Page 56

Heading Home

I t looks like I’ve rendered him speechless.

Khaosti is staring at me as though I’ve grown horns and a tail. I actually glance over my shoulder at my ass just in case. But no tail. I suppose I should be glad he’s not running away screaming.

Can our fledgling relationship survive the revelation?

I hope so.

“Say something,” I mutter.

He swallows. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Join the club.” I study his face but can’t work out what he’s thinking. “Do you hate me? Do you think I’m evil?”

He considers the question, but then the tension leaves his body, and he smiles. “You can’t help who your father is any more than I can. And I would never believe you to be evil.”

At his words, the tension leaves me as well. Without it, I’m a soggy mess. The adrenaline was the only thing keeping me upright, and now it seeps from my blood, leaving me shaky and weak. And hurting. And hungry.

I look around for somewhere to sit and stumble toward the shade of a huge tree—sufficiently far away from the dead bodies that I can ignore them—and collapse to the ground. Khaosti follows me, then stands staring down at me with a frown on his face.

God, it’s good to see him. “I thought I would never see you again.”

“And was that a bad thing or a good thing?”

“Don’t joke.” I shudder. “It was horrible. And I felt so powerless. I hate that.”

“How did you remember?”

“I think I gave up trying. Or maybe I gave up worrying. Hecate was right—I was scared of what I might remember. And it turns out, I had good reason. I’m Lucifer’s daughter. How did that even happen?” I’m hoping Hecate will be able to fill in the blanks. “But I decided it didn’t matter. I’m good. I know that deep down.” I place my hand on my heart. “In here. And once I accepted that—I remembered.”

I rub at my forehead, and his frown deepens. “Are you okay?”

“Mostly, I’m just tired.”

Khaosti hunkers down beside me. “Let me take a look.” He reaches out toward my throat. I’d forgotten about the wound and the bandage, which is good—presumably, it’s healed. Khaosti slowly unravels it, peeling it away from my skin, and whistles under his breath.

“Shadowguard?” he asks.

“Who else?”

“Bite?”

“No teeth. Just claws.”

“Good.” He strokes a finger down my throat. “The wound looks clean. No swelling. You’ve probably got some immunity to the poison after last time.”

“Lucky me.”

“It looks like it’s healing well. What other damage?”

“Nothing bad. My ribs are a little bruised.” I wave a hand over to where Trystan’s body is sprawled in the long grass. “The asshole kicked me.”

Khaosti hisses. “I wish I could kill him again.”

“Me too.” I frown. “What did Trystan mean?” I ask. “Those last words?”

“I have no clue. And I don’t fucking care. He was likely just trying to make trouble. But he’s gone.”

I close my eyes and settle back against the tree trunk. I’m alive, and I really didn’t expect that. Khaosti’s with me, and I didn’t expect that either.

He drops to the ground beside me. Nudging me over a little, he leans back against the trunk of the tree and then moves me so I’m sitting between his outstretched thighs. His arms come around me. “Backup is on the way,” he says. “All we need to do is wait.”

I rest my head against his chest and listen to his heart. I could stay like this forever, but there are things I want to know. “Tell me what happened.”

He’s silent for a moment, then he starts speaking. “When the wards went down, the shadowguard flooded in. Hecate got everybody to safety—apparently, they’ve prepared for such an attack—and Thanouq and I went to meet them. I don’t think they were expecting Thanouq.”

“No. I bet he was a nice surprise.”

“Not for them. Anyway, we killed all those inside the wards. But it took time, and it wasn’t until afterward that I realized you weren’t there. I thought you’d gone to Hecate earlier and were safe. When I found out you weren’t…” Something in his voice makes me realize just how panicked he’d been at that point. Real terror.

“You panicked,” I say.

“Hell, yes, I fucking panicked. And Trystan was also gone. I never thought he would turn on me that way.”

“I think he hated being a servant. That he’s always been jealous of you. He wanted what you have, and it festered.” I sigh. “He sold his soul to Lucifer.” My dad. I have to keep reminding myself of that—though really, it’s hard to forget. I glance again at Trystan’s body and feel no regret. “I’m glad he’s dead.”

Khaosti shakes his head. “I never thought he was so bitter. He hid it well.”

I snort. “I never liked him. Apparently, my father promised him your father’s job in exchange for getting the location of Lucifer’s Mirror. He was going to torture me.”

“Bastard.”

“Yeah.”

“Anyway,” Khaosti continues, “as soon as I realized you were both missing, I shifted and followed the trail. Thanouq stayed behind in case there was another attack. Thank God I found you in time. It was so close. When I saw you surrounded but still fighting…”

He wraps his arms tighter around me and pulls me against his chest.

I’m tired, but I don’t sleep. I don’t want to miss a moment of this, just in case everything goes to crap again. So I just lie there, listening to the beat of his heart.

I’m guessing it’s a couple of hours later when the sound of hoofbeats pulls me from my stupor. I could have stayed like this forever, but there’s someone approaching. I blink open my eyes as Khaosti’s body tenses behind me. He gently moves me away from him and silently gets to his feet.

I already miss him.

He draws his sword and stands in front of me as if guarding me. It’s kind of sweet. But I don’t feel any encroaching danger. My head is clear for once.

Eric appears, riding Hecate’s gray mare and leading Stella and Mayhem. Stella nickers when she sees me, then breaks into a trot and comes straight to me, dropping her head and breathing me in.

Khaosti crosses to the other horses and speaks briefly with Erik. Then he rummages in one of the saddlebags and brings me bread, cheese, apples, and a bottle of wine. I’m not sure the wine is a good idea, but Stella will look after me. I eat and drink and feel the energy flooding into me.

I have so much to think about, but I want to talk to Hecate first. She still knows more than I do. There are gaps in my memories.

Finally, I finish my makeshift meal and pull myself to my feet, taking stock. I’m good. Well, I’ll live anyway. I head toward Stella, but Khaosti stops me with a hand on my arm.

“Ride with me,” he says.

I don’t need to, but I do want to, so I nod. He lifts me onto the saddle and then climbs behind me. His arm wraps around my waist and pulls me back against his hard body. I feel safe and secure, and then we are moving. I glance back to make sure Stella is staying with us, but of course she is. She’s bringing up the rear.

We keep to a walk, and the movement lulls me to sleep. It’s still dark when I wake up, and we stop for food and drink, but then head out again. I think Khaosti wants to get me safe behind the wards, and the horses are sure-footed in the dark. This time I don’t sleep, and thoughts of the past fill my mind—a past I’d forgotten until now. Some of it is good, a lot of it is bad.

There’s something I want to share with Khaosti. “I remember Khendril,” I murmur. I had been trying not to think about it too much as the memory hurts.

“You do? And are they good memories?”

“Mostly. I loved him. He was the closest thing to a father I’ve ever known.” We’re both silent for a few minutes while we take that in, but then I continue. “He used to talk about you, his baby brother, how brave and good you were, how you were his hope for the future.”

“Huh,” Khaosti says, “some hope.”

“You will be. Khendril was the wisest person I ever knew, and he taught me everything—how to fight, how to be a good person. I’m sorry he died.”

“Me too,” Khaosti replies, “but at least he died doing something he believed in.”

Yeah, saving me.

We fall silent again. Khendril was a good memory—until the end—but I lost so many decent men who died for me. That makes me sad, but it also makes me want to justify their deaths, to repay them for everything they gave up for me. Somehow I’ll make that happen, except I’m scared. And I still don’t really know how I’ll make things better.

It’s late by the time we reach the stone bridge that marks the edge of the wards. Hecate is waiting for us on the other side, and I cross the bridge, slide off the horse, and into her arms.

Finally, I step back and search her face, looking for similarities between us and finding them in the shape of her bones and the slant of her eyes.

She’s not my mother. I realize that I’d secretly been hoping that was the case, but it’s not. Hecate is my aunt. My mother was her baby sister, who obviously decided that Hell was not a good environment to bring up a baby and dumped me on her sister.

Hecate is staring back at me, searching my face. “You remember?” she says.

I nod. “Yes. Well, most of what I knew before.” There’s still a whole lot I don’t know.

She smiles, and I can see the satisfaction in her eyes. “I knew you wouldn’t let us down.”

I snort. “There’s still time for that.”

I want to ask her about my mother, but I’m a little scared. What would make any woman have the devil’s child? Had she loved him? Had he—and I hate this idea—forced her? Maybe it’s a conversation for when we’re alone. I glance around. Erik is seated on the bridge out of earshot, but Khaosti is close by.

I search my mind and realize that while I love him, I still don’t entirely trust him. He has other loyalties. What had Trystan been going to say before he died? And Khendril told me that even as a small boy, Khaosti had been taught to do his duty. It was ingrained. Besides, Khronus is his father. There has to be some love between them.

But there is one thing I need to know. “Is she alive?” I ask.

Hecate knows who I mean, and sadness flashes across her face. “No. Ravenna—your mother—used the last of her strength to send you to me. She knew the spell would finish her. And she’s never been seen or heard from since.”

An echo of her sadness washes through me, sadness for a woman I have no memory of. But she clearly cared for me. She gave up her life for me—like so many others.

The thought is like a weight pressing me down. “But it hasn’t been that long. Only nineteen years. Maybe she’s been hiding out, waiting until it’s safe to reveal herself.”

Hecate gives me a look of regret. “It hasn’t been nineteen years for her, Amber. It’s been over five thousand.”

“What?” I take a step back as shock punches me in the belly. Then I collapse onto the stone wall of the bridge. “I don’t understand.”

“Your mother was the most powerful mirror-mage since Selene herself. To send you to me, she created a portal not only through space but through time.”

“That’s not possible,” Khaosti mutters from beside me.

Hecate casts him a look of scorn. “Another thing your father has wiped from our history. But you’re right in a way—it’s not possible anymore. There’s no witch powerful enough to perform the magic, unless…” She gives me a curious look and then continues, “Your mother was the last, and she sent you forward in time to me.” She stares up at the sky for a minute. “At that point, I’d presumed she’d been dead for millennia. She was my younger sister, only thirty-five when she disappeared. I never heard from her again. And as the years turned to centuries, I gave up hope. Now I know that she created the mirror to bring you to me. Maybe she hoped that the years would help to hide you. She wasn’t strong enough to come through herself—I saw just a shadow of her beyond the mirror. She told me what I needed to know, and that you must always keep the amulet close to you”—my hand goes to the pendant at my throat—"to remind you of her. And then the image faded and was gone. And there you were. A baby.”

“I wish I’d known her. I wish I could remember something.”

“You were no more than a few days old.” She gives a sad smile, and, in her ancient eyes, I see an echo of the Crone she was when we first met. “One day I’ll tell you her story. When we have time to let ourselves wallow in the past.”

There is one more thing I want to know right now. “You once told me that you knew my father. How?”

“I grew up with him.” She looks away for a moment. “Lucifer is Astrali.”

I hear Khaosti’s indrawn breath.

“He was a good man,” Hecate says fiercely. “And he loved your mother almost beyond reason. But something happened—I don’t know what, I was away at the time.” A shudder runs through her. “But your parents were both good people; never doubt that.” She falls silent for a minute, then asks, “Do you have the location of the mirror?” I can hear the urgency in her voice.

“Of course. But first—why is it so important? What does the mirror do?” Because that wasn’t in my memories. Maybe they kept it from me for some reason—I remember pestering Khendril for the answers—to no avail. Maybe he didn’t know. Or if he did, he thought that if I knew what was ahead of me, I would run away screaming. Not a comforting thought.

“Lucifer’s Mirror is the only remaining portal that leads to Hell,” Hecate tells me. “And Lucifer has been trapped there since it was taken from him.”

“For five thousand years?” Khaosti says from behind me.

“Yes, Ravenna hid it at the same time she sent you here.”

“Then why not leave it hidden?” Khaosti asks. “Leave him locked up there for eternity?”

“Because nothing lasts forever,” Hecate replies. She looks at me. “Lucifer is getting stronger. He won’t stop until he finds you—and he will find you. He’s tied to you by blood, and he can sense you through the shadowguard who hunt you. We have to stay one step ahead of him.”

I remember what she said about finding the mirror being only the first step and not the last. And I know this is just the beginning. My freaking destiny.

“And what happens once we have the mirror?” I ask, though I suspect I don’t really want to know the answer.

“Then you go to Hell and face your father.”

My father: Lucifer. Good old Dad. “Why?”

“Because it’s what you were born to do.”