Chapter 8 The Long Road West

Alistair POV

"Find someone nearer," I told the fading magic. "Whatever danger she faces will have reached her long before I do." The words were sensible. They were also a lie, because distance was not the reason I hesitated.

I had known companions, lovers and people whose deaths left absences I continued to carry long after their names disappeared from history. I had watched homes burn, kingdoms alter their borders and mortal families become portraits on walls belonging to strangers. Eventually I learned that permanence was merely a comforting word people used when they had not lived long enough to recognise the pattern. Remaining always ended in loss. Leaving early allowed me to control when it happened. The woman inside the spell threatened that control without having spoken a single word.

I walked to the broken arch where doors had once stood and looked into the forest. The call had already begun withdrawing, accepting the refusal I had not quite given. With every inch it retreated, the ancient recognition inside me pulled harder, not demanding obedience but refusing to let me pretend indifference. I could allow the thread to vanish. I could return to my book, spend another week in the crypt and leave for somewhere new when the place began to feel familiar. Nothing outside me would prevent it. For perhaps the first time in centuries, that freedom offered no comfort at all. "Wait," I said. The spell paused.

I laughed softly at myself, because there are moments when even an immortal should recognise his own defeat. "I will answer. I will come because I choose to discover who she is, and I will remain only for as long as that choice continues to be mine. If your magic finds those terms unacceptable, you may seek a more obedient creature."

Warmth closed around my acceptance. There was no negotiation because the spell had never wanted obedience. It asked only whether I would go, and once I answered, a direction settled within me. The distance was immense. Reaching her would require days of travel even with speed no human could match, and the failing state of the call suggested she did not possess days to spare. Then I sensed the other answers.

One carried the unmistakable weight of a wolf, all restrained strength and fierce instinct, already fixed upon the woman with a certainty that mirrored my own. The other was Fae, controlled enough that his acceptance felt almost like a legal declaration, every word chosen to preserve the freedom the spell had already promised. Neither presence was close to me, but both were considerably nearer to her. Relief came first. She would not be alone while I travelled. Possessiveness followed, cold and immediate, and I found that considerably less amusing.

The call stretched between the three of us for a single impossible moment, with the unknown woman at its centre. I sensed her confusion and the edge of grief, then the caster's strength collapsed. The spell tore apart so violently that the chapel wards flared in answer. Stone cracked beneath my boots, birds erupted from the trees, and the final beat of the dying woman's heart travelled through the severed thread before her presence disappeared. The younger woman remained.

The connection was faint, incomplete and unlike any bond I recognised, but it left me facing west with silver darkening across my vision. She had lost the person who cast the spell. Grief spread through the remnant of the call before distance swallowed it, and the brief touch of that pain destroyed the last of my hesitation.

I collected the coat I had left across the end of a broken pew, placed the book inside my travelling case and descended to the crypt for the few possessions worth taking. There were not many. Centuries had taught me that everything truly necessary could be carried, while everything left behind would eventually belong to someone else.

I checked the crypt before leaving. The narrow chamber contained a blanket, a candle stub and a cup I had acquired without remembering where. None would justify returning. I folded the blanket anyway and placed it on the ledge above the worst of the damp.

Upstairs, I paused beside the pew. My book had left a clean rectangle in the dust. In a few weeks, even that small evidence of my stay would be gone.

The direction beneath my ribs persisted when I stepped into the clearing. I turned north experimentally. It became less comfortable. West brought relief, subtle but unmistakable. At least the remnant could still guide me without requiring an understanding of witchcraft I didn't possess.

I took out my map beneath the moonlight. Two borders lay between these woods and the country toward which the thread pulled. The marked roads would take me through crowded towns. A route across the hills offered fewer questions, but fewer places to shelter from daylight too.

I traced the first stretch with one finger, choosing woodland over speed where necessary. Urgency would not make the sun kinder.

For a moment, I almost laughed. I was making practical arrangements for a woman whose name I hadn't heard, travelling toward two strangers I already resented. The older witch had asked for protection. I doubted she had intended this complication.

The pale thread stirred again. I put away the map before I could persuade myself that sensible routes made the decision sensible.

I fastened my coat and checked the case's clasp. The book fitted badly beside my spare shirt. I considered leaving it, then pushed it farther down. Apparently I wasn't ready to abandon every familiar annoyance for unfamiliar ones.

Before dawn, I stood outside the ruined chapel and looked back at the place that had almost become familiar. A human road curved south beyond the forest, but the direction inside me pulled west across land where roads would only slow me. I could travel faster alone and obtain a horse later, once daylight forced greater caution.

"A werewolf, a Fae and a vampire," I said to the silent trees. "You asked for one protector, my mysterious witch. I cannot help wondering what sort of woman requires all three." No answer came, but the thread inside me held. I turned west and began the long journey toward her.