Belladonna

Chapter Twenty-nine

In the pale gray light, that herald of the dawn, Michael reached for the woman who filled his heart and his dreams—and woke up, alone.

He lit the lamp on the bedside table, plumped up the pillows behind him, then looked at the painting on the wall near the bed.

Sebastian painted that for me, Glorianna had said.

Quite a jolt to see himself in a painting that came from an incubus’s imagination—and to wonder if his dreams had influenced the image Sebastian had chosen for Glorianna’s moonlight lover or if the painting had, somehow, been the source of his own dreams and yearnings. Just as much of a jolt to look past the romantic costumes and realize he and Glorianna had stood exactly that way in the garden yesterday after discovering the new bed that represented his home landscape.

They’d had their night of lovemaking, and he’d taken extra care to please her, to pleasure her. He had wanted to absorb the music of their lovemaking, had needed to fill his heart with the song of her when passion and love climaxed and shone with a fierce Light.

Now…

He pushed back the covers, went into the bathroom, and ran water for a bath. As he waited for the tub to fill, he closed his eyes, turned his head toward his shoulder, and breathed in the scent of her on his skin. He didn’t want to wash off that mingling of scents, but there was no telling what was going to happen in the days ahead or when he’d have another chance at taking a full bath.

So he soaked in the hot water and tried not to think about what was to come.

She’d been hesitant at first, almost shy when she brought him to her bedroom last night. It made him wonder how long it had been since she’d had a lover. Then he’d stopped wondering and just enjoyed the way her mouth had opened for him, the butterfly touch of her tongue against his. The feel of her skin beneath his hands. Her moan of pleasure when he’d suckled her breasts. The way her strong fingers had gripped his shoulders the first time he’d stroked her body over the edge of pleasure. And the way…

Michael blew out a breath and sat up in the cooling water.

“Maybe you don’t need to be remembering quite so much right now,” he muttered as he picked up soap and washcloth.

Keeping his mind on the mechanics of what he was doing, he got washed and dressed, and walked into the kitchen. That’s when his heart got the first of what, he knew, would be many bruises.

His pack was still by the door. He’d removed his clothing and personal gear last evening while she’d been putting together a bit of dinner for the two of them. The pack was too big and heavy for a woman to carry for long, but it had everything she would need to set up a camp—sleeping bag, pots and pans, candles, matches, lantern. Plenty of room for her clothing and female things. A camp, that’s what he’d been thinking. And she hadn’t argued with him, hadn’t disagreed.

But she hadn’t taken it with her, had turned away from even that much comfort. Had turned away from even that much of a reminder of him.

The perk pot still held koffee, so he heated that up instead of making the tea he would have preferred.

He didn’t have an appetite, and lost most of his interest in food when he realized she hadn’t taken any of that with her either, but he ate one of the eggs she had hard-boiled yesterday, then took his cup of koffee and a thick slice of bread and butter out with him. He didn’t look at the walled garden, didn’t even consider going in. Not yet. Instead, he went to the new bed that held his heart’s hope and the belladonna.

“Wild child,” he called softly. “Ephemera, can you hear me?”

It heard him, but he sensed a resistance, almost as if it feared what he might ask of it. Did the world know what she intended to do?

“Listen to me, wild child. Don’t let her Light scatter. Find a place for it where it can be cherished and kept safe.”

Ephemera didn’t understand. Not yet.

Door of Locks. Stories and spirits and keys. He’d chosen a lock, based on dreams of a black-haired woman he’d fallen in love with before he’d truly seen her face or heard her voice—or known her heart. But she, as Guide and spirit, had used that key in his heart to open the door and show him a life he couldn’t have imagined. Because he hadn’t known the possibility of being accepted for what he was had existed.

He ate the bread and drank the koffee. He washed the dishes and the perk pot. He repacked his clothes into the big pack, then took them out and put them in the smaller travel pack. A change of clothes, a canteen, and his whistle were all he needed right now. He slipped one of the one-shot bridges Lee had made for him into his coat pocket. The others, wrapped in scraps of cloth and stored in a drawstring pouch, he tucked into the pack.

Give me enough time, Magician, she had said. I couldn’t bear it if someone else was caught when I altered the landscapes.

He waited while the minutes crawled by. When the sun had risen high enough that he could be reasonably sure that the folks in Aurora would be up and about, once he actually got there, he picked up the travel pack and left the house.

As he followed the path that would lead him to the river, he slipped his hand in his pocket, wrapped his fingers around the one-shot bridge—and crossed over to the Den of Iniquity.

An abandoned garden. A small plot of ground compared to what she had ended up creating on the Island in the Mist, but it had been hers once, and there was just enough of her resonance left for her to take the step between here and there, to cross over to this enclosed piece of ground.

Safety first. It would all be for nothing if the Eater’s creatures killed her before she finished her task. Afterward…Maybe it would be a blessing afterward.

Sixteen years ago, the Dark Guides had tried to seal her in by poisoning her mind. If they had succeeded, she would have altered the landscapes to create a smothering cage, and never would have realized she had been the instrument they had used to destroy her, never would have realized it was her power and not theirs that had chained her to a barren existence.

Now she was going to do what the Dark Guides had failed to do. Now she was going to do much more than they had intended to do.

Much more.

“Ephemera,” Glorianna Belladonna said softly, “hear me.”

The Eater of the World, in the form of an elegantly dressed, middle-aged gentleman, stepped onto the rust-colored sand that spilled out of the back of a smelly alley. Its mouth fell open in astonishment. Its eyes widened in shock.

A dissonance in Its landscapes! New, strange flavors of Dark—and delicious ripples of Light that winked out. Then It felt Ephemera manifest a will, obey a heart. It felt the ripples of that command in the currents of power that flowed through the world. Then It felt…

It looked down at the sand beneath Its feet. “No,” It whispered. “The bonelovers are mine. That landscape is mine.”

But some sly, dark heart had slipped into Its landscapes and stolen the bonelovers’ landscape by altering the resonance just enough to shut It out. Something had shut It out of a landscape It had made.

Thief!

It staggered back a step, braced a hand against a dirty wall.

She walks in the gardens, a voice, harsh yet oddly melodious, whispered through the currents of the world. She walks in the gardens, stealing all your work, all your creations. All your puny little creations. Boo, hoo. Boo, hoo. Poor little Eater, not brave enough to do anything but hide. She already controls the Light. Where will you go, little Eater, when she rules the Dark?

Ragged breaths as the body trembled. Fear and rage as It considered the message in those whispers.

The True Enemy had come to the Landscapers’ School. Was in the Landscapers’ School, taking Its dark landscapes and making them her own.

Not fair! Not fair!

Coward, the voice whispered. Even the Dark Guides have come to play.

It wasn’t a coward. It wasn’t afraid. It was the Eater of the World. It was feared. Even the world feared It.

Laughter whispered through the currents of the world. Cruel, mocking laughter.

We’re connected with the world again, another voice whispered through the currents. We’re connected to the school!

It remembered that voice. Harland. The head of the Wizards’ Council. The leader of the Dark Guides.

Our own magic wasn’t enough to seal her in, Harland’s voice whispered. And we didn’t know the bitch could use Heart’s Justice the way she did. But we canuse the creatures the Eater has at the school. Use them up to wear her down. And then…DESTROY HER!

Laughter whispered through the currents of the world. Cruel, mocking laughter.

Were there ripples of fear beneath that laughter?

She wasn’t as strong as she wanted them all to believe. Had never been as strong as she wanted them to believe. She was on Its ground, where It had slaughtered so many of her kind.

It would have her. In the end, It would have her. Its creatures would attack her body. The Dark Guides would attack her mind. The Light inside her would beckon all the dark things.

In the end, It would have her. It would peel off her skin. It would crack open her bones like the shell of a nut and pick out all the delicious meat. It would feast on her screams and her cries and her misery. And then, when the True Enemy was nothing more than scattered garbage, It would break open another shell—and feast on the Places of Light.

It stepped back onto the sand, forcing the resonance of Its darkness upon the landscape that held Its first creation. Forced Ephemera to accept Its dominance, Its resonance, until the bonelovers’ landscape once more belonged to It. Then It changed to Its natural form, a rippling shadow beneath the skin of the world, and flowed as fast as It could to the access point that would take It to the school.

It was coming.

Fear shivered through her, but Glorianna kept at her task of shifting the resonance of the currents of Light that flowed through the school—and through the dark landscapes that belonged to the Eater of the World. She’d set the trap and had sent the bait flowing out into the currents of the world.

Borders and boundaries. She had brought Wizard City back into the world, and that landscape was now connected by a border with the gate that had opened to the Bridges’ part of the school. If the Dark Guides tried to come after her, they would have to cross more ground, take more risks against the Eater’s creatures.

The cage was almost closed. The Eater had touched less of the world than she had expected. Not surprising, now that she considered it. There were hundreds of landscapes held in the walled gardens at the school. The surviving Landscapers would reclaim their pieces of the world and take on the responsibility of being the bedrock for others. Ephemera would survive.

The landscapes she was leaving behind would be cared for.

It’s not a feather bed, but the nights are cold this time of year, and the sleeping bag will keep you warm.

She’d left it behind. Had to leave it behind, along with everything else Michael had wanted to give her.

Because kindness would kill her.

As she pushed the image of Michael’s face out of her mind, another face took its place. Dark eyes that held deep pools of wisdom. A hand holding out a white stone.

That day, when Yoshani had told her about the magic of his people in using the jar of sorrows, he had offered her a white stone as a way to cleanse her heart and let go of the hurts of the past. She had refused his offer, had refused that kindness because she had known, on some level, that she would need those kernels of remembered pain.

For this place. For this task.

Yes. She would need her sorrows.

She looked at the sky, at the daylight growing stronger.

The Eater of the World was coming. When It was inside the school, she would lock the last door, seal the last gate.

Then there would be just one more thing left to do.

The Warrior of Light must drink from the Dark Cup.

Hold them off a little longer, Magician. Just a little longer. After that, it will be too late—and they’ll be safe.

Teaser saw him first.

Michael had a moment to feel grateful that Lee wasn’t at Philo’s place with the two incubi. That would buy her a little more time. Besides, he wasn’t looking forward to facing Glorianna’s brother.

Then Sebastian turned around, and those sharp green eyes looked right at him. Right through him.

He kept walking toward the courtyard. Sebastian stepped away from the tables and chairs, meeting him on the cobblestone street. They stopped just out of reach of each other.

“Threat and promise is what you called me,” Michael said quietly. “I’ve made good on the threat, for the sake of the world.”

“What have you done?” Sebastian asked, his voice rough with restrained, but rising, anger.

“Told a story. Provided a key to a locked door.”

“In clear words, Magician.”

“I told Glorianna how to stop the Eater of the World. She’s gone to the Landscapers’ School.”