Magic Binds (20 page)

“I would kill myself.”

No doubt in her big brown eyes. Nothing except complete devotion.

“You wouldn't go back to my father?”

“I would be killed. I wouldn't be useful any longer. But if I had no choice, I would return to Sharrum.”

I had to walk her back to civilization if it was the last thing I did.

“Why don't you like me, Sharrim?” she asked in a small voice. “I'm not the highest rated, but I've trained the hardest. I'm diligent.”

“I don't dislike you, Adora. I don't want to use you because people shouldn't be used. People should follow their own paths in life.”

“But I want to serve you. That's the only way I can get into heaven.”

When we stood over Jene's body, Ascanio had said that Deputy Holland's identity was wrapped up in being in law enforcement. But Holland didn't grow up being a law enforcement officer. He likely had friends outside the sheriff's office, family members, people he went to high school with. A whole net of people to catch him if he stumbled. Adora had no one. She grew up as sahanu. That was the only thing she knew. She'd lost her family and devoted her whole life to being the best assassin she could be because my father assured her she would get to heaven.

I would have to shatter that belief. I would have to explain to her that everything she had done, all the training she worked so hard on, all the lives she took were in the name of a lie. It would be like taking a lifelong devout Christian and showing them irrefutable proof that God didn't exist. Her whole world would collapse. I spared her life and now I would have to dismantle everything she'd held as truth for the last seventeen years. It wasn't just cruel. It would be devastating. It would crush her. It would've been kinder to kill her.

I looked at her and my insides churned. I hadn't spared her because I was impressed with her skills or because I thought she was worth saving. I hadn't saved her because I saw myself in her. I'd saved her because I wanted to send a big loud “Fuck You” to my father. Him sending her into my territory offended me. It made me angry in a way I hadn't been angry for a very long time.

Deep down, if I listened to the voice inside me, I wanted to march into his castle, crush him, and take every scrap of land he owned. It wouldn't be enough to win. I wanted to humiliate him and take his land. To hoard it like a dragon.

What the hell was happening to me?

“Are you well, Kate?” Adora asked.

I was a piece of shit. She was a person, an actual real human being, and I had decided to play God with her life. When I had a chance to turn her into a slave, I stopped because I recognized that Curran wouldn't like it. I should've stopped because it was the wrong thing to do. Because I didn't make slaves.

“Kate?”

How could I have gone so far? How do I fix this? If I went any further down this road, Adora would be the first of many.

“Kate? Are you sick?”

No. I had to find whatever it was that made me
me
and hold on to it. And I owed it to Adora to tell her the complete truth as gently as I could. I would need help. I would have to go very slowly. Baby steps.

“Adora, what is it you like to do? When you're not working for my father, I mean. When you have free time.”

“I don't know,” she said.

“What is your favorite food?”

“Candy.”

Okay. Candy I could do. “I'm going to travel for a couple of days. I'd like you to stay here and recuperate, so the doctors can continue to treat your wounds. My Herald will come and check on you. Let her know if you need anything. However, if you don't want to stay here and want to leave, you don't need my permission. You are not a prisoner. If my father's agents contact you, you don't have to go back with them, but you can if you want to. It's your choice. Okay?”

“Okay.”

I'd almost made it to the door when she called, “Kate?”

“Yes?”

“You will come back for me?”

“Yes.”
If I don't die.

“And then I will be useful, yes?”

“Yes.” I would go straight to hell. When I died, a hole would open under my feet and I would shoot right down there.

I walked to the waiting area and stopped by the cashier. “I'd like to pay for the next week.”

She gave me a number. I pulled out my wallet, took out a check—I'd learned to always keep a couple in there, folded in half—and wrote it out. I added fifty bucks to the check and pointed to the little gift shop and bakery behind me. “Also, I would like a small bag of each kind of candy you have brought to her.”

“If her doctor says it's okay.”

“Let her have the candy.” Knowing how thorough my father was with his tools, Adora would likely heal fast.

I'm about to destroy your world, here is some candy. Ugh.

Teddy Jo stood up and we walked outside. “Who is she?”

“Were you listening in?”

“It's only a few feet down the hallway and I have sharp hearing.”

“She's what happens when my father wants a weapon who never questions him. She also might be the biggest mistake I've ever made.” I climbed into the swing.

“I'm sure it's not that bad,” he said.

It was bad. Sooner or later I would have to explain it to Curran, too. We didn't keep secrets from each other. We talked. Given a chance, I would explain what Adora was and convince him she wasn't a slave. Curran loved me more than anyone I'd ever known. He would hear me out. That wasn't what stopped me. If I let him see Adora, he would ask me why I didn't kill her. I couldn't lie to him. I would have to tell him everything, about my father, about wanting to take his land, about watching Adora bleed and puzzling over sealing her into service as if she were an object to be owned.

I didn't want him to know how far into the dark I went. It scared me when I thought about it.

I did it. I owned it. Like it or not, I would have to deal with it after I came back from Mishmar. If I came back.

“I'll need to stop by a smithy,” I murmured, and realized I'd said it out loud. “Sorry, was talking to myself.”

“They have medicine for that.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“You're welcome. Why do you need to stop by a smithy?”

“To buy powdered iron.”

•   •   •

I
SAT ON
the back porch outside, waiting for Teddy Jo. The sky was black and deep. A spray of glittering stars shone from above. The night breathed.

I'd stopped by the Guild and talked to Curran. He'd put a team together for Saiman's rescue. The Pack shared what they had learned scouting and Curran did manage to find a merc with the ability to communicate long distance. They called her a mouse witch and I found her sitting in Barabas's office, with two bats hanging off her clothes, a squirrel on her shoulder, and a tiny owl in her hands. Tonight the owl and the bats would fly to the castle and attempt to find Saiman. If they did, she would be able to talk to him though them.

I told Curran about my meeting with Chernobog. He told me about Christopher. The moment the magic wave ended, his wings disappeared and he stopped struggling. They pulled him out of the ground. He picked up Maggie and went back to his house. Barabas tried to talk to him, but Christopher curled up in his hammock, hugged his dog, and refused to communicate. Barabas stayed home to watch over him.

I'd hugged Curran and kissed him good-bye. He kept asking me nonsense questions. He didn't want me to go. I didn't want to go either, but eventually I had to leave to gather my things.

I stopped by the smithy and bought a pound of powdered iron. Legends existed for a reason.

At home I called Jim and asked him to have the remains ready tonight, in three hours or so. He said he would.

I made a call to Martina and explained about Adora. I didn't sugarcoat it. She said she would talk to her and she wanted me to come and have dinner with her as soon as I could. I promised I would. Then I talked to Julie about it. She would check on Adora while I was gone.

I'd packed some clothes, jerky, nuts, and bread to last me a couple of days into a backpack. I took two canteens and a roll of toilet paper. Considering
the excursions Voron used to send me on, my supplies made me feel downright pampered. There was nothing left to do but wait.

Teddy Jo was taking his time.

The noise of the back gate opening made me turn. Christopher walked out from behind the house and came to sit next to me.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hi.” He smiled. It was the same shy smile I was used to seeing on his face. Like shaking hands with an old friend. But his eyes no longer had that faraway dreamy look, as if he were seeing things that nobody else could see.

“Where is Barabas?”

“He fell asleep,” Christopher said. “We had a long day.”

“You're up late.” Small talk with the god of terror.

“I'm coming with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I've been useless for too long.”

Oh boy. Not the useless thing again. “Christopher, Teddy Jo will be taking me.”

“I won't fight with him again.”

“Your wings disappeared with the magic. The tech is still up. I don't think he can carry us both.”

Red smoke spiraled out of his shoulders and the massive wings snapped open.

Right.

“Everyone was tired out from fighting me,” he said. “All of them wanted to be reassured that I wouldn't snap again.”

“So you pretended to lose your powers when the magic wave ended?”

“It was the considerate thing to do. I've been so privileged to have people worry for me that I've forgotten what it's like to have people afraid of me.”

“We weren't afraid. We were worried.”

“The part of me that is Deimos knows fear, intimately. Barabas was afraid. He was so afraid that his fear shone like a beacon.”

“Barabas will adjust. I don't think he was afraid of you, Christopher. I think he was afraid for you. I was, too. I didn't want to lose you.”

Christopher nodded.

“Is everything okay between you and Barabas?”

He looked into the distance. “Things are complicated at the moment. Before, I wasn't in my right mind. Now he doesn't know who I am.”

Who are you, Christopher?
“What about you? How do you feel about it?”

“I love him.”

I wished I knew what to say.

“There is something in your backpack,” he said. “It keeps tugging on me.”

I reached into my bag and pulled out a small mason jar with a tiny yellow spark in it. “Hold this for a second.”

“What's this?”

“It's a flare moth.” I dug some more in my bag. “When you release it, it flies up and the higher it flies, the brighter it is. Here. Is this it?” I fished out a simple yellow apple and offered it to him.

He took it gingerly from my hand and held it up. “The apple of immortality. Where did you get this?”

“Funny story. Teddy Jo dropped them off one night out of the blue. He said he didn't know what to do with them and he was pretty sure I could handle them given my family history. I made them into a pie I was going to feed to Curran on our big date. I'd lost a bet to him and promised to serve him dinner naked.”

Christopher smiled.

“He stood me up. It wasn't his fault, but I didn't know it at the time and I was really pissed off, so I trashed the food and I buried the pie.”

“Buried?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time. I had enough apples left to make Curran another pie later. Anyway, a few months after that I came back to my house near Savannah and found a brand-new apple tree. I talked to Teddy Jo about it and we decided that the apples were way too dangerous to leave unattended, so we dug out the tree and he replanted it by his cabin. He brings me apples every time some grow. He says the tree wants him to do it.”

“Have you eaten them?”

I nodded. “So far no immortality. But they do make a killer jam if you add some lemon peel. I thought the pegasi would appreciate them.”

He gave the apple back to me and laughed quietly.

I held out my hand. “Kate Daniels, daughter of Nimrod the Builder of Towers, Guardian of Atlanta.”

He looked at my hand and then took it with his long slender fingers. “Christopher Steed, twenty-second Legatus of the Golden Legion, god of terror.”

We shook.

“Legatus of the Golden Legion.” I whistled. If a Master of the Dead was especially gifted, he was selected to join the Golden Legion, the elite of the elite among my father's navigators. The Legatus led them, the same way Hugh used to lead my father's soldiers. The Legatus answered directly to my father.

“I climbed to power,” Christopher said. “It wasn't given to me; I excelled and took it. I have . . . regrets.”

We all have regrets. “Let me tell you about my friend. His name is Christopher. He thinks he could fly if only he remembered how. Turns out he can. He's kind and gentle. He tries to help even when things are difficult and he's terrified. He once went into Mishmar to rescue me. He takes care of his little dog and he tries to cook for Barabas, because we all know that Barabas is awful in the kitchen.”

“He isn't . . . Yes, he is.”

“That's the only Christopher I know. I never met the Legatus of the Golden Legion. No desire to meet him.” I looked at him. “It doesn't matter what you were. It matters what you are now.”

“You forgot one title in your introduction,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Kate Daniels, daughter of Nimrod the Builder of Towers, Guardian of Atlanta. Savior of Christopher.”

“Don't,” I told him.

“I would've died in that cage.”

“My father shattered your mind and tortured you. I tried to correct his wrong.”

“Nimrod didn't shatter my mind. I shattered it myself.” Christopher looked up at the night sky and a shadow of something vicious crossed his
face. “I was the most powerful Legatus on record. One night your father invited me to dinner and made me a proposal: he had developed a way to implant a deity into a human host. The process had some limitations. The deity had to be well known enough to have a distinct presence, but not self-aware enough to interfere with the human host's ego. It had to have almost no followers, so the host's will would not be affected. The human had to have a vast reserve of natural magic, enough to sustain and feed the deity's powers. He compared it to standing in the middle of a storm and absorbing all of its fury into yourself. Such a person, he said, would surpass both the Legatus and the Preceptor of his Iron Dogs. He would truly be his second-in-command. He was very persuasive.”