I should have gone back, talked it through with him, but I was young and afraid to fully trust anyone. I'd learned how dangerous it was, in my short years on this planet. And even though Grieve was standing there, heart on his sleeve, and I wanted to be with him, I knew that now wasn't the time. I'd never trust him fully at this point—or myself.
Run, but never forget. Never forget him, Cicely. At the right time, you will return and your love for him will be fully grown, mature, ready to make promises.
I hope so, Ulean. I shivered as I left the Golden Wood, my tears so dark they could not fall. It would be nine long years until I saw Grieve again, but I thought of him every day, and grew to understand just what I'd given up.
I closed my eyes and leaned against the shower stall. If only I'd stayed—could I have prevented the massacre out at the barrow? Could I have saved the Court of Rivers and Rushes? Could I have made a difference?
No. Ulean was firm. You could not have stopped Myst, and she might have destroyed you if you had tried. You were not so strong back then. You knew it wasn't the right time. You did what you needed to.
I shook my head. She was right. In the two years I wandered around alone after Krystal died, I'd grown even stronger, more independent.
Stepping out of the shower, I reached for the towel. When I thought about it, Krystal had, in her own fucked-up way, prepared me for this. She'd taught me to trust only myself, to stand on my own two feet.
I toweled off, wandering around my room. A picture of Heather and Krystal on my desk caught my attention. Doomed sisters, my aunt and my mother. Were Rhiannon and I doomed as well? Were we fated to unhappy ends, to lose our loves, perhaps even our lives?
You are at war. War is never easy, and seldom pretty. Ulean swept around me. Try to stay in the present. Looking forward can do more harm than good, and looking into the past will merely make you melancholy.
You're right. I will be strong. I won't let you—or my cousin or Grieve—down . . .
When I finally went downstairs, Rhiannon had left my breakfast on the counter. I could see her outside, sweeping the snow off the back steps.
Kaylin wandered into the room, dressed in camo cargo pants and a black wifebeater. His muscles were tight and defined, and he gave me a long look. "What have you been up to?"
I didn't feel like talking. For one thing, I wasn't sure what the hell had happened during my so-called dream. For another, even if I did, Kaylin would tell me what everybody else had: Forget Grieve, let him go and accept that Myst had won. And I couldn't do that.
"Looks like Rhiannon made breakfast." I slapped some toast and bacon on a plate, then added a hard-cooked egg and moved to the table.
Kaylin made an egg-and-cheese sandwich and joined me. "I heard about last night."
Jumpy, I jerked my head up. "Last night?" Had I been making noise?
"Yeah, Lannan and everything. You need to talk?"
"Oh, Lannan. Right." I was never sure what to think about Kaylin. He was 101 years old, a martial arts expert and computer geek, and he was also a dreamwalker. A night-veil demon had embedded itself into him, body and soul, while he was in the womb and had altered his very DNA. I thought he might be attracted to me, but I wasn't sure if that was just him trying to be friendly or what. When Kaylin wanted to help, he could ferret out extremely private information.
I swallowed a bite of toast and licked the melted butter off my fingers, then told him about Geoffrey's offer, and Lannan's reaction. "I don't know what to do. I don't want to be a vampire, so I'm not interested in Geoffrey's proposition. Nor do I want Lannan thinking he has some proprietary claim over me. I am indentured to the Crimson Court, not to him."
"You are walking a thin line. Lannan is not your master, but he holds the key to punishing you if you disobey Regina or Geoffrey. And he's very good about creating infractions where there are none. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, but I sure wish you'd insisted on Geoffrey overseeing you."
"Me, too." I played with the bread, then shrugged. "Nothing I can do except deal with him the best I can. One day, though, I'll stake him through the heart and that will be the end of Lannan Altos. But putting Perv Boy aside, I can't imagine how badly they are going to fuck this up. They already screwed things over once trying to infect the Indigo Court. Look at how their plan backfired. Now . . . another attempt?"
"Stupid, really. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. And this antidote is definitely in the ‘fool me twice' category. But we can't do anything to stop them. Talk down a group of vampires and a Fae Queen? I don't think so. We need them. And though Myst routed Lainule from her forest, the Queen of Rivers and Rushes is not to be trifled with."
"No, but neither is Myst. Chatter still has nightmares, he told me. The blood from Myst's routing of Lainule's people stained the barrow red. And remember, he's always been Grieve's best friend, and he had to leave him behind. The Shadow Hunters have unleashed a horror on New Forest, even if the town doesn't realize how much. Yet."
"Eat." Kaylin pointed to my dish. "We need all our strength because while they argue and plan in their mansions, we're the ones sitting on the edge of hell. Is Peyton coming over today?"
I nodded, finishing off my toast. "We're setting up the back parlor as my shop and her headquarters. We decided we might as well combine the two, especially since she's only going to be working a couple evenings a week for a while. She still needs to help Anadey in the diner."
"I think it's a great idea to join forces." He finished his breakfast and took my plate with his to the sink, where he ran a sudsy sponge over them. "So what's next?"
"Lainule and Geoffrey told me to go about my business as usual and to stay away from Grieve. I guess . . . we figure it out as we go along, since they don't seem interested in entertaining our suggestions. Mostly, we try to stay alive."
The doorbell rang and I hopped up to go answer. It was Peyton.
Half werepuma and half magic-born, she took a lot of crap from the lycanthropes around town. Werewolves hated the magic-born and heckled us whenever possible. Peyton's lineage was cause for ridicule in their circles, and she had endured a lifetime of it.
Peyton was half Native American; her father had run off years ago, leaving Anadey—a shamanic witch who used all four elements—and Peyton alone to fend for themselves. Peyton had grown up strong. Though soft-spoken, she was an expert in martial arts and she wanted to open a magical investigations agency.