Chapter 45

ChapterForty-Five

He was... floating? No, that wasn’t quite it. But there was no weight to his form, and Alistair was so certain there should be weight. He should feel heavy and grounded, no matter where he went.

Blinking his eyes open, he expected to look up at a glass ceiling with stars overhead. That’s where he had been, at least. But there was no glass, no smell of plants, no sounds of other people. Just a distant skyline of stars that appeared a little too large and a little too close.

This wasn’t right.

He’d been standing in front of Thea, and so sure that he... he... Had he been dying? Alistair remembered a wrenching pain twisting through his stomach and then a gurgle of breath fluttering out of his throat. He couldn’t have died, though. Even in his worst moments, he’d never thought he would leave her first.

An uneasy tension settled onto him like a second skin. Wherever he was, he had to find Thea. He had to tell her he was all right because he didn’t feel like he was dead.

Sitting up, he put a hand to his forehead as a headache bloomed behind his eyes. The pounding lance of pain distracted him for a few moments, but then his surroundings made the pain melt away.

He was sitting in a puddle of water, but the water extended as far as his eyes could see. It was just a flat, shallow... something? Not a lake by any means. And not a river because the water didn’t move. It reflected the too-large stars above him and made it appear that he was sitting in the middle of a galaxy.

Definitely not where he had passed out. And not where he’d expected to wake up.

“Uh,” he said through a dry mouth. “Hello?”

His words echoed, bouncing around him until he couldn’t tell if someone else was returning his call or if he only heard himself. But his soul screamed that he wasn’t alone. The eerie feeling of being watched lifted the hairs on his arms.

He stuck his hands in the water to push himself upright, only to find that he couldn’t move once he did that. His entire body froze as though waiting for some miraculous moment, and then... then...

The world parted in front of him.

A woman’s hand moved through the strange veil of starlight and pushed it aside as though she were a performer entering a stage. The curtain even wrinkled at her touch, warping the light of the stars, and then she slipped into this realm without giving him even a slight glimpse of what was hidden behind the fabric of the world.

His first impression was that she was tall. Taller than any woman he’d ever seen before. Eight feet, perhaps, with hair like fire. She wore a simple white gown tied at her waist with a small plaid tartan. The colors looked familiar, although he couldn’t pinpoint why. Her bare feet sent no ripples over the water, although he could see her touching the water. She moved with a purpose and intent.

Then he looked at her face and couldn’t look anywhere else. Her features seemed to shift between three different beings: one kind, one confident, and one stern. And, as she knelt in front of him, all that shifted to the face of kindness.

“Alistair,” she said, her voice deep and raspy. “You’ve awakened.”

“Where am I?” he asked, but it wasn’t the first question he wanted to ask.

She chuckled, and the sound made ripples around them. And here he had thought the environment didn’t react to her presence. Her billowing red hair shifted as though there was a breeze, but he couldn’t feel any movement on his skin at all.

“Do you want to know where you are?” she asked. “Or do you want to know who I am?”

“Both.”

“You can only ask for one.” Her voice had deepened with humor. “But, because you’ve had a trying day, I will say that I believe you already know who I am.”

His mind whirled with the possibilities. He’d been dead, hadn’t he? An angel then? No, he didn’t believe that someone like him would have an angel visiting him upon death, which meant she had to be... to be...

“Brighid,” he whispered in awe. “Daughter of Dagda. Goddess of Spring.”

She nodded, and suddenly, he knew where they were as well. This was the realm in between. Not quite in her realm of the fae and not quite in his, either. Looking around, he noted that a few scholars had claimed to be here, and they had all described the same phenomenon. It was a place but not a place, with a sea that was not a sea.

“Are we in the Between?” he asked. “That must be where we are.”

“Astute and quick, even while dying.” She leaned back on her haunches. “You’re impressive, Alistair Orbweaver.”

“But why am I here?”

“I brought you here after the poison stopped your heart. There are fae waiting in your realm to bring you back to life if you so choose. They are keeping you here before your soul can move on to whatever afterlife awaits you mortals.” She looked at him expectantly.

She must have known he’d have more questions. One, in particular, that meant so much.

He wanted to ask a thousand of them. Surely there had to be a reason for the fae to have stopped him from dying. Thea must be worried sick about him, and he’d left her alone with those monstrous fools from the Academy. How long had he been dying? Was his body already in a hospital, and she was... where was she?

He corralled his thoughts into one section of questions. “Why are you keeping me alive?”

“Because you kept your promise. All those years ago, when you spoke with a fae I sent you, you said you would keep us safe.” She touched a finger to his jaw and tilted his head, so he had to stare into her eyes. “You were given every opportunity to create an object or spell that would let them see us. You didn’t. Even at the cost of your own life.”

“I am a man of my word,” he said, although that wasn’t the reason why he’d done it. Finally, he relented. “The fae have done so much for me. I wouldn’t give you up to the Academy for anything.”

She smiled at him. “Because you have a soft spot for those of us who are different.”

“It’s more than that. The fae are my family. When my father and brothers were cruel, I always found solace with the creatures who lived in my house. You and your kind are not gods or even fae to me. You’re home.”

“That is why this is your choice. Do you wish to live, or would you like to rest?”

It wasn’t a question. “I want to be with her.”

The softness in her gaze turned to something like warmth, and her face shifted to that sage expression that he knew was the form of her that was a goddess. The wisdom in her eyes burned through him. “As a reward for your loyalty and honesty, Alistair Orbweaver, I spare your life. You will be sent back to the mortal realm and to the woman you love. May you continue to honor the bond between our kinds.”

It was all he’d ever wanted and more. She was so kind as to do this, but... there was still more to say.

As Brighid stood and walked toward the curtain once more, he called out, “Wait!”

She paused, still standing before him but not turning around. “What is it?”

“How do I help the domovoy who lives in my house?” He had to know if there was a way to save the poor creature. “My father tortured him and so far, nothing I have done has helped it. My gut says that creature is at the heart of why I am bound to the house. If I could leave it and this city, then I could help more fae creatures. Please.”

She turned with an arched brow at his words. “Even now, when you are dying, you ask to help the fae?”

“I have dedicated my life to you and your people. Why would I not ask now how to help him?” His cheeks burned. “Besides, if I can help him, then I suppose I might help myself.”

“You are more intelligent than I thought,” she said with a laugh. “Child of Balthazar Orbweaver, you can heal the domovoy with his wife.”

“His wife?”

“You haven’t noticed her?” Brighid shrugged. “She’s been under your stove for years. Household spirits sometimes find their other half as well, little mortal. The kikimora who hides beneath your stove and nips at the toes of your housekeeper is the domovoy’s bride. She won’t come out until she’s certain it’s safe, and he won’t let you leave until you help him.”

Of course. The domovoy had a bride, and that was why he wouldn’t come out of the room that Thea had given him. He was waiting for his bride to face her fears as well.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” he muttered. “Of course, there’s a reason he’s staying in the house.”

“And the domovoy will take your bindings with him,” Brighid said. “Your father couldn’t bind you to the house because that is simply not possible for one to do to the living. A house has no soul to bind. But he could bind you to something that he knew you would never release because he’d made it sound so terrifying to face.”

“Until Thea came back into my life.”

“Precisely why your father never wanted you around her. He knew she gave you a strength he couldn’t fight against.” The goddess grinned, and the expression was feral. “Women have a way of doing that to men. Your father was terrified of us.”

One of the few things his father was terrified of, then. He should be thankful that there were women out there who followed in Brighid’s footsteps. “Thank you, goddess.”

“You may call me Brighid, Alistair. After all you’ve done for us, I think you’ve earned that much. Now go back to your beautiful bride. And I suspect she will be your bride soon, won’t she?”

He knew a hint when he heard one. Brighid had made her point loud and clear. The goddess wanted them together, and she would stop at nothing to see that happen. For once, he wouldn’t argue with one of the fae.

Alistair inclined his head and watched as the goddess pulled back the folds of the world. Beyond, he could see the faerie realm. Blue leaves with twinkling stars glistening on their razor-sharp edges. Tall Tuatha De Danaan waiting for her. And Bres, her husband, trying to catch a glimpse of Alistair beyond her.

Someday, he hoped he would see their realm. He wanted to walk into it, just once. Not only to see their kind but to experience how they lived. The honor would be his, of course, but he would never forget such a sight.

Then the curtain fell, and he was alone in that galaxy of strangeness. Lifting his hand from the water, he watched drops fall from his fingertips. Every drop contained its own small galaxy, and he was so enraptured by the sight. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the stars, even though he wanted to.

Alistair took a deep breath and let it out in time with the small drops, and then he felt it.

Life.

It started as a heat in his belly, then a tugging in his chest that felt as though someone was pushing him. Shoving him backward. Back, back... back...

He slammed into his physical form, and it knocked all the breath out of him. Or maybe there was no breath to begin with.

Ten faeries stood around him of varying types. Brownies, pookas, a couple of clurichaun, which he didn’t trust were sober, all with their hands raised and their heads tilted back. They hummed on the same note, a strange sound that vibrated through his body and rattled his ribs. He had the thought that maybe the note was the thing keeping him alive. And that was a rather strange thought to have.

And then he could breathe again. His lungs sucked in a massive amount of air. He gasped, heaving in a great breath and wheezing in as though he had risen from the grave. Maybe he had.

Rolling onto his side, Alistair coughed and coughed until a black liquid poured out of his mouth. He gagged on it, vomiting more of the black sludge onto the ground until his stomach and body were purged of that poison.

“Marren,” he hissed.

There was only one poison he knew that could kill him like this. That devious bastard had poisoned him, and now he intended to make sure that Marren never forgot why he shouldn’t attack an Orbweaver.

“Help me,” he said to the fae. “I need to stand.”

And then it felt as though an invisible hand grabbed hold of the back of his shirt and lifted him upright. Horrified, he patted himself down one last time and then turned. No one stood behind him. The greenhouse was empty.

“Where is everyone?” he asked. And then he heard the screams.

He turned so quickly that his entire body rocked, and he almost fell back onto the ground. Except a furry body pressed up against him and held him in place. The pooka. The mangy-looking cat-like creature made sure he didn’t fall over and then pushed him toward the door of the greenhouse.

“Out back,” it croaked. “Hurry.”

Why? Why did he have to hurry?

What else could go wrong? Thea had to be with the other people. She wouldn’t have run away from here if he had been dying, and even then, they would have had to drag her away from his body. Wouldn’t they?

Why wasn’t she here?

The screams grew in crescendo, and he ran. Alistair sprinted through the greenhouse, slapping plants away from his face until he reached the end where there was no door. Only a glass wall stood between him and a massacre that he could not stop.

There was a small field in between the greenhouse and the home of the person who owned it. Three water fountains were topped with angels that held buckets pouring water back into the small pools. But the water coming out of the buckets was dark red. At least one person was laying face down in each of the pools, impaled with what looked like roots.

Thea stood in the back of the house with her arms raised. Vines grew out of the bleeding soil and twisted around those of the Academy, who thought they could run from her. A few of the people he recognized had gathered behind a wall of fire that kept them safe from her plants, but they couldn’t keep that spell going forever.

Another person ran past the greenhouse but was stopped by a tree’s roots that lifted out of the ground and dug into his chest. The man looked right at Alistair as tiny wooden spikes exited through his eyes, and then he fell flat onto his face.

Alistair had never seen power like this. He’d never even guessed that someone could be so destructive, so...

Thea turned toward him, and he watched in horror as plants wriggled underneath her skin. She called out for them with her fingers spread wide and a wicked grin on her face. She looked right through him, as though he wasn’t even there. A tiny vine wiggled out from under her eyelid and a tiny rosebud formed over the bridge of her nose.

As he watched, a single red teardrop slipped down her cheek.