I looked at Collum. If he’d known about this, I didn’t know what I’d do. But his mouth hung open in pure shock.
“Brandon.” Mom’s voice was barely audible. “I wanted to take you, too, to raise you as my own.” Bran took a shuffling step toward her and stared down with an unreadable expression. “But when we got home, Celia took off with you so fast. We couldn’t stop her.”
Celia stepped between the two of them, severing their line of sight. Bran’s face had gone pale at my mother’s declaration.
Celia’s voice morphed into a low hiss. “You took Michael from me. You weren’t taking everything. The honorable, loving family and two children to love you? Never.”
Chapter 42
“NOW YOU KNOW THE TRUTH.” CELIA LEERED DOWN AT ME. “That your mother is a liar. But the two of you will have much time in this age to discuss it.” She glanced down at the blood. “Or perhaps not. Come, Brandon, these people are nothing to us. Without their lodestones, they dare not travel the Dim.” She snorted and gave that brittle laugh. “Perhaps Babcock would take you back, Sarah,” she said. “And when I bring Michael home, I will tell him you are happily wed.”
Bran blinked at me. There was a message there, but I couldn’t read it. Celia turned to go, then whipped back, something catching her attention.
An undulating lavender mist had begun to coalesce around Collum and Phoebe. The pendant, still clutched in my hand, twitched against my palm. I looked down to see the same purplish haze shimmering up my arm.
The Dim had come for us. Celia’s eyes bulged as she realized that her son had never taken the lodestones from us.
“Traitor,” Celia snarled as she swung the pistol barrel at Bran. “I should have left you to die in that forest.”
Before he could react, Celia leaped forward and ripped Bran’s opal cloak pin away. She danced back, Bran’s lodestone—his safety, his only sure way back to where he started—clenched in her fist.
With the gun still raised, she spoke. “I should have known you would do this. You are weak. You are nothing.” She tossed her hair back, and gave a haughty laugh. “Eh, It is no loss. You are not of my blood. I will train Antonio to stand by my side. He is my only true son.”
“No!” Anguish and rage all balled together in one horrible expression skimmed across Bran’s features. He took a step in Celia’s direction, stopping only when she trained the gun straight at his heart. Hands raised in supplication, he begged, “Mother. Please. Tony’s too young. He’s not cut out for this. You know that. He’ll only get himself killed.”
“Then, querido,” Celia sneered, “you should not have betrayed me.”
For one, brief moment I thought she would pull the trigger. That she would kill her own son where he stood. The blood in my veins turned to slurry as the second stretched into an eternity.
Then, with a disgusted huff, she turned and fled into the trees. Bran’s hands fell to his sides and his head dropped in defeat.
Beside me, Mom was trying to say something, but the pain and blood loss were too much. Her eyes closed, and she slumped against Phoebe.
“Mom?” When she wouldn’t stir, I lightly smacked her cheeks, then shook her hard. “Mom!” No response. Shaking, I groped for a pulse. It flickered against my fingertips, weak and thready.
A cold wind began to circle us. Back at Christopher Manor, Doug had flipped the switch. The Dim had come to take us home, but something wasn’t right. The fractured light that danced over Collum, Phoebe, and me turned a deep violet. But the glow rolling across my mother was a sick, putrid shade of yellow.
Horrorstruck, I remembered what had happened to Dr. Alvarez’s son. How he was sliced in two, only half of him returning when he traveled without his lodestone.
“The dagger,” I cried. “Celia took it. Without the lodestone to guide Mom, she’ll go somewhere else. Or she’ll die.”
From the corner of my eye I saw Bran, pale and alone, move to the edge of the clearing. At my words, his head came up, and our eyes met. I hesitated for only a heartbeat. Five people. Three lodestones. And though Bran stood outside the glade, that still left four of us.
As I let the pendant spool out of my fist, I said to Phoebe, “tell Mom I’m sorry.”
She didn’t get it, but Collum did. He tried to tear the ring from his own finger, but the nerves in his injured arm wouldn’t cooperate. “Cameron, help me,” he yelled. “For God’s sake, get this bloody ring off and give it to Sarah. Hurry.”
Blood sheeted down Collum’s arm and streamed from his fingers. I glanced from the pendant, then back at Bran. I could see the argument forming on his lips. But we didn’t have time and he knew it. Finally, he gave a sharp nod. A silent agreement.
“Aye.” Collum nodded frantically as Bran approached. “I can’t remove it with this blasted arm. You’ll have to do it.”
“I’m sorry, Collum,” I said. “But you need a doctor.”