Gold: A Bandia Novel Part 4

It wasn't enough, but I reached for it anyway, kissing him back with the same ferocity, until the only fire I felt was the one that burned for Blake. My hands were in his hair, pulling him closer. He groaned into my mouth. I closed my eyes against the bright silver light that grew around us.

The kiss ended as suddenly as it began, leaving my mouth cold and bruised. Before I could adjust my eyes against the light, there was another blinding flash. I could feel the emptiness where Blake had stood. He was gone.

Black smoke billowed out of the broken window, creating a screen that kept me hidden. It burned my nostrils and throat. I clamped my sweater over my mouth.

I turned toward the street and ran.

EIGHT.

The sun breaks through the clouds, sending rays of sunlight through the cracks in the blinds of the pub's main dining hall. The light casts the morning in a golden glow that's much too bright for my dark mood. A half cup of milk does nothing to temper the too-strong coffee, but I sip it anyway. I'm beginning to understand this country's fascination with tea. At least the coffee's better than the runny eggs and the chunk of igneous rock they try to pa.s.s off as a biscuit.

I slept little, spending half the night trying to work out how Austin could be back and what it might mean, and the other half planning my escape to nowhere in particular. All that matters is that I won't be anywhere near here when Blake arrives.

A shadow falls across my coffee. Austin stands over me, looking far better than when I left him on the beach, his hair combed into some semblance of style despite the unruly strands that fall into his eyes. He wears a pair of dark jeans and a form fitting cream sweater that appears calculated to show off the perfect proportions of lean muscle along his chest and shoulders. He grabs a chair from an adjacent table and pulls it to my table, straddling it backwards and placing his elbows on the back rest.

He glances at the suitcase on the floor beside me. "You don't have to leave on my account." His accent is softer than I remember, still more English than Irish.

"I'm pretty sure I do." His brown eyes meet mine, specks of gold reflecting the morning sunlight. "Why did you come here? To my home?"

I stare down at my coffee. I don't owe Austin an explanation.

"So that's it then. You're not going to talk to me?" Austin leans forward and lowers his voice. "I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this."

The bandia in me is there in an instant, all fire and vengeance. "I'll find a way to hurt you." I want to do more than hurt him. I want to destroy him. It's a fight to keep the fire from leaping to the surface and flambeing my breakfast.

He sighs. "You think you haven't?"

"Not nearly enough or you would still be locked in up in the underworld where you belong."

He doesn't respond except to gesture at the mess on my plate. "You going to eat that?"

"I've lost my appet.i.te." I push the plate toward him.

He pulls a fork from the setting next to me and digs in, shoveling the slop of eggs into his mouth in a way that is anything but G.o.dly.

"That's attractive."

"Is it?" He winks at me but doesn't lift his head from the plate. He doesn't try to talk to me again until he's cleaned the last bit of egg with a large hunk of biscuit. "You can't get a breakfast like that in the underworld. No chickens."

Curiosity gets the best of me. "What do you eat?"

His lip quirks. "Forbidden fruit."

I don't know why I bother. I reach for my suitcase. "It's been fun, but I have a train to catch." A life to live that doesn't include a war between the G.o.ds and the Sons of Killian. And certainly doesn't include the G.o.d who forced me to kill Blake.

He stops me with his gaze, his brown eyes nearly black as they bore into mine. "Your destiny is here."

"It's not." The hint of gold in Austin's eyes glows with an otherworldly light. The cloudiness in my head is the first sign that he's trying to get inside my head. I close my eyes and turn my back on him. "Stay the h.e.l.l out of my head."

"I'm not your enemy, Brianna."

"Sorry, but it's not your call. I'll pick my own sides, thanks."

He reaches for my wrist as I step away. "Don't go."

I jerk my arm from his grasp and spin to face him. A crease forms between his eyebrows, breaking up the sculpted lines of his face. The tiny flaw is magnified on him. He looks almost broken.

I want to hurt him. I want him dead. I should not want to reach out and touch that little imperfection, to smooth it away. I grab my roller bag and walk out of the dingy pub before I do something stupid.

Cath is about as far from a thriving metropolis as you can get, so it's not like there are little yellow cabs cruising up and down the street searching for wayward bandia in need of a lift. A sign across the street proclaims "taxi," in big black letters, and I dutifully stand by it, staring at my watch. Austin walks out of the pub a few minutes later. He stays on his side of the street, but I feel his eyes on me.

I turn to face the other direction.

After ten minutes, there's still no sign of anything resembling a taxi. The only traffic consist a tiny beige car, only slightly bigger than the Barbie Jeep I had when I was five. I glance at the clock on my phone and then back across the street.

Austin waves from across the street. "Do you need a lift?" He walks toward me even though I'm shaking my head. "I could drop you at the station."

"I don't accept rides from strangers."

"Then you're in luck. I'm hardly a stranger."

"Just strange. And evil. I'll pa.s.s."

"You think I'm evil?"

I meet his gaze, raising my eyebrows. After everything he's done, what am I supposed to think?

He opens his mouth and closes it again, before it falls open on its own. "For G.o.d's sake, Brianna, I'm a lot of things, but I'm not evil."

"Tell it to someone who is too blinded by your inhuman good looks to recognize the snake who thinks it's okay to kill to get what he wants."

"To protect what I care about."

All Austin cares about is his stupid war. "Murder by any other name ... "

He places his hand on the "taxi" sign and moves closer to me, invading my personal s.p.a.ce. "Are you so different? If I recall correctly, you were perfectly willing to try to kill me to save your b.l.o.o.d.y boyfriend."

"That was different."

"Was it?"

His words sting. Austin would've killed Blake if I hadn't lobbed a fire ball at him. Then Austin disappeared at the last second and I ended up killing Blake instead of saving him. I would've killed to save Blake, something Austin had counted on, and used against me. But Blake is alive now. I saved him. I cross my arms in front of me. "I brought him back."

"What are you talking about?" Austin's eyes narrow. The crease is back, deeper and angrier than before.

"Blake. I brought him back. With the reversal spell you used to save my horse."

Austin's hand curls into a tight fist before he catches himself and straightens his fingers. He looks past me, out at the harbor beyond the buildings dotting the street. "Then you've no choice but to run."

Since when does Austin not want me to fight the Sons? It's the only thing he's ever wanted from me.

"What happened to stay and face my destiny?"

"It's too late. You've already let them win."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe the Sons should win? That the earth is better off without a bunch of G.o.ds turning humanity into indentured servants?"

Austin flashes me a rueful smile. "Actually, it has."

Not the reaction I expect. At all.

A small silver hatchback pulls up. Austin leans into the window and makes sure the driver knows the way to the train station in Tralee, as I pull my bag into the seat beside me and shut the door.

Austin nods at me through the window. "Get as far from here as you can. No matter what you feel, just keep going. The pull to come back will get weaker over time. In a few weeks, you shouldn't feel it at all."

"I'm not coming back." Lord knows I need to get away from here. Away from Austin. Away from Blake. Away from all of this.

"The best laid plans of mice and men." He chews on his lower lip in a way that makes him look almost human. Then he smiles and the effect is ruined. "I could go with you."

G.o.ds.

"How do I put this in terms you can understand? Wait. Got it. No."

His smile fades by a fraction. "Worth a shot. Do you know how to reach Mickel?"

I hold up the phone. "Covered."

He lifts his chin and backs away from the car. As he walks back across the street, his shoulders slump forward.

Once the taxi is a good mile out of Cath, I lean my head against the window and let my cheek settle against the cool gla.s.s. Everything about Austin is wrong. It's not like him to let me go so easily. One minute he's telling me I have to stay and the next he's giving the driver directions to the train station. I should be glad, but all I can do is wonder what he thinks he knows that I don't. And since when does Austin slump? I push the thought away. None of it matters. What matters is that I'm getting far, far away.

I get a whole twenty miles out of town before I'm hit with the first pang of longing to go back.

NINE.

I do my best to ignore the driving beat of my heart, an insistent pounding that gets stronger with every mile that stretches between me and Cath. I won't stay in Ireland and wait for the Sons to come find me. I definitely won't sit around and wait for Blake. Whatever magic brought us together, it wasn't love. Love means giving someone the benefit of the doubt. Blake doesn't trust me. He never did.

And there's no way I'm going anywhere near Austin Montgomery. No. I will get on the train to Dublin and then take a plane to somewhere far, far away. I still have the money from selling Dart. I could survive for a long time on that money if I needed to. I could go to college, have a normal life.

I flip the phone Mick gave me around in my hands a few times before I dial my parents. Mom picks up on the first ring. She sounds so normal. So much like home.

"It's me." I have to work to keep the emotion out of my voice. No sense worrying her.

"How are you doing?" She asks.

"Good," I say. I don't know if it's true or not. I'm alive, and I'll be long gone before the Sons get anywhere near me, so the chances of me staying alive for the next few weeks at least are promising. "I'm on the move again, but I don't want you to worry. I'll call again in a few days."

Mom and Dad didn't argue with me when Joe brought me home from Mallory's party and I started throwing things in a suitcase, with no idea where I was going or what I was doing beyond running. They knew what I was, and they didn't want me to fight the Sons any more than I did.

Still, it's hard to be away from the people who care about me. The people I love.

I imagine Mom's pasted-on realtor smile as she talks. "Jenna and Dart took reserve champion in their division at Griffith Park this weekend." At least her ability to change the subject to more comfortable topics hasn't left her.

"That's great." I wish I could've been there to see it, but I don't say anything. I can't go back to Rancho Domingo any more than I can go back to Cath. I can only go forward. To what?

My future is shrouded in gray fog. Nothing feels certain. I have nothing to go toward. Nothing that matters.

Everyone I love is behind me.

The taxi pulls into the train station and parks next to the curb. I grip the phone tighter. "I've got to go." I hang up and shove a handful of bills to the driver.

Every step toward the ticket counter feels heavier than the last. The pounding in my chest becomes more p.r.o.nounced, an ancient beat that calls to my soul. I need to get on that train. And then on a plane. To where? A p.r.i.c.kle at the back of my neck makes me look over my shoulder. A man with dark, greasy hair and a weathered face winks at me. I look away quickly.

All at once, I see my future unfolding with perfect clarity. Another train station, another airport. Constantly looking over my shoulder while I race off to another strange city in another strange country, away from anyone I've gotten to know or care about. Always starting over, never safe. Never anywhere that feels like home.

There is no such thing as normal for me.

If I ever want to go home again, I have to stay and fight.

And possibly die.

I get on the train. The train ride takes longer than the drive out with Mick, with a number of stops along the way. About an hour out of Dublin, a pet.i.te woman takes the seat across from me. Her hair is short, cut into a stylish blonde pixie cut, with spikes on top. She wears a severe black pantsuit and never looks up from her phone as she maneuvers her bags into the seat next to her.

The woman's eyes flit from the phone screen to my silver bracelet. "That's lovely," she says in a thick Irish accent. "Thanks." I cover the charms with my palm instinctively.

She crosses her legs and smiles without opening her mouth. "Are you traveling alone?"

I flash back to a lecture Mr. Collins gave my cla.s.s back in seventh grade about not giving too much personal information to strangers. I hadn't thought much of it at the time beyond relief that he wasn't giving us the s.e.x talk, but now, it all comes back at once. Lie. "I'm meeting some friends." Mr. Collins would be proud.

"How lovely," she says again. "It's not safe for a girl like you to be traveling alone."

Gooseb.u.mps rise on my arms. I just nod. She's probably just trying to be nice. She has no way of knowing that I could wipe out this entire train with a flick of a wrist. She stares at the silver pendant at my throat. I stifle the urge to hide it too. I stare out the window, concentrating on counting the sheep on the hillside.

"It must be hard being so far from home."

My blood burns with the itch to ignite, my body reacting automatically to the fake sweetness in the woman's voice.

Focus. Reaching for air to cool my blood, I temper the heat that threatens. It's not like I can go torching every person who makes me uncomfortable. I may be deadly, but I can control this power. I have to.

But I couldn't control the fire at Mallory's party.

I couldn't even feel it.

It wasn't me. I would've been able to feel it. I know it.

Sherri Miliken is the only other bandia I know. While I wouldn't put it past her to try to take out a party full of Sons and their minions, Sherri would make d.a.m.n sure that everyone knew it was her. Besides, the Sons were looking for Sherri. She's the whole reason they let me into their fold in the first place, to find her. Someone would've seen her at the party.

When faced with multiple hypotheses, Occam's razor says that you should always start with the simplest one and try to rule it out first.