A Matter of Forever (Fate #4) Read online

  Will’s taken aback. “I’m not good with metals, mate.”

  “And yet you are,” Erik continues. “The sword Chloe made you, the one you use while Elders hunting—”

  “I’m Scottish,” Will smirks. “It’s in our blood. And wielding a sword is quite different from being good with metals.”

  Erik smiles grimly. “That’s the thing, though, Will—while you are Scottish, when had you ever picked one up before the day Chloe made one for you?”

  Will’s mouth snaps shut, confusion flashing in his dark eyes.

  “That sword, while made of a lightweight material for swords, is still incredibly unwieldy for many others. Yet, you never tire when you use it—”

  “It’s like you said, mate. Chloe made it lightweight.”

  “True,” Erik admits. “But even strong people tire over time using it. You never have.”

  Will laughs. “I most certainly have. Have you ever seen me after one of those skirmishes? I’m bloody exhausted.”

  “You’re exhausted because you’ve just fought somebody,” Kate pipes in. “And most likely because you’ve been injured. But not from the sword. The metals in it speak to you. Metal strengthens you, not weakens you.”

  Will asks slowly, “Are you saying that I’m a Smith, like my mum?”

  “No,” Erik says. “From what we can tell, Métis never exhibit developed crafts. But we have discovered some of the first generation Métis have hints of their ancestral crafts within them.”

  “Just not enough that the Elders drain them dry,” Kate tells us. “I’ve been looking over the data some of the Métis leaders have brought with them concerning past deaths.” She pulls a file out of a briefcase sitting at her feet. “Initially, the Elders did try to drain their Métis victims dry. It stopped after a few years, though; I can’t say for sure, but I’m assuming it’s because they deemed whatever they got from these victims wasn’t enough to warrant further efforts.”

  Evgeni takes the folder from her, flipping through it. Jonah asks, “Then why continue targeting Métis? If they have nothing to offer the Elders in terms of craft expansions, then why bother killing them at all? What do they get out of it?”

  “That’s the question, isn’t it?” Cameron muses.

  “Question or no,” Zthane says, “we cannot stand by and allow it to continue to happen.” He turns to Erik. “My team and I have discussed some options recently, but you may not like them.”

  Evgeni passes the file to Cameron. “Let us hear them anyway.”

  The head of the Guard says, “Part of the reason the Council voted to welcome Métis citizens into its boundaries are its shields. Annar is, of all the planes, the most heavily protected.”

  Ice crystalizes in my veins. Annar is not as safe as he’s insisting, despite what he thinks. While Jonah and I shared my theory about Enlilkian with the Elders Subcommittee and the Guard nearly immediately after I told him about it, everyone continued to foolishly insist Annar is still the safest of all the planes.

  How can it be safe, though, when the baddest bad of all is walking around freely?

  “If the Council votes on it,” Karl pipes in, “Annar’s boundaries can be expanded even further to welcome all Métis and Magical-kind alike. “

  “You forget one small thing,” Evgeni says. “Many Métis want nothing to do with moving here, room or no.”

  “That’s true,” Zthane admits. “But ... there are ways to ensure their desire to choose safety over prejudices.”

  Erik says slowly, “You are talking about using an Emotional against us.”

  The room is silent for a long moment once again.

  “Not against,” Kellan says. This is the first he’s spoken the entire meeting. He’s spent the entire time sitting on the other side of his brother, carefully ensuring our eyes never met. “And certainly not for anything else other than this purpose. It isn’t like we’re going to go out there and make those Métis long resentful of Magicals their new best friends.”

  That’s not enough of an assurance for Evgeni, though. “This is outrageous. You would never attempt such a stunt on one of your kind!”

  “Haven’t you been listening?” Kellan fires back. “Your kind and my kind are the same, at least biologically. And if you believe we don’t work on one another, think again. What do you assume Kate does over at the hospital? Play solely with viruses? She uses her craft on other people, asshole.”

  Jonah sighs. I don’t have to be in their heads to know he’s telling his brother to play it cool right now rather than lose it.

  “Healing somebody is entirely different than altering their emotions,” Evgeni snaps.

  Will gives me a pointed look; this is an argument he and I had months back. I shoot an equally pointed look right back. He sure wasn’t complaining about Kellan using his craft on Becca recently.

  Kellan’s like a dog with a bone, though. “Are you for real? You really think that altering someone’s emotions to ensure their safety is a bad thing?” He scoffs. “Fine. Let innocent Métis continue to die then. That’s blood on your hands, not mine. Don’t go asking me for help when you can’t sleep at night.”

  Veins bulge around Evgeni’s eyes.

  “All we’re saying,” Zthane says smoothly, “is that our Emotionals can ensure that resistant Métis favor safety over unreasonably leaving themselves on unguarded planes.”

  “Geno,” Erik says quietly, “it’s worth bringing to the rest to consider. Don’t rule it out so fast.”

  “If you like,” Zthane continues, “you may have any representatives come along with the Emotionals to ensure they are doing just as we agree.”

  “What is to stop them from working on us, too?”

  Kellan’s perilously close to losing it. Before he rips this guy a new one, Jonah says, “Our word.”

  A Métis leader from the Goblin plane leans over to Evgeni to whisper something.

  “We take you at your word.” Jonah’s words are calm and measured but low enough to show he means business. “All we’re asking is that you do the same for us. Annar has done nothing but bend over backward to help you. We have expanded our plane, welcomed Métis into our homes and jobs. Magicals have risked their lives to protect and defend the Métis time and time again over the last few months. We almost lost our Creator because she chose to protect one of your colonies. Does it really bear repeating that all of our civilizations suffer when there is no Creator in existence?”

  Evgeni doesn’t say a word.

  “Look. I don’t want to get into a pissing match with you,” Jonah continues, “so I’m just going to say my peace and you’re going to listen to it. Your insistences that Emotionals are some kind of nefarious thugs who go out and terrorize Métis and make them mindless zombies is insulting. If you bothered to get to know us and what we do with our crafts, you would realize what we’re all about. But I’m not going to sit back and listen to you spout off your ignorance anymore. You can either sit down at the big kids’ table and work with us, or you can stand up and walk out that door. Your choice.”

  I’m pretty sure I can hear the Russian’s teeth grinding together, especially as he’s a good four decades older than Jonah.

  “We will present this option to the other leaders,” the woman sitting next to him says.

  Outside of Cameron and Will, the rest of the Métis leave a little while later, along with various other Guard and Council members that were present.

  Zthane stays behind, though. “Jonah, we need to talk.”

  Why does it always feel like those four words never lead to anything good?

  “We scouted the entirety of Annar. We can’t find any sign of Belladonna anywhere.”

  Kellan leans back against a nearby table, his arms crossed as he listens in.

  “That’s not good enough,” Jonah is saying. “Send the Trackers out again.”

  “They’ve swept the city three times now.”

  There is no dimple showing when Jonah smiles. “Zthane, I�
��m pretty sure you understand what’s at stake here. If you have to sweep the godsdamn city a hundred times before you find him, do it.”

  Our Goblin friend sighs. “You can’t be sure it’s even Enlilkian. For all we know, it’s actually Jens or someone who looks like him.”

  “I can and I am sure of exactly who it is.” Jonah takes a step toward him. “You’re taking a big risk, announcing the safety of this plane when the mastermind behind all of this destruction is running loose. I want him found before he can orchestrate any further attacks.”

  There’s no maybe here, no hesitation. Jonah believes me and is not afraid to say it. And ... I don’t know why, but it takes me aback a little. He had nothing else to go on but the word of a scared, terrorized girl who had been strangled until she passed out and lingered in some kind of Magical coma for days. And yet, here he is, going to war with the influential head of the Guard, all because he believes me. After all that I’ve done, after I’ve let so many people down by abandoning my Council post for half a year, Jonah believes in me, no questions asked. He could have written me off, his trust entirely shattered, but somehow he still has faith.

  Gods, I’m so lucky.

  Karl comes and sits down in the chair next to me. “Chloe, are you sure it was Jens? Trackers covered the bathroom after the attack yet couldn’t find any trace of him.”

  Oh hell, I just wish they could surge and take the memory already, but nobody seems to be able to access my memories of that event. “I was able to elude Trackers, too.” It’s so embarrassing to admit how desperate I was when I ran last year. “For six months. Even when your best sat right in front of me for a straight week, he couldn’t tell it was me. The only reason he ever called you in was because an Elder was wreaking havoc in Anchorage.”

  “Lee was suspicious—”

  “But he didn’t know,” I stress. “And it wasn’t for lack of trying. All I’m saying is, if your very best had me right in front of his face and didn’t know it, how can you be so sure the ones you have out hunting Belladonna’s body aren’t passing by him in plain sight?”

  Neither Zthane nor Karl answer this.

  “Kopano taught me how to shield myself from other Magicals. Who is to say that Enlilkian, the first of all Creators, didn’t master such a feat millennia ago? What if he’s shielding Jens’ body?”

  Long green fingers rub at the spot between Zthane’s eyes. “Why would he leave you alive, Chloe? If it was Enlilkian, wouldn’t he have drained you?”

  It’s a question I’ve asked myself. Just why did he leave me behind?

  I look away, toward the windows. Somewhere out there is a madman. “I don’t know. He said that it wasn’t ...” I swallow hard. “Our time, or something stupid like that. That it’d be soon enough, that whatever game we’re playing isn’t done yet. That there’d be no death for me for some time.”

  Karl pulls out the notepad he’d been using to take notes on during the meeting. “I know we’ve talked about this, but ... let’s go over it again. What game was he talking about?”

  My skin crawls at the memory. “I don’t know. He seemed crazy. It’s not like he explained the rules to me.”

  It’s nothing at all to go on, yet he writes this down anyway.

  We spend a few more minutes with me answering the same questions as the day before this and the day before that, before Zthane and Karl finally leave. As Jonah and Kellan are in the midst of one of their kinds of conversations, where half of the words are silent and half out loud, I wander into the kitchen to find Will brewing coffee for his dad.

  I take a mug down from one of the cupboards. “It was interesting what Erik and Kate said earlier tonight.”

  “Pointless,” he stresses. “It changes nothing.”

  One of Cameron’s eyebrows lifts up, but he stays silent.

  I lean against the counter. “Would you want it to?”

  Will looks up from the coffee bean grinder in surprise. “What, you mean, do I wish I could have a craft?”

  I nod.

  “I don’t know. Do you wish you didn’t?”

  Cameron’s interested in my answer, too.

  I’m honest with them. Sometimes having a craft is the biggest weight on a pair of shoulders anyone could ever imagine.

  Jonah’s presence has been requested at an Elders Subcommittee meeting; videoconferencing, the chair insists, will not do this time no matter how much Jonah argues differently. He balks at leaving me alone, even though I remind him all has been quiet since I woke up two weeks prior and the building has a Guard stationed at the entrance. I’ve left the apartment plenty of times; he’s been at other meetings. What makes it different from all those times, he argues, is that Kellan has been sent on a quick mission and isn’t due back to Annar for another hour and a half and the Subcommittee meeting is slated for a full four hours.

  “There’s a Guard downstairs, remember?”

  He bites his lip, no doubt thinking of the best way to counter this.

  He and Kellan certainly haven’t hovered over me during these weeks I’ve been monitored. I’ve had plenty of space. But they’ve always made sure one of them is around when we’re home, even if in a different apartment. This would be the first time neither is present.

  “It’ll be fine.” I tug him closer to me, wrapping my hands around his waist. “Cora’s supposed to come over for dinner, remember? Maybe we can even get Lizzie and Meg to come, too. It’ll be a girls’ night in. You’d be bored silly.”

  “I’d rather be bored,” he says quietly, seriously, “than risk something happening to you.”

  “What’s going to happen to me? The building is guarded, Jonah. I’ve fortified the walls so nothing can break in without my permission. Kellan will be here in a little over an hour. Will is downstairs; so is Cameron.” I kiss the corner of his mouth. “I’m a Creator, remember? It’s not like I’m totally helpless.”

  He’s immediately contrite. “I didn’t mean to suggest you were, it’s just—”

  So many of our days lately have been good. Really good. I don’t want to lose sight of that. “They need you, honey. You have responsibilities.” I bite my lip. “Someday, my mea culpas will allow me back into the Council’s good graces and I’ll be in boring meetings and going on missions, too. Until then ...” I smooth the collar of his thin, royal blue t-shirt down. He looks so hot right now, wearing this shirt with jeans and worn, red tennis shoes. “They need your leadership. People are scared, Jonah. Don’t let them all down just because I’ll be here waiting for my girls’ night in to start.”

  He sighs before kissing me softly. “Okay. You’re right.” He laughs a little. “I’m sorry if I sound so overbearing. I just worry about you.”

  I cup his face. “And I appreciate it. By the way, of course I’m right. Aren’t I always?” An eyebrow quirks up; I laugh merrily. “Scratch that. But I am right about this.”

  He kisses me again, nice and slow this time, just to make sure I sorely regret all my insistences that he leave.

  Once he does, a call to Cora confirms she’d be over in a few hours. Follow-up calls are made to both Lizzie and Meg. I’m thrilled when both say they’d join us. I order a pizza to be delivered in a few hours, alongside three pints of ice cream; I make sure to alert the doorman downstairs that it’s on its way. I’m in the living room, searching for the perfect DVD for a girls’ night in when the back of my neck prickles, like I’m being watched.

  I wander over to the window, fully expecting to find Kellan’s ex-girlfriend on her daily stroll-by of the building, and yep. There she is. Only, for once, she’s not staring up here. I catch her just as a flash of red hair and couture clothing rounds the corner and leaves.

  I’m about to turn away when my stomach plummets through the atmosphere in an uncontrolled spiral. Sophie Greenfield is the least of my concerns right now, because somebody else is watching me like I’m the only show in town.

  It’s Jens. I mean, Enlilkian. He’s standing on the roof of a much sm
aller building across from mine, watching me with a smile on his face.

  Oh my sweet gods.

  A hand lifts in my direction, as if he’s sending me a greeting, and then its movements change toward beckoning. I’m frozen where I am, unsure of what to do. Except ... no. I can’t be like that. I know exactly what I must do. This man—this thing—needs to be taken down. He cannot be allowed to continue to hurt people.

  I glance at a nearby clock. Kellan is still a half hour out. My cell is across the room on an end table. I need to call Jonah, tell him Enlilkian’s here. Hell, even call Will to bring up his sword so I have back-up. But it’s like the asshole knows what I’m hoping to do, because all his fingers save one curl down into a fist so he can admonish me. Shit.

  And then he points to my right, toward the far corner of a rooftop covered in potted trees and flowers. I have to squint to make out what he wants me to see between the flowering trees, but ...

  There are four people standing there. And my heart sinks right out of my chest over every single face.

  Earle Locust-tree.

  Nivedita Corydalis.

  Harou Shirayuki.

  Noel Lilywhite.

  Oh. My. Gods.

  Standing in front of me on a roof are three Guard who went missing from a mission while trying to protect me a year and a half ago. And with them is my father and what I think to be the possessed body of the former head of the Guard who also went missing months ago.

  My hands press against the glass. My father is limp. He’s dangling in between Earle and Harou, glasses askew, his knees scraping the ground. As estranged as we are, there’s no confusion, though—that is my father. Why do they have my father? Where have they been?

  I wrench the French doors open. Jens/Enlilkian smiles even larger. One hand comes out and waves at the space between us; the air shimmers for the smallest of moments, reaching from building to building.

  He beckons me once more. Gods, did he ... is that a bridge between us? Did he just make a bridge that connects my building to his? One I can’t even see?