There is an unfamiliar light in her eyes—one that speaks of hidden strength and conviction—and I know that I will not deny her. That I will not be responsible for the loss of that light.
“Very well,” I say. “I welcome your power, Aunt Virginia.”
She bows her head slightly, and I recognize it as a sign of deference to my position as potential Lady of Altus. “Thank you.”
I dip my head in return, keeping quiet the prayer that rings through my mind: May the Gods, the Grigori, and the Sisters be with us.
That night, it is more difficult to let Dimitri leave my tent. I pull him toward me when he tries to sit up, pressing myself against him atop the blankets. Tucking my head under his chin, I try to push from my mind everything but his breath in my hair, his heart beating under my ear.
Though there has been no sign of the Guard, I know they’re near. I cannot tell if they are simply drawing closer or if they have actually infiltrated my consciousness, but they lurk in the shadows of my innermost thoughts.
I feel the weight of their persuasion even in my waking hours. It’s insidious, for it doesn’t come in the form of obvious coercion. Rather, I begin to feel that I have been wrong all this time. That I have tempted fate and thrown everything out of balance by fighting my destined role as Gate.
“What is it?” he asks after a moment.
“Nothing,” I lie.
His chest rises as he takes a deep breath. “I don’t believe you, but I’ll be here if you change your mind and want to speak of it.”
I hold fast to him as he begins to move. “Don’t go.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Lia. I’ll be right here.” He bends his head, touching his mouth to mine. “But you must take what sleep you can. Tomorrow we arrive in Avebury. You will need all your strength.”
I am relieved when he seems to settle deeper into the blankets, obviously not intending to move. We are both beyond worrying what anyone thinks. He pulls me closer with newfound gentleness, and I think I understand that he’s beginning to say goodbye, too.
I lie in the dark for a long time, my head resting on his chest as his breathing slowly becomes softer and more regular. He has not slept deeply since his insistence on watching over me during the night, and I don’t have the heart to wake him. I am here, in his arms. It is preferable to his being awake and alert across the tent while I try to sleep alone, and I rub my face against the soft fabric of his shirt, relishing the sensation. The rise and fall of his chest is soothing, and it is not long before my eyelids become heavy. It’s lovely, lying in the dark with Dimitri, knowing he’s close. And in the moment before I finally slip into the nothingness of sleep, I am not afraid.
Even in my dreams I am in Dimitri’s arms. In the state of half-consciousness that is the closest I come to sleep, I am grateful for the gift of his presence. His heartbeat, under my ear as I drifted into slumber in the darkness of the tent, is still there.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
It is a lullaby, and I allow myself to float through the darkness. To think of nothing but Dimitri’s arms around me, the comforting solidity of his chest under my ear. We are no longer on the hard ground beneath the tent’s canvas roof, but surrounded by scarlet silk and plush velvet cushions. I breathe a sigh of contentment as my own heartbeat amplifies, beating in time with his as a hand begins to stroke my hair.
“Yes,” he whispers. “Yes.”
His hand travels from my head to my neck, stopping at the tender divot where my pulse throbs just beneath my skin. His fingers linger there as if relishing the heat of the blood moving through my veins, then continue their journey to the curve of my shoulder, the skin of my upper arms.
I stretch my arm the length of his, our hands coming to rest palm-to-palm. We intertwine our fingers and I have never felt so content. So safe. So certain of my place.
Even when his fingers leave mine, trailing lightly across my palm until they come to rest on my wrist, I do not want to move. It is only his skin that sounds an alarm somewhere in the recesses of my mind. It is not soft and warm, as it usually is, calloused by many hours with the reins, the lead, the rifle.
It is… different.
Dry and cold.
It is only now that I notice the flutter. It is a small noise, a rustling, but when I lift my head to search for its source, my vision is blocked. In my dream, Dimitri has suddenly grown so tall that his body blocks my view. I try to push him away, to see his face, but the harder I push, the tighter he holds. A vise of panic grabs hold of my heart as I begin to understand.
The flutter grows, sounding at first like a small gathering of birds rising into the air, and then an entire flock. I give a giant push, stumbling backward as he releases his hold on my body. My eyes travel upward, past the massive, chiseled form, to his face.
Such a beautiful face. The face of a god.
But no.
It is the face of a god, but only for a moment. Only until it shimmers, warping into something vile. Something hideous. His jaws are massive, his jagged teeth glinting like a mirage in the faint memory of the beautiful man’s face.
But it is the wings that captivate me. Only hinted at the one time I saw Samael by the river in a dream, he now unfurls them with a great flutter. They spread, tall and wide, on either side of his strangely morphing form.
I cannot look away. Do not want to look away. In them lies the promise of comfort. Of release. Giving myself over to their safety is hardly a decision at all. I don’t even contemplate it. I simply step forward, sighing with relief as the silken wings enfold me.
I experience a moment of distant panic. A moment when I feel the weakening of the astral cord as the remnants of my worldly consciousness fight for purchase on the Plane. My physical form seems very far away, and I strain against the echo of knowledge that I’m being detained. Samael has me in his grip. I will not be able to return to my body, and when Dimitri awakes in the morning, my sleeping form will be an empty shell.
My struggle does not last long. The relief pledged by Samael’s silken wings, his heart still beating in time to mine, is too great for my apathetic spirit to fight. I feel another tug on the astral cord, the call of my place in the world that has always been mine.
I pull against it as I step toward the Beast. Toward the only peace I can claim as mine.
Then, I let everything go.
I do not think it possible for my sense of shame to grow. Yet, the day after Dimitri wakes me from the travel in which I was fully prepared to give myself to Samael, I feel more disgraced than ever. It doesn’t matter that the others aren’t aware of the details. I am wicked. And as we ride toward Avebury, my self-loathing rises to new heights until I begin to believe that I don’t deserve the opportunity to close the Gate at all.
All that morning, I look to Dimitri, expecting to see pity in his eyes. I brace myself, knowing I will hate it more than any amount of his judgment.
But it never comes.
His eyes, filled only with love and determination, are as clear as the azure sky above us.
It does nothing for the confusion that has permeated my soul since the moment I awoke, for while it is obvious that Dimitri is the same man he has always been, it takes most of the day to banish the memory of his familiar face turning into the terrifying countenance of the Beast.
Shortly after we break for lunch, I feel our proximity to Avebury. The knowledge begins as a slight vibration in my bones and grows to a faint hum when the somber gray stones, standing like soldiers in concentric circles, finally come into view. The mark on my wrist aches with a dull throb, and I glance down at the medallion, feeling the pull of the sacred site from the center of the Jorgumand.
We stop several times among the trees, scanning for signs that the Guard has arrived before us. All the while, the pull of my body to Avebury grows stronger. It is only through sheer force of will that I resist the urge to rush forward.
Finally we make our way toward a small house near the center
of the site.
The belly of the serpent.
And though all is quiet, I do not recognize it as the peace of impending closure, but the knowledge that this is the beginning of the end.
37
We are not quite to the front of the house when the door opens. My heart lifts when I see Gareth step onto the porch. A moment later Brigid appears behind him, wiping her hands on the apron tied around her waist. She waves vigorously, a brilliant smile breaking out across her face.
“Lia!” She is off the porch before we have come to a full stop. “I’ve been so worried!”
“I take it everything is secure?” Dimitri asks Gareth.
Gareth nods. “It’s just us. Come inside. Let us get you some food and we’ll tell you everything.”
Dimitri swings out of the saddle, toward me. I know he is keeping himself near in case I should require help, but I’m grateful he doesn’t offer. For all my weariness, I need to feel capable of managing the small things that are required to get through the day.
Dismounting, I turn my gaze back to Brigid, noting her look of alarm as she takes in my appearance. I try to stand a little straighter, to smile a little brighter, as I meet her eyes.
“Food would be lovely. And some water for washing, if you have it.”
The others dismount behind me, Edmund assisting Aunt Virginia, and Brigid leads us into the house as the men see to the horses.
The interior of the house is small and dark, but not at all unwelcoming. We make our way past a room that looks to be a parlor, and Brigid leads us toward a simple, narrow staircase at the center of the house. At the top of the stairs Aunt Virginia and I are shown to private rooms. Luisa chooses one to share with Sonia while Brigid graciously shows Helene to the room they will share. We agree to wash and change before meeting Brigid back downstairs in the small kitchen.
Half an hour later I find the keys seated around a simple, rough-hewn table as Brigid pours tea.
“Where is Aunt Virginia?” I ask, taking the seat nearest to Sonia.
“She said she wanted to rest and will see us at dinner.” Luisa’s voice is kind, and I realize that I must not be doing a very good job of hiding my worry. “She’ll be fine, Lia, you’ll see. A few hours’ rest will do her wonders.”
I nod, taking a chipped teacup from Brigid’s capable hands and sipping the hot tea to avoid answering.
“So,” Luisa takes a drink from her cup, eyeing Brigid over the rim with a sly grin. “Was it just you and Gareth, all alone in this big house?”
Brigid’s cheeks flush the palest rose as she pours tea. “It’s not that big.”
Luisa raises her eyebrows. “I don’t give a whit about this silly house, Brigid. Really! I would much rather hear how you’ve been keeping yourselves busy these past two days.”
Sonia rolls her eyes. “Luisa! Don’t be so brash.”
Luisa takes an enthusiastic bite out of one of the biscuits on the table. “Don’t pretend to be innocent. You want to know as much as I do.”
I resist the urge to laugh. Perhaps it’s better that Aunt Virginia isn’t here after all.
Brigid finally sits, busying herself with the tea towel in her lap. “We haven’t been here very long. We only arrived yesterday morning. By the time we negotiated our stay with the innkeepers and saw them packed and gone, it was evening.
“We’ve spent the time since keeping watch for the Guard and preparing for your arrival. The house doesn’t get many guests, it seems. It needed a good cleaning.”
I wonder if she is thinking about her own well-kept inn at Loughcrew, for I see a spark of pride in her eyes.
“What did you tell the innkeepers?” Helene’s voice comes softly from across the table, and I realize that I cannot remember the last time I heard her speak. I feel a moment’s pity as I realize how easily Brigid has become one of us, while Helene still holds herself on the outskirts of our alliance.
Brigid shrugs, two spots of color working their way back onto her cheeks. “Gareth told him we were newlyweds who wanted privacy. He paid them well to vacate quickly.”
Luisa’s laugh is bawdy. “I’m quite sure he did!”
Sonia smacks at her arm. “Luisa! Goodness!” She levels her gaze at Brigid, fighting a smile. “I’m very sorry, Brigid. I don’t know what comes over her sometimes.”
Brigid nods, a smile blossoming on her lips. “It was rather nice, having the house to ourselves.”
“I knew it!” Luisa practically screams. “And I demand details!”
We erupt into laughter around the table, all except for Helene, who favors us with a simple smile. But Brigid is prevented from continuing, as we hear the thud of footsteps approaching the kitchen. A moment later Gareth appears in the doorway.
“The horses are—” He breaks off, looking at our faces, turned in unison to his as we all think about him and Brigid alone together in the inn. “What?”
Brigid blushes, rising to remove the teacups and plates as the rest of us break into peals of laughter. Even Helene giggles quietly behind her hand, and for a moment I forget that this is Avebury.
I forget the humming in my veins. The whisper of the medallion on my wrist. The call of Samael.
For a moment, I almost forget that these may be the final days in which I’m in possession of my own soul.
Almost.
I am not the only one who seeks to forget, and we pass the evening in pleasant companionship as if we have agreed not to speak of the prophecy for just this night. Sonia and I help Brigid prepare a meal while Helene and Luisa play cribbage at the worn table in the kitchen. Gareth and Dimitri light a fire and hunt for wine, emerging victorious from the cellar almost an hour later, holding aloft four dusty bottles of ruby-colored liquid.
Edmund’s worry is the only reminder of our mission. He takes the rifle to make a sweep of the area at regular intervals while Aunt Virginia sits on the porch with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders against the coming chill of night.
Soon enough the table is set. The food is steaming on platters, the wine poured, and we sit, joined in our shared purpose. I watch with pleasure as Helene begins to laugh with Sonia and Luisa and Gareth favors Brigid with affection that brings a smile to her lips and a flush to her cheeks.
A deep peace settles over my heart as I watch them—these people for whom I have such love. These people who have become so dear to me. I am suddenly certain they will be all right, whatever happens to me. They will survive and be happy. They will go on, laughing and loving.
It is all I want to know. All I need to know. I feel new strength in my decision to come to Avebury without Alice, and as I look around the table I am secure in the knowledge that my sacrifice, should I be called to make it, will mean the continuation of everything good.
It is only when I glance at Dimitri that I feel a thread of doubt, for though he smiles and attempts to laugh, I see the shadows in his eyes. It’s vain to think that he won’t go on without me. That he won’t find happiness elsewhere. Yet the tight set of his jaw and the sadness in his eyes cause me great disquiet. I don’t wish to leave him alone.
Reaching out, I brush his hair away from his brow, not caring if Aunt Virginia or anyone else thinks me bold. Dimitri’s eyes meet mine, desire and love licking like fire from their depths. I know if there were anything in the world that could make me change my mind, it would be him.
I sink farther into the hot water, grateful all over again that Brigid came across the old metal tub in the back room of the house. Boiling the water pot by pot and carrying it to my small chamber was a luxury I managed to convince myself I deserved.
At this time tomorrow night we will be preparing for the Rite. Assuming, that is, that the Guard doesn’t catch up to us first. Either way, this may be my last night among the living.
I try to empty my mind. To concentrate on the slide of water against my skin, the feel of the cool metal against my back, the slight draft on my face from the colder air outside the tub. It works for only a
moment before Dimitri’s face fills the darkness in my mind. I see him as he was at dinner, his eyes overflowing with the same need that has steadily grown in my own soul, my own body. Something gentle and promising flutters in my belly at the thought of him.
“Do you wish me to leave until you’re finished?” His voice comes from the door, and I turn my head to look at him, standing against the wall inside my room, the door closed behind him. I’m not surprised to see him there. I have grown used to his stealth. His unexpected appearances.
A voice inside my head tells me I should ask him to leave. Reminds me that it is beyond improper to allow a gentleman in the room while I am naked in the bath. But that voice is so small. It is but a whisper now. It’s the voice of the Lia I was, and I will never be that Lia again.
Without giving it another thought, I rise, water dripping off my body as I stand in the tub, utterly exposed to Dimitri. His eyes darken further, turning into black pools of desire, as his gaze drops to my breasts, the flat of my stomach, my thighs.
I hold out a hand, oddly unembarrassed. “Would you get that blanket there, please?”
It takes him a moment to follow my arm to the blanket lying across the end of the bed, but finally he retrieves it. Stepping toward me, he holds it out from a distance, as if not trusting himself to get too close.
“Open it, please.”
Surprise shades his eyes, but he opens the blanket wide, waiting as I step from the tub, still wet, and walk toward him. His arms close around me, the blanket soft and warm as it drapes over my skin. We stand, unmoving, for a moment. It is impossible not to think about the fact that Dimitri’s muscled arms are separated from my naked skin only by the thin material of an old blanket.
“Will you help me dry off?” I ask into his shoulder.