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“I saw him. He’s in trouble.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe isn’t an answer. You don’t know, do you?”
My heart thumps five times as we stare. He smacks his lips and looks away.
“Nothing is clear,” he says.
“And what does that mean? Nothing is clear. That sounds like some kind of damn fortune cookie bullshit. Is he being tortured? Is what I saw real? Is it happening?”
Energy thrums in my core. When I was a kid, Dad bought me one of those plasma lightning lamps. It feels like that. Bolts of electrical energy coalescing and then shooting out. It’s strong, stronger than it’s ever been.
“You must focus, Quinn. Now is not the time to be distracted. Your training is—”
“Training is what? What is the point of all of this?”
In all my years the one thing I’ve learned is that love is worth it. Take the leap.My dad’s voice echoes in my head.
Take the leap. The storm building in my guts explodes. The world looks like someone turned on a massive strobe light. It’s flashing black, then white. Freezing between every motion and every thought.
“This is not the way,” the Druid says.
Fog rolls out of the surrounding forest. Thick, billowy, and white it creeps across the ground surrounding us. In moments it covers our feet. The Druid looks at it, then at me.
“Is he alive? It’s the one question I’ve asked. Over and over.”
“It is not the righ—”
“No!” I scream, cutting him off, and the fog rolls faster, rising to our knees. “No more lies. No more dodges. I don’t care if it is therightquestion. It’s all I care about. I care about him. Is. He. Alive?”
The Druid shrugs, then sighs.
“The choice is yours.”
Dimly I’m aware that what he’s saying could have more than one meaning but the anger latches onto it in the way that best serves my desire.
“It’s my choice?” I ask, grinning, and I know it must look maniacal. This must be what it’s like to lose your mind. To act out without fear of consequences, no matter how insane what you’re about to do is. “Then I choose. I choose Duncan.”
A giant slams a stick onto a kettle drum. That’s the only thing that describes it. There is a massive thump that resonates in my chest and rattles my bones. The Druid’s eyes widen, then he takes a step back, bowing his head. The fog is up to our waist, thick and roiling. The scents of peat moss, heather, and stock animals rises with the fog. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, then take a step into the fog.
“Quinn, no,” Dugald yells.
I glance over my shoulder and see him stumbling out of the ring of trees. He’s reaching for me, and for a moment my heart skips. I notice his wild, curly hair, his strong jaw, and the intensity of his gaze, and it makes my heart stutter. That weird déjà vu sense comes and I know he’s right. We’ve done this before. He and I have danced around each other in some strange way that I don’t understand, playing different roles but always coming back together.
I know it, without understanding how or why. But in knowing it, I reject it. My choice is made. Duncan needs me.
I turn away from Dugald’s outstretched hand and the mist wraps around like the arms of a lover.
