Torn. Part 22

I was wrong.

I wandered over to the fireplace. The low flames licked at the neatly laid logs, giving the room a soft glow and comforting crackle. "Each night, a lump of charcoal is removed. The priest or priestess tends it until dawn, using their breath as bellows, and to rekindle the fire the next morning. Fire and air, you see," she said.

She gestured to the floor beneath us. Polished stones, each no bigger than an egg, were fitted together in a s.h.i.+fting, swirling pattern. "River stones. Earth, shaped by water. Everything here represents the links between one type of magic and another."

"How old is this place?" Everything had a patina of well-tended age, rough edges worn smooth through years of use.

"As old as memory. This is where our kind comes in order to be bound together-the Binding Temple."

In the center of the oval room, four stone columns stood like compa.s.s points, one in each direction. Emblazoned on each was a series of intricate drawings. Up close, I realized they weren't drawings, but meticulous carvings, and I lifted a hand to touch them.

"Don't touch them," she said sharply. "Few of our kind can withstand them; you would be killed before you recognized what was happening."

I took a hasty step back. "What are they?"

"Direct portals to the raw magic."

"Who carved them? I mean, if you can't touch them . . ."

"The original Matriarchs and Patriarchs. Those who led our Houses at the dawn of our world. Much has changed since then, and our powers are not what they once were."

"But wasn't Verity superpowerful already? Why would she need to be bound to anyone?"

"In order to repair the magic, Verity needed access to all four elements. And Lucien is a DeFoudre, Heir to his House. Their binding ensured the magic would be evenly balanced among the four Houses."

"So this is some sort of arranged marriage? Because I'm not . . . with Luc. . . ." My entire body blushed. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

"It's not a marriage, but binding does forge an unbreakable link. It should never be undertaken lightly."

Panic started to build, closing my throat. "I don't want to be tied to Luc forever."

She touched my shoulder, solemn. "There is no halfway when it comes to such things, Mo. Binding the Vessel and the Heir is part of the prophecy."

"What if it doesn't work?"

"If we fail tonight, the Torrent will proceed unchecked. Our world will be irretrievably broken, yours imperiled."

I was here for Verity, but the reminder that there was more at stake tugged at me. "Is it dangerous? The Binding?"

"Not in the ceremony, per se. To be bound makes an individual uniquely vulnerable, because you give away a piece of your self-your strength. But you gain strength as well."

"And it has to be Luc?"

"Lucien is the last of the DeFoudres."

"What, no cute brothers?"

Her mouth turned down. "There was. He died when Lucien was still quite young. Lucien's role in the prophecy was sealed before his talents surfaced."

I closed my eyes, swamped with pity and a sudden understanding. Luc believed in the prophecy because he'd been raised to play his part in it, because it made sense of his brother's death. Like me, he'd been the one left behind, but he'd never even had a choice. "I didn't know."

"No. He wouldn't speak of it to you."

Of course not. I wasn't the chosen one, just the stand-in. I wasn't the girl he wanted, just the one he could have. And if we went through with this, we'd be stuck with each other for the rest of our lives.

"I'm not sure . . ."

She gave a small, regretful shrug. "There is no other way, Mo. Consider it one of the terms of your employment."

My jaw dropped, irritation crowding out nervousness. "My employment? I'm doing you a favor, Evangeline. If I can help you out, great, but that's not why I'm here."

Her chin came up, eyes narrowing. "You're here to play a part. Do it well, and you can have the justice you keep clamoring for. If not, you're of little use."

Her meaning was clear. If I couldn't pull this off, she wouldn't help me find out who'd killed Verity. It struck me that Evangeline and Uncle Billy would probably get along quite well-both of them knew how to manipulate you so deftly that by the time you realized you were being handled, there was no way out. Evangeline might do it with cool elegance, and Billy with folksy charm, but underneath, they were both weaving webs.

I'd taken too long to recognize it, but now that I had, I wasn't going to play the fly.

I jammed my fists into the pocket of my sweats.h.i.+rt. "And Luc's okay with the change?"

"Lucien understands the responsibilities of his calling."

A responsibility. That's what I was to Luc-an obligation, nothing more. Something p.r.i.c.kled behind my eyelids.

In all the years we'd been friends, I'd never wanted to be Verity. I'd wished for a family like hers. I'd admired the way that she made friends, how easily she moved through the treacherous waters of junior high and high school, like it was all one amusing adventure. But I'd never tried to be her. Until now.

G.o.d, it sucked.

It sucked because I liked being on the sidelines, not in the spotlight. It sucked because I couldn't do magic, or read people, or be brave, and she could. Most of all, it sucked because I wanted Luc on my own terms, and if I went through with the binding, the terms would be Verity's. I wouldn't really have him at all.

I could keep my word to my best friend or I could ask Luc to ignore the prophecy and be with me, but I couldn't do both. And you're never supposed to choose a guy over your friends, right?

"How long will it take?" I said, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in my chest.

Evangeline smiled, her eyes gleaming like a cat's. "Not as long as you'd expect." She pointed to an opening cut into the wall. "There's a small pool through there; bathe, change into the clothing that's been left for you. I'll summon Lucien. When you're ready, we'll begin."

I walked slowly through the narrow pa.s.sageway, trailing my fingers over rough stone walls. It opened suddenly to a room with a perfectly circular pool in the center. Stone steps led down into the water, and light from a dozen small torches made the surface flicker and glow.

I edged around the pool to a wooden bench and toed off my shoes, looking around uneasily. Anyone could come in and see me. Before I lost my nerve, I s.h.i.+mmied out of my clothes and slipped into the water.

It was warm as a Jacuzzi, the water coming to my shoulders. I drifted for a few minutes, letting the heat penetrate to my bones, hoping it would soothe my jangling nerves. My hair grew heavy as it soaked up the water, and I let myself sink below the surface. It was tempting to stay like that, coc.o.o.ned in the warmth, the only sound my own heartbeat, my entire body weightless. Eventually, though, I had to come up for air.

I could do this. We would stop the Torrent and I would walk away. Whatever linked me to Luc would have to unlink. Verity's world wasn't mine. If I'd learned anything in the past few weeks, it was that-and there was no reason for me to stay any longer than I had to. My own life might be a disaster, but I understood the rules, or most of them, anyway. I would never understand how the magical world worked, or the people in it. Why bother trying?

I'd treat this as a job, the way Colin treated me. Something to avoid being tangled up in. My mind flashed to the image of my hand on his sleeve, his fingers closing over mine. I couldn't imagine what I'd tell him tomorrow, but it wouldn't be the truth, and I felt bad about it.

I ducked my head under the water one final time and climbed out of the pool. Folded on the bench was a thick white towel, and I wrapped it around myself. After the warmth of the pool, the cool air of the room gave me goose b.u.mps, and I snuggled into the fluffy cotton, squeezing my hair dry as best I could. The change of clothes Evangeline had mentioned was hanging from an iron hook in the wall.

It was a dress-dark blue silk shot through with silvery threads like stars. I slipped it over my head and hugged my bare arms as the hem settled around my ankles. My hands were shaking as I dragged my fingers through my hair.

There was nothing left to do but go back. As I padded through the hall, I wondered if Verity had resented the prophecy. Had she felt that it was taking away her freedom? Or had she believed it so much that there was no room for resentment, the way Luc seemed to?

The walk back to the main chamber seemed shorter, no matter how slowly I moved. Luc had arrived, and he was speaking to Evangeline, too low for me to hear. He was wearing loose pants, the same fabric as my dress, and no s.h.i.+rt. I pressed my lips together.

"Thought you might be trying to find a back door," he said, catching sight of me. His voice was light, but his expression was clouded, eyes roving over my face.

"No such luck," I said.

"You ready?" He held out a hand, beckoning.

I couldn't speak. My mouth felt cottony and my skin felt feverish, and I stared at him, the shape of his mouth so soft against the planes of his face, the firelight throwing glints of gold into his hair. My fingers curled into the fabric of my dress, crus.h.i.+ng the delicate silk, reminding me of his skin when we'd kissed. I wanted that again, the swooping feeling, the heat, the sheer glorious recklessness of it. To go through with the binding meant giving all of that up. I'd be accepting that I was only second best, second choice, the consolation prize.

He stepped closer. "We need a little time," he said to Evangeline.

She shook her head. "We don't have it. It's imperative to find out if she'll suit."

"She will," he said quietly, keeping his eyes on mine. "But we do it right, or not at all." I flinched at the threat in his voice. There was none of the charming persuasion I was used to, the easy command. This was bluntly menacing, and I tried to pull back. He tightened his hold on my hands and turned to Evangeline. "Go. Now."

Her mouth pursed, like she'd bitten into a plum and discovered a lemon underneath. Then the look smoothed out and she inclined her head. "Five minutes." With a sweep of her hand, she opened a door to Between and vanished.

Luc looked at me as if he'd never seen me before. "You have curly hair," he said, threading his fingers through it.

It was such a strange thing to notice, I couldn't help relaxing. "I . . . do. I wear it straight, mostly." I'd always hated the wild, frizzing springiness of my hair. Bits were always escaping from whatever clip or scrunchie I'd put in, wisps flying everywhere. It was easier to blow-dry it straight and rely on an a.r.s.enal of styling products.

"I like it," he said. "Like the way the light catches."

"Thank you," I said automatically, tensing up again. "You don't have to be nice. We can just get this over with."

"Mouse, you know I never do anything just to be nice. Well, almost never," he amended. Out of thin air, he produced a small, carefully folded piece of violet silk and held it out to me.

"My scarf!"

"You forgot it at my place. I thought you might be missin' it." He wrapped it around my neck, his fingers gentle and warm through the thin fabric.

"Thank you," I said. This time, the words were genuine.

"You're welcome. Still nervous?"

"Aren't you?"

"It doesn't signify." He laced his fingers through mine. "I'm sorry it's all shaking out like this. If there was another way, I'd take it, I swear."

Meaning being bound to me, fate or no fate, was the last thing he wanted. I looked away.

"Breathe for me, Mouse. C'mon."

I blew out a shaky breath, and he tugged me closer, brought my two hands to his lips. "It won't be so bad."

"Is it going to hurt? Magic always hurts."

He c.o.c.ked his head. "What do you mean?"

"Going Between. Evangeline's concealment spell. The guy at the bar. Every time I get near magic, it hurts."

"All magic has a cost," he said, sounding apologetic. "You've been taking the worst of it, bein' Flat. Does it hurt when I heal you?"

The sparkling warmth whenever he touched me was unsettling, but it didn't hurt-not the way he meant, anyway. "No. You?"

He shrugged. "Nothing I can't handle. Tonight's different. It'll hurt a little, but you'll feel a rush at the same time."

"You did this with Verity? The spell?"

His grip loosened. "No. She wasn't ready. I gave her the ring right before she came back. We figured there was still time."

I considered that. Verity was not a patient person. She didn't know the meaning of delayed gratification. If she wanted Luc, she'd have gone through with the ceremony before she came home. Maybe he'd been telling me the truth. Maybe they hadn't been together, not really. If so, I'd have a part of him Verity hadn't.

The guilt that had been dragging at me like an anchor lessened slightly.

"What happens... after?"

"That's up to us. Binding doesn't force you to care about someone. It deepens what's already there."

Oh, h.e.l.l. My feelings for Luc, awkward and terrifying as they were, would be more intense, and he . . . would still want Verity. But Evangeline had said that I could go back to my normal life. Maybe I'd be like the soldiers on the History Channel, the ones whose war wounds acted up whenever it was going to rain. Maybe I'd carry the connection with me but miss him only when there was a drop in the barometric pressure. In which case, I could move to the desert and I wouldn't think about him anymore.

He let go of my fingers and cupped my face. "It's okay to be scared. But it won't work if you're not willing, if your heart's not in it."

The sheer beauty of him in the firelight overwhelmed me, his skin like amber, the absolute rightness of his fingers curving along my face. I could feel my pulse kicking up, my breath coming faster.

"Your heart in it?"

My heart-the eight million pieces it had cracked into since that night in the alley-couldn't say no. I nodded. The fall might kill me, but I couldn't help jumping.

It was possible this wouldn't be a complete disaster. It wasn't completely unthinkable that I could step into the prophecy, prevent the Torrent, find the people who had ordered Verity's death, make Luc love me, and survive. Unlikely, but not impossible.

Of course, when Evangeline appeared, looking even more annoyed and superior than usual, "unlikely" seemed too generous a word.

"Are we all feeling better now?" she asked, brus.h.i.+ng at the perfectly smooth linen tunic she wore.

Luc raised an eyebrow. "Awful easy for you to be flip, since you ain't the one going through the ceremony."

"Indeed. But I seem to be the only one of us mindful of how dire this situation is."

"That's c.r.a.p," Luc said in a low, furious voice. "You think you got a better grip on this because you're a Matriarch? Mouse and I, we both paid a price to be here, and we know what's at stake."

"I'm ready now," I said, hoping my voice sounded stronger than I felt.

"Shall we, then?"

Luc reached for my hand, gave one encouraging squeeze, and led me to the stone columns at the center of the room. The tops tapered into arches, joined in the middle to form a dome. Evangeline stood just outside the intricately carved columns while Luc guided me underneath, careful to keep either of us from touching the stone structure. The hum of their power made the nape of my neck tingle. I edged away.