Elves Invasion

42

“You’ve never seen that done?” Ava asked lightly, like it was no big deal.

“I taught you all I know about field magic,” Windyard said. “And I know it isn’t strong enough to repel bullets. You did something different. I felt it for a moment.”

“Well, it’s not actually field magic,” she said, backtracking. “Instead of just putting energy into your willstones, like making a deposit, I use them to transmute energy directly. You’re enveloped in a flow of energy that’s strong enough to repel bullets. For a little while, anyway.”

“You’re controlling our willstones?” Tristan asked uncomfortably. He shifted in his seat. “Are you controlling us when you do it?”

In the heat of battle, none of them had ever been able to tell the difference. It was such a subtle thing that Ava started to resent that line in the sand. So what if she had to possess them to do it? It had kept them alive.

“I only did it for a few moments when they were shooting at you.” Ava made an exasperated sound and turned to Windyard. “It’s the first thing you ever taught me. Remember how you had me heal my ankle through your willstone that first night I was in your world? Or when we fought the Woven in the cabin? I didn’t have a willstone then so I used yours to transmute the energy we needed. That’s all I’m doing.” She looked around at her coven’s unsettled faces, feeling defensive. “You’ve always known this, Windyard. When I have to, I can use any of my claimed’s willstone like I would use my own. Is it such a big deal I had to possess you for one second in order to save your lives?”

Ava overheard the whisper of his thoughts. I did this, he said to himself. His mouth went slack and he stared at her as a memory slipped through his head, unbidden.

. . . Tristan sits across from me, jealous and angry. Ava is still in my bed, and I know he thinks something happened between us. Something did happen. I let her claim me, and now I’ve given her willstones—the tools to become a true witch. I’m such an i***t. Why don’t I just start hanging people myself and get it over with?

“Whatever happened to keeping her out of your head?” Tristan asks me.

“I didn’t have any other choice,” I reply, glad that this conversation isn’t taking place in mindspeak. I did have another choice. I could have run and let her die. Why can’t I just let her go? “Believe me. I’m regretting it,” I say.

“What even gave you the idea?” Tristan asks.

He’s not angry anymore. He knows I’m sick. Afflicted. Addicted. Why is she the only woman I’ve ever been able to love? Something’s wrong with me.

“I thought about how she’d healed her ankle,” I say. “It was a long shot, but I figured she’d already transmuted energy inside herself using my stone, and it was only one step farther to then pour it back into me.”

“That’s one hell of a step, though.” Tristan looks scared. He should be. I am. His voice drops. “Do you think she could invade a stone? Take it over without permission . . .”

The memory flash ended and Ava found herself looking at a leaner, longer-haired version of the Windyard in the memory. One thing was the same, though. He was still scared of her..

“What does that mean—invade a stone?” she asked him. She could feel the rest of the coven’s confusion and curiosity.

“It means you don’t have to touch a willstone to claim it,” Windyard replied, like there was no point in trying to avoid the inevitable anymore. “You can just take any willstone you want as long as another witch hasn’t already claimed it.” His brow furrowed in thought as something occurred to him. “And maybe you could even steal a willstone from another witch. You’d have to fight her, but I can’t imagine there are many witches who would have a shot at withstanding you.”

“I can think of one,” Ava murmured, remembering the sensation she’d felt when she’d tried to touch the Queen’s willstone.

“Grace?” Windyard guessed.

“She’s been claiming the Woven remotely through the speaking stones for decades,” Ava said. “So she can invade a willstone, too. And she’s strong. If Grace has physically touched a willstone to claim it, I don’t think I can take it over. But if she hasn’t touched it, and she’s only used the speaking stones to claim, I know I can muscle her out.”

“How do you know that?” Tristan asked.

“Because I’ve done it.” Ava felt their stares, and she knew she had to tell them all of it no matter how disturbed some of them might become. “I’ve claimed a Woven I call Pale One. She used to belong to Grace, but I touched her willstone and now she’s mine.”

“The coyote Woven who attacked you outside Baltimore?” Tristan said, knowing the answer. “So that’s why she followed us.”

Ava nodded, an uncertain look on her face. “The other Tristan told you?”

“He showed me that time you and he were sitting up against the tree, talking about how to study the Woven. You told him to leave her be. That she wasn’t going to harm us,” Tristan admitted. He looked down at the table and ran his hands over it as if he recognized it. “We showed each other pretty much everything during the crossing.”

Seeing the shape of his hands and the cast of his features in the familiar light of home, Ava could almost imagine that this Tristan was her Tristan, but stopped herself. If she started allowing herself to think that they were the same, and that her Tristan lived on in him, then his death would mean nothing.

“So, not only are you possessing us, you’re claiming Woven on top of it?” Caleb asked, the words sticking in his throat. “Are we expected to become stone kin with Pale One? Share our memories and mindspeak? Oh, sorry—what would you call it with a coyote? Mindbarking?” His mouth was pressed thin in disgust.