Retribution (54 page)

“I don't give a shit,” Quin snapped, his heart rate spiking with Layla’s. “Are there other shops being targeted?”

“Yes. Two in Seaside, a winery and an art gallery.”

Quin glanced at Cadman and Caitrin, making sure they heard their shops might already be ash. “When?”

“I don't know,” Doreen answered. “Today. That's all I know.”

Still thrashing, the male scolded his partner. “Shut up, Doreen!”

“It's over, Killian,” she shot back. “Agro's not here. Our lives are in their hands now, and I don't want to die a painful death.”

“Traitor. You'll die a traitor's death.”

“What are you going to do, Killian? Tell on me? You're not going anywhere. They're going to kill you.”

“She's right,” Layla confirmed, pulling her hand away. “You won't be leaving this lawn alive, Killian. I've seen what's in your head, and you don't deserve to breathe the same air we do. You're a murderous waste of space.”

She reached over and touched Doreen's head, and Quin quickly reset Killian’s mind shield.

Layla’s heart skipped several beats as she collected the female’s thoughts. Then she retracted her hand and narrowed her eyes.
 
“You, however, are just a lost seventeen-year-old.”
 

Morrigan gasped. “She's only seventeen?”

“Barely,” Layla answered, finding Quin's chest with her tense shoulder blades. “You can move back now, Quin.”
 

He sighed as he took several large steps away from the Unforgivables, and he would have kept going, but Layla had other plans. “That's far enough. Move the witch, Weylin.”

“Bring her here,” Morrigan instructed, and Weylin dragged the limp body of the sobbing witch away from her partner.

Layla’s black gaze landed on Killian, and the shiny rope around his wrists loosened. “Raise your right hand,” she demanded.

“Fuck you,” he refused.

She flicked her fingers at his right hand, and it shot into the air as the sleeve of his cloak rolled up. “Tell my family what you told me.”

“I didn't tell you shit.”

“Fine.” Her fingers twitched, and Killian screamed as smoke rolled from his raised hand and arm, his skin crackling and popping as it blistered and broke, releasing an acrid odor. His screams grew louder, and he jerked his right leg, trying to pull it from the bindings as it smoldered from the knee down.
 

By the time Layla stopped torching his appendages, the flesh that remained sagged from bone, and his cloak and the grass were soaked with blood and bodily fluids. His screams turned to gasps and sobs as he fell face first to the ground. Then he began vomiting and shaking while clutching the earth with his uninjured hand. His retching eventually ceased, but his shaking got worse.

“Did that hurt?” Layla asked. “It seemed like it hurt, but it's the least you deserve for putting a baby through the same thing. Doreen didn’t know about the kids, but you did. You knew there were two helpless children in that building when you engulfed it in flames, and you didn't care. You didn't give a shit if they burned alive, if their beautiful, healthy skin melted from their tiny bones, and you held no sympathy when you heard their screams. You still don't. You're remorseless. That makes you the most disgusting piece-of-shit I've ever met, and you will die today. Men who find it necessary to murder babies don't have a place in this world, so we'll do everyone a favor and take you out of it. If my family won't do it, I will.” She swallowed, scanning the condemned from burnt finger to burnt toe. Then she looked at Quin with shiny, emerald eyes. “Get me away from him.”

“Gladly,” Quin agreed, taking flight toward their house.

“By the way, Killian,” she called back, “you told me everything.”

Chapter 37

Quin lowered Layla's feet to their living room floor, and Alana ran toward them, wearing a clean outfit and a happy aura. “Wook, Waywa. My hand isn't hot anymowe.”

Layla had concealed her aura right before entering the house, and the tumultuous emotions gave her the shakes. Plus her heart still thundered its impossible beat, and her muscles remained numb yet fortified. She was a mess, and barely maintained her composure as she leaned forward to examine Alana's hand. “I'm so glad it's better, sweetie. Are you enjoying your tea party?”

“Yes. Wiww you have tea with me?”

“Um... not right now, angel. But give me just a little while to talk to Quinlan. Then we'll all three have tea together. Okay?”

“Otay, I'we wait.”

Layla kissed Alana’s tiny hand. Then she straightened and moved further into her crowded living room. Everyone looked up, and she forced herself to smile at the children. “Is everyone having fun?”

The kids voiced their rambunctious approval, and Layla waved a hand through the air, filling the room with bubbles. As the kids cheered and jumped to catch them, Layla clapped her hands, and confetti made from wildflower petals rained from the ceiling.
 

In their excitement, none of the children noticed Layla's quick departure, and she was in her bedroom before the confetti hit the floor. She released her aura as she buried her face in a pillow, but then Quin landed next to her, and she threw the pillow aside, curling into his chest instead. With a shuddering gasp, her tears broke free.
 

She cried for Alana – an innocent two-year-old enduring terror no one should experience, let alone a toddler. She cried for Brayden – a happy and ornery boy who, at the tender yet observant age of five, was old enough to know exactly what was going on, old enough to know most of his family may die soon, and instead of living the carefree life every kid deserves, he was fighting fires. She cried for Selena, Drystan, Edana and Devlin, who'd just watched their dedication burn to the ground, nearly taking their lives and the lives of their children with it. She cried for herself, for the things she'd said and the things she'd done, and she cried for the way she felt – so hateful, vengeful, harmful and shameful. She even cried for Doreen, the misguided seventeen-year-old whose future was unknown, and with that, she cried for all the misguided teenagers in Agro's army, the young lives she and her family were preparing to destroy. Then she cried for the volunteers risking their lives for their neighbors, their family or their freedom. She cried for all of it, and even though she knew her tears were useless and wouldn't change a damn thing, she had to shed them. If she didn't, she’d explode or become an empty vessel wasting space and oxygen.

Quin stroked her hair and kissed her head until her sobs quieted. Then he glanced at her aura, relieved to find the lovely haze drained of crimson. He sighed, feeling the weight on his heart lessen. Then he softly squeezed while whispering into her curls. “I'm sorry, love.”

“I know, Quin. Me, too.”
 

She cleaned her face then sat up, crossing her legs while smoothing her hair. They watched each other as she completed her task. Then her shoulders slouched, her sad gaze dropping to the bed. She swallowed hard while fidgeting with the comforter, and her lashes shone with fresh tears when she swept them up. “Do you think I'm a monster?”

“No,” he answered, pulling her onto his lap. “You're my perfect angel and you always will be.”

“I hate the way it feels, Quin. I despise the person I become when the rage gets ahold of me, but at the same time, it's like I'll vomit if I don't use it. Like all that hate and guilt and sadness is rolling around inside me, and it's wretched, and if I don't get it out, my body will force it away, like I'll heave the horrid concoction onto the lawn if I don't let it loose on its target. And I know it's so dangerous for me to react that way. I'm new to everything and too strong for my own good. But I can't help but feel justified in my actions, which is a whole new layer of guilt, because who the hell am I to deserve justice? But I take it anyway, and that scares me.” She found his hand, clutching it like her life depended on it. “What if I change, Quin? What if we live through this challenge to face the next, then the one after that and the one after that, and it eventually gets to where my head and heart can't take it anymore? Just like all the other monsters who were good people until life's hardships broke them down. What if I become one of them, Quin?”

“Look at me, Layla.” He waited for her to obey. Then he carefully cradled her cheeks in his numb palms. “That will never happen, so find something else to worry about.”

“But I'm horrible, Quin. I'm serving inhumane punishment when it's not mine to serve, and I
wanted
to do it. I deserve to rot in prison.”

“No, love. You have to stop thinking that way. This world you're in has no prisons. These people you're dealing with don't give a shit about justice or who the hell serves it. This is not a judicial world, Layla. We catch our own criminals, we make our own judgments, and we serve our own justice. There's no one out there to do it for us, so we're left to carry the burden of punishing the offenders ourselves, and yes, it is a burden. I know because I carry it. But that doesn't make you a monster, and it sure as hell doesn't make you one of them. You're nothing like them. By serving punishment to wizards like Killian, you're not only protecting the people you love, you're protecting people you don't even know.” He stroked her cheek, then her lips. Then he moved his fingers to her heart. “And you wouldn't be the angelic person you are if you didn't feel guilty about it.”

“I didn't have to burn him, Quin. That was torture, not protection.”

“No, you didn't have to burn him, and I hate that you went through that. I know how it feels to induce pain for the purpose of revenge. As satisfying as it seems, it also hurts, and I wish you didn’t have to experience that kind of turmoil. But Killian deserved what he got. Not everyone would agree, but we're the judges in our world, and when someone commits a murderous crime against the judge's family, they're going to get a harsh punishment.”

“Then I guess I'll have to get used to feeling like a monster.”

“I wish you wouldn't look at it like that, Layla. I know you think burning him was inhumane, but his crimes aren't human crimes. They're magical crimes, which warps everything the hexless world believes about crime and punishment.”

She dropped her gaze as her aura sadly pulsed. “His crimes are horrible, Quin. I can't believe the things he's done, and he feels no regret. All he cares about are his own disgusting needs and his loyalty to Agro. It’s sickening to think there are people out there who choose to live that way.”

“Now there’s one less.”

She sighed and looked back up. “I hate that Alana and Brayden got caught up in this. Out of everything that's happened, that's the hardest to take. It makes me want to rip out Killian's throat then move on to Agro's. I hate that man.”

“Now there's something everyone can agree on. Agro's a menace who's long overdue for a serving of justice. But we're going to get our chance very soon.”

“Tomorrow night,” she whispered, pulling his fingertips into a kiss. Then she worked her way off his lap.

“It’s looking that way,” he said, his heart returning to normal.

She slid off the bed then held out a hand. “It has to be tomorrow or he’ll beat us to it. The only reason he hasn’t already attacked is because he can’t prove I’m here. He tried to get confirmation from the shops and it didn’t work. That’s why he ordered them burned, because he was throwing a fit. He’s waiting to hear from another spy, but if that guy doesn’t return today with something solid, Agro will spend tonight preparing for battle; says he’s ready to burn the whole state down. We need to let him find me before that happens.”

Quin stared at her with wide eyes and an open mouth. Then he shook his head clear and took her hand. “Did you get all that from Killian?”

She nodded as she led him to the door. “Yes, and I confirmed it when I mind searched Doreen. It’s insane how fast the memories came at me, and how clear they appeared. It’s like I lived their lives in a matter of seconds, like everything stored in their brains transferred to mine. Anyway, back to Agro. The good news is his army’s morale is low. The bad news is they’re eager to get this job out of the way so their boss will chill out and stop killing everyone he sees. Doreen’s terrified of him.” She halted in the hallway and looked up. “What are we going to do about her?”

He gave the question a moment of serious consideration. Then he kissed Layla’s forehead. “We’ll find her family and see if there’s any hope for rehabilitation. But she has to stay here until after the battle. We can’t risk her going to Agro.”

“Right,” Layla sighed, continuing down the hall. “And right now we have a tea party date with an angel.”

Layla and Quin did their best to forget their troubles and enjoy Alana’s company. Then they were dealt more tragedy when they returned to the lawn to find Morrigan crying.

“Your gallery,” Layla whispered.

Caitrin and Morrigan looked up. Then Morrigan sobbed and hid herself in his neck.

“It’s gone,” he confirmed, “so is Cadman’s winery.”

Layla turned into Quin’s chest, struggling to breathe through the guilt and sorrow. The loss was immeasurable. Not the monetary loss, but the sentimental and creative loss – invaluable artwork up in flames. “I’m sorry.”

Morrigan was in no position to reassure her, but Caitrin gave it a shot. “We would have burned it down ourselves to save you, Layla.”