A Matter of Heart (18 page)

“What’s going on?” I ask
Jonah, who is so still. But I know better. An overly calm Jonah equals a
furious Jonah. He’s not one to show his hand easily, which makes me all the
uneasier with these new arrivals.

The anger is his eyes
softens when he looks at me. “I . . .” He glances back over at the door, where
Kellan is speaking too low for me to hear. “I need to go talk to Jens, honey.
Would it do any good for me to ask you to go to the other room?”

He’s joking, right? “No.”

“This is outrageous,” Astrid
is saying. “You have been reprimanded by the Council twice now. You must be
eager to lose your position, Jens. Either that, or you’re a very stupid man.”

What’s this?

“Charming as ever, Astrid,”
Jens answers. “Why am I not surprised that you’re here with the Creator”—he
stares right at me—“after your impassioned speech last night?”

His mention of me is
startling. So this is what’s had Jonah so upset? What in the worlds would Jens
Belladonna want with me?

This sends Jonah over to
where everyone else has gathered. “You are not welcome here,” he says in a low
voice. “Or have I not made myself patently clear on this issue yet?”

Jens smiles a smile that
would make a politician weep with envy. “Please, Astrid, Jonah; let us not
conduct our affairs out in a hallway, where everyone can hear. It would be much
nicer if we can do it inside, behind closed doors. Don’t you agree?”

“Whatever was needed to be
said has already been said.” Jonah sounds so rational, so calm, that the only
small action showing his true feelings are the fingers of one hand curled into
whiteness for just the briefest of moments before resuming flexing in and out.

Astrid had a point. How had
I really not noticed this tic of his?

I take a step toward them,
but Astrid turns and shakes her head at me. As does Karl, who has so far been
unnaturally silent. And it’s enough to stop me in my tracks.

“I disagree—” Jens begins,
but Jonah cuts him off.

“Have you so quickly
forgotten the rebuke you were handed last night?”

Jens’ eyes narrow as he
studies Jonah. “I am well within my rights to quest—”

“No,” Jonah snaps. “You are
not.”

“Had you let me finish,”
Jens says with exaggerated patience, “I was going to remind you that I am well
within my rights to question Kellan, as he is part of the Guard and required to
debrief when I see fit. If I recall clearly, you refused me access to the
Creator’s memories, not your brother’s.”

My memories? My body, my
face, must show my confusion, because the next thing I know, Astrid is by my
side and a protective arm is wrapped around my shoulders.

But what is she protecting
me from?

Callie appears behind the
Guard with Kate Blackstone. Kate practically snarls, “How in the hell did you
get into my hospital, Jens? You’ve been banned by the Council!”

“What’s happening?” I
whisper to Astrid, and I’m suddenly scared, because it looks like something bad
is happening and it’s because of
me
and I have no idea why.

Callie squeezes between the
men and darts into the room. Astrid then asks Callie in a low voice to take me
into the next room and lock the door behind us.

I don’t want to go, but
Callie has a very tight grip for such a slender girl. Once she has done as her
mother requested, she says, “Well. This is interesting.”

I let loose a nearly
hysterical laugh at this. Interesting, indeed. “You think?” And then, staring
at the door, “Do you know what’s going on?”

She shakes her head.
“Whatever it is, it’s big,” says the master of the obvious. “Mom is pissed. So
are the boys and Karl, who looks like he’s going to bite off his tongue from
not saying what he wants to. Not to mention, Aunt Kate was practically frothing
at the mouth on the way up.”

“They sent us away,” I
stress, pointing at the door. “Like we are little kids who can’t handle
whatever is going on!” Callie opens her mouth to say something, but I bulldoze
right over her. “They’re talking about me out there.
Me
.”

The look she gives me could
wither forests. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Do you know what it’s like
to be constantly treated like some kind of fragile thing?” I point at her.
“Hovered over, babysat, protected within an inch of my life at all times?”

“Nope,” she answers, popping
the final consonant. “As a matter of fact, I don’t. But gosh, it sounds awful.
People caring about your welfare, ensuring your safety? That blows, Chloe.
Effing bastards. How dare they?” And it’s done flatly, with an eyebrow raised
in scorn.

“You don’t understand,” I
say, and it’s her turn to cut me off.

She’s pissed. “Maybe I
don’t. But I do know that, right now, you’re in here because people want to
keep you safe. Those people out there care enough about you that you ought to
be thanking them, not bitching about how unfair it is. And pardon me, but I got
the very distinct impression earlier that you don’t exactly have the coziest
relationship with your parents. So I’m thinking you ought to be pleased you
have
my
family out there standing up for whatever it is the Guard thinks
you’ve done.”

She’s right, and yet, she’s
not. “I can fight my own battles.”

“Everybody can,” she says,
eyes narrowed. “Yet sometimes it’s okay to let others help. That’s what family
does, Chloe.”

“They’re—” I pause.

“They’re, what? Not your
family?” She’s right in my face. “Huh. Well, let’s see. You’re going to marry
Jonah and no matter what anyone says, he’s as much Astrid’s son as I’m her
daughter. Which makes her your future in-law, who, I ought to point out, has
done nothing but think of your feelings and situation over the last few months
while being deprived of time with her kid.”

I take a step closer. “I
didn’t know about that until yesterday!”

“Then you’re clearly a
selfish moron for not figuring it out sooner.”

I so want to rip that shiny
shampoo commercial hair out by the roots.

She sighs through her nose.
“Look, I don’t want to fight with you, Chloe. Believe it or not, I’m not
against you. Like I said, I want us to . . . you know, make this work. And part
of that is having me call you out on your bullshit, which is what I’d do for
anybody in my life that I care about.”

My eyebrows shoot up in
skeptical disbelief.

“Okay, so I’m not exactly on
board yet with loving you or anything, but I’m here trying. You need to meet me
half-way.” She is so like Cora. How are they not best buds already?

It’s my turn to sigh. It’s
like pulling teeth, but I tell her, “Fine. So you have some good points.” A
small smile graces her lips, so I add, “It’s not like I’m ungrateful. I just .
. . I feel helpless. And I don’t like feeling like that, you know?”

“I do know,” she says
quietly. “Believe me, better than you’d expect.” I give her a questioning look,
and she continues, “Everybody important in my life, everyone who
matters—they’re all Magicals. And I’m a non. I’m the black sheep of this
family, Chloe. I’m the sore thumb, third wheel, square peg, whatever. And you
know what? They’re still there for me. So . . . I get that.” She runs her
fingers through her hair before shaking her head. “But I also get you’re a
Creator who doesn’t need this kind of pity
woe-is-me
party. Jesus. Has
it not even occurred to you to make yourself some kind of spyware right now?
You’ve spent the better part of the last five minutes bitching when you
could’ve been listening in.”

I mentally slap myself in
the forehead and then do it for real. She’s right. I am an idiot. Why have I
not considered this sooner? I groan and whip up a small laptop on the nearby
table that shows, crystal clear, what’s going on in the next room.

Callie eyes the gadget
appreciatively. “That’s what I’m talking about.” Then she puts an arm around my
shoulders and squeezes, much like her mother did. And I can’t help but think
that maybe she was right. Maybe this is what I need. I don’t need another
person in my life to coddle me. I need somebody who’s going to tell me like it
is. Cora does that for me, but she’s been so wrapped up with Raul and school
that I hardly see her anymore.

“Thanks,” I tell her. The
words taste funny coming out. Sticky, but necessary.

“Yeah, well,” she murmurs,
her head dropping to rest against mine for the smallest of seconds before she
lets go. Then she smirks. “Bitch steals my boyfriend, but she’s family, so what
can you do?”

We can do this. “Let’s see
what’s going on.”

“Personally,” Kate is saying
to the group, which is now all standing in Kellan’s room, “I find this entire
line of questioning offensive. Jens, you’ve been given proof by a second tier
Council member, no less. What do you hope to find on this witch-hunt of yours,
anyways? That she stood over them with a bloody knife, carving them up like
slabs of beef?”

“Who says she didn’t?” Jens
throws back. His elegant, refined façade is long gone now.

I can feel the blood drain
out of my face.

“I did,” Jonah practically
growls. He is standing very close to Jens, arms tight across his chest.

“You,” Jens snipes in
returns, “are extremely biased. I told the Council this—”

“He gave you everything I
had,” Kellan cuts in, body mimicking his brother’s down to the exact same
fingers curling into fists against his chest.

Jens shakes his head. “There
are gaps in the memory. Gaps,” he says directly to Jonah, “that are not
acceptable.”

“Gaps,” Jonah scoffs. “Do
you mean while they were in the cave?”

My attention, already
riveted, focuses laser sharp onto the screen as my mind goes into overdrive.
Memory. Gaps. Me. Kellan.
Cave
.

“Yes,” Jens snaps.

“Need I remind you that my
brother was on the verge of a coma for the better part of three days, while
suffering from hallucinations brought on by dehydration and an overuse of
Magic, and that his memory, itself, is incomplete?” Jonah says. “If what I gave
you has gaps in it, it’s because whatever was there is fragmented to the point
it’s irrelevant or unnecessary.”

Unnecessary, I realize, not
because Kellan was fading in or out, but because I was throwing myself at
Kellan and Jonah doesn’t need the world to see this. I cringe at the thought of
him out there, having to defend gaps that hurt him so much to see.

“Asshole,” Callie mutters. I
hope she means Jens.

“I am the one who gets to
judge whether or not something is unnecessary—” Jens says, but Astrid cuts him
off.

“The Council gets to decide,
Jens. Not you.”

“I am tasked by the Council
to helm these missions. None of you seem to be bothered that three experienced
Guard disappeared—”

“Are you insane?” Kate
snarls. “Of course we’re concerned! There was a formal declaration last night
stating so! There are Trackers out there searching at this very minute—not just
from the Guard, but the Council, too!”

“Three Guard disappeared,”
Jens doggedly continues, “and there is not a single shred of evidence to what
happened to them. Why none of you are looking to the Creator astounds me.”

Can he be serious? He really
thinks
I
did something to them?

Callie’s eyes slide over
toward me, no doubt assessing whether or not I’m the . . . what? Murdering
type?

“As my brother has already
informed you multiple times,” Kellan says, voice practically seething in
contempt, “Councilwoman Lilywhite had absolutely nothing to do with the missing
team members’ disappearances. I want to go on record right now, having
witnessed the events first hand, that she is innocent of these ridiculous
charges you seem hell bent on pinning on her.”

Jens lets loose a bark of
disbelief.

Kellan looks so murderous
that Karl actually reaches out to restrain him. Callie’s right, though. Karl
looks like he’s going to explode from holding whatever he’s thinking back. “Are
you calling me a liar?” Kellan spits out.