Truthseeker

“I don’t know what the prophecy means. Mending the past—the truth will set us free,” he said, half-mocking. It sent a spasm of discordant notes down Lara’s spine, sarcasm a close brother to untruth. “I can only guess that it means you’ll be able to help us lay my brother to rest and bring his murderer to justice. As for the rest—” He broke off, shaking his head in frustration.

Lara tipped his chin up, studying the lines of helpless anger in his face. If she were Kelly, she thought, she’d let herself stop thinking and simply act on the impulse to bend and brush her lips against his, taste the glow of his skin and give in to the urge that had said I could make a life with this man.

You never take risks. That’s why you never meet anybody. Kelly’s words rushed her, and heat built in her face now, when it hadn’t earlier. Maybe Kelly was right; maybe she was too cautious, her truth-sensing ability holding her back when she might have been daring. Lara acted before wisdom could overwhelm her, and ducked her head to touch her lips to Dafydd’s. “It’s all right. You don’t have to have all the answers.” His breath caught, an unexpectedly rough sound, and she inched back to offer a fragile smile. “I’ll come with you. I’ll try to help.”

The relief and shocked joy in his eyes was worth the price of her own internal agitation. A smile leapt across his features, so bright Lara laughed and touched his lips with her fingers again, then dropped her hand in uncertain apology.

He caught it before it had fallen more than a few inches and brought it back to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. “I owe you a debt I can never repay, simply for the act of trying. Thank you, Lara. Will you—The sooner we go, the better. Will you come now?”

“Now?” Alarm leapt in her chest and turned her fingers cold. “Don’t I need to pack? Or something? How long will we be gone?”

“Time flows differently from my world to yours. The worldwalking magic will have ensured that very little has passed there, to so many years here. But in bringing you home with me, it will reverse. The time you spend there will be as moments here.” He smiled again, bright and hopeful. “I should have you home in time for di

“Oh.” Lara pressed her free hand over her stomach, trying to settle nerves. “I suppose I don’t need to pack, then. We can—yes. We could … just go now.” Her pulse was wild in her throat, unadulterated fear mixed with pure excitement that wanted to turn into uneasy laughter. “All right. Well. All right.”

“Thank you. Thank you, Lara Jansen.” Dafydd drew her to her feet, then turned half away from her to sketch a rectangle in the air. Lara arched an eyebrow and he winked at her, so blatantly trying to ease her anxiety that it worked, a tiny smile breaking through her worries.

With a showman’s flair, Dafydd hooked his fingers in the top of the shape he’d traced, gold light bleeding around his hand. He bowed theatrically, and with the action, ripped open a door to another world.

Nine

Lara’s vision flared to gold, color blinding before it faded out to leave shimmers around the edges of the doorway Dafydd had cut into the air. She caught a startled breath, stayed from making it a shriek by Dafydd’s fingertips against her mouth. “This would be hard to explain to your neighbors, so please don’t shout. I should have warned you.”

Lara moved her head away and cast him a skeptical look. “Should have,” she agreed. “But that would have taken all the fun out of it, wouldn’t it.”

Amusement creased lines into the thin skin around his eyes, then faded without leaving a mark. Rather than reply, he nodded toward the doorway, and Lara turned her attention that way, aware she’d been trying to ignore it.

Starlight shone through a sky of blue shadows and black trees beyond the door’s golden edges. A grove of darkness, hollowed earth dipping low, lush-looking grass blue with moonlight. It invited with the cool comfort of an autumn night, wind rustling branches full of leaves. Even from the far side of the door, the quiet land seemed a sanctuary, drawing Lara to it. “Where does it go?” The question came out hushed, as if speaking aloud might disturb the world beyond the door.

“Wales,” David said, utterly prosaically, and laughed as Lara turned an injured expression on him. His reply had the same wrong tone to it that his name did, playing on and on as it searched for accuracy in an answer that wasn’t entirely wrong. “The Barrow-lands,” he said more softly. “You don’t like fairy tales, Lara. You might not know the stories of my people and our lands under the hills. Let me show you.”

He took a step toward the door, extending his hand toward her as he moved. Lara slipped her fingers into his, surprised to feel that her own were cold with excitement. She thought the idea of stepping through a doorway made of magic to a world that wasn’t her own should be terrifying, but the endless truth in Dafydd ap Caerwyn’s words sang to her. All it left behind was the belief that she would forever regret not daring this exploration.

“Show me,” she said, suddenly decisive. “I said I’d help. Let’s go.” She put words into action almost before she was finished speaking, stepping ahead of Dafydd to cross the door’s threshold first.

Something changed as she stepped across, the weight of the world somehow releasing some of its hold on her. Misty, cool air swept Lara’s cheeks, dew alighting in her hair, and the first breath she drew was tinged with its own sweet flavor, as if it had never gone through an endless cycle of breath. Under the starlight, silver sparkled off her skin, lifting hairs and sending a chill of delight through her. It felt like power, that sensation, lending Lara a confidence she’d never known. Curious, she tried to reach out with it, searching for what it could tell her about the alien truth of the world she now stood in. She felt Dafydd’s weight shift behind her as he, too, crossed over, and she turned toward him with a smile already on her lips.

Hell unleashed itself.

The sky above Lara tore, wings and claws coming from the darkness, fiery eyes stealing the color from the stars to shoot bolts of heat at her. She screamed, flinging herself toward the door, but even as she did so its golden frame shattered under the weight of night. The space she pitched herself through held only nighttime and trees, no safe passage home. Momentum carried her forward into a dive, dew and grass staining her shirt as she skidded across the slippery meadow.

Dafydd bellowed in a language she didn’t recognize, warning clear in his voice. Thunder clapped in the clear air, carrying his shout far beyond the strength of an ordinary cry. Lara twisted back toward him, her fingers digging into the dirt, fear a painful thing clawing at her chest in an attempt to escape.

Lightning came on thunder’s call, shards of electricity shattering the night and briefly—mercifully briefly—illuminating the shadows that poured from the darkness. Lara had no name for them: demons were creatures of substance, not the wraith-thin shadows whose wings swallowed the lightning’s brightness. They were barely more than wing and tooth and claw, a mockery of bats, black skin stretching from jaw to wing to foot, all distorted with each beat of the monstrous wings. One dropped its mouth open to gout flame and Lara screamed again, meaning it to be a warning to Dafydd.

He flinched, but didn’t lose ground, only lifted his hands as if he held a sword. Lightning gathered between his palms, a blade of jagged brilliance cutting apart the horror’s flame, splicing it to either side of him. His blade lasted no longer than that, fading as quickly as its element did, leaving him empty-handed once more. His voice, though, remained steady, almost cajoling, and Lara lurched to her feet, scrambling for the narrow window of protection offered by the Seelie prince’s form. The breadth of his shoulders suddenly seemed much greater than it had in the confines of her home, his elfin delicacy abruptly filled with all the strength and confidence a warrior could need. Perhaps it was the same difference she’d felt in herself on stepping through to Dafydd’s world: a completion that had been lacking in her own.