wrong. I messed up.”
“I’m not talking about him. I’m talking about you. You’re fading.”
Edmund climbed up the rise toward her, but she matched him step for step, backing up. The slope of the rise made for uneven footing, her ankle twisting beneath her. He reached for her, but she found her balance against a tree.
He hadn’t even noticed her energy. “Oh, goddess, Ror. You walked through it. Damn those—”
“Watch your language. And I’m fine.” Her weak tone couldn’t conceal her lie.
“You’re not fine.” He was going to fucking kill that bastard ten times over. Destroying his family’s bond was worth one death. The remaining nine were for hurting her.
“It’s not your concern. Not anymore.”
“Blasted h…” He broke off with a sideways glance at little Lily. “Heck. You will always be my concern.”
“You waited, didn’t you?” she spat. “You waited to call Allison until you were far enough ahead that I wouldn’t catch you. You knew you’d be violating the vow you made to me.”
He drew back at her accusation, though part of it was true. He’d given himself a good lead before calling Allison to relay the message where the next spots were. There’d been a chance he could catch their culprit and drag him out of the forest before Aurora arrived.
A tear trailed down her perfect cheek. Her sorrow burned his heart worse than a fissure.
“I didn’t break my word to you. I wasn’t searching for your secrets or for Lily.” He took another step closer.
“Semantics!” She held up her hand to threaten him off.
It was no threat. “Sweetheart, even if you weren’t sick, what exactly do you plan to throw at me? Flower blossoms?”
“Mr. Monday,” the healer called, “Can I count on you to get her home? I’ll come check on her as soon as I get Lily back in bed.”
“I don’t need help.” Aurora took another step away. “Merida, do you not understand who he is?”
She thought he would cause trouble for the poor healer because of a horrible accident of fate. It was another stab to his heart. He wanted to clutch at it, to hold it together until she could heal it with a forgiving smile. “Aurora, I don’t care what she looks like. I’d never cause her trouble for an accident that was not her fault.”
The furious flame in her eyes slowly doused. A dull blankness remained in its place.
He closed the distance between them and put a hand around the back of her neck. Her skin was ice. He pulled her into him and she went, but only because she was too weak to fight. “I’m worth more faith than that, Aurora.”
“I know perfectly well who he is, Aurora,” the healer interrupted. “He goes with you.” She stressed the last word, as if she knew well his enchantress had no strength to get herself home.
Aurora lifted her head, but he didn’t let go.
“Don’t bother to argue,” he said. “You’ll only waste your strength.” A strength that was rapidly depleting. Her body slouched against his.
“Is she gonna be all right?” Lily’s innocence rang through the woods.
“She’ll be fine.”
Aurora’s eyes drifted shut. Her quiet groan vibrated through him. Vincent had once described how it felt to be sense sick. Even your eyelids hurt, he’d said.
“It’s my job to make sure she’s all right,” he told Lily. “Do you know Bull, Lily?”
“He’s my uncle.”
“Uncle Bull made me promise to take care of everyone back here. Including Aurora. Including you.” He lifted Aurora in his arms and headed toward her home. “Back to bed, Lily.” He threw the words over his shoulder. “And stay there. No more sneaking out.”
“But we wouldn’t be friends if I hadn’t snucked out,” she shouted.
“We’ll meet again.” He cast his words to her with a spell so he wouldn’t shout in Aurora’s ear. “Now, good night, little one.”
Aurora pushed against his grip as he stomped through the forest. “You broke your vow. How are you even in here?”
He frowned at her short memory. “We just discussed this, darling. I came in here looking for our culprit. That does not break my vow since I swore to not look for your secrets in here, not to stay out of the forest. I understand why you’ve given Merida shelter. Too many would look at her face and be tempted to finish the job. Are there anymore of that family still alive?”