A Matter of Heart (28 page)

I might’ve been accused of
spoiling her with toys and dresses that I whip up, but I can’t resist her
smile. Toddler smiles are visual hugs, and worth whatever it takes to elicit
them.

We hike for about an hour;
my breath is shallow, thanks to the altitude, but it’s a good tired. During our
walk, I ply him with questions, just like old times. “This earthquake you’re
going to set off today—”

He cuts me off. “It’s small.
Hardly anything worth getting out of bed over. Just enough to give you wiggle
room to drag a freaking mountain range around.”

I hold my hands out—in my
palms lies a small screen that shows me, monstrously proportioned and standing
in the Indian Ocean, literally shoving the country under the Himalayas.

Karl squints down at it.
“Where am I? Where’s my mighty fist, shaking the world?”

An unladylike snort escapes
me as I insert him into the scene, smaller than me but gifted with a fist
larger than his body.

“That’s more like it.”

I grin up at him. “You
should give it to Em. Let her know just how awesome her godmother is.”

He rolls his eyes but shoves
it into his backpack anyway.

Fifteen minutes later,
Karl’s compass tells us we’re in the right spot. No one else is around—the air
is thin and cool, the wind sharp through the trees, the only sounds around
those of birds and their wings soft upon the skies. I scan around us, marveling
at the majestic beauty of the Himalayas rising through the clouds.

“Ready?” Karl asks.

I nod and find myself a
strong tree to brace against. Karl squats down next to a crop of gray,
weathered rocks and smoothes a clean circle of leaves and debris in the dirt
below him. I watch in fascination at how he treats the moments before he works
with reverence, like he knows just how heavy the weight of his actions are.
That he ensures they come from the right place, with the best of intentions, no
matter how large or small they are.

I am lucky to have him as my
mentor.

Karl closes his eyes and
lets out a breath; when they open, his hand, inches now from the target he’s
created, clenches shut. Those hands of his are weapons of the worst kind. If he
was to hit a person, he could shatter bones into shards. But I’ve seen him with
his daughter, holding her close and wiping away tears. I’ve seen those hands
offer me tissues when I broke down and pull his wife in for a hug when she
outbakes him in a cook-off.

In the grand course of life,
they’re good hands.

His
fist taps the ground, just once. A small ripple radiates out, pressing me back
against rough bark. I wait until my foot falls easily forward and then,
mimicking his reverence, I give appreciation to the land around me. I whisper,
“Thank you,” before I urge it, oh so slowly and gently, to lay to rest under
the giant in front of us.

A half-hour from the
village, Karl lets loose a string of curses under his breath. One of his arms
whips out to block me from moving forward.

We’re the only people on the
trail. A bird screams above us. “What’s going on?”

His head drops close to
mine, his voice tense against my ear. “You don’t hear it?”

I do now. Another scream,
only it’s not a bird.

Karl pulls out his cell
phone, fingers flying across the keypad. An answer beeps in response just as
another shriek sounds in the distance. The screen tilted in my direction tells
me:
40 min out. Get ready.

I scan the area. Woods,
rocks, patches of snow, and dirt surround us. Another scream bursts through the
trees, rattling my teeth.

Adrenaline floods my blood
stream. I’ve been on probably thirty missions in the three months since being
attacked on the Elvin plane, and things have been calm. Why do I keep letting
myself getting lulled into complacency by these things?

Like rats, or influenza, the
Elders always. Come. Back.

We take off at a sprint,
barreling down the uneven path. The keening behind us ebbs and swells, making
it impossible to pinpoint which direction they’ll strike from. Sometimes I
swear they’re coming from my right, then my left, and other times directly
behind me. It’s disorienting, but I shadow Karl closely, believing wholeheartedly
he’ll get us back to the village in time for Raul to swoop in and fly us away.

I can’t allow myself to
think of any other ending.

Out of nowhere, Karl goes
soaring to the left, enveloped by a swath of darkness. I skid to a halt so
quickly I topple into the dirt and gravel, ripping up my knees through newly
ragged denim. But as painful as this is, I’m glad, because an Elder streaks
inches above my head.

I scramble forward, toward
where Karl is pinned on the ground underneath a distorting Elder. Another, the
one who’d missed me by too much yet too little, circles around my friend’s
body, fashioning a brutal tail I’ve seen pulverize bones more than once. “Run!”
Karl growls, his fist trying desperately to connect with the intangible, but I
won’t. Can’t. I refuse to leave behind the man that I view as my brother, my
mentor, the one who’s been more of a father figure than my own sad example for
nearly two decades.

Fire and hydrogen lick above
my bloody palms, swirling into tight, glowing balls. I hurl them at the Elders,
not caring one iota that these were the first Magicals. That some might believe
them worth appreciation and devotion, since they’ve managed to persevere for
millennia even after a long-dead Creator stripped them of almost everything.

Because, in reality, they’re
nothing more than monsters.

When my mini-suns make
contact, the Elders detonate a cacophony of agonized, eardrum shattering
wailing that leaves me nearly deaf. But they’ve retreated long enough for Karl
and me to get to our feet.

He mouths something—I think
it’s
let’s go already,
but bells are ringing throughout my skull. My
brain jiggles as I run, my feet pounding and skidding against the earth, dirt
and wind batter my face, and all I can think of is:
Emily cannot lose her
daddy
. I’ll be damned if another person sent out to protect me gets hurt.

And then . . . I run smack
into Karl, who’s stopped suddenly. Relief tingles my toes: there’s a thin pair
of twisters in front of us.

Raul was never good at
estimating time. Forty minutes my foot!

Karl grabs me and folds me
into his arms, tight against his chest, his head coming down over mine. My
already ringing ears pop a second time when the tornadoes skirt around us; the
only reason I stay on my feet is thanks to Karl’s strength.

Karl lifts my chin skyward;
Raul’s helicopter is in the distance.

Behind us, the Elders are
dodging between the tornadoes. I hope they’re scared shitless. I chase after
Karl, yelling about how we will get to the helicopter, as there isn’t enough
flat ground to land on, but he mouths
ladder
.

It’s just Raul up there, and
I don’t want to risk a moment more on the ground than we have to. A ladder of
my making rappels down, dragging on the dirt. Karl shoves me forward first, and
terror fills me as I grip onto the heavily swaying rope, but I climb. He’s
inches below my feet, and I feel, more than hear, his encouragements to keep
going-going-going as Raul lifts us higher into the air.

I refuse to look down.
Nothing would be more embarrassing then passing out, moments before safety is
achieved.

I slide head and belly first
onto the floor of the chopper. Karl shoves me forward as he climbs in after me.
He somehow manages to rip my ladder off the doorway and tosses it into the
blue.

I scramble towards the open
doorway. The Elders are below, still trapped between the tornadoes. And because
I’m pissed off, my bow and arrow set I’d made last year in the dash to San
Francisco materializes in my hands so I can send off a series of supercharged,
concentrated bombs in their direction.

Karl forces me to look at
him.
It’s over
, he mouths.
Let’s go home
.

As I watch the tornadoes
dissipate in the distance, I can’t help but think he’s wrong. Because it’s not
over. Not by a long shot.

Not until I fulfill my
promise to Earle.

Cora is reveling in what she
considers to be a great victory as she locks me into a bear hug. “See?” she
says to Raul. “I told you she’d come. I’m irresistible when I want to be.”

I squeak from a general lack
of air and she lets go only to grab my hand and pull me through the crowd. She
hollers something, but I cannot hear her. The pulsing music makes my recently
repaired yet still tender eardrums throb. My head aches more than normal.

Being here, in the same
hotel ballroom as last year, is surreal. Very little has changed—the same
twinkle lights consume the ceiling, the same black suede couches litter the
floor, the same trays of saké grace the hands of servers. Images float through
my head, fuzzy ones that seem more like dreams I can’t quite grasp in daylight.

It’s different now
,
Caleb tells me when my anxiety spikes.
Jonah’s here with you this time.
Everything is different.

At a circular bar in the
middle of the room, Cora orders us two virgin margaritas. Being a Shaman, Cora
shies away from alcohol, saying it does too many funky things to a body. “You
are going to enjoy yourself tonight or else,” she warns, swiping a finger-full
of salt to lick.

Jonah and Raul catch up with
us just as the bartender sets a bowl of Gnomish nuts near us. Cora shoves it
back; bowls of nuts are germ factories, she insists. “No Mai Tai?” my boyfriend
teases, and I groan, because I know I won’t be living that episode down anytime
soon.

“You’re evil.” He laughs.
Gods, he’s hot tonight. He’s not even dressed up—Jonah doesn’t do dressed up
often—just a simple royal blue t-shirt that fits him like a dream and jeans
frayed at the hems. He’s totally oblivious to the hungry stares of the girls
around us, which both exasperates and delights me.

Why, oh why, did Jonah have
to listen to my father’s rant about premarital sex? But since that’s off the
table for another four months (oh yes, I’m counting down the days), we
compromise with a kiss that curls my toes and turns the room twenty degrees too
warm for comfort.

“Why are we here again?” he
murmurs, forehead against mine. His heartbeat sprints under my palms. It’s a
feeling I adore.

My words are breathy. “You
insisted.”

His head turns against mine.
“You must be mistaken. Why would I do that when we could be at home, alone
and—”

Raul bumps into us, knocking
us apart. He’s waving his hands around in the air, shouting out a greeting.
“Get a hotel room, why don’t you?” Cora smirks. The smiles on both my and
Jonah’s faces slip slowly away. The moment has been effectively ruined.

I try not to think of a
hotel room, exactly one year before. I reach for Jonah’s hand, to ground
myself. Caleb’s right. Things are different now. Jonah and I are together, and
we’re going to get married, and we’re going to have our happily ever after.
Last year is behind us. He and Callie are over. I made my choice. There will be
no more hotel rooms shared with Kellan again.

I try not to think about how
much that saddens me. And then I get angry because I shouldn’t be upset.

I made my choice. It was the
right choice.

Raul gives Cora a quick kiss
and barrels towards whomever he’d flagged down. She turns to me, grimacing.
“Ugh.”

“Why ugh?” I frown down at
my margarita; it tastes like crap, to be honest. And then we lose Jonah’s
attention, too; some guy I don’t know has him talking sports.

Cora hitches a thumb in
Raul’s direction. “Those guys are bad news.”

I peer into the crowd. It
takes a few moments, but I finally spot Raul. He’s talking to Maccon
Lightningriver and a few other guys I’m only vaguely familiar with.

I abandon my so-called drink.
“How so?”

“Every time he goes out with
them,” she says, “he comes back with a broken bone. Or worse, some kind of
lipstick on his shirt, which he claims was an accident. You know?”