Fearless Magic (Star-Crossed #3)

Fearless Magic (Star-Crossed #3) Page 7

“Eden, I will keep us safe, I promise you that,” he affirmed seriously and then walked casually in the direction of the twenty-year-old bike.

“Would you like me to take your picture?” I approached the couple carefully.

They turned at the sound of my voice and smiled blankly at me. They were not Hispanic, but obviously did not speak English. I didn't have time to figure out how to cross the language barrier, so I pulled my hands to my face and mimicked taking a picture and then pointed at them, smiling the biggest, fakest, and most helpful smile I could muster.

The pull of other magic tugged softly at my blood, alerting my senses that the Titan Guard was on the move. I waited, impatiently for the couple to find understanding and then dug deeper for more as the man walked excruciatingly slowly to me and handed over his camera. He pointed at the button to push and then walked back to his girlfriend at the edge of the cliff.

I snapped a couple quick pictures of the happy couple while Jericho moved into place. I looked at Jericho who was ready to hop on the bike and then swallowed my guilt before tossing the camera high into the air and just over the couple's heads.

They both instinctively turned to grab their flying camera before it fell over the cliff-side and into the unreachable abyss below. Instantly, I sprinted the distance between the bike and me and jumped on the back, throwing my arms around the running motorcycle and a waiting Jericho.

The minute I was on board, he pushed down on the throttle and we were speeding down the winding roads of the mountainside, leaving a bewildered and wronged innocent couple behind us.

We were free for now, moving away from danger at the fastest speed we could. I had not factored helmets into my plan, so my hair, loosened from its ponytail holder, whipped violently around my face. I kept my arms tight around Jericho's waist, feeling his labored breath and wildly beating heart.

I buried my head in his back, protecting my face from the whipping wind, closing my eyes against the danger of the hair-pinned turns and steep drop-offs just a few feet from us, but mostly thankful to be near Jericho. I could smell him, I could touch him, he was really here with me. I wasn't alone anymore.

“Where are we going?” Jericho shouted over his shoulder, taking his eyes off the road for only a moment, but my breath caught in my throat and I clutched him tighter.

“Urubamba, there is someone I have to see,” I yelled back into his ear, the wind assaulting my face.

“Ok, I'll go passed it first, and then we'll head back towards it tomorrow,” Jericho decided and I agreed with his foresight.

I laid my head down against his back and closed my eyes, wondering at his deep knowledge of the Andes mountains.

We drove for hours like that, far from danger and far from Machu Picchu. I worried about Silas and his people with the Titan Guard so close to them. I led the Guard right to them, but I forced myself to trust that Silas could protect his own people. I couldn't go back for them and to check on them would be an insult to one of the only allies I had.

Towards dusk, Jericho drove the old motorcycle up the drive and to an old Monastery that was turned into a hotel. The building was a long white rectangle with a red Spanish roof and a large courtyard in the middle. The rooms lined the inner walls of the courtyard and all had bright blue doors that stood out vividly, even against the setting sun.

I checked us in at the front desk in a quaint lobby, and paid cash for one room with two twin beds. The concierge walked us to our room without saying anything and I wondered if it was because he did not speak English or because of the frantic way our eyes darted about the room and the hushed whispers and distrusting stares we used with him.

Either way, once our door was open and the key was in my hand, the young concierge left quickly, walking back to the lobby and leaving us alone.

Jericho stumbled through the door first, walking into the small room and breathing a heavy sigh of relief. I followed him in, closing and locking the blue door behind me. We were safe. For now, we were safe.

I turned around to take Jericho in, to allow myself to believe fully he was with me. He leaned against the opposite wall and I rested my back against the door and we stood there staring at each other, not a word whispered, not a sound uttered.

His hazel eyes smoldered with hope even while his shoulders slumped from exhaustion and his hands trembled at his sides. His lips turned upwards in the smallest of smiles and I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't bear the separation.

I crossed the room in a moment, throwing my arms around his neck and pressing my body against his. His arms were around my waist in an instantaneous gut reaction that would not let me go, even if that was what I wanted.

But it wasn't.

I would never let go of Jericho again.

Chapter Six

In our small, dimly lit motel room, I held on to Jericho as if he were the last grasp I had on sanity, as if he alone were keeping me afloat, saving me from drowning in a sea of desperation and fear. My magic clung to his in happy reunion, wrapping it in warmth and energy, reviving his fading spirit.

With his muscular arms around me and his face buried in my neck, I could not stop the storm of tears that had been imprisoned behind firm resolve. I was a sobbing, hysterical mess in his stronghold. I finally could not stop the crushing emotion; everything seeped out in a tormented tragedy of tears.

Jericho did not mimic my breakdown, but stood strong, holding me tightly to him, waiting out the tempest. He did not pull away or sigh in frustration, but stayed patient, the healing rock of comfort I needed most.

And in his hold, I mourned again the loss of my grandfather, the loss of my brother, the loss of my people, the loss of all hope and the loss of my great love. And when my tears dried, when there was nothing left to cry, nothing left to feel, he walked me to one of the single, narrow beds and sat down with me, pulling me close to him again and resting his tired head on top of mine.

“I can fix you,” I suggested through a hoarse, raspy voice, wiping my nose with the sleeve of the jacket I had yet to take off.

“What?” he asked, lifting his head and meeting my eyes.

“I can fix you, heal you or whatever,” I replied casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

“I don't understand you.” His brow furrowed with confusion and the smile returned to his lips.

“Here, I'll show you.” I released the blue smoke that had healed Angelica before and made its appearance at unusual times.

The smoke swirled around our feet, testing Jericho with the smallest hint of trepidation before wrapping itself abundantly around his ankles. In moments Jericho was blanketed in the thick wind that doubled as young, Immortal ability-tester and healing-savior at my beck and call.

I tried not to find the look of utter fear on Jericho's face amusing, but his eyes bulged and his mouth dropped open in silent shock.

I felt the blue magic move against his energy and against his broken body. The smoke pulled the fatigue and trembling away from him, off his tired spirit and weary resolution. I pulled the oppression out of him and into the magical air, dissolving it completely.

When it felt as though I absorbed it all, and had completely taken the pain away, I sent the wind into the far corners of the room where I knew it would slowly fade before disappearing completely. I was happy to find Jericho's hands had stopped shaking, his wrists were no longer scarred or raw and his distant eyes looked more vivid, although they were staring at me with intense bewilderment.

“What?” I asked innocently, holding up my hands in question.

“What was that?” he demanded, in a confused whisper.

“Um, I'm not exactly sure....” I admitted honestly.

“You're not exactly sure?” Jericho accused, not believing me for a second.

“Well, I mean, technically, it's the wind from the Cave of the Wind, but other than that, I mean, I don't really know....” I trailed off, wishing Jericho had been brought up to date before.... before....

“What do you mean it's the wind from the Cave of the Wind?” He grew more animated and more excited with every second I wasted not filling him in completely. Clearly he felt better and I could not have been more thrilled that he was back to his old self.

“Ok, so during the whole Immortal Walk thing, you know that the wind completely beat the crap out of me, right?” When he nodded I continued, “Well, I thought I was going to die. Like, I literally thought that the wind was going to kill me, so I fought back. And I don't know how it happened, I mean, Amory didn't even know why or how it happened, but somehow my magic fused with the wind, or the wind fused with my magic because after I left the cave the wind followed me. And now I can control it. Oh, and also it heals people, as long as they're not dead,” I finished quickly, mentally tabulating to make sure I had gotten in all of the important details.

“That's impossible,” Jericho mumbled, shaking his head slowly.

“Yet, here we are.” I smiled patiently, wanting to brush over this part of our reunion and get to the more important stuff.

“So the wind, and the cave and wait... what?” He blushed, embarrassed that it was taking him so long to figure it out.

“Oh, Jericho,” I sighed, gently brushing my hand over his forehead and pushing his hair back. His dark brown locks had grown long in prison, giving him a rugged, wild look. I smiled at him, letting him know that I was teasing him, but he didn't smile back. He stared at me intently, as if wanting me to do something, to act in a way that was beyond my understanding for the moment. “When I was in India, the Wind didn't recognize me. Amory thought because my magic was new, different from anything the Cave witnessed before, so that at first it treated me like an enemy. But something happened during our struggle; while the wind tried to kill me and I fought to save my own life, we bonded somehow. When I left the cave...” I flinched for a moment, remembering him on the other side of that journey, his turquoise eyes so worried about me, his hands there, helping me stand, the feeling that he would have moved heaven and earth to keep me safe.

“Go on,” Jericho prompted, sweetly slipping his hand over mine. He was consoling me now, the role of comforted and comforter kept flipping suddenly between us tonight and I wondered if that was how we would live out the rest of this fight together.

“When I left the cave, the wind came with me. I didn't really think anything of it until it reappeared in Omaha before the Winter Solstice dance and then Amory,” I cleared my throat, finding the courage to continue speaking, “Amory had Avalon and I practicing with it, trying to figure out what it could do, and why it would stay with me. But we never figured it out. He asked Avalon and me to keep working with it, but there wasn't time before.... before he was taken.” I hung my head in shame, the floods of sorrow threatening to sweep me up in them again.

Jericho lifted my chin with his thumb, gazing at me with compassion, and smiling encouragingly. I swallowed the grief, saving it for a different moment, but still leaned into him. I let his body envelope me; he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me with him down onto the pillow where we stayed snuggled together in a fortress of shared heartbreak.

“It wasn't until everyone had been taken that I learned it could heal people. I found Angelica the next morning, nearly dead and when I went to her side to see if I could help her, the smoke just kind of acted on its own. It healed her entirely, she's Ok now,” I whispered, thankful that I was able to rescue one life. It wasn't enough, she wasn't enough to forgive the sacrifice of so many others, but she was a start.