Broken (12 page)

I felt Brokk poking me.

I looked down and he was shaking his head.

“No? I won’t be killed?” I asked him.

He shook his head. He tried motioning something with his hands,
but it was totally lost on me. I looked at Chris. “Do you
speak troll?”

“He’s not a troll,” Chris said. “And,
yes, I can talk to him.”

“There’s no need,” said a voice. Chris whipped
around to see who was there, but I already knew. There was no
mistaking the deep silkiness of that voice. In that moment, a rush
of pain and longing was resurrected. I forced myself to turn,
despite the stinging in my heart.

A man with sandy hair stood in the doorway. He was about a head
taller than Chris with coals for eyes and dimpled cheeks. His elfin
face was still cloaked in beautiful.

My heart jumped out of my chest. I’d hoped not to see him, but
now that I laid eyes on him, it was like I was sixteen all over
again.

“Jonathan,” I whispered. Chris said it with me in
unison, but his tone was a lot less favorable.

I wasn’t sure how Chris knew his name, but somehow it
didn’t matter. A mix of bitter and sweet was pulsing through
my veins.

“Katherine,” Jonathan said. His gaze remained on me
alone. He opened his arms.

I considered leaving him standing there, but my legs decided to
walk over to him of their own accord. His hug was like a warm
duvet.

Chris stepped forward. “Katherine,
he’s—”

“—glad you’re here,” Jonathan said. He
looked over to Aunt Marigold’s body and then approached,
kneeling beside her.

He touched her face, sadness in his own. “Brokk told me
she’d been taken. That’s why I came. We knew this day would
come,” he muttered. “She’d been telling me this
for months.”

“Chris,” I said, “maybe we should give him a
moment alone.”

A single tear slid down Jonathan’s cheek. “Thank you.”

We slipped through the door, leaving Jonathan to his mourning.
Unsure of what to do, we walked towards the gates, listening for
the sounds of sirens and searching for signs of the golden-haired
woman.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Chris said.

I nodded. He was right. I felt guilty for wanting to leave. It
felt dishonest. Yet that self-preservation gene was giving me a
kick in the backside that I knew I needed to listen to. I couldn’t
stay here.

“A couple of minutes won’t hurt,” I said.

We stood there watching the trees, listening.

“Where will I go?” I finally asked. It was starting
to eat at me.

“Brokk says there’s another safe house. It used
to be your family’s old home.”

“Where?” I asked.

“Southeast. It’s going to take us a few days to get
there. We’ll have to walk.”

“Unless Jonathan has a car,” I said.

“Even if he did, we can’t take it. The
roads are unsafe. And it won’t take long for the police to figure
out who we are and start looking for us. We’re better off
taking the less common routes for now. And it’s easy enough
to pretend we’re tourists hiking across the
country.”

“But won’t she find me once I step outside those
gates?”

“No,” said that silken voice behind us. With Brokk
on his shoulder, Jonathan approached. His eyes were red.
“Marigold had a brooch that kept her safe for a few days at a
time. That should protect you long enough for us to get you to your family
home.”

“Protect me?”

“Well, more like hide you. Those with fey sight
won’t be able to see you.”

“What about you?” I asked Chris.

“Oh, I’m half human. I’ll be able to see
you.” He looked at Jonathan. “And what’s this
about
us
?”

“I’m coming with you,” Jonathan said. The
dimpled grin I had once loved was lighting up his face.

Chapter 15

Chris didn’t look pleased about Jonathan coming with us.
“How can we trust you?” he said. “You show up
just after Marigold dies, and we’re almost killed? How
convenient.”

Jonathan didn’t look fazed. “Think what you want,
but Marigold knew this day would come. It wasn’t really a
surprise.”

Sirens sounded in the distance. It killed any argument that
might have happened between the two, and we darted into the house.
“Where’s this brooch?” I asked.

Jonathan ran over to a little wooden box, the same kind as the
one I had. He reached inside and grabbed an ugly old-lady brooch
with a dark red stone. I recognized it instantly. My Aunt had worn
it on a trip into town that summer. He pinned it to my shirt with
care, winking at me.

We were starting to flee out the door when I stopped.

“What about Brokk?” I said.

Jonathan waved me off, and headed to the back of the garden,
towards the trees. I followed with Chris taking up the rear.

“He’ll be fine,” Chris said.

We reached another gate at the back, hidden amongst the foxglove.
Jonathan opened it, and I hesitated to step out, my foot
wavering.

“Come on!” Jonathan said.

Chris put his hand on my shoulder. “It’s all right,
Katherine. We’ll protect you.”

I looked at him. I wasn’t so sure he’d be able to.
And as for Jonathan, he had the same mischievous look I remembered
as a teenager. I wasn’t sure I could trust what he said about
this red bauble that was dangling from my shirt.

The sirens were getting louder.

Jonathan offered his hand. “Trust me,” he said, as
if reading my mind. “Marigold used this and she was
fine.”

“Yeah, but now she’s dead.”

He shook his head. “Marigold was old and her time had
come. Trust me, the charm will get you where you need to go, but
we’ll need to hurry.”

I nodded my head and took his hand. It was hot.

He pulled me forward, and we ran.

We sprinted between trees and down a gently sloping hill. We
dodged overgrown shrubs and roots that threatened to trip us.
Finally Jonathan slowed us down as we reached the stone wall of an
old sheep farm. He retrieved a walking stick for each of us from
the woods.

“Take these,” he said. “We need to look like
tourists.”

It seemed to make sense. I took the shortest of the three while I caught my breath. When
Chris took his I noticed he carried both of our packs over his
shoulders.

I took mine from him. “Thanks,” I said.

We then began the trek, avoiding human activity as much as
possible.

A part of me was feeling like a fugitive. The other part of me
was somewhat relieved to be moving. Although I hadn’t been in
the house for long, the notion I could have been trapped there had
bothered me – safe or not.

I glanced at Chris.

He caught me looking at him and winked. I had to turn away. I
wasn’t sure if I was still angry with him or not. He claimed
he hadn’t charmed me into bed, but something wasn’t
right there. At the time it had felt like I had chosen to do it. I
had hungered for it, but as I let it brew in my mind I suppose I’d
acted a little rash. It had all happened so fast. Too fast.

I shook my head. I needed to think about something else for now,
so I caught up to Jonathan. I had other questions that were burning
a hole through my mind.

I took stride next to him, which was challenging since his legs,
although large like Chris’s were long. I could keep his pace
if pressed, but I wasn’t sure for how long.

As if knowing, he slowed.

“Am I going too fast?” he asked.

I nodded. “A little.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m not used to
traveling with others.”

“You do this a lot? Walking the countryside?”

Chris caught up, but remained behind us.

Jonathan smiled. “Marigold asked me to fetch things all
the time. Although she could leave for a few days, she never liked
leaving for more than a few hours at a time.”

I never really thought about what his relationship with her was,
but now that I thought of it, I had better ask, just to be sure.

“You’re not her son, are you?”

He laughed. “No. But she pretty much raised me. She said
a woman had begged her to raise me from almost an infant.
She was in danger, and she’d wanted her child to be
safe. The woman said she would come back for me one day, but she
never did. I was always welcome in Marigold’s home, and over
the years I grew to be able to help her.”

I stopped
to reach into my pack and pulled out a carved figurine, handing
it to him. “I still have the little fox you gave me.” I wasn’t sure what had made me bring it. Maybe, somehow,
I had actually hoped to see him again.

The dimples in his cheeks were huge as he smiled. “Wow, I
remember this,” he said, running his fingers over it. He handed it
back. “You kept it after all these years? And you brought
it?”

Chris took stride next to me. “I hate to break up this
little trip down memory lane, but we need to keep moving.” He
looked at Jonathan. “We don’t need you. We have the
brooch. You can go now.”

Jonathan’s mischievous eyes lit up. “But the charm
doesn’t work without me.”

Chris didn’t look like he was buying it. “What are
you talking about?”

“It’s a blood charm. It’s my blood in the
stone.” He looked at me. “That’s how your Aunt
was able to make visits into town. She took me with her.”

I knew something was a little odd about Jonathan traveling with
Aunt Marigold every time she left the cottage. Then it hit me.

I side-stepped a protruding root along the path in front of us
and stopped. “Your
blood
? What the heck is that
about?”

Jonathan had that look like he’d been caught saying
something he hadn’t meant to — his face got all
contorted, like he wanted to take back his words.

Chris jumped in immediately. “He’s a
Nymph.”

“A what?” I said.

“A Nymph,” Chris repeated. “That woman that left him with Marigold wasn’t human.”

You’ve got to be shitting me.

I couldn’t believe this. The two men I had fallen the
hardest for in my life weren’t human? This was getting way
too weird. What was next? Jonathan wasn’t really seventeen
when I met him, but over a hundred years old instead?

Jonathan shrugged. “Well, the cat’s out of that bag,
isn’t it?”

“What the hell is a Nymph?” I asked. Then I turned
on Chris. “And for that matter, what are
you
?”

“I told you,” he said. “I’m a
Changeling.”

“Half-breed,” Jonathan muttered with disdain.

“But half what?” I asked. I was starting to lose it. “Can someone please fill me in on what’s going on around here? My life is going all Twilight on me and I have no idea what
I’m getting into. And when you’ve finished initiating me into this little fantasy world, I need to know who the hell
this woman is that wants me dead.”

“Morgana?” Jonathan asked.

“Oh, she has a name?” I said. “Well
that’s progress. Now who is she? And what does she
want?”

“She’s one of the Winter Court — Dark Faeries.
She was once one of the Summer Court, but I heard she was cast
out.”

“And why does she want me dead?”

“I don’t know,” Jonathan said. “No one
knows. Marigold tried for years to learn.” He started
walking, like he decided he was finished with the conversation.
“Let’s keep moving. We have a house to get to,
right?”

It seemed a bit flippant.

Chris stood his ground. “How do we know we can trust
you?”

I could feel control slipping from me again. There was too much
happening here. Too many questions, and I took it out on Chris.

“And how do I know I can trust
you
?” I snapped. He
looked wounded at the words. His mouth opened, but nothing came
out. “You were supposed to be my friend, but you’ve been
worming your way into my life for a year, trying to literally charm
my pants off. Well, you finally succeeded. You got what you wanted,
and you got me here like you were told to. So tell me why I need
you here and why I should trust
you
?”

Again, his mouth twitched, but not much came out. Then, he
finally gathered his composure. “I never meant to hurt you,
Katherine. And I never charmed you into bed. I swear it.”

Jonathan snorted.

Somehow I wanted to believe him, but I wasn’t sure if I
could. It was too plausible he had done it. The implications of
that were starting to make my blood boil.

Sadly, I felt like I needed him. I couldn’t be alone with Jonathan. I barely knew him, at
least,
this
Jonathan. I’d felt like I had known him inside and out
that summer. But for all I knew, he could do the very same thing as
Chris did, and I’d be some plaything of his.

And what the hell was a Nymph anyway?

That made me realize I didn’t want to be alone with either
of them.

I didn’t say anything further. I turned on my heel and
marched along the trail.

The walk through the rolling hills was invigorating, something I
needed. I just focused on the walk, trying to put distance between
me and Aunt Marigold’s house while attempting to temporarily
put the two men — or whatever they were — who trailed
me out of my head.