The Tragedy of Knowledge (22 page)

With a solid nod, I moved to hover over Gérard.

“Let me.” Gavin stood next to me, pulling his knife from his belt.

“No, I volunteer for the sacrifice,” I said, hoping such a simple declaration would suffice. Sticking my boot into Gérard’s side, I nudged and forced him to roll over so he was facing me. His tired eyes stared back at me, with no evidence of fear for the fact that his life was about to end. Instead, an arrogant grin teased his lips, the sight revolting.

“How does it feel?” he asked, droplets of sweat beading over his forehead and cheeks. “To know after all of this, you’ll always be a slave to my world.”

Every ounce of my desire for justice, and every empathetic strain of my heart, was charged into the look I gave him, thoughts of my friends, family, and countless innocents that had been affected by his greed, all swirling through my consciousness. How did it feel to be the one hanging over him with the weapon that would sentence him and free the ones I loved?

It felt
fantastic
.

I turned to look up at Gavin, a question in my eyes.

“I can’t hear Josh anymore,” he answered. “I think they’re gone.” Nodding, I stooped until my knees hit the floor. Gérard didn’t deserve an answer to that question. But I gave him one anyway, for me, not for him. “I’ll be a slave to love,” I breathed, clasping the dagger tight between my fingers, raising it high above my head so I could peer down and see his final breath. “And you’ll be … gone.” With a steady, swift thrust, I shoved the dagger down and into his chest, until with a thick smack, it sank deep and lodged there.

Falling back, I caught myself with the heels of my hands, watching in wonder as a shining golden light burst from the dagger’s blade, casting an angelic, vertical beam that hit the throne room’s ceiling. Gavin dropped behind me and scooped me into his lap, eyes trained on Gérard’s body as it shriveled up and hardened before us. He tucked my head under his chin and rocked me slowly, fingers wiping the tears from my cheeks.

And then the tears were gone and his lips found mine. A tingling spark swept my body from head to toe.

“Do you feel that?” I jutted my head back to look at him.

“Yeah, I do.…” His voice was hollow and everything turned to a blur. I blinked frantically, trying to fix my vision on his features, then on the room. Scanning my surroundings, the details became clearer, the tingling lessening and lifting from my body. Everything was light, from the inside out, all the heaviness dissipated.

“Cam?” Gavin pulled my head back to lock his gaze on mine, and when he did, I fell into his chest with tears and overwhelming bouts of laughter. He joined me and fell flat on his back, taking me with him. We laid there, our bodies shaking with delirium, and I took the opportunity to lazily bring my hand to his face, allowing my fingertips to graze his soft, human skin. My fingers skimmed his jawline and then over his chin, down to the curve of his neck, and I thought,
Yes, this is love
, and with a deep, satisfied breath,
the very thing that kept me mobile since the day I realized I was capable of giving and receiving it.

EPILOGUE

Amaranth

The gray skyline outlined the emerald hills in the distance, and a soft wind stung my cheeks. Grasping the back of the wooden chair with a tired breath, I sat and gazed out at the windmill. The shuffling of footsteps on the cobblestone street stirred me from my midday, dreamy haze. Everything was so quiet and still, so peaceful, that even the slightest disturbance felt unnatural. Especially now, with the few of us that remained. Some of the Amaranthians hadn’t made it out of the portal in time, and some were still hidden throughout the city’s villages, having managed to evade the bloodshed that erupted due to the war. There were families hidden in the debris left behind in tattered pantries, cabinets, and just about every nook and cranny they could fit. Their ingenuity to hide and survive was more and more impressive each time we uncovered a new spot.

And then there were the remaining guards who didn’t make it out in time, who’d once answered to Samira and Gérard’s every call. When their curses were lifted, they were trapped with us here, forced to help us rebuild a new village from the ground up, using what little supplies we had.

The shuffling footsteps grew closer and I twisted in my seat to turn and find their source. The movement left me winded.

“Hey, baby,” Gavin said as he walked up the porch steps to plant a peck on my cheek. The flicker in his chocolate eyes brought a smile to my lips. I would never grow tired of seeing him human.

Never.

He bent down and kissed my belly. “And hey, baby.” He smiled up at me, rubbing my stomach. He crouched down to kiss it again.

“Gav,” I warned him, “don’t start talking to it again, you already had a whole conversation with it this morning.”

“It?” His brows shot up, his shy smile twisting his lips.

“It, my belly. You know what I mean.” I ran my fingers through his hair, then leaned back in my chair, resigned to let him gab away if he’d keep glowing like that.

“It’s okay, love. You’re off the hook … for now. I have something I want to show you, come on.” He stood and took my hand. “You won’t have to walk far, I promise.”

“Okay, where to?” I rose to my feet awkwardly, then waddled down the steps and let him lead the way.

“You’ll see.”

We moseyed down the main street hand in hand, ambling along as if we had all the time in the world. Well, we did have nothing but time. It was an odd feeling, one I still wasn’t well acquainted with. The slow pace of our new lifestyle was jarring; transitioning from a non-stop race to save your life to a leisurely stroll in the park required quite the mental adjustment. Feeling Gavin’s soft, human skin in my hand as we strolled along, I couldn’t help but savor every second of our walk. I never wanted to take this gift for granted.

We stopped in front of one of the newly constructed shops. It was so modest and flimsy looking, I was afraid it might collapse when we walked inside. Looks were deceiving, though, because when we walked in, the surrounding walls and ceiling structure looked solid and cozy, and something smelled so good, my mouth watered.

“Is that … oh my—”

“Chicken parmesan. Nice and fresh,” Gavin answered, his face lighting up at my expression. “Come on back. I had to pay the guys down at the farm to bring me the poultry. They’re thinking about opening a little butcher shop in the West Village. They have a good amount of livestock remaining, and the more magic they pick up, they might be able to increase their numbers.”

He led me through the dim space to a cozy kitchen area in the back. Leaning to the window to open the shutters, he let hazy sunlight into the room, and I couldn’t contain my surprise. “Gavin!”

“You like?” His timid grin appeared again, and he grabbed a towel from the stove handle to wipe his hands.

“Like it? Are you kidding? This is … this is
incredible
.” He’d not only managed to arrange a shabby old stove in the corner, he’d built wood cabinets and countertops to create a fully functional kitchen. It was rustic and homey, and I didn’t miss a single detail he’d included in the set-up. From the spice rack with our initials carved into the side to the hand-painted backsplash, I knew he’d put his heart and soul into this kitchen. I scanned the stovetop again, inhaling deeply the scent of his signature pasta sauce, but froze when I spotted the framed photo above the stove.

“What do you think?” he said. “I thought … you know.”

My words caught in my throat as I studied the picture in the clunky straw frame. It was an old shot of Audrey and Gabe back in Louisiana, Gabe’s arms casually wrapped around Aud’s shoulders, her head thrown back in uninhibited laughter. Gabe’s eyes were on her, and I think it was Gavin who had taken the shot, because a sauce-covered wood spoon was obstructing the side of the lens, its blurry silhouette cutting off the left side of Audrey’s head. “One of the nights you were cooking for them back at your place?” I said.

“Yeah, I finally managed to snatch the pot from Audrey and take over the kitchen again. She was throwing a fit over the sauce that night and wouldn’t let me cook. She was driving me crazy, and Gabe was useless.” He laughed fondly. “He was just sitting around, getting a kick out of our bickering.”

“Sounds like Gabe. And Audrey was certainly Queen of Throwing Fits.” I joined him in soft laughter and stepped closer to the frame, reaching out to stroke it, as if it were a medium to all the life in that photograph. “I love it, Gav. I’m blown away that you did all this. Isn’t it the mom who’s supposed to be nesting or whatever? And here you are, building us a kitchen.”

“Nah,” he took my hand, “there’s more to it than that. Follow me.”

“More?”

“
Mmmhhhmm
.”

He led me back out the way we came, moving to the main windows to push open the heavy shutters. Light poured in and danced across four round pub-like tables in the center of the room. Shaggy tan linens covered them, and each one had a single red rose in the center, each propped up in an old tin can. Gavin strolled to the far end of the room and stepped up onto a chair to reach a sheet-like covering that hung from the top of the wall, over a counter that opened up to the kitchen area we’d just come from. Yanking it down, he shook out the dust and gave his very best “ta-da” presentation, turning to catch my expression.

Although the sunlight was minimal in the room, I could make out each bright red letter painted on the wall: “Audrey’s Kitchen.” To the left, behind the chair Gavin stood on, was a tiny, triangle-shaped stage tucked into the room’s corner, an acoustic guitar propped up against the wall. Noticing my appraisal of the stage, Gavin stepped down from the chair and picked up the guitar, wiping the dust off.

“Arianna and Joel would want music here,” he said. “I can cook, and people can come in and play while I serve the food. I made a menu based off Gabe’s favorites. He was Audrey’s biggest fan, so …”

“Gavin …” My hand cupped my mouth and I braced myself on the back of one of the chairs. “They would love this.”

“I think so, too.” He smiled, crossing the room to wrap me in his arms. Our embrace was interrupted when two women appeared at the door, knocking softly on the frame to announce their presence.

“Greta?” Gavin pulled back and turned to them. “Denise? What’s up?”

“There’s something happening in the castle you should see,” Greta spoke up, wiping her hands on her apron. “Well, you both should see, although I’m not sure Camille is up for a trek up that hill.”

“No, I don’t think she is,” he answered, wiping his stubbly jaw. “I’ll come on up though, is everything okay?”

“I think so.…” Greta exchanged a nervous glance with Denise, and I perked up.

“It’s not anything to do with
him
, is it?” I said. We’d buried the remains of Gérard’s ashes behind the castle, first giving the fallen members of the resistance their own graves and burials to pay our respects. Still, simply having remnants of him close by gave me chills.

“Oh heavens no,” Greta said, “nothing like that.”

Gavin peered down at me and we all took a collective sigh of relief. “Good,” he said, walking to the door to follow them out.

“Wait. I want to go with you.”

Greta’s eyebrows shot up and she looked to Gavin. “Honey, you’re about to pop,” she said. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, Gavin will help me.” I squeezed his hand. “I might move a little slow, but I want to see what all the fuss is about.”

Denise and Greta couldn’t hold back their girlish glee. It was too cute to deprive them of it, and I really did want to know what was going on up at the castle. Gavin and I hadn’t visited since the burials.

After a tiring walk up the valley’s hill, we passed through the dirt-trodden path where the gates once stood and made our way inside the castle, to the main throne room. Samira’s altar had been repurposed, covered in potions, herbs, and all sorts of materials taken from Dali and Akim’s windmill bunker. Their spell books and supplies had been moved here, and now the space was used as a sort of workshop and library, where the remaining humans could learn about the witches’ history and learn how to conjure. So far, we’d learned how to use the magic for food and other necessities. The results weren’t always perfect; sometimes we’d wind up with a bucket of fish when we were shooting for some eggs, but we were making progress, and beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Behind the altar, on each side of the fireplace sat two massive bookshelves the men had built to store all the resources from the haven. Some of the shelves housed more books, ones that taught us about the ancients and their magic, while others shelved historical artifacts and the remaining supplies that had been horded in the haven for emergencies. Our dream was to create a mecca of information for the humans living here, knowledge that would someday be passed on to their children and their children’s children. I for one never wanted my child to wonder about her parents’ history, or the history of the frozen souls or witches.

Admiring the throne room’s transformation when we entered brought me great satisfaction, and the pride on Gavin’s face told me he felt the same.