Billow (18 page)

If you thought someone was a backstabber, you'd be less likely to confide in them. The more loyal and considerate, the more likely you'd be to tell important secrets.

"But it's obvious what kind of person Marisol is." I walked back and waved my hand to clear the smoke. "You see the stunts she pulls on the show. How could anyone think different?"

"Because it may not be true for Marisol. She might consider your view of her actions as false."

Nexa lit up a cigarette. Smoke curled around her. "She may define her true self as someone who's doing what it takes to survive. Maybe this is the only way she knows how to get through life."

"Then she's lying to herself," I scoffed.

"An interesting statement." Long, silver hair flowed like a waterfall behind her. "Lies are falsehoods that can hurt and harm others. But very often, the most detrimental lies are the ones we tell ourselves."

Maybe it was better to keep the discussion on the characters from the show.

"So Rick stays with Marisol because he sees something different in her?"

"Maybe what he believes to be true about her is worth staying for." She tapped her cigarette against the ashtray. "You, Marisol, Rick. Everybody sees what they believe to be true. Who is right?"

The question reminded me of Ian's shy smile. I trusted him because of the things I knew about him. His kindness, intelligence, and genuineness. All these things were true.

Others, like Gabe and some of the gardinels, didn't trust him because he was a nix. Which was also true.

But if we prevented the auction from happening, it'd convince elementals nixes like Ian and his group weren't a threat.

Nexa was right. The things we believed as true or false were subjective and could always change.

"Truth, on the other hand, is absolute." Nexa blew out another ring of smoke. "Unchanging and objective. Truth is the rock within the river of what is true."

She peered at me. "As Empaths, this distinction is important. When our Virtue touches the essence of a person, do we sense the truth or what is true?"

"The truth," I replied without hesitation.

"So we sense something that doesn't change?"

I thought about her question a bit more carefully.

"No, it changes." Even during the few seconds I reached into someone, emotions could alter. "People feel different things at different times."

"Which means we sense what's true in that instance, in that given moment in time." She paused. "Do you think or feel things the same way as you did when you were six?"

"Of course not."

"Why is that?"

"Because I'm not six anymore."

A long ash gently dropped off her glowing cigarette tip onto the table. I wiped it off before it added to the grey spots already dotting the sleeve of her blouse.

"Our experiences and knowledge influence who we are. Who we become." She stared up at the ceiling. Her voice grew softer. "Life is not static. It flows forward from the moment we are born until the day we pass. And as we change, so does what we hold to be true within ourselves."

I always thought what Empath sensed was an indication of who a person really was. But Nexa pointed out an important flaw in that theory.

Emotions always changed. How I felt about things even an hour ago could shift depending on circumstances.

I leaned back. "But doesn't our Virtue show something about who a person really is?"

After all, my magic was one of the most reliable ways to spot a liar.

"In a certain sense," she answered slowly. "What we feel and experience affects what we think is true. And what we think is true affects what we feel and experience. It's a continuous balance."

It was kind of like putting together a puzzle. Empath could sense a person's feelings at a certain moment in time.

But to figure out what it said about the person, I had to piece together the bigger picture by connecting and arranging those feelings into context.

"You're saying we can determine what's true within us?"

She nodded. "We carve the path of our river through the things we hold to be true."

What she said implied there was a choice. But I didn't have one.

I'd had no say in becoming the
sondaleur
. There was nothing I could do but accept it. So how could I carve my own path?

If anything, it was the other way around. Being the
sondaleur
dictated what happened to me. It completely altered the course of my life. It was outside my control.

Nexa stubbed out her cigarette. "Has your Virtue ever sensed anything static? Something that always remains the same?"

There was only one thing I'd ever felt like that.

"Aquidae."

That emptiness didn't shift. Didn't flow. Didn't change from one moment to the next.

Nexa's attention remained on my face. I forced myself to relax.

"It stays the same because they're no longer alive. Living beings always have the fluidity of what is true. The Aquidae remain in an unnatural state. Something that shouldn't be."

Wrinkled fingers grabbed the half-empty bottle of scotch. "Sometimes we don't believe in what's true within us. We don't trust what flows and we make the wrong choices in what to hold on to."

Discomfort spread.

"What happens when we cling to that which should be let go of?" She poured herself another drink. "Hardening and turning to stone that which should naturally ebb and flow?"

The questions circled me like a noose.

"I don't know."

"We thwart the natural movement of life. Artificial shorelines, dams, and other barriers of lies stop the river of what is true." She took a slow sip. "The path becomes muddied. It becomes impossible to tell what is true and false within us."

Her voice deepened. "We lose sight of who we are. The natural balance crumbles and it becomes dangerous."

I focused on keeping my expression blank.

There was nothing muddied about my path.

I was the
sondaleur
. My only purpose was to end this war. Aquidae were evil demons and they needed to be stopped.

It was black and white. Clear as day.

The why always matters
.

Nexa's gaze turned expectant. My eyes shifted to the pile of snacks in the corner.

"You visited the hospital," she abruptly said. "What did you think of the place?"

The sudden change in subject put me on guard.

"It was a hospital." I had no idea what she was getting at. "Full of sick people."

"That bothers you."

"Being surrounded by sickness is not my idea of a good time."

"Naida was a patient at that hospital. Did you think she was weak?"

The question took me aback. The idea of my mother being weak…well, it was laughable.

"No." I frowned. "She was tough. Strong."

I stared at my hands and felt a strange envy. A part of me always wondered if I'd ever have Naida Irisavie's strength.

"In what way?" Nexa probed.

"She endured a lot of pain." I remembered the forlorn sterility of her cell. "She willed herself through it, so she could do the things she needed to."

"Hmmm." She picked up another cigarette and the click of the lighter sounded as sharp as a gunshot. "You think she was strong because she lived with pain."

"What else would you call it?"

She waved her hand aimlessly in the air. "Just thinking aloud, dear. But was it really about enduring the pain? Or accepting it?"

"Same thing."

"Is it?" She exhaled a deep ring of smoke and took another sip. "I don't believe Naida went to the hospital to bear through the pain. I think she went to heal. She went because she understood her limitations and accepted she needed time to recover."

"You make her sound weak."

Nexa slammed the glass down and her voice sharpened. "Part of being strong means acknowledging when we are weak."

I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. Talking to Nexa often made me feel like I'd repeatedly bashed my head against the wall.

My mother spent the first sixteen years of my life making sure I understood weakness was an unacceptable trait. It was a contradiction that didn't belong in the same sentence as strength.

"Naida respected her magic. She knew it was a tremendous gift," she continued. "It's a gift you have been overusing."

Her dismissive, judgmental tone rubbed me the wrong way.

"But this was what I worked so hard on!"

"You believe this is the only way. That this is the right way of using your magic."

"Yes." I crossed my arms.

"Kind of like Marisol believes manipulating others is the only way to live her life." She calmly took another sip of scotch. "Didn't you say she was being selfish?"

I couldn't decide what offended me more. That she thought the
sondaleur
was selfish or that I was like a busty, middle-aged, four-time divorcee from a soap opera.

"You're saying I'm like Marisol?" My voice rose in incredulity.

She stared. "Are you?"

What?

"No!"

I couldn't believe it. I'd accepted a role I hadn't wanted or expected and sacrificed everything for it.

Denied myself a normal life. Ignored all the aches and wants that constantly ripped me up.

"I'm doing everything possible to live up to the responsibilities of
sondaleur
." Barely leashed anger underscored the words.

"So you chased after an Aquidae in the Trident and two more in Lyondale on your own to protect elementals?"

My jaw tightened. I wasn't going to dignify that with a response.

"Protection is an act of selflessness, Kendra. But vengeance is the ultimate act of selfishness."

Enough was enough.

"What's the big deal?" I snapped. "I eliminated two more of those nasty demons. If I'd gotten my hands on the one in the Trident, it'd be gone, too. This is war."

"So the result justifies the means?"

"You're putting words into my mouth —"

"Would you have gotten the same result without your Virtue?"

My mouth snapped shut. For some reason, the question embarrassed me.

"No." I faltered slightly. "I need the magic."

I needed as much advantage as I could get. As much control and power as possible.

I couldn't screw up. There was so much riding on being the
sondaleur.

If I failed again, nothing would keep those dark, razor-sharp shadows from eating me alive.

Nexa wouldn't let it go. "Do you think it's right to use Virtue on your friends and others when you don't need it?"

"I'm doing my job," I insisted.

"All of us who use magic have a relationship with it." Her voice slightly softened. "And there are limits. The balance within ourselves. The balance in our relationships with others. A balance that must be maintained so it doesn't become dysfunctional."

Her irises swirled, darkening to storm-colored clouds. "What happens when you take too much water without replacing it? What happens to a lake if we constantly drain it, but there is no rain?"

My stomach lurched. "It runs dry."

She nodded. "That is what you're doing to the river of what is true."

A shiver raced down my spine.

On one side was the suffocating fear and panic. As soon as I got that in control, the ravenous rage and hate rose.

How could I restore a balance I didn't understand? How could I shift a life outside my control?

I didn't understand what everyone expected from the
sondaleur
.

Nexa clicked the remote and the blare of the television suddenly filled the room.

Her eyes focused on the screen. "Finding what's true means letting go of the lies that control."

The quietly spoken words filled me with inexplicable dread.

FIFTEEN

The leather encased my leg like a second skin. With a final tug, I zipped it up.

Satisfied, I looked down at the ensemble. Soft, dark green cashmere dress played up my eyes. Draped flatteringly across curves, it ended just above the knee. Knee-high boots made my legs appear longer and kept them warm for whatever the night held in store.

Carefully applied make-up concealed the rings under my eyes and long, thick hair fell to my waist.

Dressy, but not over the top. Like the outfit I'd worn to the Silk bar, it was a suit of armor.

I was never sure what to expect with Julian. But whatever he was up to, I was prepared for it.

The knock came and I straightened. I lost the bet fair and square. It was only for a few hours and then it'd be over.

Steeling myself, I opened the door.

He leaned against the doorjamb, his hair slightly mussed as if he'd rolled out of bed.

All-black attire emphasized the startling blue of his eyes. A soft knit sweater clung to his chest and drew attention to smooth skin. Wool pants accentuated lean abs and hips. Everything he wore was custom made to show off his sculpted body.

Fine. He looked good. Damn it.

Julian took his time. Eyes glinted with appreciation as they lazily ran over me from head to toe.

All right. He had his fill.

"My eyes are up here," I muttered.

Lips slowly curved. "You look absolutely tantalizing, sweet iris."

"You told me to dress up." I didn't want him getting any ideas.

His voice turned seductive. "And I plan on enjoying the view."

I suppressed a long-suffering sigh. My night of torture was just beginning.

Glimmering night enfolded us in a cloak of cold moonlight. We walked down the street leading away from the Academy.

"Are you finally telling me where we're going?"

"It's around the corner."

A familiar sight greeted us. "Rivière?"

The cafe was brightly lit. Relieved, I recognized a few school gardinels and chevaliers through the window. Some kind of party was going on and it definitely wasn't Redavi.

"Happy?"