Into Darkness

47

“We never spoke of it. But from what I understand about what happened between her and Lumina yesterday, there wasn’t a doubt in Honor’s mind that plunging that sword through her sister’s back would cause no permanent harm. So she must know. And I suspect that has a great deal to do with her attitude, as well.”

His brows pulled to a frown, and Morgan’s expression softened.

“How would you feel, Magnus, knowing you were going to outlive every single person you loved . . . over and over again? Knowing that to get close only guaranteed you pain? Knowing that even if you someday tired of life, if you’d lived a thousand years and couldn’t stand a single minute any longer, there was nothing you could do about it?”

The enormity of it stole his breath. He stood there in the dim corridor with the sound of dripping water like cannon fire in his ears as he thought about—really thought about—what it would be like.

Morgan said, “I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t like it. In fact, I think I’d feel cursed. The thing that makes life so precious is that it’s fleeting. Take that away, and life becomes like visiting your in-laws; just one more irritating obligation you really wish you could get out of, but can’t.”

“You’re right,” he admitted. “That’s got to be the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Remember that the next time you’re tempted to snarl at Honor,” Morgan gently admonished.

“Snarl? I don’t snarl!” His shout echoed down the corridor, and Morgan lifted an eyebrow, smiling.

Magnus said, “Okay. Conversation over. A man can only stand being wrong so many times in a one-minute span.” He turned and began to walk away.

Morgan’s laugh followed him. “Now you know how my husband feels!”

Magnus felt a deep wave of sympathy for Xander, which was quickly overtaken by a pressing need to get horizontal; Lumina’s hangover had given him a respite for a few minutes while he talked with Morgan, but judging by the pounding in his temples, and the strange noises emitting from his stomach, his time was up.

He strode through the shifting shadows toward his cave, his mind a tangle, his stomach in knots, his head feeling as if it weighed a thousand pounds, completely unaware of the blinking red glow that had begun to emanate from Beckett’s darkened lab on the other side of the colony.

FOURTEEN

The bath was sublime. Cold, but sublime.

Morgan had taken Lu to a breathtakingly lovely pool, fed by a fast-running stream that dropped into a waterfall. The water was so clear she could see the silver glint of minnows swimming near the rocky bottom, and after Morgan left her so she could have some privacy, Lu floated on her back, staring up at the constellation of stalactites on the shadowy ceiling high above, pondering all that had happened in the last few days.

Then, alone in the cool, echoing dark, she finally allowed herself to cry.

She had to eventually get out of the water to do it because the sobs were too strong, wracking her body until she could hardly breathe. She sat on a rock, wrapped in one of the soft towels Morgan had given her, with her arms wrapped around her knees, wretched and homesick and soul-bruised, letting it all go.

“I’m sorry, Father.” Her whisper carried over the water, bouncing softly off the cave walls until it died under the rush of the waterfall. “I’m so sorry. I love you.”

Though Magnus had said her birth mother was alive, and her birth father might possibly be as well, her heart was broken. The man who’d raised her had died because he’d taken her in, protected her, and sacrificed for her. He’d been killed because of her.

I’ll never let that happen again. Even if it meant never getting close to another living soul, she wasn’t going to be the cause of anyone else’s death. From now on, she would take care of herself.

She might, however, do a little killing of her own. The memory of the Grand Minister’s cruel, sneering face flashed before her eyes, and her hands clenched.

The can’t-die thing might prove to be useful.

The thought of what else it might prove to be was too much for her to consider. And she took a little solace in the fact that at least there was one other person she knew who was afflicted with the same thing: Honor.

Frigid, sword-wielding, b***h of the Universe Honor.

She dressed in the clothes Morgan had left for her and headed out, determined to have a cozy little one-on-one chat with her sister. But she was quickly intercepted by Beckett and a group of a half dozen other young people, trailing behind him like admiring puppies.

Even the three guys looked at Beckett as if he were some kind of luminary. It could have had something to do with the soft yellow light emanating from his head.

“Hi!” Beckett enthused, flashing his thousand-watt smile. “We were just headed out; you’re coming, right?”