Chapter Four

SOREN

 

The ancient ruins called to him endlessly and he found himself unable to resist their pull whenever he went near Esse Park. The Gods Spot had lived up to its name in the ghastliest way. Now, there was almost no evidence of what they had done that horrible night, except cracked stone.

But Soren knew.

That night played over and over in his head, making it hard for him to look at Briar sometimes. She’d saved him, she’d made empty promises to him, and she hadn’t picked him but when he’d needed her, she’d been there. He was eternally grateful for the help and for the way she let him move on. After he had been freed from Eliana, he would have fallen into her and he didn’t think he would have ever found his way back out.

And the Goddess had known. He’d always been fascinated by the Constance cousins, beautiful and young, the way they moved through a crowd, laughing together. A force to be reckoned with. Soren had never known friendship like that, and he’d coveted it. His father had been a politician his whole life and his mother was gorgeous and aloof, her acting taking her away frequently until one day she hadn’t returned. And Soren had only found friends who wanted things from him.

Until now. They’d become some sort of strange unit brought together by trauma. The trauma that had started here and many weeks before.

Lately, he spent too much time thinking about the Constance cousins. Briar hadn’t wanted him, she’d picked Lillia. Again and again. And at first it had stung. He wasn’t used to rejection, but then once his mind had truly cleared of Eliana’s thrall it had seemed like a relief.

It wasn’t Briar for him either, it never had been, not any more than any beautiful girl. She was blonde and six foot tall, of course he’d noticed her. But love her? They were both too selfish to love each other. He’d seen how wrong that could go in his parents’ marriage. They needed someone who could give—what a harrowing prospect.

Being in the park put things in perspective. It always did, even now after everything that had happened. He ran a finger over the spot where he knew there should be blood, his father’s blood. He’d sat there and chanted, bringing Eliana back while his father bled out. How could he face him? But he had to say something. He’d been calling and calling. But when his father’s name had popped up on his phone’s screen, he’d been unable to answer.

Without forethought, Soren punched the crumbling wall. It continued to stand as it had for centuries, and he was left with bleeding knuckles. He wiped them in the grass and started back on his run, letting his thoughts focus on the ache in his muscles. Anything was better than the terrible reality he’d found himself in.

He stopped two houses away from his own, not surprised to find Fauna sitting in front of his door. She showed up a lot lately. The first time she had been crying but sometimes now she smiled. Snowflake was in her arms, flipped onto his back and held like a baby, while she scratched his stomach. Bastard had no idea how good he had it.

One green eye popped open as Soren pushed open the metal gate to his house and the cat slipped out of Fauna’s grip to come twist between his legs. He’d found him as a baby eating out of a dumpster down the street. Taking him home might have been the first altruistic thing Soren had ever done. And he loved the cat a lot more than he let on.

“Hey.” He reached an arm out to Fauna and pulled her to her feet.

“Hey, yourself.” She grinned, pushing a strand of blonde hair that had fallen free of her ponytail behind her ear.

Fauna was a different beauty than Briar. She looked almost innocent, something to be protected. But Soren knew that wasn’t true; she’d been brave enough to attack Eliana and save her cousin. He couldn’t blame her for leaving him behind that night. They were family and Briar had power Soren could only dream of. Being near her sometimes he swore he could feel it emanating from her. It happened more often since Eliana had come back.

He brushed past Fauna to unlock his door. “What are you doing here?”

“My mom called, and I didn’t want to deal with it.”

Chuckling, Soren stepped inside and motioned her to follow. “My dad called this morning. I haven’t listened to his voicemail yet.” She opened her mouth to respond, and he knew what she was going to say. “Fauna, do you want to see something?” An old trick but one with a perfect success rate and a surefire way to not discuss both their parents which was a topic he was desperately trying to avoid. And one that seemed to follow him around. Forever stuck in the shadow of his father.

“Oh. Yeah, sure.”

This was old Soren behavior. That was what he tried to tell himself—that there used to be an old Soren and now he was the new Soren and this time he’d do things correctly. But he didn’t want to talk to his father, even though he knew he should, even though he’d promised to see him, and he knew Fauna would tell him to call back as soon as she thought of it again. He also didn’t want her to leave because then he’d be alone with his thoughts. So old Soren tricks it was.

She followed him down his hallway and to the spare bedroom he used as a painting studio. He pushed open the door and let her walk in. He knew how this went. Hand to the mouth. Bright eyes. High-pitched voices exclaiming how good he was. He grinned, waiting for it.

Fauna spun around, her ponytail nearly whipping him in the face, and frowned. “You’re trying to distract me.”

“Am not!”

She poked his shoulder. “These are terrific, but I’ve seen your art before. Briar has one in her condo. You little sneak.” Still, she wandered over to one and cocked her head to the side, studying the painting like it was hung in a museum.

“These are new. I just thought you might like to see them.” It was true. There were some new ones, including one of her and the way she’d looked one day in Lillia’s living room, the fire casting her in reds and oranges. But that one was tucked away in his room beside another of Briar kneeling before Ivian. Those were meant to be gifts, eventually.

Fauna passed through the crowded room, trailing delicate fingers across the canvases. She stopped in front of one, the back of a girl looking over the city. He’d never been able to get the lighting right. “You should call your dad.”

Soren leaned in the doorway and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You should call your mom.”

“What are you? Five? I will call her, but I’m sure she wants to talk about me starting to take over the business. It’s nothing important.” Her face tightened, features pinching together, and she sighed.

Soren would argue that Fauna’s future was important. All that money and power and her set up to be in charge of it all. But he wouldn’t have wanted it either. He’d always shied from the responsibility his father insisted came with being his son. He definitely didn’t want to be a politician, which should have been his first clue something was wrong. He should have known he was being manipulated when he’d started dreaming of standing behind podiums. To Soren politicians were all liars, smug men who tousled his hair and smoked foul-smelling cigars with his father.

Fauna made her way across the room, pausing to take one last look at the painting, and stopped in front of him, one hand on her hip. Amusement danced in her eyes and she smirked. “You are nothing like I thought you’d be.”

“How did you think I’d be?”

“Suave.”

Ouch, he thought he was. “And you’re meaner than I thought you’d be. Fine.” He sighed. “I’ll call my dad, but you have to hang out after and—” They both turned toward the hallway as someone knocked on the door.

“Soren! Are you in there?”

Fauna’s blue eyes locked on to his and she groaned. “No. I don’t want to be here for this.”

He should have anticipated this moment when he’d let the call go to voicemail this morning. Ansel had done it countless times before, showing up uninvited after a couple of missed phone calls. He was almost impressed by the audacity—his father hadn’t answered his calls for weeks but a morning without Soren’s attention and he’d shown up at his door.

Briefly he imagined strangling his father. Maybe he could sacrifice him.

Grabbing him roughly by the chin, Fauna kissed him full on the mouth, tangling her other hand in his unbrushed hair and pushing his lips apart with her tongue. When she pulled away her face was red.

“What the fuck?”

She wiped her bottom lip with her thumb and shrugged. “You were freaking out. I could see it on your face.”

Soren pursed his lips as the pounding on his door continued. Gods, she was even worse than Briar. “I’m coming!” He shot Fauna a pointed look but she didn’t catch it. She was too caught up in trying not to dissolve into laughter. Soren could never get a read on her—sometimes demure, sometimes bold, frequently engaged.

That hadn’t been their first kiss. He’d kissed her when they spent the night in Ourst. Some drunk asshole of a guy wouldn’t leave her alone. She’d tried to walk away several times, but he kept going on about the stuck-up Constance girl and how she wouldn’t give anyone attention unless they had a million dollars and a diamond.

Soren had pushed through the crowd as fast as he could and kissed her before turning to the guy and telling him he’d drag him outside and beat his ass if he so much as looked at her again.

After, Fauna had laughed until she doubled over and when she surfaced for air asked if he truly thought she didn’t know how to handle a drunk man. He’d still been under Eliana’s thrall, but the part of him he now thought of as free had known he wanted to be her friend right then, as he watched her wipe tears from her eyes. He’d doubled his efforts to get to know her since he’d come to his senses, and she was quickly making her way up the list of his favorite people.

The one part of the puzzle of Fauna he couldn’t figure out was her string of relationships with the most eligible bachelors, all of them ending within a year. What was she looking for that she wasn’t finding?

“Go.” She pressed her hands into his back and pushed. “He’s going to terrify the cat.”

Ansel Savros looked like he hadn’t slept in a week and possibly hadn’t taken a shower in even longer. Sometimes, Soren could hardly believe he was related to the man, sometimes he hated him, and sometimes he was just sorry for him. He wasn’t sure his father had ever been happy. He had always been too clouded by greed and lust for power to enjoy the spectacular life that had fallen into his lap.

Soren had sworn he wouldn’t make the same mistakes and he hadn’t, but he’d managed to find quite a few different ones.

There was one thing he’d inherited from his father. When they wanted something, it became an obsession. It had been how Eliana had gotten her claws into him so easily. Get the girl. He’d seen her in a club once, dancing under strobe lights, and been entranced. Then he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Now he wasn’t sure what was even real. Had Eliana already gotten to him? She’d gotten to his father by then. Had she taken a moment of lust and ran with it?

He’d never have the answers he wanted. But his father was here and as far as Soren knew he had been Eliana’s first victim. She’d used him as much as she’d used Soren, leading him to even worse crimes. How heavily those thirteen women must weigh on his mind. He hadn’t been the same since that day. And he’d tried to warn Soren about her. For all his faults Ansel had tried to tell them both.

“Dad. I was just about to call you.”

“I should have called sooner. I haven’t…I haven’t been well.” His eyes caught on something behind Soren’s shoulder and he knew it was Fauna. He could see the wheels turn in his father’s head. There had been a different Constance last time he was here. But Ansel could think whatever he wanted to think about it. Soren was beyond caring.

“Come on.” He nudged the door open with his foot and let his father in. There wasn’t much in his kitchen besides beer and old takeout, but he poured him a glass of water while Fauna stood in the doorway.

“Do you want me to go?” she mouthed, putting on an exaggerated grimace.

He shook his head violently, trying to cover it with a head scratch when his father looked in his direction. “So, you’re in Wesvik? Business?”

“I’ve rented a place outside the city. I can’t stand to be in Ourst anymore. And I can’t really stand to spend much time in Wesvik either, not since I woke up covered in…” He glanced over his shoulder toward Fauna. “Does she…”

“She knows,” Soren said, though he wasn’t sure exactly what Ansel knew. That’s mostly what he’d been calling him about. He owed him the entire explanation. “I’m really sorry I didn’t believe you.”

Ansel ran a hand through his rapidly graying hair. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I was such a shit man all my life. I must have been an easy target, hm?” His eyes darted to Fauna again. Soren had never seen him so anxious.

After glancing at Soren for confirmation, she slipped onto the barstool beside his father. “Do you know how Eliana got into our realm?”

“I met a woman at a…party. Red haired.” Soren’s stomach dropped but his father didn’t notice. “She said she knew some spells. I think it was my fault. I’m not sure. Things got so strange, my security, me. It must have been us all. Something else happened though. That’s why you’re calling me, right?”

Soren looked to Fauna. How much should they tell his father? He’d been possessed by Eliana but that didn’t make him a good man or a loyal one. And Bastianna had been involved so much longer than he realized. It made his skin crawl but didn’t surprise him. A true acolyte of Eliana’s, no wonder she had wanted to get to know Lillia. He’d been manipulated by everyone and he hadn’t noticed. Could he truly trust his father?

“What’s he going to do?” Fauna asked, as if reading his thoughts. “He can’t tell anyone. They wouldn’t believe him. Easy there.” She stood up and reached for his hand across the counter. Ice had formed beneath it, running from under his palm and spreading across the marble.

After taking a deep breath, Soren explained to his father as best he could. He paused when he got to the night at the ruins. How could he explain that he had seen him bleeding out and it had stirred nothing in him? It wasn’t just the spell; he could still remember the way Briar had stopped when she saw Evaria and Jenia. He hadn’t. Not even for a second.

He’d known the plan all along. Not the details but he knew he was luring his father. He knew he was part of it. He hadn’t been in his right mind but he’d known so much more than Briar. He was so much weaker.

The urge to push Fauna out of his kitchen and tell her to run from him and never look back was nearly overwhelming. Ice formed on his fingertips, coating his skin. He tried to breathe deeply but the air caught in his chest.

Fauna took over the story, telling it gently, pausing when Ansel’s face went white. She hadn’t been there for the start but she’d heard enough from the rest of them. What she left out was that she was the hero. She’d somehow kept herself away from Eliana’s grasp and been brave enough to fight her. She’d come to save Briar but she had saved them both. No one ever mentioned how far the Constance cousins were willing to go for those they loved—no one knew.

His father noticed though. When she was done, he ran his hand over his face, scrubbing until the tip of his nose was red. He looked between Fauna and Soren, the lines of his face deepening. “You’ve made friends, Soren. Real friends.”

Soren reached into the fridge and pulled out a beer. He twisted the top off and handed it to his dad before he nodded. “Real ones, yeah.”

Ansel drank half the beer in one long swig. His words were slow when he spoke again. “I never managed. Not once. Sometimes I think you’re the best thing I ever did but then I have to admit the way I treated your mother. I’ve not managed to do one thing in my life that wasn’t tainted.” He stood and walked around the kitchen island until he was in front of Soren.

Under the scrutinizing gaze of his father, Soren tensed. But his father embraced him, wrapping Soren in his arms. He couldn’t remember the last time his father had hugged him; it hadn’t been since he was a child. He wasn’t sure he’d done it much then. Soren had spent so little time with him before he was a teenager and his mother had stopped coming home. When his father finally released him, Soren had not yet worked up the courage to return the embrace.

“I don’t know what I can offer, no one listens to me anymore. I’ve ruined my own name, but I want to help you.” He ran his hands through his hair again. He was a broken man and Soren didn’t have the strength to repair him. “Whatever you need, I am only an hour away.”

“That’s kind of you, Mr. Savros. There’s a lot of work to be done. Are you afraid of her?” Fauna was watching them with suspicion and Soren was surprised to see golden sparks of magic where her fingers drummed on the countertop.

Ansel held her gaze, though his eyes flicked to her fingers. He was a man who could control the weather but he was still twitchy at witch magic. “Truthfully, a bit. But I don’t value myself enough to let fear persuade me.”

Soren swallowed the knot in his throat and it felt like rocks had fallen into his stomach. He gripped the neck of the beer bottle and resisted the urge to interfere. Fauna had been right from the start. He couldn’t help but wonder where following her would lead. Like his father before him, he’d made plenty of bad choices. Maybe it was time to let someone else take the lead.

She stood and walked around the counter. “We need to know what she’s doing, what her plans are. We’re operating under the assumption she wants revenge on the fae, blaming them for Velorian’s betrayal. We can’t get close to her at all, she’ll be suspicious of you, of course, but you must have some people left to call on in politics.”

Soren thought it was probably a fool’s errand. Eliana wasn’t going to answer the questions of anyone who still spoke to Ansel but he bit his tongue. At least it would give his father something to do.

“I can see what I can find out. I can’t make any promises. Like I said, my name was trashed. But there’s still some miscreants who hold office I might be able to see. Give me some time?”

“Of course.” Fauna nodded.

“I’m proud of you, son. I always have been.” Ansel finished the last of his beer, put down the bottle, and walked away. When the door closed, the bottle tipped over and rolled off the counter. Soren watched its descent as it crashed and shattered on the floor.

“Well, that has me feeling fucked up.” He looked up, searching Fauna’s face, trying to understand her better than he did, but now her features were soft again—full of sweetness. “Do you think another kiss would help?” he teased.

Fauna rolled her eyes. “I like men who like me best.”

Swallowing the words that formed on his tongue, Soren resisted the urge to ask her to explain her former fiancés. It didn’t matter. They were friends. He’d found true friends.