The Darkness in Dreams (Enforcer's Legacy, #1)(2)

“I don’t need to spell it out.”

Three frowned. Phillipe was her closest advisor. She allowed him to say things no one else dared and she didn’t appreciate that liberty now.

“You think I should intervene.”

“I think you should protect the girl regardless of the past.”

“Arsen’s close enough to that location,” she said finally. “Why isn’t he protecting her?”

“He’s watching her, but he isn’t going to tell her what those dreams mean, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“What’s he waiting for?”

“Christan.”

“How subtle.”

“We just did subtle,” said Phillipe. “This is direct.”

His silver eyes were swirling with the intensity of mercury. Three knew he intended to demolish her arguments. She was prepared.

“Every time we have a crisis you tell me to bring him back.”

“He’s your enforcer. He’s the only one who can protect her.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think, Phillipe. I’ve tried in the past and he refuses to do what I ask.”

“Force him.”

Three arched one eyebrow. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m quite serious.” Phillipe folded his arms across his chest. “Six is provoking a Calata war. You can’t let it go unchallenged.”

“These could be random attacks, not directed at the Agreement.”

“It won’t matter once the warriors rebel. Christan is the only one who can prevent open warfare.”

“Arsen is Christan’s second. He could control the warriors.”

“Not like Christan. Remember who he was, Three. Who he is.”

Phillipe didn’t need to remind her. Christan was a legend, the origin myth behind the most feared creature in the ancient world. He was her master of war, the cold wind before the warm rush, the most startlingly powerful being she had ever created. And four centuries ago, Three, along with the blond girl in the photographs, had nearly destroyed him.

Three turned her head and studied the horizon. The white haze of Seattle merged into the beaten metal sea and the effect was stunning. “There has to be another option.”

“There isn’t.”

“Christan won’t listen,”

“Tell him they’re killing the girls. He’ll listen.”

Three shifted her gaze slightly to the left, losing herself for an instant before she looked back. “This girl looks like she did in Gemma’s lifetime. Christan won’t come back if she’s here again.”

Phillipe shrugged. “He’s had to see her in all of her past lives. Why is this any different?”

Three’s smile was brief and tight. “It’s different.”

“Then force him, Three. If you fight this war without Christan, you’re going to lose.”

Three lifted a photo of the girl standing by the sea and doubted Christan could be forced to do anything. Too much had happened—and the crimes both she and this girl committed had never been forgiven.

There was so much she never explained. Decisions, made out of necessity, a contingent of power, of calculation. Lifetimes that had come and gone and spun around again. An Agreement all had sworn to protect but none had wanted to support—the alchemy could not grant immortality, so reincarnation had been a logical choice. The chance to find and reclaim the love that was lost. By the time Three recognized the destruction, the blood was already on the floor.

“Do you know why he did it?” Phillipe asked. “Why he put himself in the Void?”

Three had no way to answer. There were some tragedies that never should have happened but did. In her mind, Three could still see the girl with sunlight in her hair, turning her back on an enforcer already crushed by anger and pain. In her long life there was little Three forgot, but there was nothing she remembered with more acuity than the exact instant when Christan left the world. When the sun dropped from the sky as if it would never return. When the cypress trees—mourning trees—lived up to their name before the darkness devoured them.

The memories flashed through the edges of Three’s mind while her eyes remained fixed on the distant skyline of Seattle. “To do nothing would be safer,” she said.

“To do something would be more interesting.”

The silence extended into a period of waiting that grew painful. She supposed it was the arrogance of confidence, or the magic she hadn’t understood. Now the magic was failing. The girls were remembering the disasters in their past lives. They were dying. If Christan did not come back, if the warriors broke the Agreement, the peace would fall apart—and the old wars would start up again.

Energy spread in the room and rolled along the walls. Water in the bay grew turbulent. There was a moment—like an indrawn breath caught in surprise—before Three flicked her hand. Such a small gesture, barely there, and then thunder split the air above Seattle. Buildings rattled. Birds flew screeching into the air and people flooded the streets, gripping their cell phones and staring up at the clear blue sky.

“He’s in Montana and not himself,” she said as the power drifted away. “Plant your breadcrumbs, Phillipe. Let’s hope Arsen finds him in time.”