Across The Divide (20 page)

I nod, wanting to please her and bring back her smile.

She kisses my hand again and lets it go, standing straight. “Don’t forget how much I love you. What I am doing is for you. I hope someday you will understand and forgive me.”

The image of her fades, but it pushes another one to the forefront. A memory from later the same day.

Ancient fear from this part of my life now washes over me in waves, like I stepped right back in time.

A man is standing over me.

My father.

Terror keeps me from looking up, my eyes are locked on my birthday cake.

“But I want cake,” I sniffle.

“I told you, you will eat your dinner first,” he yells, and I feel tears pricking under my lashes.

“It’s his birthday,” my mother’s kind voice comes from behind the man. “Let him have some cake.”

Even then I knew what was coming. The sound of his hand slapping her across the face echoes in the large dining room. The room, like every other space in the castle, is cold and forbidding. My mother is the only warmth in this place.

“I am his father. He will obey me.”

“But I want cake.” I can feel tears pooling under my lids. Maybe if I had stayed quiet, kept my mouth shut, everything would have been fine.

“You. Want. Cake? Fine.” The man grabs my uneaten dinner and flips the plate over. Peas, carrots, bits of meat sauce, and mush fall on top of the birthday cake. A hand comes down and smashes the beautiful cake.

“Valefor!” My mother yells out my father’s name.

A cry escapes my mouth as I watch the beautiful cake being destroyed.

“Now eat your cake!”

I stare at it, tears sliding down my face.

“Eat. It!”

I still don’t move.

“You want your damn cake. Now eat it,” my father’s voice growls in my ear. I can hear my mother arguing with him to leave me alone, but we know he won’t. His anger at my noncompliance causes him to howl.

“DO. AS. I. SAY!” My head is shoved into the sweet bread. Frosting and sauce sting my eyes.

“Valefor, stop!” My mother’s voice is frantic and high pitched in the background.

“He must learn to obey me.”

I struggle to breathe, but he holds my head down till I start eating.

Even now I can feel the bile coming up my throat. The various flavors coating my tongue like rotting ghosts. To this day I can’t handle my food mixing. I never knew why.

I eat till I throw up, and then he forces me to continue till everything is gone.

“Now, will you obey me when I ask you to do something?” Father’s question is more a demand.

I nod.

“Look at me and answer.”

Anger suddenly burns inside me, and I lift my head, my eyes locking on his. “Yes. Father.” I struggle with the word, not able to say it clearly, but he demands I call him that.

The man’s face was suddenly clear in my memory. The rage shaping his features, his voice, crystalizing in my head. Air froze in my chest. My lungs no longer want to produce oxygen.

“No.” I shook my head back and forth. The man’s face hadn’t changed much. Age had only distinguished him, but there was no denying…

Valefor.

Vadik.

The world under my feet disappeared, my stomach falling through the floor.

Valefor was a name of an ancient demon: The Duke of Thieves.

No. This can’t be. This man. This demon cannot be my father.
Though I can feel the truth of it in my blood. Literally. Wanderer didn’t have to mean thief, simply a fae who jumped like I could. Yet thievery was an essential part of me—it was in my DNA to steal. To be the best. Valefor passed down the power of speed and dexterity, the skill of sharper hands, eyes, and mind.

If my father was a demon, what was my mother? How did I become a Wanderer?

Her white eyes in the painting stared at me, almost provoking me to remember. Then like the last, another recollection careened down on me, physically curling me over.

I sit on my mother’s hip as she rushes down the hallway, wiping my face clean of frosting, vomit, and other food. Her mouth is twisted in anger, but her eyes are soft as she searches me over.

“I am so sorry,” she whispers quietly. “He will never touch you again. I swear.”

She doesn’t head to my room or even hers but takes me to the east side of the castle, an area we rarely went.

Her mood keeps me silent. It isn’t the anger or even sadness that frightens me, but her resolve. She holds her head high with defiance and strength.

Weaving us through a maze of hallways, upstairs, down, we finally exit the castle into the dark forest.

“Mamma?” I snuggle closer to her.

“Remember when I asked you to be strong and brave?”

I nod against her shoulder. “But I’m scared, Mamma.”

“You don’t need to be. Never again. But I need you to trust me, my love. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” I say proudly. “I be brave, Mamma.”

“That’s my boy.”

We walk for a while more, the night solid around us, and sounds of wild animals resonate in the depths of the forest. I wiggle in tighter to her.

A light in the distance perks up my head. A torch. Mamma’s steps scurry faster.

We get close enough to the person holding the torch that I can see a woman. A cape and hood obscure her face in the shadows, but I see long white hair trailing over her chest to her waist. She is small but sturdy. Confident. The air around her is dense and chalky, almost like I can taste the grittiness on my tongue. I feel her energy bumping against my skin. She holds a lot of power, scaring me.

“You sure you are ready to do this, Ingrid?” The woman’s voice is deep and rough.

“Yes, Margo.” Mother stops in front of her.

The woman, Margo, pushes back her hood, revealing a young, pretty face, which goes against her gravelly voice. Her face says she is young and vibrant, while her voice and eyes convey she is old, full of life experiences. Her hazel eyes dig into my mother’s before she nods. “Yes, I can see you are.”

“I can’t take any more. For him or me.” Mamma adjusts me higher on her hip, kissing me on the forehead.

“I told you. The fae did not name me a high-ranking Druid for nothing. I warned you he was not what he seemed.”

My mother blows out an irritated breath. “Not what he seems is not the same as telling me I was fooled into marrying a demon.”

The white-haired woman swishes her hand. “It’s not an exact science.”

“Let us begin.” Mamma looks over her shoulder nervously.

“Ingrid, I need you to understand what you are doing. This boy’s magic is not supposed to come to him until much later. He’s part demon, fae, and human. It’s unnatural. His body and mind might reject it if you force it forward now.”

“I am aware.” My mother’s voice tightens. “But you said you could see the power of the Wanderer in him. He will be able to jump.” She takes in a shaky breath.

“I said he carries the possibility of having the power,” Margo replies.

“Nothing is worse than the life he will have growing up with that monster. I will not let my son be tortured daily by that man. This is for the best.”

“Do you know what you are giving up? You will never see him again. He will never know his mother. He will probably lose all memory of you.”

“Yes. I do. I will give up the world to keep him safe. And I willingly surrender my life for his freedom.”

Margo presses her lips together, her lovely face showing sadness. She reaches up and touches my mother’s face, stroking it softly. “I will miss you, sweet girl. I wish I could have helped you more than I have.”

“You have been a dear friend to me. I appreciate all you have done.” The woman drops her hand, her eyes clouding. She turns away, heading for a large stone slab.

My mother sets me on my feet and drops to her knees next to me. Tears swell in her eyes. “I know you will forget me, but remember. Here.” She taps at my chest. “Mamma loves you. So much.”

A single tear slides down her face. My chubby fingers reach up and wipe it away. It seems to only cause them to come faster.

“We must act now. The exact placement of the moon is crucial.”

Mamma nods, keeping her eyes on me as she rises.

The woman places candles, a stone bowl, curved blade, a dead mongoose, and other items I cannot see on the rock slab.

“Okay, my boy. Be brave, be strong. No matter what darkness you feel inside, remember you have light too. Hold on to that.” She takes my hand and leads me over to the stone. She picks me up and sets me on top. “Don’t be scared, my love.”

Margo starts chanting behind me, drawing out a knife, and handing it to my mother. I try to be brave, but when Mamma draws the blade across her wrists, letting the blood fall freely from her arms into the bowl, I start to tremble. She pricks my finger, mixing our blood, drawing a line across my forehead and down my cheeks in blood. The chants behind me grow louder and more passionate.

I felt something ignite inside me and I shriek. My mother crumples to her knees. I want to go to her, but the fire burning inside me keeps me in place.

Margo is screaming out the chants as pressure crushes me from all sides. It builds and builds till I wither in pain. Then something snaps inside and I scream. I see my mother drop back on the ground. Her eyes open, staring vacantly at the sky.

Then everything goes black.

“Ryker!” Amara’s head poked out from around the corner, pulling me from my memories. “Come on. This is not the time to take in the art.”

“Her name was Ingrid.”

Amara glanced around nervously. “That’s nice for her, but we’ve got to go.”

“She was my mother.”

“What?”

“And Vadik…he’s my father.” I stared into Amara’s eyes, waiting for a reaction. Deep down I hoped the memories were false, but one glance at Amara, and I knew it was true.

Her eyes widened before she licked her lips.

“And you knew?”

“This is not the time.”

“Not. The. Time?” I gritted my teeth, stepping to her.

“Let’s get out of here first.” She bounced on her toes, anxious to move.

“Why. Are. You. Helping. Me?”

“Because, even if you don’t believe me, I do care about you.”

“Care?” I snorted. “Yeah, that’s hard to believe.”

“Ryker…”

“How could you not tell me?” I seethed. “You enjoy fucking father and son?”

Her dark eyes darted to mine, flashing with anger. “He is not the type who asks; he takes. And I did not have the luxury of saying no. I survived the best way I could.”

From what I recalled, it was the same way with my mother. I rubbed at my forehead.

“We can discuss how horrible I am later. First, let’s get out of here.”

I put my hands on my hips, shaking my head. “You are a piece of work, Amara.”

“So are you.” She whipped around and proceeded down the hall.

I took one step when a voice shouted from below, followed by an alarm, which blasted my eardrums with a sharp wail.

“Dammit,” Amara hissed. “Guess who finally realized I tricked them?”

“Tricked, and no blow job…they’re going to be pissed.” I followed her. “So what is your great plan?”

“We break out and steal his boat.” She dangled keys in my face.

My feet faltered. “This is your great plan?”

“Do you have a better one?”

Sadly, I didn’t. I wasn’t going to be caught by this bastard again. Technically he was my father, but he would never be one to me. Dhir was my father. He raised me, loved me, taught and mentored me.

Amara raced along the hall, the voices growing louder around the house.

Every exit was equipped with an alarm, but they already knew we were escaping. “Why aren’t we breaking down a door?” I demanded.

“They are not only armed, but some are triggered to spray acid on you.” She darted down another corridor.

“What?” I peered behind me, feeling and hearing people moving toward us.

“He wanted the intruder to be slowed down.”

“Fuck.” It was helpful Amara knew things about the house.

“There are a few safer exits,” she whispered over her shoulder.

The house sat on a slope, so on the backside you had to drop to the ground level. She slipped into a huge pantry with a slender rectangular window on the far wall. It looked wide enough for me…if I went sideways.

Amara ran for it. “I wish I could tell you it won’t hurt.” She reached the window. “But it will.”

My body reeled from the thought of more pain.

Pounding feet echoed off the kitchen tile. “I heard them this way,” a man yelled.

It’s funny what adrenaline and desperation can do. I grabbed my axe and swung at the window, shattering the windowpane before I went sailing into the glass shoulder first.

A mosaic of glass shattered, slicing my thin shirt and burrowing into my skin as I fell through. My stomach dropped at the weightlessness, while my mass dragged me to the ground with bone-crunching impact. Air pushed from my lungs when I landed, knocking me immobile for a moment. I heard Amara fall next to me, her frame hitting the grass with a sharp grunt. Glass sprinkled down on us and crunched under our bodies as we sat.

Alarms from our escape throbbed in my temple, but no acid. At least Amara did her homework. Fae wouldn’t die, but it would cripple us and send us in hibernation till we healed.

We both stood. Men’s voice shouted from the opening above. There was a low popping sound. The manicured lawn, with its shapely topiary and gracefully designed patio, didn’t give us much disguise. The yacht stood only a hundred yards away. If that escape didn’t pan out, we would swim and get lost in the sea of darkness.

A bullet zipped past my ear. “Shit.” I ducked and reached for Amara, pulling her close as we ran across the lawn. Vadik’s guards came from everywhere, shooting at us with silenced guns. I pushed my legs to move faster. Then pain exploded in my shoulder and I fell.

“Ryker!” Amara reached for me, but her gaze was fixed on the dozens of men advancing toward us. “Ryker, come on.”

She whirled around, footsteps moving in around us. Panic struck her face, and her body moved more wildly. Then she took off, running for the boat.

She was going to leave me. Her life was at greater risk than mine. Vadik still needed me. She would be killed instantly, and she knew it. More to the point, Amara always picked herself first.

With a roar, I dragged myself up. The ground pounded underneath me with the vibrations of approaching feet. I could see her on the private boat dock, vaulting onto the beautiful yacht. A rope tying the boat flung onto the berth, freeing it from its warden.

Prior to the breakout, Amara must have cut all lines connecting the boat to the dock, minus the one which kept it from drifting away from its mooring.

My bare feet dug into the dirt, pushing me forward. Blood seeped down the side of my body. My toes had barely crossed onto the dock when the motor of the boat rumbled to life, purring in the water.

A force knocked into me, stumbling me to the side. A man rolled past me, bounding up quickly.

Cadoc.

He withdrew the knife from his belt and sprang for me. I twisted, getting out of the way by a hair. My muscles along my side strained as I reached for my axe, pulling it out of its halter.

He wasn’t a talker, which was the only thing I liked about him. Garrett would be jabbering my ear off till I wanted to drive my own blade into my chest. Cadoc didn’t waste his breath. He did his job. That was it. He came after me again, the metal of the blade whooshing by me as we danced around each other, both taking swipes.

Then I heard the sound of the boat motor changing, digging deeper as it backed away from the pier. 
Fuck!
My only escape was leaving me. The boat moved away from the quay. Panic tapped at the monster inside me. Growling like a beast, I hunched down, running for Cadoc like he was a ramming cage. I hit him with as much force as I could, causing him to land on his back and slide down the pier.

I leaped for the boat, barely making it. Hope flared in my chest as the boat moved farther and farther out.

Then I felt something enter my side. I glanced down to see the end of a knife sticking out between my ribs. I glimpsed over my shoulder. Cadoc still laid on the deck, half curled up, his arm over his head as if he just threw something. My eye went back to the hilt sticking out of my body. I didn’t feel any pain but sensed myself falling forward.

My eyes closed before I crashed face-first onto the deck of the yacht.

Icy water along my forehead roused me. My eyes still didn’t want to open. I heard low indistinguishable voices mumbling around me.

“I gave him fae food and my own personal healing remedy,” a familiar woman’s voice spoke close to my ear. “The fever is still not down. He should be healing faster.”

The only thing I felt was the desperate need to move. To go find a girl.

Killkillkill.
The desire hissed in my head.

“He was beaten, almost whipped to death, hung by his wrists, and then gutted with a dagger. You think a bunch of weeds and spices are really going to help him?” another woman’s voice replied, sounding annoyed and farther away.

Find her. Kill her.
I gritted my teeth. I focused on the voices around me, taking my mind away from the urge.

The woman near me sighed, dampening my forehead again. “I need to go create more. A bit stronger this time. He needs to wake up. It’s been too long.”

A chair creaked, footsteps crossed the floor, then feet padded up the wooden stairs. The smell of herbs and medicinal plants filtered into my nose. The odor was familiar. Comforting. The scent instantly told me where I was. How I got here was the question.

I forced my lids to pry open. “Elthia?” My voice cracked over my dry throat.

I heard someone move and a face peered over mine.

“Amara?”

“You’re
finally
awake.” She sat in the chair next to the bed. My mind flickered to when Zoey had been in this bed, and I was the one sitting in the chair. It felt a long time ago now. We were both such different people then.

Now I was a son to a demon.

The sudden need for Zoey to be next to me, help me deal with this discovery, twisted in my chest, startling me. I wasn’t used to the intense emotions she brought out in me. When I shut the door on someone, I also shut out my feelings. I never let myself miss anyone. Even at the beginning, the girl inflicted anger and disgust deeper than any other before her. Now thoughts of her elicited the exact opposite.

Zoey was in every molecule of my skin. I wanted to blame it on the oath, that the promise caused me to feel this intensity. But it wouldn’t be the full truth. I had felt this way before I made the pledge.

I lifted my head and looked around the room. No doubt we were at Elthia’s. This place had at one time been my residence, if I could even call it that. After losing my human family, I never had a place to call home. I embraced my name and my title with fervor. I lived up to my reputation. The fewer strings, the better. The Wanderer never stayed anywhere long enough to call a place home. Elthia’s dwelling was the closest I had come, which was still a far cry from home. I had been with Amara the longest, but she had the same philosophy on staying in one place as I did. Liars and thieves had to keep moving before they got caught.

“What are we doing here? How?” I tried to sit up.

“Take it easy.” Amara helped me sit up. “You’ve been unconscious for a long time.”

“How long?”

“Nine days.” Aggravation flavored her words.

“Nine days?”

“Almost ten. But who’s counting.” She crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair. “I guess with them hunting us it’s for the best, but it sure is great to be stuck with another one of your ex-lovers. Fun.”

“How did we get here?”

“She brought you.” A voice came from the other side of the tiny room. Elthia stood at the base of the stairs. I hadn’t heard her come down. Her blonde dreads were woven in a loose side braid, laced with a colorful head scarf. She wore cream-colored baggy hemp pants and a flowery loose tank, which showed off the ink lines vining and flowering up one of her hands to her shoulder. Fabric braided bracelets decorated the other wrist.

Elthia held a bowl in one hand and a cloth in the other. Her bare feet padded noiselessly over to the foot of the bed. “You were conscious enough to get to my front door but no farther. I will not tell you how we got you downstairs. How’s your head?” She dipped the cloth into the bowl, wetting it.