Page 39 of Soulbound Shadows: Part 2

“The ley line travel,” she clarified. “Does it still feel like thinking you’re gonna drown?”

I thought about it for a moment, which probably wasn’t reassuring. “No,” I said finally. “It still feels dangerous, though. I’ve gotta be careful with it so I don’t get lost.”

“Marcus is making you a map,” Isabella told me. “That’s his surprise project.”

“I’ll act really surprised when he tells me,” I promised. “But I don’t mean that sort of lost.”

Isabella nodded. She didn’t look at me, just stared at the charred tree. “Back when I was doing dark magic, it was really… Fuck, I dunno, easy sometimes. It was easier to use it than not use it.” She seemed to realize that she was still holding my arm and let go, twisting her hands together in her lap. “You know I’ve lost people to dark magic.”

I nodded.

“I was… scared,” she said, struggling to get the words out. “Scared for you when you were cursed, but also scared of what you could do. I hated seeing you lose control like that, and then… you know, with Theo…”

“I know,” I said, barely louder than a whisper. “And I know it doesn’t change anything, but I was scared, too.”

Isabella turned and looked me squarely in the eye for the first time in a long time. “Good,” she said fiercely. “You have a terrifying amount of power, Evangeline. It should scare you, you hear me? It should. Don’t start getting complacent about it. You don’t create it, you just channel it, and it can turn on you no matter how strong you are. Especially if you’re strong sometimes. Stay alert.”

“I will,” I promised her, a little taken aback. “I will.”

She inspected my face, then nodded sharply. We sat side by side and watched Lissa pick flowers. She’d gotten a pretty massive armful by that point.

“Are you up for another jump?” I asked after a little while.

“Back to the house, yes. More sightseeing? Absolutely not.” Isabella sounded warm and wry, so much closer to the woman I was used to.

I laughed. “Back home it is,” I said. “Lissa! C’mon! We’re headed back!”

When we got back to the safe house, Lissa went straight in, but Isabella stopped me before I could follow.

“Hey. Do you maybe want to spar? Or just, you know, run through some forms? I wanna see what your new magic can do.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’d really like that.”

It wasn’t actual sparring, more like tai chi, with slow moves that could turn deadly if needed. We could read each other well enough that even with my new strength, Isabella more or less held her own, although in a real fight, I would’ve beaten her easily.

After a while, Lissa came back out, dragging an old lawn chair. She set it up on the grass a safe distance away, lounged on it, then pulled a synth-blood pouch out of her bra. She cheered for both of us, swapping who she was supporting at random.

That was how Gabriel found us.

“Perhaps we should be focusing our attention elsewhere,” he called when we paused. “On Morgana, for instance.”

Lissa booed enthusiastically, but I dropped my stance. He was probably right. Besides, we’d been going for ages, and I was sweaty, out of breath, and sore. I rubbed at my chest absently; it was aching again. He sauntered over and slung an arm around my waist, even though I was all gross, and I stretched up for a kiss.

“Just making sure I don’t get rusty,” I said. “Plus, if I keep practicing my teleportation, I’m gonna get motion sick, and I don’t want to sit around the safe house.”

“About that,” Gabriel said. “I thought we could make a trip into town.”

“Seriously?” I asked, delighted.

“Heavily disguised,” he hedged.

“Yeah, no. Disguises, totally,” I said. “I’ve been wanting to go into town and check on Chanel and Pothos. Chanel can keep Pothos fed and everything, but when he’s bored he gets… well, let’s just say I usually try not to let him get too bored. Lemme get cleaned up first, okay?”

Gabriel nodded. He looked like he was somewhere else. Was he stressed about his mother leaving?

In our room, I grabbed a change of clothes and went to the tiny bathroom. I considered a real shower, but I was too eager to get going, so I wet a washcloth, planning to scrub down quickly. I managed to get out of my shirt without slamming my elbow into anything, which, in a bathroom that small, was a real achievement. As I looked myself over in the mirror, I spotted a thread hanging down from the band of my bra, right at the center. I swiped at it absently, then frowned.

It wasn’t a thread. It was a hairline crack in my chest.

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