Gold: A Bandia Novel Part 36

I wait for my eyes to clear, then push up on my elbows. Bronwyn kneels over me, the knife raised. I kick out, making contact with her wrist. She drops the knife, and I scramble for it. Gwyn jumps on top of me, her arm around my throat. I strike her in the ribs with my elbow.

Gold light shines behind us. Gwyn turns to look over her shoulder, giving me the opening I need to break her hold and grab the knife. I spin onto my back holding the knife in front of me. Gwyn backs away as I get to my feet.

Austin appears in his G.o.d form next to Danu. He thrusts his sword at Danu's chest.

"No!" I yell.

He turns toward my voice. He lowers his sword and runs to me.

"How dare you!" Danu's face is filled with fury. Her hands fill with fire. She raises her palm toward Austin. I don't have to do the math to know how this equation ends.

I throw the knife as hard as I can, watching helplessly as it lands perfectly in the center of Danu's chest. The fire in her hand dies as she falls to the ground.

Gwyn laughs from somewhere behind me.

Bronwyn crawls to her mother and pulls the knife from her chest, but it's too late. Danu is dead.

I killed her.

Bronwyn lifts the b.l.o.o.d.y knife, her face twisting into a grotesque mask. She runs toward me with the knife drawn.

The movement barely registers. I know I need to defend myself. To run. Something. But I'm too shocked to do anything but note the familiar hue of grief in Bronwyn's eyes.

I close my eyes, waiting for the knife to hit. I see the gold behind my eyes, and open them in time to see Austin standing over Bronwyn's lifeless body, his sword dripping with blood.

The blue sky above us turns so gray it's almost black. Fat drops of rain start to fall all around us.

"I'm sorry," he mouths.

The water comes down so hard, it's impossible to see anything but shadows moving behind the sheets of rain. I see the outline of Austin, his sword at this side. Perfect. Strong.

Then he's swallowed by the darkness.

I sit down in the mud, letting the rain pelt my skin. With Gwyn's laughter fading behind me, I finally cry.

SIXTY-TWO.

Rancho Domingo High School feels different to me now. It's not just because I'm a senior, not just that people don't look past me like they did for most of the last three years. It's that everything is dull and washed out, coated in a gauzy film of indifference.

Austin thought life was precious because it ended, such an easy thing to say when you have your whole life ahead of you. All I can think of is how pointless life is without him in it.

Christy and Haley find their new lockers and coordinate a spot for our lunch meet up, but I barely listen. This is what we fought for. Normalcy. And I can't help wondering if this flat gray existence was worth the price.

"Whoa. Hot guy alert." Christy stands up straighter and flips her hair over her shoulder. Haley turns her head. "Nice. Dibs. You already have a boyfriend."

I can't bring myself to care enough to look up.

"He's coming over." Christy bounces on her heels.

I keep my eyes on the ground, studying a patch of dirt.

"Brianna?"

The soft Irish lilt jolts me to life. I lift my head and almost forget that it can't be Austin. That it never can be.

Mick stands a few feet away, his red hair cut into a modern style. His hands are stuffed awkwardly into the pockets of black jeans. Even without the mutton chops, he stands too straight to pa.s.s for a high school boy. I feel myself start to smile.

"You know him?" Christy watches me with new respect. I haven't told them much about my summer in Ireland. They know that there was a battle and that people died. And that I don't want to talk about it.

I wave Mick over. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugs as he walks toward us. "I inherited a house here."

Austin's house. "That doesn't explain what you're doing at R.D. High," I say.

Mick's eyes flit to Christy and Haley, before they settle on me. "I thought I'd stay awhile."

I nod, letting the full weight of his words sink in. Mick is not going to opt out of his role as a giolla. He's going to try to stay on earth for at least a little while longer. I guess it makes sense that he'd want to be close to Joe now. And Sam will be with Braden at U.R.D.

I barely have time to introduce Mick to Haley and Christy before the first bell rings. Haley and Christy head off in the direction of their first period dance cla.s.s, but Mick doesn't move. "The horses will be here next week," he says.

"You're bringing the horses?"

"I was hoping you would help me train them to jump. I think Tally, especially, could benefit from the extra exercise."

"Okay." I feel a small smile forming on my lips. Panda would make a cute hunter. And Tally's athleticism would probably make him a fabulous jumper, if I can figure out how to rein him in. "What makes you think I can get Tally under control?"

"This from the girl who brought a G.o.d to his knees?"

My heart constricts in my chest. No one has mentioned Austin since I've been back.

"Sorry, I didn't mean-" Mick pulls a folded piece of paper out of his front pocket. "Maybe you could help me find my first cla.s.s?"

"You're really going to high school?"

"I thought you understood."

"I'm not following."

"If I stay, I have to align myself with someone."

Me? "A giolla wants to align with a bandia?"

"It's not the first time."

I'm guessing there's a story there. "I don't think I qualify anymore."

"You qualify whether you want to believe it or not."

Mick looks different with his new haircut and clothes, but it's still impossible to look at him, impossible to hear his accent, without thinking of Austin. Before I can stop myself, I blurt, "I miss him so much."

He swallows. "Me too."

Students move around us, racing to stake out seats in their new cla.s.ses. Mick and I stand frozen. I see the answering sadness in his eyes.

"There's no one to talk to," he says. No one who knew him."

I close my eyes. He's right. It's been so hard to keep it all inside. There's no one I can talk to about what happened with Austin. No one who will understand.

Mick pushes the crumpled schedule at me.

I take it from him and unfold it. "You have AP Calculus?"

"Don't sound so surprised. I was educated at Oxford."

"When, in the 1800s?"

"And the 1960s. Most recently in 1998."

I laugh. It's a foreign sound on my lips. "I had you pegged for a Cambridge man."

He opens his mouth in disbelief.

"You know you don't have to do this."

"I don't have to do anything. I am giolla." His posture changes, becoming impossibly straighter. As he says the words, there is no question of the power he wields. The power to compel human behavior. To maintain a delicate balance. To restore a G.o.d's powers.

I meet his gaze. "Is there a way?" Can Mikel bring Austin back to me?

Mick takes the schedule from me. The second bell rings. He looks around the empty hall. "We're late."

"If we're going to hang out, you can't dodge my questions." I can't hide the desperation in my voice. I can't stop the tide of hope that rises in my chest. Mick is more powerful than a G.o.d.

"It's forbidden."

"But possible."

"The giolla cannot afford to indulge self-interest. It would upset the balance."

"I don't care about balance. I care about Austin." It feels good to say it out loud. I want to scream it at the top of my lungs. I'm tired of holding it in.

"You should care about balance." Mick rests a hand on my shoulder. "It's the only thing that keeps this world from falling into complete chaos."

My chest floods with warmth, a soothing heat that blooms from the inside and floats outward. I feel myself smile without knowing what I'm smiling about. I break free of Mick's hold and the warmth is gone. "Are you using Compulsion?"

"I'm trying to help."

"Don't."

"Fair enough." He looks back down at the crumpled paper in his hand. "Shall we do this?" He stares at the schedule, but I know he's not talking about high school. He's asking to become my ally.

"That depends. Will you let me call you Mick?" He almost smiles. "You're going to do it anyway."

"Okay, Mick. Is that it? No blood oath or allegiance spell?"

"That's it."

"Then I guess we better get you to Calc before it's too late to pretend that you're still learning your way around campus."

"I am still learning my way."

"You'd think after a couple thousand years, you'd have things figured out."

Mick does smile now. "You would think."

He doesn't say anything as we make our way into cla.s.s. We have to sit a few rows apart since we're too late to pick our seats, but every once in a while, I glance up and see him there, scribbling on his notepad as if this cla.s.s is the most important thing in the world to him.

It's all review from last year, so I don't have to pay much attention, which is good, because all at once the world is in Technicolor. The green of the chalkboard, the threads of pink running through the beige carpet, the deep blue of the ink spilling from my pen, all compete for attention, forming a rainbow of promise.

Of possibility.

About the Author.

Talia Vance has worked as a horse trainer, a freelance writer, and an attorney. She is a.n.a.lytical, practical, and a hopeless romantic. She lives in Northern California with her husband, children, and a needy Saint Bernard named Huckleberry. Talia always thought she'd grow up to write "the Great American Novel," but her tastes ran more along the lines of torrid romances and fast-paced thrillers. So did her life. But that's another story.

Visit Talia online at www.TaliaVance.com..

end.