The Poisoned Veil (Accessory to Magic Book 4) Page 15

  Leandras nodded slowly. “And the Peddler was successful.”

  “I guess. Until I became the Guardian and this place started freaking out because I wasn’t whole.” With the bulk of her story laid out on the table for both of them to clearly see and scrutinize however they wanted, Jessica couldn’t figure out how she felt.

  Half of her was relieved to have finally gone down this road from beginning to end—to have finally let it off her chest even though she’d been living eight years without any memory of it at all. The other half of her felt like she’d just tied a noose around her own neck by exposing herself to Leandras, of all the magicals who could have been willing to listen. He had her in a corner now, if he wanted to use this against her.

  All of it could be used against her.

  “A memory wipe like that should have been impossible to reverse,” Leandras muttered.

  “Yeah, well, lizards aren’t supposed to be immortal or have healing powers, either.” She shook her head and stared at her fists in her lap. “When he healed me, it wasn’t just the physical part. It was...everything.”

  Everything but her magic, but Leandras already knew the rest of that story. He’d helped her finish it.

  The fae man turned, his gaze trailing across the floor, up the chipped nightstand with a single drawer knocked loose, and finally looked Jessica in the eye. “That was weeks ago.”

  “Yep.”

  “And it didn’t seem important to divulge the details of a Brúkii having found the trail again when your memories returned?”

  She leaned away from him. “Oh, so now you’re blaming me?”

  “Jessica...”

  “Thanks. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to tell you.” Kicking off the sheets twisted around her legs, she shoved herself toward the edge of the bed and reeled when a wave of sudden dizziness washed over her. She slapped a hand against the wall to steady herself, then took off toward the bathroom.

  “Jessica, that’s not what—”

  “Forget it. You can leave now. I’m fine.”

  “If you give me a moment to—”

  “I’ve already given you enough. Get out.” Jessica stormed into the bathroom, her heart pounding, and reached for the door to slam it shut.

  But there was no door. She’d ripped it off its hinges and tossed it across the room in her sleep, and now her juvenile outburst didn’t even have a final note to end on.

  With nowhere else to go and no physical door to shut, Jessica whirled away from the doorway and slammed her hands down on the counter. The Formica cracked beneath her palms and the flare of black smoke bursting out from under them.

  Bad idea. The whole thing was a bad idea.

  ‘Any worse than throwing a tantrum?’

  Shut up.

  ‘Just tell him why you didn’t bring it up.’

  He doesn’t give a shit. You heard him. All he cares about is why I didn’t tell him before now. I don’t need to know anything else.

  ‘You need to let it go!’ The bank’s growl clambered around inside her head. ‘You need to quit being so stubborn and accept the help coming your way.’

  Why?

  ‘Because I can’t give it to you!’

  The small pinch in the back of her head made her gasp. The bank was gone now. Not completely, and most likely not for the next day and a half or however long they had until the Gateway opened up and she escorted Leandras through it like a goddamn chauffeur.

  If they were even still going. If the Brúkii who’d finally found her in her dreams came back again tomorrow night to finish the job.

  He would. She had no doubt.

  Leandras had somehow snapped her out of the last nightmare that would probably have killed her first. But if he’d made up his mind to now blame her for not having said anything sooner, he’d leave. And then her chances of surviving long enough to cross through the giant portal right outside her room were finished.

  Chapter 16

  Leandras let out a heavy sigh, and the floorboards creaked under his weight as he stood and walked across the room.

  This was it.

  This was the part where Jessica was left alone, again, to pick up the pieces of her own damned mess because she still couldn’t figure out when to show her cards and when to keep her mouth shut.

  She slowly looked up at her reflection in the mirror, and the sight brought a strangled sob to her lips.

  That reflection was a joke.

  Everything Jessica Northwood thought she’d been or was now or would be was a lie, because she couldn’t get it right. How many chances had she been given to change? To be anything more than a terrified girl on the run doing what she had to do to survive?

  The list was long, but the outcome was always the same. She screwed it up every time, and then she just kept running. Only now, the Brúkii had centered in on her mind while she slept, and there was nowhere to run anymore. This was the end.

  A shadow darkened in the bathroom doorway, and Jessica’s gaze flickered toward the reflection of Leandras standing there and staring at her.

  She looked quickly away and scowled at the counter.

  How the hell had she not noticed until right now that he’d raced up here in the middle of the night without a shirt or shoes? Why the fuck did it even matter?

  “Jessica.”

  “You can go,” she spat through clenched teeth. “I get it. I don’t want to deal with this shit, so why should you?”

  “I wasn’t blaming you.” He didn’t move, but somehow, she felt his gaze on her through the mirror’s reflection.

  She couldn’t look at him. Her arms trembled again as they held her up over the counter, and she could barely stand to look at herself.

  “I phrased that question poorly, and I apologize.” The fae’s voice was low, soft, tender.

  Why did it have to sound so real?

  “I merely wish to understand. If your memories fully returned weeks ago and the Brúkii found you again, by all accounts, you should be dead by now.”

  A bitter laugh burst from her lips. “I should’ve been dead a thousand times over already. Maybe more. Who knows?”

  “The only thing that interests me now is that you’re still here. And how.”

  Swallowing thickly, Jessica lifted a shaking hand from the countertop and gestured toward her head. “The bank.”

  When she risked a quick glance at Leandras’ reflection, the complete bafflement on his face was only too clear.

  “You know it’s in my head.”

  “Yes.”

  “It put up some kind of wall around my memories. Like a ward. I don’t know. I guess it took a few weeks for that...for the Brúkii to find me in my dreams.”

  For the monster to finally narrow in on its prey and come to collect what it wanted ten years ago. Lilith Gray and her power.

  For a moment, neither of them spoke. Whatever Leandras decided to do with her now—or not do with her, which was most likely the case—it didn’t matter. Jessica couldn’t even figure out what to do with herself and the giant hole she’d dug without even knowing it.

  “I’ve underestimated both of you,” Leandras said.

  She scoffed, but it was weak and unconvincing. “Yeah, so did I. And now—”

  “Now we both know what has to be done.” He stepped slowly into the bathroom, and she couldn’t help but look up at his reflection growing larger and closer.

  The curved top of one of his own purple glowing runes shimmered over his right shoulder. Another glimmer of purple light rose from beneath the waistband of his dress slacks along his left hip, where the muscle and bone dipped away into one of those perfect Vs Jessica had admired in a ridiculous number of magicals who’d joined her in her bedroom at one time or another.

  None of them had been here at the bank, of course. None of them had been a fae who’d crossed through a portal from another world with the last wave of magicals fleeing into this one. None of them had heard the story she’d thought would kill h
er to tell.

  Why the hell was she comparing any of them now?

  She stared at her own reflection instead, both hating what she saw and loving it with a bittersweet pride now that she knew exactly how many broken pieces made up the whole.

  Leandras stopped just behind her and settled his hand on her shoulder. Jessica flinched but didn’t pull away, and when he slid his cool hand down her arm, a shuddering ripple of chills and something like relief made her suck in a sharp breath.

  “I can help with the dreams, Jessica.”

  Her gaze flickered up to meet his in the mirror.

  “It’s not something I would recommend under most circumstances, but I do believe this is an exception.”

  More damn tears welled in her eyes, and she cursed herself for them.

  The gentle pressure on her arm increased, but Jessica stood firmly against it. She couldn’t turn around.

  “Look at me.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” she whispered.

  “Jessica.” He pulled her arm toward him again, and she turned halfway, staring at the corner of the bathroom instead of him. “Look at me.”

  What was she doing?

  She should have blasted him out of her bedroom the second he’d woken her up. She should have kept the rest clamped up tight in a vice, just like she always had. Opening up meant exposing herself. Exposing herself meant she couldn’t hide anymore. Not from the Brúkii, not from the magicals on this side trying to get their hands on the Gateway, not from the fae man standing in front of her and offering more compassion than she’d met since she was a kid.

  It definitely meant she couldn’t hide from herself.

  Jessica slowly lifted her gaze and didn’t know what to think when she found nothing but a steady determination in Leandras’ eyes instead of the anger, regret, or even terrified urgency she expected.

  “This Brúkii is not the first I’ve dealt with,” he said. “I will help you handle it. But we must handle it together until the Hruandir is complete and we step through. Otherwise—”

  “I know what happens otherwise,” she muttered. “Trust me, no matter what it looks like most of the time, I’m not actually trying to get myself killed.”

  His eyebrows flickered upward, joined by a tiny smile. “I believe you. And if I’d known...”

  Leandras removed his hand from her arm and swallowed.

  “What? You mean you never would’ve tried to swindle me into kicking off the reckoning in the first place?”

  The fae’s small smile disappeared. “You’re not the only one who wishes they had made different choices in the past.”

  “Yeah, hindsight’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

  They stared at each other for a moment, and she couldn’t help but crack a bitter, accepting smile of her own.

  At least she could be funny and serious at the same time with that one.

  And it seemed to hit Leandras with the same level of irony when he hummed an uncertain laugh. Then he lifted a hand to tuck her disheveled hair behind one ear and shook his head. “None of this would be possible without you. You have to know that.”

  “Some other Guardian would’ve shown up, and someone else would’ve taken the job. Don’t try to convince me I’m special.”

  “I don’t need to.” He leaned toward her, his gaze dropping for a brief moment to her lips.

  No ozone smell. No messing with her head this time. Just Jessica and a shirtless fae man standing in her bathroom after she’d almost torn the bank to shreds in her sleep before revisiting the one night that had sparked a ten-year journey to this moment.

  The last thing she needed was to get tangled up with him physically while they were already tangled up magically.

  Leandras seemed to realize that too a second before he leaned away and cleared his throat. “If the sentience of this establishment has any power to help me gather what I need, I’ll prepare a remedy for your dreams.”

  Wow. Okay, so it was right back to business, then.

  Jessica leaned back against the counter and sighed. “I don’t even know if you’ll find what you need in here. The inventory isn’t exactly catalogued.”

  “I’ll find it. Though a bit of assistance would go a long way.”

  “Yeah, um...” She rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes.

  You hear that, bank? Any help with the fae’s shopping list?

  The bank offered no reply. Maybe it had still withdrawn from her mind to go do whatever sentient buildings did when they were pouting. Maybe it was still there and just didn’t feel like answering.

  “I don’t know about getting any help from the bank.” She shot Leandras a quick glance and had to look away again. “I’ll just come down and help—”

  “No.” The fae shook his head and looked her over. “You need to rest.”

  “Leandras, if I rest, I’ll fall asleep. What time is it?”

  He glanced at his forearm, but apparently, he’d left his watch with his shoes and shirt. “My best estimation would be somewhere around the middle of the night.”

  She snorted. “Okay. Even more reason for me to come help you.”

  He bit his lip and frowned. “I’ll agree to let you come downstairs with me if you accept the compromise of resting down there instead.”

  “You’ll let me?”

  The fae blinked in surprise. “I merely meant—”

  “No, sure. I get it.” Jessica raised her eyebrows and slipped past him, nudging his bare arm with the back of a hand. “You saved the vestrohím in distress from a killer nightmare. Literally. You’re feeling heroic and in charge.”

  “That’s not—”

  “I’ll play along. It’s fine. Maybe I’ll heat up some pizza rolls or something.”

  She crossed her bedroom littered with chunks of wood and plaster and a pile of stuffing that had fallen out of the destroyed couch.

  “Pizza what?”

  With a barely contained smirk, Jessica stopped at her bedroom door and turned to look over her shoulder at the stunned fae. “You might have a bunch of different properties and names and fancy suits. Hell, you can teleport. But if you haven’t tasted the cheap, processed, impossible-to-cook disaster of pizza rolls, I can tell you right now you’ve missed out on a major part of being on Earth in this century.”

  He cocked his head and took two tentative steps out of the bathroom. “How...”

  “Give me forty-five minutes. You’ll see.” Jessica left her room and headed down the stairs. Only then did she bother to smooth her hair away from her face and try to force it back down into something that didn’t make her look like a complete psycho.

  It almost felt like the last hour hadn’t happened.

  Almost.

  Only now, she was up in the middle of the night about to cook pizza rolls for the Laen’aroth, whatever that name meant. And Leandras was about to make her some kind of potion most circumstances didn’t warrant, except for hers.

  In the next day and a half, if the Brúkii on her trail didn’t find her and suck the magic out of her before he consumed her soul next, they still had a chance at stepping through the Gateway first to play a life-and-death scavenger hunt on the other side.

  As long as what waited for them there didn’t kill them first.

  An hour later, Jessica sat in the rolling office chair beside the desk, watching Leandras sift through the piles of junk on the lobby shelves beneath the bright lights. He’d put his shirt back on, at least, but hadn’t bothered with shoes. The pile of pizza rolls on the plate beside her had finally stopped steaming, so she grabbed one and took a tentative bite.

  Immediately, she jerked the thing out of her mouth and growled before tossing the fried nugget filled with scalding tomato sauce onto the desk.

  Every damn time.

  “What is it?” Leandras turned toward her with wide eyes, his arm outstretched toward whatever odd magical thing he’d been reaching for.

  “Nothing.” Jessica wiped the splatter of sauce off he
r mouth and nodded at the plate. “Still hot. It’s always a tossup.”

  He raised an eyebrow, glanced at the pizza rolls, then returned to his perusing of the merchandise.

  ‘Just tell me one thing,’ the bank mused.

  Hey. You’re back.

  ‘I never actually left. You should know that by now with your magic all up inside you and no more secrets clogging up the machinery.’

  She frowned and glanced at the ceiling in confusion.

  ‘Out of all the things to be enjoyed by a body that moves and keeps itself running with the occasional refueling too many times a day, why the hell is your first choice a steaming pile of crap?’

  Jessica forced back a laugh and sat back in her chair.

  That’s a pretty accurate description, honestly.

  ‘Not an answer, witch. And don’t tell me it’s because you almost died and realized how much you regret not eating enough of those. It’s not the first time you slipped past your own stupidity to live another day. But for crying out loud, that is not a celebration.’

  No. It’s a statement.

  The bank scoffed. ‘Of what, exactly?’

  That I’m still here.

  That nothing had changed despite feeling the exact opposite now that Leandras was one of two living magicals in this world who knew who she truly was.

  That she’d become the Guardian even when a Brúkii with a decade-long bone to pick thought he’d found her to get what he wanted.

  That Jessica still owned Winthrop & Dirledge Security Banking, had still staked her claim over that dungeon door upstairs, and continued to claim her own choices for the future. No matter what she might have done up to this point.

  ‘And you do that with a pile of fried lava? I mean, is that even real food?’

  It got me through a lot of tight spots, okay?

  ‘Do you see how much space I have inside me? Come on, witch. Just the smell is worse than the stink bomb that fae set off before funneling it all into a rock.’

  She bit her lip and couldn’t contain a small chuckle.

  “At least someone finds this amusing,” Leandras grumbled as he swiped aside another pile of junk.

  “No, I wasn’t laughing at you.”