Gods & Thieves

22. Cursed and Blessed

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Seething, I stomp across the Tik'al's lawns, making my way toward the Great Temple, leaving pretty shaman flowerbeds trampled. Like they care for these flowers. They care for nothing! Not even living people who trust them with all their open hearts.

As I notice a plainblood guard in the alley between the building ahead, I take another turn to avoid him--just as I did when I used to skulk here when I'd been stealing aura, only now I don't try to be quiet; my steps are heavy and deliberate, and I merely doing the guard a favor, really. I've spent almost all aura I had on steading myself on my way down the tower, yet I can still feel its power lingering inside me. Like a cold, restless blaze. I'm not sure I know how to keep it in check if someone confronts me, and my rage tonight is not meant for guards--or plainbloods.

Still, a tiny voice in my head wonders if I'm making a mistake. If I should run home instead, to Cale and Kofi and Ariane, and tell my siblings everything that happened to me. They won't break my heart, they'll understand. They might even still be able to save me.

I know my great-grandpa tried to save his brother from madness--it was he who came up with the alchemical recipe of the essence opposite of aura, depriving sorcerers of their power, and after my siblings and I found this recipe at the attic among other old things, we were planning to use exactly that to stop all shamans in Cabracan.

We haven't had a chance to try this essence on real shamans yet and still glitches in the experiments in vials, but maybe I can try it on myself now? Maybe not everything's lost for me yet?

My grandpa couldn't save his brother, though. Maybe he was too far gone, maybe it didn't work right. And if it still doesn't work right, I might lose my chance for revenge. I choose revenge. Besides, what if it's my madness speaking, right? Run home, seriously? I never run from a fight.

Determined now more than ever, I enter the high-ceiled hall of the Great Temple and head toward the living quarters, toward Loretto's apartments, encouraging myself with the thought of how I'll strangle Loretto in faer own bed. Naked, just as fae likes sleeping.

Perhaps I won't even need aura, for the effect of surprise of me showing up alive and disobedient will be quite enough. Oh, and I'd love to see surprise twisting Tayen's features, and shock, and terror, I'd love to hear faer begging me for faer life as I did, to witness the light fading from faer eyes...The last image makes me actually wince, my determination wavering. It's better not to turn the lanterns on, then. And not to think of it.

Adrenaline knots my muscles when I approach the apartment's door and close my hand around the doorknob for a beat before pulling it open. I'm ready for anything now--quiet and unsuspecting halls, an ambush from behind the door, a magical trap to parry...

"Finally, Eli. What took you so long?"

I freeze at the threshold.

"I was beginning to wonder if I should go to check up on you," continues Loretto, sitting at faer desk and casually pealing the orange I brought faer in the evening.

The lanterns in the living room are cozily on, three empty coffee cups on the desk. Loretto is still wearing the dirty robe soaked and dried messily after the rain, but there's a new ribbon around faer neck, and faer rings and cuffs are piled in a small silvery heap in the corner of the desk now, so Loretto's fingers and ears look unusually exposed and unguarded.

As I stay mute and frozen, Loretto's eyes measure me up and down again, noting my dumbstruck expression and muddy clothes and hands still balled in fists, and faer fingers stop peeling the orange.