dreamed that. It had been real. No innocent maiden, her ancestress, some ancient echo of herself, had given herself to save the Master from ultimate destruction. Whether the tribe’s god or totem spirit, he’d survived, but weak and crippled. Scarred.
And somehow, whatever she’d done, the magic of blood and love had fixed a piece of him forever in this realm.
A young boy—yelling at the top of his lungs, face covered in melted ice cream—barreled up the path and between them, forcing them apart. Hally watched him go, her eyebrows raised. “Guess you were right.”
“Eh.” Christy shrugged. “It’s good for there to be life here.”
“Look who’s less grumpy now.”
“What does it mean, when an animal is white?”
“In most mythologies, it means that it’s a spirit form.”
“Like the white stag in the Arthurian tales.”
“Exactly.”
They got back to Hally’s car, the sun sinking low, and she pulled back out to the highway. “Where to?” Hally asked in a chipper tone.
“Would you drop me off at the opera house?”
“Thought so.”
Though it was late on a Saturday, people were there working—mainly the props and scenery crews—putting in extra hours. With dress rehearsals kicking into gear in the next week, it suddenly seemed as if a mountain of work loomed. Nobody was surprised to see Christy and, likewise, nobody paid much attention when she tossed off a wave and headed down the spiral staircase.
“Just popping in for a minute!” she called out to one of the props guys, just in case. That way they wouldn’t look for her if she went “missing,” especially without her car in the lot.
She simmered with anticipation—and a kind of joy, she realized. The same surge of deep vitality she’d felt lying in the bear’s embrace in the shade of the sunflowers. This, then, was what trusting your gut truly meant. Even what Roman believed in when he said people “just knew.” It went beyond thought, she understood now. Beyond words.
She knew.
And trusted.
She hadn’t even brought the flashlight because she didn’t need it—for light or for self-defense. The shadows grew deeper. Round and round she rattled down the spiral stairs, the lower-level air chilly on her bare arms and legs, the rubber soles of her sneakers squeaking on the metal steps.
In her haste her foot slipped, skidded, and flew off the edge. Her stomach plummeted, the gasping terror of the fall flooding her.
The hard jerk of her shoulder flashed sharp pain as her grip on the rail yanked her back, her butt slamming against the steps, knocking the breath from her lungs.
“Shit,” she gasped. Not so invincible, after all. “Pay better attention, Christy, would you?”
“Yes.” The golden voice rolled up from below. “Have a care. You’re counted as precious by others.”
She peered down through the stairwell grate but couldn’t make him out. “Master?”
“Who else?”
“Sometimes I’m not sure if all the voices I hear are yours.”
“Understandable.”
“Is it?” She pulled herself up, strained shoulder protesting, and descended the last few spirals. “Do you hear them, too?”
“Of course.”
“Who are they?”
“Come with me and see. They wait to meet you.” A shadow separated itself from the darkness. He removed his hat with a sweep, to bow to her. In the bare light filtering from above, his half mask concealed his face and his white-blond hair gleamed.
A small silence fell between them.
“Have you come to me?”
It felt like the moment the proposal should have been. The question asked as a formality because both hearts already knew the answer.
“Yes.”
“Then come.”
He opened his arms and she hurtled herself into his embrace. She pressed herself to him, drinking in his scent, man and more. The vibrant energy that infused him streamed through her and she wanted him, so deeply she thought she would weep from need. She raised her face to his and his mouth descended on her,
And somehow, whatever she’d done, the magic of blood and love had fixed a piece of him forever in this realm.
A young boy—yelling at the top of his lungs, face covered in melted ice cream—barreled up the path and between them, forcing them apart. Hally watched him go, her eyebrows raised. “Guess you were right.”
“Eh.” Christy shrugged. “It’s good for there to be life here.”
“Look who’s less grumpy now.”
“What does it mean, when an animal is white?”
“In most mythologies, it means that it’s a spirit form.”
“Like the white stag in the Arthurian tales.”
“Exactly.”
They got back to Hally’s car, the sun sinking low, and she pulled back out to the highway. “Where to?” Hally asked in a chipper tone.
“Would you drop me off at the opera house?”
“Thought so.”
Though it was late on a Saturday, people were there working—mainly the props and scenery crews—putting in extra hours. With dress rehearsals kicking into gear in the next week, it suddenly seemed as if a mountain of work loomed. Nobody was surprised to see Christy and, likewise, nobody paid much attention when she tossed off a wave and headed down the spiral staircase.
“Just popping in for a minute!” she called out to one of the props guys, just in case. That way they wouldn’t look for her if she went “missing,” especially without her car in the lot.
She simmered with anticipation—and a kind of joy, she realized. The same surge of deep vitality she’d felt lying in the bear’s embrace in the shade of the sunflowers. This, then, was what trusting your gut truly meant. Even what Roman believed in when he said people “just knew.” It went beyond thought, she understood now. Beyond words.
She knew.
And trusted.
She hadn’t even brought the flashlight because she didn’t need it—for light or for self-defense. The shadows grew deeper. Round and round she rattled down the spiral stairs, the lower-level air chilly on her bare arms and legs, the rubber soles of her sneakers squeaking on the metal steps.
In her haste her foot slipped, skidded, and flew off the edge. Her stomach plummeted, the gasping terror of the fall flooding her.
The hard jerk of her shoulder flashed sharp pain as her grip on the rail yanked her back, her butt slamming against the steps, knocking the breath from her lungs.
“Shit,” she gasped. Not so invincible, after all. “Pay better attention, Christy, would you?”
“Yes.” The golden voice rolled up from below. “Have a care. You’re counted as precious by others.”
She peered down through the stairwell grate but couldn’t make him out. “Master?”
“Who else?”
“Sometimes I’m not sure if all the voices I hear are yours.”
“Understandable.”
“Is it?” She pulled herself up, strained shoulder protesting, and descended the last few spirals. “Do you hear them, too?”
“Of course.”
“Who are they?”
“Come with me and see. They wait to meet you.” A shadow separated itself from the darkness. He removed his hat with a sweep, to bow to her. In the bare light filtering from above, his half mask concealed his face and his white-blond hair gleamed.
A small silence fell between them.
“Have you come to me?”
It felt like the moment the proposal should have been. The question asked as a formality because both hearts already knew the answer.
“Yes.”
“Then come.”
He opened his arms and she hurtled herself into his embrace. She pressed herself to him, drinking in his scent, man and more. The vibrant energy that infused him streamed through her and she wanted him, so deeply she thought she would weep from need. She raised her face to his and his mouth descended on her,
Similar Books
