I took the last step, a feeling of finality stealing my breath as a soft glow of light that seemed to come from nowhere pulsed from the ceiling. Finally, I could see the full scope of the basement, and what a room it was. At first sight, it reminded me of something out of a decadent 1950s reenactment of Cleopatra, or some other epic tale. But as I took in the whole of it, I realized it held to an older tradition, dating to pre-Christian civilization-Celtic more than likely. Beautiful didn’t begin to describe this room. Reverent wouldn’t do justice to the emotions swelling in my chest. This sacred place assaulted my senses, my emotions. I’d never felt so safe, or so right. Somehow, a kinship formed between me and this place; I was meant to be here. I had to stop, shrinking to my knees as I caught my breath and stilled my quaking limbs.
Trees lined the walls. Growing out of nothing, they were yet vibrant and living. Rowan, alder, ash, birch, cedar, and other trees I couldn’t name shot up into an impossibly tall ceiling-too tall not to be an illusion. Like the sky, it twinkled with stars and then changed, showcasing a dark sky and a full opal moon. White candles burned, the wicks never seeming to diminish and the flames unwavering with the disturbance of my passing. A long, rectangular pool ran the length of the room, splitting it down the middle, and sparkling orbs of different colors swam about in light blue water.
As I walked, the false sky changed again, lightening by slow degrees, streaked with pinks and deep burnt oranges. The basement became bright with the light of morning sun, and I could sense the leaves of the trees shifting and reaching toward sustenance. In the full light, I could finally see to the end of the room, its length and width again too vast to be real. And at the end of Reaver’s basement, atop a granite column, sat the hourglass.
It looked like any other, really, except that it was one half of a whole. Grains of golden sand glistened inside it, gathering at the bottom as if they poured from the top half that used to be there. When at last the glass filled, the flecks of gold reversed their path, floating upward and disappearing into nothing. I watched in awe as the cycle repeated itself once more, my hand resting at my thigh, cupping the pendulum in my pocket.
As I stood there staring at the broken-and somehow functional-hourglass, I had an Indiana Jones moment. But I didn’t have a bag of sand to trade with the relic, and I wondered at the possibility of setting off an epic set of booby traps, rolling boulder and all. But I thought of Raif: friend, loyal brother, and wronged husband. I thought of his grief, the lengths he’d been willing to go to find his missing child, and the lengths he refused to go to despite his pain and need for answers. And goddamn it, if someone needed a ray of sunshine in his life, you could bet your ass it was Raif.
Screw it.
I plucked the hourglass from its perch.
Closed my eyes tight.
Waited for the boulder to roll on top of me.
And let out a shaky breath when nothing happened. I mean, no darts shooting from the walls? The ceiling wasn’t slowly shrinking to crush me? No giant swinging axes ready to slice me in two? The whole thing was rather anticlimactic in my opinion.
That is, until I turned around and came face-to-face with Reaver.
The weight of his stare pressed upon me just as well as any shrinking ceiling. And the accusing finger he pointed at me was no less piercing than a poison dart striking my chest. He took a step closer, and the sound of his footsteps rang in my ears like sharp metal cutting me down.
Tyler would be home from his meeting any minute. Fuck, fuck, fuck! My sword sang as the metal scraped against the scabbard, and I held it at the ready, prepared to fight for my prize.
I can’t stop you, Reaver’s voice echoed in my mind. But if you leave with the glass, the damage will be irreparable.
“That’s a neat little trick,” I said, backing away from the granite podium, sidestepping Reaver. The glamour he wore for human benefit slid away, and my jaw sagged-just a little-in awe. No wonder all of Fae-kind wore glamours. Any human would be dumbfounded to gaze upon them in their true forms. Though I can only describe him as beautiful, it didn’t detract at all from Reaver’s masculinity. His once-pale skin appeared deeper now, more bronze with a strange, golden luminescence, as if he held sunlight within him. Eyes, larger than they’d been, slanted in an alluring almond shape, and his ice blue irises ran with veins of the same golden light reflected in his skin. Still tall, still lithe, his limbs seemed even more willowy and graceful, but at the same time, his frame was powerful. Strong. And I knew that if he wanted to, Reaver could have broken me without even batting a lash. With the trees, water, and false sky as a backdrop, he looked like an ancient forest god. And, for all I knew, he was.
You’ll be nothing more than a murderer. But then again, perhaps I should expect nothing less than death from an assassin, and now a common thief.
Somebody was high-and-mighty. I took a step to the side, and then another, putting the rectangular pool between us. He mirrored my actions, taking his place at the opposite side of the water and followed me with matching steps.
Time belongs to no one, least of all me. Yet, I beg you to rethink your actions. I am the Keeper, entrusted for a reason.
“You’re not going to talk me out of this.” Forget the hip boots. I’d been caught in a shit storm of hurricane proportions. Caught in the act and not even denying my role as thief, I was as good as busted. If Reaver decided to turn me in to the PNT Council, I was bent-over-a-barrel-fucked. “I need this thing,” I said, weighing the hourglass in my hand. “I wouldn’t take it if I didn’t think I had no other choice. I’m not a thief-usually. And as for being a murderer…” I was.
You have the potential to do good things for those you love. But you will only cause them to suffer.
He continued to walk, mirroring my movement until we’d reached the end of the pool and the foot of the marble staircase. I can’t say I particularly cared for his threats, not with Tyler already suffering at the hands of malicious magic. “Are you threatening me?”
I’m providing you with the facts. Reaver’s ice blue eyes bore into mine. You’re walking a dangerous path, one that only leads toward destruction. Find your answers elsewhere, Guardian, and leave the glass with me.
Wasn’t gonna happen. His big talk was nothing more than an attempt to get me to return his trinket. This broken thing was my ticket to Raif’s daughter. She was the first piece of the puzzle. Through her, I’d be able to link to recent events. And, maybe, solve the mystery of Tyler’s illness and strange behavior. Reaver would get his glass back over my dead body. I stumbled as Reaver’s words sank in. “Why did you call me a Guardian?” And did he know that my raven-haired antagonist had called me the same thing?
He cocked a brow, and his knowing smile did little to comfort me. False sunlight glittered through the leaves of a birch tree, and I joined its company, fleeing Reaver’s presence for the main floor of the house. When I hit the top of the stairs, I slammed back into my corporeal form with all the force of a Mack truck hitting a wall. Katana at the ready, I looked around for whatever had kept me from traveling unseen. Near the foyer, my gaze found Moira.
Reaver’s sister blocked my path, her lips moving unintelligibly. I don’t know how, but she kept me confined to my solid form. Levi said Sidhe possessed some serious magic, and apparently Moira was a heavy hitter. Her eyes narrowed as she took me in from head to toe, and from behind her back she produced two wicked-looking short swords, the blades forged into a waving pattern ridged with gleaming barbs. Superhuman healing or not, if she managed to cut me with one of those, it was going to hurt like a sonofabitch.