Chapter Twenty-Four

TY COUGHED AS a cloud of dust from the barn’s collapse followed them underground. The earth above them vibrated with the aftershocks as he led Cary down the rickety flight of wire mesh stairs, groping blindly at the rail in complete darkness. It was freezing cold and the air was dank and musty, filled with the vapors of decay.

The end of the stairs came rather abruptly, and he steadied himself, his arm slung around Cary’s shoulders. Cary’s labored breathing underscored the pain that radiated from him. His skin was cold and clammy, and he was shivering uncontrollably—unsurprising, considering he’d nearly missed being bled dry to feed the forces that had ripped apart the very fabric of reality to create a portal to another world.

“We’re safe now,” Ty told him, doing his best to sound matter-of-fact. His voice echoed in the silence, which Ty had to convince himself was nothing like that of a grave.

He whispered a short spell, and a tiny light, barely the size of a firefly, appeared above his outstretched palm. That was the best he could do under the circumstances, but it was enough to make out Cary’s dirty face, gaunt with exhaustion, and the way he was clutching his broken arm to his chest. The silver pendant gleamed dully on a chain around his neck, the etchings standing out in dark sharp lines.

This wasn’t how either of them had envisioned getting it back. As far as Ty was concerned, Cary was welcome to keep it. There was no way in hell he would ever touch the damn thing again, no matter how big a reward someone might promise him.

The curved ceiling was mere inches above their heads, and hairlike cracks ran through the cement. Ty hoped it would all hold long enough for them to reach the exit. He’d only been there once in the past, but he remembered the passageway wasn’t all that long, merely connecting the barn with the basement of the farmhouse.

Cary grasped his hand, and Ty halted, turning to him in concern.

The feeble illumination painted Cary’s face with a deep, sharp-edged stain of shadow. But he wasn’t looking at Ty. Instead, he brought the tip of his finger to the tiny light and uttered the same spell that Ty had cast moments before. The light grew, almost blinding in its sudden intensity, until Ty was holding a glowing orb of pure incandescence that banished the surrounding darkness into nonexistence.

A wholly unfamiliar sentiment curled beneath Ty’s breastbone, a jumbled tangle of tenderness, warmth, and fierce pride. He was watching Cary coming into his own, stepping up to his abilities like he’d always known he could. It was humbling and awe-inspiring at the same time, and he knew that even if Cary wanted nothing more to do with him after all this was over, it was something he’d cherish for as long as he lived.

“Showoff,” he said with a smile, unable to keep the affection out of his voice. His feelings must have been written clearly on his face, but he didn’t care. If they weren’t too busy running for their lives at the moment, he would scoop Cary up into his arms and let him know just how much he cared for him.

Cary smiled back at him, his eyes twinkling with the same emotion. He squeezed Ty’s hand briefly, and then they hurried along the narrow tunnel.

“The hell is this place?” Cary asked when they reached the other end and climbed the stairs up to the basement door, which Ty had made sure to unlock in preparation for the possibility of them taking this route.

“I’ll tell you later,” Ty muttered, reluctant to go into the gory details after all the shit Cary had already had to endure. He opened the metal door cautiously, peering inside first, but the 350 square-foot concrete basement was blessedly empty, save for the miasma of death and ghostly crying only Ty could hear.

“Come on,” he told Cary, tuning out the prickling of his skin over the voices of the dead. If he never saw this basement again, it would be too soon.

The staircase leading up to the main house was rotten almost through, as was the floor of the living area, but they managed to emerge outside without further injury. Ty allowed himself to take a full breath for the first time since he pulled up the driveway with Bas. He couldn’t believe it was only hours ago. An entire lifetime seemed to have ended and begun anew during the course of the night.

The pinkish glow of predawn colored the eastern portion of the sky. Birds chirped in the trees that swayed in the gentle breeze, and the ducks were bustling down at the pond, probably only just returning after all the commotion had died down.

A thick cloud of dust hung in the air above the barn, or more accurately, where the barn used to stand. It was no more than a heap of ruins now, the roof completely caved in, the jagged scaffold timbers sticking out like broken bones. As far as Ty could see, nothing moved among the wreckage. A horrible stench wafted from the few charred bodies strewn in the tall grass, which was eerily untouched by whatever fire had engulfed them. But apparently, not all of Giordano’s men had fallen victim to Leland’s rampage, because the three SUVs were gone, the only evidence of their presence the deep tire marks left in the dirt. Ty’s precious Chevy was missing as well, which meant Bas had managed to get away, too, much to Ty’s relief.

A white Honda, which he assumed belonged to either Leland or Vincent, was parked some distance away, close to the remnants of the fence. It was the only vehicle in sight, and Ty was infinitely grateful it was there. The last thing he wanted to do was hike eight or so miles to Diamond Springs on foot.

He closed his fist, killing the light, and made another quick survey of the surroundings before helping Cary step off the porch. They hobbled down the driveway, clinging to each other like a pair of train wreck survivors. If this had been an action movie, this would be the moment Vincent blocked their path, mangled and zombie-like. But this was real life, and Ty doubted anyone could have survived that crash. No one was coming for them, except maybe the pissed off ducks.

Cary leaned heavily on his arm as Ty steered him toward the orphaned Honda. It took him five whole minutes to break into the car and wire it, which served to prove exactly how drained he was.

“Can you drive?” Cary asked, watching from the sidelines. The faint morning light emphasized the deep dark circles beneath his eyes and the grayish cast to his usually tawny skin.

Ty would have driven the fuck away even if both his arms had been cut off, but he didn’t say it. He only nodded wearily and then helped Cary into the passenger seat.

“You’re hurt,” Cary insisted, indicating the blood that was crusted on Ty’s forehead. His eyes met Ty’s with concern. “You might have a concussion or something.”

“I’m okay,” Ty said. He was shaking with fatigue and the traces of adrenaline that coursed through his bloodstream, but he could still function well enough to drive. He had a thick skull. Nothing could get through, except perhaps that soon he’d have to say goodbye to the only person he’d been willing to lay down his life for since he’d left Leland’s apprenticeship.

He probably should be feeling something, now that Leland was dead. He should be hurting because of his mentor’s betrayal, or grieving his loss. He should be trying to make sense of what had happened. But he was just too damn tired, and too numb. The only thing that mattered now was getting Cary the medical care he needed, and distancing him from any police or media attention that would eventually be drawn to what had happened. He had to keep Cary safe until it was time to let him go forever.

Ty cast a last look at the barn before slamming the car door and heading down to the main road. Even though there had been no way for him to know about Leland’s involvement, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. Whoever Leland had been, whatever he’d become, he didn’t deserve to die like that, his body a broken mess in a makeshift grave. Ty would venture to say neither Rossi, nor even the weird Vincent guy, deserved that, but there was nothing he could do for either of them.

Cary slumped in his seat. His injured left arm rested in his lap, the swollen flesh straining against the fabric of the shirtsleeve, and he was touching the amulet that still hung around his neck with his other hand. His long graceful fingers traced the interwoven lines of the pattern, a wistful expression on his face.

Ty wanted to ask if he was okay, but it was a stupid question. Of course Cary wasn’t okay. Killing a man, even in self-defense, or in someone else’s defense, as the case was, was never easy, and the kinder the person, the worse it affected them. So he clamped down on his urge to fuss and smother Cary with his sympathy, and kept quiet as he followed the curves of the road. Cary needed his space, and they both needed to put as much distance as they could between themselves and the farmhouse before the break of day.

 

THE SUN ROSE behind them, but soon the weather changed, and heavy gray clouds covered the sky. They’d been driving for about an hour, and Ty thought Cary had fallen asleep, when he suddenly sat up and said: “Pull over, please.”

Ty complied and brought the Honda to a stop on the shoulder. Sparse trees flanked the road, but to their right, they could see a small lake, or rather a pond. The wind was sending ripples over the surface of the water.

Cary got out of the car and limped toward the pond. Ty followed, leaving the engine running, and joined Cary by the edge of the pond, where the water was licking the muddy bank. Distant thunder rolled, and the first drops of rain landed on their heads and shoulders. But Cary didn’t seem to notice. He took the necklace off with his right hand, clutching the metal disk so hard his knuckles went white.

“Baby,” Ty said quietly, but Cary didn’t answer. He was looking at the water, his gaze distant and unseeing. Ty wondered what it was that was playing in front of his eyes.

“It’s all I ever wanted,” Cary said suddenly. “To be good enough. I thought that with this, I would be. That I’d finally get that break, that I’d make something of myself like Granddad wanted. But not like this. Not at the price of…” He looked at the amulet in his hand.

Ty took a step toward him.

“You’re good enough,” he said. “You’re everything.”

His voice shook, and he had to bite his lip to hold himself together.

Cary looked at him, his eyes big and bright and full of emotion. His mouth twisted, and it seemed like he was going to say something, but he turned back to the pond. He took a deep breath and then swung his arm. The amulet traced a graceful arc in the air, the chain trailing behind it like the tail of a comet, before hitting the surface and disappearing with a loud plunk.

Cary’s face crumbled and a sob tore out of him. Ty caught him before he could sink to his knees, holding him close, stroking his hair. He might have said things, too—silly, soothing things he’d be embarrassed to recall later. But Cary probably didn’t hear them anyway. He was crying—the ugly, convulsive crying of a heartbroken child, and Ty’s heart was breaking right along with his.

The rain poured down, soaking clothes that were already beyond filthy, but neither of them cared. Cary’s sobs finally subsided, and he shuddered in Ty’s arms, sniffling. He started to pull away, but Ty held him tight, careful not to put pressure on the injured arm, and after a few tense minutes, Cary relaxed, leaning against him and burying his face in Ty’s tattered jacket.

“It’s okay, baby,” Ty whispered and planted a ghostly kiss on his head. “Or it will be.”

Cary shifted to look up at him and nodded. Despite the bone-deep weariness etched into the lines of his face and the puffiness around his red eyes, he looked calmer. He wiped his eyes in a jerky motion and stepped back to pull the gold ring off his finger.

“I understand now why you wanted it back so badly,” he said as he handed it to Ty with a wry smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes; they were still full of shock and grief.

Ty took the ring. It glinted in his palm—a simple thing, but it had saved Cary’s life when Ty had been powerless to do so. He took Cary’s right hand and slipped the gold band back on his ring finger. It was both an apology and a promise Ty wouldn’t let himself utter out loud.

“Keep it,” he said, gently squeezing Cary’s hand shut. His voice was too raw, and he swallowed to stop it from cracking. “That way I’ll know you’ll never be harmed by magic again.”

“Protecting the silly little ‘common’?”

“You’re anything but common. You’re the bravest person I know,” Ty said, the words spilling out before he could clamp down on them.

“For throwing that thing out?”

“For believing you can do without it.”

There was a slight pause as Cary digested that.

“We would never have had a moment’s peace with that thing,” he said finally and sighed. “Giordano would never let it go, and others might have become too interested if I kept using it. I don’t want us to go through this kind of hell again.”

“But that’s not why you got rid of it,” Ty said.

“No,” Cary agreed.

They stood there in silence for a while, still holding each other as they got soaked through.

Ty didn’t fail to notice that “us,” but even as his heart leapt with joy at the short word, he knew hope was futile. With the amulet gone, there were no more conflicting interests, no more hidden agendas, no more games. Similarly, there also was nothing holding them together anymore. Ty was stupid enough to have fallen in love with the man he’d planned to con, but there was no way Cary would feel the same for someone who’d tried to rob him and led him on with every intention of completing the task. Not to mention it was Ty’s fault Cary had been taken hostage and nearly killed by a mad sorcerer. Cary would have to be mad himself not to harbor a grudge, let alone return any feelings Ty might have. Once the adrenaline haze dissipated and Cary realized that Ty had inadvertently fucked up everything he had going for himself, any attraction he may have been feeling would turn to resentment.

It would be better to save himself the heartache. He’d see to it that Cary was returned home safe and sound, say his goodbyes, and pretend like none of this had ever happened. He’d already done enough damage, and, frankly, he wasn’t sure his current shaky mental state would allow him to bear the inevitable scorn and rejection stoically.

Ty was a mess, and Cary deserved so much better and so much more than he could ever hope to give him.

“Come on,” he said, letting his hands fall from Cary’s shoulders and schooling his face into a neutral expression. He’d said enough sentimental crap already. “Let’s get you to a hospital.”