The Saint (34 page)

Well, that's true. There's always suicide
.
Mom liked that one
.

There are others
. . . .

Yes, they just weren't easy. Would she embrace enlightenment and pursue knowledge of her fey nature, or would she cling to the comfort of what remained of her ignorance? Would she be brave and go with dignity to her Fate—

Eat me heart. Drink my soul. Love me to death.

—or would she resist to the end, no matter how much it hurt her or Kris?

The one thing that seemed certain was that she would have to choose. If she stayed here on the fence, the war would escalate and someone or something would end up firebombing her while she chose sides.

Adora summed it up:
Look, you want a guarantee. Unfortunately, with love you get no warranties.

Kris laughed unhappily at himself. What an animalistic display. He'd done everything but beat on his chest and howl. He was lucky she hadn't screamed and jumped off the cliff when he'd come leaping at her.

Still, the experience wasn't a total loss. As a consolation prize for the failure of his control and dignity, he'd had an emotional epiphany—an erection too; the first in a century—so perhaps they were related. Certainly both were amazing. But at what cost was this insight? Adora had to have some real misgivings about trusting her safety to him now that he had admitted needing her.

But she hadn't fled, had she? She had just kissed him back with all the passion of a dying woman fighting for air.

Kris rubbed his face.

No, she hadn't fled. And as he held her, he had wanted to tell Adora what he realized—that he knew she
really was the one,
the other half of his soul he had never known was missing, his salvation.

But though she pressed herself against him in surrender, her beautiful eyes had been only halffilled with sensual entreaty. The rest had been something akin to panic, and he had realized that it was at least partly the Goddess's magic driving her, which she was both aware and frightened of. Then she had asked about his need to find Gaia. That hadn't seemed the moment to announce he thought he loved her and wanted her to be with him forever—with him in Cadalach, trying to save an ungrateful world. It would be challenge enough to make her understand what it meant to have sex with a death fey—after all, losing herself was what she feared most. His imagination faltered at trying to make her understand his greater mission.

But if she said yes . . .

At the thought of finally making love to her, blood swam back into his loins.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered to the air. “I understand what you want, O Goddess. But you'll just have to wait. She needs time, and I'm going to give it to her.”

Propelled by restless limbs, Adora wandered the mound, ruminating fruitlessly.

That other voice she sometimes heard, coming from either Kris or the Goddess—
“Eat my heart. Drink my soul. Love me to death.”
—was the embodiment, or maybe she meant
dis
embodiment, of her deepest fear; losing herself, being overwhelmed by someone or something until even her mind was eclipsed. But much of that fear was gone now that she was back inside—or pushed down so far that she couldn't find it—and her thoughts kept returning to Kris and how much she needed to be with him, to see his plans through. Whatever those plans might be, above and beyond having her write this biography. If he still wanted her to write it.

If
you
still want to write it.

Yeah. That might be a problem. She wasn't feeling real focused or creative. Once in a while she'd had a story that laid down by the side of the road and refused to move on when she wanted. She knew from experience that whipping the literary beast did no good. All she could do was wait patiently until it agreed that it was time to move again.

That may be true. But aren't you dodging the real issue here?

Yes, she was. The book was nothing. She wanted Kris desperately. What she needed to know was if she was being coerced by some outside force—the Goddess—into hungering for him. Or did she want Kris because . . . well, simply because she wanted him. Once she had this figured out, she could begin to address the matter of
how
she felt about
what
she felt.

“Can't you give me some sign?” she muttered, uncertain to whom she was speaking. “Some little hint that I'm not just a convenient pawn in some cosmic chess game?”

“Oh—I'd be real careful what I asked for around here,” a voice said behind her. When she turned, he added, “I'm Zayn. You might not remember me. There were rather a lot of us when you arrived.”

They sure do grow them handsome around here,
Joy mentioned.

“Hello.” Adora looked at the outstretched hand, feeling wary of touching him. He looked normal, but she hadn't forgotten what Io had said about being vulnerable to other magical beings. She needed another male attraction like she needed measles.

“Oh, are you having flashover?” Zayn asked, dropping his hand. “It's okay. I know it can be overwhelming until you learn to control it.”

Flashover? That can't be good.

“It is all a bit much,” Adora admitted, also wondering what flashover was and if she could ask Zayn to go away. Assuming she wanted him to.

You don't know anything today, do you?

Isn't that what I've been saying?

And saying and saying. Yes.

“So, what are you thinking so hard about?” Zayn asked, falling in beside her.

Resigned to the company and probably some highly personal questions, Adora sighed and resumed walking.

“What am I thinking about? That I'm on the verge of embarking on an affair with a man who was worshipped as a god—many times—especially by women. A god who, though adored by millions, never got around to marrying any of them.” That wasn't exactly the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but it would do for an explanation for now.

Zayn laughed. “Yeah, as I heard it, women always fell for Kris like rain out of the clouds. It's all that pent-up power in him. Sometimes he almost sparks.” Seeing Adora's frown, he went on quickly, “And he appreciated them too, like a shower of rain: needy, life-sustaining, beautiful. But just like drops of rain, every woman he met was pretty much like every other. There was no one important until you. If that's all that's worrying you, don't give it another thought. You're the one. The Goddess thinks so, too.”

Bully for the Goddess. I feel so much better
.

They walked through an archway and into a tunnel of black glass. Adora looked furtively at her reflection strolling beside her. The woman in the mirror seemed a little wild-eyed, flushed and disheveled.

Suffering from love or fiu—those two things are hard to hide
, Joy said.

I'm not in love
.
It's just . . . very strong attraction
.

“Was he really so hot, even back then?” she asked. “I suppose he was. I mean, he was a god. Kris even said that with enough money or power, a cannibal with a hunchback and tentacles would be thought attractive by some women.”

“Kris isn't a cannibal. And I'm his doctor, so I know he doesn't have tentacles,” Zayn said seriously, this time not noticing Adora's stare of disbelief. “Are you worried about species compatibility? He isn't a shapeshifter or anything. Didn't Io explain that sirens and death feys are a great match,
even if one is Seelie and the other Unseelie? Physically, you'll be a good fit.”

“She said they were a strong match, yes,” Adora admitted.

“The strongest,” Zayn agreed. “Most magical matings are like Superglue, but sirens and death feys go together like two-part epoxy. I envy you that.”

Two-part epoxy?
Joy queried.

I'm not going to ask.

“Did you know that the red corpuscles in human blood replace themselves every one hundred and twenty days?” Zayn asked. He went on earnestly: “But in feys, it's just six—and in Kris, less than four. Human skin cells replace themselves every five days; in feys it takes only three hours. And Kris . . . his tissue regeneration is almost instantaneous. Even the scars of his disembowelment will be gone in another few days. More importantly, we make exact copies—unlike human cells that can alter if exposed to strong environmental influences. We don't have cancer or birth defects. The only thing that can hurt us is the high doses of radiation the solar flares sometimes throw off. They can shoot right through our thinning ozone and zap us if we're aboveground. That may have killed your dad. Of course, you're going to be fine. Already you're healing, and your children would be perfectly normal and healthy. In fact, they'll be amazing. I can't wait to see them.”

Adora felt the words like a blow to the stomach.

I guess we finally know what the Goddess is after— and it isn't just to “get Kris back in touch with Gaia,”
Joy remarked.

“What?
Children?
” Adora repeated the word like
she had never heard it before. Her tone was odd enough to give Zayn pause and make him really look at her.

“Yeah. Children,” he said impatiently. “Didn't you know? It's what the Goddess wants. Especially Kris's children. It's the plan.”

“Whose plan? Hers? Or Kris's?”

“Well, Hers especially. But probably Kris's too. Though with Kris, you never can tell.”

No, you never can tell, can you?

Adora laughed harshly. The ugly sound echoed around them, and it clearly startled Zayn. “Well, wantin' ain't gettin'. Children! That is just not happening. Hell, I can barely bring myself to face the idea of loving Kris. I can't . . .” Adora swallowed the rest of her words, not wanting to let the dam of her fear burst on this near-stranger.

“Well, whatever. Just know that Kris is important to the plan. Our fates are all intertwined, and if the Goddess so much as sneezes we all catch a cold,” Zayn answered, not trying to conceal his skepticism with her protests of independence. “Listen, if you're going to wander around down here you need to know some things. The goblins have an arsenal of new psychotropic drugs they've been experimenting with. They leave us little care packages sometimes, so be careful if you go into the dead zone. Don't touch anything, especially if it glows,” he warned.

“Also, some of the walls have been plastered with a methamphetamine amalgam that sticks like dog shit on a new shoe. It gets above a certain temperature and it starts out-gassing. It gets into the lungs. Re-breathers help, but it can also pass through the skin. This stuff is like crack and it heads right for the central nervous system. It's a blast if you're human—until your heart explodes, of course—but it also revs up fey metabolism and makes it easier to access our magic.”

“And that's bad, right?” Adora asked.

“For someone like Kris, yeah. Real bad. Especially with all the bad karma and ghosts down in some of those tunnels. They were killing-grounds during the last uprising. Well, the uprising before the last.”

“What about me?” she asked patiently. “Is it bad for me?”

“You may be all right—as long as you don't act as a focus for Kris for a while, or end up catching his spillover magic and doing something rash. You don't have any problems with causing earthquakes, do you?”

Not earthquakes, just a fire or two.

“What do you mean? Why would I be okay when Kris isn't?”

“Well, it's like I was saying before. Feys are loaded with cytokines—healing proteins,” Zayn explained. “Our brains—in the thymus—manufacture them at thousands of times the levels found in most humans. They boost our ability to heal and avoid infection, and resist certain goblin drugs. They're what prolong our physical lives. But something got screwed up in Kris's brain.”

“But . . . what about the Goddess?” Adora asked. “Isn't She responsible for—well, everything? Even finding you proper mates. Why doesn't She just heal him?”

Mates. I hate that word,
Joy complained.
It's so Tarzan and Jane.

“Sure she's responsible. She made the cytokines. And she'll heal Kris when it's time. I think she won't do it now because she'd probably have to kill and then reincarnate him. Which she could, I guess.” Zayn looked thoughtful.

Adora stared at him, utterly appalled. She could feel her outrage at this suggestion rising. He looked at her and shook his head.

“Look, I don't mean to be short and rude, but you need to stop thinking like a brainwashed human if you really want to understand what's going on. And I think you'll feel better when you do know and accept your part. We, the fey, don't have the problem of using both science and religion to understand the world. Divinity and medicine can exist side by side, neither diminishing the other in importance. Once you believe—once you know that both are real— you no longer fear that science will shake your faith. Nor will your faith interfere with study and the practical applications of science. And, frankly, you're going to have to learn to mix practicality with faith if you're going to stay with Kris, because the man is driven by both.”

“I know.” And she did. Adora defated as her anger went south. Joy had made the point earlier; if she chose to stay she would be living in a battle zone, the second tallest target on the battlefield next to the commanding general. Adora stopped and turned to face Zayn. “Look, I'll see you later. Right now, I want to be alone.”

“Okay, but don't go anywhere that has bad air— and don't touch anything.”

“You said that already.” Adora turned away. “Bye.”

“Merry we meet, merry we part, merry we meet again,” Zayn answered.

Annoying bastard, isn't he?
Joy sniffed.
It's probably all bullshit. He's just trying to get you to do what he wants—what a manipulator.