All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [311]
So Eliot was free. Finally free.
But the elation of his new freedom faded because it also meant he was alone now, too.
“Besides,” Audrey said to Fiona, and set one hand on her shoulder. “One must not separate an Infernal from his lands for too long. They do not fare well.”
“But Eliot’s really not an . . . ,” Fiona’s voice trailed off. She looked at Eliot like he had a terminal disease—or like he was already dead. She regained her composure and said, “Well, he can’t go. How is he going to carry all this?” She gestured at the table. “That’s not even taking into account all the books he’s going to need to pass Miss Westin’s final exam.”
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
Cee then entered the dining room carrying a large bag in each hand, and with Lady Dawn’s case bouncing along on top of one. The bags were made of a heavy tapestry-like tan-and-purple paisley material.
Eliot didn’t know what she was doing, but he immediately went to his great-grandmother to help. “Let me get those.” Eliot tried to lift one of her carpetbags. He couldn’t budge one with both hands. It must have weighed two hundred pounds.
Cee handed him his guitar case.
“Cecilia has packed your things,” Audrey explained. “She’s going with you, Eliot.”
Eliot blinked and looked between Audrey and Cee. They weren’t kidding.
Relief coursed through him. He wouldn’t be alone . . . even though he’d have to deal with Cee’s cooking—it was a small price to have someone he knew, someone he could trust, by his side.
Cee patted his arm, seeming to understand everything.
Audrey beckoned to Eliot. He set his guitar aside and embraced his mother—clutching on to her because it might the last time he ever hugged her.
Audrey went through the motions, but there was no warmth. Her embrace was rigid and dry and without feeling.
He started to pull away, but she held him, turned, and whispered so softly into his ear that he barely heard: “Your father told me of your tie to land. You and Cecilia must hurry. There is good reason to do so, which she will explain on the way. Now go, and be safe, my Eliot.”
Audrey squeezed him once, and then released him.
She’d been talking to his father? Since when were they on speaking terms?
He stared into Audrey’s eyes. There was no love in them, but something new, a steely concern. Was that all she had to give him?
No. Something else glimmered in her gaze: something . . . strategic.
He nodded, not entirely understanding, but at least acknowledging that he had heard.
There was an awkward moment when Eliot couldn’t move. He felt a crushing impulse to stay where he was, to stay home and stick with what he knew.
But he had to leave because it would be his first step on his own, as an adult, and if he didn’t move now, he never would.
So, without a sigh, he picked up Lady Dawn and marched down the stairs.
Cee, Audrey, and Fiona followed.
He stood in front of the door, pausing to trace over the patterns of color and light on its four stained glass panes. He must have passed those every day and until this moment he hadn’t realized how much he was going to miss something as simple and stupid as the geometric lines that made the mosaic of a field of grapevines and harvesters.
He opened the door, stepped onto the threshold, and turned back to them.
Audrey nodded and held up one hand, then curled it and dropped it to her side—a motion that seemed to communicate both good-bye and stay.
Fiona stood by their mother, her arms folded in front of her. “Please don’t do this, Eliot,” she whispered.
Eliot wanted to move to his sister, but there was a barrier between them now that hadn’t been there a moment ago. He looked into her eyes. They glistened with tears, but Fiona quickly blinked them away.
And for the first time in his life, he couldn’t read her. There was no connection.
He turned his back to them. “Come on, Cee.”
He marched down the stairs and onto the sidewalk. He heard Cecilia mutter her good-byes to Audrey and fuss over Fiona to take care of herself and to study hard—and then she trotted to catch up to Eliot.
“Your mother told you?