The Crossing (Immortals) (41 page)

He surprised himself by reaching out and taking his
mother's hand. "I know Leanna reminds you of the biggest
mistake you've ever made, Mum, but it's not her fault, after
all. Can't you welcome her in Annwyn-if not for her own
sake, then for mine? She fought for me in Hell. Nearly
died for me. She needs Annwyn's magic now."

Niniane looked down at their joined hands. After a long
moment, she looked up and nodded. "All right, Mac. Anything to get you home."

Artemis looked up from her magazine and sighed. Zander
was resting peacefully in his hospital bed, even smiling a
little in his sleep. She was grateful for that blessing, really
she was. Her son's soul was obviously back in his body,
where it belonged.

But he had yet to awaken.

It's only been three days, she reminded herself for the thousandth time. She closed the magazine-she wasn't reading
it, anyway-and tossed it on the wheeled tray table with
the others.

She wished Mac were here.

He'd said he'd come, and with Kalen's neat trick of
translocation, the trip from Scotland only took minutes.
Three days had passed, and Mac hadn't yet appeared. It
made her uneasy. Had Leanna worsened? Had Mac? He'd
neatly evaded all her questions about what had happened
in Lucifer's lair. And he'd looked so wan and tired, despite
his jokes and smiles.

Her hand drifted to her stomach. Even if Mac had
changed his mind about loving her, surely he would have
come because of his son. Something was wrong, terribly
wrong. She stood and paced the tiny room. In her haste to
get to Zander, she hadn't thought to ask Mac how she
could contact him. He'd said he would come, and she'd
taken him at his word. She had no phone number, no e-mail address. She didn't even have a good idea of exactly
where Kalen's island castle lay. Short of getting on a plane
and beginning a survey of the northern Scottish coast, she
had no way to connect with Mac at all.

A small sound, like the mew of a kitten, broke through
her churning thoughts. Her gaze flew to the bed.

Zander's tossed his head, mussing his dark curls. She
was at his side in an instant, lowering the bed's side rail
and chafing his small hand. His fingers were warm. They
curled into hers. Dark eyelashes fluttered, and then his
beautiful eyes opened. He blinked, his forehead wrinkling.

She smoothed the lines with her fingers. "Zander?"

"Mommy?"

"Yes, love, I'm here."

He turned his head to one side. "Where's here?"

She sat down on the bed. "A hospital, baby."

He wrinkled his nose. "Don't call me that. I'm not a
baby." Then, "Am I sick?"

"Not sick, exactly." She paused. "Don't you remember?"

"I remember you went out. I didn't want you to go. Mrs.
Clark stayed with me. She read me a story and I went
to bed."

Artemis cupped the side of his head. His skin was so
smooth, so perfect. Tears crowded her eyes. "Do you remember what happened after that?"

He shook his head slowly. "A bad dream, I think. Bad
magic. It's all fuzzy, though." He peered up at her. "Is it
important that I remember, Mommy?"

She leaned close and kissed his cheek. "No, Zander, it's
not. In fact, I think... I think it's best if you just let the
memory fade away."

He entwined his thin arms around her neck. "All right,
Mommy. I will. I don't like it much, anyway."

"Oh, Zander." She lost the battle with her tears.

Zander patted her arm. "Don't cry, Mommy."

His attempt to console her only made her cry harder. Heedless of the intravenous drip, she pulled her son
into her lap and wrapped her arms tightly around his
small body. The plastic tubing pulled free; an alarm light
flashed. She didn't care. She brushed Zander's soul with
her magic. No surge of lingering darkness met her psychic
touch. Her son's soul was strong and innocent, just as it
had been before he'd been snatched.

Her tears came harder. She couldn't seem to make them
stop.

A round-faced nurse popped her head in the door. Her
gaze took in Artemis and Zander entwined on the bed,
and a broad smile appeared on her face.

"Looks like my favorite patient is awake." She bustled
into the room. Reluctantly, Artemis relinquished her son
while the woman recorded Zander's vitals.

"Everything looks good," the nurse said, smiling as she
headed out the door. "I'll just let the doctor know."

The next hours went by in a blur of consultations and
opinions. By evening she and Zander were back in their
own tiny apartment. Zander giggled over cartoons on cable, while Artemis made a mental note to call his school's
principal in the morning.

It all seemed so surreal. As if the last six months had been
nothing but a long, terrible nightmare.

Except for Mac. And the fact that in nine short months
she'd be giving birth to his child. She'd have to tell Zander. Would Mac be here with her when she did?

Where was he?

Fighting a deep sense of unease, she found the remote
and switched off the television. "Time for bed."

"Aw, Mommy, I'm not tired!"

She smiled. "Too bad."

Zander rolled his eyes, but changed into his pajamas
with a minimum of fuss. He fell asleep during his bedtime
story, his head drooping onto Artemis's shoulder. For a
long time, Artemis savored the feel of his soft, trusting body. Then she lowered his head to the pillow, pulled up
the covers, and kissed him good night.

Maybe Mac would come tomorrow. She could hope,
anyway. She walked across the living room and entered the
kitchen.

And stopped dead. A very large man sat at her table. His
hare legs, covered to the knee by a tartan kilt, stretched
halfway into the center of the small room.

"Kalen. What are you doing here?" Then, more fearfully, "Where's Mac?"

The Immortal stood and inclined his head in a brief
greeting. "Mac's in Annwyn."

"Annwyn? But he hates it there."

"So he does. But it was... necessary."

"Necessary?" Why did the word sound so ominous?
"Necessary in what way?"

Kalen hesitated. "Mac didn't want you to know. But
once he left, Christine started hounding me about making
the trip here to tell you. She thought you had the right to
know. We argued for three days." He smiled ruefully.
"You can see who won."

His smile faded.

Artemis's hand found the edge of the counter. "Tell me
what?"

Kalen nodded to the empty chair beside him. "Sit down,
Artemis. I don't think you want to hear this standing up."

Numbly, she dropped into the chair. "What's wrong,
Kalen? What's happened to Mac?"

Kalen rose and paced the length of the narrow kitchen.
When he reached the doorway, he pivoted to face her.
"Mac's gone to Annwyn in the hope... that the life
magic of the Celtic Otherworld can heal his soul well
enough to hold back the inevitable. For a time, at least.
Exactly how long, I have no idea. He's not human, after
all. It's possible-even probable-that the end won't come
for centuries. But it will come, eventually."

"The end?" Artemis was aware of a chill seeping into
her extremities. "What... end? I don't understand."

"Death."

The word fell like a curse. Air rushed from her lungs. She
went very still. "But... Mac can't die. He's immortal."

"He was immortal. No longer." Kalen's dark eyes bored
into hers. "He traded his immortality to Lucifer, in exchange for the souls in Ptolomaea. For your son, and the
other innocents. Mac's soul is mortal now. When his life
essence is depleted, he'll die."

An image of Mac, lying still and pale as a corpse,
burned panic into Artemis's brain. All that life, all that humor and vibrancy-gone? A shudder ran through her.

"No. That's not right. He's a god. Gods can't die."

Kalen shook his head. "Gods can do anything they
want. Even sacrifice their lives."

Kalen's broad form wavered through Artemis's tears.
Gods, she never used to cry. Now it seemed like all she
could do. "This is my fault."

Kalen was feigning a fascination with her coffeemaker.
"I can't pretend you didn't play a major role in what happened, Artemis, but in the end, the choice was Mac's."

The assessment did little to relieve Artemis's crushing
guilt. "Will he live the rest of his life in Annwyn, then?"

"Perhaps. He'll live longer there."

"But he hates Annwyn."

Kalen sighed. "I know."

The summer sun was warm, and the air carried a hint of
perfume. The mid July breeze gathered in a cluster of
wild roses before running across the playground. Artemis
sat on a wooden bench, her hands folded atop a very
round belly as she watched three lads scale a ladder leading to a spiral tube slide. Two of the boys, strapping
blond-haired twins, reached the top first. A smaller, darker
lad, hair kissed with gold, was close behind.

Mac returned his attention to Artemis. Her stomach
was so large he was sure she'd lost sight of her feet some
months prior. She looked like a Madonna, round and
filled with life magic. It almost hurt to look at her. It had
been so long since he'd kissed her good-bye.

He was glad he'd gotten here in time. Time was a highly
distorted commodity in Annwyn, and he wasn't at all sure
until he'd cleared the gates just how many months had
passed since he'd last walked on human ground.

He smiled. It was good to be home. Despite his new
mortality, his heart was lighter than it had ever been. He
loped forward on silent feet. He couldn't resist the temptation to sneak up on her. "Hey, love, is this a private
bench? Or is that far end available?"

Her head jerked up. Her face was fuller than he remembered it, her cheeks a bit blotchy. For a moment, he
thought she hadn't recognized him. He knew he looked older than when she'd seen him last-perhaps a human decade or so. But surely he didn't look so different as all that.

He sat on the far end of the bench, one arm extended
along the backrest. His hand dangled scant inches from
her shoulder. "What's wrong, love? Cat got your tongue?"

She glanced at him quickly, then looked away. "It's...
really you? Alive? You're not... dead?"

"Dead?" He frowned. "Did you think I was?"

"I wondered. Kalen... he told me what you'd given up.
When I didn't hear from you..

"I'm sorry, Artemis. I should have gotten word to you.
And it was touch-and-go there for a while. I came very
close to dying. But in the end, the magic of Annwyn came
through for me. For me and for Leanna."

She still wouldn't look at him. "But... you're not immortal."

He exhaled. "No. But neither are you, love."

She did look at him then. "But... I never was immortal.
I never expected to live forever. You were a god!"

His lips quirked. "Only half a god."

Tears shone in her eyes. "How can you joke about it?"

He scooted a few inches closer. He wanted to gather her
into his arms, wanted to feel his son's life essence in her
belly. He contented himself with playing a little rhythm
on her shoulder. "I gave up my immortality, love, not my
sense of humor."

She met his gaze, stricken. "Stop joking, please."

"I'm not joking," he said quietly. "Technically, I'm still a
demigod. Just not an immortal one. All my powers are intact. It's just my longevity that's changed. Does it mean so
much to you, Artemis?"

"You must be so angry with me."

"Oh, I've been angry with you. For a lot of reasons. But
not for the one you imagine." He looked toward the playground. "Zander's doing well?"

"Yes. He doesn't remember his time in Hell. It's gone, like a bad dream. There are no lingering effects that I
can tell."

"Excellent."

She cleared her throat. "I've given up death magic. For
good. I don't care if it means I'm less powerful than I was.
I've had enough death magic to last me three lifetimes."

"Me, too." He shifted on the bench, bringing his fingers
in contact with the back of her neck.