Page 34 of Magpie
“This doesn’t have to be an evil thing, Irina,” he whispers, resting his lips against my ear.
“How is killing innocent people not evil?” I ask, my voice breaking alongside my heart as I spin in his arms and stare up at him. I’m begging him with my eyes to come back to me.
“We wouldn’t choose the innocent, Irina,” he croons, cupping my face and melting me with his gaze. “I would seek out those who deserve it. We would choose thieves, murderers, the truly wicked. We would be doing the world a service. Can you not see that, my dove?”
“I don’t want to be judge, jury, and executioner, Alister,” I say, pulling away from his hand. His eyes narrow, the first trickle of irritation showing in his gaze. I do not back down as I meet him with a hard stare of my own. “The mere thought of it makes me sick.”
“You don’t have to be involved in any of it, my dove,” he says, smiling down at me, trying to gain control of the situation. He grips my hands and pulls them to his lips, kissing the backs of them in turn. “I will do it alone. I will guide the key holder, and you can remain blissfully unaware.”
He is looking at me like he’s offering me some great reward. Like we aren’t discussing killing hundreds of people. Even in the warmth of his embrace, I feel entirely turned to stone, cold and stiff, and it takes more energy than I thought I had in me to pull my hands from his and back up. A single step, but it feels like the first one down a path that leads away from him.
“No.”
I whisper the single word, but my ears ring as though I screamed it. I have never once denied Alister, never thought I had the strength to do it. His brows knit in confusion, like he cannot fully understand the simple refusal.
“My dove,” he begins to say, a placating smile gracing his lips, but my heart is cracking wide open in my chest, and I can stand to hear him no longer.
“No, Alister,” I snap, cutting him off, taking several more staggering steps backward. I turn and flee from his study, fueled by anguish and resolve.
He doesn’t chase me, but he does shout, “I would do anything to keep you alive, Irina. I thought you would do the same for me.”
His words chase me like wolves, pouncing and biting exactly as he knew they would. I stop in my tracks, thinking back on the night when I stole those books from the witch, the night that changed my life. Maybe she was glad to be free of the books and their intoxicating power. Maybe she knew they are closer to a curse than a gift.
Maybe she knew that when I stole Alister from death’s grip, I was nailing my own coffin shut.
I’m standing by a large window with crushed red velvet drapes. Although this house is a normal brownstone, nestled between other brick buildings with no yard to speak of, the window reveals a vast green field as far as I can see. There is a thick, dark forest lining the back of the field, and although it was bright on the city streets, here there is a gentle rainfall outside.
Years spent inside the House have made me accustomed to seeing the scenery and structure shift and change to suit Alister’s needs. I suppose Alister learned that trick fromhim. Glancing over my shoulder, I look at Ronan as he enters the room, holding two etched crystal glasses each filled with a clear spherical ice cube and a rusty brown liquid. He stops in front of me, offering me one of the glasses. I glance at it once before looking back at the field.
“Not thirsty?” he asks as I study the raindrops trailing down the window.
“Not in the way that you can help with,” I mutter, before turning to him and crossing my arms. “Where is the key?” I demand.
Ronan watches me for a moment longer with those sharp neon-blue eyes, the ones that speak of ancient powers. Turning, he sets one of the glasses beside me before coming to stand next to me and watching the rain.
“I have a few questions before I’m going to hand over a thing of great power,” he says, and I scowl up at him. He doesn’t even flinch in my presence, completely undaunted by the simmering death that rolls off me in waves.
“I don’t have time for questions,” I snap, narrowing my eyes at him. “I need to get that key before he comes to find me again.”
He finally turns to regard me, shrugging nonchalantly as he takes another sip. “Alister cannot enter my house. As long as you are here, you’re safe from him.”
“I’m not safe from being without my key,” I hiss, turning away and beginning to pace the room. I feel just as trapped as I did inside Irina’s store, in front of yet another mage who I have no intention of trusting. As far as I’m concerned, he’s just as responsible for Alister as Irina is.
“That was going to be one of my questions,” Ronan says, getting my attention. I glance at him as I continue to pace. “How long, exactly, have you been away from Alister, and how long have you been without your key? Judging by the shades that cling to your aura, I’m guessing five days?”
“Six,” I say, coming to a halt and studying him. “Where is the key?”
“It’s not that simple,” he says, setting down his now empty glass and stuffing his hands in his pockets. “The preparations for the creation of the key will take time, and I’m trying to determine if you even have time to spare.”
I swallow hard, not sure I want the answer, but asking anyway, “Do I?”
He takes out his pocket watch, flipping it open and shifting between studying its face and my eyes. He winces, and my heart plummets.
He places the watch back in his pocket. “Yes. Barely, but yes,” he says, flicking his gaze to the door behind me with a scowl before barking, “Lyric, if you’re going to listen at the door, you might as well make yourself useful and get in here.”
I turn to find Lyric stepping into the office, showing no shame at being caught eavesdropping. Ronan storms by me, stopping at a desk and grabbing a pen and Moleskine notebook, flipping it open and tearing a page from it. I’m reminded suddenly of Alister and the scribbled spells and incantations in his many notebooks.
Ronan finishes his hastily written note and holds it out to Lyric. “Get these items.”
