Page 55 of Somewhere down the Ley Line
“You have a wide definition ofalive,” Felix said flatly.
Luella shrugged. “Maybe he has something useful to say, while he still can.”
Alwin’s eyes cracked open at their words, and his gaze locked on Felix.
“There he is, the fool…” Alwin rasped. “Is she that good in the sack that you’re so hung up? I bet she’s a crazy one…” he laughed, a horrible, wet sound that dissolved into a weak cough. Felix gritted his teeth.
“Who hired the Duskrend?”
Alwin turned his head to the side and spat out a thick glob of blood. “Fuck you.”
Isolde joined them, her posture rigid, looking down at Alwin with a detachment Felix had not expected of her. Alwin’s bloodshot eyes drifted to her.
“Witch…” he hissed. “Abomination… Don’t think you have won… anything. The Archmage… has decreed. Soon… All the circles… will hunt you. You are dead. It’s only a matter… of time.” He coughed again, his eyelids slipping closed.
Isolde’s face was unreadable, but her hands clenched into fists at her side, the knuckles white. Felix gently curled his hand around hers. She didn’t look at him, but after a moment, her fingers entwined with his. They stood over Alwin in silence until his erratic breathing finally, mercifully, ceased.
When it was over, Isolde pulled free and turned away, walking off into the darkness without a word. Felix’s gaze followed her until she disappeared, leaving a cold emptiness behind.
“Where’s Leif?” Felix asked hoarsely.
Luella shook her head. “He is fine. Needed some air.” Her eyes flickered in the direction Isolde had gone.
“Right,” Felix said, his face darkening.
Garren joined them, observing Alwin’s remains with distaste. “What in the Reaper’s name was that?” he muttered, his tone low and grim. “That wasn’t uncontrolled. That wasn’t lashing out in self-defence. That was… deliberate. It was –” He struggled for the words.
Felix scowled. “Not self-defence? Are you out of your mind? If it weren’t for Isolde, we’d all be dead right now. The fuckers swarmed us. On your watch, I might add. How did that even happen?” He looked pointedly at Luella.
She bristled, throwing up her hands. “I’m not some kind of all-seeing eye, Felix!”
“Be that as it may,” Garren interrupted, choosing his words carefully. “This is not something we should encourage. You saw what happened. This can only lead to… to destruction. If she develops a… a taste for it.”
“Ataste for it?”Felix spun to Garren with an expression of disbelief. “If she develops atastefor throwing boulders at people who want herdead,I will be the first to cheer her on. It will make our job of getting her to the Nexus alive a whole lot easier, too!”
Luella’s glare was sharp enough to cut. “Do you ever stop to consider the bigger picture? Or is that too much for you? Garren’s point – which you’re clearly too thick-headed to grasp – is that we don’t know what this will do to her. Have you wielded magic? No? How can you possibly be sure it won’t affect her? Change her? Send her into some kind of… power-hungry descent?”
Felix opened his mouth to respond but faltered. She had a point, however loathe he was to admit it. He stewed in silence, frustration and unease swirling in his chest. Could it do that? Drive her mad? Would he have to follow through with her father’s instructions if that happened?
If it comes to that… If there is no other way…
“At the end of the day,” he said eventually, his voice quieter, “it’s not up to us. It’s up to her.”
He turned around and left, heading in the direction Isolde had gone. He found her by the horses, absentmindedly stroking Shadow’s neck.
“Good thing we kept them away from the fire tonight,” he said, nodding towards the animals, immediately feeling foolish for trying to make small talk. She nodded but said nothing. When she turned to face him, Felix caught the faint echo of that blue glow in her eyes.
“Are you scared of me, Felix?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Should I be?”
“The others are.”
He scoffed. “They are not scared of you. They are scaredforyou.”
“And you are not?”
He tilted his head, considering her. Beautiful, deadly. So different from the timid young lady he had met on midsummer night. The wind shifted, carrying the scent of blood and earth. “No, Isa. I’m not scared of you, or for you,” he said finally. “You’re not a little girl sticking her hand in the fire anymore.”
