Bound by Flame (43 page)

She was going to expel Cynda—or try to.

Well, let her.

Because I’m not friggin’ going.

Cynda gazed at Mother Keara, aching down in her depths, feeling as if someone was trying to tear out her heart. She hated the old woman for forcing this issue, but loved her, too, the way a child always loves her mother—even when that mother is
wrong
.

Slowly, watching for any sign of sudden moves or bursts of energy, Riana, Cynda, and Merilee locked arms.

The Mothers moved quietly past them to the head of the chamber, ignoring the broken glass and bits of wood, and turned to face the triad.

To the youngest Mother, Mother Keara said, “Fetch the demon, and I need a chair.” She rubbed her lower back. “I’m gettin’ too damned old for all this hoo-ha.”

About half an hour later, the Mothers were seated in chairs at the far end of the chamber, and the adepts had carried in a scarred, charred wooden table and placed it in front of them. One adept stood behind each Mother, in case the women needed something, or had an errand that needed running.

And to learn,
Cynda thought.

To see what happens when a Sibyl goes against her Mothers’ choices.

She had dressed herself in jeans and a white tunic after burning off her other clothes, and she stood on the left of the chamber with Riana and Merilee, holding their hands. Every few minutes, tears slid down her cheeks. There was nothing she could do about that, even if it made her mad as hell.

She didn’t want to cry about this. She wanted to pull Merilee, Riana, and Nick behind her, back them slowly out of the castle, and blow shit up.

Like that would help anything.

But it would damned sure feel good.

The chamber door opened.

Heart pounding, Cynda let go of her triad sisters and turned, expecting to see Nick.

Instead, it was Andy, hair down, sleepy eyes half-open, dressed in a canary yellow robe. An air adept in blue robes walked with her, doing her best to contain the ever-widening water slick spreading out from Andy’s feet.

Andy kept scooting away from the girl, like she had no idea what the hell was going on. When she drew even with Riana, Merilee, and Cynda, she glared at the three of them and jerked a thumb toward her companion. “This little twit keeps calling me a mother and telling me I have to be at this kri-new. What in the living fuck is a kri-new, and why did I have to get up and put on a Big Bird suit to come to it?”

“It’s a conclave.” Merilee reached out and straightened the shoulder of Andy’s robe. “You’re the only water Sibyl, so that makes you the new Antilla Mother—uh, New York Mother, I guess. Water Sibyls always wore yellow robes. You’re representing your element.”

Andy leaned into Merilee’s face. “I’m getting my gun if anybody calls me a mother again.
That’s
what I’m doing. Got me?”

Merilee held up both hands and shrugged.

For the first time all morning, Cynda felt a little like laughing. Since she didn’t want to drown in a spontaneous waterfall, she refrained.

Riana had to look away to keep herself composed as Andy and her nervous little attendant made their way to the table with the other Mothers.

When Andy got settled at the table’s far right end, Cynda glanced over her shoulder—and saw Nick standing on the other side of the room, gazing back at her with those intense black eyes.

Her chest squeezed tight the way it always did when he looked at her like that. Her hands tingled, craving the steel of his chest, the silk of his hair on her fingertips. She wanted to kiss him and hug him and apologize for all the Sibyls, for this entire unfair and ridiculous mess.

But he didn’t look angry at all, or even hurt.

He just looked handsome as hell in those jeans and that dark green sleeveless T-shirt, with his long hair loose on his shoulders.

And a little worried.

“Order,” called Mother Yana, the oldest Sibyl in the room and the senior Mother.

Cynda tore her eyes from Nick and forced herself to face the great table. Smoke rose from her tunic, and her right sleeve was already history. At least she was barefoot. No boots to melt.

The glare off Andy’s yellow robes made her shake her head—that and the fact that Andy’s eyes kept drifting shut, popping open only when her attendant nudged her shoulder. Cynda figured for that air Sibyl’s sake, it was a good thing Andy didn’t have her SIG and cuffs handy.

Mother Yana pushed herself to her feet and met Cynda’s gaze.

“Cynda Flynn, Mother Keara has informed us that she varned you of the consequences of pursuing a relationship vith Nick Lowell, a Curson demon who has not submitted to the ritual to make him safe in our presence.” The ancient woman’s smile wasn’t unpleasant. More sympathetic than anything. “Is this true?”

Cynda’s heart started a hard, relentless pounding, but she held her head high even as Riana and Merilee squeezed both of her hands until they were damned near numb. “Yes.”

Mother Yana sat and lowered her gaze to her fingers.

When Cynda glanced at Nick, his head was high, too, and his shoulders squared. He stood like a soldier at parade rest, giving up nothing with his expression or body language.

That one’s mine. Just look at him. Who
wouldn’t
want that?

Mother Eileen spoke next, bringing Cynda’s attention back to the front of the room. “When faced with the choice between your triad and life as a Sibyl and this man, you chose the relationship.”

After carefully reclaiming her hands before she lost circulation, Cynda took a very slow, very warm centering breath. She focused on Mother Keara, and made sure her voice sounded loud and strong when she said, “I chose Nick.
And
my triad.
And
my life as a Sibyl. I love them all, and I won’t surrender any of them.”

Mother Keara’s face went flat. She stared at Cynda with those blazing green eyes, and frowned. “Nick Lowell is this important to you, that you would set aside all that you’ve ever known? You would surrender everything to love him?”

Once more, Cynda glanced at Nick.

This time, he was looking straight at her, black eyes calm, but waiting.

Her stomach burned hot. Smoke drifted off her shoulders and arms. For a moment she couldn’t breathe, but she balled her fists and answered Mother Keara. “Yes. Nick’s worth that much to me. But I refuse to give up my triad and my connection to fire.” She calmed herself as best she could before the smoke got too thick, and made herself continue. “I don’t mean you any disrespect, Mother. I love you very much. But I’m a Sibyl now, and a member of the North Manhattan fighting triad, and that’s what I’ll be when I die. If you want any part of my identity, you’ll have to take it by force. I won’t be handing it over.”

“She’s ours,” Riana confirmed, moving in close in case they needed to defend themselves.

Against six Mothers.

Shit!

Merilee pulled in tight with Cynda, too, and a breeze stirred at Cynda’s bare ankles. “You can’t have her. You’ll have to fight us all.”

Mother Yana smiled openly this time, at Riana. Cynda saw her wink and clasp her hands together, as if she was fiercely proud of the strength of Riana’s triad.

Mother Anemone kept her eyes on the table, but Cynda thought the woman might be smiling, too.

Andy was sound asleep. When she snored, the air Sibyl attendant rolled her eyes and nudged her shoulder again. Lightning fast, Andy grabbed the girl’s robe collar, pulled her close, and whispered, “Don’t
do
that, okay? Last warning.”

Smoke played around Mother Keara’s shoulders. She focused on Nick this time. “And you, Curson. Nick Lowell. We do appreciate all you’ve done for us. Don’t be thinkin’ we’re ungrateful.”

Nick stood motionless, arms still folded, gaze forward now, at the table and the Mothers. He didn’t say a word.

Excellent choice,
Cynda thought, blood heating at the injustice.

She still could not believe any of this was happening. After they got through it in one piece, she’d need to blow up a
bunch
of shit, just to let off enough steam to sleep tonight. After a long, sweaty round or two with Nick.

Nowhere in her mind would she consider the loss of her triad, or her Sibyl identity, or Nick. It wasn’t happening. Wouldn’t happen. All that fear had left Cynda on the battlefield, and right that second, even staring down a table of women who might try to wreck her life, she felt as strong as any Mother.

Mother Keara wasn’t finished with Nick. The old woman’s green eyes bored into him with her next question. “Since
a chroí
wishes to stay in her triad, stay a Sibyl, and keep you as well, will you submit yourself to Motherhouse Russia and undergo the ritual to make yourself safe?”

Cynda started to say something in protest, but Riana’s grip on her elbow slowed her down.

Nick kept his stance, and he didn’t look at her. Her body tensed, waiting for his response, praying he wouldn’t agree to that insane, dangerous procedure.

“I will not submit to the ritual,” he said.

Relief slammed into Cynda. Fire lifted off her toes and fingers, and she let it go with a rush of breath. The flames dropped to the floor, and Riana’s earth energy quickly snuffed them out.

Nick let his arms relax against his sides and faced Cynda. His expression softened, and he let her see that kindness, the love and gentleness they shared each time they touched. “I do plan to marry you, firebird. As soon as you’re ready. I’m not going away unless they kill me.”

Before Cynda could tell him she was ready right now, Mother Keara shot to her feet and slammed both hands against the table.

Cynda jumped. Yanked a load of fire energy toward herself.

She raised her own hands and gathered the heat, hating the idea of fighting Mother Keara, but ready to do it. Smoke poured from her neck and face. She tasted flames on her tongue, felt them flow into her lungs when she breathed.

Beside her, Riana and Merilee drew their elements toward them.

Nick resumed his at-rest position, tight line, muscles tensed, his skin glowing a light gold.

The man was ready for anything.

At the front of the room, Mother Keara broke out laughing.

The sound echoed against stone walls.

Andy swiveled her head to take in what was happening, obviously confused.

“Good for you,” Mother Keara said to Nick. “I knew she made a good choice.”

Cynda blinked.

She eased back on the fireball she had been forming, then let it go out altogether. The stone-hard tightness in her chest loosened a fraction, but she had no idea what Mother Keara would do or say next.

“What’s going on?” Andy asked, tugging at her wet yellow robe.

Nick seemed too surprised to move.

Cynda felt the same way.

Judging by the quick disappearance of earth and air energy, so did Merilee and Riana.

Mother Keara spent a few moments glaring in Andy’s direction, briefly reminding Cynda of all the ancient stories about how water Sibyls and fire Sibyls didn’t always get along.

When Mother Keara once more faced the room, she spoke to Cynda. “It’s rare for a fire Sibyl to marry, and rarer still for that union to succeed.” She gestured to Nick. “If you weren’t willin’ to risk everything for this man, your relationship wouldn’t be lastin’ more than a few months—if that.”

Cynda lowered her hands and stood between her triad sisters, giving off tiny puffs of smoke. Once more, she was feeling relieved. Maybe. Still confused. A little pissed at Mother Keara, at all the Mothers.

Was this just another lesson, like so many before?

But she didn’t think so. Mother Keara would never hurt her casually, or for sport.

No.

This had been an important test, to be certain Cynda was ready for the monumental choice she was making, to love Nick, to have a life with him. She reached inside herself and soothed the heat roiling through her insides, spreading it through her body to take the edge off her tension.

When she turned her attention to Nick, the warmth inside her doubled. He had straightened, come out of his ready posture, and he was studying Mother Keara intently as she spoke again, this time to him.

“Any man willin’ to surrender even the smallest piece of himself could never survive life with a fire Sibyl.” Mother Keara smiled. “If I don’t miss my guess, you’ll do just fine, Nick Lowell, even with a Sibyl as strong as my
a chroí
.”

“Thank you,” he said, still standing straight and tall, muscled arms flexed.

Simple. Brief. Totally Nick.

Cynda broke away from Riana and Merilee and crossed the room to join him. She couldn’t believe the force of the emotion swirling through her body, just as powerful as any fire she had ever touched. She really did love him, with every bit of her being. And it felt damned good.

When he saw her coming, his eyes softened, and he pulled her to him, holding her with one arm around her shoulder as they both faced the big table.

Instead of ending the conclave, Mother Keara reached into her robe pocket and drew out a bell. When she rang it, the chamber door opened, and an adept came in bearing a silver tray with a chalice, a plate of bread, and what looked like two small metal bands about the size of…rings. As the adept approached the table, Cynda saw the ornate metalwork on the bands, which had been fashioned out of a series of Celtic knot patterns. The metal itself was steely gray, so bright it looked almost white in the sunlight.

Is that tungsten?

The metal that won’t burn?

Mother Keara’s tone grew considerably lighter. Lilting. Actually—happy? “In older times, young couples in love often chose handfasting, to declare their love and bind themselves together for a year and a day. At the end of that time, they decided if they wanted to join for another year, for eternity, or go their separate ways.”

Oh. My. Goddess.

Cynda’s heart started to pound again.

She cut her eyes to Nick.