Through the Veil (22 page)

He shook his head. “You are too weak, Eira.”

“And I will not get stronger, Kalen. This is a simple truth.” He flinched at her words, and she seemed to understand exactly what was going through his mind. “I am dying, Kalen. Time and rest will not change that. What else have I to do? Lie here and just wait to die?” Eira asked quietly. “I wait already.”

“You are not dying,” Kalen said softly. Standing up, he shook his head and started to pace the narrow, confined space. “You’re not.”

But he knew he lied. There was only so much they could do for someone suffering from recurring strokes. Damage done by advancing age was something outside of a healer’s ability. Morne had done what he could, but it had been precious little.

If she had another stroke, Eira would be gone.

But Kalen didn’t want to think about that yet. She was a fixture in his life. Save for the war and Lee, she was the one thing that had always been there, and even more rare than that, she was a welcome constant.

The war had been raging his entire life.

Lee had been there more than half of his life, but there had been times when her presence was almost too painful, the way she came and went, appearing and then disappearing like smoke.

But Eira was constant. He could count on her honesty. He could count on her listening when he needed it. Simply put, he could count on her. He always had been able to. He wasn’t ready to let that change.

“It has to change, boy.”

He looked up and flushed as he realized he’d been broadcasting his emotions, his shields dropped so that he was wide open. Eira had picked up every last thought. The stroke hadn’t affected that part of her brain. Slowly, he sat down beside the bed. The medic lingering at Eira’s side left silently. Kalen held out his hand and Eira lifted hers. He closed his fingers around hers and squeezed.

“It is changing, boy. I’m sorry for it—you need me still. All of you. Lee is not ready. Perhaps if Elina was here, she could take my place and train your warrior woman. But she is not.” Each word was slow, stilted, but her voice was determined. “Send for her. Elina will come. She can train Lee, and together, the two of you can battle back this darkness. Perhaps even defeat it. I only wish I could see it.”

“You will.” Kalen tightened his hand and made himself smile. But it was a lie, both his words and the smile, because he could all but see the death lurking on her.

“No.” Her one good eye narrowed, and she gave him a glare he could remember from childhood. The one that meant she wasn’t going to buy any innocent line he might hand her to get out of doing whatever it was he should have been doing. “You were never a liar, Kalen. Do not start now.”

She tugged her hand from his and pressed the control on the bed railing. The ancient bed rose at the head, degree by degree, and she shifted around. Kalen reached over to help and she stilled. “I may be old and dying, but I am not yet dead. If I need help, I shall ask.”

Finally, she settled back against the mattress with a weary sigh. She closed her eyes and without looking, she said, “The damage inside my head cannot be undone. Some of the medics are working on an herbal concoction. Could buy a few more weeks. I’ll use those weeks to do what I can with Lee. Fight me on this, Kalen, and I will spend those last weeks making your life hell.” Her lids opened—well, the right one did. The left one did little more than flicker. “My brain still functions, Kalen. I am not dead yet. I am not yet useless. Let me do what I can. I have to do this.”

He understood, that was the bitch of it all. He understood. If he knew his fighting days were done and death was lurking at his door, he would still want to fight in whatever way he could. But it didn’t make it any easier to realize that he was going to have to let her go.

“I’m not quite ready to let you go, Eira.” He tried to smile down at her, but he just couldn’t.

Her fingers squeezed his, and Kalen couldn’t help but notice how much weaker even that simple gesture was. Her faded eyes were compassionate and she looked at him with gentle understanding as she whispered, “Is death anything any of us can truly prepare for, Kalen? It’s odd, you know— death is one of the few things guaranteed to any of us. But when it comes, it still shocks. It still startles. It still hurts. But I’m tired, Kalen. Try to understand that.”

Understand it? That wasn’t the problem. How could she not be tired, considering how long she’d been doing this? Kalen had been doing it twenty years and he was tired to the bone. Eira had been at it for more than sixty. So yes, he could understand it. The problem was accepting it.

Lee hadn’t ever been much for meditating until Eira forced her to learn. She wouldn’t admit it, but there was something very relaxing, very soothing about it. It made everything in the world fall away.

All that mattered was the beat of her heart. Each beat of her heart eased away just a little more of the tension that knotted her muscles. There was a soft, gentle breeze blowingthrough her hair, and she could feel each individual strand as it tickled her ears, her cheek, her neck.

She could hear leaves rustling, smell the warm scent of grass. A song. She could hear something calling to her, singing to her. Seductive and whispering of a power she couldn’t even begin to understand. She could just barely glimpse the power, huge and unending.

It whispered and sang and danced. It had a tribal beat, something sensual and scary at the same time. She wanted to reach for it. Wanted to dive into that power and bathe in it. But at the same time, she wanted to run away and hide.

There was a darkness to the power. It permeated the earth, spreading through it like a disease. It rumbled and shook and shuddered deep, deep inside the land. The unrest had yet to surface. And still the drums beat. The music of it pulsed through her veins, singing to her.

Lee sighed, unaware she had done so, as she continued to peer inside the dark, shadowy storm brewing deep below and far away. Very far away. An ugly, black maelstrom and at the heart of it was the source behind the storm.

The song had gotten louder, too. Much louder—wrapping around her.

Her eyes were closed, but it was like she could still see. Her vision was weird, though. Everything felt surreal. She never moved her hands, but she could see herself reaching out. Reaching, reaching . . . until her touch sank into the earth . . . reaching . . . reaching . . . She touched her hand to that black maelstrom.

Something moved behind her. It was the quietest of sounds, faint, almost too faint to hear, so soft she never should have been able to hear it over the tribal drumbeat of the other music. The new song echoed through her head like a symphony, a wild, exotic music, so lovely to the ear—and so out of place in the storm.

It jolted her out of the trance and she froze as she realized she wasn’t alone.

Even though she was still in the base camp, and thus relatively safe, terror flooded her veins. Instinctively, she tucked her body into a tight ball and rolled away. And instantly felt like a total fool.

It was Morne.

He wasn’t what she’d call harmless. Not with that fallen angel face and dark, penetrating eyes. But he wasn’t a threat to her, either. She didn’t understand why she was so sure, but nonetheless, she was. As she stood, she brushed the grass from her pants and slid a hand through her hair. And Morne watched everything she did with a strange smile.

“Your magick grows. You must use caution when you study the Veil. There are many dangers on that path.”

The guy had disturbing eyes, Lee decided as she stared at him and debated whether or not to say anything. It wasn’t like he’d asked a question. He’d done what fifty other people had done since she’d arrived in this weird, terrifying world—given her advice she hadn’t asked for. There was so much information flying through her head, and she couldn’t make sense of it all. Sometimes she felt like if she had to take anything else in, her head would explode.

Or she would. Not physically, but emotionally. Her patience was worn so thin, it was a wonder she could have a rational conversation without ranting like a maniac. She was so tired, so scared and so freaked out, and when she wasn’t trying to deal with all of the weirdness going on around her, she was trying to deal with the weirdness going on inside her.

Her feelings for Kalen. These strange new talents that seemed so out of control and so bizarre, but at the same time, still so natural. Then there was Morne, still standing there watching her with those intense black eyes.

“Are you going to tell me to—how do you phrase it . . . oh yes—shut my trap and keep my advice to myself?” Morne asked. A pale silver brow rose, and the smile on his face grew just a little.

Lee flushed. Okay, she had flown off the handle a few times lately. So what? She thought she was handling the situation pretty well. “What do you want?” Lee hadn’t talked to Morne once since the last time he’d forced her to drink that disgusting tea—and she’d spat it out at him. As she sat back down on the tree stump, she grinned. It had almost been worth the taste that time, just to see it dripping off his face.

After all the times he’d shoved that crap down her throat, it seemed only fair. He still hadn’t answered her. She watched from the corner of her eye as he circled around her. There was something very disconcerting about the way he watched her.

Morne crouched down in front of her. He wore his hair long, even longer than Kalen. It was even paler than her own—so pale a blond it appeared white in places. In contrast, his eyes looked black. Not dark brown, but a black so dark and deep the pupil was indiscernible from the iris. “You do not remember your magick, but your magick remembers you. It comes so easily to your call,” he said. “I have to wonder how your powers would have grown if your training had started when it should have.”

He reached out and touched his fingers to her face, tracing one roughened fingertip down her temple. “It glows inside of you. It surprises me that it managed to stay silent as long as it did.” As he trailed his finger along her skin, he left a hot path blazing.

Something stirred inside her. It wasn’t lust—not exactly, although Lee was acutely aware of the man in front of her. He was the picture of elegant masculine perfection, a contrast to Kalen’s rugged, dark appeal. Elegant, even though he wore the plain basic garb all the people here wore: that matte black tunic and pants that resembled the cargos that were popular at home, but here, they served a much more basic purpose than fashion. Each and every pocket and loop was used. She could see a variety of weapons, guns, some sort of laser thing, blades. That matte black tunic was in fact armor, just as Lee had suspected. She’d been told it was strong enough to protect the wearer from laser pulses and the more commonplace blades and firepower.

Soldier gear, all of it, but Morne managed to wear it the same way James Bond wore a tux. He moved with a sensual elegance and grace that Lee did find incredibly appealing. It was there and it was powerful.

But none of that mattered. It wasn’t her body that was reaching for him. It was something else, something deep inside her—the same thing that had reached for the blackness she’d sensed inside the Earth.

Morne’s hand fell and he rocked back on his heels, staring at her with appraising eyes. “Your power knows mine.”

Mouth dry, Lee tried to shrug it off. “So what? According to Kalen, I’ve been using my power, whatever the hell it is, since I was a kid. I’m assuming you’re not new to your power either and we’ve fought together before.”

But it was more than that. A lot more. Lee knew that without him saying a word. “You and I rarely worked together. My . . . battle skills work better when I am alone. You had the luck of the saints avoiding serious injury and never needed my healing skills. Until recently. So it is not that we have meshed powers before. And I think you know that.” His voice was low and hypnotic.

She could feel it again—that weird sense of something unfurling inside her, reaching out. And this time, it reached for Morne, and she could feel his power reaching out in return. His hand came up, cupping her cheek and tipping her head back. His eyes weren’t black, she realized, staring into them. This close, she could see that they were blue. An impossibly dark blue, a blue darker than the midnight sky. His pupils flared, eclipsed, until even this close, his gaze appeared truly black.

She could hear the cadence of his heart beating, and it called to her like some sort of siren song.
Lub dub. Lub dub
. A heartbeat hadn’t ever sounded so hypnotic. Or so loud. The beat of their hearts melded, pulsating in tandem until individual beats were impossible to distinguish. Lee wanted to pull away, but she felt frozen in place and she couldn’t even blink.

“It must wake, Lelia,” Morne murmured. “There is not much time.”

Her tongue felt thick. She had to swallow to even speak. “Wake?”

“Not much time,” Morne repeated. His gaze dropped and she could feel him staring at her mouth. “So clean,” he whispered. “So untouched. Untainted. No wonder . . .”

His words ended abruptly and he pulled his hand back. When the contact broke, Lee felt like somebody had just thrown a bucket of water on her, waking her from a deep, confusing dream. When Morne spoke, his voice seemed to come from far off.

“Kalen.”

Lee blinked. He didn’t make any sense. None. “What?” She tried to ask, but she still couldn’t speak clearly. Her throat was too dry, too tight. Morne was gone—he wasn’t in front of her anymore, but he was still there. She could hear him talking.

She could still hear his heart. It no longer beat in rhythm with her own—no, his heartbeat was slow and steady while hers slammed away against her ribs in an erratic, unsteady tempo. She still couldn’t move. Lee whimpered, and this time, she actually heard herself make a sound.

Lee sucked a deep breath in, and slowly, some of the fog faded from her mind. Enough that she was aware of something other than the sound of her heart beating out of rhythm with Morne’s. It was Kalen’s voice. Harsh and angry. Lee swallowed and looked up to find Kalen in Morne’s face, his tanned face flushed even darker with fury.