The Danger of Destiny (29 page)

Silently, I ran a line of sludge along the edge of his waistband.

Trowbridge tensed his belly muscles until his navel stretched into a taut smile. Victim to gravity and the lack of love handles, his cutoffs slid so low they were admirably indecent. “It won't take long. And I won't leave you if you're—”

“I'm not scared.”

And I wasn't … much. I just didn't like being parted from him again. On the other hand, I respected his instincts. If they were saying,
Danger, Will Robinson,
then we should be on alert. And taking the whole crew for a look-see—the slow-moving Gatekeeper, the noisy pony—would defeat the purpose of Trowbridge's scouting mission.

I gave him an ass-pat. “Done. Turn around; I'll do your face.” He pivoted and bent his neck so that I could reach his face. He'd rinsed off the old layer after drinking. His skin was still slick. He looked like a cover model who'd been artfully disarranged.
Beautiful, beautiful man.
I started at the bridge of his long nose. “What if you walked into something?”

A posse of Faes. A group of hunters. A pack of wild boars.

“Same deal as before, Tink,” he said, trying not to move his lips as I took swipes at the grooves bracketing his mouth. “The Fae might rough me up, but they won't kill me. They'll take me to the castle.”

My fingers paused.

He touched my chin gently with his knuckle. “If I do get captured,” he said softly, “I'll be expecting you to come rescue me.”

My gaze jerked to meet his fierce blue eyes. “What? Again?”

A lopsided smile from the man wearing the mud mask. “As often as it takes.” He reached to draw me to him, then stalled, grimacing at his mired palms. He took a rueful step backward. “Tink, I swear I'll be back within a half hour.”

A foot separated us and I already missed him. “I have no watch.”

“See that tree?” he asked, pointing to the tallest fir to the west. “If I'm not back before the sun sinks behind it, you come find me.”

I closed the gap, winding my arms around his slick neck. “Deal.”

He pulled my hips to his and grinned down at me. “I'm going to kiss you now.”

I smiled as his mud paws came up to cup my jaw. “Just out of curiosity, are all your kisses going to come with advance notices?”

He lowered his head until my lips could feel the warm flow of his breath. “It builds up anticipation.”

“Trowbridge,” I whispered, “you had me with the cutoff jeans.”

“Geezus,” he murmured against my mouth, “you're easy.”

“Keep that in mind.”

He didn't slide his fingers through my hair, and I didn't plaster myself to his body. There was an audience: I could feel Lexi's penetrating gaze piercing my back. There was slime: the aesthetics of mud wrestling will forever be a mystery to me. And there was a sense of d
é
j
à
vu.

How many good-bye forever kisses can you do in the space of two days?

Our lips touched and melded. I tasted him (salty and somewhat muddy) and he supped from me (salty and less muddy) and the passion that was always there, ready to flare between us, was nothing but a gentle promise.

Later.

Please, Goddess. Let us have some laters.

His gaze swept over my features, lingering on my mouth, then moved beyond me to my brother. I would have bet my last dollar that silent communication between my mate and bro was never going to happen (with the possible exception of
fuck you
and
fuck you back
), but as their gazes locked I re-formed my opinion.

Trowbridge lifted his chin in a question.

“What?” I said, my eyes moving from mate to twin.

Lexi answered with a slow, silent nod.

My guy squeezed my shoulders. “Be back soon.”

“Do that.” I smothered a smile watching him leave. The seat of his cutoffs sported a perfect handprint.

Mine.

*   *   *

A watched pot never boils. Unless of course, you're on the phone with the cable company and then the sucker suddenly foams over between one automated command prompt and the next, creating crud on your stove's elements.

Similarly, the sun seemed frozen in the sky. The lower edge was almost, but not quite, touching the tall spire of the fir in the west. It felt like it had been there, poised to sink, forever.

Hurry up, Trowbridge.

I paced by the Gatekeeper, pointedly ignoring her fulminating glare.

“Mutt,” Lexi snapped at Mouse, “if you're so worried about your satchel, why don't you unhook it from the saddle and take it elsewhere?”

Shrugging off his braces, Lexi waded out of the stream.

Mouse moved protectively in front of Seabiscuit. Something, I realized now, that my mutt-pal had been doing ever since we left the rock—keeping himself between Lexi and the sun potion. “There's two bottles and an empty,” Mouse replied, his chin lifted, his tone steady. “And I'll smash them all before I let you have them.”

“Why?” Lexi took a seat on a nearby log.

Mouse's gaze flicked to me, then to the tall fir.

Lexi sighed and shucked off his gray shirt. “Out of curiosity, how would you plan to stop me?” He balled up his shirt and bent over his feet to dry them. “With your magic? Or perhaps your brawn?” He lifted his head to study Mouse. “Now you're silent. Except for your body language, and that's talking louder than your mouth. You're as proud as a Fae coming from a whore's room. You stole three bottles of the juice from the store master's locked room. Quite the thief,” he drawled.

“Except I can't steal magic, now can I? Not like some who have no talent of their own.”

Lexi's smile was chilling. “Never forget that you've already served your purpose. Or that you have no gifts to offer us other than what we already have with the Gatekeeper.”

“Mouse, take Seabiscuit into the shade.” I waited until my would-be defender did—reluctance stamped on his thin shoulders—then went to the stream to rinse my hands. The water clouded, the silt swirling around my digits.

“Nice,” I murmured. “Was that necessary?”

Lexi shook out his shirt with a snap. “The boy shows his hand too easily. In the Fae's world, those with power rule; those without serve. A servant has to be smarter than his master. He needs to weigh the risks of his choices before he acts. I'm surprised he hasn't already been checked and checked hard. You shouldn't encourage him.”

“It's a moot point, isn't it? Mouse isn't going back to the Fae.”

“Do you think Trowbridge and his Raha'ells will put up with his insolence any more than them?” Lexi pulled the garment over his head with a grunt. “The mutt acts before he thinks,” he said as the top of his head emerged, “and he leads with his mouth.”

Actually, at present, Mouse led with passive aggression. He'd unhooked his satchel from Seabiscuit's saddle and presently had his arm sunk elbow deep in its burlap depths. He rummaged noisily, glass clinking, then pulled out the spent vial of sun potion. Using his teeth, he pulled out the cork and then spat it out. All innocence, he lifted his gaze. “Thought I'd get rid of the empty. That is, if it
is
empty.” He upended the bottle.

It was. Not a drop fell from its mouth. Mouse pitched the spent vial into the bushes.

I shook my head. “You got to admit, he'd make a great Stronghold.”

“He won't survive long enough to carry the name.” Lexi grimly felt for his braces. “Mark my words: he'll be the first one to fall.”

I noted the beads of sweat dotting my brother's forehead. “Do you still want to drink the juice?”

“I have magic now.” He stretched for his boot. “Sun potion is unnecessary.”

It didn't escape me that he'd sidestepped the question. “All that power's temporary,” I said quietly. “You're not a mage, Lexi.”

“But I could be one.”

“You're
not
one of them.”

“Not a Fae? I can't fault you there.” He sat down on the log, boot in hand. “I'm definitely not a full-blooded Fae. But I could and
should
be a powerful wizard. We were born to it, Hell. It was a destiny that was denied us.”

“To use your word: bullshit.”

“Our citadel grew from the seed of a black walnut,” he said, obstinately returning to the thorny subject of would-be wizards.

“You've seen our tree in Threall,” I said slowly.

“No, I haven't. But my mage explained the significance of our citadel's species. Only those with the power to wield great magic are born from such seed.”

My spine stiffened every time Lexi used the possessive and spliced it to the word “mage.” “I hate to break it to you, Lexi, but you are not Harry Potter.”

Lexi jerked on his boot. “Who is Harry Potter?”

“He's a—never mind.” My tone turned flat and hard. “What else did the Old Mage tell you about Threall? Did he mention that his cyreath squats on top of yours? That his soul-ball is doing its best to smother yours?”

A muscle worked in his jaw.

“You have a beautiful cyreath. The light that shines from it is complex and jewel toned. Rich reds, beautiful blues.”

And bruised purples.

“I'll take your word for it.”

I studied his face. “Is your leg still throbbing?”

He reached for his other boot. “No.”

If he was still dealing with my pain, it was going to hurt like blazes pulling that tight-fitting leather over his ankle. That is, unless my wound had healed leaps and bounds since my last sip of the juice. I looked down at my bandaged leg. Some of the swelling had gone down; the wrappings were definitely looser. Was it better? I started to pick at the knot on the bandage.

“Must you?” he said tensely.

“It still hurts?”

“Not a bit,” he said with his lying face.

And there you go—he'd pushed me away again, so I pushed back when perhaps I should have waited for more privacy. “You know, I remember what it's like to have the old man inside you. I've felt the panic of not being able to control my own body. You don't have to put up a front for me. Not for the pain in your leg, or how you're feeling.”

“I'm a man now.” He carefully eased his foot into the leg of his boot. “Not the boy who used to share his every thought with his sister.” He raised his brows. “Do I look panicked?”

“No. But sometimes you seem distracted. Like you're having a one-sided conversation. Is that what's happening? Is the Old Mage a worm wriggling in your head?”

“A maggot in my brain? That's a picture I could do without.” Gritting his teeth, he jammed his heel into the boot. It was a moment before he could add, “You'll be relieved to know that I am worm-free.”

Miserably I said, “When he steps forward, I can't see you anymore.” My twin lifted his gaze to mine, his brows squeezed together in confusion. “I'm looking at your face, and listening to your voice, but I can't find you. You seem to disappear underneath him. Are you really there? Listening but mute?”

“Sometimes.”

Oh, Lexi
. “And the rest of the time?”

My twin's gaze slid away.

“Where do you go?” I whispered.

He stood up, favoring his right leg. “I'm not sure. I don't seem to have a body. I'm floating, surrounded by a wall of blue fog that I can't see past.” At my gasp, he sent me a flicker of a smile meant to be reassuring. “It's not frightening.”

I knew those mysts. “He's sending you back to your soul-ball in Threall.”

He let out an amused huff. “That accounts for the swaying sensation.”

That's how Lexi met Mad-one. And how they were able to see into my mind while my wolf was drifting in and out of consciousness. I said as much.

“‘Met'? That wouldn't be the word I'd use.” He started tucking his shirt into his trousers. “She visits sporadically. What does she look like? Her voice sounds young, but you can never tell with the Fae. Would I want to bed her?”

“Listen to me!” I said sharply. “This isn't funny. I don't know what feel-good vibes the old geezer's flooding you with, but resist. Don't go to Threall. It's dangerous for you.”

“I told you—I feel no fear when I'm there.”

“Can't you see that he's doing his best to ease you into a permanent coma? Promise me that you won't let him send you there again.”

“He's not sending me.” Lexi squinted at the sun. “I'm choosing to go.”

I sucked in a shocked breath.

“Every time I leave this world to visit your special realm, the Old Mage shares more of his knowledge with me. You can't even begin to appreciate the depth of what he understands. He's let me see so much … you couldn't imagine … conjures and concepts.” Lexi touched his mouth, unable to sum up the awesome with words.

“You know the magic won't stay.”

“But it is!” His features lit up. “Everything's staying—
everything's
sticking. Within two days, I've learned as much as Helzekiel has over a lifetime. A few more hours in Threall and I'll have enough to bring him down. Did you see the ward I placed around Daniel's Rock? Do you know how much effort it took for me to do that?” His teeth flashed, and he pinched his thumb and forefinger, leaving a scant eighth of an inch between them. “Less than this. And I could do it again. Right now, right here, if I wanted to.”

Old Mage, you're a devious bastard.
So that's the deal the old geezer was offering Lexi: get his sister to agree to walk away and the Mage would give Lexi endless and equal ownership to everything he's learned. Lying buzzard. He'd welch on the deal as soon as soon as the soulmerge was final. Though I doubted that Lexi could see that. My twin was animated, flushed with excitement at the mere talk of magic. “Lexi, he's a wiley old goat. You told me so yourself. If he's offering it to you, it's only because doing so works to his advantage.”