Thief of Lies (27 page)

“Unfortunately, we haven’t enough of it. We live a normal human lifetime.”

I scowled. “Well, good thing I don’t want to marry him.”

He gave me a mischievous grin.

I sat up, keeping the comforter at my chin. “Pop will kill you if he finds you on my bed.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Déjà vu?”

I smiled, recalling the morning in my apartment before we left for Asile when he sneaked into my bedroom.

His mischievous grin returned. Black eyelashes framed his intensely focused eyes, and they studied me. I wanted to run my fingers through the dark waves of hair falling over his forehead. If it weren’t for the laws and the severe punishment, I would’ve kissed him right then.

“I haven’t been fully honest with you.” He stared at his hands. “Rather, I must seem dodgy to you. I fancied you the first time I spotted you in the library. And then I pushed you away. The laws say we can’t be together. I’m promised to another, and yet, you are always on my mind. You make me question my beliefs. With the threats lately, none of it matters any longer.”

I was tired of his jabbering, and besides, he had me at fancied. I grabbed his arms and pulled him to me as I fell back onto the pillows.

He wrapped me in his strong arms and kissed me. Our legs intertwined and his hands pulled through my hair, cradling my head with gentle fingers. I slipped my arms around his neck and closed my eyes, wanting to savor his touch.

The kiss deepened and incredible sparks ignited through my entire body. I pulled him closer to me. His tongue parted my lips. He tasted of maple syrup, like he’d just eaten breakfast.

His hand slid up my side, and I shivered. His mouth explored mine with such vigor my lips tingled. He drew his head back and watched me, his dark eyes pools of liquid chocolate. He leaned forward and kissed my neck, sending a blaze of heat across my skin.

“You’re beautiful.” The softness in his voice tickled my ear. “I love how you’re so stubborn.” He kissed my earlobe.

My lip trembled.

“I love this little twitch you get when you’re nervous.” He kissed the corner of my mouth. “I really fancy you, Gianna.”

I shot up onto my knees and stared down at him. “Okay. Replay. What did you say?”

“You heard me. I don’t
replay
.” He smirked and sprang from the bed. “We’re late. Get into your gear. We have drills. We only have a few weeks before we go to Asile.”

I assessed my rumpled pajamas. “Wait a minute. Are you kidding me?”

“I don’t kid.” He walked over to the door. “We have practice.”

“I’m not talking about that.” I blew the bangs out of my face. “I was referring to the replay statement.”

He opened the door, amusement in his eyes. “In the future, when someone says he fancies you, it’s a serious moment.” The door clicked behind him.

“You’re a tease!” I yelled at the closed door.

He laughed, his boots thudding down the hall.

“Guys,” I huffed, plopping my butt onto the mattress. My lips stretched into a smile. “He likes me,” I whispered to the room. I wasn’t sure what I thought about that, but it felt pretty damn good.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

O
ver the next several weeks, the master wizards from Couve sent probes to Asile. Probes were stronger than the tracers Sinead used to find people or spy within the libraries. The probes detected wards and gathered information. Each one sent had come back with the same results. Merl’s wards still held, which was good news. The probes also brought back news of Conemar’s army blocking the entry into Asile. Esterilians, Bane Witches, Writhes, some Laniars, shifters, and various others had joined him. There were also creatures the probes couldn’t read.

The Italian, Irish, Spanish, and Greek havens had sent two Sentinels, a few wizards, and several guards to aid us. It was all they could spare, since they needed to protect their own havens. Pure Witches, ferals, fey, Laniars, werehounds, shifters, and a variety of creatures trickled into the shelter to join our side. Artisans worked endlessly to erect temporary housing. Within days, the shelter had become a refugee camp.

As the Sentinels waited for the elders to come up with a battle plan, we spent our days sparring and our evenings soaking in the lake’s hot springs. Along with the French Sentinels, the Sentinels from the other havens joined in on our practice drills.

I waded in the water. Along the bank of the lake, several pairs of eyes gleamed under the moon’s glow. The eyes belonged to werehounds. It was as if I had my own pack of watchdogs. They followed me everywhere I went, whether they were in hound or human form. A preteen werehound girl named Katarina told me they protected me because of Gian, like Ricardo said. He’d been dead since the 1930s, and they still revered him. My heart lifted to be his namesake and it made me work even harder to do him proud.

I hadn’t spent much time with Pop, Afton, or Nick except at meals. Pop helped the Curers—women with healing powers—set up a medical center for when we went to battle. Afton assisted him by organizing the supplies, sterilizing the rooms, and doing whatever was asked of her. A Pure Witch had charmed Afton’s parents into thinking she was on some sort of travel thing for school. Pop simply told Nick’s parents the truth. Nick’s mother already knew about the Mystik world because of my mother. Of course, she freaked and made Pop promise to watch over him.

Sinead and Deidre became Nick’s security guards, never letting him out of their sights. Bastien, along with the higher wizards, taught him charms and spells. Their efforts were futile; Nick’s power seemed suppressed by the cross branded on his scalp. An elder wizard determined the only way to remove the brand was through surgery. Pop assisted one of the Curers as the older woman lanced off the brand. Nick was still recuperating in his room.

I leaned back in the water and floated on the surface.

The ripples against my cheek grew larger as Arik swooshed over and cradled me in his arms. “You’re deep in thought.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and bobbed with him. “I hate all this waiting. Why don’t we just go rescue Asile now?”

“We have to be ready. If we go unprepared, we’ll lose.”

“Hey, Gia!” Afton called from the edge of the lake.

Arik released me and I waded over to Afton. She watched the Sentinels jumping from the rocks into the lake. “Nick’s asking for you.” She bent over, picked up a towel from the grass, and tossed it to me as I came out of the water.

As I dashed, I busted Arik checking me out in my bikini. I flung the towel around myself. “I’ll see you later. Nick’s awake,” I said to Arik, and followed Afton up the hill. The dog pack plodded after us.

When we were far enough away from the others, I said, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “It’s strange how they all act like they’re not about to go into battle. That they could die. That you…”

“That I might die?”

She stared ahead. “Yes.”

Back home we never fell into awkward silences, but now we did frequently. I figured it confused her having two Gias around.

“You and Deidre have been hanging out a lot lately,” I said, and then wished I hadn’t. “Not that that’s a bad thing. I was just wondering how she was doing, is all.”
Yeah, you didn’t just sound like a jealous friend.

“Well, she never leaves Nick’s side.” She sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “They really do love each other. As for me, I always pick the bad boys. It’s my own fault. You’d think I’d learn by now.”

“Quit being hard on yourself. You just haven’t found the right one yet.”

“Thank you,” she said with a grateful smile. “I sure do miss chilling with you.”

“I miss you, too.” I gave her a hug. I glanced back at the lake, where the rest of the Sentinels were still splashing around. “Have you seen Bastien lately?” The last time I’d seen the wizard was at his father’s funeral. He’d looked so devastated, and I’d had to swallow the compulsion several times to comfort him.

“I see him a lot. He works with Nick every day. His father’s death must really be messing with him. He hardly speaks to anyone.” She gave me a questioning look. “Why? Are you into him?”

“No, of course not. Just worried about him.” I did have an unhealthy urge to see him, but I reminded myself I needed to stay away. The last thing I wanted to think about was that betrothal hanging over us. I decided to change the subject. “So, what have you been up to?”

The chatterbox was back. Once Afton began talking, I couldn’t get a word in. She rattled on about her forced friendship with Deidre and her homesickness. She told me working with Pop made her want to go into the medical field. Before long, we stood together at the side of Nick’s bed. His closed eyelids flickered and their long mink lashes fluttered as if he were dreaming.

With Conemar for a birth father, what suppressed powers did Nick have? And what if that power changed him? The uncertainty scared me. How stupid and hypocritical was I? I hadn’t changed. Had I? This was Nick. We grew up together. I knew him. He’d never hurt anyone.

I placed a shaky hand on his arm. His eyes fluttered and opened.

“Hey, cuz,” I said. “Do you think you’ll need a toupee, or will you go with the comb-over thingy?”

“Ha-ha,” he said weakly. “Very funny. Did someone dunk you underwater or is this your new look?”

“Touché.” I was relieved he still had his sense of humor, and it must’ve shown on my face.

He frowned. “I didn’t have a lobotomy. They just lanced the surface of my skin. They’ve assured me the hair will grow back.”

“I know.” I patted his arm. “You’re going to be fine. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

He tried to get up, and Afton eased him back onto his pillows. “You have to stay in bed,” she said. “Watch him. I’m going to get your pop. He’ll give Nick something to help him sleep.”

“I have to go see my parents.” He lifted his head. “It’s still me. I won’t be evil like him.”

Does he mean Conemar?

Afton returned with Pop, and he gave Nick a shot.

“I’m not evil,” Nick whispered.

I held his hand, tears stinging my eyes. “No one thinks that.”

“You do.”

“I’d never think—”

His eyes closed just then and he fell asleep, so Afton, Pop, and I crept out.

All the way to my room, Nick’s words replayed in my head. I wanted to take away his fears. I knew dread well. I’d lived with it the last several months. Conemar had to be defeated. It was the only way to keep Nick safe. To get us back to our old lives.

T
he elder wizards had finally devised a plan. The shelter was buzzing with preparations for the impending battle. I worked alongside Arik, sharpening and cleaning my sword. The other Sentinels busied themselves with readying their gear for the fight scheduled for the morning.

The screaming of my blade under the sharpening stone drowned out Carrig’s approach. “Gia,” he snapped.

I jumped, practically falling off the boulder I was sitting on. “Omigod!” After righting myself, I glanced up at him, squinting against the sun. “Maybe give a warning next time, like clear your throat or something, before startling a girl messing with a sharp object, huh?”

“Me apologies, didn’t mean to frighten you. I would like a word in private.” He abruptly turned and walked off. When I didn’t follow him, he called over his shoulder, “Are you coming, or do you need a proper invite?”

I plodded down the hill after him. He led me through trees until we stopped at a clearing by the river.

“This should be private enough.” He sat on the grass. “Come join me.”

I hesitated.

“Come on, trust me.” He patted the grass.

I dropped down beside him. It was cool and refreshing under the shade of the trees after being in the sun all day. “What are we doing here?”

He fished a powder-white stone from his pocket. “Don’t let losing your truth globe upset you. It served its purpose by revealing whom you could trust at a time when you were vulnerable. There be other ways of knowing the truth. One way be scrying. Only High Wizards are allowed to perform a scrying; it be illegal for the rest of us, because of the dangers.”

“You mean like what the wizards did to Lorelle?”

“Yes. Except for Lorelle’s be forced, which is extremely painful. This be a scrying stone.” With the stone still in his hand, he grabbed my hand, nesting the stone between our palms. “I want to show you something. Close your eyes, and don’t fight it. Just let the stone work its magic.”

The stone heated. Sparks danced against my closed lids. Visions flashed across my mind. It showed Carrig finding out I was Gia and not Deidre, and I could feel his excitement at the news. Then Carrig huddled in a corner of the dungeon, cold and thirsty. Lorelle, disguised as Aunt Eileen, drugged him with spiked tea.

“Is this playing backward?”

“Tis,” he said.

A little girl resembling me at about age five or six ran into his arms.

“Is that Deidre?” I asked.

“She be nearly six then.”

I closed my eyes. Sinead stroked his hair as he cried and trembled on her shoulder. He watched me—I had to be four—having a picnic with Pop on the Common. A dark depression overwhelmed me as he realized my mother was dead. He was across the street as a white delivery van hit my mother. My heart broke watching him discover Marietta had run away from Asile. Love warmed me as Carrig danced with a pregnant Marietta.

Tears slid down my temples. “You were there when she died. How come you didn’t take me with you?”

“You were safe where you were. It
broke
me heart to leave you. Now, focus.”

I returned my attention to the rewinding visions of Carrig’s life. When Carrig saw Marietta for the first time, he said the word “beautiful” under his breath as she approached him.

“The first time you met her, you thought that?”

“Pay attention.”

Fearlessly, he fought in battles within the most stunning libraries of the world. He was a little younger than I was as he trained on rolling green hills cut with white-stone walls. Night approached as he and his coach trained. I sensed Carrig’s loneliness as a little boy weeping in a dark corner and his sadness cut through me.

“Stop. Why are you showing me this?”

“I never wanted you to feel that lonely. I saw you with your da, how much he loved you, and I couldn’t take you from him.”

He stood and reached his hand to me. I took it and he pulled me to my feet. Instead of releasing my hand, he towed me into an embrace. “No one could replace you in me heart. I’ve loved you ever since Marietta told me she was with child.”

I buried my face in his chest, wanting to hold on to that moment. I’d always dreamed of my birth father loving me, and now I knew he always had. Seeing my mother in his memories was a true gift. They were memories of a woman we both missed and loved.

A cloud of sadness hovered over us. Carrig cleared his throat and let me go. My pocket crinkled and I stuck my hand in, retrieving the photo of him and my mother, along with her note to him. “I think these are yours.” I handed them over.

He took them, and when he realized what they were, a sob escaped his mouth. “I thought they were lost forever.”

I wrapped my arms back around him. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been so standoffish.” I gulped the tears down. “It’s just—I feel like I’m betraying Pop.”

“Oh, Gia, you can love many people. Love isn’t jealous.” He squeezed me tight.

I was proud to be Carrig’s daughter. He could never be Pop. Maybe he didn’t even want that.

We sat back down on the grass and Carrig told me stories about my mother. I smiled at her insistence on teaching him how to dance. I laughed when he said they’d spar against each other, and my mother would beat him just as many times as he would beat her, if not more.

His face went serious after he finished telling me how my mother would burn everything she cooked.

I laughed. “I can’t cook, either. I set off the smoke alarm burning butter in a pan once.”

He took my hand, and a slight smile pulled on his lips. “It’s because the both of you had more important things to be grand at.”

That thought warmed me.

“You be a victor, Gia,” he said somberly. “You were born for it. Killing will come as naturally to you as winning all them trophies your da brags about.”

“I didn’t have to kill anyone to get them. I mean, I don’t want to kill anyone—or thing.”

“Not even those who would destroy all you love?” He glanced sideways at me. “Because make no mistake—if the Mystik world falls, the human world will follow.”

I studied our hands—his large, mine small. “I-I could die.”

“So you could,” he said. He paused before saying, “We each have an appointment with death. I’d rather die for a cause than die of old age never having done something important.”

“I’m still scared.”

“No matter how many battles I’ve fought, I always go in afraid. It keeps me on me toes.”

This was a conversation I so didn’t want to have. I refused to dwell on tomorrow’s fight or who might die. Nausea filled me when I thought about all that we had at stake. “We should get back,” I said. “I have a lot of work to do before dinner.”

“I need you to do something first.” By the look on his face, it wasn’t something he wanted to ask me but obviously had to.