The End of Magic (The Witches of Echo Park #3)(29)

"Everything okay here, half-caste?" He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. The back of her hand tingled where he kissed it.

-Thomas may be a self-righteous prick, but he can be trusted. I promise.

He spoke only to her, using their telepathic bond.

"I'm fine. Everything is okay," she replied, giving him a quick smile. She didn't know if Thomas could be trusted or not, but she believed in Tem. She was just going to have to trust him when it came to his brother's intentions. 

"I was just telling the ladies that I didn't hurt their friends."

Tem raised an eyebrow, turning his attention to Eleanora.

"He helped to destroy the Montrose line-" Eleanora began, but Thomas interrupted her.

"I saved the girls. If I had meant to wipe them all out, why would I have done that?"

Eleanora shook her head.

"I can't begin to imagine what's going on in that horrid mind of yours."

Thomas snorted.

"A powerful witch wants in my mind. Not the kind of place for your sort, dearie," he spat back. "Don't think you can handle what's in there."

"So much anger, ma chère," Hessika said, stepping between them, her height dwarfing them both as she looked at Thomas. "We must put it all aside in these dark times. Fight among ourselves, and we will surely lose this war."

"But he murdered them," Eleanora said as her gaze lingered on the sleeping girls, sadness filling her eyes.

"We don't know who perpetrated this atrocity," Hessika replied, a light breeze rippling the hem of her diaphanous cream-colored robe. "Appearances can be deceiving."

Hessika's pronouncement seemed to relax Thomas, his shoulders sagging and the tension lines dissolving from his face.

"I appreciate your judicious words," Thomas said. "I understand I was not myself before and that my behavior was, well, unforgivable. For that I am truly sorry. I was under the spell of the darkness . . . The Flood, as you call it in your universe. It was not my choice to attack Devandra Montrose or her children that day."

Tem stood beside his brother, placing a hand on his arm.

"Where we come from, we are you," Tem said, directing his words to Hessika. "Unlike in your universe, magic was never forgotten in ours; it's flourished and grown, helping us to create a more egalitarian society. We, the magicians, are its stewards and we do its bidding. Some of your kind, like Lizbeth and yourself, Hessika"-he lifted his chin toward the Tall Lady-"are half-castes. Somewhere in your family line is a link to our universe. It's why you are Dream Keepers, why you can visit the dreamlands of your own volition. How you can control what you see here. In this place where time is fluid. Where the past, present, and future meet, and if you're lucky, you can get a taste of your destiny."

Hessika nodded.

"I've always wondered . . ."

"Why you were so special?" Thomas asked.

"How we came to be," Hessika said. "Why we could do so much more than just dream."

"It's because you are us," Tem said. "There's so much more you can learn, so much more available to you. You have no idea the power you wield-"

He broke off, realizing he'd gotten carried away with himself.

"What my overly passionate brother is trying to say is: We are Magicians," Thomas said, turning to Lizbeth, his blue eyes flashing with power.

"Which means that we have so much to teach you, last of the human Dream Keepers."


• • •



       
         
       
        

Hessika and Eleanora had disappeared with Thomas, leaving Lizbeth and Tem alone with the girls, who were sleeping the drugged sleep of the dreamlands.

"It isn't like it is in the real world."

Tem slipped his hands underneath Marji's slumbering form and lifted her into the air. She was almost too big to carry, but he cradled her dead weight to his chest with such care and gentleness-as if she were a tiny flower needing delicate handling-that Lizbeth's heart beat a little faster watching him.

"Sleep, I mean. We have to be careful and wake them soon, or they'll sleep forever," he continued. "And that's not an exaggeration. I really mean forever."

The words sent a chill down Lizbeth's spine.

"Are you serious?" she asked, kneeling down to scoop Ginny up in her arms.

The girl was skinny as a rail, all gangling arms and legs; easy for Lizbeth to manage.

"Dead serious," he said in mock seriousness, like he was doing an old-school Clint Eastwood impression. "But in true 'all seriousness,' just think about it. We come here to the dreamlands when we sleep, so where do we go when we sleep while we're here?"