little hands before they could snatch at my hair.
I stared at the little girl. Her eyes were brown, not hazel like mine, but for a moment, I could see myself as this child. Except by the time I’d been her age, my mother had been forced to abandon me.
The dream with all its agony roared to the forefront. I barely noticed the woman leaving with her little girl. All my attention was on Zach. He hadn’t moved. Neither had I, except for my hands. They felt like they’d left indentions in the table that I was gripping as if my life depended on it.
“What about my mother?” My voice was thick with everything she’d felt that day. “Did this destiny kill her, too? Or what about my bio father? Did he have to watch her die the way you expect Adrian to watch me die?”
“Your biological father was murdered by minions years before your mother’s death,” Zach replied with infuriating coolness. “And your mother took her own life.”
I closed my eyes, my breath hitching between a gasp and a sob. I’d known that she and all her blood relatives must be dead, but I’d hoped...what? That somewhere in this world, I still had family? How naive of me. Anyone close to a Davidian was a demon target. It should come as no surprise that my bio father had been murdered. My adoptive parents had been murdered, too. Now I had no one left except for Adrian, Jasmine and Costa, yet if I continued on this quest in a world still filled with demons, they might get murdered, too.
“Tell me it’s not all for nothing,” I said, opening my eyes and staring at Zach. “Tell me that if I use the spearhead, I will save those people. Tell me, or I am walking away from this. I refuse to sacrifice one more person for a destiny I didn’t ask for, or a quest I have no chance at succeeding at.”
“I will not tell you,” Zach said, his brown gaze turning hard. “You do not get to demand answers in advance of efforts. Either continue without knowing your quest’s resolution, or do not. The choice, as always, is yours.”
I let go of the table to bang my fists on it. “You call that a choice?”
“It is,” he said, steel coating his words now. “In fact, it is a choice at its most unbiased.”
My anger rose again, dark and deep. Did he really think I was like him? That I’d blindly obey “orders” without question or care about how it affected those I loved? “Then I choose to take my chances living instead of dying,” I said, rising from the table. “That means this is goodbye.”
He said nothing for so long, I thought he was waiting for me to leave. I started to, then I felt his hand on my arm. When I looked down at him, I expected to see anger, condemnation or his usual Archon smugness in his gaze. Instead, I saw pity, disappointment and an utter lack of surprise.
“Then this is goodbye,” Zach agreed softly.
I nodded, looking away to swipe at a tear that appeared for no reason. When I glanced back, Zach had disappeared. No one else in the dining car seemed to notice that a passenger had suddenly vanished into thin air, either. They were all too busy living their own lives, as I’d decided to do.
More tears escaped. Why did I suddenly feel bad about this? No matter Zach’s claims, he’d left me no real choice. Hadn’t I saved enough lives despite the risk to myself? It was thanks to me that most demons were locked out of our world now! Otherwise, the realm walls would have continued to crumble, and I’d seen firsthand how horrifying it was to have one of their worlds spill out into ours. Now no one would have to worry about that happening for a long, long time. Shouldn’t that alone have earned me the right to a little happiness?
It did, I decided, brushing back my tears. In fact, I’d probably saved millions of lives by sealing off the realms. I would’ve kept trying to save more, too, if Zach hadn’t arrogantly refused to tell me if I had a real chance at freeing those trapped in the realms. Why should I be the one feeling guilty? All I’d asked for was the knowledge that I wouldn’t be risking my life and everyone else’s for nothing—
Agony shot up my right arm, forcing a scream from me. Demon! I thought, expecting to see the tattoo turning a warning gold color. Yet aside from the awful burn that felt like it went straight through to my bones, the tattoo looked the same.
Then, to my shock, the braided rope etching began to fade. I grabbed it as if by doing so I could stop it from disappearing, but even as I snatched and pulled at my skin, the ancient, hallowed sling continued to dissipate, until finally, it vanished from sight. When another spine-deep pain ripped through me from shoulder to ankle, bringing me to my knees from the intensity of the invisible blow, I ripped open my blouse with a combination of agony and desperation.
The gnarled wooden outline of the staff that had marked the entire right side of my body since I’d wielded it was now fading, too. As I watched in disbelief, it disappeared until nothing but smooth skin remained. When it vanished, so did the pain, leaving me staring at my body with a stunned sort of understanding.
I’d chosen to renounce my destiny, so the hallowed weapons that had merged with my flesh had apparently chosen to renounce me.
NO ONE ELSE around me cared that I’d experienced a supernatural and existential crisis. That was clear when the nearest train attendant grabbed me, keeping me on the floor while calling out for help. He probably thought I was having a psychotic breakdown. That would be the most logical explanation for someone suddenly screaming and tearing open her blouse in the middle of the dining car, and if he’d known my mental health history, he would have really believed that.
Since I didn’t want to experience Europe’s version of a padded cell, I quickly fabricated a story about being allergic to bees and saying I’d thought one had gotten inside my blouse. Not the most ingenious excuse, but luckily, the attendant spoke English, and my story was enough to stop them from continuing to restrain me. I was in the middle of getting up and apologizing to everyone when Adrian stormed into the dining car.
“I heard you scream. What happened?” he demanded.
I held my torn blouse together with one hand and patted him with the other. “Nothing. I thought I saw a bee, and I panicked. You know how allergic I am.”
He pulled me close, his gaze flicking around in a predatory manner. He knew I was lying, so he was coiled and ready to attack.
I couldn’t tell him what had really happened here, so I tugged him toward the back of the dining car. “I’m so embarrassed. Let’s just go back to our cabin now.”
He glanced down—and froze. A hiss escaped him as he stared at the newly blank skin on my right hand. “Ivy—”
“Cabin. Please,” I repeated, tugging him harder.
He grasped my hand and walked out of the dining car. I had to nearly run to keep up with his rapid strides, not that I minded. I wanted to get away from all the stares leveled my way.
We ran into Jasmine and Costa in the hallway of our train car. Costa’s hand was in his jacket pocket, and I saw a very suspicious bulge protruding from the fabric. I realized he’d heard my scream and jumped to the wrong conclusion, too.
“Put that away,” I hissed. All we needed was for someone to glimpse the outline of the gun and assume that he was about to commit a terrorist attack.
“What
