“I remember the day Manx arrived.” Conan sits in a wooden chair behind a large wooden desk. The chair creaks every time he adjusts in the seat, and I can’t help wondering how long that chair’s been around. His hands are steepled together atop the desk, dark circles around his eyes. He looks drained, and I mean that literally. It’s as if most of his energy has been taken away from him by Decius, like he was feeding off of these people to stay alive. It clearly wasn’t enough. I was what he really needed to be satiated. The thought of it still makes me shudder.
I sit up higher in my chair, finding Conan’s eyes again. “What do you remember about it?”
“I remember him being a random visitor,” he states, scratching the side of his head. “At first, he kept to himself. He was quiet, didn’t really join us for the festivities. He was staying in Whisper Grove Inn for a while. Then suddenly, Nelle died. She was Whisper Grove’s doctor. Healed a lot of us. Took care of us. She was never sick, and she drank her youthwater every day. She was healthy, so I thought her death was very strange and not at all expected, but I figured it just happened—that something went wrong, just as it would with anyone else. We had a proper burial for her, put her house up for sale, but the next day, Manx bought the house as-is from Nelle’s son. He moved right in without even taking any of Nelle’s furniture out. That never sat well with me. I mean, her body wasn’t even cold yet, but I understood Nelle’s son for wanting to sell it so quickly. He didn’t live in Whisper Grove. He was a gunmaker, traveled a lot between Blackwater and Ripple Hills.”
I nod, waiting for him to continue.
“After Manx moved in, he opened up a bit more. He came to Trible Hall and introduced himself, then confessed that he’d been running away from bad Mythics and needed a safe place. And you know how we are. We believe in peace here. We don’t want anyone feeling unsafe in this world, so when he told me his story, it felt only right that he should stay a while. From then on, we spoke every day, and that’s when I learned he could heal people as well, and seeing as we needed another doctor, well…it felt right to give him the position. We’d meet for tea right here in Tribal Hall, or we’d catch a drink or two at the inn.” He hesitates a bit, his eyes wandering. “It wasn’t until about two weeks after meeting him that my memory started to slip. I couldn’t really explain it at first. Simple things would happen, like losing my house key, or not remembering where I placed my shoes. One time I’d even lost my hat, found it outside in a bush.” He huffs a laugh. “I told Manx what I was feeling, and he gave me something for my memory. Some kind of elixir. I took it every day as he suggested, and…that’s when I felt my sense of being had vanished, or like I wasn’t really a person anymore, if that makes sense, but more of a vessel, really. Something being controlled by someone else.”
I stare at Conan, trying not to flinch. A vessel…just like Garrett and that snake on earth.
“After that, I agreed to everything Manx said,” Conan says. “I agreed to step down and let him take over without argument. I agreed to remove myself from Tribal Hall completely, and I kept taking that bloody elixir, because he told me to, even though I felt like it wasn’t working. I wasn’t able to tell him no. I could only say yes, and it seemed that way for everyone in Whisper Grove eventually. He became our leader, and we relied on him. Trusted him.” He pauses, picking up his container of water and gulping some down.
“I will say that at some point, the elixir began to wear off for me,” he continues. “I was going to visit Manx to tell him that my memory was becoming fuzzy again, but when I went to his house, I saw someone else inside.” Conan’s face pales, the dark circles making his eyes appear rounder. “He…he wasn’t himself. It’s like he’d transformed into this darker man—someone I’d never seen before. But he, um…well, he looked like a demon from the tales about Inferno Isle. And he had a man in the cottage with him. The man was in some sort of trance as he stared at the dark man, and dark wisps floated in the air, like he was stealing his energy, or feeding his dark energy to the man. Whatever he was doing, I refused to stand for it, so I banged on the door and demanded him to stop. But that night is the last thing I really remember about Manx…if that was even his real name. It’s the last any of us really remember about ourselves.” Conan scratches at the scruff on his jaw. “I know it all sounds impossible, but it’s true. That man…he did something to us. He…used us. Harbored the energy of Whisper Grove to keep himself strong. He manipulated the people and the territory, and now that he’s gone, we’ve been sucked dry. We’ve been left with nothing.”
“Believe me,” I say. “Nothing about what you’ve said is impossible. I’ve seen some mad shit that I never would’ve believed if I hadn’t caught it with my own two eyes.”
Conan bobs his head and sighs with relief, eyes glistening.
“That person you saw sucking the energy from that man that night wasn’t Manx. It was Decius.”
Conan frowns at me. “What? No, that’s impossible! You mean Decius, from the original Tethered?”
“Yes.”
“But…how? All the Tethered died. How is that… I’m not understanding. How is that possible? And how do you know this?”
“Because he tried taking my life too. My energy.”
Conan’s jaw drops, eyes rounding. “B-but how did you escape?”
I lift a shoulder. “Got lucky. But this would explain why he could get past the protection barrier of Whisper Grove,” I tell him. “He’s stronger than any Mythic out there. His energy is very powerful, going back millions of years.”
“And I just welcomed him in,” Conan breathes.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Believe it or not, that man practically raised me. Turns out he was only using me.”
“Oh.” Conan’s eyes remain glassy as he looks me all over. “I’m so sorry. No one should ever be treated that way.”
I say nothing to that.
“I’m also sorry to have bothered you with this. We felt there was nowhere to turn, really. Vanora has so many guards and hoops to jump through just to get in. We thought to go to Luxor, seek The Council’s help, but it’s too far a journey, and I was afraid some of my people would die during their travels. Blackwater seemed like the safest option.”
“The Council wouldn’t have done a damn thing for you,” Killian grumbles behind me. “You were smart coming to us.”
“My Gunman is correct.” Killian fidgets at my side, grumbling a bit. He hates when I call him my Gunman, though that’s what his status is in the Blackwater Clan. He and Rowan are my Gunmen, and they’re the only two people in Blackwater with that title. “You can put your mind at ease, Conan. You came to the right man. We will help you,” I assure him.
“Conan bobs his head gratefully. “Thank you, Monarch Harlow.”
“Call me Caz.”
He nods again.
“We’ve brought plenty of food for you and your people, lots of regular water for the children, and Alora, the queen of Vanora, has agreed to deliver several barrels of youthwater for the adults within the next couple of hours. Your people will survive. As for Decius, he’s gone now. You’ll never see him again.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I just am. Trust me.” I won’t get into talking about the Regals. Some people believe in them, but many don’t—and for good reason. They practically left Vakeeli to their own devices and went off the grid. I was one of the many who didn’t believe in them until we stumbled across Korah. Sure, the stories were interesting to read, but I always had a hunch they were fairytales—made up things to give people a reason to meet, pray, and have someone to send their worries to. I don’t feel like going into a conversation about whether they still exist or not. They’ve kept low profiles for a reason. Best it stays that way before people try to find them.
“Well, that’s wonderful. And that puts my mind at ease.” Conan sits up taller, looking from me to Killian and then Rowan. “I can’t help sensing there’s a catch to all of this though.”
I press my lips, wanting so badly to pull out a bloom, but these people are practically dying, and I don’t think my secondhand smoke will help. Instead, I turn to Killian, who puts his attention on Conan. “Killian? Mind taking the floor?”
“We are more than willing to help your people, but we do request that once your energy is restored, you’ll help us,” Killian says, taking a step forward from his corner. “As I’m sure you’re aware, the ruby caves are in our territory. We have lots of them, and because of a slight hiccup with the monarch of Ripple Hills, we now owe them five million rubies.”
Conan gapes. “Oh my.”
“There’s no way we can have our men mining for that many rubies within a month without some of them dying. We don’t want our people suffering because of our errors.”
“My errors,” I mumble. I still don’t regret killing Rami though. I’d kill him a thousand more times if it meant saving Willow.
“Once your men are feeling healthier and stronger, we would like to work out a plan to take shifts. Our men mine for a few hours a day and night, and then your men can come and mine as well. With the help of your people, we could get the rubies in no time.”
“My men aren’t used to mining,” Conan says, hesitant.
“Get them used to it.” Killian takes another step toward the desk. “Tell them it’s this simple favor that will only take a week, or they’ll be without food and youthwater for their families for the rest of their lives. Because believe me, the other territories are selfish. You may catch some luck with Alora, but like you said, you’ll have to go through hoops to get to her, and by the time you do, it may be too late for your people.”
Conan’s throat bobs, and he picks up the container of water from his desk again, opening it and taking a large gulp. I notice his hands are shaking. “Very well,” he gasps. “I’ll see to it that they restore their health and prepare to assist your people in the ruby mines.”
“We hate being the kind of people to dangle meat over someone’s head,” I tell him as wariness sinks into his eyes. “That’s not why we came here. We truly did come to help, and that’s what we’ll do. But in order for all territories to get along and respect one another, we must help each other. We must become allies. Once the mining is done, your people are free, I guarantee it. We’ll never ask anything of you again. We’ll send food as you need it until your crops grow back in and you start your trades again. Your people are free to come to Blackwater to shop for what they need. This isn’t a threat, I guarantee you. It’s a bargain. Sometimes these hard decisions must be made for our people to thrive.”
“I completely understand,” Conan returns, sounding slightly more assured.
“Good.” I push to a stand. “Mining will start in exactly seven days. That should be enough time for your men to restore their strength. In the meantime, do let us know if there is anything you need, and we’ll take care of it.”
“Of course.” Conan stands, stretching his arm over the desk and holding out a hand.
“I don’t shake.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t take it personally.”
Conan nods, snatching his hand away.
“And for the love of Vakeeli, make your lives easier by getting transmitters and bloody cars in this territory!” Rowan says. He can never leave a meeting without saying something.
Conan chuckles. “I will work on that as well. In due time.”
“Right. Let’s go boys.” If we leave now, we’ll likely make it back by dinner.
When I’m in the car, I feel a cold prickle on the back of my neck. The prickle is familiar and sends goosebumps all over my body. I peer out the window with a sharp gasp, scanning my surroundings but there’s no one around buy Whisper Grovians. I search the trees, the hills, but there are so many that it’s impossible to tell if someone is watching.
“Alright, Caz?” Rowan asks.
I swallow, facing forward again. That prickle felt just like the iciness from Decius…but that can’t be. He’s been put away.
No. It’s all in my head. It’s all in my head. No one is coming after me. No one with power of that magnitude. Not anymore. They can’t be.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “I’m good.”
