“He’s gone from contract to contract, helping master after master. No loyalty,” he commented, voice dark.
“… You mean, he’s kind of employed by people? Is that how it works with fairies?”
Again Max swallowed. “With some fairies. No loyalty,” he commented to himself under his breath again. “He could never see anything through, Dimitri.”
“Do you think his current master is Fagan?”
It took a long time for Max to shrug. “Probably. It’s hard to say, though. It definitely has to be someone with money – you saw Dimitri’s travel keys, and those things aren’t cheap. They’re also extremely hard to get hold of.”
It was my turn to swallow. “Why… why would he contract himself to Fagan? I mean, what does Dimitri get out of working for someone else?” It probably sounded like an extremely innocent and stupid question and was probably one I should have asked the first day I’d met Max.
It was better late than never.
“It depends on what a fairy lives for,” he commented.
I didn’t understand. I wanted to understand. I searched through his comment for any meaning, but I soon frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, Chi, that now is no time to discuss the finer points of being a fairy. All you need to know about Dimitri is that he is a dark bastard, and that he will switch masters in an instant if he thinks somebody can give him more power. Because that’s his reason for being,” Max said through clenched teeth.
“Power?”
He nodded, the move jerking and shuddering as his neck muscles seized up.
“… How do you know him?” I asked after a considerable pause, the chanting of the witches filtering in behind us.
Now Max dropped eye contact and almost looked as if he wanted to push back, turn, and leave.
“… Max?”
“He once helped me out.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, he once offered me a way out of something.”
My stomach kicked. Don’t ask me why my stomach kicked. It wasn’t like Max’s statement meant anything to me. And yet, somehow, it appeared to mean something to my heart. Suddenly, it raced. It wasn’t racing with passion, just a spike of fear. “He offered you a way out of what?” My voice sounded far-off, detached.
“Never mind,” Max said firmly, and this time it sounded as if he really was going to drop the subject. Indeed, he leaned forward, pushed a hand out, and trailed his fingers through some of the dirt that had fallen from my hands and slicked across the floor.
I watched intently.
Maybe he could feel the intensity of my gaze, because he shrugged back, pushed to his feet, finally broke away, and walked towards the edge of the circle of witches.
It drew my attention to them.
They had taken up position in a large circle that spanned most of the expansive room.
Within the circle, I could see the same 100 incense sticks burning, the same hundred candles, and within them, the tissue of dirt Max had taken from my hands.
This isn’t going to work. Fagan is too far ahead of you. Your only chance is to run. A voice suddenly sounded in my mind.
I tried not to pay attention to that voice; I tried to push it back. It was insidious and grew louder as I sat there in a pile of dirt, listening to the witches’ chant.
Maybe my only chance was to leave, was to run, was to get as far away from the witches as I could. That would put Fagan off the scent, wouldn’t it?
Or maybe it would just lead me right into his hands.
I screwed my eyes shut as I begged my power to return – as I begged it to tell me what to do.
In times of true, perilous danger, sometimes I could see five seconds into the future. I’d be able to use that snippet of the future to change the present. So why couldn’t I conjure that power now? Why couldn’t I call it to me when I needed it most?
I screwed my eyes shut as another surge of emotion shot through my heart, practically blasting me backward.
My powers may be considerable, may be worthy enough to garner Fagan’s covetous attention. But they were also cruel, too. They seemed to be able to get me into trouble, but they weren’t particularly good at setting me free again.
And yet, I didn’t stop. My eyes tightly screwed shut, I kept trying, kept forcing myself into the task of seeing the future. As the witches’ chanting swelled, as the smell of incense and candle wax filled the air, I tried with all my heart to save it – my heart.
For I was my only hope.
Chapter 8
I was back in the restaurant, rugged up on one of the couches in the back room, a warm, steaming cup of cocoa clutched tightly in my hands.
I watched Max, Bridgette, and Sarah as they argued about what to do next.
Max appeared to be unable to keep his eyes off me for long. His gaze kept ticking towards me every several seconds, almost as if he were double-checking that I was still there.
Well, I was still here, and it would take a mountain to move me.
I wanted out. Out of this situation, out of this world. Inheriting a massive, fancy house had been nice. Finding out I could genuinely read the future had been a surprise. But this?
It was too much. Too much.
“We have to go after Dimitri,” Bridgette insisted, hands on her hips. “If he successfully manages to,” she gritted her teeth, “chop off the finger of one of our dead sisters, he’ll be able to use it to locate this place. We won’t be safe. No one will be safe,” she said as she cut her gaze towards me, her meaning clear.
Max
