30
“I’m sorry.”
My voice was raw and scratchy, and when I tried to clear it, I ended up coughing so hard that my gentle entry into waking hours was abruptly replaced by a scalded throat and violent headache.
“Here.”
The scent of warm peppermint washed over me, and I looked up to find Hunter standing at my bedside, a cup of steaming tea in his outstretched hand. Twelve hours earlier, I would’ve slapped it away, sending tea splattering against the cream-colored walls along with the perfume bottles, mirrors and knickknacks I’d already destined for the trash bin. Instead, as I looked around for the remnants of those things, I accepted the tea, and took a grateful sip.
“You cleaned up,” I said, as Hunter perched himself next to me. This gave me a clear view of myself in the cracked dresser mirror, and I winced at my multiple reflections. “Everything but me, I see.”
He leaned back, blocking my view. I met his steady gaze. “How’re you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been hit by a semi.”
He cocked one dark brow. “I can’t imagine why.”
“Look, I’m sorry. Really-”
“I heard you the first time,” he stopped me, though his voice wasn’t harsh like I expected. Or deserved. “And it’s okay.”
I sipped some more tea, letting the warmth spread through my chest, and out into my limbs, pooling in my ravaged fingertips. “Thank you.”
He lifted one large shoulder, shrugging off the gratitude. “Remember when we were in the boneyard? In Tekla’s thought maze?”
“Hunter-”
He smiled, bittersweet, and shook his head. “Not that part. Before that. The reason we were there. The purpose of the maze.”
I knew the answer-the hours spent under Tekla’s tutelage, breaking down walls, had been toward that purpose. “To get to the center without detection. As quickly as possible.”
“To use your
Yes, I knew that too. I closed my eyes and nodded. “And I had none of that yesterday. If I’d gone to Valhalla like that I’d have been dead before I hit the door.”
Hunter patted my leg, warming me further. When I finally opened my eyes again, he said, “The thing is, Jo, getting through that maze was only the first step. Creating barriers out of the ether was the ultimate goal. And do you know why?”
Because the most powerful being had been wrought into the world solely by the determination of a powerful mind. “Because if you know how to build them up, you know how to tear them down.”
“Valhalla is the Tulpa’s house,” Hunter said, nodding. “You need clarity, intention, and your sixth sense combined to enter safely, but to reach the center of his quarters, you need to be able to throw him off your trail. Create barriers of your own.”
“And destroy the artificial walls he’s created to throw me off of his.” I sighed thoughtfully and sipped at the cooling peppermint.
Hunter nodded. “Can you do that?”
I sipped again, and this time the tea settled like a brick in my gut. I looked back at him. “No.”
He nodded slowly, and to himself. “But you’ll try anyway.”
My response this time was a mere whisper. “I have to stop Joaquin. Find Ian. Try to find an antidote to this virus.” Save Ben. Save the girl. Save myself. “I have to at least try.”
“I know,” he said, laying a hand over mine. It was as warm and comforting as the tea. I glanced again at Hunter. I’d never seen him like this before; gentle, understanding, almost paternal. “And as you’ve already made that choice, there’s only one more question you need to ask yourself.”
I waited.
His mouth quirked, his eyes narrowed, and there was the sexy weapons master I knew. “Who do you want walking beside you?”
“Oh, Hunter. I can’t-”
“-ask me to do that,” he interrupted again, rolling his eyes. “I know. But I’m the one doing the asking here. So. What’s it going to be?”
“Yes.” The word rushed out of me on a relieved exhale. Dying alone, after all, had such little appeal. “God, yes. Of course. If you’re sure.”
He smiled at me again, a grim little thing, and lifted a hand to brush back one of the tendrils hanging in my face. “You don’t have to ask that either,” he murmured.
Then he rose to leave, saying something about rest, that we’d leave the following dusk, but stopped in the doorway to send me a hard look over his shoulder. I pulled my eyes away from the shattered reflections of my many selves, and bit my lip. “I only ask one thing of you. Stay honest about your intentions. Anything less will kill us both.”
I flushed because he felt he had to say it, even though I knew I deserved it after last night’s hysterics, but lifted my chin in what I hoped was a convincingly determined look. “I want to bring Ian back. I want Ben safe. I want my…the child’s safety ensured as well.”
I said nothing about vengeance or making Joaquin pay for what he’d done to me. No request to let me be the one to kill him. I didn’t say it because I finally saw those dreams for what they were: violent distractions. Finally Hunter nodded. “All right, then. Let’s go get Joaquin.”
He disappeared back into the living room, and I sipped my tea and let my eyes travel back to the mirror.
“Yes,” I said, eyeing all my shattered selves. “Let’s go get that bastard.”
We found a portal a block away from Valhalla, and entered to find the world awash in a blanket of white.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I said, testing the depth of the snow with one leather boot before glancing back at Hunter, still huddled in the doorway of the souvenir shop we’d come through. “We can’t walk into that hotel and cross back to mortal reality with snow on our feet and in our hair. It’ll be a dead giveaway.”
“And the alternative is?” he asked wryly, looking at the snow like it was acid. “Walk through the front door?”
No, we couldn’t do that. Now that Joaquin knew my real identity, he’d be looking for me-mask or no mask. This reality was still our best shot. “Let’s find another portal.”
He shook his head. “It’s not the portal, it’s the timing. It just happens to be snowing on this side of reality right now.” He shuddered, and I don’t think it had anything to do with the cold. Like me, Hunter was a desert rat. Anything this cold and white was simply…unnatural. “Can we wait it out?”
I glanced up at the thick blanket of clouds roiling overhead, and doubted it. This, along with the colorless landscape, was the other major difference on this side of reality. While the physical surroundings matched what one would find in the real world, the more fluid variables, like weather, were particularly unstable. Step through a portal on a bright blue summer day, and you were likely to find vicious winds circling the valley as if stalking their prey. A parched winter day might yield rainbows arching overhead, crisscrossing in shades of gray, though no less glorious for it. So while we might find a portal to enter closer to Valhalla, it would only minimize the trudge, but change nothing. Besides, this one had already sealed behind us.
“Let’s go,” I said reluctantly, and plodded out into the street, arms wrapped around my already chilled body. Across the road a shirtless kid skateboarded home in the dusk of his sweltering reality. I glanced back, following the dual footprints leading to the aural smears of light directly behind Hunter and me, and wished we had something to cover them with. The prints, not the smears. Those dissipated within seconds, though the vibrant colors seemed to hang longer in the heavy winter air, and I briefly wondered if the troops back east considered this a problem. Hunter followed the direction of my gaze and read my thoughts.
“Hindsight and all,” he said, turning forward again.
“Yeah. I’ll make a note to add snowshoes to my shopping list.”
