The Saint (33 page)

I've heard of kissing away boo-boos
. . . Joy began.

Don't,
Adora replied.
No jokes. Not now.

“I'm sorry,” Kris said, looking at her lips. But he didn't look sorry. In fact, if he felt some emotion other than hunger, she couldn't see it.

“I'm not.” The words came out without thinking.

Kris's eyes widened, and then he looked away from her, studying the sky with great attention. Away from his gaze, her heart slowed by degrees and the dizziness receded. Maybe she wasn't going to have a heart attack after all.

“But, Kris, much as I enjoyed it, I think I should tell you that I've never been good at passing my body around to near strangers—no matter how attractive the man,” she warned him gently when she could finally speak. “My last misadventure with Two-face was an aberration. With me, the mind goes first, the heart follows. The body comes last. It isn't fashionable behavior these days, I hear, but as with most things, I prefer vintage: clothes, cars and courting rituals. I think it's because I've always suspected on some level what I really am and don't trust people to accept me.”

Kris smiled and asked with equal calm, “Do you really imagine that I would want it any other way? It's not as though I'm a hormone-driven teen.”

No, but he is Goddess-driven,
Joy said.

“Were you ever a horny teenager?” Adora asked, unable to picture it. “I can't quite imagine. In fact, I can't see you as a child at all.”

His lips quirked. “I think that goes beyond the scope of the biography I plan—but, yes. At least, I had moments when I felt the fey equivalent of teen lust. However, I soon learned that, in my world, a man who can't control himself will end up being controlled. And being part of the Dark Court was never an idea that appealed to me. I don't think it appeals to you, either. That's why you're resisting the pull.”

She shook her head. “This is so weird, Kris. You don't—can't—understand,” she complained. “And I don't just mean the dragon and stuff. I can feel your desire battering me. I can hear your thoughts— feel them touching my skin. This isn't normal, and I don't know how to evaluate anything I'm feeling. I'm afraid that my senses have turned into liars.”

Evaluate? Did you really say that? I mean, I wasn't expecting you to quote sonnets, but—

Shut up!

“I know it's odd. But all you must understand—
believe
—for now, is that in spite of this . . . this moment of craziness, I am not a caveman who would take you against your will. Nor do I use magic to manipulate people. No matter what the Goddess wants, Adora, I will accept only willing gifts from you.”

“But you do need me . . . to reconnect to Gaia?”

“Maybe. Probably. I'd like to tell you a soothing lie about this but will not insult you that way. I need you. I also know that you must come to me because it's what you want to do: Otherwise, it won't work.” Kris's voice was slightly harsh and he was breathing harder than usual, but she would stake her life that he was in control of himself. “And nothing will happen until I see some sign that it is you and not the magic that moves you toward me. I know what's authentic and won't settle for anything less than the real deal.”

Which was more than she could say. Lust was still crawling through her body and fogging her brain. Was she fey-struck? The ever-shrinking rational part of her mind wondered if she gave in to the desire, would their infatuation eventually be as bad as her parents' had been? Would Kris become her meat and drink? Her oxygen? It seemed like it could happen, because in that moment when their lips had met, she had wanted him more than she wanted her next breath.

Fight it,
Joy said uneasily.
There's no taking it back if you make a mistake.

Damn it, I'm trying to resist, but it's like I'm crawling with ants.

She noticed then that Kris was damp with sweat and there were faint scars on his body, long claw marks that disappeared under the towel he had hitched at his waist. The sight chilled some of her ardor. The marks, though pale, were wide and deep, and they would never have healed had he been human—he'd have died first. Jack had said that when he found Kris, Kris was badly wounded, but she hadn't expected anything like this.

“Oh, Kris . . .” Adora reached out tentatively, wanting to smooth away the evidence of suffering, but Kris dropped his hands from her shoulders and stepped away. The sunlight glinted off his body, almost blinding her, but she was sure that she had seen him stir under that inadequate towel. A part of her was terribly pleased. The rest of her felt very nervous. She sensed that desire still circled them, ready to resume the attack if they gave any sign of relaxing their vigilance.

“I'm pretty sure that I meant everything I just said, but let's not test my resolve,” Kris suggested.

She swallowed, trying to think clearly. It was like fighting through dense smoke. “I want to say yes. I just . . . I don't understand who you are. You're . . . too many people. I'm confused,” she almost wailed.
And I don't know who I am, either.

Kris sighed and scrubbed the side of his face. “What makes you
you?
” he asked. “Your body? The color of your hair or eyes?”

Adora blinked. The question helped her focus. “I don't know. The matter of identity is complex—,” she began.

“Of course you know. What makes up an identity may be complex, but what alters it is not. Are you
you
because you're blonde?” he persisted. “If you colored your hair, would you change inside?”

The question was annoying, banal. Being with Kris was like watching a foreign film without subtitles. General actions were clear, but the subtleties of conversation were often beyond her.

“Of course not,” she answered when he didn't go on.

“Is it your nationality? Your job?” he pursued. “If you changed either, would you cease to be you?”

“Well . . . no. But, Kris—”

“And neither do I. I don't change, either— whatever my age or body or occupation.” He exhaled slowly. “Adora, you liked me before you believed in my past. Before we were here and exposed to the magical attraction. Have some faith that what you're feeling, though enhanced by proximity to magic, is real. Ask any questions you have, think it through. Take all the time you need. But I'm asking you not to reject me out of hand—however odd this seems— because you're frightened.”

Faith. But that was her problem, wasn't it? She had very little, except faith that things would go wrong.

“Anyway, you don't think that you might be considered a little—uh—different, yourself?” Kris asked. “That maybe your once-imagined ideal man or life isn't out there?”

“I'm only weird when compared to normal people,” she answered. But Adora found herself smiling. He had a point. She had always been peculiar, and being in the most glass of houses, she really had no right to be throwing stones.

She leaned against the large rock that had frightened her, took a few long breaths and relaxed. As she slumped, she could see some of the tension ease from Kris. Still, the air seemed thin and too hot for comfort though she wasn't in the direct sun.

“What's it like here during the summer?” she asked.

“Hell at high noon. This particular stretch of valley is like a blast furnace. It wasn't fire that did this. It's the slow, torturous heat from the sun that burned away all life.”

They stood side by side with arms almost touching, Kris looking into the day and Adora looking at him.

Do you really think you guys have a chance?
Joy asked.

I don't know,
Adora replied.

And she didn't. Kris had never married, and she thought she knew why. He had deep passions—she could even see, at least in part, the vision that moved him. And it was on this goal that his focus lay. What was a woman—even all women—next to that?

“Everything,” Kris said, turning his head to look down at her. “If she's the right one.”

The answer left her shaken.

“Did you know that every soul has a résumé of wants and expectations?” Kris asked suddenly,
again looking out over the baked valley. “A wish list of what it feels it needs and deserves.”

“How does yours read?” Adora said. She was able to think again, now that he was a few steps away and his gaze turned elsewhere, but her body still pulsed dully, still wanted to just lie down on the ground and invite Kris in.

“Hm.
‘Eternal optimist seeks same to make peaceful planet. Must play well with others—dictators and liars not wanted. Life insurance recommended'.”

Adora smiled a little, but did not ask Kris to read her. She wasn't ready to know what he saw; she was too vulnerable and unsure. She might accept his evaluation of her character because she was so lost, and though she trusted him, she didn't want anyone making her over in some image that wasn't truly natural.

“The trick in life is aiming oneself in the right direction so their needs are met. It amazes me how people will go haring off after fame or fortune or family—even security—when they don't really want it. They simply accept the notion that they should pursue these goals, and do so blindly.” He tilted his head and watched a buzzard riding the thermals overhead. “Of course, there are pitfalls the other way. The fearful and uncommitted rarely find joy, either. It takes balance.”

He means you.

“I know,” Adora said to both Joy and Kris. “I think maybe I just need some time to adjust. You probably can't imagine how weird this last week has been. My universe has been upended.”

Kris nodded. “Maybe you should come inside, though, while you're thinking things through. The sun will make you sick if you stay out any longer.”

“Okay.” But she was reluctant. Inside Cadalach, the pull toward Kris was stronger, and she found it difficult to think when her body was constantly tingling.

“There are plenty of places to take walks, to sit on cliffs and look at Nature inside,” Kris assured her. “You needn't stay with me. The mound is . . . huge.”

“Because it isn't just one space, it's many spaces and many times?” she guessed.

“More or less,” he agreed.

She tried to comprehend this, but was already lost. She sensed that to truly understand she would have to make a leap of faith—of acceptance. But she didn't much care for jumping blind. Even if she were willing, she hadn't a clue in which direction to jump.

Adora had always known that she could run away from life. But not from death. That was the rule she knew: Everyone died and stayed dead. And time only flowed one way. But Kris seemed to be saying this wasn't the case.

Except . . . he didn't really avoid death, did he?
Joy asked suddenly.

No, not if she understood what the fey holy texts were saying. He had been . . . Her brain shied away from the awful word
sacrificed.

He did mention life insurance. Maybe he knows it will happen again
.
Maybe he knows he's putting you in danger.

He wouldn't,
Adora insisted.

Hey, things got pretty rough in L.A. And Jack said he needed you to get back in touch with his God. That would be one hell of a motivator.

Looking past Kris at the now open tunnels of Cadalach—tunnels that could take them hundreds, even thousands, of miles in minutes if what she'd been told was true—Adora could feel the outside world shrinking. It was so small that any place could be reached. Nowhere was safe. There was no place that Kris and this magic couldn't find her. Not even in death. Hadn't Io said that? There was no escaping her feelings for him, not this side of the grave and perhaps not even after death.

“Don't let it get to you,” Kris said, touching her shoulder lightly, his words and presence dispelling the gathering claustrophobia. “Eventually, this will all feel normal. You will understand.”

“That's partly what I'm afraid of. I can never go back to blissful ignorance, can I? I'll never see things the same way again.”

Kris looked sad. “You'd be the first,” he said. “I tried, but . . . Come to me when you're ready, when you can say what I need to hear and mean it. Until then . . . I think maybe I'll keep my distance. There are plenty of other rooms in the shian to stay in until . . .”

Eat my heart. Drink my soul. Love me to death
. This time the voice was clear. If Kris could read her thoughts, she had to accept that she was now reading his. She could feel his longing as if it were her own—could feel it but couldn't respond.

With a long last look at her, Kris turned and disappeared back inside the mound.

The door remained open, but Adora didn't follow him immediately. Shade was shrinking, but she clung to the narrow band that remained, and there she perched on her rock halfway between the devil of desire and the deep blue sea of loneliness and tried again to think.

If she walked away from Kris and Cadalach— assuming she still could—it would probably mean some sort of emotional death. Or at least an amputation. But if she stayed . . . Well, that might mean death too. She could end up emotionally enslaved, fey-struck. What a choice.

But she would have to decide, and soon. There was a war going on for her . . . heart? Soul? Something. She could tell that the Goddess needed some element of her, either emotional or physical, and not just for Kris. A part of Adora wanted to keep whatever it was back, to remain whole and safe, if lonely. Another part was so tired of being alone— so horribly empty—and it wanted her to give herself to Kris and whatever else was moving them. Whatever the final cost.

The irony was, she might not actually have any choice.

There's always some choice,
Joy argued.