Sebastian

Chapter Twelve

Sebastian and Lynnea crossed over the bridge that connected Sanctuary to Nadia’s home landscape and stepped into a clearing filled with sunlight.

Sebastian threw an arm up over his eyes and blinked away the tears caused by the unexpected brightness.

“Daylight,” he muttered, lowering his arm a little so he could squint at the land around them.

“Yes,” Lynnea said, looking up at the sky. “It’s a lovely day, even if it is a bit overcast.”

Overcast? This wasn’t bright?

With his face still safely hidden by his arm, he grimaced at the prim tone in her voice. She’d been sounding like that since they woke up—as if they’d slept on opposite sides of the bed instead of being twined around each other.

And did she appreciate the fact that he had untwined himself instead of rolling that little bit necessary to bring her under him and feed the hunger she stirred in him? No, apparently she did not.

And the way she’d pulled his underwear out of the pack, with thumb and forefinger, as if it were encrusted with who knew what instead of being clean—and then calling it his “unmentionables.” When he pointed out it was called underwear, she told him it wasn’t made out of enough material to mention.

He’d never had any complaints. In fact, most women liked that next-to-nothing he wore under his pants.

And she wouldn’t have said anything either if you’d made love to her last night instead of acting like some prissy prig human. “I can’t,” you said. As if being a virgin meant the country girl couldn’t figure out what was making that lump in your pants. And you let her curl up on her side of the bed without explaining that it wasn’t your body that was having trouble where she was concerned. Not that you’re ever going to explain that—for both your sakes.

She’d gotten back at him, even if she didn’t know it. After she’d fallen asleep and he’d cuddled up against her, her dreams had shifted to a sweet erotica that didn’t go nearly far enough to satisfy the hunger in him—and left him panting with the effort to remain a passive participant instead of sliding deeper into the dream, as he’d done with so many other women, and taking her to the limits of his experience rather than remaining confined by the limits of hers.

But he hadn’t done that. Being so close to her physically, he couldn’t resist the lure of her dreams, but he’d held himself at the edge. Because she was innocent. Because she belonged in a landscape that saw the sun rise and set.

Because he was scared to death that if he had her once he wouldn’t be able to let her go.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asked, lowering his arm the rest of the way now that he could squint at the light without feeling like his eyeballs would cook.

“I’m not mad at you.”

The words said one thing; the tone of voice said something else. Definitely still mad at him. And it was funny, in a tear-your-hair-out kind of way. For all his experience with women, he’d never had to deal with moods. When the woman got moody, it was time to leave and become someone else’s fantasy lover.

But human men lived with female moods day after day, month after month, year after year.

They were out of their minds.

And he envied every one of them.

He looked around the clearing. In Sanctuary, the bridge that crossed over to this landscape was a simple wooden bridge that spanned a piece of a water garden. Lee had called it a one-way stationary bridge, which he hadn’t understood at the time. Now he did.

In this landscape, the bridge was just the space between two large stones set in the middle of the clearing—a space wide enough for a handcart but nothing bigger. And on this side, it was a resonating bridge.

Since he’d never heard of a bridge being stationary on one side and resonating on the other, he wondered if this was another unique aspect of Lee’s gift.

“Lee said to take the right-hand path when it forks,” Sebastian said, taking Lynnea’s stiff hand and leading her toward the edge of the clearing. “That will take us to Aunt Nadia’s house. She’ll be up by now.” He hoped.

The path out of the clearing was plain to see, but he wasn’t sure he would have found the fork if it hadn’t been for the sign nailed to a tree—a plain piece of wood with a bird etched into it.

“Don’t you ever visit your auntie?” Lynnea asked, censure now added to that prim tone.

“Three or four times a year,” Sebastian replied, feeling testy as they followed the barely visible path. “But I’ve never come here from that particular bridge.”

They walked in silence until the path ended at a break in the stone wall that separated the woodland from Nadia’s lawn and gardens. Releasing Lynnea’s hand, Sebastian stepped over the knee-high stones, then watched to make sure she didn’t stumble when she stepped through the break.

“Did something damage the wall?” Lynnea asked, sounding worried.

“Not as far as I know,” Sebastian replied, taking her hand again as he walked toward the house. “It’s been like that for as long as I can remember.”

“And you never offered to fix it for her? She’s your auntie.”

Another offense laid at his feet—as if he knew anything about fixing walls. Maybe Aunt Nadia knew how to deal with a woman in a snit. After all, she had a daughter, and, being older and sensible, she’d understand that by not becoming Lynnea’s lover, he was just doing what was right for once in his life.

The kitchen’s wood door was open to let in the fresh summer air. So were the windows. It looked dark inside the house compared to the daylight, but through the screen door, he thought he saw two people standing close together.

And something about the way they were standing…

“Hey-a!” he called. “Aunt Nadia!”

The figures jumped apart. One disappeared into another part of the house.

Sebastian strode up to the kitchen’s screen door and grabbed the handle just as Nadia hurried up to the door from the other side.

“Oh,” she said, looking—and sounding—flustered. “Sebastian. What a pleasant surprise.”

A surprise, anyway.

“You going to let me in?” Sebastian asked.

“Oh. Yes. Of course.”

As she unlatched the screen door and pushed it open, he kept his eyes on her face. But damn it all, he was an incubus, and she was wearing a summer dress, and it wasn’t his fault her nipples were acting perky enough to make little bumps in the thin material—and they were both going to get through this visit by pretending he didn’t know she wasn’t wearing anything under that dress.

“This is Lynnea,” Sebastian said, hauling his little rabbit into the kitchen. Maybe Lynnea, being another woman, could suggest that Nadia put a coat on over that dress.

“I’m pleased to meet you,” Nadia said.

“It’s early to be dropping in so sudden-like…” Lynnea stammered.

“Nonsense. I was just starting breakfast. Sit down. Be at home.”

“Can I help?”

“You could—”

A small blue-and-white bird hit the screen door between the kitchen and the adjoining room and started scolding.

“—entertain Sparky,” Nadia finished, walking over to that door. “Sebastian, make sure that outside door is closed properly.”

“You could always leave him there,” Sebastian said as he made sure the kitchen’s screen door was secured.

“He’ll just keep scolding if I do that, and then he’ll get the rest of them started and we’ll have to shout to hear one another.”

“Come on,” Sebastian said, cupping Lynnea’s elbow in his hand. “It’s safer sitting down.”

“What? Why?” Lynnea kept her eyes on the inside screen door while Sebastian guided her to a chair at the kitchen table.

Dropping into another chair, he watched Nadia open the door just enough to offer a hand for the bird to perch on. The scolding changed to excited chatter.

Did the chatterhead just stay on Nadia’s finger and look cute? Of course not. The moment the bird spotted him, Sparky zipped across the kitchen to land on top of Sebastian’s head.

“Pretty boy,” Sparky said, digging his sharp little nails into Sebastian’s scalp as he walked back and forth. Then he stopped and made kissy noises.

Sebastian raised his hand slowly, hoping the bird would take the hint and hop on his finger. He liked Sparky. He really did. But he liked the little chatterhead better when he could see what the bird was up to.

But the moment Sparky saw the hand, he began beating Sebastian’s head with his wings and scolding in a volume that made all the humans wince.

“Fine,” Sebastian grumbled, lowering his hand. “Have it your way.”

The scolding stopped; the wings were folded back. Sparky marched to the top of Sebastian’s forehead, leaned over, and said, “Behave.”

“Oh,” Lynnea said. “He’s adorable. Do you think he’d come to me?” She held up a hand.

With an extra dig of his nails that Sebastian knew was deliberate, Sparky flew over to Lynnea to be properly admired. While woman and bird exchanged “Pretty birds,” Sebastian started to ease out of his chair, intending to give Nadia a hand with breakfast.

Then Sparky said, “Kismrz.”

Settling back in his chair, Sebastian said, “Sparky is a keet. The species originally came from a distant landscape. Isn’t that right, Aunt Nadia?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Nadia replied as she laid strips of bacon into a skillet.

“They’re bright little birds,” Sebastian continued. “And they can talk. Some things they learn because a person teaches them. And sometimes they hear something often enough that they just pick it up. Thing is, if the words aren’t enunciated clearly, the bird might not pick up all the sounds.”

Lynnea gave Sparky a delighted smile. “Do you think he was trying to say something?”

Nadia, who was busy pouring egg batter into another skillet, didn’t answer.

Oh, yeah, Sebastian thought, watching his aunt. I think he was trying to say something. What I want to know is why Sparky would hear “kiss me” often enough to have learned it.

As if in answer, someone tapped on the screen door—and Nadia dropped the fork she was using to turn the bacon.

“Jeb,” Nadia said as she picked up the dirty fork. “Come in. You’re just in time for breakfast.” She put the fork in the sink, got a clean one out of the drawer, then turned back to her cooking.

Sebastian swiveled in his chair as the screen door opened, noticing how Jeb pulled the door open just enough to slip inside and paused to make sure it was properly latched. A frequent visitor, then. One who didn’t need to be told that some of Nadia’s birds might be loose in the house.

“Hey-a,” Jeb said as he removed his cap and put it on a peg next to the door.

“Hey-a,” Sebastian replied.

“Ah…Jeb, this is my nephew, Sebastian, and his friend Lynnea,” Nadia said.

Sebastian gave Jeb a smile that was brilliant and insincere. “You’re getting a lot of company for breakfast this morning,” he said, glancing at his aunt. He didn’t think the heat from the stove was the reason her face was flushed.

“Jeb is a neighbor,” Nadia said, taking plates and mugs out of the cupboards.

Taking the plates and mugs from her, Jeb set the table. “I help Nadia with some chores from time to time. I’m a woodworker by trade, so I’m handy with my hands.”

“I’m sure you are,” Sebastian said pleasantly. And wasn’t it interesting that this neighbor had been in such a hurry to help out with some chores that he hadn’t taken the time to button his shirt properly.

Nadia thumped a rack of toast on the table, which startled Sparky into another scold.

“Feed him some toast,” Nadia snapped. “Maybe that will keep him quiet.”

Taking the hint, Sebastian helped himself to a piece of toast, breaking off a corner for Lynnea to feed to Sparky, while Jeb poured koffee for all of them and Nadia dished out the bacon and eggs.

He’d managed to put two women in a snit before breakfast. Was that some kind of record?

He filled Lynnea’s plate, since Sparky was perched on her wrist and didn’t seem interested in going anywhere—and smiled at her when the stiff silence of the other two people at the table finally broke through her enchantment with the bird.

They didn’t linger over the meal. When Jeb pushed his chair back, thanked Nadia for breakfast, and offered to take care of a few of the chores, Sebastian said, “I’ll give you a hand”—and ignored the sharp look Nadia gave him as he followed Jeb out the door.

Lynnea kept her eyes on the bird dozing on her wrist. Such a small creature, but joyful and loving. What would it be like to have something that would love her just for being there, just for loving it in return? A companion that wouldn’t criticize or think her inadequate?

She’d felt the tension during breakfast, but she hadn’t known the cause. She hadn’t known what to do or say. And she’d been afraid that the tension would change to anger funneled toward her if she didn’t stay quiet.

But now Sebastian was outside helping Jeb, and a tigress wouldn’t cower at the thought of saying something to a nice woman.

“You have a lovely home,” she said, looking around the kitchen. And it was lovely. Comfortable and warm. Welcoming. It reminded her of Sebastian’s cottage. A place she’d probably never see again.

“Thank you. It’s been in my family for several generations.” Nadia stood up and began scraping the remains of their meal onto a single plate.

“Can I help?”

Nadia smiled and looked at Sparky. “You are.” She stacked the plates. “Have you known Sebastian long?”

“Not long. And, I guess, not for much longer.”

“What makes you say that?”

Her face burned with the shame of failure—and the shame of wanting. So she kept her eyes on the bird when she said, “He won’t have sex with me.”

Nadia bobbled the dishes, almost dropping the stack. “What do you mean, he won’t have sex with you?”

“He won’t. He says he can’t, but he could if he wanted to. I may not know a lot about…sex things…but I know enough to know that when a man’s…stuff…sticks out like that, he wants sex.”

Nadia set the dishes back down on the table. “And Sebastian’s…stuff…sticks out when he’s around you?”

Lynnea nodded. “But he won’t do anything, even though I’m a trollop.”

Nadia sank into the chair. “Trollop?”

“I’m a bad person. That’s why I ended up in the Den. If I’m a bad person, why can’t I have sex with a man who makes my heart feel so strange? When he kissed me, it felt wonderful. I felt wonderful. Like the tigress spell he put on me was still working, and I was still strong and powerful.”

“I think,” Nadia said slowly, “that I should put on another pot of koffee. Then you can tell me the whole story of how you came to the Den and about this spell Sebastian put on you.”

Sebastian waited until they’d fallen into the rhythm of filling the watering cans from the buckets drawn from the well.

“So,” he said while he watched Jeb carefully soak the ground in one of the flower beds, “how long have you been sleeping with Aunt Nadia?”

Jeb hesitated a moment, then moved over to the next part of the bed. “Don’t rightly know that it’s any of your business.”

“What about Lee? Is it his business?”

“No, I don’t reckon it is. Nadia is a grown woman, well able to make up her own mind about such things.”

“So you just sneak over here a couple times a week for some—”

Jeb dropped the watering can and straightened up. “You’ve no call to be saying things that would shame your auntie. No call. She’s a fine woman. The best I’ve ever known.”

Sebastian gauged the anger in Jeb’s eyes. Not the bluster of a man caught doing something he shouldn’t but the anger of a man defending something—or someone—that mattered to him. “Do you love her?”

“I do.” With a mild curse, Jeb reached down and righted the watering can, which had spilled out too much water on that flower bed. “I’m content with the way things are between us. I’d like more, but until Nadia’s ready, I’m content with how things are.” He took off his cap, slapped it against his thigh, then settled it on his head again. “I can’t say what Lee does or doesn’t know, but if it sets your mind at ease, Glorianna is…aware…of how things stand between Nadia and me.”

“And you’re still here,” Sebastian murmured.

“I’m still here.”

It wasn’t that he objected to two people—two humans—having sex without marriage. And it wasn’t as if he didn’t know what men and women did together—and why. But he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around Aunt Nadia panting and moaning under a man—or over a man.

“What about you?” Jeb demanded. “You sleeping with that girl?”

Already off balance, he felt as if the question mentally knocked him on his ass. “We slept together,” he stammered. “There was only one bed in the room, so we slept together. But we didn’t…we haven’t…” He raised a hand as if to gesture, then let it fall back to his side. “Daylight,” he muttered. “I never thought I’d be having this conversation.”

“Comes as a surprise to me, too,” Jeb admitted. He scratched the back of his neck. “Thought you were an incubus.”

“So did I.”

“Ah.”

Flustered and embarrassed, Sebastian looked around the garden…and remembered why he’d come here.

“You live far from here, Jeb?”

“Just a few minutes’ walk along that path,” Jeb replied, pointing in the general direction. “Have a nice little cottage. Too small for someone thinking of raising a family, but it suits me. And I took it on because the barn makes a good workshop, gives me plenty of room to store my wood and build things.”

“But it’s still a distance from here.” Sebastian hesitated. Jeb had a bit of a drawl, which indicated that he’d come to this landscape from another place at some point in his life. But his manner still said “country” rather than “city,” and folks from a country landscape could be earthy and easy or as prim and starched as an old spinster’s knickers when it came to men and women. “You should move in with Nadia. You should live here.”

“Now, wait up a minute.”

“Trouble’s coming.” Sebastian glanced toward the kitchen windows and lowered his voice. “Bad trouble. Landscapers have died. That’s what I came to tell Aunt Nadia.”

“And you think something will try to hurt Nadia?”

He nodded. “Not only is she a strong Landscaper in her own right; she’s Belladonna’s mother. So I’m asking you, Jeb. What if being a few minutes away is too far away?”

“I…I have my work. Wouldn’t be easy to move my workshop. At least, not quickly. And Nadia has to tend her landscapes. I can’t be with her then.”

“But at night,” Sebastian persisted. “Here, at night.”

Jeb looked uncomfortable. “Aurora is a small village. What people suspect and what they know can make a difference. It’s your auntie’s reputation we’re talking about.”

“It’s my aunt’s life we’re talking about.”

Jeb nodded. “All right, then. I’ll talk to Nadia. That’s all I can promise to do.” He paused, then added, “What about you and the girl?”

“I belong in the Den. She belongs someplace else.”

“And you can live with that?”

“I have to live with that,” he snapped.

Jeb took off his cap and turned it round and round in his hands. “You asked me a question, and I know how my heart wants to answer. So I’ll ask you the same question. If you send her off to some landscape you think is the right place for her, someplace that’s more than a few minutes’ walk down a path…”

“This is different. The Den isn’t safe!”

“Will any place be safe?” Jeb asked quietly. “How will you feel if this trouble skips over the Den and lands square in the middle of this place you think is so safe and you can’t reach her?”

The thought made him sick. “I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“I can see that. But Sebastian? Sometimes doing the right thing isn’t the right thing to do.”

“Here,” Nadia said, caging the keet between her hands. “It’s time for him to go back in his cage.”

“Oh,” Lynnea said. It had been easier to tell Nadia about her life with Mam, Pa, and Ewan while she kept her eyes on the bird. Much easier to admit the thing Pa had tried to do that had led to her being sent away. When she’d told Nadia about the water and the sand, the older woman’s hands had trembled. But what had her stumbling was talking about Sebastian and those hours when he’d made her a tigress and she’d seen what it could be like to live without fear.

But even Sebastian was trying to send her away. He’d wanted her to stay in Sanctuary. He hadn’t argued when she’d told him she wanted to go with him to his aunt’s house, but he’d made it clear enough that he didn’t want her going back to the Den with him.

“Now,” Nadia said, returning to the table, “what do you want, Lynnea?”

I want Sebastian. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re free of the life you had. You have a chance at a new beginning. Where would you like to go?”

“I want to go back to the Den.” She didn’t have to think about that. It was a dark place, and a strange place, but she felt safe there. “But Sebastian doesn’t want—”

“Darling, Sebastian does want. That’s what has him tangled up in knots where you’re concerned.” Nadia smiled. “Don’t you see? If you’d been nothing more than a woman who had aroused his body, he would have been your lover by now.”

“But he knows I’m not…that I haven’t…”

“He’s an incubus. That wouldn’t have mattered in the least. But you’ve done more than arouse his body, Lynnea. You’ve touched his heart, and that’s something I’ve hoped would happen to him—that he would find someone who touched his heart.” Nadia patted Lynnea’s hand. “Frustrating for you, I know, and doubly so for him, I imagine.”

“He still doesn’t want me to go back to the Den.”

“That’s not his decision, is it?”

Lynnea looked at Nadia. She’d always been told where to go and what to do. “But—”

“Your life, your journey, your choice. Your opportunity.” Nadia leaned back. “Have you ever tossed a coin into a wish well?”

“Once. Just a penny.”

“The amount doesn’t matter,” Nadia said. “It’s how much heart is put into the wish.”

“But nothing happened.”

“Oh? And just how do you think the wish wells work?”

“You hold a coin, make a wish, toss the coin in the well as a tribute to the Guides. And then if you’re meant to have it, your wish will come true.”

Nadia sighed. “Yes, I suppose that’s how most people think it works. This is how it does work. You make a wish and toss a coin in the well as a declaration of your intention to have something in your life. Then what do you do?”

Lynnea shook her head to indicate that she didn’t know.

Nadia’s voice took on the tartness of impatience. “You roll up your sleeves and you work to make it happen.”

“But I don’t know how to make it happen!”

“Opportunity and choice, Lynnea. What the heart truly desires doesn’t come to you overnight, and it doesn’t always come in the way you imagined.”

Lynnea nibbled on her thumbnail. “Maybe I could find work in the Den. Maybe I could work for Philo. I know how to cook and bake. I know how to clean, wash dishes. I’d need to find a place to live.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Nadia said dryly. She pushed her chair back and stood up. “I’d better put something on under this dress before I shock my nephew more than I already have. Then, I think, it’s time to find out why Sebastian is here.”

Thank all the Guardians of the Light, Sebastian thought when he saw Nadia and Lynnea walk out of the house. Nadia had put something on under that dress. He’d already seen more of his aunt than he wanted to.

“Jeb?” Nadia called. “Why don’t you show Lynnea the flower gardens?” After giving Lynnea a friendly push, she walked off in the opposite direction, toward the back of her personal garden.

Figuring that was his cue to have a private talk with Nadia, Sebastian set the watering can down and followed his aunt. He caught up to her when she stopped at the fountain and frowned.

“The statue is gone,” she said, sounding annoyed and resigned but not terribly worried.

“Statue?”

“The statue the three of you bought me for my birthday one year. It’s gone.”

Being related to Nadia and Glorianna, he knew more about how the Landscapers’ magic worked than most people. His heart raced as too many awful possibilities leaped through his mind. “Someone stole it?”

“‘Stole’ is a harsh word, since I know Glorianna took it. I told her it wasn’t necessary, but I think she’s going to alter the landscapes to bring Aurora and all my other landscapes into her garden.”

His heart still raced, but the feeling of relief that swept through him left him shaky. “Good. That’s good.”

“It’s not good. She has enough to deal with without taking on more.”

“Aunt Nadia. There’s something I have to tell you.”

Nadia stared at the fountain. “The Eater of the World is loose among the landscapes. I know, Sebastian. Glorianna already warned me.”

“Does she know about the school?”

Frowning, Nadia looked at him. “What about the school?”

He rested his hands on her shoulders, offering silent comfort. “The Eater has taken over the school. The place is crawling with Its creatures.” Even through the thin material, he felt her skin growing cold beneath his hands as her face paled. “The Landscapers are dead, Aunt Nadia. The Bridges are dead. Everyone who was at the school—”

“Lee?”

“We saw him in Sanctuary. He knows. He said he was going to break the bridges that linked Glorianna’s landscapes to any others.”

Nadia sank to the ground. Sebastian dropped to his knees with her, holding her upright while she swayed.

“Aunt Nadia?” he asked sharply. He wouldn’t like it if she fainted, but he could deal with it. What brought him close to panic was the fear that he’d shocked her so much she was having some kind of attack.

“We’re the only ones left?” Nadia whispered. “Glorianna and I are the only Landscapers left?”

Sebastian rubbed her arms. “Maybe not. Plenty of Landscapers would have been traveling, checking up on their landscapes, so—”

“But they don’t know!” Nadia’s voice rose.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sebastian saw Jeb look in their direction and take a step toward them. Saw Lynnea reach out and stop him.

“The Landscapers who are traveling won’t know about the danger.” Nadia sounded panicked.

“If the Eater tries to connect one of Its bad landscapes to a daylight one, people will notice. Word will spread, right?” He wasn’t sure why he was arguing, since Lee had already told him what could happen to Ephemera without the Landscapers, but seeing Nadia distraught had him grasping for anything that might steady her.

Then something occurred to him. “Even if the surviving Landscapers have to use bridges to avoid going back to the school, and even if the Eater has been in a landscape, the Landscaper who controls that piece of Ephemera will be able to alter it back to—”

“No.”

“Glorianna did it,” Sebastian insisted. “The Eater had connected one of Its landscapes to the Den, and she altered the Den to break that connection.”

Nadia looked at him, her dark eyes full of despair. “Glorianna is the only Landscaper who can alter landscapes like that. The only one who can rearrange pieces of the world, bringing them together to form a new pattern. The only one, Sebastian.”

He sat back on his heels. “Then she’s the only real enemy this thing has, isn’t she?”

“Yes, she is. And the landscapes she holds will be islands connected with one another but no longer quite part of the world, like a reflection you can see in a pool of still water, but when you turn to look at it directly, it isn’t there.”

Food, clothing, metal for tools, wood for building and fuel. How many of those things were in Glorianna’s landscapes?

“Well,” Nadia said. “There’s nothing we can do right this moment, so we’d best get on with the business of living.”

Rising swiftly, Sebastian helped her to her feet.

“Aunt Nadia, about Lynnea…”

“She wants to go back to the Den.”

“No.”

“Her life, her journey, her choice.”

“I won’t take her back to the Den.”

“Then she’ll have to find her own way back.”

Let Lynnea stumble around trying to find a bridge back to the Den? Unthinkable. Even if Nadia escorted Lynnea to the bridge he’d always taken to go back home after visiting here, there was no guarantee Lynnea would arrive at the Den.

Doing his best to look and sound menacing, he said, “If I take her back, I’ll take her.” Surely Nadia understood that message.

“It’s about time you stopped dithering and got down to it.”

His mouth fell open.

Amused, Nadia patted his cheek, then headed toward the part of her garden where Lynnea and Jeb were pretending to admire the flowers.

He ran to catch up to her, then grabbed her arm to slow her down.

“Aunt Nadia, I don’t think you understood—”

“I’m a grown woman, and I’ve had my share of lovers. I know exactly what you meant.”

“Lovers? Lovers?”

“Well, no one else since Jeb and I—”

“Have pity on me.”

Nadia laughed. “Very well. If you don’t ask about my sex life, I won’t ask about yours.”

“Right now, I don’t have one.”

She stopped before they got close enough to be overheard. “Tell me something, Sebastian. How long has it been since you’ve walked in daylight?”

“I…don’t know. A few years.”

She nodded. “That’s a long time. Even when you came to visit, you never showed up until the sun set—and you never stayed long enough to see the sun rise.”

Couldn’t. Especially in the last year or so. He wanted to see it, but it was the cruelest reminder of what he’d left behind when he’d turned his back on the daylight landscapes—because it was the one thing he’d truly loved about those landscapes.

“You may want to consider why you’re standing here in daylight,” Nadia said quietly. “Opportunity and choice, Sebastian. Lynnea isn’t the only one making a journey.”

He looked over at his little rabbit, who raised her chin as if getting ready to fight.

You started this, he thought. You’re the one who gave her a taste of being a tigress.

He walked over to her.

“I’m going back to the Den,” she said, sounding scared and defiant.

“I know.” He still thought she was making a bad choice, but he was too glad to have her with him a little while longer to argue about it anymore.

It moved through the landscapes, smothering the flickers of Light It found in the places Its lesser enemies, the Landscapers, hadn’t valued enough to give more than token protection. So easy to create an anchor for one of Its landscapes. Ephemera barely resisted when It imposed Its will in those places. But the shining landscapes, the places that would be such a feast when It destroyed the Light…It couldn’t find a way into those places. No matter how It twisted and turned through the landscapes, It couldn’t find a way in. And that dark landscape, that delicious hunting ground. It could feel the edges of that place, but no matter how hard It tried, It couldn’t breach the wall that surrounded the Den of Iniquity.

So many thoughts focused on a single thing, so sure that single thing would keep them safe.

Sebastian. Sebastian. Sebastian.

Humans and demons alike believed in this thing called Sebastian that kept It away from the Den itself, leaving It with no access except for the two anchors It had already established in the dark landscape that bordered the hunting ground.

What enraged It even more was the certainty that the choicest hunting grounds were landscapes controlled by the True Enemy. What troubled It was the feel of the Dark currents in the spots where It had managed to create anchor points in those landscapes. The old Enemies, the Guides, that had fought and caged It so long ago had resonated with the Light and held only a thread of the Dark. But this one held the Light and the Dark in equal measure. This one could do what the old Enemies never could: she could control Its dark landscapes.

She had to be destroyed before she realized how powerful she truly was.

But this time It wouldn’t be the one fighting against the Enemy. This time It would have friends.

It moved along the steep northern slope of Wizard City, a rippling shadow. It had found the Dark Ones’ weakness, the thing they feared to lose. In spider form, It had climbed the wall of the building to be sure anyone standing at a particular window would see what It wanted him to see.

Ready now, It reached out with a mental tentacle for the Dark One. It didn’t try to slip into that mind unobserved. It made Its presence felt—and relished the fear that flooded that mind before the feeling was controlled.

Come to the window, It whispered. Look at the steep land. Watch. It withdrew the tentacle, knowing the Dark One would obey.

Choosing ground that was a short distance from a flock of sheep grazing on the hillside, It altered the grass into a large patch of rust-colored sand, changing that piece of Wizard City into the bonelovers’ landscape.

Then It waited until It sensed the Dark One’s presence.

The simpleminded animals began to bleat and move away as It rippled beneath them. Already primed to bolt, they panicked when It transformed part of Itself and tentacles burst out of the ground in the middle of the flock. The ones in front of It ran straight into the patch of sand—and disappeared.

Satisfied, It pulled the tentacles into the earth, changing them back into Its natural form.

It felt the Dark One’s mind reaching out. Hesitant. Afraid.

We helped you, the Dark One said. All these years, we sent you prey.

More prey found its own way into my landscapes, It replied. You never freed me. Never tried.

We couldn’t! We didn’t know where the Landscapers had hidden—

Lies. It waited, savoring the fear.

What do you want?

The True Enemy must be destroyed. She is one; you are many. It will be easy for you to destroy her.

We’ve tried to destroy Belladonna!

A shudder went through It. Belladonna. The first male It had killed at the Landscapers’ School had used that word as a shield for a kernel of hope. Now It knew what the word meant.

Destroy the True Enemy, It insisted.

Why can’t you destroy her?

A thread of hope flowed through the words, enraging It. The Dark One was too fearful to hide his thoughts completely. He hoped It and the True Enemy would destroy each other. Foolish creature, to think that It had learned nothing from Its prey when It had spent so much time absorbing Its prey’s deepest fears.

Don’t you want to be friends?

We are your friends!

Prove it. It projected an image of the females It had found—the females that had been hidden for generations. Destroy the True Enemy—or something besides sheep will disappear in the bonelovers’ landscape.

It felt the Dark One’s fear spike.

We…We will find a way to destroy Belladonna. The Dark One hesitated. Is there anything else we must do to prove we are friends?

It considered for a moment, thought about the dark hunting ground It wanted to claim for Itself. Yes. Destroy the thing called Sebastian.

Glorianna walked the paths in her walled garden, the statue of the sitting woman cradled in her arms, an old piece of towel tossed over her shoulder. Fifteen years ago, she had done what Nadia had asked—she had removed all the access points from her garden at the school and had rebuilt her garden on this small island. Then she had altered the landscapes, hiding this place so well it could not be found by conventional means.

Its existence was known in Sanctuary, but the Keepers of the Light did not talk to outsiders about the Island in the Mist—unless heart’s need compelled them to speak.

The wizards could not find her here. The Eater of the World could not find her here. The only way to reach this island was through Sanctuary, and Sanctuary was held, protected, within the walls of her garden.

She could feel the connection between her landscapes and the rest of Ephemera breaking, setting these pieces of the world adrift, anchored only to one another.

Ephemera. As solid and strong as stone, as delicate as a dream.

And if she was successful, the dream would not become a nightmare.

She just didn’t know how she was supposed to fight something like the Eater of the World. And if she did manage to find It and fight It, she didn’t know how a single Landscaper could win that fight when it had taken so many like her to contain the Eater the first time.

“Stop dithering,” she muttered. “You’ll reach that battle when you reach it. You know what needs to be done now.” She turned around and walked to the front part of her gardens.

She hadn’t spent the past hour wandering the paths in order to decide where to put the statue that would anchor Nadia’s home. She already had an access point to her family home—a bed of flowers she had grown from seeds and cuttings from Nadia’s personal gardens. Near the front of the bed was a large piece of slate. She’d always intended to use the slate as a foundation for some kind of decorative ornament, but she’d never found anything that felt right.

Going down on her knees, she set the statue on the slate, turning it this way and that until she had it positioned exactly the way she wanted it. Then, with her hands resting on the statue, she called to Ephemera and altered the landscapes, breaking some bonds and forming others, rearranging the pieces and shaping new borders and boundaries.

The sun was low in the sky when she finally sat back.

Some strange pairings. Some unexpected borders. She didn’t always know why two seemingly different landscapes resonated with each other, but she didn’t doubt what she’d done.

Getting to her feet, she took a deep breath, then clamped a hand over her mouth when the exhalation came out as a sob. No. She couldn’t waver. This next task made her sick at heart, but she couldn’t waver.

Clenching her fists, she strode deep into her gardens to an odd little bed that sat alone and contained nothing but one heart’s hope plant and a brick.

She rested her fingers on the brick and felt the Dark nibbling around the edges of this small landscape. The Eater didn’t recognize what this was or why the Dark currents didn’t quite resonate with the Dark in the rest of the city, but given enough time, It would.

Pulling the piece of towel off her shoulder, she spread it on the ground in front of the bed, then picked up the brick and wrapped it in the towel.

Racing to finish this task before the sun set, she picked up the wrapped brick and ran to the sheltered horseshoe of rock where she kept the boat the River Guardians had made for her. Theirs were the only boats that could survive this part of the river.

Getting into the boat, she sat on the front seat, the wrapped brick in her lap, and emptied her mind of everything but the boat and the river.

The boat had no oars, no sails, no tiller. The will and the heart supplied those things.

Slowly, smoothly, the boat slipped out of the horseshoe of calm water into the churning power of the river. It cut across some currents, followed others, balanced and driven by the task of the person it held.

At the edge of that tangle of currents, she willed the boat to stop. Immediately a circle of calm water spread out around it.

Picking up the brick with both hands, she held it over the water.

It had been a foolish thing to do, decided in a moment of youthful anger and seasoned by the need to answer a need.

Opportunities and choices. A bitter farmer who still had a seed of kindness in him. She’d fed that seed a glimmer of Light, a ray of hope. He’d taken that glimmer back to a place in the city that was full of dark emotions and had sparked another glimmer. And another. And another. Kindness fed on kindness, and the Light grew. A few months later, when the resonance of that little piece of the city called to her, she’d crossed over and taken the brick to be her access point so she could continue to guide the currents of Light. She’d gone back a few times over the years to keep the resonance of that small landscape balanced, gambling that she wouldn’t run into Sebastian’s father, who was the only wizard who might recognize her.

Now…

She had to let them go—those people, that beacon of Light. Having a landscape within the walls of Wizard City had always been risky. Now it could endanger all the landscapes in her care. It could be the chink in the wall that gave the Eater of the World a chance to attack the stronghold of Light.

Her hands shook as she lowered the wrapped brick into the water.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Tears ran down her face. “I’m sorry.”

Why? something whispered. Why give them up? You worked so hard to help them. Don’t you want to help them?

Of course she wanted to help those people.

Then let them stay protected. Let them stay in the garden.

She felt it then—a Dark current that didn’t resonate with her. A malice behind the words assuring her she didn’t need to do this.

With a cry of anguish, she let go of the brick.

It sank fast, but the river’s currents cleansed it of all trace of her before it reached the bottom.

She huddled in the boat for a while, scared to the point of feeling sick.

She’d almost wavered. Even knowing that little landscape could be a danger to all her other landscapes, she’d almost wavered. Because something had gotten in just far enough to try to lure her into making an error. It had arrowed in on her own reluctance to abandon those people, sending them back to the mean existence they’d known when only the wizards’ influence had touched that part of the city. If she’d taken the brick back to her garden, the Eater might have found a way to use that small landscape to attack Sanctuary.

Weary to the bone and half-blinded by tears, she sat up and focused her will on guiding the boat, allowing no other thoughts until the boat was safely moored in the horseshoe of calm water.

As she stumbled her way to her house, she kept wondering if she’d truly done the right thing by letting that landscape go—or if this was her first failure in the battle to save the Light.