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The whispers filter into the idea and then it crumbles as I see the falsity of it all. What right do I have to make the world in my image?
For the first time I see my true role. What Destroyer really means. Magic comes in cycles, surging stronger in some times, less in others. I am not meant to destroy the world itself; I’m to choose, more magic, or less for the next cycle. Understanding comes from knowing, without remembering, that I’ve done this before. Supposedly many times.
I come, I choose, and I then live my life in the world I chose. I don’t create it, I guide it. Yes, I destroy the old world, but you can’t have creation without destruction. You must destroy a tree to make a chair. That is the fabric of the universe. That is how it works.
Magic continues to rise, crackling and filling the air, sparking between my fingers. It’s looking for ground, exactly like electricity.
It doesn’t matter if I have done this before, I reject it. All of it. This isn’t a role I’m going to passively accept. I won’t be the Destroyer. If I am to have power then I will use my power to save. A tingling sensation rushes over, making me feel lighter.
“Let her do it,” Siobhan says. “Let’s see what happens if the Destroyer fully embraces her title.”
“Shut up, Siobhan,” Dugald says. “Quinn, please, calm down.”
Staring at him I finally see it. I see how I could love him, in another life. Another time. He is a good man, really, if misguided and bound by his loyalty to his Queen. I don’t understand his decisions or the rules the Fae are ruled by, but he is a good man, despite his mistakes.
Moira inches her way closer, cautious, yet brave. She knows she might be hurt, but that doesn’t stop her from coming forward. And in that I feel her friendship. The truth of the fact that she really does care. Which is more than I probably deserve.
“I am calm,” I say, unclenching my fists and pushing the surging magic away. The tension in the three of them lessens as it lowers, and they see me relaxing. “I know what I must do, but if I have to meet with the Queen, when do we do it?”
“Now,” Dugald says. “The darkness grows stronger as it destroys. It feeds on the chaos, the ending of things. There is no time to waste.”
“Right,” I say, thinking. “I need to see Chief Johnne and the British commander. I can’t leave these people unprepared and defenseless.”
“Quinn, there’s no ti—”
“No.” I cut Dugald off. “I get it, no time. I’m not going to argue with you about it, but this is what I’m doing. I have a responsibility to these men too and I’m going to make sure they have at least a glimmer of hope.”
Dugald shuts his mouth, glances at Moira who shrugs, then nods agreement. Siobhan watches the three of us with a subtle, pouty grin that every fiber of my being wants to slap off her face, but in this instance at least I agree with Dugald. There is not time to deal with the arrogant vampire.
“Fine,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head in disagreement with his words.
“Good.” I turn and put my hand on the door and then pause. The enormity of this moment arrives subtly. A tension building in my shoulders, knotting the muscles, bringing on a headache. “We can’t fail.”
“You won’t,” Moira says. “We won’t. I believe in you.”
I bite my lip, take a deep breath, then nod. No more words left unsaid, I open the door and go to find Chief Johnne.
ChapterEight
“You both understand?”I ask.
I watch the two men’s faces carefully, looking for any hint of disagreement or confusion. Chief Johnne nods and seems to get it. Brit John, as I think of him, purses his thin lips, runs a hand over his head smoothing a stray hair, and stares into the distance. I don’t know if he sees the men working on the walls, or if he’s looking at something else entirely.
“This was a simple mission,” he says at last. He speaks softly, barely a whisper. Tears glisten in his eyes. “I do not wish to die in this heathen land.”
Chief Johnne and I exchange a look as anger clouds Johnne’s face. His lips part and he is about to say something, but I shake my head and he closes his mouth. Brit John sighs heavily then focuses his attention on Johnne.
“No one wants this,” I say, hoping to avoid this getting ugly. The last thing in the world I have time for is these two to argue.
“Chief Johnne,” Brit John says, ignoring me. My chest tightens in anticipation. Whatever he says next is going to decide how this plays out. I must go, but I can’t leave these men fighting each other when I know an army of darkness is coming. “I see you are a good man, if uncivilized.” Johnne bristles, but keeps his mouth shut. “It seems that God has put before us the challenge to defeat the devil incarnate, and while I never would have dreamed of choosing a Scotsman to fight at my side, in this time and in this moment, I can think of no one I would rather have by me.”
I let go of the breath I was holding. Johnne frowns, his brow furrowed. I watch his thoughts play out across his face as he parses the words, looking for their true meaning. When he gets it, he smiles and laughs.
“Well, I’ll be buggered if I ever thought I’d fight alongside a fool of a Brit, but here we are,” Johnne says.
“Gentlemen,” I say. “I will return as fast as I can.”
“I do nae understand where you are going, lass,” Johnne says.
