A Matter of Heart (5 page)

I can only imagine the look
Jonah is giving Karl right now.

“I’ve tried to call him a
number of times,” Karl continues, “but I only ever get voicemail. And Callie is
no help—”

Whoa, now. Say what?

“Since she’s ignoring my
calls, too. The only time anyone hears from him is during the allotted weekly
check-ins. Just where in the hell are they? Truth is, I’m worried about him.”

“Don’t be. He’s fine. They
both are.”

Wait . . . is Jonah
admitting he’s been talking to Callie? The light bulb in a nearby lamp pops;
tiny bits of thin glass rain down against my dresser. I force myself to take a
couple of deep breaths before zapping the pieces to oblivion.

It’s downright humiliating
how my powers are wonky when my emotions are overwhelmed.

Calm down, will you? It’s
not like she’s here, attempting another seduction,
Caleb
murmurs in my mind. He’s inappropriately amused.

No,
she’s not. But she’s also not just some girl off the street, either. She and
Jonah have history—meaningful, lengthy history. She’s known him almost as long
as I have. And whether I like it or not, they’ll always have a tie, because
they both call the same woman mother, and he is her first love.

Over the next day or so, I
think about Callie Lotus a lot. I do that sometimes, even when I don’t want to.
I’ll be out and about, and a flash of silvery hair will catch my eye, and my
stomach will drop because I can’t help but think it’s her.

It would be so great,
though, if I could just assign her a VILLAIN label, or at least SKANK or BITCH,
and then just file her away; but, like so many other things in my life, she and
those labels aren’t as cut and dry as they should be. Because Callie isn’t a
villain, nor is she a skank. And, if I’m really being honest, she isn’t a bitch,
either. She’s . . . complex. Painfully human (er, half Human, half Elf). A
non-Magical who is constantly surrounded by people who have abilities that’ll
always overstretch her own. She’s just as much a victim of Fate as the rest of
us.

And Callie’s crimes are
really not crimes at all. She fell in love with a great guy; they dated for
years after knowing each other much of their lives. He initially broke up with
her without much of an explanation, and she struggles with the feelings she
still has towards him. When she and Jonah kissed last year, it wasn’t like she
was purposely trying to hurt me, as bizarre as that sounds. Yeah, it was wrong
of her (and him—believe me, he shares equal culpability for that crummy
decision), but an astounding thing happened: she admitted it was wrong. She
sucked up her pride and came and found me to tell me that if I didn’t give
Jonah another chance, I’d be a fool. And the more I think about what she did,
the more amazed I am by it, because I don’t know if I could have ever been so
generous to do so. I mean, it’s not like she should get a Nobel Peace Prize or
anything. But in the end, she thought of somebody else before herself.

Can I claim the same? It
feels like so much of what has gone on between me and Jonah and Kellan has been
centered around my selfishness.

And it’s selfish of me when
I snatch Jonah’s cell phone while he’s in the shower and find a number to dial
on mine that I never thought I would, all because I need to know where Kellan
is.

I call Jonah’s ex-girlfriend.

Calm, Chloe,
I
order myself as the phone rings.
Act cool
. And that’s a joke, because my
heart is hammering hard in my chest. This girl loves him. If there were no me,
Jonah and Callie would still be together.

When she answers, I hold my
breath.

“What can I do for you,
Chloe?” says a voice better suited to some sexpot than an eighteen-year-old
girl.

We haven’t spoken since the
day she cornered me like a fox in a bush to set me straight about her
relationship with Jonah, making this beyond awkward. “How are you?”

She laughs; it’s so sultry
and alluring that a sharp shard of jealousy finds my gut. Three years. Jonah
spent three years dating and doing who knows what else with this girl who could
give any supermodel a run for her money. I bet anything that he didn’t promise
HER mom they wouldn’t have—no. Mustn’t think that, lest I go batshit insane.
“Let’s cut past the obligatory social niceties, why don’t we?” she’s saying.
“You’re obviously calling about Kellan. What would you like to know?”

Did I say awkward? I meant
excruciating. Thank gods I thought this conversation out before dialing her
number. OH WAIT. That’s right. I
didn’t
. I cough, scrambling for the
appropriate thing to say. I don’t want to come off as . . . clingy, I guess. Or
motherly. Or anything other than politely interested in my fiancé’s brother’s
whereabouts. So, as maturely and put together as I can, I blurt out, “Tell me
where he is.”

And then immediately throw
my face into a hand.

Smooth, Chloe
.

“Australia.” She’s amused,
but has the grace not to laugh outright at me. “Let me guess. The Guard’s on
Jonah’s ass about Kellan, correct?”

She’s so direct it unnerves
me. “Sort of.”

“I’m sure J is handling it.
Question is, why are you calling me to find out where Kellan is and not asking
his brother?” There is a sadness that permeates her words, and even though I’m
glad Jonah and I worked out what happened, I can’t help but feel a teeny bit of
pity for Callie.

And yet, my defenses go up.
I don’t have to explain anything to her, not where it concerns either of my
Connections. “Is he okay?”

“Again, why aren’t you
asking J?”

“I’m asking you.”

“Does he know you’re calling
me?”

ARRGGHHH. What’s with her?
“Is Kellan there? May I talk to him?”

“No. He’s out right now.”

It grates on my nerves to
have this confirmation that they’re together. I try not to actually surmise
anything other than it being two heartbroken friends banding together, because
I don’t think I can deal with imagining anything else. I repeat, “Is he okay?”

“Look.” The amusement is
gone; she’s all business. “I know you’ve got to be worried. But I happen to
know he’s asked for space, and you calling and checking up on him doesn’t fit
in that definition.”

Appalled and, frankly,
pissed off, I start to set her straight, but she cuts me off. “Believe it or
not, I don’t want to argue with you. I’m just saying, you made your choice.
He’s made his. Can’t you respect his like he’s respecting yours?”

I nearly crush the phone, my
grip is so tight.

“He’ll be back in Annar soon
enough,” she adds, as if my sharp hiss of breath wasn’t audible. But at least
now, her voice has softened some.

There isn’t much more to
say, so we exchange a clumsy set of goodbyes before hanging up.

That went well,
Caleb muses.

Did we hear the same
conversation?

Callie has every reason to
hate you, but she answered the phone and told you where he is. She hasn’t done
that for anybody else, not even Karl.

It’s enough to draw pause.
Why would she do that?

Why indeed?

Portal #1487LF

Elvin / Ysendria / Maarkkesh
/ Uloinion Forest

20.2061˚ N /
11.6328˚ E

I lean back in my chair and
sift through the folder in front of me. There are a couple of maps of the Elvin
plane, coordinates, and a one-page overview of the mission. This’ll make the
third portal I’ve been tasked with in a month. Ever since the atoll mission,
the Council has given me nothing but easy assignments. Zthane Nightstorm, who
is sitting next to me, leans over and taps a location on the map. “Pretty
remote. Middle of a forest. You’ll have to hike to it.”

Yuck. The last two locations
were at least within driving distance. Even still, I ask hopefully, “Some
driving, though?”

“Nope.” He gives me a grin
that’s filled with extraordinarily white, straight teeth. Zthane is a Goblin,
but more often than not, I imagine him as a green Julius Caesar. He’s tall,
with closely cropped peppered hair that looks Roman-ish, plus he’s got this
straight nose that looks like it ought to be on a marble bust. He’s pretty
good-looking and radiates some serious influence and power, especially since he’s
something like the equivalent of a General in the Guard. “What do you know
about Elvin forests, Chloe?”

“Not much,” I admit. “I’m
assuming they’re a lot like the forests on my plane.” Aren’t they?

“They’re similar in that
there are trees, but Elvin forests are a lot drier than those on the rest of
the planes. They’re more like deserts than traditional forests with sandy dirt
that only specialized plants grow in. There’s water around, but usually deep
underground. The trees that you’ll be seeing excel at surviving in drought-like
conditions with deep root systems.”

He slides over an aerial
photo. Everything is green, green, green. I give him an incredulous look. “This
is a desert?”

“Weird, right? But yes, it
is. It’ll be arid when you go. The trees provide a lot of shade, which is a
good thing, because out in those forests, you can get heatstroke and sunburnt
in the blink of an eye.”

I can’t help but wonder if
Zthane’s ever had a sunburn. His skin is a creamy matte-pea green that’s
surprisingly attractive. Not that I would say that to him, because Zthane
Nightstorm isn’t the sort of guy who’d be flattered by somebody telling him
he’s good-looking. He’s such a by the book, military-style guy who cares more
about orders than looks. It’s part of why he and Karl are best friends.

Speaking of, Karl comes in
and sits down across from us. He slaps a folder against the table and shoves it
toward Zthane. As Zthane peruses it, my former personal Guard tells me, “That
there is a list of the Guard going with you.”

I glance at the folder. I
learned early on that there’d always be a Guard team with me on missions;
apparently, I’m too fragile or “valuable” to actually send out on my own. Jonah
assures me he normally has a team with him, too, but he gets one, two people,
tops. I’m sent with five. “Anybody I know?”

Karl taps a finger against
his lips. “Does Kellan count?”

The conference room suddenly
feels too small, even though there are only three of us sitting at a table that
could hold twenty. I force my face to stay passive.

Zthane pulls a sheet of
paper from the folder. “Excellent. He’s already complaining about not being
sent out enough since coming back. This’ll give us at least a few days’ worth
of complacency, no?”

Does Jonah know he’s back?
Why didn’t
I
know? I shoot Karl a look that translates to:
You didn’t
tell me?

“You know Kellan,” Karl
says, carefully avoiding my unspoken question. “Dude’s never okay with sitting
on his thumbs, not when he can be out working.”

Zthane scribbles a few
notes, signs his name, and slips the paper back into the folder. Then, with
bemused annoyance, “I wish he’d stay put for a spell. I’ve missed him.”

Zthane is Kellan’s mentor,
even though Zthane is only in his early thirties. I’ve been told that while the
Goblin can be a hard-ass with others, he’s got a soft spot for Jonah’s twin.
Apparently, nobody ever warned the Guard that blatant favoritism is a bad
thing.

I wait until Zthane is gone
before pouncing on Karl. “He’s back? Since when?”

An eyebrow quirks up at the
same time as Karl folds his arms across one another. “A couple of weeks now.”

Kellan has been here, in
Annar, for a couple of weeks, and nobody thought to tell me? I am irrationally
angry with everyone I know. “Does he know he’s going on this mission with me?”
Before Karl can answer, I add, “You know he’s not talking to me, right?”

“I know,” Karl says. His
patience with me is legendary. “And yes, he knows.”

“He’s okay with the
assignment?” I’m foolishly hopeful, which is stupid.

“He had orders, Chloe. It
wasn’t like he could say no.”