Shadowbound (39 page)

“As I had suspected, generations ago, one of Jonathan’s female human forbears lay down with an Elf and rose up with a daughter. That particular Elf, Kael, already had one daughter, a full Elf who had fled to Avilon. So while Kael’s half-human child grew up, married, and had children and grandchildren of her own, his fully Elven child grew to maturity and, two hundred years later, gave birth to twins.”

He smiled a little. “Multiple births are practically unheard of among my people. It was said the twins were born under a dark star, for one was born with black hair and the other with dark eyes. The twins were whispered about, and inspired fear, though neither earned it. It did not help that they were among the most powerful ever seen in Avilon. And then there was the prophecy . . . a woman named Lesela, gifted with prophetic talent, saw the death of the dark-eyed Elf. She said that he would first give his heart, and then give his own life, to stop the destruction of three worlds.”

Miranda saw the resignation on his face, and beneath it a deep alienation; despite having a twin, he had been lonely his entire life, living in the shadow of his own potential darkness. She took a deep breath and said what they all already knew. “You’re the scion.”

The Elf nodded. “I can unbind the three of you and then bind Deven to me. Not only can I power the matrix, I can continually adapt it so it will never break again. The two of you will be whole again, and the Circle will be as it was.”

“But . . .” Miranda sat forward, hands clasped. “Deven wouldn’t want that. We’d be forcing it on him.”

Nico gave her a look that actually made her lean back. “You did not trouble yourselves with that before,” he said sharply. “Why now?”

Miranda’s eyes filled, and her face burned with shame. “I was doing what Jonathan wanted,” she said. “There wasn’t time to debate.”

When she raised her eyes again, the Elf’s expression had changed, and he walked over to her and touched her head. “I am sorry,” he said. “My words are undeservedly harsh considering the love behind your actions. Miranda . . . none of this is what any of us wanted. You did what you had to do. Jonathan’s last wish was for you to save Deven. But he is not saved. You put a tourniquet on a gaping wound that I alone can heal.”

The weight of his hand was more comforting than she expected; a faint current of energy seemed to radiate from him naturally, and it helped keep her from losing control of her emotions, though her shields had been trembling off and on since they had come home.

David spoke up sharply. “You’re forgetting one very important little fact in all of this.”

Nico nodded. “I have not forgotten. Believe me, I have thought of little else.”

Miranda caught Nico’s gaze again, and he said, “I am already immortal, like you. But that alone is not enough.”

Realization hit her. “To do this . . . to save us . . . we have to turn you.” She shot David a look of disbelief. “Is that even possible?”

David leaned his head on his hand. “It will have to be.”

“David . . . we
can’t
do it. If one of us sires him, he’ll be Thirdborn like us. We can’t do that to him. I won’t. Not to mention it would be pointless unless we turned Deven, too.”

The thought of the Elf killing humans every month to survive was appalling. It was bad enough imagining what the transition might do to a creature like him—unleashing that kind of darkness, letting it take him . . . if she pictured him with eyes that went black like theirs, she felt physically repulsed by the mere idea.

David felt her growing anguish. He reached for her hand. “It doesn’t have to be like that, beloved. We can drain him, and then feed him someone else’s blood. We’d be the instrument of death, but not his sires.” He looked up at Nico. “But it would have to be someone at Signet level or higher. Otherwise we risk blocking off parts of your power.”

“Shall we call Olivia?” Miranda ventured. “She’s probably the closest.”

“No, she isn’t,” David said. “We have a Signet right here.”

Miranda looked up at the ceiling, running her hands back through her hair. “God . . . so not only are we going to force him to live—we’re going to force him to sire someone. Remind me again why we’re the good guys?”

“Sometimes we can’t be the good guys,” David said. “We just have to be the lesser evil. And you know as well as I do that creating a blood bond will make it less likely that he’ll commit suicide and kill them both.”

She frowned. “But it won’t really be a Signet bond. I mean, you can bind yourself to him, but you can’t
create
a soul-mating. You can’t just turn yourself into a Consort. It would just be an energetic connection . . . right?”

But David said, “It can’t just be an energetic connection. To power the matrix they have to have a deeper bond than that. Is it even possible to force something like that when it’s supposed to be determined by a higher power?”

Nico looked away. “What you speak of—creating a soul-bond and imposing it on someone—is nearly impossible. It is also an egregious violation of natural order and free will. Your actions that night were born out of desperate circumstances, but to do the same thing in a calculated, premeditated way . . . splitting open someone’s soul to fit your own into it violates everything I was ever taught.” He looked back at them. “And it is exactly what I intend to do.”

Eighteen

The autumn sun shone down over the Haven grounds, showing an entirely different kind of landscape from the one that appeared after sunset. Most of the flowers there were night-blooming, but there were still plenty of wildflowers bursting open in the morning light. Dragonflies and butterflies flitted over the gardens, and a few deer picked their way out of the forest and over to an open lawn to graze. Deer would venture into the open during daylight only if they knew beyond doubt it was safe.

Nico walked along the garden paths, touching the plants on either side, listening to the murmur of green growing things. This Hill Country was so different from where he had lived, but it still sang. Just as in California, there was a youth and a wildness to it that he found comforting.

He stopped at a stone bench and sat down, tilting his head back to let the sun warm his face. He tried to memorize that feeling . . . the brightness . . . the intensity of color all around him.

It was the last daylight he would ever see.

He tried not to think about what he was about to do to himself, or to Deven. He tried to simply enjoy the morning, soaking it in.

Footsteps approached, and he lowered his head and looked along the path to where a young woman was walking in his direction. Her eyes were on the ground, an air of confusion and unhappiness around her. He realized, watching her draw near, that she was no vampire.

She was nearly upon him when she noticed anyone was there. She yelped and jumped back, hand going to her chest. “Fuck, I didn’t see you there! Nobody else is ever . . . out here . . .”

He stared at her, and she stared back. “You are human,” he said.

She nodded slowly. “And you’re an Elf.”

He returned the nod. “Nicolanai Araceith, at your service.”

“So you’re everybody’s savior,” she mused. “They’re supposed to fang you up tonight, right? I guess that’s why you’re out here.”

“Everyone’s savior,” Nico repeated, shaking his head. “I wish it were so simple.”

She looked ashamed for saying it. “Sorry. It can’t be easy having so much depend on you.”

He smiled. “Walk with me,” he said, rising. “You are the first human I have ever seen up close, and unless I am gravely mistaken you are the Witch, Stella—I would like to hear your perspective on what has passed here.”

She turned a little pink. “Really? I mean, I’m not . . . you’re like ten times more powerful than I am. I don’t see what good it would do to ask me about it.”

“Oh, surely not ten times,” he teased, offering his arm. “More like five.”

“So what did you say your full name was? Something about a lanai? What does that mean?”

He chuckled. “Our first names are given by our parents, and we choose the second ourselves when we come of age,” he said. “Nicolanai translates to ‘shadow of the forest,’ but with a connotation of the color of shadow among the trees at the moment dusk turns to night. My mother thought it described my eyes.”

“And the second part?”

“
Ceith
is ‘night,’ specifically the dark and silent time around, say, two
A.M.
Ara
is a shortened form of
aranae
, which is both our term for Weaver and our word for ‘spider.’”

Stella froze. “Spider.”

“Yes.”

She shook her head with a humorless laugh. “The Spider, the Weaver . . . of course.”

He observed her surreptitiously as they took the winding path that made its way around and through the extensive Haven grounds. She was exceptionally bright, and though he had no idea what was considered beautiful among human females, he thought she was lovely—very different from the willowy gazelle-like Elven women. If she were to go to Avilon, if everyone stopped fearing her for being human, she would likely have her pick of lovers; to them she would be exotic and mysterious, although
mysterious
was not a word he would use for Stella. She wore her heart out where all could see it, expressed her opinions with conviction. He liked her.

She also had a thirst for magical knowledge and obvious talent; if he survived the next few days he might offer to show her more about Weaving, as Elves had done for Witches hundreds of years ago.

“Just so you know . . .” She grew uncomfortable for a moment, looking off at the Haven. “I think what you’re going to do to Deven is awful. But it’s the right thing to do.”

Nico sighed. “He will hate me for it. And probably the others, too.”

“Probably. But not forever. He won’t be ready to replace Jonathan for a long time, but—”

“I have no intention of replacing him,” Nico said, a little more harshly than he intended. “That is not what this is about. I could not replace him if I tried, and even if I could I would not want to. Even taking the same role, even if Deven’s heart healed, it would never be the same. It is unlikely he will ever love me—especially not now. I am prepared to live with that.”

“But how can you live forever as a soul mate to someone who doesn’t love you?”

“It does not have to be forever,” he said sadly. “It only has to last until the war ends.”

Stella had tears in her eyes as she told him, “None of you deserves all of this. Miranda and David are amazing people. So’s Deven, in spite of what he thinks. And you . . . I don’t know you, but I got to spend time with the magic you’d worked. You can tell a lot about someone from seeing how they create. There was so much love in every thread.”

He smiled at her again, and kissed her hand. “That is what we do,” he said. “We strive to bring the love of our Goddess into everything we make . . . even the awful things.”

She paused. “You know . . . a while back Miranda and I were talking about how you make a vampire, and . . . you’re going to need blood when you wake up. Human blood, the fresher the better. If it’s okay with you I’d like to give you mine.”

They held each other’s eyes. “You do not have to.”

“I know I don’t. I’m the only human here, but if I said no, they’d find another one in town without any problem. But I tried to help with magic, and I couldn’t do much. I’m limited. I can’t do the things you can do. I can’t make all of this better. At least let me do what I can.”

He nodded, then leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I would be honored.”

Stella blushed furiously, but smiled. “Okay, then.”

As they resumed their walk, Nico knew without a doubt that whatever Stella might think of her abilities, her work was far from over . . . and by the time she returned to live in the human world, if she did,
limited
would be the last word she would ever use to describe herself. She would learn how great her own strength was, how much she had to offer.

He could only hope her lessons would not be as painful as his.

 • • • 

The atmosphere in the mistress suite had not changed since David had been there last. It was hard to breathe in a place so saturated with pain . . . but he had to come. He was drawn back there inexorably again and again like a moon in orbit around its planet . . . or like a dog waiting to be kicked.

Depending on how long it took the Elf to recover from the transformation, in a few days the Signet bond would be reworked again and he and Miranda would be a Pair once more. It was definitely for the best . . . but in the back of his mind, in a place so selfish he’d never speak of it to the others, was a part of him that wanted so badly to just fix what they had . . . to keep Deven as part of them, and perhaps someday . . .

He sighed. Not only was it selfish, it was foolish. David wasn’t usually given to such self-indulgence. And yet . . .

And yet here he was again, losing Deven to someone else. He understood it had to be this way, and realistically a Trinity was a bad idea on so many levels, virtually guaranteed to end up hurting Miranda, who mattered far more . . . but just like everything involving Deven, it still made him ache.

“David . . .”

David’s breath caught at the sound of that ragged whisper. “I’m here.”

His voice was thready and sounded so young. “It hurts.”

“I know it does.”

“It’s my fault.” Deven’s eyes opened a little, and they were clouded with both pain and confusion. “You left me . . . Nico left me . . . Jonathan left me . . . I’m the constant in this. I just . . . I’m wrong. I broke it.”

David had to take a deep breath to hold back tears.
Damn it.
“I’m here . . . and Nico’s here . . . and I know wherever he is, Jonathan loves you. He wanted to save you. We all do.”

“It’s too late.” A tear ran down Deven’s face. “I deserve this.”

“No.” David held tighter, just barely keeping the tremor out of his voice. “I won’t give up on you. I won’t.”

Just the faintest of smiles passed over Deven’s lips. “Stubborn bastard.”