*
At seven, Hibla came to get us. We followed her down the road to a narrow mountain path that led north, to a low mountain thrusting up like a dragon fang north of the castle. The western half of it had been blasted to make room for the railroad, and layers of rock thrust out of the sheer cliff. The path reached the mountain and turned into a paved sidewalk that dived into the mountain’s forested side.
Trees rose on both sides of us, not wild growth but carefully cultivated greenery, cut back to please the eye. Every few feet there would be a stone step. Short feylantern torches glowed on both side of the path, with bright sparks of deluded fireflies dancing around them. Unlike the lavender feylanterns in the castle, these were yellow, a color mages in Atlanta fought for but couldn’t achieve. Magic wrapped around us. Hugh went all out.
The path climbed up, turned, climbed up again, and turned again . . . We kept zigzagging up the mountain until finally we came to a small sitting area: a wooden bench with a table and some meat and bread under a wire hood.
“You and I will wait here,” Hibla told Derek.
“If anything happens to her, you’ll die first,” Derek told her.
Well, that settled that.
I climbed farther up the path. The greenery parted and I saw a large table set under the trees. The trees on the west side had been sheared and an evening sea stretched before me, azure and beautiful, as the sun slowly set into its cool waters.
Hugh sat at the table. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt. Lord Death at his most casual.
He rose and smiled at me. I sat across from him on the north side, while he sat on the south. My back was to the path. Argh.
“Nobody will be coming up,” he said and raised a bottle. “Wine?”
“Water.”
“You don’t drink much,” he said.
“I drank too much for a while.”
“I did, too,” he said, and poured two glasses of water, one for himself, one for me.
The table held three platters: fruit, meat, and cheese. Everything a growing warlord needs.
“Please,” Hugh invited.
I put some cheese and meat on my plate.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” He nodded at the sea.
It was. There was something ancient about it, something impossibly alluring. Thousands of years ago, people gazed at the sea just like we did now, mesmerized by the pattern of evening light on the waves. They had their own dreams and ambitions, but at the core they must’ve been just like us: they loved and hated, worried about their problems and celebrated their triumphs. Long after we were gone, the sea would still remain, and other people would watch it and be bewitched.
“The Volkodavi are lamassu,” I said.
“I know,” he said.
“When did you find out?”
“When I saw one fly out of your medmage’s room. The Volkodavi have a good reputation back in Ukraine, but I’ve heard some stories. People disappearing. Monsters eating human bodies. I put two and two together. They came out of nowhere a few years ago, took over the local pack, and then the strange shit started.” Hugh cut a piece of meat. “Your father hates the breed. He says they were badly made. I think they could be useful under the right circumstances, but they have very little discipline. Hammering them into usable soldiers would be difficult. You’d have to get them from childhood, and even then there is no guarantee.”
“You’re talking about them like they are pit bull puppies.”
“Not a bad analogy, actually. It would take a few generations to breed the crazy out of the lamassu. Why bother? A properly trained German shepherd can kill as well as an undisciplined pit bull, and it’s a lot easier to handle.”
This conversation was getting under my skin. I drank my water.
“I like it here,” Hugh said.
“It is beautiful.”
“You should stay,” he said. “After Desandra gives birth and the Beast Lord takes his pack home. Have a vacation. Live a little, swim in the sea, eat delicious food that’s bad for you.”
“I’m sure it would be a glorious vacation right up to the point where you serve my head on a silver platter to Roland.”
“For you, I’d spring for gold,” he said.
“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“Are you actually planning to fight him?” Hugh leaned forward.
“If it comes to it.”
Hugh put down his fork and walked to the edge. “See that rock down there?”
I got up and stood at my edge of the table. He was pointing at a jagged boulder jutting from the side of the mountain.
Hugh opened his mouth. Magic snapped like a striking whip. An invisible torrent of power crashed into the rock. The boulder broke into shards.
A power word. Nice. When I used mine, it ripped me up with pain. Hugh didn’t seem any worse for wear.
“I only have a tiny fraction of his power. You have no idea what it’s like to stand behind him when he lets it go. It’s like walking in the footsteps of a god.”
I sat back in my spot. I’d heard that before.
Hugh studied the boulder below. “You’ve been alive for twenty-six years. He’s been alive for over five thousand. He doesn’t just play with magic; he knows it, intimately. He can craft impossible things. If I were to stand against him, he would crush me like a gnat. Hell, he might not even notice I’m there at all. I serve him because there is no one stronger.”
Hugh turned to me. “I’ve seen you fight. I’m a fan. But if you plan to fight the Builder of Towers, you will lose.”
I realized he wasn’t bluffing. It hit home. If Roland came for me now, I would lose. Looking at it now seemed kind of absurd. I wasn’t even thirty. I didn’t know how to use my magic. What few tricks I had up my sleeve barely scratched the surface. In my head I always suspected that I wouldn’t be able to hold him off, but the way Hugh said it made me pause.
“What makes you think he wants to kill you?” Hugh sat down.
“He tried to murder me in the womb, he killed my mother, and he sent you to find and kill the man I called my father. What makes you think he doesn’t?”
“He’s lonely,” Hugh said. “It eats at him. He can age himself. It takes a lot of effort, and usually he stays around forty. He says it’s a good age, mature enough to inspire confidence, young enough to not suggest frailty. He stayed at it for years, but now he is actively aging. Last time I saw him, four months ago, he looked closer to fifty. I asked him why. He said it made him appear more fatherly.”
How sweet. “I’m not buying it.”
“Think about it, Kate. You are deadly, smart, beautiful, and you are capable. Why wouldn’t he want a daughter like that? Don’t you think he would at least try to get to know you?”
“You’re missing the point. I don’t want to know him. He killed my mother, Hugh. He robbed me of the one person every child counts on for unconditional love. Do you remember your mother?”
“Yes,” Hugh said. “I was four when she died. Three years later Voron took me off the street.”
“I don’t remember mine. Not a murmur, not a trace of a scent, no smudged image, nothing. Voron was my father and my mother. The Death’s Raven was an undisputed authority in my life. The only authority. You knew him. Think about what that really means.”
“So it’s vengeance and a pity party at the same time,” Hugh said.
“No. It’s not vengeance. It’s prevention. I want to kill Roland so there will never be another me.”
“That would be a tragedy,” Hugh said.
“That would be a blessing,” I said.
“Let the shapeshifter sail off,” Hugh said. “Stay with me for a while. No strings attached. No obligations or expectations. See if I can change your mind.”
“I thought we already covered that ground. It wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“What’s holding you to him? The man does care about you in his own stunted way, but you will never fit in with them, Kate. Deep down you know this. They’ll always look on you as if you’re a dangerous freak. People fear what they can’t understand, but they can work with it. Animals can’t. They shun the strange or try to destroy it. You can bleed for them for a hundred years and you won’t change their minds. Make one small misstep and they will turn on you.”
I turned and looked at the sea. Curran would fight to his last breath to protect me. If I asked Derek to walk into fire, he would do it. But then again there was Doolittle looking at me with horror in his eyes . . .
“It’s slipping,” he said.
I arched my eyebrow at him.
“Your cloak,” he said. “Some of your power is showing. Just how much are you hiding?”
“I guess you’ll never know,” I told him.
Hugh rested his elbows on a table. “Where do you see yourself in five years?”
“If Roland doesn’t find me?”
“Yes.”
“In the Keep, doing what I’m doing now.”
“How long will that last, Kate?”
“Hopefully for a long, long time.”
“You’re lying to yourself. Voron made us into serial killers. We can be okay without violence for a few weeks, but after a couple of months, the hand starts itching for the sword. You start looking for that rush. You get irritable, life turns stale, and then one day some fool crosses your path, attacks, and as you cut him down, you feel that short moment of struggle when he leverages his life against yours. If you’re lucky, he’s very good and the fight lasts a few seconds. But even if it doesn’t, that short moment of triumph is like getting an adrenaline shot. Suddenly color comes back into life, food tastes better, sleep is deeper, and sex is rapture.”
I knew exactly what he was talking about. I lived it and I felt it.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he said. “I know I’m right. You and I are birds of a feather. We weren’t just born, we were forged, ground, and sharpened to be exactly what we are. You felt it when we sparred. I sure did. I don’t know what you’ve got going with the werelion, but whatever it is, it will go flat and soon. I bet you already see signs of it. Some part of him enjoyed Lorelei’s attention. It’s flattering. A young, attractive girl, hanging on your every word, putting out all the signs that she’s available to you alone. It makes you feel like you’ve still got it. He didn’t do anything, but as another man, I can tell you he thought about it. Sex is a funny thing: it’s always kind of the same, but you always want more of it and with different people.”
I leaned on my hand and sighed. “Please continue, Doctor. Let me know when our time is up so I can write a check.”
He chuckled. “The man is an egomaniac. You know this. He doesn’t fully understand what you are, and he doesn’t appreciate it. Give him a few years, and the next time a Lorelei swings into his orbit, he might bang her. He will tell himself it’s not a big thing. It wouldn’t mean anything. He won’t leave you for her. The next time will be easier. The next easier still. Before you know it, it will become a regular thing. Why the hell would you want to put up with that?”
“Speaking from personal experience?”
“Yes. When I realized I’d stopped aging, I went for it. Let me tell you, no matter how creative you get—and I got creative—the mechanics of sex are always the same. The difference is passion. Passion makes it special. Having sex with an attractive woman is fun, but add passion, make her that one woman that you love or hate, and the whole experience changes. You feel something for me, Kate. Whether you want to admit it or not, something is there. I can guarantee we would never grow tired of it.”
Wow. He’d put his best game face on and hit me with everything he had. “No.”