Authors: Christine Warren
“Sip. Slowly.”
She turned her head away, but the glass followed. In the end, she sipped. It was just easier.
The water flowed over her tongue, helping to wash away the taste of bile. She waited for her stomach to contract, but it felt as if even the internal organ were weary. The trickle went down smoothly, and she accepted another.
Kees eased her back onto the pillows. She heard the click of the glass settling on the bedside table, then felt the rough nap of a wet washcloth against her forehead. He bathed her face like a child’s, then abandoned the cloth and shifted her across the mattress. She didn’t open her eyes, but she felt him stretch out beside her and did nothing.
Not until his arms came around her and he pulled her into his embrace did she renew her struggles.
Once again, he ignored them. He let her buck and writhe, beat his chest and kick his knees and shins. He paid no attention to her foul language as she cursed him in every way she could think of. He simply held her, pressed close to his chest, until she ran out of steam.
When she quieted, he shifted their positions, rolling onto his back and dragging her on top of him. He settled her head on his shoulder and brought his wings forward, wrapping them around her like a living blanket. She let him, too tired to fight, too tired to move.
Too tired for anything.
She felt him lift his head, felt the tender press of his lips against her forehead, then heard the words rumble up from his chest.
“Tell me.”
And for the first time in her life, Ella told someone her darkest secret.
“I killed my parents.”
Kees said nothing. He didn’t even twitch. He simply continued to cradle her like a precious burden, one enormous clawed hand stroking her hair as if she were a tame, affectionate house pet.
Ella waited for the condemnation. When it didn’t come she continued on in the same weary monotone.
“I was twelve. It was nearly summer, and I wanted to come here, to the cabin. I kept asking, begging. Nagging. But mom kept putting me off, telling me ‘soon.’ I got sick of hearing ‘soon,’ but my parents never gave in to tantrums. They were both logical, intellectual people. They believed in reasoning with me, and if I wasn’t being reasonable, they ignored the behavior until it stopped. I learned to really, really hate being ignored.
“They loved me, a lot. I was an only child, and they both had wanted me badly, but I don’t think I was quite the child they were expecting. Not only were they logical, they were scientists. Mom taught biology; Dad was a physicist. They probably thought they’d get a little Einstein, or at least a top-tier engineer. Instead they got a little girl who loved fairy tales, art, and music and could barely handle long division. Boy, did I confuse them.
“But I know they loved me. They just had no idea what to do with me.”
She paused and opened her eyes. All she could see were shadows. Kees’s wings enveloped her in a dark cocoon. She could make out his chest next to her face, the back of her own hand where it lay curled against his skin, and the leathery, veined inner surface of his wings. It felt like being in a confessional, only warmer. Safer.
Kees remained silent, only steadily, softly stroking her hair. Ella flattened her hand on his chest and resumed her story.
“I think I was just a toddler when I told them I saw things differently. They wanted to chalk it up to my ‘artistic vision,’ but I guess that’s hard to do when your kid tells you that Mr. Harrington down the street has ugly green branches growing out of his head. I thought everyone could see it. Now I know it was part of the mage sight, but then, I just thought that was the way it was. When I started drawing the things I saw, they really freaked out. No more watercolors for Ella.”
She sighed.
“They ignored it as best they could, discouraged me from talking about it. Tried to tell me that none of it was real. Since no one ever believed me, not even other children, and all the adults I talked to looked horrified whenever I brought it up, I stopped talking about it. And mostly, I stopped seeing it. By the time I was seven or eight, I could do a decent impression of a normal kid.
“Then puberty hit.”
Ella stopped again and tried to fight back the tears. How she even had any left, she couldn’t understand, but there they were. And they wanted out.
“Tell me,” Kees repeated, and his hand stroked over her hair all the way down her back.
The touch soothed her, gave her strength. She even felt a warm glow and wondered if this was part of the energy exchange the binding spell had caused. If it was, she could have used it earlier, when she’d been about to throw up her spleen.
She sighed. “Right before I turned twelve, I got my first period, and I started to see things again. Only this time, there was more. Stuff started to happen around me. light bulbs blew out, TVs changed channels, computers crashed. Sometimes, stuff even moved. If my parents had been religious instead of scientific, they probably would have decided we had a poltergeist.”
“It was the magic.”
“Yeah. Sometimes I could see it and see that it was coming from me, but I had absolutely no control over it. I happened even when I was trying to hold it back. In fact, when I least wanted it to happen was when it always seemed to.”
Kees squeezed her gently. “Stress. And hormones, I hear. The average teenaged mage does quite a bit of property damage before he learns self-control.”
“Tell me about it.”
He chuckled, then waited quietly for her to go on.
“Since my parents didn’t believe in ghosts, they thought there had to be a perfectly logical explanation for everything that was going on. They also agreed that I was causing everything. Which, in a way, I was, I guess.”
“You were a child, Ella.” He rumbled softly.
“Anyway, they decided they needed to find an explanation, and then a solution. So when I was twelve, they took me to see a psychiatrist.”
Kees stiffened. The hand on her back went still. “Your parents thought you were mad?”
She snorted softly. “My parents thought I was acting out. The psychiatrist was the one who thought I was crazy.”
She heard another low sound of displeasure, which seemed to start in Kees’s toes and climb into his throat, building intensity all the way. She marveled at the idea that his immediate reaction to the story was to believe in her, to defend her, to be outraged in her behalf. She savored it, because she knew that soon enough, he would hear what she had done, and he wouldn’t ever feel the same way again.
“They found an expert in child psychology in Coquitlam. He came highly recommended.” Her tone, she knew, indicated her opinion of those recommendations. “I didn’t like him. I don’t remember much about the evaluation interview. I remember that he spent a lot of time just watching me, not talking, and I remember that he looked dark to me, and cold. But I don’t remember what questions he asked me, or how I answered. For a child psychiatrist, I don’t think he liked kids very much. He didn’t seem to like me.”
Ella knew she was stalling. She felt so comfortable, so safe, curled up in Kees’s embrace. She felt loved. He was being so sweet, so patient and protective, that she wanted to put off telling him the truth. She was afraid that when he pushed her away again, she would break.
He stroked her back again, his fingers kneading her shoulders with gentle strength. “Tell me,” he repeated a third time.
“After the doctor spoke to me, he wanted to speak to my parents right away. He took them into another room, so I never heard exactly what he told them, but when they came out, I could tell they were upset. I didn’t care. I just wanted to get out of there and go home. The appointment was on a Thursday, and Friday, the next day, we were supposed to head up to the cabin. I could hardly wait.
“I fell asleep in the car on the way home. I used to take a lot of naps that year. All the stuff that was happening—” She corrected herself. “All the
magic
used to wear me out. I’d be exhausted just staying conscious some days.”
Kees made a sound, something understanding, but he didn’t speak. He just waited for her to continue.
“I woke up because they were arguing. It had just gotten dark, because we’d been stuck in traffic leaving Coquitlam after a wreck or something. Dad was driving, but he and Mom were fighting. They never fought, so I guess their voices woke me. And then I realized they were fighting over me.”
Her throat tightened, and she tried to swallow. “They didn’t think I was listening, and I heard that the doctor had told them I needed to be committed. Not only did he think I was crazy, he thought I was a danger to myself and others and that I needed to be put in the hospital.”
She heard his snarl and knew he was about to rush to her defense, but she didn’t want to hear it. If she didn’t finish the story, if she didn’t get through this now, she never would. Ella pushed against his chest until he released her. Sitting up, she shifted away from him and drew her knees up against her chest.
“The thing was,” she continued tightly, “they weren’t arguing about the diagnosis. One of them didn’t disagree, or want a second opinion; they both agreed with him that I was crazy. They just couldn’t agree on when I should go to the hospital. The doctor had wanted to commit me immediately, that afternoon, but Dad had held out. He wanted us to have the weekend together, up here, at the cabin. He said next week was soon enough for the hospital. My mother was arguing with him. The doctor had scared her, and she was afraid something might happen if they didn’t bring me back right away.”
Ella shuddered and closed her eyes tight as the memories flooded her. “I got so damned
angry
. It made me furious. I thought they loved me, that they were there to protect me, and they were talking about sending me away, about locking me up in a mental hospital. It wasn’t even a question of ‘if’ from them. All they had to decide was when.”
She buried her face in her drawn-up knees and curled her hands into fists. She wanted to scream, to hit something, which was exactly how she’d felt that night. She’d been betrayed by the people she trusted most in the world. She’d thought they loved her, but now they were pushing her away, abandoning her.
“I lost it.” She didn’t lift her head. She knew her voice was muffled by her position, but she couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t look at his face while she told him the truth. With his supernatural senses, she knew he could hear her. “I completely lost it. I started screaming in the backseat. Dad nearly swerved off the road, and Mom went a little bonkers. At first she tried to calm me down, but I wouldn’t shut up. I couldn’t. I’d never been so angry in my life. I wanted to hurt them, because they’d just hurt me so damned badly.”
She fought back the sobs, but she couldn’t control the shaking. “Mom was yelling, and then Dad started yelling, just trying to be heard over the two of us, I think. He was trying to calm us down, but I was completely out of control. And then the magic just … exploded.”
Ella shuddered, trapped in her memory. She could see the blinding flash of light, feel the almost painful release as the power overwhelmed her and shot forth from her body, like the way it had when she released it at Kees that first night. But when she was a kid it had felt even wilder, more dangerous, more out of control. It had filled the car.
She remembered the screaming, the sound of car horns, a second flash of light. She felt the impact all over again, the violent grasp of her seat belt against her hips and chest, the horrible crunch of metal on metal. The blood.
She would never forget the smell of blood.
“I killed them,” she whispered. “I killed my parents. I lost control and the magic took over. There was a huge car wreck. Our station wagon, another car, and a huge cargo truck. My parents both died on impact. We hit the other car head-on. That driver died, too, and the truck plowed into us from behind. It was an old truck, no airbags, only a lap belt restraint. His spine snapped on impact. The cargo compartment of the station wagon completely crumpled, but the backseat remained intact. I was the only one who walked away.
“And it was all my fault.”
Chapter Fifteen
Kees looked down at his little human and knew once and for all that he had a heart, because he felt it break.
He reached out for her and winced when she flinched away from his touch. The sound of her sobbing cut him deeper than the
nocturnis
’s enchanted dagger. That wound had already closed and was well on the way to healing. He thought he might feel this blow forever.
The next time he reached for her, he ignored the way she recoiled. He didn’t care if she wanted to be touched. Whether she wanted it or not, his little human needed to be held.
She also needed to understand that what she had told him about killing her parents had been complete and utter nonsense.
First, though, he needed to calm her down again.
He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his lap, arranging her once again against his chest. He felt a surge of amusement as he realized the familiar position was quickly becoming a habit, one he had no hesitation in enjoying. Kees liked the way his little human felt in his arms. He wanted to keep her there.
Ella continued to cry while he held her. After her earlier bout, he wondered where all the moisture came from, then reached for the abandoned glass of water and made her drink some more. She must be getting dehydrated.
Again she fought him, and again he persisted until she gave in and sipped. This time, he didn’t let up until she’d drained the glass.
She had obviously worn herself out again. He could tell by the way she wasn’t banging her toes or heels against his lower leg or trying futilely to force his arms to unwrap from around her. Instead, she just lay quietly against his chest until her sobs faded into quiet.
Kees waited until he felt her muscles begin to unclench before he hooked a finger under her chin and raised her face to his.
“Look at me, little human,” he commanded. Reluctantly, she met his gaze. “Understand this. I listened to every word you just told me. I heard everything you said, and I want you to know that you are a fool.”