Page 23 of Snag
But I don’t feel like the Conduit. I’m certainly not focused or formidable.
Coda doesn’t speak again, and I have nothing constructive to say. So I jump down and out of the trailer and close the door behind me.
Taking five deliberate steps, I stand within the overgrown orchard. Bare branches twine all around and above me. The plums and peaches must be on the verge of budding, but it will be a few more weeks for the apples and pears. I think.
I lift my face to the rain, closing my eyes to the cloud-shrouded sky, and I just try to breathe. Only for a moment.
I don’t have any choice but to be the Conduit now.
I could hide away, ride out this transition period. I could wait for the universe to nudge me into play. I could redirect Coda’s investigations into my aunt’s death and drop the pursuit of the dire mage until the universe makes it my business again.
I could ignore all the truths cracking open before me, ignore what has been stolen from me.
The phantom scars of Chains’s life force — the life I ripped from him — feel permanently etched into the skin of my forearms. A punishment from the universe for stealing Precious away from her immediate future? Just like dying on the beach while trying to rescue the young awry was a punishment.
Just like having my soul-bound mates torn away from me was a punishment?
For what?
What could I possibly have done at age seventeen to deserve losing those connections? Then being banished from my own life, set adrift when I didn’t even know it?
I take a shuddering breath, then another.
When I open my eyes, I know I’m not walking away from any part of my past or present.
I don’t give a fuck that the Conduit exists only in the present, only moves at the universe’s prompting.
I want answers.
I want what has been stolen from me.
THREE
Precious is tightly curledup on the far side of my bed under a mound of blankets and duvets, just the top of her head visible, multicolored hair fanned out across the white pillow. DeVille, once again shirtless and with his left leg still splinted, is sprawled face down on top of the covers. A lack of clothing whenever possible, but especially while sleeping, is a shifter thing. They often run hot, and the healing DeVille’s system is dealing with is also likely burning off a ton of energy.
Hovering in the doorway for fear of waking either of them, I catch the quiet rattle that underlies DeVille’s sleep-heavy breath. He’s … purring? Instinctually trying to soothe Presh in her sleep in a way she’d never let him soothe her while awake?
I’m not surprised to see them both down again. Not only does grief come with an almost suffocating exhaustion, but Presh manifested streams of pure, unfettered power last night. Nearly enough to kill her. To possibly wipe the entire town of Newport from the face of the earth. I’m surprised she woke up long enough for hugs and a late breakfast.
The two of them choosing my bed for a nap is interesting. Though at best guess, DeVille followed Precious in here after she fell asleep.
I don’t step into the room. Simply lingering in the doorway to watch them both sleep — safe and somewhat sound — is its own kind of balm for my soul.
Just to assure myself that they’ll both be okay — despite the fact that I completely failed Kris — I allow myself to look deeper than I normally like to delve.
Threads of essence flare all around Presh and DeVille, vibrant and strong.
Snipping Chains’s threads, altering his fate, might have been the only choice in that moment — for me and the universe. Because losing Precious, and DeVille for that matter, clearly wasn’t an option. Their threads are entangled, multicolored and multilayered. Both have a destiny. Or multiple destinies. And those possibilities will sharpen their focus — their draw — as Presh and DeVille each make choices and as they come into their full power.
From the intricate tapestry of fate I can now see blanketing my room, concentrated over my bed, a thin iridescent thread stretches toward me from Presh. A less vibrant connection ties DeVille to me as well.
I’m careful to not touch or interact with the energy that binds us. But I know these two are mine to protect. And not simply in the general way that all the souls inhabiting the earth are threaded through mine as the Conduit.
Presh and DeVille are mine. Me, Zaya. Not just me the Conduit.
But I knew that already, didn’t I?
From that moment in the bathroom of the Choices Cafe with Precious. That soul-deep connection we seemed to form in the moment might have always been part of ourcombined destiny. Even though I also understand I wasn’t supposed to rescue Precious just then. I wasn’t supposed to die on the beach.
