“That was before you had the power of the goddess of life in your hands,” Killian insists. “We have the edge—you have the edge—and Neritous knows it. Why else would he be trying so hard to keep you alive?”
“What’s the point of being alive if all I am is a slave to a tyrant?” I ask, not liking the way my voice shakes at the question. As much of a comfort as Killian was in the moment, he’s also equipping me to finally articulate what’s going through my mind, and none of it is pretty. “I’d rather die if those are my only options.”
“That’s not going to happen, Karma.” I look up, surprised by the conviction in his voice, and see his golden eyes burning with empathy, admiration, and fierce protectiveness. “I’m not going to let you die,” he tells me firmly, “or end up as a slave. We’re going to get through this. Together.”
I smile sadly at him, reaching a hand up to caress his cheek; he covers my hand with his own, seeming to relish the feeling of my touch. “You always know how to cheer me up,” I tell him and mean it.
He grins that charming grin of his. “Consider it a special talent,” he replies before his face goes serious again. Sitting up, he runs a hand through his blond hair, looking first around the room and then back at me. “Do you remember the day we first met?” he asks suddenly, his brow furrowing.
I nod, laughing a little at the memory. “You guys raised hell in that bar. I was so close to getting away from you, too.”
“Damn right, we did,” Killian agrees. “But…I’m glad you didn’t, for whatever it’s worth. Just in case there was any doubt.”
I laugh. “You know, as weird as it is, so am I.” I turn to him. “I wasn’t too keen on you guys.”
Killian snorts. “That’s the understatement of the century.”
“Well, can you blame me?” I ask, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and standing up. “You guys arrested me. You tried to throw me in the gods’ prison and throw away the key.”
“Right,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as I start clambering into my pants. “Sorry again for that. It’s been an adventure, though, hasn’t it?” He watches me for a long moment as I dress, keenly aware of his eyes on me, drinking me in. Normally it would make me uncomfortable, but not now. Not with him. “When I saw you in that bar, I thought you were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen,” he admits, looking away from me.
“That’s the worst line I’ve ever heard,” I joke.
“It’s true, though,” he insists. “You were…I don’t know, radiant. Like this bat out of hell, with the attitude to match. I didn’t know what hit me. I thought I must have been dreaming.”
I feel a little guilty as I button up my jeans. “When I saw you in that bar, I thought you guys were going to kill me there and then.”
I see the justice god’s hands ball into fists at his sides. He looks almost ashamed, unable to meet my eyes, as if doing so will reveal some horrible truth that I’m not ready to see. “I would never have been able to,” he confesses. “It felt…wrong, what we were doing. Seth felt it too, I know he did. But you have to understand, when you’re in our line of work…”
“I know,” I finish for him, nodding as I slide my top off and work on getting my bra back on. “You do what you’re told. Don’t question too much. I…” I trail off, glancing down at my hand. It’s odd that ever since Neritous, I haven’t received a single name, not one target to deliver karma to. No more black writing, no more wondering what my latest target did to deserve what’s coming for them, nothing. Instead, it’s been replaced by the climbing vines and intricate leaves of the tattoos that snake up my arms, a cruel reminder that my life is no longer my own. It’s almost as if the universe itself knows that that’s no longer my life, that I’m no longer part of that world, as much as I might yearn for it. “I get it,” I finish lamely, and although I don’t say anything more, it’s clear from the look that Killian gives me that he can see the pain I’m in.
Wordlessly, he gets to his feet, coming to stand beside me, and I feel his hand brush against my arm for a fleeting second. He brings his palm up to cup my cheek before leaning in and kissing me gently enough to leave me weak in the knees. I cling to him like he’s my last lifeline, reluctant to let go until I need to breathe, and then just taking a moment to let him hold me. Neither of us says anything—there isn’t anything to be said—and together we get dressed in silence. Downstairs, I can hear the voices of the others. Storm and Seth seem to be back, which is good. I don’t like the idea of them wandering around without protection. Whether they know about my tryst with Killian, I have no idea, but at this point, I’m too tired, physically and emotionally, to care. Hopefully they won’t, either. It’s been quiet in Mads’s room, which could either be a very good sign or a very bad sign…or maybe Peyton’s finally given up. The thought of that pains me, and I’m reminded again that I’m not the only person with a dog in this fight: lives are depending on me.
I put my hands in my pockets and lean against the wall while Killian finishes getting dressed, pulling a fitted T-shirt over his head and rolling his shoulders back. As if reading my mind, he turns to me with a frown. “I haven’t heard anything from your brother in a while,” he remarks. “Do you think…?”
I shake my head. “Like we should be that lucky. She probably just wore him out, and he’s taking a break.” I let out a long sigh. “It’s terrible. I can barely think about it without wanting to pull my hair out.”
“Again, not your fault,” Killian tells me as he pulls open my bedroom door.
“It doesn’t matter whose fault it was,” I reply. “I just want my best friend back.”
“Maybe you should try talking to her, then,” he suggests, crossing his arms. “You might be able to get her to remember.”
I snort. “Yeah, right. If Peyton couldn’t get through to her, I doubt anything I say is going to make a difference.”
“You sure about that?” Killian shrugs. “She’s known you longer than she’s known him. She’s been there with you since day one. Weren’t you the one who told me that?”
“I…” I fidget. What he’s saying makes sense, but I don’t want to bite the bullet. It’s all just too painful. Then again, what choice do I have? “Maybe you’re right.”
“Of course I am,” Killian replies, grinning broadly. “I’m always right.” He holds an inviting hand out to me. “Come on,” he suggests. “We can ask Peyton for advice. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?”
“Easier said than done,” I point out but don’t hesitate to take his hand. I’m going to get through to Mads if it kills me.
In spite of my bravado, I’m practically shitting bricks, and the walk back downstairs seems to take ages. Wiser now, Killian ducks out of the way before the hand can reach out of the painting, shooting the damn thing a look that might have made me laugh if our situation weren’t so messed up. Out the bay window, I can see mum working in the garden with Ruby, Michael observing haughtily from his living space over by the fence. The little girl seems to be adjusting well, all things considered, and it warms me a little to know that, in spite of everything she’s been through, she still seems to be bouncing back all right. If she can, maybe I can, too, I think, the corners of my mouth turning up a little. Maybe we all can.
While my other brothers seem to be busying themselves in the kitchen, fighting over leftovers, by the sounds of it, we find Peyton in the living room. He’s curled up on the couch, his elbows braced on his knees and his head resting in his hands. I’ve never seen him look quite so tired…or quite so despairing. I know exactly what that feels like. He doesn’t even look up when Killian and I settle onto the couch next to him, and I cautiously put a hand on his back. Right now, I feel more like an older sister to him than I ever have before in my life.
My touch seems to startle him, and he lifts his head. There are bags under his eyes, which are bloodshot and damp with tears. He looks utterly defeated. “I’m assuming the news isn’t good, huh?” I ask tentatively.
Peyton shakes his head, letting out a long sigh. “I keep trying,” he says, “although I don’t even fucking know why anymore. She’s like a stranger to me. And I’m…” He chokes a little, his voice breaking on the last word. “I’m like a stranger to her, now. I guess.”
I give his back a couple of pats, unsure what I can say to make this better. “She still loves you,” I tell him, although I don’t sound very convincing. Hell, I’m not even sure if I believe it.
My brother snorts, straightening up, and I let my hand fall. “She doesn’t love me anymore,” he replies, the sheer bitterness in his voice leaving me feeling taken aback. “She doesn’t even know who I am. She doesn’t remember any of us. And the worst part is, she doesn’t care.” He sets his jaw, his green eyes flashing as he turns to look at me. “Whatever those bastards did to her, they took her away. The girl I loved is gone. She’s just a fucking…magical shell, now.”
I exchange a look with Killian, a sinking feeling in my stomach; I’m uncertain of what to say. “I have to admit, I don’t know much about this sort of…situation,” Killian speaks up, fidgeting a little. “I didn’t know it was possible… Although I’m starting to realise that I’ve never known as much as I’ve always thought I did.” He clears his throat. “That said, though… I’ve been thinking. I don’t think we should count Mads out just yet.” Meeting my eyes with his golden ones, he gives me a subtle nod, the smallest burst of encouragement, and his earlier words come back to me. We’re going to get through this together.
“Mads is gone,” Peyton retorts, sounding numb. “I’m just going to have to accept that. We all are. The sooner we do, the sooner we can move on.”
“No way,” I interject, bristling. “That’s my best friend in there. Peyton, it’s the woman you love. I’m not about to just write her off as a lost cause.”
“You think I’m enjoying this?” Peyton demands, a little defensively. “I know that. But she doesn’t listen to me. She doesn’t listen to any of us.”
“So we need to make her listen,” I reply, determined. “She’s still in there somewhere. I have to believe that.”
“And what exactly do you suggest we do?” Peyton asks, his voice frustrated. “She loved me. I loved her. But she threw it all back in my face like it was nothing. I’ve done everything I can, and it still wasn’t enough.”
“Maybe you have,” I reply at last, choosing my words carefully, “but I haven’t.”
