Chapter 44

"Freaky," Savannah said.

I had to agree. Freaky was really the best word for it. I think the three of us were in a room. I think. It was so huge that it made even the overcompensating Nast house seem tiny. The white marble walls extended as far as I could see and I could barely make out where the black marble floor met the walls. There were giant pillars holding up the walls—they weren't modern monstrosities, but neither were they the classical Doric, Ionic or Corinthian columns I associated with the Greeks. I didn't know enough about classical architecture to hazard a guess on what it actually was, but they were huge, no doubt about that.

"This better not be me dead," Bryce snapped.

"Holy shit," Savannah muttered, ignoring him entirely. She grabbed my arm and pointed to one of the thousands—millions—of pictures on the wall. They were gorgeous, alternating mosaics or paintings and portraying all the little moments of life that everyone rarely appreciated. I gasped as I looked more closely.

"That's Abyssinian. And that one's Roman. And that—"

"That one fucking moved."

I looked where she was pointing and gasped. It was difficult to see, but one of the men was ever so slowly moving his sword. "Wicked."

The floor began to rotate and I grabbed onto Bryce as Savannah grabbed onto me as we were turned around. The room really did go on forever. But finally we stopped, facing a tangled web of...yarn?

"Thread of life as an over-done metaphor much," Savannah said, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, piss off the unknown, probably powerful deities," I shot back.

Bryce snorted: "What are they going to do? Embroider us to death?"

I should have let both siblings die.

Raised on a platform in front of the thread was a spinning wheel. A woman—the most average looking woman I had ever seen, which sounds unfair but it was really the only way to describe her—sat behind the spinning wheel. Before I could really digest what I was seeing, she stood, and somehow between the sitting and the standing she changed. I wouldn't have been able to describe it to anyone, other than she aged forty, fifty years before I blinked. The graying, dark hair became coarse and white, and the mature face became weathered and wizened.

"Eve's daughter. We should have known. Tell me, girl, did your mother put you up to this?"

Savannah snorted. "Naw. But I'm sure Daddy will be proud. He might even buy me a pony."

The old crone was suddenly a little girl, a pretty little girl with golden brown hair and blue eyes and a vibrant violent dress. She was giggling. "Eve and Kristof have arrived outside. They seem anxious to get in."

I grabbed Bryce's hand then because he looked like he needed it; that's what my face had looked like when I asked him to do the spell, I was sure. People shouldn't be allowed to want things that badly.

The crone appeared. "We will deal with them later. We have important business to attend to. Do you three realize what you have done?"

Savannah shrugged. "I was just the dying bystander."

"And it was Gillian's idea," Bryce helpfully said.

"You both suck," I announced. But I tried to remain calm as I explained, "Bryce performed a resurrection spell on Savannah. And then I performed the same spell on him. So we shouldn't really be here."

"Unless we're all dead," Bryce suggested.

"Then why would we be here? If we were dead there would be more flames."

"Or at least pitchforks," Savannah said.

"Please. You two aren't going to hell. I might not even be going there—the people we kill bring it on themselves."

"If you're finished, Kristof's son, could we continue?" the crone snapped.

"Go right ahead."

A pale man approached the dais, carry a knotted group of threads. He knelt down and placed it in front of the crone, who was now the middle-aged woman. I was going to get so confused. Remembering the Greek names for the Fates—because really? Totally Greek—I silently named the little one Clotho, then Lachesis and finally Atropos. The crone was only one whose Roman name I could remember. Morta. Death. I think she was the one we were going to have to deal with.

Indeed, Atropos picked up her shears and ran them over top of the tangled threads. "We've never seen such a tangled mess. You have bound yourselves together in a way we've never seen—but there is not enough life force between you for all three of you to survive."

"What are they saying?" I demanded of the siblings. They didn't dare answer.

Lachesis spoke kindly, but her voice was firm. "While you were in your world, we couldn't find where one of you ended and the others began. In here, it is still difficult, but not impossible. We will work on it. Yet, there there is not enough life force for three of you. So we are offering you the choice, since you seem to have demanded it, as we work to untangle you. One of you must remain behind. Would you like to choose who?"

"Better us than you," Bryce agreed, before I could open my mouth again.

"We're talking it over first," Savannah insisted and the Fates quickly agreed. Atropos even said we could have all the time we liked.

None of us found that reassuring.

By unspoken agreement we gave ourselves a moment. The siblings swore and I stood there and quietly freaked out. And then we all pulled ourselves together and set about figuring this out.

"I'm not dying for anyone," Bryce started us off. "I performed the spell, but with the express intention of not dying."

"There's two of us and one of you," Savannah said. There was no real heat in her voice, however, I couldn't help but notice. "And I'm sure fewer people will die if the two of us go back instead of you."

"Let's not bring morality into this."

"Because you know you'd lose that way. Evil Cabal son and all that."

"Morally, you couldn't leave me behind. You're the one that died, sister dear. Gillian's the one that wanted to save you. I just got sucked into the insanity that is the two of you."

"You're selflessness is inspiring, brother dearest." She glanced over at me and I realized she had come to the same conclusion as I had. It had to be us. Because it was only fair and because...

"Even if he did volunteer—" "Which I won't" "—We can't go back to Thomas without his grandson and expect to live through the encounter."

"I know," she muttered. "Well, I guess we already know how Bryce is going to vote between us. Not that I'm bitter, or anything."

"Please. I was buying you time. The crazy bitch was obviously going to do the opposite of whatever I said. She was trying to punish me."

"So you wanted her to kill me?"

"Savannah was the one trying to cast. We had to keep Mariah's eyes off her. It was just the smart thing to do in the situation."

"I see," Savannah said, arching an eyebrow. "Well, since we can't pick you, which one of us do you think should stay behind?"

For maybe the first time since I had met him, Bryce looked decidedly uncomfortable as he looked at the two of us, with our arms crossed and our expectant faces. Not that his opinion would sway us (unless it's what we wanted to hear), but it was hard not to push when he was practically squirming.

"This really isn't any of my business," he muttered.

"Sure it is. You performed the spell with us."

I took pity on him; we were good witches, not manipulative necromancers. "Could you just give us a second to figure this out?"

"I'm going to go stare at the creepy art."

That left Savannah and I staring at each other. Just the two of us. And one of us had to die.

Bryce had been wrong. I wasn't trying to get myself killed. Because when it came down to it...I really didn't want to do what I knew I had to do. I was a mediocre witch at best. The most I was ever going to do with my life was rediscover ancient and dangerous magic that ended up killing me, if I didn't do something stupider first. Savannah was strong and powerful and could actually do something spectacular with her life. And I loved her; I would do anything for her.

I just really wished it didn't have to be this.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I threw my arms around her. "You really do have no choice but to jump Adam's bones when you get out of here. Or finally just move on. Just...do something, with your life."

So I said the words, even if I couldn't make myself want to stay behind. The afterlife didn't seem all that bad, but it wasn't life. I may have been bad at life, but I didn't want to give up just yet.

"Are you kidding me?" Savannah said pulling away. "Clearly, you're the one who's going back. As much as I appreciate the gesture, I'm the one who got shot. Not you. I'm dead. Not you. Magic shouldn't be allowed to change that."

"But that's stupid. I'm useless and you're...you're you. Besides, I won't go back and tell everyone else the spell didn't work because I was too much of a coward to go through with it. I won't."

I think we were both full on crying at this point, though we both would have denied it. "You're such an idiot. I won't let you stay. It was worth a try, but in the end, I'm the one who got herself shot. I died. Not you."

"It was an accident. You shouldn't have to pay for that."

"And you should? I'm sorry I got shot...I should have gotten out of the way. Bryce could have taken her. But you know me..."

"Always in a fight," I said, vision blurry. "Savannah you can't die. I...I was supposed to save you."

"You did. Well, you got Bryce to, but we both know he wouldn't have done it if you hadn't told him to so it's the same thing. I'm not going to forget that." Her arms were around my neck, holding me close. "Let me return the favor."

"Why? Why do you want to leave me?"

"Don't make me slap you. I don't want to go—I am being dragged from the land of the living, kicking and screaming and mocking powerful deities. But someone has to die and it's supposed to be me. I won't let it be you."

I hugged her, hugged her until my arms started to ache. Someone was shaking but it didn't matter who it was. At least for that moment we were together.

"Why do you always have to do the stupid, courageous thing?"

"Because I'm awesome." Savannah pulled away and glared, brushing her eyes, pretending she wasn't crying. "Don't you dare forget that, Gillian. Don't forget me. When you're living your fabulous life, remember me occasionally."

"Like I could ever forget. You're my best friend. How can I let you do this?"

"It's my choice, so shut up about it."

"Actually, I think it's my choice. I performed the spell last, after all."

Savannah shrugged. "Whatever. We're doing it my way. It's the way we roll, after all."

"Bitch."

"Barbie."

We smiled at one another and then she hugged me again. She mumbled into my ear: "It was a good try. I'm not going to forget this."

Then she pulled away and called to her brother, "Make sure she gets back okay."

He didn't answer her; he spoke to me. "Grandpa won't kill you."

"What?"

"He'd understand. He'd do the same thing—he hates her, but he'd do the same thing. I'm sure of it, willing to bet your life on it sure of it. You'd have to explain everything to him and then tell him...tell him he would have done the same thing. Maybe not everything; tell him you lost the baby casting, keep Alba out of it. But the rest...yeah. Tell him."

"Is he...he's volunteering?" Savannah asked me, unsure if she was reading the situation correctly.

"It makes the most sense, you said," Bryce said, watching the Fates over our heads. "Sean can...just pick Austin. Or one of the kids. Just name them heir instead of waiting for me to get my act together."

"Like the Romans," I muttered. "Adopt the most suitable heir."

"Yeah, like that."

"Are you doing this for her? Or for me?" Savannah asked. "Or because you find the two of us together so damn heart-warming?"

He was doing it for himself. The countdown on Leech had begun, and the family would just send him back to exile in New York regardless of how badly he wanted to stay. When he went back he'd marry some debutant whose name he would refuse to learn and have children who looked to Sean instead of him. Thomas would die soon enough; the company meant nothing to Bryce. It made the most sense—at least Kristof was here. What did he have, back there?

"I thought I was the suicidal one." I never would have believed he was projecting.

"It's not—it just makes the most sense. I'm older than the two of you; I've done far more to make the world a crappier place for everyone else."

"You're going to use logic to absolve yourself of…just giving up?"

"What's the point—? You'd rather Savannah stay behind?"

"That's not fair, Bryce. If—"

From the platform, I could hear Artopos called out: "You aren't supposed to be in here!"

We spun around to see gorgeous, dark haired woman, all long limbs and kick ass attitude entering the room. She was trailed by an older man, thickening middle and thinning hair and eyes that I would recognize anywhere.

"Mom!" Savannah pulled away from me and rushed towards her mother. Bryce didn't bother wasting time shouting, just took off like a shot, crossing the room in an instant. Eve was grinning manically as she hugged her daughter, but I didn't manage even a glimpse of Kristof's face before his son blocked my view. I turned to face the disapproving Fates in order to give them their privacy.

"They'll just be a second," I promised the Fates. Artopos sighed, Clotho stomped her foot and even Lachesis seemed a little put out. Considering they were all-powerful deities, you would think they would have learned by now not to underestimate how annoying and inconsiderate Savannah and Bryce could be.

Unable to help myself, I glanced over my shoulder to find Savannah babbling full speed ahead, trying to catch her mother up on almost ten years of her life in between random bouts of laughter and tears, joy she couldn't quite handle. Meanwhile, I don't think Bryce had moved his head from his father's shoulder and he certainly wasn't planning to move out of his father's embrace as he stood there, back shaking, tears mostly muffled. He had once told me he didn't regret his father dying—I guess even Bryce was allowed a few white lies here and there.

Turning back to the Fates, I asked: "Hey, do you think there's any way you could get one of my relatives in here? I'm feeling a bit left out at the moment."

As if she had heard me, Savannah called out across the antechamber, "Hey, Gillian. Get over here. I want you to meet my mother."

I came because she called, as usual. Eve was too busy enjoying being able to touch her daughter to bother much with me, though she did give me a smile. She even shook my hand, called me short and asked me how the hell we had all gotten here.

"It's a long story, Mom," Savannah interrupted. "How did you get in here?"

With a wink and a smirk, Eve gestured towards her empty palm. And suddenly the biggest, scariest sword I had ever seen was in her hand.

"Cool, huh?"

"Totally. Told you," Savannah said to me.

"Yeah, yeah. Your mom's the best. I know."

"Hello, princess," a voice interrupted. Savannah managed to tear herself away from Eve for three whole seconds in order to give her father a hug. "Hey, Kris. Did you miss me?"

"Of course," he replied, but my attention went to his son, whose eyes were still red but was managing half a smile watching his father and his sister together for the first time. Then his eyes were on me and in them I could see a question.

Now that his father was in the room, he couldn't exactly volunteer again—performing was what he did. Nor could he let Savannah stay behind, even if he didn't want to leave me, either. So he was asking me what they wanted. What was wrong with him? They were the Fates. You couldn't buy them off, even if you were a Nast.

Or maybe you could. If there was one thing I had learned hanging around the Cabals all my life, it was that there was always a deal to be made. I just had to find it. So what did they want?

I had no clue.

"Eve," Kristof said in a strangely formal voice that drew my attention from the problem at hand. "I would like you to meet my youngest son. Bryce, this is Eve Levine, the love of my life."

A little romantic for a sorcerer, wasn't he? I guess he had waited long enough to be able to say that to someone he was related to.

"It's nice to meet you," Eve said, sticking out her hand. Bryce didn't want to take it, even now, too conditioned to believe Thomas would know everything. But having his father there seemed to override the other conditioning he had endured, because Bryce took her hand. And if his "likewise" was a little forced, it wasn't too obvious, I don't think.

They talked a bit while I glanced back at the Fates. What could we possibly have that they could want from us? It was hard remembering the mythology about them—and who knew if that was an accurate understanding of their motivations? There was no way I could figure something out. They hated the mess we had made, so that told me they were big on order. But what could I do with that?

"And then Gillian performed the spell on Bryce and we ended up here," Savannah concluded her tale. Both parents turned their eyes on me and it was fairly obvious they had the same thought—let the other witch stay behind. Because as much as they liked seeing their children again, they would much rather have them alive. It was that simple.

But Savannah noticed it to, because she positioned herself between her parents and me and ordered in a cold voice that was all Cabal princess, "You should thank Gillian for trying to save me."

Eve just laughed, but Kristof looked at me again and offered, "Thank you."

I quickly averted my eyes and tried not to blush. It didn't work. I think I went bright red. Not that I was embarrassed...I was totally embarrassed. It was bad enough all of Bryce's living relations thought I was trash—I didn't want the dead ones to disapprove of me either.

"By the way," Eve said to me, "I hear congratulations are in order."

But it seemed as if it was already too late. Stupid ghosts and their ability to spy on the living.

I drew myself up as much as I could and smiled as prettily as I was able. "Thank you, ma'am. That's awfully nice of you. What for?"

"I guess they missed the part where the two of you were just faking the whole kid thing," Savannah said, most unhelpfully.

Bryce seemed to agree with me, because he couldn't help himself from saying, "No wonder Grandpa hates her."

Kristof coughed politely and Bryce sighed. "I didn't mean to be insulting, she-devil."

"It's fine, evil half-brother. I probably should have kept my mouth shut until after you had broken the sad news to Dad that he wasn't going to get to be a grandfather, after all."

"Damn, Kris. You're getting old."

Kristof did not seem as amused by the love of his life right that second as he had before. He glared until she stopped laughing, though the look that made my blood freeze seemed to have no effect on Eve. When she was finished, she even kept talking.

"We figured that one out. I just wanted to congratulate you on also giving Thomas heartburn. It's always so much fun to watch him squirm like that."

Thomas Nast hated far too many things for me to feel particularly honored. Was there anything on the planet he could stand? Bryce thought his grandfather loved him, but how much of that was just a fatherless son who wanted some sort of paternal validation? He had been willing to be our collective lives on that he knew his grandfather, so maybe I should give him more credit. Between the two of us, it made more sense that Bryce would understand his grandfather than I would.

His grandfather who had taught him the dead stay dead, no matter what you might want.

And just like that it came to me, a plan so perfect and stupid all at once that I couldn't help blurt out: "I know what to do."

All four of them turned to me, but their scrutiny didn't bother me. I just turned to Savannah and apologized. "But you're going to have to be the one stays behind, since I'd have access to better resources if you're brother was alive. But don't get too comfortable, either. Catch up with your mom fast because you aren't staying here."

"How—?"

But I had already turned to Bryce. "How fast can Grant get to Macon?"

"As fast as possible, where ever it is."

"Georgia. My dad's old house. I left my grimoires there after he died, but they were under the floorboards. I doubt anyone found them. In my old room, near the window. He'll need to move quickly."

"He's Grant. He'll get them. What's—?"

"The spell. The one we did when we were sixteen."

Savannah burst in. "The one we had no fucking clue what it would do."

"But that bound us together tightly enough that we could bring Zachery Eisenberg back from the dead. You'll stay here, but not for long. I'm going to save you. Properly. We'll need witches, probably, I don't want to worry about modifying the spell for a sorcerer—"

"I can make the Enrights help," Bryce suggested.

"Plus me and Paige, if she'll agree, or whatever dark witch you can buy off the fastest. If two and a half people could bring back Zachery, then binding four people together should mean it'll be perfectly safe when we bring back Savannah."

For a second, I thought Bryce was going to kiss me in front of his father. That wouldn't have been outrageous enough. He decided instead to announce to the room at large: "You're going to give the Nast Cabal the key to immortality."

"Yes."

Anything, so long as it saved her.

"Enough!" Right on cue, the Fates interrupted. I knew they couldn't ignore us while we were standing right in front of them. Artopos was seething. "You don't really think you can threaten us, do you, girl?"

"They were not threatening you," Kristof stepped in. "As far as I can tell, they were simply discussing their plans for the future. Unless you have a vested interest in keeping my daughter with you, you shouldn't be concerned."

Clotho appeared, shivering, and it was an effective sight, considering how young she looked. "Even Thomas will not be able to resist the temptation to bring back what was lost."

"Then it seems you should make sure they have no reason to ask for his help."

"Make a deal," Eve snarled. "We all know how much you like your deals."

The look on her face terrified me. So did the look on Kristof's. No wonder Savannah thought she was the most badass thing around. With parents like these, people shouldn't be stupid enough to cross her.

"Time works differently here," Kristof explained to me. "You can argue with them for centuries and only moments will have passed."

Savannah linked her arm through mine. It killed her a little to look away from her mom, but she did, staring down whoever stood in her path. "So how much is it worth to you to make sure the second most powerful Cabal in North America doesn't start bringing everyone back from the dead?"

"Largest," Kristof and Bryce corrected reflexively.

Lachesis sighed, a long suffering sigh that, considering she was probably millions of years old, was actually very effective. "Why is it that every time you appear in this room, Eve, it seems we are being asked to alter rules that have been good enough for every other person in existence?"

"It's a special talent," Eve agreed cheerfully. "One that could be stopped if..."

Atropos sighed. "Would even your daughter's life be enough to stop you from shirking your duties? I doubt it."

"For my daughter," Eve promised softly.

Was I the only one who didn't have a mother who was willing to do crazy stuff to save me?

Clotho shivered again, Lachesis shook her head and Atropos scowled and then they were moving so quickly I couldn't keep up with their changes. They were just a blur of colour and half-baked conversation. I leaned over and whispered to Savannah, "Nice job threatening the Fates."

"Hey, you started it."

They were a long time coming back with a verdict. But finally Lachesis appeared in front of us.

"Any grimoires containing either the spell you used today or the spell that linked the two of you together must be destroyed if we are even to begin to reconsider sending all three of you back."

"Can't we just cut out the spells?" I didn't want to damage all of Yi's books. There were some great healing spells in there.

"They'll destroy all the grimoires," Bryce promised. "Anything else?"

Atropos resurfaced. "It may not even be possible. There isn't enough life force to send you all back."

"You don't have to send us back perfectly, you know," Savannah suggested. "Just close the hole in my chest a little bit, weaken them a whole lot and hope Leech calls the doctors fast enough."

"You could all die."

"We are in the middle of a hospital," Bryce said. "If we're going all going to be half-dead, then there's no place better to be."

"If you're a Nast," I pointed out under my breath.

"It is a risk," Atropos said. "It may work but there are no guarantees."

"We'll take our chances," Savannah spoke for all three of us. "So we get rid of the grimoires, keep the secret of immortality to ourselves, and everyone lives?"

"Everyone lives," Clotho promised. Atropos was quick to add, "For now."

I glanced at Savannah, who grinned at me. "Works for me."

"Me too," I said.

The Fates were frowning, but nodded their agreement. Excellent. It was Lachesis who explained, "We should wipe your memory, but we could hardly expect you to honor you side of the bargain if we did that. So we ask you to be discreet about what you have seen here."

We promised. "Go back and leave us in peace. And Eve? You should not have come."

Eve just rolled her eyes and began saying goodbye to her daughter. As much as they wanted to stay around talking together, everyone seemed to realize the longer we stayed, the more time the Fates had to change their mind. So Savannah and Eve were talking faster than I had ever seen anyone talk and Bryce was listening intently to everything his father had to say. If he could have, I think he would have been taking notes.

There was a look of disbelief on his face, and regret, and longing. It was too little, too late, I thought. Even Kristof couldn't teach his son to be happy, anymore.

Savannah came over to say goodbye to her father and I tried not to be too envious of the rather unconventional little family. But I couldn't help it. Oh well. Outside of this room, I had Savannah all to myself. And I was never not going to have to share Bryce.

And then my musings were interrupted as I found myself face to face with Kristof Nast. He regarded me coldly for a moment and I fought the urge to fidget, or to look away. Kristof couldn't be worse than Thomas, so why should I be scared? But I was a little more relieved than I let on when he finally held out his hand.

"It was nice to meet you, Gillian."

I took it, still trying not to blush. But it didn't really matter how embarrassed I was because I needed to know: "You told him it was okay if he quit, right? Because he'll never—"

"I told him."

Then I remembered: "But he won't listen."

"He might."

Kristof had been dead too many years.

"You ready, Gillian?" Savannah asked, coming to grab me so we could be off.

"When you are."

She hugged Kristof one more time; Eve caught my eye and winked and I found myself smiling despite myself; Bryce was coming around to my other side. The three of us lined up.

"Damn, she's short," Bryce said over my head to his sister.

"Munchkin in the middle."

"Neither of you is funny," I complained. But they laughed, turned around to say goodbye to their parents one last time, and then grabbed my arms and pulled me through the portal with them.