“We all have limits, Joanna.”
“So you’re saying you can’t fly?” I asked, and had to wonder immediately why he was telling me this. It wasn’t like revealing some pseudo-secret was going to have me softening my stance toward a wicked, mass-murdering being spawned from the sick mind of a man I was glad was dead. He had to know that.
“I can’t leave the valley,” he clarified, furthering my suspicion. “It’s a restriction. Neither can you.”
I toyed with the up and down button of my window, letting the heat of the night air leach into the limo’s cabin, and the blast of the air conditioning drive it out again. “Sure I can.”
“Have you tried since your metamorphosis?” he asked, and I paused, window halting halfway. I bet he was raising a brow from his place in the shadows. And I knew he was shaking his head. A soft chuckle slipped from the dark. “Does Warren tell you nothing?”
“Warren believes-” I started, then corrected myself. “We believe the most important lessons are taught in the doing, not the telling.”
“In other words, he’d have waited until you were on the airplane to let you find out.”
I made a face. “Probably.”
He laughed again, and reached out to swirl a tumbler of brandy, light cutting through the cut crystal to set the liquid glowing in amber warmth. He had nice hands, really; strong, wide, but elegant. Though I guess that could’ve been my imagination too. “Well, maybe there’s wisdom in letting someone believe they can do anything. That way they push the boundaries of the known, test their limits, refuse to take no for an answer. I should remember that.”
I stopped playing with the window long enough to nail him with a glare. I didn’t need any schooling from the Shadow side. “The vial, please?”
“Impatient, aren’t you?” More amusement.
“I get it from my mother,” I said smartly, holding out my hand. His own whipped out, grasped mine before I could withdraw it, squeezing so tightly my arm began to go numb.
“I know,” he said, and bilious smoke swelled to fill the limo’s interior. It was a good thing I had the window down, else I risked suffocating on the mawkish scent. I looked down and saw his fingers through the haze; they’d turned into claws, the nail beds hinged to the bone, and slashing out in curved talons with pronged tips. I belatedly realized I should’ve specified not injuring me as one of my conditions in being here. There were a lot of ways to hurt someone and still keep them alive. Fucking hindsight.
But his grip relaxed, the pressure lessened, and by the time the fumes lessened, those honed fingertips had turned fleshy once more. A slow inhalation of breath sucked the rest of the smoke back into his body-which was weird in itself-but then he was caressing my hand, and rubbing a manicured thumb over the ring I’d used to call Tekla to me in the maze.
“Where did you get this?” he asked, his voice as soft as his touch. I looked down. The light pulsing from beneath the prongs had been snuffed as soon as I’d depressed the stone into its setting, so it was dead now, just another stone, and useless. At least until I passed it on to another. But I wouldn’t do that yet because…
“Zoe gave it to me.”
But he already knew that. He knew what this ring was, what it did, and by the tight control suddenly straining his vocal cords, I was willing to bet he’d also given it to her.
He released my hand, and I pulled it tight to my chest, rubbing it as I watched him reach into the inside pocket of his double-breasted suit and pull out the fragile vial of save-the-world serum. He didn’t hand it to me, instead rolling it back and forth in his palm.
“There was a story I once heard,” he said, and I’d have rolled my eyes, except I had a feeling he wasn’t merely stalling. His powerful tenor was more distant than I’d ever heard it, his profile visible as he leaned his elbows on his knees and stared out the window to the sky above. “A legend about a person who would one day be born with equal parts sun and moon dominating her temperament, those planets warring so strongly within her that, unlike all others, she’d never have to bend to the influence of the stars. She would have the ability to freely choose the path she’d walk in this lifetime. Choose, also, the allies who would walk beside her. Their adversaries, so equally matched before, would be crushed beneath them. The first sign that one side would soon assume ascendancy over the other was the discovery of this unique individual.”
I made a sound in the back of my throat, impatiently tapping my finger on my mahogany armrest. “I’ve heard this story somewhere before.”
He ignored me. “The second portent that one side was finally to fall to their enemies was the sweep of a plague over their battleground, amassing casualties on both sides.”
“Alas,” I said wryly.
He didn’t even pause in his telling. “But the third sign…”
I interrupted here, tired of being ignored, and wearied by a story that still seemed like some remote legacy about someone I didn’t know. “Isn’t written yet.”
“Was written the moment the second was fulfilled,” he corrected, and turned to face me as my mouth fell open. His smile flared in the moonlight splicing through his window, and he almost looked human. “The third sign is the reawakening of Kairos’s dormant side. A new journey through the city she was born to, and rebirth into the troop she thought she was destined to defeat.”
“Gee,” I said, dryly. “You just can’t trust those urban legends, can you?”
“Not always,” he said easily, leaning back into the shadows, only his hands remaining in the moonlight, pale next to the bloodred vial he carelessly palmed. “But I bet I can get you to switch sides in return for Zoe Archer’s life.”
I froze, even though my stomach heaved. He was lying. Lying and bluffing, and I called him on it. “You don’t have it to trade. She’s remained in hiding through my adolescence, metamorphosis, and a virus that threatened the entire troop and valley. You don’t know where she is, and you have nothing to draw her out into the open.”
“There’s you,” he said simply, and held the vial out to me.
The straight answer so shocked me that for a moment I didn’t move. And then, as squarely as a pie in the face, it hit me why he really hadn’t killed me back at Valhalla. It wasn’t because I was his daughter, or the Kairos-this legend he spoke of now-or even because he wanted to send me into his maze and steal my power for himself. He still wanted her. God. His quest for vengeance made mine look like child’s play.
I forced myself to reach out and take the vial before he withdrew it, but because I was suddenly shaking, I had to be extra careful not to let my hand tighten around it once it was in my fist. I lifted my eyes to the inhuman ones I knew were watching me from the shadows. “I won’t let you use me against her,” I said quietly.
“You, my dear, don’t have a choice. It’d be one thing if you’d come to me willingly, but now you’ve pissed me off. You want to be an enemy, daughter? Fine. I’ll provide you with a worthy foe.”
“See,” I said, with more confidence than I felt, “I just knew we couldn’t have a civil conversation without at least one veiled threat.”
“Veiled?” He leaned forward then, and I saw him again, that same guido who’d promised to let me live if I could escape Valhalla, his maze, the infection coating the city. But this being gave a new meaning to the phrase organized crime. And I doubted any of the old-time mobsters had eyes that flared in cherry red flames from upper lid to lower, and a voice so low it could cause the earth to quake. “The minute you step from this car my vow is fulfilled, and we’ll be opponents once more.”