Chapter Eighteen

 

I practiced the rest of the day and half of the night, creating terrifying illusions and confusing the other three by manipulating their memories. My body and mind were exhausted, but the hope I felt now that the stone was cooperating was exhilarating.

Once we’d finished the training for the day, Julian announced that he was sending Irene out to do some recon. He wanted her to touch base with some of the people in their network of allies.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” I asked, feeling worried for Irene.

“Staying here is dangerous. Leaving is dangerous. Everything is dangerous right now,” Julian said grimly. “But we need to see what’s happening out there. When we found you at the Rosewood Motel, the city was in chaos. People were attacking each other, and there were some shootings.”

“Really?” Alarm surged through me. “Was anyone hurt?”

“Probably.” Julian sounded distracted. “I’m sure it’s Sableth’s doing. He’s spreading chaos. I’m surprised he’s waited this long to cause trouble.”

I met Ian’s worried gaze. “I hope Claire and your family are safe.”

He winced. “Yeah. Me too.”

Irene seemed fine with being sent on a mission. Almost eager in fact. I got the feeling she wanted to get away from Julian for a while. I understood that. He was controlling, although I also understood why. He was the one calling the shots, so he’d be the one blamed if everything went to hell.

Julian walked Irene to the door. “We’ve stayed here as long as we should. We’re moving to the old church tomorrow. We’ll meet you there. You remember where it is?”

“Of course.” She lifted her chin. “You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

“I know how strong and clever you are. But if you’re caught—” Julian swallowed hard. “Please, Irene, please don’t give up our location. Even if they torture you.”

She patted her broadsword. “Nobody is going to torture me.”

Julian said softly, “I’m sure Gordon never thought he’d get caught either.”

“I’m not Gordon or Thomas,” she hissed.

“I know.”

Her face was pinched. “I’ve told you a hundred times.” She yanked open the door, scowling. “I’m not gonna go out the way Gordon and Thomas did.” She slammed the door behind her.

Julian stood staring at the door for a while, then he turned looking embarrassed. He moved into the room, raking a hand through his hair. His light green eyes were dark with concern, and he looked heartbreakingly young. “I really wish the professor was here.”

I felt pity looking at him. He was obviously under tremendous strain. “How long will I train before I face off against Sableth?” My stomach churned just thinking about it, but the waiting was also gut-wrenching. We could be discovered at any moment. I was scared, but I also wanted it over with, one way or another.

“I think we can spare a week to train, but not much more. It’s best if we meet him on our own terms.” He stood next to the door, shoulders bowed. “We’ll train here all day tomorrow, and then we’ll move on to the next hiding spot.” He yawned, but tried to stifle it. “You should rest. I’ll keep watch tonight.”

I frowned, taking in his obvious fatigue. “Julian, you’re asleep on your feet.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” I met Ian’s gaze. “Why don’t we keep watch and let Julian get a few hours’ sleep? I don’t think he’s had any since we got here.”

“Fine by me,” Ian said agreeably.

“I’m not letting you do that,” Julian protested.

“Yes, you are. How much sleep have you had in the last week?”

Julian avoided my gaze. “There was a lot to do.”

“What good are you if you’re this tired?” I moved toward the door, and Ian followed. “Go sleep. I’m not taking no for an answer, Julian.”

Julian sighed and seemed to relent. “Fine. But just a few hours, no more.”

I wasn’t bothering to argue, but I also wasn’t going to wake Julian up unless we were attacked. The poor kid looked like he hadn’t slept since the night the professor had died.

I slid down the wall next to the door, and Ian sat beside me. Julian walked slowly across the room to the far wall, head down and feet dragging. He laid down, and within minutes was snoring.

“I knew he was exhausted,” I whispered.

“He’s probably twice as stressed with Irene gone.”

“True.” I sighed. “Poor kid. What a shitty situation he’s in.”

Ian squinted at me. “You’re not exactly having the time of your life.”

“Well, no, but neither are you.”

Ian laughed. “I guess we’re all pretty screwed.”

“That’s a T-shirt if I ever heard one.” I rested my head against the wall. “It’s weird, a few days ago, my biggest worry was money. Now I’m not sure I’ll live to see my next birthday.”

“Don’t say that. You will.”

“At least when I die I’ll be with Nico.” I could feel his surprise that I’d brought up the subject of my brother. I wasn’t really sure why I’d mentioned him. Probably because I’d been thinking about death a lot the last few days.

“You don’t talk about him much.”

“No.” I stared across the empty room. I was sick of being cooped up breathing nothing but stale air and sweat. I longed to go outside and suck in the scent of pine trees. I wanted to feel the cool night air on my skin and listen to the sound of living creatures rustling through the undergrowth. Anything to remind myself that there was a whole world out there still.

A world I apparently have to save.

“Do you mind telling me how Nico died?” Ian asked softly.

His question caught me by surprise. He was generally so careful not to pry. “Does it matter?”

“No.” He clasped his knee, interlocking his fingers. “But I’d like to know you better. I’d like to know your life story.”

“In case it ends here?”

He frowned. “No. God, no. That isn’t what I meant.”

I laughed gruffly. “I wouldn’t blame you for thinking that way. The odds of us surviving this—they’re probably very slim.”

He let out a shaky breath. “I hope you’re wrong.”

“Me too.”

We were quiet for a moment, and then he said, “So will you talk to me about Nico?”

A few days ago, I’d probably have been irritated that he was pushing me to talk. But for whatever reason, I wasn’t mad. I felt connected to Ian. I trusted him. I had no idea why he affected me that way when others didn’t. “I don’t talk about him much because remembering is painful. Nico was the sweetest, gentlest, most beautiful soul that ever lived.”

He didn’t say anything. He just nodded.

“He looked up to me, which is funny because I’m not anyone worth looking up to.”

“Bullshit.”

I frowned. “You barely know me.”

“What I do know says that’s bullshit.”

“Well, either way, he didn’t know any better.” I picked at a thread on my shirt because it was easier than meeting Ian’s searching gaze.

He asked, “How is it you and Nico are here, but your parents are in Texas?”

I forced myself to meet his gaze. “The year I graduated high school, they decided they wanted to live in Texas because they have no income tax.”

“That was their reason?”

“Yeah.” I grimaced at his disbelieving tone. “They were selfish and only cared about their needs. Nico was terrified at the idea of switching schools. He had horrible anxiety and was scared to start all over. He had his childhood friends here, and he felt safe. I decided since I was legally an adult that I’d petition for custody of Nico.”

“Your parents didn’t fight it?”

“Hell no. They weren’t good people or good parents. They were drunks. Honestly, I think they were relieved to get the burden of us off their backs.”

“Jesus.”

I shrugged. “That’s how they were.”

“So you didn’t move to Texas.”

“No. I got a job at an autobody shop instead of going to college, and I started doing the psychic gig part-time too. Then I petitioned the court for custody of Nico, and I got it.”

Ian grunted as if he sympathized. “And you were only eighteen?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a big responsibility for a kid to take on.”

I lifted one shoulder dismissively, uncomfortable with the respect in his voice. “I felt like I had to do that for Nico.”

“Wow.” Ian took my hand. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I loved him, and I thought it was the best thing for him.” I frowned. “But then two years later—” My throat closed up and I couldn’t talk.

He squeezed my hand. “Take your time.”

The lump in my throat burned, and my eyes stung. But Ian’s hand felt warm and comforting, and slowly my throat relaxed and the tears abated. When I felt calmer, I said, “He took a fatal dose of sleeping pills.”

“I’m sorry,” Ian said quietly. “God, how awful.”

“I . . . I didn’t even know anything was wrong. I didn’t see the signs,” I whispered. “I’m a fucking psychic and I didn’t see any signs.”

Ian pulled me closer, putting his arms around me. I buried my face in his shirt, somehow holding back the tears. He rubbed my back, kissing the side of my head, but he didn’t speak. I was glad he didn’t. There wasn’t really anything to say. Nico had died and that was that. No words of comfort could make that hurt any less. Telling me it was okay, when it most definitely wasn’t, did no good. His gentle touch was enough to let me know he cared that I was hurting.

After a while, he asked quietly, “Did he leave a note? Anything to help you understand?”

I winced, not wanting to relive the moment. “He did leave a note, but all it said was ‘It’s too painful.’ I don’t know if that meant life was too painful, or being my brother was too painful. To this day, I don’t know why he did it. I thought he was happy. I thought we were doing fine. Was life perfect? No. But when is life ever gonna be perfect?”

Ian sighed. “Never. But his suicide probably had nothing to do with how perfect or imperfect things were. The sad truth was he just didn’t want to live anymore.”

“I think you’re right. He was so sensitive. He was almost too empathetic. Maybe that’s what he meant?”

“Maybe.”

I gritted my teeth, hating that the old familiar doubt and pain returned no matter how many years passed. “It’s the not knowing why that drives me crazy. I know I have to let it go and just accept that he’s gone. And for the most part, I do that. But now and then, it just eats at me that I don’t know what I did wrong. I don’t know why he left me alone to face life all by myself.”

Ian made a sound low in his throat as if he was in pain, and he tugged me closer. “You’re not alone, okay?”

“I hate that I wasn’t enough to keep him here.”

“You can’t think like that. His suicide doesn’t have anything to do with you. Not really. I have no doubt he adored you. But he was hurting, and he wanted a way to make that stop.”

I blew out a shaky breath. While reliving Nico’s death was agony, in one respect it also felt good to finally tell someone all the things that had eaten at me over the last five years. “It’s frustrating that of all the spirits I can talk to, Nico isn’t one of them.”

“You can’t talk to him?” There was obvious surprise in his voice.

“No.” I said softly, “I’m afraid he’s mad at me.”

Ian scowled. “For what? For loving him? For protecting him?”

“For not seeing he was hurting.”

Ian shook his head. “You only see what people want you to see.”

I shrugged. “I’m supposed to see what people don’t see. I’m supposed to see beyond the physical. Especially when it comes to someone so close to me. I should have been able to sense something was very wrong.”

“You’re still only human. I’m sure it was no easy thing raising your younger brother. You were just a kid yourself.”

“Maybe he’d have been better off in Texas with my loser parents,” I said hoarsely, admitting one of my worst fears.

Ian turned to face me, his gaze serious. “Do you really believe that? With all your heart, do you truly believe he’d have been better off with them?”

“No,” I said immediately. “But it’s hard not to feel like somehow I failed him.”

“You didn’t. You need to stop even letting that thought in your head. You did your best for Nico. You loved him, and you protected him. But you’re not magical. If someone really wants to die, they’re gonna find a way.”

Ian wasn’t saying anything new. I’d heard most of what he’d said many times before. But for some reason, hearing Ian say it got through to me. I didn’t think Nico would have been better off in Texas with my parents. I knew that Nico had been mostly happy living with me. Something had hurt him so deeply, he’d been unable to move past it. I’d never know what that was. I had to accept that.

I leaned into Ian, and he tightened his hold. “Claire is the only person I’ve ever talked to about Nico’s death.”

“Yeah?” He rubbed my back. “I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me too.”

“You have a good bedside manner.”

He said quietly, “I don’t give this special treatment to just anyone, Lorenzo.”

“I guess I’m special.”

He rested his chin on my hair. “I assume you already know that. I’ve been chasing you since the day we met.”

“Sometimes the chase is the best part.”

“Not even remotely true.”

I smiled, happy he’d rejected my jaded theory.

Julian suddenly jerked awake, yelling, “Watch out, Irene. Behind you.” He sat up, looking dazed. His blond hair was plastered to his head with sweat. He shook his head, mumbling, “God, I just had the worst dream.”

“What was it about?” Ian asked.

Julian shuddered, avoiding our gaze. “Never mind.”

“You should try to sleep more,” I said.

“No. I won’t be able to.” He got up and went to grab a bottle of water. He drank it down quickly, and then approached. “You two can go sleep now.”

“You sure?” Ian asked. “You weren’t out very long.”

“It was enough.” He waved off my concern. “Go on. Sleep. Tomorrow will be another long, tiring day of training before we move locations.”

“Isn’t it more dangerous to move?” I asked, getting to my feet. Ian held out his hand to me, and I pulled him up. “Can’t we just stay where we are? So far we’ve been safe here.”

“It’s best to move around.” Julian’s tone said it wasn’t up for debate.

“Well, you’re the expert.” I walked across the room to the corner.

Ian followed, dragging his feet. “I miss my bed.”

“Same,” I agreed, lowering myself to the hard ground. “I’ll never take central heating, beds, or hot meals for granted again.”

“Amen,” Julian said from across the room. “Or showers.”

Ian and I laid down, backs pressed together. Exhaustion immediately claimed me, and I fell into a deep peaceful sleep. I dreamt of Ian and Nico. My dreams were warm and hazy, but comforting. When I woke, it was still dark, and Ian was beside me, snoring softly.

I was about to drift off to sleep again, when I heard the scrape of a shoe on the cement floor. The hairs on my nape prickled as I froze. The most obvious reason for the noise was simply Julian moving around. But every instinct in me screamed it wasn’t. My heart began to race and goosebumps rose on my flesh as I caught a hint of star anise and nutmeg.

I’m imagining this. Julian is keeping watch. This is all in my head.

Then Weston Bartholmew’s snide voice rasped, “Rise and shine, Lorenzo.”