Secrets [5] Echoes: Part One (52 page)

“That’s not what I’m saying.” He laid the spoon on the edge of the pot and turned the flame down. “I guess I’m asking if … if She can be
wrong
.”

The true subject matter flared between us like a bright white light. I found myself looking toward the Mark under his shirt again, and he felt it—felt my eyes there, shifting his feet awkwardly as if that’d dislodge my direct gaze.

I opened my mouth to ask him why it was, exactly, that Lilith Marked him—if he knew, and if he was wondering if she was wrong to do so, but he spoke first.

“I’ve made it a point in life, Ara, not to talk about what I feel.”

I waited for him to elaborate but, again, he didn’t. “And?”

“And … that hurt.” He sighed so heavily that the low flame beneath the pot flickered. “You falling for Jason.”

“I know.”

“I … I never
blamed
you, though.”

“What do you mean?”

He doused the flame completely and walked away to grab the sugar canister and small bag from the spice rack in the corner. “I once told you I would never hate you for what you wanted with all your heart, Ara. And that is still true. No one in this entire world, not human or immortal, can control what they feel.”

“But they can control their actions,” I added.

He smiled down at the spices as he placed them on the bench. “That’s just it, though.”

“What is?”

“I hated you for sleeping with him. And when I say hated, I mean
hated
you—” He sprinkled some cinnamon into the milk. “But after the ball, after we spoke on the stairs that night, you gave me a lot to think about.”

“I did?”

“Ara, I didn't know you slept with him to save me.” He turned around, stood for a moment as our eyes locked, then broke the stare to pour some milk into a mug, bringing the creamy flavour of sweet and dry spices alive as the steam wafted past him to me. “I know you said you fell for him—that by … by sleeping with him you were forced to accept the feelings you had but…”

I watched the mugs, watched his long fingers curl around the handles but stay there for a second, not moving.

“Is there a but?” I prompted.

“Yes.” He came over then and placed a mug in front of me—the one with the curled lip. “Your heart, both of your hearts, were in the right place. I understand why you did what you did, and the fact that it wasn’t some seedy, torrid affair—you playing footsies under the table and sneaking off for a romp under the sheets, well … that took a lot of the sting out of it.”

I was afraid to move in case I bumped some part of my body, felt no pain and realised this was a dream.

“It wasn't an act of love for him, was it?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“It was…” he started suggestively.

“Love for you,” I finished for him when I realised he clearly couldn't.

“And that’s what you meant earlier when you said cheating was a sacrifice?”

I nodded.

His shoulders dropped. “If I could go back, Ara, and talk to you about the dagger and my supposedly imminent death—” He sat down, barely pulling the chair out as he did, “—let you fight for me, even if it’d do no good, you would never have slept with him, would you?”

I shook my head. “But I’m glad I did.”

“I know.” He got up from his chair and left his cup behind, using the dirty saucepan, clearly, as an emotional escape.

“No.” I stood up and followed him to the sink. “It’s not like you think, David. Before I … before all that, I denied feeling
anything
for him. At all. It was just a time bomb waiting to go off. That denial only strengthened what was probably very mild feelings for him in the beginning.”

David just closed his eyes, exhaling.

“I know it sounds so wrong to say but … I think I needed to get it out of my system,” I continued. “Get
him
out of my system.”

“I know.” He turned on the faucet.

“You do?” I tensed, waiting for the sarcastic response I expected.

“Ever since the kidnapping and the castle, I’ve known.”

“Known what?” I flicked the lever and the water stopped flowing.

David backed away and sat up on the counter with a little leap, motioning for his cup.

I grabbed it off the table and handed it to him, my heart in my throat with the anticipation of what his answer might be.

“When he confessed about the Spirit Bind,” he finally said, “I knew you would always have a connection, as you will with Mike—”

“And you with Emily.”

He nodded, sipping his milk. “Despite immortality, the deeper effects of a Spirit Bind
are
eternal.”

“So you're justifying what I did with—”

“No. Never. But, after giving it some thought, I understood why you had such strong feelings for him and, knowing you like I do, I
should
have been watching for signs that those feelings were evolving—” He winced, coughing out a little, then he sat back, taking a few deep breaths. “Confusing you.”

“David.” My hand went for his thigh, but I drew it away at the last second. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He sipped his milk again and flashed me a reassuring smile. “Milk just went down the wrong way.”

“That looked more like you were in pai—”

“So, you’re fated to each other, huh?” he cut me right off, his eyes, voice, even body language making no apologies.

“Who?”

“You and Jason.”

I sat back down and slowly took my warm, sugary-scented mug between two palms. “How did you find out?”

“I have my ways.” I felt his eyes on me for ages before he added, “You don’t seem too happy to be fated to him.”

My head was about to shake in a no, but I stopped it. “I’m told you’re both my soul mate—that you were one soul, split in two, and I was supposed to end up with only one of you.”

“And now Lilith reveals that it’s Jason?”

“According to her, yes. But I don’t know why.”

“Why else, Ara—if not because you’re perfect for each other?” he snapped.

“No, you and I—”

“We were
contracted
to be together—to have a child. Contracted by vampires. Fate had nothing to do with that.”

“Fate had everything to do with it.”

“No, Drake did. He
saw to it
that we met. But circumstances outside of anyone’s power put you and Jason in the same space.”

“Actually, that was my dad.
He
ensured that we met.”

He put the cup down beside him, nodding a few times. “But it’s just as well anyway, Ara. You’ll come to love him eventually.”

“Who?”

“My brother.”

“I already told you. I don’t want him, David. I still love yo—”

“It doesn’t matter. Don’t you get it?” he said, lowering his voice on the end when he realised he was yelling. “You are fated to each other. No matter what you
think
you feel for me, we won’t ever be together again.”

I tapped the curve of my mug with my pinky nail for a moment, trying hard to believe that any of that really mattered to him. But I knew him better than he realised—knew my David would never let a stupid thing like Fate get in the way of what he wanted. And I believed with all my heart that he still wanted me—even if it was deep down inside. “David?”

“Mm?” he said, prompting me mostly with his brows, his lips against his mug.

“I’m going out to the Stone at dawn tomorrow. Will you come with me?”

“Why?”

“I just wanted to show you something.”

“Ara, I know you walk out there naked. If you think stripping off in front of me will—”

“No, nothing like that.” I waved my hands around, horrified. Well, horrified that I’d never thought of that.

“Then what?”

“It’s just something cool I can do with my powers.” Like hopefully free him of his hex. Not that I could say that aloud in case Morg was, indeed, watching and did something to stop him going with me.

“Ara.” His eyes darkened. “I know what you’re trying to do. It won’t work.”

“What am I trying to do?”

“You’ve shown no interest in sharing your powers with me before—ever. Why now?”

“I—” What could I say to that? “Really?”

“Really, what?”

“You’ve been feeling left out?”

He shuffled back on the counter awkwardly.

I watched him for a second, frowning to myself, going back over our past. And he was right. I worked with Jason and Mike and Falcon a lot, and always ran to them when I discovered something new. I hardly ever even
told
David when new powers surfaced. But it was because my powers needed research and training. David wasn't really right for that role. “I’m so sorry. I didn't even realise.”

“No. Why would you?” He placed his cup down again and leapt off the counter. “I’m going to bed.”

“Wait.” I got up out of my seat and stood in his path, knowing too well that this conversation was opening emotional doors he wanted to slam shut. “Will you come with me then? Tomorrow? Because I’d really like to show you.”

“No.” He went to shove past me. I blocked his path. “Get out of my way.”

“Make me.”

“Fine.” He grabbed both my arms in a bold grip and shoved me aside, turning back once he passed. “Don’t test my limits, girl, because you won’t like the boundaries.”

“Is that a threat?” I laughed.

His aimed his finger at me, keeping that ultimately serious façade firmly in place. “Just leave me alone, Ara.”

So I did. I stayed behind to clean up our mess, but only because I stayed also with the satisfaction that filled the room in knowing I was right. My David was still in there, and somewhere underneath his hatred for me and for what I did with Jason, he did still love me. Maybe he’d never forgive me, and maybe he’d never want me back, but if he could be hurt by being left out of everything exciting in my life, it only meant that it mattered to him. And that meant I had every reason to hope that maybe all this back-and-forth behaviour of his really was just a hex, not total and deep-seated hatred.

Only problem now was trying to figure out a way to get him to the forest so I could test the theory—see if Nice David returned within the boundaries that protected us from witchcraft. And another problem was leading him there without actually saying it aloud. But Mike had offered to help, so I’d just have to wait until we devised a plan. Only, the third problem was that I didn't
want
to wait. I wanted to fix David now and just have one breath, one moment where the boy I fell in love with at school didn’t look at me like he never loved me back.

***

The stillness of predawn thinned the air, showing the autumn, without its warmth and beauty, as the cold, sad season it truly was. The great staircase in the entrance seemed lonelier at this hour, as if there was more space to breathe than the daytime offered, with all its hustle and bustle and the constant chatter of voices and beating of hearts. I could still hear the faint pulse and flow of the life within these walls, but the closed doors and sleeping minds meant that none of them wanted or needed interaction with me, they just … existed, leaving room for thought and reflection. I could look around this manor and, after finally being here long enough, find memories in almost every inch and behind every object: on the staircase, Morgaine glided toward the first floor, so excited to show me the manor for the first time; by the entrance to the Great Hall, Blade stood with a beaming smile and a pile of papers, all set to release Jason from the cells; and the white front doors offered me a flash of Eric’s smile on the day he left, opening another doorway to a future where Jason would follow and I’d be saying goodbye to him. Maybe for good. But definitely for the best.

As my gaze lingered there, watching the past and the future waver intermittently, I could still see myself, so young and so naïve, stepping through it for the first time and looking up at the stained glass dome above me, wondering what my future would hold—fearing what it would hold. The smell of bacon and the buzzing excitement of imminent change from that day was so fresh in my mind that, when I closed my eyes, I could still hear the staff chatting and laughing distantly.

But when I opened them and slipped back into the present, another sound—one I couldn’t possibly be hearing from memory—echoed off the emptiness around me. I held incredibly still and listened, quieting my breath and, there, underneath the ever-constant ring in my ears and the pattering of my heart, was the softest, sweetest melody, lilting out innocuously from the Great Hall.

Whoever was playing the piano in there meant not to wake anyone and most certainly not to have an audience. But my inner musician just had to know who on earth was playing a Keith Urban song at this hour?

I tipped my ear toward the doors in the hopes that the style of the pianist might give some clue as to who it was. It certainly wasn’t Jason. He’d play something a bit happier, I was sure.