The Alignment (32 page)

“Where’s Mamó?” I ask.

“She goes for a walk every morning to eat at a café down the street with a friend.”

I help her serve the food and pour the coffee. When we’re both seated, Tara sets a small carved wooden box next to my plate.

“This is yours.” She looks at me like I’ve been handed a microphone.

“I’ve never seen that.” I dig into my food.

“Of course you haven’t. But it belongs to you, along with another story.”

I stop chewing and look at her. I’m not in the mood for the disclosure of any more lies. After our conversation last night, I thought she’d told me everything. Knowing she kept something from me to reveal on a new day pisses me off.

“Don’t look at me like that. This is a good thing.”

“I’m getting sick of having things dropped on me.” I catch Tara share a glance with Liv just before I stab another egg.

She reaches across the table and grasps my forearm. “Stop being an ass and listen. These have been handed down, father to child, for centuries. Engraved over and over with names of wives and daughters. Our father would’ve wanted you to have them. It wasn’t possible to give them to you until now.”

I take the box and open it. Inside, wrapped in a blue velvet cloth, are two silver rings engraved with what appears to be a complex design. Looking closer, I see the design is made up of many names.

“You’re named Fearghus after him. Did you know that?”

“No.” A memory pops into my thoughts. “I’ve seen these before.”

“There’s no way. I’ve had them the whole time. Look,” she says, taking them from me. “There’s my name, and there’s Máthair’s. She had my name added when we were born.”

I look and see both names. They appear as part of the design until you focus more closely, then they become letters etched by a tiny tool. “I’ve seen them before. I saw these when I was in Liv’s mind. We did a mind sharing effect, and when I first entered her mind I was wearing them.”

“You saw them when you were in
her
mind? Impossible. Maybe if you were in
your
mind. It could be some kind of family consciousness. Were you in control?” She hands the rings back to me.

“Not when I saw them.”

We both look at Liv, who shrugs and says, “I have no idea what either of you are talking about.”

“Have you seen these before?” I hold them out to her in my palm.

She picks one up to examine it closely. “Beautiful. But no, I’ve never seen anything like this. Ever.” She hands it back.

“Do they fit?” Tara leans forward, like the evidence of them fitting me is something she’s waited a lifetime for. In this simple motion I see something new in her I didn’t see before—a person who only speaks the truth. Someone I can trust. If I doubted it before, if it seemed like a novelty, it has now become solid: this woman is my sister.

They both only fit on my middle fingers, just like I wore them in Liv’s mind. The third finger must relate to the rule of three. My mother taught me the importance of this number like it was some secret code. It can’t be too secret, though. The Moores believe in it too. I was raised by two opposing forces and I’ll never be able to divide one’s teachings from the other.

“Did you tell her what you are?” Tara looks from me to Liv.

I exhale. “Are you always like this?”

Tara directs her question to Liv. “Did he?”

Liv presses her lips together and looks at me. “He told me some things.”

“
Máistir na nDúl
?”

Liv hesitantly shakes her head. I go back to eating.

“Master of the Elements?” Tara translates for Liv.

I feel Liv’s eyes on me, but she doesn’t answer.

“That’s what he is. He has a lot of abilities he refuses to use. Don’t be freaked out if for some reason he decides to use them.”

I’m already glaring at Tara when she looks at me.

“Don’t hide things from her. It’s not healthy. She needs to know everything.”

“Máthair.” I say. “Did you contact her?”

“Yes. And you can relax. No fatalities.”

“Injuries?”

“A few. Nothing to worry about. But you did manage to graze Kate.” She chuckles. “I know it’s awful to laugh. How the hell did you manage that?” She gives up trying to be good and laughs, leaning back in her chair.

“Don’t look at me, I wasn’t exactly conscious,” Liv says to me, fighting her smile and losing.

“I wish I could take the credit for that, but I can’t.” I didn’t even aim. But that’s her fate catching up to her. And my subconscious, getting its say in the matter. Although it would have made more of a point to have unloaded into her heart. I’ll work on that next time.

“She’s
livid
. She thinks it was done on purpose.”

“Let her.” I did tell her I wasn’t through with her. “How’s Máthair?”

“She’s okay, as usual. She understands. Mostly, she’s thrilled to reunite us. She wouldn’t stop talking about that. You need to call her more often.”

“I’ll try.” I know I probably won’t try hard enough.

“Especially now that they’ll probably shoot you on sight if you ever try to go back and visit.”

“I can go back anytime I want.”

“They can kill you now,” she reminds me. “Tell your ego not to forget that. And you’re not on your own anymore. You have two other people you have to consider. No, three. Counting me.”

“God, will you lay off?”

“Four. I forgot to count Máthair. Oh wait, five. For Christian.”

Christian. How could I forget. I search Tara’s eyes for any hint of news about Christian.

“He’s missing,” she says, with no need for me to ask.

I stare down into my plate.

“He’s fine. He’ll come back. He probably just needs to shake it off. You know how he is.”

And I know she’s right. Nothing ever fazes Christian. He always bounces back, unlike me, who can hold a grudge for decades. He should hold a grudge. What I did, what I said, should not be forgiven. I have to make it up to him somehow. Hopefully I’ll get an opportunity soon, so I don’t have to carry this new weight just when the massive load I have been carrying for fifteen years has finally been lifted.

Chapter 38

Liv

“C
an’t you stay
another night?” Tara asks as we’re putting on our jackets in the entryway. She gives me a hug then moves to Trey, who hugs her back tightly with his iron arms.

“I can’t breathe,” she gasps, and he releases her. She punches him in the arm. “Brute.”

“
A leanbh na páirte
,” Mamó says, coming up behind Tara. She takes Trey’s hand. “Be good to your mother. And always remember who you are.” She holds his eye for a moment before turning to me and taking my hands. “Liv. I hope you understand what a gift you are to this family. We are forever indebted to you.”

“Thank you,” I say, humbled, and for the first time I notice how old she really is.

Tara opens the door, and Trey and I walk down the steps. He stops halfway down and turns back.

“I’ll call you,” he says, simultaneously with Tara.

She laughs as he curses under his breath.

“That could get annoying.” He opens the trunk for our bags. He has no idea how lucky he is. To be expelled from the family he’s known only to have a new one fall out of the sky in front of him.

“How many hours is it to Black River?” I ask inside the car.

“Too many to think about right now. I’ll drive as far as I can then we’ll stop and get a room for the night. We’ll make good time in this car, but it’s going to eat a lot of gas.” He revs the engine and pulls away from the curb.

Maybe if he was easier on the pedal it wouldn’t eat so much gas. I settle into my seat, flip on the radio, and browse through the stations. “Classical?”

“Fuck no. Get out.” He reaches over me, pretending to go for my door handle. I latch onto his arm, holding it against my chest.

“I will wreck this car.” He pulls his arm back and smiles broadly at the windshield.

“Don’t stick any appendages over on my side then.”

He laughs. “I’m not even going to touch that.”

“’80s hair metal?”

“Sounds good to me.”

A few hours outside of Chicago we hit a wall of rain. Trey doesn’t slow down until I give him an I-don’t-want-to-die-young look. We lose our ’80s station so I reach for the buttons to find something else. He catches my hand and turns off the radio instead.

“Yesterday,” he says, “Tara told me that hundreds of years ago, the Moores massacred our ancestors. Their intent was to wipe the Bevans out, to extinction. Our ancestors’ magic was a threat to theirs. The Moores succeeded for the most part, but the remaining Bevans scattered in order to stay alive. They knew that they would be harder to seek out this way, and less of a threat. There is a saying: ‘
Ni heolas go haontios.
’”

“What does it mean?” I guess it took a couple hours of his silence for this to build.

“‘There is no knowledge without unity.’ What makes our magic work is the wide collection of knowledge, passed down through families. A collective mind. Without that, we have nothing. My books—my family’s texts—are sacred and rare. Our early people wrote nothing down. They feared it landing in the wrong hands. There are few copies. Mine are two hundred years old and were guarded by my mother in that house when I was a baby. The Moores never knew they were there.”

If those books need protection, under his watch is a perfect place for them. He’s quiet for a few minutes, and I watch the windshield wipers move back and forth in their rhythm.

“Tara said they continue to hunt us. Two weeks ago, they found some of our distant relatives, somewhere in the northeast, and executed them.”

The engine growls, and the needle on the speedometer starts moving forward.

“Do you want me to drive?” I ask gently.

He eases off the accelerator. “That’s why my mother didn’t want Tara’s address written down. They could come for Tara at any time if they ever find out where she is.”

“Oh my god,” I whisper. Those men they send after Trey would be coming after her, too. What would they do to women? To children?

“Do you know the danger my mother lived with when I was young? The risk she took, teaching me everything I know? Teaching Christian? Right under their noses. She’s crazy!” He presses his head against the headrest and exhales, like he’s trying to stave off the agitation I already see. “She’s lucky my father—my stepfather—loves her. Or she’d have been dead a long time ago. They have to know what she did by now.”

“But you’ve been gone so long. Maybe they think you picked it up yourself.”

“It’s not really something you can pick up yourself. I’m remembering now, all the times…god, my mother. She was bold.”

“Bold about what?”

“She’d do it right out in the open. My father would get so pissed at her for cooking when we had staff to do that. If he’d known what she was really doing… I’d sit on the counter and watch her, and she would cook, but also prepare other things, teaching me right there in front of them. Unless…”

I don’t want to be pushy, so I give him a moment. When he speaks again on his own, I’m glad I held my tongue.

“She must have used the Discretion Effect the whole time. I’d always be finding little packs in my pockets. It was the Discretion Effect. Shit.”

I remain quiet again so I don’t interrupt his thoughts that are rushing like the water through a broken dam.

“I wish I’d thought of this when Tara and I were talking. She’d get a kick out of that.”

“You’ll have to call her and tell her. Is it safe to call her?” I feel a little paranoid.

“She wouldn’t have given me her number if it wasn’t safe.”

His silence saturates the air, and I watch the road, allowing him to have some time to himself. About an hour later, the rain finally eases. He speeds up again, trying to make up for lost time I’m sure.

“So,” he says.

I turn to look at him. He is so handsome that my vision demands all of my mind’s resources.

“We have a bit of pressure on us. The remaining Bevans of the world seem to be counting on us to raise the person who will lead them out of hiding. Back to power.” He stares through the windshield, talking without looking at me.

“How do they know?”

“They know. They’ve been waiting a long time.”

“Great.” I try to downplay it. It’s too much to accept right now.

“Tara said we need to prepare her, make her stronger and more skilled than both you and me put together. We have our work cut out for us.”

Either it’s my imagination, or he’s excited about this.

“And how do you feel about this?” I ask nonchalantly.

“Ecstatic.” His voice mirrors his words in its intensity.

I don’t know what to say. It’s a lot to think about, and I’ve had little time to come to terms with everything else I learned.

“Liv, I’ve been in limbo for fifteen years. I thought I’d be in limbo for eternity. Living a useless life, forever. I was almost to the point of giving up. And then I met you.” He pauses to look at me. “And now this. I now have a reason to exist.” He turns back toward the windshield and takes my hand. “You’re enough of a reason yourself. But this? Our child? It’s an added bonus. I don’t deserve it.”

“You
do
deserve it.” Something clicks, and in a flash he’s inside my mind again like some mental relapse. An awareness so strong I can almost taste the tablet on my tongue. His whole life he’s been told by the people he thought were his family that he is their anathema. A threat who must be controlled in order to save them. That he cannot be trusted. And finally he learns this was all a lie to keep him from the calling he’s felt all his life.

A harsh edge has settled on his face, lines around his eyes I never noticed before. He doesn’t believe he deserves this. Until he’s confronted whatever still haunts him, he’ll never deem himself worthy. He’s been absolved from a broken life, but all he sees is the truth has exposed more lies, more crimes against him, adding another layer to the vengeance he hasn’t paid.

Weeks ago I drove this same highway, broken and burdened like he is now. My goal—the only thing I thought could help me—was distraction. It wasn’t a cure but it was a coping mechanism, a temporary reprieve until life moved me forward. Time is the cure. If I can keep him distracted, rein him in when his mind clouds with dark thoughts, maybe he can be happy until time can cure him.

I unbuckle and plant a long kiss on his neck. “Ever had sex in a car?” I nuzzle his ear.

“I’m pulling off.” He hits the accelerator and passes several cars before an exit sign appears in the distance.

With my offer so easily accepted, now I’m feeling the space between us, the air that’s been holding me away from him every day since the coyotes helped me drag him inside. He takes the exit ramp and turns into the closest lot which appears to be an abandoned service station. I lean into him as he pulls the car out of gear and yanks the parking brake. I am spellbound, and I wonder if he actually did put a spell on me. His lips are like a drug, and I am an addict, falling off the wagon. He pushes his seat back all the way and pulls me over the center console. My fingers grope, searching for a path to his skin. His fingers are faster, more successful, and I feel them slide up my back, taking my shirt with them.

His fingers seize up, and he pulls away, staring into my eyes. I start to object.

“Shh.” He leans to look in the side mirror. “Oh,
shit
.”

He slides me back into my seat and pulls his seat a notch forward in one fluid motion. A car door slams behind us, and Trey lowers his window and turns off the engine. I study his face now so thoroughly cleared of all expression. A police officer appears at his window.

“Well, I couldn’t tell if anyone was in here with that dark window tint. How are we today?”

“Fine,” Trey grumbles. He shifts in his seat like this is the most boring thing he’s ever had to sit through.

“I need your license and registration.”

Trey reaches into the glove box for the papers from the car dealership and slides his license out of his wallet. The officer takes them back to his car.

I feel like a teenager, ashamed for being caught doing something wrong. Trey looks over at me and laughs.

“This is funny?” I ask, shocked by his reaction.

“Yes. Especially since it is
your
fault.”

I cross my arms and stare through the windshield. He leans over and kisses my neck while sliding his palm across my belly.

I catch his hand. “I kind of lost the mood.”

“It will come back.” He holds my gaze.

We wait in silence for a while until footsteps approach.

The officer hands back the license and papers. “You just purchased this vehicle, Mr. Bevan?”

“Yes.”

He steps back to take a long look at the car. “With this amount of damage?”

“Exhaust system is trashed too, want to take a look at that?”

“Would you mind telling me why you’re parked here?”

“She wanted to screw, so I pulled off the highway.” The Trey Bevan direct approach.

The officer chuckles. “Is that right?”

Trey silently holds his position.

The officer leans in to look at me. “Ma’am?”

“Guilty,” I mumble, furious Trey didn’t even attempt a white lie to save me the embarrassment. I make an effort to lighten the man’s mood, and I get this? Next time I’ll go for the radio.

“You two are from out east?” he asks, obviously trying to explain our immoral behavior. Because east coast people…like to have sex in cars?

“No. We’re heading home to Montana.”

“You just came out to pick up the car in Richmond.”

“And visit family, yes.” Trey’s tone falters, and I start to wonder how much longer he can keep his cool. Bringing up Richmond sure didn’t help the situation.

“Is there anything in the vehicle I should be aware of?”

Trey’s voice rises. “You kidding me?”

“Trey,” I warn. The last thing we need to do is piss off a state trooper. We are almost out of this. He needs to stay calm.

And suddenly I remember our arsenal in the trunk.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” The officer is visibly pleased he found something on us.

“Take a look yourself,” Trey growls, pushes the trunk release and shoves out of the car. The officer is barely out of the way of Trey’s door.

He’s got to be crazy. I don’t want to imagine what he’s thinking, what he could do. I twist in my seat, watching them move to the back of the car. Bags shuffle, zippers unzip, and the trunk slams.

“I’ll let you get back on your way. Tell the lady to behave herself, and drive safely.”

Trey slides back into his seat and slams the door. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Back on the highway, he notices my silence and glances at me. “What.”

“You couldn’t have spared me with one little white lie?”

“I’m a bad liar.”

“Well then if you can’t lie, tell him that
you
wanted to screw. Because you did.”

“I guess I could have. But what does it matter?”

“I guess it doesn’t,” I mumble. It’s pointless to be sullen about it. “He didn’t see the guns?”

“He saw them. I have a little more faith in the effect now that I know how my mother used it. Should I pull off at the next exit?”

“No. I’m supposed to behave myself. Remember?” I reach for the radio.

“We’ll see how long that lasts.”

“You are an asshole,” I remind him.

“Noted.”

The only radio station that comes in is an evangelical sermon. Giving up, I start to turn it off but he stops me.

“Leave it there. This will be good. We need a little comic relief.”

Before long, he has me laughing along with him at the preacher. When the station starts to cut out, we both groan in disappointment.

We make a stop, and I take over the wheel for a few hours until the sun stares right in our faces on its descent toward the horizon. We stop and eat dinner, and, feeling sleepy, I ask him to drive again.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he says. “You have to finish what you started earlier.”

“Right,” I say sarcastically, closing my eyes and snuggling into the seat. “My unconsciousness never stopped you before.”

“Okay, you asked for it.”

When my eyes open, we’re parked under the bright lights of a motel lobby entrance.