Asylum (Causal Enchantment #2)(68)
Without another moment’s hesitation, before she could renege on her offer, I sank a dozen magical tendrils into her body. They sailed in as if invited through a wide-open door, snaking into Mage’s memories and thoughts as they had done with Caden. Only here, there was more—so much more. The moment five thousand years ago, when she realized what that Fates had turned her into; her first human kill and her horror as she gazed down on her victim. Regret tainted her every thought. Regret for testing the Fates with such a superficial request. Regret as her own family of sorcerers shunned her with disgusted sneers and ghastly screams.
I wove in and out of years, jumping from decade to decade, one century to the next; through the common stages of denial and then acceptance, of eccentricity and then a craving for normality; through the overwhelming boredom, the recurring urges to end her eternal life. So many years, besieged with melancholy and distrust as her strength grew to undefeatable heights. Cycling through one male companion to the next, with no desire to stay; guarding her back as those around her plotted to usurp her from her invisible throne. And then suddenly . . . a face. A woman’s face. Young, beautiful, vampire. Just like that, it was as if the sun rose over a horizon, and warmth blossomed within my heart. Yolanda. That was her name. A sister. A friend. Mage’s best friend.
From that point on, Mage’s memories took a turn toward a blissful place, the days filled with laughter and peace. Mage now had an ally, someone to watch her back, someone to trust wholeheartedly. There were no more thoughts of death. Not for six hundred years.
Until suddenly, that security was yanked out from under Mage, vanishing in a haze of darkness and fire delivered by witches and baited by the Sentinel. I watched as Mage stepped through carnage to find Yolanda’s dead eyes staring up from where she had fallen. Like a twig snapping in half, something broke in Mage then. I felt her tumbling backward, back into darkness, only it was so much bleaker this time.
In the next memory flash, I was peering out over a sea of heads in a football stadium. Cameras were everywhere, aimed to capture any angle. It was a really big game. Mage’s attention was on the football team in the green and white uniforms. She had previously traced two of them as Sentinel spies. In their football gear, she wasn’t sure which ones they were. She decided it didn’t matter. She’d just kill them all.
And that’s exactly what she did. On live national television, in front of millions of spectators, a vampire slaughtered an entire football team to avenge her best friend’s murder.
Filtering through the rest of Mage’s memories, I watched the war unfold through her eyes, the eyes of the catalyst who brought about the end of the world. Through the moment when she realized the grave impact of her rampage, however noble the intentions may have been; through her desperate attempts to stop the devastation; through to the migration to the South American continent that she would rename New Shore; through her order to exterminate three-quarters of the vampires because there were simply too many to keep the peace. The aftermath was a long, endless stretch of regret during which guilt ate away at her dark soul. So many times, Mage held flint and stone in her hand, ready to step into a blazing inferno. Only the seer’s words stayed her desire, burning into her mind as surely as if they were on fire. A parallel world. A second chance, perhaps. A chance to do right. If only she could get a second chance . . .
The last images that flashed through Mage’s mind were of Evangeline’s friends being dragged, bound by Merth; of Evangeline’s terrified face, and Mage’s urge to come forward and comfort her, knowing there was no point, that her reputation as an evil tyrant was all that had kept the masses from turning on her. And then my own face appeared in her memory, my red hair framing my face like a lion’s mane, my eyes set with crazed determination as I wielded fire balls, leveling dozens of Ratheus vampires. Mage had an opening. I saw it now. She had regained her senses quickly—unlike the others—and she could have killed me. She thought about it. But there was something about me that intrigued her. An instant kinship that stayed her lethal hands. She let me live.
By the time my magical threads released Mage, I was leaning so far forward in my chair that I was surprised I didn’t fall out. Dazed, I slid back, my eyes wide with shock as I stared openly at her, not because she was so horrific, not because the span of her lifetime was overwhelming, but because so many of her own memories and emotions reminded me of . . . my own. I swallowed several times before opening my mouth to speak, only nothing came out. I was utterly speechless. Drained of all suspicion in less than a minute.
Mage smiled sadly at me. “So you see, you and I are not all that different.”
With a small nod, I whispered, “I guess not,” and left it at that. There was nothing else to say. Just like that, seeing her for what she was, all of my apprehension vanished, all doubt of her intentions slid away. I now had a true ally in this war. I now had a real friend. It was . . . comforting.
I glanced over to see Caden, Amelie, and Bishop watching us intently, no doubt eavesdropping on the conversation. By the relieved looks on their faces, they’d figured out what had happened and they were pleased with the outcome. It meant Mage was genuinely on our side. Against Viggo, against the witches and the Sentinel, against all threats. We needed her.
Mage cleared her throat. “So after we get Evangeline, then what?”
Back to the plans. “I guess we could always go back to the cabin in the mountains, if it’s still there. Whatever happened between Leo and Ursula may have burnt the thing to the ground. I won’t know until I make a few phone calls.”