World Weaver (The Devany Miller Series Book 4) (5 page)

His back was to me and he was painting on a large white canvas in violent red and yellow strokes.

“Hey.”

He didn’t pause in his efforts. Slash, slash. Paint flew in droplets and lines over the canvas and onto the wall behind it.

“Tytan?”

Still no answer. A figure emerged from the color, a figure I knew quite well. She featured in many of my nightmares the days after I’d first ventured—unknowingly—into Midia. Ravana had stolen Tytan from his mother long ago, had dabbled in genetic modification—magic style—to produce him and then me, centuries later. She hadn’t been sane when I snapped her neck, but I wasn’t sure she’d ever been sane, even in the dark reaches of the past.

He’d gotten her eyes right. Crazy eyes, death inside them.

We both stood quietly, staring at her until, with a flick of his wrist, he smeared her from our sight. “Devany.”

“I came to ask you a question.”

He turned to me, his reddish-gold eyes gleaming. As a Skriven, he was able to change his eye color at will, or had been able to. Now that he had his soul, they remained the same hue. I didn’t know if it was his choice or not. I didn’t ask, either, not wanting him to know I thought about his eyes. He asked, “What question is that?”

“Since Lucy was your construct, are you able to track her like I do you?”

“Don’t you think if I could have that, I would have?”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I didn’t—”

“I tried but Lucy has long since ceased to be the vessel I made and my mother’s powers are tied to Tempest Peak. I’m sorry.”

It was strange, hearing true emotion in his voice. It was a warm, almost living thing between us. It underscored how lacking he’d been before he’d reunited with his true soul.

And I’d thought he was attractive then.

Now? Holy smokes.

Tytan laughed.

Some things hadn’t changed, apparently. “Stay out of my head.”

“When it’s so delightful to eavesdrop?” He tossed the paint brush and it spattered red on the hardwood floor. “Where have you looked?”

Everywhere, I wanted to say. Instead, I conjured up a picture of the places I’d been on an internal map I’d been keeping. It was something Nex was helping me maintain. He had a knack for it, and was able to hold large amounts of data in the forefront of his mind with ease, whereas I sometimes had trouble remembering what I had for breakfast. All I had to do to access it was connect with Nex, an easy thing to do ever since I’d made him by Archaeon Tezryo or right-hand man. Right-head man? “The places marked in red are towns or cities I’ve visited. The green glowing dot is where I lost Bethy’s energy signal.” I paused for a moment. “I saw her. Bethy. Or rather, I managed to connect to her, in her mind.”

Tytan stripped off his paint-stained shirt. Of course. I averted my eyes. He said, “Our witch must have slipped up with her anti-detection spell.”

“Not my witch. Not anymore.” I worried I’d kill Arsinua when I found her. I’d come a long way from the woman who had considered her biggest defining feature her confidence she’d never murder another living soul. Now I had blood on my hands. Now I had a mother’s burning anger toward the woman who’d taken my daughter.

Most days, I stuffed that anger down deep inside me and told myself I wouldn’t kill her.

Nights were another matter.

“I’m sorry, Devany.”

He didn’t make a move toward me, but I backed up anyway. Backed up because my instinct was to move toward him. His comfort would have been a lot different than my father’s.

“Is there a way to make clones of the kids and me? Something to fool the police and Tom’s parents? Something like Lucy?”

“With all your spawn fawning all over you, it shouldn’t be a hard thing to find a few willing to give up vessels to their savior.”

I snorted. “Please. I’m not that.”

His eyes gleamed, but he didn’t contradict me. “The Formless Ones need to touch the person they will copy to glean memories from them. We can do you and your son, but not your daughter, I’m afraid.”

I considered. Having copies of Liam and me at home, working, going to school instead of missing classes would be a huge help, even if I couldn’t bring my daughter back. “See if you can find two vessels then, please. One for Liam and one for me. Then maybe I can keep my job and keep the police off my back about Bethy.”

“Will do.” His eyes flicked over me. “You need sleep.”

“I need my daughter,” I countered. “Thank you. I’ll see you soon.”

***

I left before I did anything stupid and hooked home, where Travis was cooking breakfast. “Hey,” I said, sitting wearily on a chair at the kitchen counter.

“Geez, Dev, don’t sneak up on me like that.” He slid bacon onto a plate next to scrambled eggs and toast. “I didn’t know you were coming home.”

“Me neither. I’ve been told twice I need sleep.”

“You do look like shit,” he said and pushed the food over to me. “Eat it.”

“Trav.” He glared so I picked up a slice of the crispy meat and bit off an end, chewing as he got out the ingredients to make another batch for himself. After he had the bacon sizzling in the pan, I asked, “What would you think of moving to Midia?”

“What? Where, that place you said I’d explode if I went? Yeah, no thank you.”

The eggs were perfect: fluffy, cheesy, and buttery. I salted them and popped another bite into my mouth, speaking around it. “You won’t explode. There’s an easy fix. I’m asking because I think it’s becoming too complicated to live here anymore.” I gave him the rundown on Liam and my brother’s face grew grim.

“This is bullshit, Dev.”

“I know.”

The muscles in his jaw were jumping as he cooked. When he finally dished everything out, he rounded the counter and sat beside me. “I’m sorry about Arsinua. I had no fucking clue she’d do that.”

“I know.” Did he think I blamed him? “No, Travis, really. Don’t believe for a second I blame you for that. It was all on her.”

“Shit.” He drew out the word and then let his fork fall onto his plate with a clatter of metal on ceramic. I winced. “Pillow talk, Dev. That’s all it was.”

I didn’t answer, just kept eating, though my eggs weren’t tasting quite so great now.

“She asked me if I thought it was healthy to have the kids here. It was right after you took me to that place between worlds.” He was looking for the word and I supplied it.

“The Slip.”

“Yeah,” he said, oblivious to my sudden downshift in mood. “So I said no, I didn’t think it was healthy. I mean, you gotta understand, sis, it was just talk. That place scared the bejeebus out of me and I was kinda pissed at you. But I would never have said anything if I’d known she’d take Bethy.” His words trailed off. “I’m sorry.”

I didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, doggedly eating my food. If I spoke now, I’d probably lose a brother and I didn’t want to talk in the heat of anger, because anger was what it was. He’d talked about my kids not being safe with me to the woman who had kidnapped my daughter, had, if I really wanted to be nasty, encouraged her to kidnap Bethy. And now he was sorry?

“Dev?”

“Thanks for the food. I think I’m going to go take a nap.” I pushed the plate from me and stood, carefully not looking at him. If I looked at him I’d want to push him. Or hit him. Or fucking toss him into the Swamp on Midia with a little cut on his arm so he could meet the local wildlife.

“I’m sorry, Dev,” he said behind me.

I left him and went upstairs to my room, wondering as I closed my bedroom door how many times I’d carefully kept from slamming it shut.

***

I couldn’t sleep. Of course not. I laid in bed and worried instead. Worried how I would keep paying the bills if I tried to keep the house. Worried about my job—which surely I would lose if I had to keep requesting time off to search for my daughter. Worried about Liam, even though I was fairly sure he was having the time of his life in Odd Silver. Worried about Bethy most of all, wondering what she was doing, worried she was scared. Arsinua had been part of the family for a while so she knew our routines, but she didn’t know my daughter. She didn’t know Bethy loved to have her temples gently rubbed if she had a headache. She didn’t know my daughter liked pink, but only a certain shade of it. She didn’t know the songs we sang or the way we hugged and she certainly didn’t know that once when Bethy was three, she fell and hurt her knee badly enough to need stitches. We’d cuddled in the ER bed together with a bear from the hospital gift shop that she named Boopie.

Bethy had never slept without that bear. Even on slumber party nights, she carried Boopie with her in her backpack.

I pulled Boopie close to me now. I’d been sleeping with him ever since Bethy had gone missing. It wasn’t the same, but I felt connected to her nonetheless. Perhaps it was the bear that did it, I didn’t know, but between one blink and the next I was in my daughter’s head again. This time, we both understood what was going on. She didn’t jerk or speak aloud; instead went straight to the window. Her gaze stopped on the side of a brick building, the mortar yellowed with age and crumbling.

‘Mom? I love you.’

“I love you too. You okay?”

‘Yeah.’
There was hesitation in her voice that made my skin cold.
‘I told Arsinua what you said and it freaked her out. We packed up and left after I talked to you last time. I don’t know what town we’re in. She made me wear a blindfold. But it smells like seafood. I think we’re near the ocean.’

I clenched my fingers tight around Boopie, angry at the idea of Arsinua blindfolding my kid. How dare she scare the crap out of her? I was glad she’d moved, but damn it. That witch was going to pay for what she was doing to my daughter.

I took a breath to calm myself, not wanting Bethy to hear my anger. I forced a smile onto my face so she would hear it in my voice. “That’s good, honey. That helps. Can you look around? Maybe there’s a landmark or something that will help me find where you are.”

‘I’ll try.’
She braced her palms on the window and pressed upward. It squeaked and she froze. I heard people fighting in another room. One of the voices was Arsinua’s. The other I didn’t recognize. Bethy pushed again. This time the window slid up, allowing my daughter to lean out the window. More bricks, plus a wooden column and part of a wooden sign: “Legenda.” Legendary? Some weird Midian word that I didn’t know? I silently urged her to lean farther.

The sign resolved into: “Legendary Whiskahol” and then I was kicked out of her head. “Bethy? Bethy!”

Nothing.

Did I have enough information to hook to the place? I scrambled from bed and formed the hook, settling the sign firmly in my mind’s eye. The doorway wobbled, and when I tried to step through, it collapsed.

I could have cried.

Instead, I picked up the phone and called Danni. She was at the store but Zech answered and it was him I’d wanted to talk to anyway. “Have you ever seen a sign that says ‘Legendary Whiskahol?’”

“Hello to you too,” he said. “It’s a type of liquor served in taverns around Midia. Especially along the Southwestern shore.”

Excitement thrummed through me. “How big a distance are we talking?”

“About the length of the United States,” he replied.

I cursed. “Sorry. I thought I had a bead on my daughter.” I paused. “Can you think of anyplace Arsinua would hang out along the Southwestern shore?”

“Bayladdy Creek.”

I blinked. Could it be that easy? “Are you sure?”

“She lived there for a few years. If she’s on the Southwestern shore, then she’s in Bayladdy.”

“Zech, you’re a life saver. I could kiss you.” I was so close to getting my daughter back, almost felt her in my arms.

“Be careful,” he said in return and I thumbed off the phone.

Before I could make any plans, the doorbell rang. I crossed to the window and my stomach dropped to my toes when I saw the car out front.

FIVE

The car screamed police even though there wasn’t a single word written on the plain white sedan. What the hell did they want? They hadn’t found Bethy, so what were they doing here?

I was tempted to leave and let Travis deal with them but forced myself to go downstairs.

Travis opened the door; I heard him from the stairs. “Yeah?” he said. “Can I help you?”

“Is Devany Miller home?”

“Who’s asking?”

I paused out of sight of the doorway, knowing who it was before I even saw him.

“Detective Warwick, Omaha Police Department.”

“Are you here with good news about my niece?” Travis asked, his question sounding more like a challenge than inquiry.

There was a shuffle of papers. “Is your sister home, Mr. Miller?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

I stepped into view before Travis said anything more or, heaven forbid, lied for me. “Can I help you?” I asked, repeating my brother’s words. My stomach went farther south at the sight of the patrol cars curbside and the police officers behind him. Was I getting arrested?