Treason: Book Two of the Grimoire Saga (a Young Adult Fantasy series) (52 page)

The Vagabond’s voice broke, and he didn’t say anything more.

Stone continued for him. “I couldn’t ignore a drenowith in my home. Because the drenowith are immortal, I had to wonder. Would absorbing a muse let me live forever without ever having to absorb another soul? It made sense. I was young for an isen, but I could still hear the voices of my victims rattling together within me. I didn’t want to destroy myself someday because they drove me to madness. Cedric, you lulled him into such a sense of security that I would have been foolish to ignore the opportunity.”

“No, I was foolish to think you were a stronger man than that. And don’t call me Cedric,” the first Vagabond said.

Stone arched his back. A flash of anger sparked across his face. In that second, Kara became nothing more than a spectator.

“I barely won,” Stone said with a huff.

“That’s no consolation!”

“Cedric, Bailey’s voice is the loudest of them all. I live in a mountain because it makes him comfortable. It’s as far from Niccoli as possible, which also helps. I try to make him happy, but I don’t think you care. You spoke to me only once after that.”

“To ask you to put his soul in the Grimoire,” Kara interjected.

It made sense. The Grimoire was all the Vagabond had left of a body. Stone, an isen, could move souls around. The Vagabond would live as long as the book survived.

“You were never supposed to know any of this, Kara, much less be involved,” the Vagabond said.

“Did you know I was an isen?” she asked.

“Yes,” both men said in unison. They each looked at each other and furrowed their eyebrows in surprise.

“Wait, you
both
knew? How?” Kara asked.

Stone cleared his throat. “Do you remember my comment on your smell when I first met you?”

Kara rolled her eyes. “You said I smelled funny.”

“I believe I said ‘strange,’ but yes. You smelled
familiar
. Thanks to Bailey, I have a drenowith’s heightened senses. I could smell the nearly undetectable isen perfume on you, even when Niccoli never could. I knew.”

The Vagabond sighed. “And the Grimoire saw everything about you when you opened it, even that which you didn’t know. That was part of its design, to decide if you are truly worthy. Your isen blood is one of the reasons you were chosen.”

“What? Why?”

“No isen could steal you and control your power over the Grimoire.”

Stone rubbed his temples. “Low blow, Cedric.”

The old ghost shrugged.

“Can I talk to Stone alone, please?” Kara asked.

The Vagabond hesitated. “I supposed so, but you and I have unfinished business.”

“Oh, believe me, I know. But I need to talk to Stone right now.”

The Vagabond nodded. The smoky tendrils that comprised his body unraveled and dissolved until he disappeared into the air.

Stone leaned back in his chair and watched her for a moment. She didn’t say anything. She wanted him to apologize and admit this hadn’t been his choice to make, but her gut told her that wouldn’t happen.

“Oh, I believe this is yours,” Stone said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the Grimoire pendant by its chain.

Kara smiled and fastened it around her neck. “Why doesn’t it burn you when you touch it? It burned Gavin.”

“I simply know better than to touch the pendant. The chain is safe,” he answered.

“Oh.”

Stone nodded, but didn’t say anything further. He looked out the window, and Kara crossed her arms. She stared at the floor, the wall, the bed—anything, rather than look at him. Now that she had the man alone, she wasn’t sure how to word any of the questions running through her mind.

She groaned after a while. “You’re not going to apologize, are you?”

Stone just smiled and rubbed his face. Deep bags lined the creases beneath his eyes.

“So how does being an isen work?” she asked.

“Show me your right palm.”

Kara frowned, her question apparently ignored, but she obeyed. A thin purple barb slid out from the base of her palm as she turned it upward. She stifled a gasp.

“Controlling that will be your first and hardest chore. I don’t want you to leave my home until you can manage it. Otherwise, you will scare away those you try to help.”

She nodded and sighed. “Can I get your advice on something?”

“I suppose.”

“Isen or no, I just can’t believe the Grimoire isn’t the source of my magic. I felt powerless and weak when Braeden took the pendant from me.”

“Your power never came from the Grimoire, Kara. You aren’t powerless without it. That was all in your head. There is nothing in that book you can’t learn on your own—it just makes life a bit easier to learn from others. As you improve, you might want to use it less. If you rely too much on others to tell you want to do, you will neglect your own natural talent and never realize your full potential.”

“I guess.”

“I
know,
” he said. His eyes shifted out of focus.

She shrugged. “I guess I should thank you. That fall from the steps hurt pretty badly. I wouldn’t have gotten away. Niccoli would have turned me if you hadn’t interrupted.”

“No, I suspect you would have escaped that time. Again, you underestimate yourself. But he would have caught up to you eventually. He would have found you, and you would have been his slave until he died. By then, everyone you knew would be dead. You would have lost all sense of reason and probably killed hundreds of thousands, maybe millions by that point.”

“Thank you for that lovely look into what could have been.”

“So yes”—he continued as if she hadn’t said anything—“you’re welcome. Please refrain from pinning me against walls in the future.”

“I’ll try.”

The conversation died. Instead, they listened to the crickets outside. Kara toyed with her right hand, clenching and relaxing her fist in an effort to retract the barb.

Stone nodded to her wrist. “Would you like to know how it works?”

“Yes.”

“A soul is a pool of energy that clings to the spine, blood, and brain. Our barbs, then, work in two ways, both piercing the skin and absorbing the soul from the body much in the way it leaves naturally upon death.”

“How do I control the barb?”

“Meditation, mostly. You need to
connect
with the desire to steal, rather than suppress it. Acknowledge its existence, but forbid the desire. Even you will not pick it up quickly, but we will practice together.”

Kara looked at her palm and stretched her fingers. The barb moved with her, extending and retracting as she moved her hand. The sharp tip reminded her of the spikes at each end of the table where Aislynn had tried to drain Adele’s blood from her.

“Stone, how much do you know of what the Bloods did to me and one of my drenowith friends?” she asked.

“Only rumors, none of which are very flattering.”

“To whom?”

“You.”

Kara grumbled under her breath, but described the table and what happened anyway. Stone listened, quiet and thoughtful, and didn’t interrupt to even clear his throat.

She scratched the wrist guard. “The spikes on the table were curved like our barbs. Did an isen really help make it?”

“I can’t say. Might I be able to see this table?”

“I don’t know how to get back to it. All I know is that it’s in Ethos.”

“That doesn’t tell me much.”

“I know.”

“I’ve read documents about that table. It likely works in much the same way as we do.”

“What do you mean?”

Stone rubbed his hands together. “Well, I’d imagine the barbs on the table tap into the soul’s essence, connecting it to another’s. Essentially, a bit of one soul is transferred to another. That is how this Evelyn girl was given the bloodline when she wasn’t born with it—a piece of her aunt now lives within her.”

“Now that is a scary thought.”

“Evelyn isn’t controlled by her aunt in that sense, but her aunt will essentially become her conscience, and she will rationalize in a similar manner. As for the table itself, I would imagine one of the seats is designed to give the small bit of soul, while the other is designed to receive it. I have to see it to be sure.”

“Why would you want to be sure?”

“Everyone has a purpose in life. Mine is to learn as much as I can about everything I come across.”

Kara didn’t have a reply, so she stayed silent.

Stone got to his feet and stretched. “As I wasn’t quite expecting you, I must restock my kitchen. Will you stay here and out of trouble?”

It was a legitimate question. A request. No compulsion tied her to the cave. He’d actually asked.

“Yes,” she said.

Stone’s dry voice fell into an even flatter monotone. “Splendid. Feel free to walk about the house. I’ll find you if you get lost.”

“It’s that big?”

“I’ve had several centuries to carve it. Bailey doesn’t enjoy being idle.”

“What’s it like, having souls inside you?” she asked.

Stone paused at the doorframe.

“Before Bailey, my mind was merely busy. Full of thoughts, some of which weren’t mine. But Bailey is louder, harder to ignore. I often feel like he’s standing next to me, suggesting what we should do and nagging me when I ignore him.”

“Has he forgiven you?”

“Long ago.”

“Then why won’t the first Vagabond forgive you?”

“Because he blames himself for what happened, not me. His longing for peace blinded him to the truth of life for so long, yet it wasn’t until he himself died that he even saw it.”

Kara’s shoulders tensed. The first Vagabond had shown her ages ago, when she first found the village, what his most influential memory had been: the night his followers and lover were murdered. He’d lost everything and realized too late what it meant to be a Vagabond.

But he had also realized too late what it meant to live. He hadn’t lived at all, but served those who rejected him by slaving after the near-impossible purpose of universal peace. His memory and his memory alone had fueled her into denying her growing love for Braeden, but she couldn’t deny herself anymore.

Kara had nearly died, and now she wanted to live fully. Completely. And that life involved Braeden for as long as he would have her.

Stone opened the door. “I have a lot to teach you, but use the next few days to rest. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

He walked into the hallway and closed the door behind him.

Kara listened for Stone’s footsteps to fade away. She waited, standing in the middle of the room even after the echo disappeared. When a good ten minutes passed in utter silence, she took a deep breath to prepare herself.

“Vagabond, can you come out again?” she asked.

Nothing moved. Kara waited, hoping she could have a chance to talk to him alone, but no answer came. She sighed and turned for the door, only to jump back when she saw him standing in front of it.

“What is it?” he asked.

“We obviously have a lot to talk about—Cedric,” she added with a grin.

He sighed. “I can’t believe he told you.”

“Sure you can. I mean, come on, this is Stone we’re talking about. And I think ‘Cedric’ is a nice name.”

“Perhaps, but it’s part of my old life. I’m the Vagabond now, and using my old name is merely a distraction.”

No, Kara wanted to say,
she
was the Vagabond.
He
was a ghost. He had every right to move on, to be at peace, to find Helen in the next life. But Kara kept that to herself. He could read her thoughts, and if he’d chosen to do so at that moment, her intention was clear: she just wanted him to finally be at peace.

“Are you still upset with me?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Dying makes it easier to forgive, I guess. I’ve said a lot of selfish things in my life and held too many grudges. As for you, I want your help and advice. You just can’t threaten the people I love if I don’t take it.”

He nodded. “That’s fair.”

“I’m sorry for everything I said that night you called me into the Grimoire,” she said.

“As am I, my girl, for what I said.”

“I was just so
mad
,” she said with a laugh.

He grinned. “As was I.”

Kara walked over to the bed and sat down, though the first Vagabond didn’t move from his place at the door.

“This is all so much to process, Cedric—er, Vagabond. Are you sure I can’t call you Cedric?”

“Please don’t.”

“Can I ask why?”

His shoulders sagged. “The man I was—Cedric—died with Helen. That name embodies all of my mistakes, my weaknesses, my distraction from my ultimate purpose. I will not let myself be free from this world until I make things right. When I earn that name, I can have it back.”

Kara leaned back. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“No need to apologize, but thank you. It’s why I never wanted you to have personal connections. I just didn’t want you to end up like me.”

Kara sighed. “That explains a lot. But—and I’m not trying to make you angry with this—it seems like not having personal connections is a weakness. If you don’t have loved ones, who do you fight for?”

The Vagabond frowned. “Some people can’t fight for themselves, Kara. They need heroes. You can’t leave them behind simply because no one else will fight for them. I fought for them. I had hoped you would, too.”

“I will. I do. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be happy as well.”

The Vagabond looked at the floor.

A twinge of regret shot through Kara. After all, that’s what the Vagabond had always deprived himself of—happiness. She wanted to apologize, but she’d meant what she said. She wasn’t trying to be mean…just honest.

The Vagabond sighed. “I didn’t handle our dispute very well. I’m sorry if I took it too far.”

She shook her head. “It’s all right, Vagabond. As mad as I was, I still wished you were there with me through everything that’s happened since. How much do you know? I didn’t have the Grimoire there for a while, and—”

“I never leave you, Kara. I can find you anywhere. I just can’t speak to you unless the Grimoire is near. I saw everything.”

“I wish you’d been able to help me when Gavin proposed, or when I was running away from Ayavel. I felt so alone.”