Page 54 of Her Dreadful Will
She wasn’t about to be dragged along by a ninety-pound dog, so she braced her feet and repeated, “Sit, boy,” more sternly.
Cerberus sat, grudgingly, his ears upright and his body tense, listening to the sounds of the forest.
“He’s beautiful,” said a male voice behind Soleil, and she closed her eyes for a second before turning around.
“He’s also very protective—wait, I wouldn’t do that,” she said as Achan reached for the dog. But instead of growling and snapping, Carebear hunkered down to the ground, not exactly cowering, but definitely submitting. He sniffed respectfully at Achan’s fingers and allowed the witch to scratch him behind the ears.
The dog’s attitude unsettled Soleil. Cerberus didn’t show anyone this kind of reverence, not even her. She swallowed and readjusted the leash, because her palms had begun to sweat.
“Thank you for meeting me,” she said, thankful that her voice sounded reasonably steady. “I know I wasn’t very polite to you last time, and I want to apologize for that.”
“No need,” he said, still scuffling Carebear’s ears. “I deserved it for acting like a know-it-all asshole. You brought out a side of me that I haven’t really—well—let’s just say I was pissed. More so than I should have been.”
“Pissed enough to wreck the town square?”
He actually blushed. “I had a lot of excess magic on my hands. Seemed like the thing to do at the time.”
“Kind of obvious, though. One could argue that you broke the Convocation’s rules about magical secrecy.”
His eyes flashed briefly. “One could argue that I don’t care.”
Soleil’s lips tightened.
“But you care.” He nodded, visibly restraining himself. “And I apologize for not taking your mission here seriously. I want to know more about it, and about you.”
“Sure.” Relief bathed her nerves. “What do you want to know?”
“First of all, what’s this handsome boy’s name?”
“That’s Cerberus. I call him Carebear.”
Achan looked up, grinning. “Of course you do.” But the humor vanished from his face the longer he studied hers. “You’ve been using magic,” he said. “A lot of it. You’re nearly empty again.”
Soleil cut her eyes away from his. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not. You don’t take care of yourself. This is why—” He bit off the words and rose from his crouch, his hands twitching restlessly at his sides.
“Let’s walk,” she said. “Carebear’s patience only lasts so long. You can fuss at me on the way.”
She led him to Caterpillar Curve, the most difficult of the paths through the park. Sun shattered through the translucent green canopy overhead, dappling the dirt path in gold. Frenzied with delight, Carebear sniffed everything—knobby roots, twisting vines, lumps of scat, moss-coated earth. Sometimes he would bound ahead with a jerk that nearly dislocated Soleil’s shoulder. She could feel Achan’s gaze burning into her spine, right down to her soul, it seemed; but he didn’t speak until they had gone some distance on the trail and were climbing the root-laced hillside.
“So why have you wasted all the magic I put into you?” he said at last.
“I wouldn’t say wasted,” Soleil retorted. And then, softening her tone, “I’m having trouble with my contacts. Some of them are acting weird, sort of dull and robotic, not like themselves at all. And others had prejudices that I needed to eliminate.” She paused while Carebear snuffled deeply in the bushes.
Achan halted beside her. He looked like a satisfied Cheshire cat who was trying not to smile too widely.
“It’s as I suspected,” he said. “You’re not really making them happy. At best you’re bringing them a moderate contentment. They’ll never truly taste happiness unless they choose to. And honestly, Sol, most humans like their happiness mixed with a little chaos. For flavor.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “That doesn’t sound accurate.”
“It is. You need to let them have more excitement, more drama. People thrive on a taste of terror. Introduce a little madness, and they will find their spirits again.”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head doubtfully. “People never used to act this way after I mind-flexed them.”
“You mean when you were a child? A teen? I’m guessing you didn’t use your powers much back then—just a little here and there—minor tweaks for your peers, and maybe your teachers, right?”
She squirmed, disturbed by his insight. “That’s right.”
