Defying Fate (12 page)

Then the trail turned, and he lost sight of the house.

It took almost an hour
to hike to Thistle’s house. Ariane walked slowly, as if her legs were tied together at the knees, and James was half-tempted to throw her over his shoulder to get there faster.

He wasn’t the only impatient one. Despite Hannah’s warnings, Nathaniel kept disappearing from sight, running ahead on the trail only to return minutes later. Every second that he was gone felt like hours. James kept expecting to turn a corner and find Nathaniel dead.

But eventually the forest thinned, and James recognized Thistle’s backyard. She had replaced the siding on her house and moved the garden since his last visit.

“Wait here,” James said, and he left Ariane to sit on a tree stump while he jogged to the shed.

Of all the things that had changed, Thistle’s van was not among them. It was a giant brown box on wheels, a relic of the sixties, and a mobile made of colorful glass still dangled in one of the windows.

The driver’s side door was unlocked. James climbed ran his hands over the steering wheel cover, which was made of the same shag material as the carpet in back. The upholstery still smelled like sticky-sweet smoke. A pair of fuzzy dice dangled from the rearview mirror, and he ripped them down.

Thistle’s keys weren’t in the glove box like they used to be, but he didn’t let that deter him. He had watched Elise hotwire a car once. Though he wasn’t sure where she had picked up that particular skill, he was grateful for it now.

James pulled out the wires behind the steering column and sparked the engine to life.

The van grumbled like a dragon, and the radio crackled. He punched the button to silence it.

He jumped out of the van and waved to the others.

Ariane, Nathaniel, and Hannah filed through the yard. James opened the back for them, and Nathaniel balked at the door, nose wrinkling.

“Oh, this van,” Ariane whispered to Hannah with a girlish giggle. “Christine and I borrowed this van once, and we…” At Hannah’s look, she stopped talking.

There were two benches in the back, one against each side. Ariane and Nathaniel took position across from each other. Hannah slammed the door and joined James in the front seat.

He disengaged the emergency break and let the van roll out of the shed, steering it over the curb and onto the street. James didn’t breathe until they had turned the corner, leaving Thistle’s house far behind them.

He handed the map to Hannah. “I’ll need you to give me directions.”

She frowned at the paper, turning it over in her hands. “I see the entrance to the Haven, but where are we on this?”

“Give it to me,” Nathaniel said with a long-suffering sigh.

He took the map from her, messed with his cell phone, and then handed that to Hannah. The route to the turnoff was highlighted in blue on his GPS.

“You don’t always need magic if you’re not stupid,” he said.

James opened his mouth to snap at him, but Hannah’s cold stare caught his eye. So all he said was, “Thank you for helping.”

By the time that James got on the freeway heading northwest, he was starting to feel giddy—Nathaniel’s snark aside.

In the past few days, he had been arrested, escaped from detention, and jumped from a crashing airplane. Now there was nothing between them and safety but a couple hundred miles of road and a handful of Union guards. It could only get easier from here.

A shadow flashed across the moon, killing James’s sense of relief. The silhouette looked like an eagle, but eagles didn’t fly at night, and he had never seen a bird of prey that size.

James hadn’t escaped the angel just yet.

They were being hunted.

They stopped twice on
the
way to the Haven—long enough to fill the van with gas, and for Ariane to empty her bladder. Then Hannah took a turn behind the wheel and drove like a woman possessed.

It was almost dawn when Nathaniel’s GPS chimed, announcing that they had reached the service road. The sky was still black, but the morning birds were beginning to chirp in the trees as the owls fell silent.

The instant that they stopped the car, Nathaniel jumped out of the van.

James moved to follow. Hannah stopped him.

“I’ll take care of it,” she said.

Hannah followed her son out of the van. She only managed to catch up with him when he had almost disappeared among the trees, well outside of earshot.

That left James sitting in the van with Ariane. He had avoided her all night, but there was no avoiding her now.

He felt like he should speak to her, reminisce about the past, or maybe make apologies—none of which sounded pleasant. Instead, he kept his gaze forward and pretended to watch for danger.

But Ariane didn’t seem to share James’s antisocial urges. “Sit with me,” she said, patting the bench beside her.

He didn’t move. “I should keep an eye out.”

A tiny, teasing smile spread over her lips. “Wouldn’t you like to learn some magic?”

“I’m extremely doubtful that you know anything I don’t.”

“Then I’m extremely thrilled to surprise you. Join me. Please.”

He climbed into the back of the van. It was strange for James to kneel at Ariane’s feet, the same way that he had when he was just a boy and she was a young woman. But her time in Hell had suspended Ariane in her twenties; now he was the one going gray, and she was hardly any older than Elise.

She gave a bright laugh at the sight of him on his knees. “Sit
here
,” Ariane said, patting the bench beside her again.

Hesitantly, James took a seat.

She turned to lean against him. Her soft hair brushed against his cheek, the aroma of her perfume wafting around him.

Her body molded against his, and James’s spine stiffened. “Ariane…”

She took his hand and placed his palm flat against her stomach. “Quiet,” she said, fingers tightening on his when he tried to pull away.

And then—a kick.

“Shh,” Ariane told her stomach. “Do you feel the way that the muscle tenses, James?”

He was doing his best not to feel anything at all. She smelled and felt too much like Elise. It was a cruel reminder of what he had done, the oaths he had kept, the promises he had broken.

But he did feel her stomach muscles tensing in a contraction.

“Birthing magic is among the most ancient.” Ariane’s voice was low and soothing. “The gods damned us with agony in labor, and so our human midwives found ways around that curse. You are no midwife, but you can ease my pain.”

“Are you in pain?”

“Yes,” she said simply. “It won’t be long before I give birth.”

Ariane plucked a small vial of potion out of the neck of her dress. She massaged the oil over the back of James’s hand. It warmed with the radiant heat of magic, tingling and pulsing in time with the flow of his blood.

“This ritual was written in one of Pamela’s books. You should look it up so that you can use it whenever you choose,” Ariane said.

“I don’t think I’ll have use for it.”

“No?” She set the vial aside. “Focus the magic into my womb. Imagine the baby calming inside.”

As awful as James found the task, he couldn’t help but fall under the sway of her words. His eyes slid shut. He could almost see the fetus curled in warm, perfect darkness and hear the beating of its heart.

He had missed doing such magic with Hannah. It filled him with sadness to feel Ariane’s baby and know that he had never held his own. Nathaniel wouldn’t even speak to him now.

Ariane whispered words of magic, and the energy flowed between their hands.

The contractions slowed.

She turned in his arms, smiling up at him with a faint, mischievous smile. Almost close enough to kiss. But despite the smile, there was anger in her eyes. “I told you to stay away from my first daughter,” she said.

“You did,” James said, his mouth dry.

“Tell me what you’ve done to her,” Ariane said.

James pushed her away. She didn’t fight back. She simply sat up, rubbing the remaining oil into her hands like lotion.

He took off his glasses. Pinched the bridge of his nose. “Many years ago, Landon sent me there. He sent me to…” It was impossible to say the name aloud, as though it was trapped inside the cage of his clenched teeth.

“Araboth,” Ariane filled in softly. “The garden.”

James let out a breath. “I went there. There was a woman, an ancient woman, who called herself Eve. She had been expecting me.”

Ariane’s eyes glimmered. “And you swore an oath.”

“I swore an oath,” he repeated, barely above a whisper. “I swore to carry on the White Ash Coven’s line. I swore that if something were to happen to Elise…”

“You would take her back.”

James rubbed a hand over his eyes. He couldn’t face Ariane. “I told Elise that we had to run because He would find us if we didn’t. I told her that I was on her side. I lied, Ariane.”

“But it took you more than ten years to send her there.”

“She wasn’t ready to go back.” He dropped his head into his hands. “I wasn’t ready.”

“You love her.” It wasn’t a question.

James peered up at Ariane through his fingers. The scar on his left shoulder was hurting again, and he rubbed it with two fingers. “I didn’t just swear oaths, Ariane. The garden changed me. Yes, I love her—but worse than that…I am
fascinated
with her.”

Rain drizzled outside, rapping softly on the roof of the van, filling it with the sound of gentle drumming. The windows were fogged from their breathing, and the light outside was beginning to lighten to a velvety gray. The air was too warm and close.

“Your eyes used to be brown,” Ariane said.

He considered denying it. But there was no point, not anymore.

“Yes,” James sighed. “My eyes used to be brown.”

The back door of the van opened. Hannah stood on the other side, and James was relieved to see Nathaniel at her back.

“Are you ready to find the outpost?” she asked.

James wiped his oily hands off on his slacks, then crawled to the door, jumping to the mud outside. “More than ready.”

“I’ll wait here,” Ariane said. She wasn’t smiling anymore.

XI

James half-expected Nathaniel to
make a break for it as they hiked up the service road toward the Haven. He certainly looked like he was thinking about it. He hung back from his mother with his hood over his head and his hands jammed in his pockets, eyeing the tree line as if searching for an escape route.

But whatever urge he may have had to flee seemed to be overpowered by the urge to stay close to his mother. He hovered at Hannah’s shoulder like a very tall bulldog.

Whether Nathaniel was guarding her from the Union or from James, he wasn’t sure.

James could tell when they were entering Union territory because of the “No Trespassing” signs. Although the UKA logo wasn’t on them, they were painted black with bold white lettering—creative, as always.

Halfway up the hill, they came to an iron gate. The accompanying sign was much less innocuous than the others. It said, “Photography is Prohibited,” and “Use of Deadly Force Authorized.”

The gate was only intended to stop cars, not pedestrians, so James simply stepped around the posts.

Hannah didn’t follow.

“What’s wrong?” James asked.

“We’re being watched.” Her eyes flicked to the trees above them.

James looked up. He didn’t see the little black boxes until a red LED caught his eye. Once he spotted one, he could see them everywhere: cameras aimed at the trail and surrounding forest.

He took Allyson’s disruptor from his pocket and punched the button. Nothing obvious happened. Maybe the batteries were dead.

Frowning, he hit the button again, and again. The red glowing LEDs stayed on.

James slid the device back into his pocket. “If they’ve already seen us, it’s too late anyway. They’re probably expecting us by now.”

“Great,” Hannah said.

They continued to climb.

“Lethal force won’t be their first action,” James said. “We’ll have at least a few seconds to attack.”

“Oh, a few seconds,” she said. “I can’t believe that I was worried.”

Nathaniel didn’t seem happy with that evaluation of the situation. “I’m going to look ahead.”

Before either of them could stop him, he jogged up the trail and disappeared into the gray, drizzly morning.

“Should we stop him?” James asked.

Hannah gave a short laugh. “Go ahead and try.”

Neither of them got the opportunity. Almost as soon as he disappeared, Nathaniel returned at a run.

“There’s a car up there,” he said, pink-cheeked and breathless.

The Union must have been coming to investigate. “Good,” James said, trying to inject some confidence into his voice. “I’ll take a look.”

He left the others behind, heading up the hill to investigate the car.

It was a bulky black machine with a steel cowcatcher and machine gun mounted outside the passenger window. A man leaned through an open door into the driver’s seat. He wore black slacks, black hiking boots, and a black belt. Definitely Union.

He heard the kopis’s voice muffled by the SUV. “Lousy equipment… Patric? Hey, Patric, can you hear me?”

James stepped up behind the kopis. “Do you need help?”

The man straightened. His nametag said “Charles Wells”—nobody that James recognized, thankfully.

Charles reached for his sidearm. “This is a restricted area.”

James responded by punching him in the head.

He was still sore from his last few fistfights, but his aim was getting better. He managed to deliver an Elise-quality sucker punch.

Charles hit the ground, unconscious. The pistol flew from his hand.

James leaned into the SUV to check the dashboard. The engine was running, but the equipment had no signal. So Allyson’s disruptor had done its job after all.

He turned the SUV off, pocketed the keys, and waved to Hannah and Nathaniel.

It took them a minute to catch up, so James took the opportunity to search the trunk. They didn’t have ropes, but he found a box of zip ties behind the seat. He used them to restrain the kopis’s unconscious body.