Willing Sacrifice (10 page)

“If I take Grace out there with me, she could die.”

“If you do not, we all die. Including Grace.”

Torr searched for some way out but found none. The crushing blow of acceptance left him feeling weak and diminished. “Then I guess I have no choice.”

Her face sagged with weary sadness. “In that, we are the same.”

“I won’t forget this,” Torr warned.

“See that you do not. My next lesson will not be so gentle.” She pushed herself out of her chair, her body shaking with the effort. “Now go and prepare what you need to survive in the wilderness while I prepare Grace to find the crystals. You will leave at dawn.”

G
race didn’t dare ignore Brenya’s summons.

She grabbed a bowl of stew and hurried through the village, pretending there was no tingling in her ankle. There was no pain or weakness left, but healing was an exhausting process that doubtless strained Brenya’s already weakened state.

The dimness of the hut blinded her for a moment. She stood still, aware of the piles of books and trinkets crowding the space.

Brenya’s dwelling was the largest, but she’d filled it until there was hardly any room to move around without knocking something over. From the aged patina that darkened the metal, leather and paper objects in the hut, Grace guessed that most of the items Brenya kept were ancient and priceless.

“I brought you dinner,” Grace said as she waited for her eyes to adjust.

The space smelled of the spices and herbs Brenya used to concoct various potions, soaps and salves. In the back of Grace’s mind, she knew that there were places to buy those things, but she couldn’t remember ever seeing any. That was something from her old life, unimportant in the here and now.

“Sit,” ordered Brenya with a snap in her tone that had Grace scurrying to obey.

She set the bowl of soup on the only clear surface in the hut, right at Brenya’s elbow. The chair across the small table was filled with stacks of rolled paper, so Grace settled on the floor at Brenya’s feet.

She waved her hand toward the chair. “Sit there, child.”

Grace stood to move the paper, only to find that it had vanished. She didn’t ask where it had gone. The mood Brenya was in was one Grace knew too well, and the sooner she was able to leave, the better.

The older woman leaned back in her chair and set down the book she’d been holding. It looked like the pages were blank, but she didn’t have a pen or ink, so Grace had no idea what it was for.

“You will travel with Torr to find a weapon to fight the invasion.”

The mention of the stranger’s name sent a frisson of excitement racing down Grace’s spine. Her stomach trembled as it had when he’d carried her back to the village. She had to lock her fingers together to keep from fidgeting.

She didn’t know what it was about him that made her feel so odd, but she was starting to enjoy it. The mere idea of seeing him again was enough to make her squirm in her seat with anticipation.

Rather than ask when or why, Grace sat silently, waiting for Brenya to finish giving her orders.

“You will leave at dawn. You are not to walk off of any more cliffs or scare the young warrior again. His heart has already been battered enough.”

“How?” asked Grace before she could stop herself. The need to know more about him had overpowered her better judgment, and she winced, waiting for Brenya to punish her for interrupting.

“Does it matter? Is it not enough to know that his soul is bruised and that you should do everything in your power to soothe it rather than add to his pain?”

“Of course, Brenya. I’m sorry.”

“Males are powerful, but they are also delicate. Their pride is easily damaged. You must take care not to injure it, or you will rile the beast within.”

Genuine fear took hold of her, tightening her throat until her words were pitiful squeaks. “I won’t let him hurt me. I’ll run, far and fast.”

“Torr would never hurt you, child. Not in the way you mean. But, like all males of his kind, he carries a predator within. A fierce protector who will not allow his woman to put herself in danger. That is the beast you must be wary of—the one that will bare its teeth and cage you for your own safety.”

Grace heard all the words, but two of them echoed in her mind, over and over. “I’m not his woman.” The idea was compelling. Thrilling. But also impossible.

Brenya paused, as if thinking carefully about her words before she spoke. “For the purpose of this journey, he will treat you as such. I would demand no less from your protector.”

“Are you sure he will agree?”

“He will do as I command. As will you.” Even as weary as Brenya looked, she still reeked of power—power Grace would probably never understand.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Torr will guide you through the journey, but it will be your job to seek the portal the Masons build even now. Once you find it and are sure the Masons have left this world, you will destroy it.”

“I will? How?”

“There is a place on the far side of the southern village. In it are large black stones. Deep within those stones are the weapons you need to destroy the portal.”

“Is there a map?”

Brenya leaned forward and grasped the sides of Grace’s face in her hands. Her skin was warm and dry, like sunlit parchment. A familiar scent lingered on her shaggy clothes, lulling Grace into a drowsy, relaxed state.

“You already have the map, child. I gave it to you years ago, never once thinking I would need to awaken it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know. I had hoped to save you from what I took from you, but it was not to be. There can be no voids in you. They are unnatural and must be filled.”

Grace frowned and tried to shake her head, but Brenya’s grip held her still. “What voids?”

“Once I awaken the knowledge you need, the hole it once filled will be empty. You will reopen the memory that used to live in that hole. For that I am truly sorry.”

Power seethed just below Brenya’s skin. Grace could feel it thrashing against her, seeking entrance. Her head started to throb, and her stomach lurched with sickening intent.

She grabbed Brenya’s hands, trying to pry them away from her head, but it was no use. The older woman was too strong, despite her fragile appearance.

“Stop,” begged Grace. “You’re scaring me.”

Brenya’s eyes brightened, frothing and frosty. “You are not yet scared, child. But you will be.”

G
race hid in the pantry, covering her stepbrother’s mouth. Soapsuds dripped from her fingers, making Blake’s skin slippery.

She’d been washing dishes when her stepfather had sloshed up the driveway, taking out one of Mom’s rosebushes. There hadn’t been time to dry her hands before Mom shoved her and Blake into hiding, fearing the worst.

“He won’t find you if you’re quiet,” Mom said.

The fight started like it always did. His voice raised in anger, Mom’s quiet with humble apology for something she probably hadn’t even done.

Grace wanted to shout at him and force him to back the hell off, but she was a scrawny fourteen-year-old and completely outclassed. Jerry Norman was strong when he was sober. Drunk, he was strong and mean.

The fight escalated until his enraged bellowing took over, nearly drowning out the sound of fists meeting flesh, toppled furniture and muffled, hopeless sobs. One more loud clatter and the house fell silent.

Grace quivered in fear and anger, physically restraining Blake from rushing out after Mom. When Jerry was like this, there was nothing a seven-year-old could do but accumulate more bruises and broken bones.

Footsteps came closer, too loud to be Mom’s. The refrigerator opened, spilling a sliver of light in through the gap under the pantry door. There was the hiss of a beer being opened and the metallic clatter of the cap hitting the floor. Heavy footsteps went back the way they’d come.

Grace waited for Mom to come get them, to tell them that the worst was over. She would wipe away any blood and hide her face, but Grace would see the pain in the way Mom walked, in the way her shoulders hunched or the way she held her ribs.

Blake pried her hand away. “Let me go.”

“Not yet. You know the rules. We stay here until Mom comes,” she whispered.

Jerry would be asleep soon and they’d all be safe for a few hours. Grace would help Mom clean up, get her an ice pack and pray that this time would be different.

Too much time passed. Jerry’s snores sounded from upstairs, shaking the thin walls.

Grace let Blake go and opened the door. “Be quiet.”

“I know,” he snapped in a tone so much like his father that it terrified her.

He was a few steps in front of her when he came to a sudden halt outside the kitchen doorway. There, lying on the crumpled remains of the coffee table, was Mom. One arm was bent awkwardly behind her. Blood dripped from her chin onto the carpet.

Grace stood frozen, unable to make sense of what she saw.

This wasn’t how things went. Mom was supposed to get up and tell them it was all going to be okay. She was supposed to make excuses for the pitiful man she’d married—the only father Grace had ever known.

He’ll never do it again. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have made him angry.
Those were the words Mom was supposed to say now—the lies she always told. And believed.

Blake rushed to Mom’s side, shaking her. “Wake up!”

His voice was too frantic. Too loud. He was going to wake up Jerry, and his next target was always Grace.

“Shh,” she hissed. In that moment, shame consumed her. Her mother lay unconscious on the floor, and all she could think about was what Jerry would do to her if Blake woke him up.

She didn’t dare cross the room. She couldn’t stand knowing the truth. Not yet. Right now, she could still pretend that everything was going to be okay, that Mom would get up and their lives would go on like they always had.

She dialed 911 with numb fingers and held Mom’s hand while they waited for help to arrive.

Jerry never woke up to help, not even when the paramedics carried Mom away.

Grace opened her eyes and saw Brenya’s sad face.

“What did you do to me?” whispered Grace. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and that deep, aching sense of shame and loss clung to her.

“I released the knowledge you needed. The space it emptied had to be filled with something else, so I let you see what was always yours.”

“Those were my memories,” said Grace, knowing it was true. She could remember every heartbreaking minute of that night, how the doctor had come out and told them that Mom was never going to wake up again. How Jerry had told Grace that if she reported what he’d done, both she and Blake would go live in foster care and probably never see each other again. He’d told her he would get help, be a better father.

Like Mom, Grace had believed him because she’d wanted to.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “How did you give me back my memory?”

“I gave you nothing. You took it. For that, I am sorry. Some things are best left forgotten.”

Those words made sense now in a way they never had before. Grace could remember every moment of fear, anger and grief from that night. The rest was still a dark void with no more than fluttering shadows taunting her.

She had a mother, a brother. His was the face she’d seen in her dreams. At least now she knew his name. She also knew how much she’d loved both Mom and Blake. That alone was a tremendous gift, even as mixed with pain and loss as it had been.

Grace had a family. She wasn’t completely alone. They were humans like her, and they’d loved her despite her weaknesses.

That knowledge was a precious gift that helped balance out the dark burden of the memory itself.

“Are there more memories I can see?” she asked.

“The more important question is whether or not you know where to find the crystals.”

Grace opened her mouth to say no, but the knowledge was there, clear and certain. “I do.”

“Good. Then tonight’s work is done.”

“But there’s so much more I want to know. What happened to my mother? Where is Blake?”

“Not tonight. I am weary. Leave me and go rest for your journey.” It wasn’t a request.

Arguing with Brenya wasn’t an option, and Grace really did worry about the older woman’s health. As much as the need for more memories burned inside Grace, she knew she would get nowhere tonight. It was best to do as she was told and bring it up another day.

She left the hut, still reeling from what she’d seen.

She had a family out there somewhere.

She looked up at the sky, wondering if she would ever see them again. Were they even alive?

Dark had fallen, and the nighttime animals had come out to play. Their chattering comforted her, making her feel grounded in reality. Wherever she’d been before in her memory—in a house she couldn’t remember—she was here now, in the world she knew and understood.

The scent of dirt and leaves rose from the ground. Warm, humid air wrapped around her limbs, but it did little to drive away the chill just beneath her skin. The longer she turned the memory over in her mind, the more she realized what it meant.

This man who’d brutalized her mother and terrified her and her brother had shaped her life. She couldn’t remember him clearly, but he still had control over her.
He
was the reason she flinched and shied away from displays of anger.
He
was the reason she would hide under the covers, afraid of some nameless threat in the night. Even from a distance of both time and space, he shaped her.

The idea that she let it happen gave her a rare surge of anger.

She had to walk this off, shed the oily film of fury that left ugly streaks across her insides.

She wasn’t like Jerry. Never would be. Now that she knew he existed, it was time to take away any lingering control he had over her.

There was no conscious thought to her path. Only habit guided her steps as she walked blindly along the edge of the village.

It wasn’t until strong hands circled her arms that she realized that she’d almost walked right into Torr.

“Whoa—I said your name three times. Where were you?” he asked.

“Sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Maybe she had. Was her family still alive? Were they looking for her?

His thumbs stroked her skin, calming her a bit. Some of the shaky fear and anger trickled out of her, giving her a little room to breathe.

“Something’s wrong,” he said. “You talked to Brenya, didn’t you?”

Grace nodded as she looked up at him. Once again she was struck by the beauty of the band around his throat. For a second, she forgot all about her own thoughts, which helped ease some of her roiling emotions.

From the necklace, her eyes naturally wandered to the skin beneath it and the strong lines of his neck. She’d been cradled close to him only a few hours ago, and she could still recall his scent and the way it made her whole body relax and grow languid.

His expression hardened. “Did she upset you? If she did, I’ll—”

Grace instinctively pressed her hand against his chest to calm his anger. “No, it’s not that. I mean, she did, but it wasn’t her fault.”

“Of course it was her fault. That woman has got to stop playing queen and start thinking before she speaks.” His tone was getting sharper, angrier.

Grace took a step back, shoving herself away from him. His body didn’t even sway. “Stop it,” she said, surprising herself with the force of her words. “Brenya saved my life. She can talk to me however she likes.”

“Okay,” he said, more gently. He lifted his hands, palms out, completely nonthreatening. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“She gave me back my memory,” she said. “Well, I guess she didn’t give it. I took it, but it feels like the same thing to me.”

His face lit up, gleaming with a kind of hope she couldn’t understand. “You remember?”

She nodded. “I have a brother. A family.”

“What else do you remember?
Who
else?”

“A doctor whose name I don’t know. Maybe I never did. And a stepfather who I wish I’d never known.”

Hope fell from his expression, leaving behind a bleak stare. “No one else?”

“No. Why? Do you know something I don’t?”

His lips clamped shut until all the blood was pushed from them. He looked like he ached to say something, but instead he turned around and started walking away.

Grace grabbed his arm. The instant her fingertips touched his skin, he rocked to a halt. She swung in front of him just in time to see him close his eyes and brace himself. For what, she wasn’t sure.

“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked.

After what seemed like a long time, he finally opened his eyes and looked down at her. In the darkness, his amber gaze seemed to glow, catching flickering bits of torchlight along the path.

“I’m glad you remembered your family. That’s got to feel good.”

He hadn’t answered her question, but at least he wasn’t running away after she’d snapped at him. “I wish I knew more about them. I don’t even know if they’re still alive. What if they’re looking for me?”

“Are you happy here?”

“Mostly.”

“Then you’re doing everything you can to ease any worries your family or friends might have. Given the circumstances, that’s going to have to be enough.”

“But I want to find them.”

“What does Brenya say about that?”

“She shooed me away before we could really talk about it.”

“That should tell you something.”

“She’s tired. That’s all.”

His brows lifted in disbelief. “Then I guess you’ll have to talk to her about it tomorrow.”

“You and I are supposed to go hunting for some crystals tomorrow.”

A swift flash of anger tightened his features before he controlled it. Instinctively, Grace backed up out of reach.

At least now she knew why she did that—it was something her stepfather had taught her. Still, she hated it that he had any influence over her at all.

“I would never hurt you, Grace,” he said, disappointment softening his tone.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“Never mind. It’s not about me.” He ran his fingers through his dark hair, leaving it messy.

The urge to undo the damage ran through her, but she kept her hands to herself. She really didn’t know him well enough to be touching him every time the mood struck. Which it did often.

“I’ll try harder not to flinch.”

“You do whatever you need to do to feel safe, Grace. I mean that.”

“I don’t think ‘safe’ is going to be on the menu for a while. We have to go out tomorrow, and who knows how many of those Hunters are out there?”

If the way his skin darkened was any indication, he really didn’t like that idea. “Do you know where the crystals are?”

“I do now.”

“Tell me,” he ordered.

Her instincts were to obey a command given in that kind of forceful tone, but when she opened her mouth to comply, there were no words. “I don’t know how to tell you. I can see a picture in my head as clear as if I were looking at it now, but it’s just an image.” And a feeling that she needed to head south. “I think it’s one of those things I’m going to have to show you.”

“In a perfect world, I’d be able to see what’s in your head.”

She wasn’t sure how, but she didn’t ask. It was either one of those things she’d forgotten or one she’d never known because she was human. “But it’s not a perfect world. And as much as I’d rather stay here where it’s safe, I’m glad that neither one of us has to go out there alone.”

His hand lifted as though he was going to reach for her, but it fell to his side before he could. “There’s no one I’d rather be with, but you’re the absolute last person I want to take out there with me.”

Now it was her turn to have her feelings hurt. “It’s because I can’t fight, isn’t it?”

“If you were the fiercest warrior on the planet, I’d still want you to stay where it’s safe.”

“Nowhere is really safe. Animals make their way into the village all the time.” After seeing him fight, she was sure that the safest place around was right by his side. But she was going to slow him down. “You know, you could show me a few moves, maybe help me prove to the other women—and you—that I’m not a complete weakling.”

“You shouldn’t feel the need to prove anything.”