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“I don’tdesperatelyneed anything,” I snap, shaking my head. “And what does that have to do with you answering my questions?”
“Go to the Walnut Street alley, between Ninth and Twelfth.”
“No.” Dugald arches one perfect eyebrow sharply. “I don’t have time for this. I need to get back, I need to make sure the MacGregors are okay, then I have to get back here and live my life.”
I take a perverse pride in not saying Duncan’s name. Dugald wants to keep secrets? I can too. Not that he doesn’t know, but whatever. It’s a small victory.
“Is that your choice, Destroyer?”
“Don’t call me that. I’m not going to destroy anything. Are the MacGregors okay?”
“Some.”
“Who? You know, tell me. Or are you playing me?”
“You need to go,” he says, turning away. “He’ll be waiting for you.”
“Who? How am I supposed to make time for all this? Why won’t you tell me who lived?”
“Be there, Destroyer,” he says. “It’s time for you to embrace your destiny.”
“I don’t want it,” I say. I grab his arm to pull him around to face me, but I’m stopped by the muscle under his loose shirt. His bicep is bulging, he’s more built than what he looks. He turns, but it’s sure not because I make him. “Answer my questions.”
“I cannot,” he says.
“You can.”
“No, I can’t. You haven’t decided yet. Those questions won’t be answered until the final decisions are made.”
“What does that even mean? Why can’t I find my way back there? I made it there the first time. Why can’t I go back?”
He pulls his arm free of my grip and walks away.
“I don’t have to do what you say. I can choose not to.”
“That is a choice,” he says without looking back, then he blurs and is gone.
“Damn it, don’t do that,” I growl.
I rub my face, pushing away the heavy weight of exhaustion that creeps in every time I stop moving. I could really use a good night’s sleep. Or a good three or four days. Days and hours I don’t have to waste.
I check my phone for the time. I’ve missed my first class, but I can make the second if I hurry. My head is spinning as I walk towards the campus.
Training. Right. Training for what? I don’t want to train; I want to get back.
Maybe if I meet this mysterious trainer I can get him to show me how to travel through the mists? I chew my lower lip as I walk. Returning to the sidewalks that are still abustle with people busily going about their lives. Everyone is on their phone. Even people in groups have their phones in hand. The more the digital world “brings us closer” the more it is separating us.
Dugald and the Fae label me Destroyer. I’m supposed to choose to save magic, for them. I don’t think it’s really my choice. Why would I get to choose? But if choosing leads me back…
My spirits lift at the thought. I can’t sleep because of the unknowns. Does Duncan survive? When I was ripped away, we were running to try and stop the MacGregors’ attack. I know, from history, that we didn’t stop that. What I don’t know is if he survived the battle. Or the purge that followed.
I don’t know if any of them survived. That’s what keeps me awake at night. The nightmares of whatmighthave happened to them. To him. They all lived and died, one way or another, hundreds of years ago. I know that, but if I could save them…
The trainer is the way forward, which is the way back.
I have responsibility here, duties, people who need me. People who count on me, but I do there too. The MacGregors need me if they’re going to survive the purging of their Clan. I’m being torn in two but if the trainer can send me back, then I must go to him.
Okay. Decision time. Trainer or no trainer?
