Magic Binds

CHAPTER 4

THE MAGIC WAVE ended on our way back to the city and technology once again reasserted itself. When we got back to the office, it was early afternoon and nobody was there. Ascanio must have bailed early. My mammoth donkey was also MIA, probably back at our home, in the stables. I dropped Roman off, went into the office, and pulled a legal pad to me. I always thought better with a pen in hand.

I wrote Choices on the piece of paper and stared at it.

Fight my father now, before he expects a direct assault.

Wait until my father attacks.

Play ball.

Choice number one was right out. I still had no idea how to defeat my father. I’d felt his power this morning and while I could hold my own, if he gave it his all, he would crush me. Also, I had no army. I could ask the Pack and the Witches for help, but they would expect some sort of strategy besides “let’s all run at Roland’s castle and get killed.”

Choice number two wasn’t much better. In theory, I was supposed to be able to protect Atlanta after claiming it. In practice, I had no idea how. When I reached for the magic of the land, it was like a placid ocean. Within its depths, life moved and shimmered. The waters were capable of storms, but I had no idea how to start one.

Choice number three was what my father wanted. That alone should’ve been enough to stop me. Except when I closed my eyes, I saw two lifeless bodies. If I went to him now, if I left Curran, he would survive. My father couldn’t kill my child if the child didn’t exist.

I loved them both. I loved my unborn future baby. I loved Curran, his eyes, his laugh, his smile. I woke up next to him, I ate breakfast with him, we went to work together, and we came home together. That was the core of who I was: Curran, Julie, Derek, even Grendel, the family I’d made. It was my life, the one I fought for, the one I built and wanted. We were together. That was how things were.

If I went to serve my father, I would save them, at least for a little while. But I was only good at one thing: killing. Sooner or later my father would use me in that capacity and then I would be taking someone else’s Curran or Kate away from them. Because people would oppose my father, the kind of people who were bothered by crosses with human beings dying on them, and I would have to kill them.

I couldn’t do it. I’d been Voron’s attack dog for the first fifteen years of my life. I wouldn’t be one again.

I crossed the list out and started over.

New Plan

Get Awesome Cosmic Powers.

Nuke my dad.

Retire from the land-claiming business.

I was so down with this plan. If only I had some way to implement it.

Maybe someone would bring me a magic scroll, an incantation that would magically imprison my father in some cave. I would totally be willing to help old ladies carry wood, spin straw into gold, or go on a quest for that kind of scroll.

I stared at the door. Come on, magic scroll.

Come on.

Nope.

I needed to get out of the office and go home. I would feel better at home.

I would get home, work out, cook a big dinner because I felt like it, and figure out what I had to do about Saiman and my father.

WHEN I PULLED up to the house, Christopher was sitting in the driveway on the grass. That’s right. The meditation.

Living under Barabas’s care agreed with Christopher. Left to his own devices in the Keep, he often forgot about food and after a couple of weeks of self-imposed starvation, he’d look like a stiff wind would make him keel over, until Barabas or I would notice and make him eat. Now that he was staying in the house next to us, Barabas had assumed responsibility for Christopher’s health, and the weremongoose could be extremely single-minded.

I did my best to help. Between the two of us, Christopher ate on time, bathed every day, went with Barabas to the Guild, where he got regular exercise, and wore clean clothes. He was still thin, but his skin had a good color to it, and despite his pale, nearly colorless hair, he no longer looked like a ghost.

The only thing we couldn’t heal was his mind. All the outside pressures were gone now. Christopher was safe, sheltered, fed, and among friends, but his mental health hadn’t improved. We had taken him to Emory University School of Medicine, to Duke University, and even to Johns Hopkins, which was a trip I was doing my best to forget. We almost died, and while we were away, a local family we knew was murdered. Julie and Derek had handled it, but thinking about it still turned my stomach.

The doctors were in consensus: physically Christopher was fine. Psychologically he didn’t match any specific disorder. Christopher always claimed that my father had shattered his mind. The people at Emory and Duke had agreed that someone had magically destroyed his psyche. The psychiatrist at Johns Hopkins was an exceptional empath, with the power to feel what others felt. After he spoke to Christopher, he said the trauma to his psyche was self-inflicted. Something bad had happened to Christopher. He refused to confront it, he didn’t want to remember it, and so he deliberately remained as he was. Christopher offered no feedback. He sat quietly and smiled sadly through it all. He held the key to his own healing and there wasn’t much any of us could do to get him to turn it.

I got out of the car. Christopher looked at me from his spot in the grass among the yellow dandelions and wild daisies. Since most of our annoying neighbors had moved away and taken the budding homeowners’ association with them, Curran mowed the grass when he felt like it, and he didn’t feel like killing the dandelions.

“Meditation?” Christopher asked.

“Not today,” I told him. The last place I wanted to be was in my own head. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.”

To ask about the book or not to ask? If I asked him and he freaked out, I’d kick myself. Better talk to Barabas first.

“Where is Maggie?”

Christopher pulled out a canvas bag from behind him. A black furry head poked out and looked at me with the saddest brown eyes ever to belong to a dog. Maggie was an eight-pound creature that was probably part long-haired Chihuahua and part something very different. She was small and odd, and her black fur stuck out in wispy strands in strange places. She walked gingerly, always slightly awkward, and if she thought she was in trouble, she’d lift one of her paws and limp, pretending to be injured. Her greatest ambition in life was to lie on someone’s lap, preferably under a blanket.

After Johns Hopkins, Barabas told me he wasn’t giving up. I told him I wasn’t either. I came up with daily meditation. Barabas came up with Maggie.

The little dog looked at me, turned, and crawled back into the bag. Right.

“Have you seen Curran or Julie?”

Christopher shook his head.

A Pack Jeep turned onto our street and slid to a stop in front of our house. The window rolled down and Andrea stuck her blond head out. “I’m free! Free!”

Oh boy. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the Keep?” I could’ve sworn Raphael told me during the Conclave that Doolittle had confined her to the medward.

“Screw that. We’re going to lunch.”

“It’s almost dinnertime.”

“Then we’re going to dinch. Or lunner. Or whatever the hell early-dinner-late-lunch stupid combo we can come up with.”

“Now isn’t . . .”

Andrea’s eyes blazed. “Kate, I’m nine months pregnant and I’m hungry. Get in the damn car.”

I got in the Jeep, and Andrea peeled out like a bat out of hell.

“We’re going to Parthenon. We’re going to have gyros.” Her stomach was out so far, she must’ve moved the seat back, because she had to stretch to reach the wheel.

“The look of grim determination on your face is scary,” I told her.

“I’ve been cooped up in the Keep’s infirmary for the past two weeks,” Andrea said.

“Why?”

She waved her hand. “Because Doolittle is a worrywart.”

Crap. “Andrea, does Doolittle know where you are?”

“Yes.”

“You sure about that?”

“Absolutely. I’ve let him know. Anyway, we are going to lunch!”

“Andr—”

“To lunch!” She flashed her teeth at me.

I shut up and let her drive.

Twenty minutes later she parked in front of Parthenon, and then I watched her try to get out of the Jeep. She scooted back into her seat as far as she could, then slowly edged out one leg, then half of her butt, then half her stomach. Andrea was short and the Jeep sat really high. Her foot was dangling down. I would offer to help, but she was armed at all times and could shoot the dots out of dominoes, and I didn’t want to get murdered.

“Are you going to help me or not?” she growled.

I grabbed her arm and steadied her as she stepped out. “I thought you might shoot me.”

“Ha-ha. Hilarious.” She opened her eyes really wide. A ruby sheen rolled over her irises. “I smell food.”

Uh-oh. “We are going to get food. Right now.”

We burst through the doors of Parthenon like Greeks through the open gates of Troy. Five minutes later we were seated at our usual table in the garden section despite two flights of stairs, which Andrea insisted on climbing, and the heat of late afternoon. The owners had finally gotten rid of the chairs that were bolted to the floor, and I sat so I could watch the door and the two women on the right, who were the only other diners willing to brave the garden section in the heat. We ordered a heaping platter of meat, a pint of tzatziki sauce, and a bucket of fried okra, because Andrea really wanted it, and waited for our food.

She drank her iced tea and sighed.

“How’s it going?”

She looked at me. “Is this a serious question? Are you really asking or just making conversation?”

“When have I ever just made conversation?”

“Okay.” Andrea sipped some tea. “Well, I’m mean, too harsh, and I rule the clan like an iron-fisted bitch.”

“Aha.” I had no idea how anyone could lead the bouda clan. They were all nuts.

“Last Tuesday Lora, Karen, Thomas, and the new kid, Kyle, were coming home from a bar where they tried to get drunk.”

Getting drunk for a shapeshifter was a losing proposition. Their metabolism treated alcohol as poison, which it was, and purged it as fast as it entered the bloodstream. Curran had to guzzle an entire bottle of vodka to get a buzz for fifteen minutes, and since he hated the taste, he stuck to beer instead.

“So the way back took these four geniuses by the College of Mages.”

Oh boy.

“The College of Mages happens to own a polar bear.”

Better and better. “How did they get a polar bear?”

“Apparently it wandered out of the woods near Macon and it was glowing at the time, and some mages happened to be on a field trip, so they apprehended the polar bear and brought him back to the college to figure out what his deal is. They built him a very nice enclosure.”

“Okay.” Typical post-Shift thing.

“The ladies wanted to see the polar bear and the two guys didn’t have the balls to say no, so they broke into the climate-controlled enclosure and then Lora decided to pet the bear, because it ‘liked her.’”

Our gyros arrived. She picked up her first one, bit off a small piece, and chewed with obvious pleasure. “Where was I?”

“Adventurous bear petting.”

“Yeah, well, the bear petted her back.”

I laughed in spite of myself.

“I can’t blame the bear.” Andrea opened her eyes wide. “If some whiskey-soaked hyena-smelling human came toward me while I was trying to nap in my nice house, I’d pet it too. With my claws.”

“Did the bear survive?”

“He survived. He was roughed up, the four of them bled all over the place trying to get the bear off Lora without hurting him, and of course, they got busted. They all got three weeks of Keep labor and that was too harsh and too mean. Never mind that I’ve got the College of Mages breathing down my neck about their bear being emotionally compromised and the Atlanta PAD wanting to file trespassing charges, but oh no, I was too harsh.” She stopped eating for a second. “Do you know what one of them told me? He said that Aunt B would’ve never been that hard on them. Aunt B! Can you believe that shit?”

“She would’ve pulled their legs out.” Aunt B hadn’t played around.

“Who is this kinder, gentler Aunt B that they remember? I was her beta. I know exactly what kind of punishment that woman doled out. Other than that, I’m the size of a house, I can’t even take a decent bite of my food or it will hurt, this kid is kicking me in the kidneys like a champ, and everyone else treats me like I’m made of glass.” She looked at me for a moment. “And every waking moment I’m terrified that my baby will go loup at birth, and when I’m asleep, I have nightmares about it.”

Both of Raphael’s brothers went loup. “You’ve been taking the panacea.”

“I know,” she said.

“You’re also beastkin. Your form is very steady. You aren’t usually in danger of going loup even when you are badly hurt.”

“I know.” She sighed. “I know, I know, I know. I just want it all to be okay. I want to give birth to my healthy baby and be happy.”

So did I.

“Your turn.” Andrea pointed her second gyro at me. “How’s it going? Not making conversation.”

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. There was so much.

Andrea stopped eating. “What is it?”

I struggled with it.

“Kate, is it the wedding? If you don’t want to marry that jackass, you don’t have to marry him. Say the word, and the clan will come and get you and Julie. He might be a lion, but I have the whole hyena clan.”

“It’s complicated.”

She put her gyro down. “I’m listening.”

Her tone told me there would be no getting out of it.

So I told her about my dad and the crosses, the slap, the urge to crush him, snapping at Barabas, the witches, and watching Curran and my son die.

Andrea sat still for a long moment. “Well, that fucking sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you kill Roland?”

“I’m not sure I want to.” And that came right out.

“Of course you don’t want to. He’s your father.”

I stared at her. She rubbed her stomach and grimaced. “The kid won’t settle down.”

“How can I not want to kill him? He’s evil, Andrea. He won’t stop until he grinds everyone under his boot. A city, a state, a country won’t be enough. He’ll keep going until his empire spans the whole planet. He tortures people. He’s been talking to Julie behind my back, trying to subvert her. Why am I having doubts? What is wrong with me?”

“He’s your father. He made you, Kate. He’s your link to your family, the only link you have. And he loves you in his own twisted way. I saw the way he looked at you when you claimed the city. He was practically bursting with pride. If you manage to stab him in the heart, he’ll be proud of you with his dying breath. Of course, you’re having doubts. You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t.”

“You’re not helping.”

“Did you expect me to sugarcoat it? I’m your best friend. I’m in the business of telling it like it is. He’s a horrible monster, but he loves you and he’s trying to be a decent dad. It’s just that normal people’s decent and his decent aren’t on the same planet. Can you even kill him? I mean, do you know how and are you able to physically do it?”

“No and probably not.” Judging by the storm today, I had a long way to go. “I’m not even sure I can use power words against him. They are the best I’ve got, and the last time I used one against something with magic similar to Roland, my brain nearly exploded.”

“Crap.” She rubbed her stomach again. “Don’t get frustrated. There is always a way. What about the ifrit’s box? Can you trap or banish him with something similar?”

“Again, I don’t know how. I tried to figure out how the box works, but it’s too complicated and it operates on divine power. It took a lifetime of faith. Even Luther struck out with it. We don’t understand enough about how it was made and we no longer have it.”

“Okay, who can you ask besides Luther?”

“I’ve asked everybody.” I threw my napkin onto the table. “There are no answers out there, Andrea. I’ve looked through all the books, I’ve done all the research, and I don’t have any way to contain him.”

“You’re letting him get to you. You’re like a walking mythological encyclopedia, Kate. You pull random mystical crap out of your head and figure out that a giant monster nobody has seen on the face of the planet for three thousand years is allergic to hedgehogs and then you find a cute hedgehog and stab the monster in the eye with it.”

“Where do you even get this shit?”

“I’m giving you a theoretical example. There has to be something, some talisman, some spell, some creature, something that he has a weakness to.”

“I’m his weakness. He hid those thirty crosses from me, because he wanted to be a good father and he didn’t want me to get upset. He isn’t killing me in the visions. He’s killing my husband and my child!”

Two women at the far table glared at me. I looked back at them and they decided to glare somewhere else.

“The only person who was close enough and who could have known about his weakness is Erra, and I killed her. I’d ask my grandmother, but she’s too far gone—she’s an elemental presence, not a person. She doesn’t answer questions. She . . . feels.”

“Too bad you didn’t ask your aunt more questions before you killed her . . .”

Andrea flinched and tensed.

“What is it?”

“We need to go to the Keep.”

“Why?”

Panic shivered in her eyes. “The baby is coming.”

“Now?”

“Yes, right now!”

Shit. I threw money on the table. “Can you make it down the stairs?”

She growled. “I’m a fucking former knight of the Order. Go get the car.”

I sprinted out of the building to the car. The magic was down and the gasoline engine purred as soon as I turned the key. I roared out of the parking lot and screeched to a stop before the building. Andrea stumbled out. I jumped out, threw the back door open, and stuffed her into the backseat.

“I can get us to Memorial in twenty minutes. Hold on.”

“No! We have to get back to the Keep. This is a high-risk pregnancy. Doolittle thinks I might die in labor.”

Damn it all to hell and back. I ran around the car, landed in the driver’s seat, buckled up, and floored it. “How is it that Doolittle let you out?”

“He didn’t. I escaped.”

“What? You told me he knew where you were.”

“He did. I left him . . . a note . . . It’s more like he knew where I wasn’t . . . Argh, hurts like a sonovabitch.”

“After you deliver this baby, I’m going to kill you. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I’d been in the damn infirmary for two weeks and if I didn’t get out, I’d bash my head against the wall. You don’t understand. Physically I’m fine. It’s only the labor that might be the problem. All I did was sit in there and think about my baby going loup. I had to get out.”

“You hold on to that baby.” I rocketed down the street like a bat out of hell, bouncing on every pimple in the pavement. “I don’t know anything about delivering babies.”

“I don’t want you to deliver my baby. I want you to drive! Please drive.”

She was breathing like a marathon runner. I glanced into the rearview mirror. Sweat drenched her face.

I drove like all the hounds of hell were chasing me.

THE KEEP WAS an hour away on a good day. I made it in forty minutes.

“Almost there.”

“I can’t hold on any longer.” She was soaked in sweat. Her skin had gone sallow.

I barreled on down the narrow road, right past a Pack sentry. The gates to the courtyard stood wide open, showing the yard filled with shapeshifters, and I drove right into it. People dashed away from the speeding car, parting like waves . . . except one. Jim blocked my way. His eyes told me he wasn’t moving.

I slammed on the brakes.

Do not kill the Beast Lord, do not kill the Beast Lord . . .

The car slid forward and stopped a mere foot from Jim.

He yanked the driver’s door open. “What the hell . . .”

“She’s going into labor!”

He saw Andrea and roared, “Clear the way to the medward!”

Raphael shot out of the tower gates, scooped his wife out of the backseat, and ran into the tower.

“We’ve been looking for her for the last hour. Doolittle got so pissed off, he couldn’t even talk. He just made animal noises. What were you thinking, taking a pregnant woman on bed rest out for a stroll?” Jim’s eyes blazed.

Typical. It’s all my fault. “She picked me up.”

“Then you should’ve driven her right back to the Keep.”

“Me and what army? I’d like to see you try to take the keys from her.”

Ahead Andrea screamed.

I jumped out of the car and chased after Raphael.

WAITING WAS THE hardest part. They took Andrea into the medward, behind two sets of soundproof doors that muffled her screams. Raphael went in with her and when he’d carried her through the doors, I glimpsed Doolittle in his wheelchair and Nasrin, his second-in-command, attended by three nurses and a burly shapeshifter who looked like he could crush cement blocks into powder with his bare hands. I had to stay in the waiting area, a spacious room with an abundance of big pillows and soft couches.

A few minutes after I settled down, a man and a woman came in and took the spot by the door, opposite me. Pearce Bailey and Jezebel. The two renders, both from the bouda clan.

Pearce was compact, dark-skinned, with calculating eyes and a serious expression on his face. I didn’t know much about him except for the fact that Aunt B had trusted him completely.

Jezebel, on other hand, I knew very well. A few weeks before I became Curran’s Consort, Jezebel had challenged her sister Salome for her position in the bouda clan. According to Pack law, challenges were always to the death. Jezebel lost. She was clinically dead for several minutes, but somehow her body bounced back to life, and Salome couldn’t bear to kill her again. This left Jezebel outside Clan Bouda’s structure, so when I ended up in the Keep, alone, with Curran in a coma and facing challenger after challenger, Aunt B assigned Jezebel and Barabas to me to watch my back and help me navigate the murky waters of Pack politics. For almost two years Jezebel was my constant backup. As long as she was there, nobody would stab me in the back.

She was also about the only person Julie would listen to. Jezebel had watched over Julie for the duration of my time as Consort. I didn’t know about every scrape Julie got into, but occasionally things would happen and Jezebel would handle it. My kid always came home alive and Jezebel always kept Julie’s secrets.

After Curran and I separated from the Pack, I thought Jezebel would come with us, but she chose to remain with the Pack instead. She had been trained as a render before becoming my backup and Julie’s guard, and she went back to it. Last I heard she had found a nice guy and adopted his little daughter.

“Hi, Jezebel.”

“Hello, Alpha.”

“Not an alpha anymore.”

“You will always be my alpha. How’s Julie?”

“She’s doing well in school. She made friends. She had a sleepover the other night while the tech was up with two of her girlfriends. They watched a funny movie.”

“Is she still struggling with math?”

“She got an A in geometry and a C in algebra. Apparently, algebra is boring.”

“I’m glad she hasn’t changed.” Jezebel flashed her teeth in a quick smile.

“How are you?” I asked.

“I’m good. Can’t complain. I’m glad to see you.”

“I’m glad to see you too, Jezebel.”

Jezebel’s face settled back into a neutral expression. It was all business today and I was no longer in her direct chain of command.

The renders were the Pack’s elite soldiers, as close to a biological weapon of mass destruction as you could get. They were strong, fast, and precise, and if Andrea or Raphael went nuts because their baby was born loup, the two renders would do whatever they had to do to neutralize them.

Both Pearce and Jezebel were watching me carefully. They assessed me as a potential threat. They weren’t entirely wrong. If Andrea busted out of that door, carrying her child and trying to escape, I wasn’t sure what I would do. I would probably help her. It would be wrong and would make things harder on everyone, but in that moment she would be my friend running for her life and I would do what I had to do to keep her safe. The renders would present a formidable obstacle: Pearce was bad news from what little I could remember of him, and Jezebel would prove a problem. I had seen her take people down, and once she got her hands on them, they didn’t get back up.

I could see Jim’s hand all over this. Julie owed Jezebel her life for at least one incident. Jim handpicked Jezebel for this guard duty because he knew both Andrea and I would be reluctant to hurt her.

I would still fight them.

That was why I made a piss-poor Consort. Following the laws, even fair ones, was never my strongest suit.

Pearce rose and walked away. Jezebel and I kept eye contact, smiling at each other. The male render returned and sat back on the couch. Nobody said anything. I got up, took a paperback from a basket Doolittle kept by the door, and began reading.

We sat quietly for another half hour. Andrea would be fine. She would be completely fine. Her baby would be fine, too. I had gotten to the part where the diabolical serial killer had killed the heroine’s dog and burned down her apartment when the two renders sat a little straighter in their seats. I glanced at the door. Curran came in, making no sound as he moved. He sat next to me, picked up my hand, and squeezed it.

“Are you okay?”

No. “Yes.”

He kept his fingers wrapped around mine. Yeah, he wasn’t buying it. That’s the trouble with sharing your life with someone. They know when you bullshit.

The two renders relaxed.

“Called in the cavalry?” I asked them.

“Just being proactive,” Pearce said.

Jezebel gave me an apologetic look.

“Andrea and Raphael are members of the Pack,” Curran said. “The law is clear, and they know exactly what to do. You aren’t a member of the Pack and you’re the former Consort. It’s confusing, and renders don’t like confusing.”

“No, my lord,” Jezebel said. “We don’t.”

“Not your lord anymore.” Curran smiled at her.

“How did it go at the Guild?” I asked.

“It went fine. Had some minor annoying things to take care of. Anyway, Ascanio said you went to see the witches.”

My whole body tried to squeeze itself into a fist. “Later.”

Curran studied me. “Okay. Later.”

“Andrea’s been taking panacea,” I said.

“Yes.”

“She will be fine.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Her baby won’t go loup.” I was talking to myself now.

“It will be okay, baby.”

The double doors clanged open. The renders and I jumped to our feet. Curran wrapped his arms around me, pinning my back to his chest. Nasrin appeared in the doorway, her face tired.

I forgot how to breathe.

“Come on.” Nasrin stepped aside, letting us through.

We followed her through the doors. My heart was beating too fast. Andrea half lay, half sat on the bed, propped up on pillows, her blond hair damp, looking like she’d sprinted all the way to Florida and back. Raphael stood next to her with his back to us. Doolittle slumped in his wheelchair, exhausted. The rest of the people must’ve left through the side door.

Where was the baby?

Raphael turned. A small bundle of blankets rested in his arms. He moved one of the folds aside, revealing a tiny red squished face and a shock of dark hair.

“Beatrice Kate Medrano,” he said. “Named after her grandmother and you.”

“Me?”

“You. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have met,” he said.

Andrea opened her eyes and smiled. “We’re going to call her Baby B.”

“No trace of loupism,” Nasrin said behind us.

“Here.” Raphael handed me the baby.

Aaa!

“It’s okay.” Andrea chuckled. “She isn’t made of glass.”

I very carefully took the baby. She was so tiny. So light. Her little hands were curled into fists. There was nothing and now there was a life. A little tiny helpless life.

I stood perfectly still and watched her breathe. She was full of light. It seemed to stream from her little plump cheeks and her dark eyelashes, suffusing her whole body. Her fingers were so tiny.

“Someone take my baby before Kate faints,” Andrea said.

I realized I’d been holding my breath.

Curran gently took her out of my hands, held her for a long moment, and passed her to Raphael. Raphael sat on the bed next to Andrea and murmured something I couldn’t quite catch. Andrea’s eyes shone. Such a happy, content light. She looked completely at peace.

In four weeks Atlanta would burn.

Curran’s hand rested on my shoulder.

Atlanta would burn, and Baby B’s world would change. She wouldn’t know it, because she was a tiny baby. But my father would reach out and strangle her future.

I didn’t want her to die before she had a chance to grow up. I didn’t want her to be enslaved. I didn’t want her to go to sleep in our world and wake up in my father’s and then grow up thinking that was the way things were supposed to be.

“Kate?” Curran said. “Baby?”

The magic seethed under my skin. “I need some air.”

I turned and walked away, down the hallway. My legs carried me outside, onto the top of a short stone tower. Sunshine hit me. I inhaled, breathing deeply, feeling my lungs expand.

I had to stop this from coming. I had to.

“Hey.” Curran blocked the daylight.

“Hey.”

“Looking grim, ass kicker. Rough day?”

“I’ve had worse.”

“Are you going to tell me what the witches said or do I have to ask our minister?”

He’d put two and two together.

“In about a month there will be a battle,” I said. “Atlanta will burn. If we marry, you die. Roland kills you. I watched it happen.”

I didn’t want to tell him about our son. Not yet. When we talked about the future, he always talked about children. His father died protecting him, and Curran would do the same for our son. I had to shield him from knowing our baby might not have a chance. It was enough I knew. Telling him about it changed nothing at this point, except to pile more weight on him.

He shrugged. “I don’t care. I’m not going to live my life according to someone else’s vision. Your father can’t dictate it. The witches can’t dictate it. The only question that matters is do you want to marry me?”

“Yes.”

“Then we get married. Fuck them.” He put his arm around me and squeezed me to him. “If I’m going to die, I’d rather die married to you. But more important, what makes you think I’ll roll over?”

“I didn’t say you would. I have no plans to roll over. I want to win, but I don’t know how.”

I looked past the Keep’s courtyard and the clear stretch of cut grass between the walls, to where the woods met the horizon. Somewhere out there my father was adding the tower to his castle. I had no doubt of it. The vision showed it complete. I would pull it down.

“We win the old-fashioned way,” he said. “We outthink him and we fight. We’ll do what we always do.”

It wouldn’t be enough, but if I said that, he’d tell me we wouldn’t find out until we tried. That’s what I would’ve said back to him.

“It could be worse,” he said.

“How?”

“We could be fighting him and your aunt.”

My memory served up Erra dying on the snow.

“She talked to me before she died.”

“What did she say?”

“She said, ‘Live long, child. Live long enough to see everyone you love die. Suffer the way I did.’”

In that moment on the snow, exhausted and bleeding, all I cared about was killing her and making sure Curran and I survived. Now I finally got it.

“She didn’t want to go through all this again.” I glanced at the woods in front of us. “The land, my father’s mind games, killing people . . . I think she decided she was done and the only way it would be over was if she died or he did. She let me kill her.”

And I was a lot like my aunt. More than I cared to admit. Neither of us was well suited for diplomacy. The only reason I had lasted this long was because both Curran and Barabas pulled me back from the edge whenever I tried to charge it. My father had to have realized that left to my own devices, I’d snap and attack him.

“Your aunt fought plenty,” Curran said. “Besides, Roland was the one who told you that. I don’t trust his bullshit.”

“Well, it bit him in the ass. I told him that even his own sister didn’t want to live in the world he made.”

Curran laughed.

“What?”

“You always know how to get under someone’s skin.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s your superpower. Trust me, I know.”

He looked at me and laughed harder.

“What?”

“I love when you bare your teeth at me. All the shapeshifter living has been rubbing off on you. You’d make such a cute shapeshifter.”

“I will fucking throw you off this tower.”

“You and what army?” He spread his arms. “Give it all you’ve got, baby.”

I thought about it and shook my head.

The smile vanished from his face. “Okay, now I am worried.”

Live long enough to see everyone you love die.

She must’ve loved someone. She must’ve mourned him. She talked about her sons and having to kill them when they turned into homicidal psychopaths . . .

It hit me like a freight train. Wow.

This was a very stupid idea. An idiotic, stupid, suicidal idea.

Find a Rubicon to cross. I’ll show you a Rubicon. This wasn’t just crossing it, this was setting it on fire and blowing it up.

“Do you remember when we went to the Black Sea and you pretended to be infatuated with Lorelei?”

“Not that again.” His face shut down.

“I’m going to do something very dangerous and stupid. I’ve done some idiotic things in my life, but this takes the cake.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

Gold rolled over his eyes. “What do you mean, no?”

“If I tell you, you will stop me from doing it.”

“Now you have to tell me.”

I shook my head. “I’m calling in the Lorelei favor. You have to let me run with this.”

“Kate!”

“No.” He would blow a gasket. If someone had told me my brilliant idea an hour ago, I’d have laughed and then bashed their face in.

“Tell me.”

He was a cat and a control freak. It was killing him not to know.

“No. But I wanted to be up front and tell you that I have a plan and I’m going to have to leave the city for a few days.” If I just disappeared, he would freak out and tear Atlanta apart to find me.

The beginning of a snarl rumbled in his throat. “You will tell me.”

“Curran, please don’t fight with me. Please. I’m at the end of my rope and I just saw the light at the end of the tunnel.”

He snarled, frustration exploding out of him. “Fine. Am I allowed to help with your crazy scheme?”

“Can you rescue Saiman?”

“If I rescue Saiman, will you tell me?”

“If you rescue Saiman and things work out, it will all be in the open by the time I come back.”

He circled me, stalking. “Or you could tell me now.”

“My father thinks he has it all figured out. He’s pushed us into a corner. He thinks we’re trapped. But he doesn’t get to win, Curran. He doesn’t get to win. He won’t destroy Baby B’s world, he won’t get to ruin our marriage, and he won’t . . .”—get his hands on our son—“. . . he won’t win. I won’t let him.”

“That’s better,” he said, and his smile had a vicious edge to it. “That’s my Kate.”

He closed the distance between us fast and kissed me.

“I love you,” I told him.

“I will bring you Saiman,” he said. “I promise you, he’ll be alive. And then you will tell me everything.”

“Yes,” I promised. “I will.”