A Matter of Forever (Fate #4) Read online

  Kellan rubs at his hair, letting out a harsh breath of agreement that only hones my panic. Because Magicals are always able to surge with one another. Always. It may be tacky to do so without permission, and there’s a very good chance a nice, well-deserved headache will occur when forcibly ejected from another’s mind, but it’s something exclusive to our kind. Magicals are able to surge with others. Nobody’s mind is ever closed off. Ever.

  “Try again.”

  Jonah’s hands gently cup my face. And then ... nothing. No gentle tug signaling the link, no comforting familiarity. I don’t feel his mind in mine. Not even a hint of it.

  My panic turns razor sharp.

  He lets go and looks to his brother, and for someone so known for staying calm when others react, the fear and hopelessness in his eyes terrifies me.

  Kellan reaches down and lays his fingers against my temples, closing his eyes. Twenty seconds pass before he slowly shakes his head, his expression mirroring his twin’s.

  How can this be? “Neither of you can feel me? Or surge?”

  Before either answers, all of my resolutions to stay calm go flying out the window because I’m practically clawing at the sheets below as an anxiety attack tears through me. Kate is right. Something is very wrong with me, because if these two, the two people Connected to me, cannot feel me or surge with me—

  I’m panicking. Flat-out hysterical again, although thankfully tear-free this time. Jonah’s got a hold of me and he’s promising me that it’ll all be okay because I’m safe now. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? I’m not. They’re not. Somebody invaded my headspace; somebody is making it so nobody can even surge with me. And if I’m right about this somebody, nobody right now is safe.

  This needs to be the last time I let myself fall apart. I’ve got to pull myself together, because from here on out, there’s only one option left for me. I need to go after this monster metaphorical guns blazing, because I may not stand a chance otherwise.

  None of us will.

  When I was in high school, and many of our kind were being murdered, one of the Storytellers on the Council told me a story about the origin of the Magicals. To make a long story short, we were brought into existence by a Creator named Rudshivar; he was brought into existence by the first Creator, Enlilkian, who was also the head honcho of the Elders, and they did not get along due to philosophical differences about the way the worlds should work. A war broke out amongst the Magicals and the Elders; in the end, another Creator drained the life essences of the Elders dry before they were entombed underground by a Quake. Somehow these beings escaped and have been draining my kind dry in an effort to ... well, we really don’t know why, but it’s assumed to replenish what has been stolen.

  So many Magicals have died over the years. For a long time, we were all held hostage in fear by these monsters without a way to kill them. All we could do was either outrun them or try to defend ourselves against their attacks. I remember the first time they came after me—I was terrified. I’d never thought such ... evil, I guess, truly existed. But that was only the beginning; over the next few years, these things kept after me and my loved ones. According to the Guard, I’m a big catch for the Elders if they are, in fact, draining Magicals of their powers. So many resources and people were put into protecting me. Precious lives were lost in efforts to keep me safe. And that’s a heavy burden to bear, knowing teammates have perished or have been wounded in my name. The people and their sacrifices haunt me daily; they always will.

  Somehow while I was hiding in Alaska, though, I figured out (with Will’s help) that I could will the Elders out of existence much like my ancestors could. The first Elder I did this to just so happened to be Cailleache, the mother of all the Elders and wife to Enlilkian.

  I never learned the names of the others I took out over the last few months. I suppose it never mattered to me. They were killing my kind. People I loved were at risk. I did what I had to do.

  And now ...

  Now my gut tells me Enlilkian is somehow in Jens Belladonna’s body, like some twisted, terrifying horror movie about possession. And it’s truly, horribly ironic, because Belladonna loathed and believed me culpable of indescribable crimes. Jonah banished him from Annar after the former head of the Guard accused me of murder, but then he’d gone missing. Nobody had heard from him or seen him in months.

  Nobody but me.

  Back in that restaurant bathroom, Jens’ skin wasn’t right. It was flaky. Brittle. Like it was falling apart, or ... off, I guess. Like, maybe it was ... dead? Or dying? He couldn’t tell the difference between Jonah and Kellan, which okay, a lot of people can’t, but the head of the Guard should have been able to. He never called me by name, only by little Creator.

  Because to Enlilkian, that’s what I would be. He’s the big guy. The first. The father of us all. And I’m just the latest in a long line of those who followed after him.

  I keep these thoughts to myself for the rest of the day as I mull them over. I need to share my concerns with the twins, but right now I’m so beat it’s hard to keep my eyes open for longer than ten minutes at a stretch. It’s funny—I’ve been asleep for days, and here I am, wanting nothing more than to just turn myself over to a gentle dreamland. After my panic attack, neither Jonah nor Kellan pushed me any further with questioning and refused to let anybody else ask me anything either—not that they allowed anybody back into the room outside of Kate to even do so, but still. “We can discuss this tomorrow,” Jonah assured me. “Nothing has to be figured out tonight.”

  But it does, starting as soon as possible.

  So here we are, the three of us inside a guarded hospital room in the middle of Annar, watching a movie on the massive flat screen TV hanging on the wall in front of my bed and eating dinner. Well, they’re picking at their food; I’m not hungry in the slightest. Alongside being dog-tired, I’m furious. And frustrated. And, to be honest, very, very fearful. If I’m right about all of this, Enlilkian has figured out a way to inhabit the body of a powerful Magical, possibly even a dead one whose skin is decomposing. He was—and most likely still is—within Annar’s boundaries, despite the protective shields erected around our plane, ones I’ve personally helped fortify on a regular basis. He found me in a crowded restaurant and took me down with little to no effort.

  I hate that it was so easy for him. I hate that all it took was crushing my bones and I shattered like a porcelain doll. I’d tried to fight back, but it was pointless. Every move I made, he smoothly countered. And it’s maddening, because I’ve fought through pain before. Hell, every single time I go up against an Elder, I walk away with cuts and broken bones. This time, something was different, though. This time, the pain was blinding to the point words and thoughts would not string together coherently enough to set my will or any of wishes into action.

  He got into my head. And I think that’s the most terrifying thing of all.

  “Chloe? Are you okay?”

  I blink at the sweet touch of fingers against my cheek; a room bathed in hazy, filtered electronic light comes into focus. I force a smile onto my face, even though smiling is the last thing I want to do. I tell Jonah, “Yeah.”

  It’s obvious he doesn’t believe me. “You were shaking.”

  “I’m fine.” It’s my turn to touch his stubbled cheek. I kind of like this look on him. “Just tired.”

  Kellan stands up and stretches; I try not to stare at the sexy slice of smooth, tanned skin that winks from between shirt and shorts, but it’s hard. So, despite everything I thought earlier, I’m grateful neither can feel me in this moment. “You two should get some sleep. I’m going to go talk to Zthane and Karl about logistics.”

  Jonah sets his plate on a nearby table. “Don’t go far.”

  Familiar silence settles between them; I’ve lived through it enough to know they’re talking to each other their way. Eventually, Jonah asks, “How many?”

  Kellan’s eyes flit toward the door. “Seven.” Another bit of hushed un
ease spreads through the room before he adds, “Get some sleep, J. Nobody is getting through me tonight.”

  Jonah doesn’t say anything further out loud to his brother.

  Once Kellan slips out of the door, I weakly tug on Jonah’s shirt to bring him closer. There’s so much to say. He needs to know what I suspect. But right now, right here in his warm arms, all I want to do is follow his brother’s advice. Tomorrow, we’ll get to work.

  A gentle hand tugs through my hair. I’m safe. He’s here. We’re together. It’s enough for right now.

  We argue the next day when everyone else is finally allowed back into the room.

  I want to go home. Everyone else seems to think it’s best I stay in the hospital a few more days. I point out that Kate says I’m completely fine. I’m reminded that the hospital is secure. I contend my home can be equally secure as well. I’m a Creator, right? A nice guilt trip is offered up which insinuates I could be putting Cameron and Will at risk, which they gladly tell everyone they’re fine with, since my home is their home. While I’m not okay with my family being collateral damage, I counter that Jonah will stay with us. This doesn’t sit well with Kellan, who insists his brother and I are not to stay in an unsecure location. I joke (badly, and way too slowly) that we need a huge fortress to live in that can accommodate all of us.

  Will leans forward in the chair he’s in, elbows laying across his thighs. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”

  “Um,” I say, but he hushes me easily, as my words are ten miles behind his. But yeah, no. I’m not building us a fortress in an already cramped Annar. The city-state has gone through many expansions lately due to the recent Métis influx; besides, any additions to the plane must be Council directed. Annar is a highly regulated city-state. Even here, even with Jonah, Astrid, and myself present, we do not have the authority to enact a single new building by ourselves outside of an extreme emergency.

  Will is saying, “Kellan has a large flat, right?”

  I already don’t like where this is heading.

  Callie answers for him. “Do you mean apartment? Then yes. It’s nearly 3,000 square feet. You’re not suggesting she should move in there, are you?”

  Bless that girl for heading him off at the pass, even if done scornfully.

  The look he gives her is priceless. “I don’t need to know the square footage. I was simply pointing out his flat is roomy.” He turns toward Jonah. “You own the one directly above it, correct?” Jonah confirms this, so Will continues, “Chloe, have you tried to use your craft at all since waking up?”

  “Seriously, Will,” Callie says. “Cut the girl some slack. She’s been awake less than twenty-four hours.”

  Maybe I am wrong about what he was thinking? “No,” I say to him. “Why?”

  “Do you think you can?”

  Callie hits him on the arm. “Am I speaking to myself here? Time and place, Will!”

  I hold a hand out, less weak today than yesterday; a hockey puck appears in it that I toss over to him. As he rolls the black hardened rubber between his fingers, he asks, “Think you can build a staircase?”

  If that’s not a random question, then I don’t know what is. “Um?”

  “Because, if you want a fortress that will hold a bunch of people, I’m thinking all you have to do is build a staircase between the two flats.” Will offers the twins a smirk. “And since I know your flats are so roomy, I’m sure you all can find room for me and Dad.”

  Hold on here—he wants me to connect Kellan’s apartment with Jonah’s and mine? Is he mad? How could he even think I could do that to Kellan? Having Jonah and me live with him? It’d be like rubbing salt into his wounds. I won’t do it.

  Surely, the look I offer Will right now could wither plants. And yet, he simply beams at me, like he’s just given us the best solution ever.

  He and I will be having words shortly. Strong words.

  “Now, this is doable.”

  I think Jonah’s just as flabbergasted as I am when Kellan says this, because his eyebrows shoot up for the tiniest of moments.

  “If she’s up to it, Chloe could fortify the walls,” Kellan continues smoothly, “and the building is already a pretty secure location, especially after this last winter. Nobody gets in past the doorman without prior approval. We can even add somebody from the Guard to stand watch in the lobby.”

  Is he referring to the Sophie fiasco? I hate even thinking about it like that—hell, hate thinking about it at all—but it seems ... the gentlest way to dub it. I mean, his ex-girlfriend who just so happens to be obsessed with him got into his apartment more than once without anyone knowing about it. Was found naked in Jonah’s bed—

  A light bulb pops nearby. Everyone jumps and then immediately looks to me.

  I pretend not to notice. For crying out loud, I wish these things would stop happening to me. I can’t risk ruining yet another hospital room.

  Callie rubs her forehead. “This is an awful idea. Mom, tell them. This is the worst idea ever.”

  I have to agree with her. It is pretty much the worst idea ever. Poor Astrid simply opens and closes her mouth a few times. Yep, she thinks it’s awful, too.

  But then Jonah asks me, “Do you think you are up to it?”

  Again, my answer is, “Um?”

  To everyone else, he asks, “Can we have a moment here?”

  The room clears in less than a minute, including Kellan. Once we’re alone, Jonah sits down next to me on my bed. “I know this isn’t ideal. But, I’m going to be honest with you. If there is anyone else in these worlds I can trust to protect you, to ensure your safety, it’s my brother.” A small, side smile slides across his lips. “You know as well as I that, outside of you, Emotionals control the Elders best.”

  “Um—”

  “I wish I could feel you right now.” His fingers trail across my collarbone. “But I don’t have to use my craft to know you think this is a terrible idea. You’re worried about hurting him, right?”

  He knows me too well. I’m also worried I might legitimately break my foot, kicking Will’s ass and all once I’m back on my feet.

  “It’s not like we will be sleeping in the same bedroom as him, or even on the same floor. He will be downstairs in his apartment. We will be up in ours. Will’s idea is sound; we can put a staircase to join the two apartments so Kel could get to us in a hurry if need be. It doesn’t have to be permanent—just until we know what’s going on, your safety has to be our first priority.”

  He says all of this so calmly, so assuredly, but the thing is, I see his other hand unconsciously flexing in and out. This is stressing him out just as much as it is me.

  “He wants me to tell you he’s okay with this.” Jonah’s attention wanders to the door, as if he can see his brother on the other side of it. “It will make him feel better, knowing you and I are nearby.”

  I don’t even know what to say. Not that I can actually say much right now, but still. It certainly wouldn’t be, Oh hey, Kellan, let me flaunt my loving relationship with your brother in your face on a daily basis in our one, big, awkward home.

  “If you want, Will and Cameron can come and stay with us, too. There is plenty of space for them. It’ll be like one big happy family.”

  Oh yes, such a happy, happy family. Collateral damage keeps running through my mind. I am a Creator. My strength far outmatches anyone else’s. It’s me who should be protecting them. It’s me Enlilkian wants and I’d bet everything I own he wouldn’t hesitate to ensure everyone around me is collateral damage in his efforts to get me.

  Maybe he’d go after them even when I’m not around, like the Elders did with Cora back when we were in high school. And that thought terrifies me.

  Well, hell.

  Against my better judgment, I cave in and agree. It’s best to keep everyone close.

  Jonah’s apartment—no, our apartment isn’t finished being remodeled. There are tarps and paint cans and soft dust steeped in the smell of fresh wood from construc
tion everywhere. It isn’t warm and cozy like the Danes’ apartment I’ve been living in since moving back to Annar a few months back, nor even worn-in like the ones Jonah and I used to inhabit across town.

  I’d been looking forward to moving in here and working with Jonah toward making it not his, not mine, but ours. Our first home together. The place we choose to spend moments large and small in our lives. The place into which we might someday welcome a child.

  We’d just gotten re-engaged before the attack, but had done it right this time. We’re choosing to spend our lives together for the right reasons—because it’s what we want, not what we think we ought to want or what Fate says we should. We were going to take our time building this home. We were repairing all the damage we both inflicted on our relationship.

  And now ...

  Now I’m standing in a dusty, tarp filled room devoid of furniture and, once more, it feels like things are swirling around me too fast.

  Will materializes from one of the long hallways as Jonah sets the small duffle bag he had at the hospital down in the living room. The man I consider to be my best friend and brother grins broadly and says to us, in an accent thick and rich from his childhood in Glasgow, “It’s about time.”

  Two choices flit through my mind: the ass kicking I so richly imagined in the hospital yesterday or a tongue-lashing. But then I realize neither of these will do. I choose instead to throw my arms around him and squeeze tightly. It feels good to hug my friend. Comfortable. Familiar in the midst of upheaval, even though I’m struggling against the urge to rake him across the coals.

  “I had to sign a lot of papers.” My voice is stronger today, coarse as a cat’s tongue but not so hard to get out. “They wouldn’t let me go until every last one was signed and gone over.” Not to mention, I’d gotten talked into one last night of being monitored by Shamans, just in case. I didn’t really know what the just in case was for, but my acquiescence made the twins relax a bit, so it wasn’t much of a sacrifice.