Fire Kissed (19 page)
The drive home was too long, Kaye’s composed silence a needle in his mood. She’d been resistant to his advances from the beginning, and now he knew why. His ambitious woman wasn’t going to settle. When they arrived home, she was checking the time, as if she had somewhere else to be and was anxious to get going.
“I have a client this evening... .”
She wasn’t going anywhere. He could make Brand House strong.
He shrugged off his coat and handed it to Gerard, one of the house staff. Then turned to help Kaye off with hers, only to find that she wasn’t wearing one. Her blouse was lovely, but too thin for the weather. He paused, hands midair.
Her black eyes glittered. “We seem to have left mine behind.”
The criticism implied smarted, a bad beginning, but this—
this
—would make up for it. “Follow me.”
this
—would make up for it. “Follow me.”
Ferro led her beyond the formal rooms of the house, past Camilla’s desk and his office. He turned into a small, comfortable receiving room for visitors, though no visitor had ever waited upon him there. At the opposite end was a door, always locked, with one key, which he kept in his pocket.
The door opened to downward-leading steps. Shadow was dense there, flood deep, the whispers fully audible. The fae enjoyed looking into the great Houses for entertainment.
He started down the first several steps, only to turn and find Kaye hesitating at the top. Her face had paled, and her scars were whiter still.
“I’ll wait here,” she said, her usually smooth voice now thready.
“Don’t be silly.” He turned and continued down. “Come see the future, the iron behind your House. Once I explain, you’ll have no reservations whatsoever.”
Her footsteps were ghost light, childlike, as she descended to the cellar floor. Her eyes were so big, he’d almost think she was scared. Maybe she didn’t like tight places. He could use that.
Her whole body stiffly rotated to see the contents of the room. Ferro had the strangest impression that if he touched her now, she would shatter. Curious.
Kaye had to look, but she didn’t want to see. Her heart pounded so hard, it sent percussion ripples out into the soupy Shadow of the cellar. Whispers teased her mind; she refused to hear the voices, which only made them louder.
... you knew already ...
... what else could it be? ...
... you belong in the dark ...
... a brand in the dark ...
The moment Ferro had opened the door, the moment she’d seen the stairs falling into darkness, she’d known. Time had whipped her back in a parabola that was too Ordered and perfect to be anything other than angelic in origin. The cellar door was the zenith of the whiplash are in her life. She was back at the beginning, just older. No wiser.
The angel before her had collapsed, immobile and gray, in a heap on the floor. No glow pushed Shadow back. The smell approached the stink of a wraith. The figure was slight, the fine bones and softness of a woman. Her gummy eyes were open, sightless. Lips parted.
“Did you know iron is an excellent conductor of Shadow?” Ferro nudged the form with his foot, and the angel rolled onto her back, whimpering. Alive.
Kaye was fifteen years old again: angel, imminent marriage, House business looming, the cellar, indecision and despair.
Why did the angel have to be alive? The whimper might as well have been a chain attached to a puckered red sore, perfectly circular, on the angel’s breast. The iron links dragged through the darkness and clasped Kaye around the neck. She would never be free of this.
Iron conducting Shadow—it was an old bit of mage trivia that sounded familiar, but Kaye couldn’t recall the context of learning it. She didn’t answer Ferro, and damned her father for her ignorance all over again.
“It means I can acquire and employ the more active powers of the Houses, of other mages.” Iron gave him all the powers. “Of course, some are more useful than others.”
“And the other Houses tolerate this?” Kaye couldn’t believe it.
“They do, but then I’m as cautious as you are.” He was twisting that ugly ring. The one that fit the bloody mark on the angel’s body so perfectly.
“Not cautious if you have
that
in your House.” Kaye gestured toward the abused angel.
that
in your House.” Kaye gestured toward the abused angel.
“Risk has value too,” Ferro said, “And when you talk to me in that tone, I can only believe you understand its merits, though perhaps not its shortcomings. I risked everything that first time I took an angel’s light into myself.”
“You ...” Kaye looked from Ferro to the fallen angel and back again.
“I was old anyway, nothing to lose, everything to gain. Angel light worked so well to sustain and renew wraiths, as it should, since wraiths consume souls, and what is angel light, but an undiluted soul? I decided to see if I could take the rejuvenating power into myself as well.”
“Didn’t the light consume your Shadow?” Had to. Angel light and Shadow magic were always at odds.
“No,” Ferro said, smiling, cheerful. “I discovered that the two can coexist most harmoniously if given the opportunity.”
Kaye felt her heart clot with the truth of that—she knew intimately just how well angel and mage came together. And now, once again, how very far apart they were. Bastian.
“Light also makes me persuasive, commanding,” Ferro said, shrugging. “I am never passed over. I use light to master the Houses for our collective good.”
“And you kill angels to do this?” How much of Ferro’s good humor, good looks, good mood belonged to someone else?
Her father had known, Kaye was sure.
“They’ve killed us.” He turned the angel’s face with the toe of his shoe. Another whimper. “And besides, they’re recycled people. They’ve already lived one life. Why should they get a second, or third, or fourth when our first is imperiled ?”
His logic was revolting.
“You’re essentially eating souls, like a wraith.” No, he was doing more than that.
He smiled broadly, opening his hands to accept the noxious idea. “Angel light renews wraith bodies, as it does mine. That’s where I got the idea.”
Kaye had the broad strokes of Bastian’s answers, only to be replaced with questions more bitter than she ever could have imagined, and on a scale that confirmed the desolation revealed in so many of her visions.
“And all the Houses do this?”
Her own dreams were ashes in her heart. She wouldn’t be making Bastian dinner tonight.
“No, but they should,” he answered. “And once you get over your fear of wraiths, you will too.”
Because war was not brewing between magekind and The Order; the war was in full swing—Shadow had struck first. As soon as he knew, Bastian would fight—but he couldn’t get past the wards. The angels would fall on the Houses, as they had in ages past. But this time, Shadow would win. Had to win. The world was covered in it.
Kaye gulped. “Where do you get your ... stock?”
Ferro shrugged. “Here and there. We bait traps. Isolate them. Transport them to where they are needed. An angel lasts many feedings, so their diminishing numbers aren’t as apparent as humans. The Order is being more careful, but we are managing just fine.”
“Until they discover what you’re doing.” And they would; Kaye had been hired to tell Bastian.
But what then? The Order might fight magekind, but they couldn’t win this time. The Houses would eventually rule. That was a simple truth no one could deny.
Therefore, the change had to come from inside. Someone had to change the future. Isn’t that what she counseled her clients?
“We are strong,” Ferro said. “And we’re securing the cooperation of humanity. It’s in humankind’s best interests to side with us.”
“If you have all this in place, why are you so worried about Khan?”
Khan. Maybe he could stop this. If he were seated in Grey’s big chair, maybe he could enact rapid changes. Wasn’t that what Ferro was afraid of? That Khan would take over?
Except Khan hated angels. He had no reason to save them. They were dead already as far as he was concerned.
Kaye shook inside and had to force control upon every muscle.
Ferro laughed and clenched the air with his fist in victory. “Khan can do nothing. Exactly the point I wanted to make by bringing you here. Now is not the time for an inter-House squabble for power. There is enough to go around, even for the pureblood mage. Plus, dissent would give The Order an opening to challenge us. Unite with Grey House. Marry me.”
Oh, please, Shadow, no.
“You have that Council seat you wanted,” he continued. “You took it right out from under Arman Maya. Put your fire behind Grey House, and not even Death can challenge us. Together we can make the future.”
No. Not this way.
“You’re proposing to me in a crypt, with a dying angel at my feet.” Her distaste was real, her belly rolling. But someone had to make the future ... good.
No. When she was fifteen, she’d worked so hard to say that word to her father, to refuse the marriage. No. Ten years and she was still struggling with it.
“An offering,” he said, gesturing to the angel with an amiable smile.
“I prefer jewelry.”
He twisted the iron ring on his finger.
She stepped back quickly. “Not that ring.”
“I’ll buy you a fat diamond,” he promised. And with a gesture, he compelled the Shadows to condense into a bright and glittering ring. An illusion borne out of some other mage’s stolen power. “Just say yes.”
This life is not for you,
the angel Michael had said.
the angel Michael had said.
Ten years ago, she’d refused Grey and her life had burned. She’d run away, a child’s solution. But she was an adult now and angrier than she had ever been before. Layla Mathews was right. This had to stop. The mortal world was the only common ground angel, human, and mage shared.
She had a seat on the Council. And an angel lay dying at her feet. Michael was already dead. Would Bastian be next?
There was but one choice that would honor her House, though Bastian would hate her. She’d promised him
. No more Grey.
. No more Grey.
Bastian was everything.
Run away, then? Leave this angel to die?
No. She said the little word to
herself,
the one person in this equation who could do something right. Perhaps she was feeling Bastian’s influence; Shadow knew no right and wrong.
herself,
the one person in this equation who could do something right. Perhaps she was feeling Bastian’s influence; Shadow knew no right and wrong.
But this time she would make the right choice. She’d returned to magekind. Now she had to go all the way back inside it. And take it apart brick by brick. Rebuild it better.
An ocean of feeling rose within her, threatening to lay her secrets bare. That she hated Grey and loved an angel, and that she’d set the world on fire if she didn’t get what she wanted. Kaye first.
No.
There was no Segue in her future. Never had been. That was a fairy tale, and fairy tales were for children. Kaye understood the opportunism inherent in Shadow. And this was opportunity way beyond the revenge she’d set out for. This was redemption.
“I will marry you,” she said to Ferro, but she was looking down at the angel. She would not run away this time, though she was frigid inside. She would not run. Not when she could do something.
Ferro came up behind her. Put his hands on her shoulders; his touch seemed to sap her strength. “And I’ll give you everything you can dream of.”
Not likely.
Kaye was more interested in the gray cast to the angel’s skin. How much time did she have? Could she heal if Shadow didn’t envelop her so completely?
“This one’s just about dead,” Ferro said. “I’ll have to throw her out soon.”
If Kaye was going to do this, that angel had damn well better live. “I don’t know. If she can moan like that, I bet she’s got more in her. And we have to be careful where The Order is concerned. Get every last drop.” Kaye stooped down, slapped the angel’s face, light but sharp, then spoke into her semi-roused eyes. “You endure, damn it.”
And Kaye would too.
Chapter 9
Jack was on the sidewalk in front of the town house when two long black sedans pulled up. The driver of the first, a wraith, got out and opened the rear door.
Within the vehicle, Jack caught a flash of pale skin, red hair—Kaye was all right. A wave of “Alive” went through the angels stationed nearby, Laurence recalling those who’d been dispatched to search for her.
Jack was relieved—visions of the worst had tormented him through the long night—but the feeling was quickly turning sour with alarm. His whole body buzzed with it.
Kaye took the monster’s hand and allowed it to help her out. Her expression was haughty, hair swept back in a twist. And she wore a dead animal for a coat—not her usual style.
“Jack,” she said, in passing, which staked him through his gut to his spot on the sidewalk. He was
Bastian
to her.
Bastian
to her.
What did she mean?
A small entourage of wraiths and mages followed her inside. “My things are upstairs, in the first room on the right,” she was saying. “If anything is ruined, I’ll be very unhappy. Each pair of shoes must be individually boxed.”
Jack forced himself into the house, as if his limbs didn’t really belong to him. Activity bustled inside, mostly upstairs, but he felt as if time traveled slowly for him, only him. He could almost see the time-lapse ribbons of movement streaking through the space. Each second was measured in pain. He spotted Laurence in the arch to the dining area. His angel light was buried, his expression solemn. Jack wanted to punch it off his face.
Camilla, Grey’s secretary, stood at Kaye’s side, a clipboard in hand, taking direction.
“Ah, yes,” Kaye finally said to Jack, addressing him as if he were one more matter to take care of. Her hands were clasped on front of herself, a block of ice hanging off her ring finger. “I have good news! I am engaged to Ferro Grey.”
She might as well have clubbed him in the chest. Shards of bone blistered his lungs. One more injury he’d never recover from.
“What happened?” Which Jack knew was a stupid question. She couldn’t speak candidly now.
Camilla glanced up at him, then back down at her board.
“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” Part of her act.
“Where were you?” he demanded. This she should be able to answer.
“Grey House, of course. Where I’m moving.” She put on a slightly pained face. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to let you go.”
Go where?
“Ferro has his own security; magic you wouldn’t understand. I have no place for you.”
“What are you talking about?”
The wraiths and mages were taking things to the cars. So fast. So efficient.
Another pained expression twisted her features. “It’s just that Ferro is the jealous sort. He feels strongly where you’re concerned, and we both know he has reason to. It
has
to be this way.”
has
to be this way.”
How dare she use that smooth, sexy voice on me now.
How dare she after ... when we ... when I ...
This is a time to think, not feel
, Laurence said to him telepathically.
, Laurence said to him telepathically.
I love her. I’d do anything for her. I’ve embraced Shadow,
Jack returned
.
Jack returned
.
Think.
His brain didn’t want to.
What could’ve possibly prompted her to accept Grey? She hates Grey.
Think,
Laurence commanded again.
She’s in danger right now.
Laurence commanded again.
She’s in danger right now.
Something very bad must have happened.
Yes.
Very bad to make her accept him. All night long. Did she sleep with him?
Don’t go there.
Jack’s arm burned, his chest burned, and now the rest of him did too. But he used the punch of fury brought on by the thought of Kaye in Ferro’s bed and hauled himself together. Felt the armor snap back in place.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked through clenched teeth. The pain was like nothing he’d ever known.
He watched for one flicker, one silent entreaty, for him to stop this. One bat of her eye and he’d get her away from there. Maybe he would anyway. He could imagine no circumstance in which it would make sense for Kaye to marry Ferrol Grey.
“It has to be this way,” she repeated, harder.
“No, it doesn’t.”
Listen to her. She’s in danger.
And Grey’s not dangerous?
Jack demanded of Laurence.
Jack demanded of Laurence.
“Trust me,” she said, patting his burned arm. “I’m doing the best thing for both of us.”
Jack heard the emphasis on “Trust me.” Saw the directness in her gaze. The conviction that robbed him of further speech. Almost brought him to his knees.
“All ready?” Camilla asked.
“I’m going to do a quick check upstairs,” Kaye said, “and then be back down.”
If you follow her, the mage will too,
Laurence said.
Laurence said.
I know,
Jack answered. But it was damn difficult to wait when he knew she was alone, and so close. When he could shake the answers out of her.
Jack answered. But it was damn difficult to wait when he knew she was alone, and so close. When he could shake the answers out of her.
Kaye returned waving a silk scarf. The one Jack had used to blindfold her during a particularly erotic part of their night together.
“Let’s go,” she said. The mage followed her out the door.
Suddenly the house felt echoingly empty, as if someone had died.
Jack looked out a window while Kaye climbed into one of the cars, watched her pull away.
Then he pelted up the stairs to find the note she’d surely left for him. She’d have left a message that explained this swift, drastic turn of events. She wouldn’t leave him hanging after what they’d shared.
He found it under her pillow, a scrawl written quickly, but it confused as much as it informed:
The Council of Houses meets off Harper’s Ferry
Road near Sharpsburg. Look for a building with a
courtyard. Conflict over news of Khan. Grey feels
the challenge to his power. New wraiths are not
being born. Old ones are being renewed. Will try to
meet you at Lincoln Memorial at noon tomorrow.
Brand has a seat. I’m building my House.
Road near Sharpsburg. Look for a building with a
courtyard. Conflict over news of Khan. Grey feels
the challenge to his power. New wraiths are not
being born. Old ones are being renewed. Will try to
meet you at Lincoln Memorial at noon tomorrow.
Brand has a seat. I’m building my House.
Jack crumpled the note in his hand. His angel’s calm crumpled too.
He didn’t notice Laurence standing in the doorway until he spoke. “She walks a fine line between her loyalties—to report against her kind and work for a place among them.”
It was easier not to speak aloud when overcome by betrayal.
I’d thought she’d chosen.
I’d thought she’d chosen.
“Oh, she’s chosen something. How about you? Will you stand by her to find out what she’s decided?”
“Darling,” Ferro said, entering the large room that had been dedicated to Kaye’s wardrobe. Racks had been set up, and the clothing she’d retrieved today from the town house was hanging on a few. He had no doubt she would fill them all.
“Yes?” Kaye sat at a beautiful desk, concentrating on a laptop. She wore a midnight silk robe. A long, bare leg was visible, and he remembered just how her legs softened at the round of her thighs and ever so slightly at the juncture of paradise.
He held up two ties. “Which is better?”
She flicked up her gaze for a fraction of a second, then lowered it again. “Neither.”
“I was told they were on trend.” A little shiny perhaps.
“For a twentysomething model who plans a trip to the moon, maybe.”
Would Kaye always bite? Penny had been very accommodating. But then she’d been taught to be.
Ferro throttled his irritation. He wouldn’t quash in Kaye the quality he valued most in her. “I look twentysomething,” he pointed out. Kaye knew his physique as intimately as he knew hers. He was perfect.
“But you’re over a hundred. Go classic, not ridiculous.”
Kaye bit her tongue. Damn. No use antagonizing him just because she was angry. And scared. And alone.
Where was Bastian? What was he doing? Just how much did he hate her? Shame and sorrow burned in her breast. It scorched like no flame of Shadow or Earth could. The rest of her was slowly turning into white ash. She was beyond tears, even private, silent ones. The shame would burn until all of her was slowly consumed. Vital organs first please, so her heart wouldn’t ache quite so badly.
But still, she couldn’t think of any other way. And at least with this course of action she had a purpose. There was an Order to her return, a symmetry, and that at least Bastian had to understand. Even if she couldn’t tell him.
She smiled in spite of herself: Bastian had gone crazy, and she was acting with purpose. Now there was symmetry.
She glanced at him again; Ferro was still looking at his ties. “I hadn’t thought of them that way. Ridiculous.” He spoke carefully, which Kaye knew was dangerous.
“I apologize,” Kaye said. She tried to push a spark into a warm smile, but it fizzled on the way to her mouth. “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”
Heavy on the hint. She was tired all the way to her bones. And in her heart. And, strangely, even in Shadow.
She looked back down at her laptop screen, to tell Ferro that she had to work. And she did have a meeting to arrange with a client—it was important to maintain her flow of income, and therefore independence—but it was the business card she’d hidden under her laptop that interested her.
Lakatos.
“I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well.” Ferro sounded genuinely concerned.
“No, I’m sorry. You’ll find that when I’m tired, my temper snaps,” she said.
“You need your strength. I completely understand.”
Did he? And what did she need her strength for? Weird thing to say.
He turned to leave, but then looked back. “By the way, your news about the pureblood yesterday had a curious effect among my houseguests visiting for the Council meetings. Webb packed and left while you and I were enjoying one another’s company. They are now traitors to Grey and Brand; we will recognize them no longer.”
She felt her temper snap again. She’d decide who was a traitor to her House, not Ferro.
“And a couple others asked to stay over a few days to get to know you, which I approved. Remember not to touch Lorelei Blake, the lure—she won’t harm you, but she might like to play with you a bit.”
Kaye shuddered but kept her fire high.
“And if Raiden Terrell approaches you about your father’s debts, remand him to me. Nothing from your past will follow you into our new life. We begin anew.”
“I can pay my own debts,” she said.
He made a funny smile and winked. “I wouldn’t hear of it.” Then continued, “And beware of ‘accidents.’ I can think of at least two remaining here—Gail and Arman—who wouldn’t hesitate to help you down the stairs. And thank you for the advice about the ties. I know I can depend on you.”
He left, taking his trendy ties with him.
Kaye stared at the empty doorway, marveling at how threats and cautions could come out of the same mouth at the same time, and how many ways there were for her to displease him, or to die.
And it seemed to her that the other mages and Houses, like players in a game, moved in tandem with each step of Ferrol’s, for or against him. Grey House was full of traps; the mage who could navigate them the best won everything.
She had better set her own. Lakatos.
She dialed the number on her mobile. The phone was almost dead, but she’d been careful to keep it with her since the Council meeting. She was paranoid Ferro would tamper with it.
The ring warbled in her ear.
The old man, Sigmund, answered. He’d said hello twice before she finished wrestling with a fresh pang of indecision. If she did this, there was no going to Segue, no calling it her House. No Bastian. She’d be taking on dependents, making a vow as serious and binding as her name. If she did this, she’d be once and always Brand.
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