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“He’s forgotten me.” I began crying, and Emmet pulled me into his strong embrace. I let him. I let myself take comfort from him.
“He didn’t forget you.” Emmet stroked my hair. “Peter could never have forgotten you. His feelings, his memory, his history—everything was unwound. Peter not only lost you and Colin. He lost himself.” Emmet placed a gentle kiss on the top of my head. “Don’t blame him. Don’t resent him. I know he would never have left you if he had even the slightest choice in the matter.”
I drew in a breath, then sighed it out. I let his words soothe me, and I relaxed in his arms. I knew I could let myself go limp, but still I wouldn’t fall, because Emmet held me. “Peter would kill you if he saw you holding me like this.”
Emmet reached down and turned my face up to meet his. “No. Peter loved you. He truly loved you. I’m sure of that. Given the circumstances are what they are, your hotheaded fairy man would thank me.”
“I would only be using you, Emmet.” I tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let me.
“Then use me.”
“I care for you, I do . . .”
“You don’t have to love me. I’m not asking you to feel one way or another for me. I am only asking you to lean on me. Let me help you stand until you find the strength to stand on your own again.”
“What about when I do?” I searched his face for any sign of concern. I saw none. His black curls had grown back, and were threatening to fall over his eyes. “What if I don’t need you then?”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Mercy,” he said and pulled me down the sidewalk. “I’m a fabulous catch. You’ll come to your senses soon enough.”
I tugged on his arm, trying to slow our pace, but he didn’t let me. “I don’t want to hurt you, Emmet. I’m going through hell right now. I’ve lost so much.” I realized he didn’t even know yet about Maisie.
“I know,” he said, and at first I thought his comment was a validation. “About Maisie that is.” In spite of my appreciation for him, I reached up and slapped his shoulder. “Again, not my fault. I told you that you were broadcasting.”
I realized maybe he was right, so I let it go. “Your strength and your support are so tempting, but you deserve a woman who can truly love you.”
“Don’t worry about what I ‘deserve.’ I am willing to gamble that someday you might just return my feelings.”
“Or I might just end up putting you through hell.”
“I’ve already gone to hell and back for you. I’m not afraid of a second trip. Ugh . . .” He brushed his chest where my head had been. “Enough of these tears. You’ve gotten me all wet.” He winked at me and smiled, and even though it felt somehow adulterous, my heart responded, if only a little.
Emmet had once tried to convince me the line had created him for me. Could this be so? Had the line somehow known? Somehow anticipated my losing Peter and provided me with a soft place to land? Peter was gone. Forever. And all the tears in the world would not bring him back to us. The best I could hope for was to raise his son into a man he would have been proud of. The worry that Colin might never see the world tried to creep back up on me, but I refused it. I would put no energy into that fear, and every shred of my magic into making sure he would. I leaned my head into Emmet’s shoulder. “I’ll pay for the dry cleaning.” For an instant I allowed myself to imagine the life Emmet wanted us to share, and the knot that had formed in my core loosened. Maybe he was right.
I felt a tingle race down my spine, but I realized instantly that it had nothing to do with Emmet. A witch, a powerful one, was nearing. The tingle increased in intensity until I felt it buzzing through me from head to toe. Emmet spun me into a protective embrace, leaving me incapable of seeing anything past his shoulders. I heard the sound of a car pulling up next to us, and struggled to loosen Emmet’s grasp. It was like trying to pry open a vise. “Emmet,” I said, and his name worked like a charm; his arms remained wrapped around me, but loosened their hold enough that I could turn.
A limousine, the shade of a storm cloud about to burst, came to a stop beside us. I hated limos. Nothing good ever came from riding in limos. The dark rear window hummed as it opened. As the onyx glass slid down, the sight of incredibly pale skin and impossibly fair hair came into view. Horrible blank eyes reigned over an expressionless face.
“Fridtjof Lund,” I whispered.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Instantly recognizable, but still somehow different, less androgynous. That was it. His features had taken on a more masculine edge. A question shot its way up through my subconscious. “You are an anchor. How can you be here?” How could he be so far away from the point on earth where he was duty-bound to remain in order to anchor the line?
“Bilocation. I have been blessed with the ability to be in two places at once. My other half—or you might even call her my ‘better half’—remains home.”
His other half. Fridtjof was not the androgyne I had believed him to be. He, they, were some kind of symbiotic creature, male and female bound together, but as my eyes now testified, capable of division when necessary. I recovered quickly from the shock of seeing him here and in the flesh. He was going to have to try a lot harder than this to throw me after the turns my life had taken. I found myself more irritated than alarmed by his presence. Seriously, he could have at least called. “Okay, that takes care of the how.” I patted Emmet’s forearm until he clued in and let me go free. “Now let’s move on to the why.”
“I would assume that much is obvious. I’m here to partake of your world famous Liar’s Tour.” The blankness on his face gave way to a self-satisfied smile.
“Here’s the condensed version: It’s been lovely to see you.”
Emmet chuckled behind me.
“Now, if it isn’t clear to you that I am in no mood for your smartass responses, please let me assure you I am not.” I felt a bead of sweat form on my forehead, and I wiped it away with my hand. “So tell me what you want, or keep on driving.”
“Of course,” he said, and the smoked glass of the window began to rise. For a moment, I honestly thought maybe he really would lift tail and run, but in the next moment the driver’s door opened and a normal enough guy in a cheap dark suit hopped out. He reached for the handle of Fridtjof’s door and swung it open, then stepped back. Fridtjof leaned out of the opening. “Please do get in.”
I didn’t take the shortest of moments to consider the invitation. My head was shaking before I could even register I had answered. “Uh-uh. No way.” My voice finally caught up with the rest of me.
