Sunset: Pact Arcanum: Book One (11 page)

“Tell me, if you had to do it over again,” she asked, “would you do anything differently?”

“Michelle,” Scott pleaded, “please don’t ask me that.”

“Answer me, Scott! Tell me the truth—for once.”

“No,” he said, his voice breaking. “I would have done everything the same. You were never born to this world. I was. I never had any choice about what I became. You’re my Light. How could I drag you down to join me in the darkness with the monsters?”

“That’s probably the most honest thing you’ve said to me in five years.” Michelle’s expression softened as she stepped forward and took his hands. “I vowed to stay with you for better and for worse, Scott. If this is God’s plan for you, then we’ll walk the road together, you and I. But you have to tell me the truth. No more secrets.”

He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her.

“No more secrets,” he whispered in her ear.

* * *

As Nick watched his dyad brother try to mend his family, he suddenly felt a presence in his mind. It had forged its way between the inner and outer ring of his mental shields, where no one but he could detect it. Resisting the urge to turn, he reached out a tendril of thought to the presence.
“What do you want, Jeremy?”

“Magic requires sacrifice,”
Jeremy said.

“That’s what the angel told Rory when they bargained for the Grace,”
Nick answered silently.
“Did you see his memories I carry when you saw my life in the Faith Ward?”

“No. The Light only showed me you. But I did see you say the words to each other many times. I know what it means.”

“Every bargain has a price.”

“What’s my price, Nick? I damaged their family relationships when I forced them to come forward and expose what they were to save you. They have every right to hate me, and I understand that. But you’re different. You said we owe each other nothing. I gambled with your life, and you still brought me here. What do you want from me?”

Nick felt the tangle of Scott’s regret seeping through the link.
“Why did you tell my family what I said to the Court of Shadows all those years ago?”

Jeremy’s inner voice was unapologetic.
“Because you were afraid to let them see what you were, and Scott wasn’t willing to force you to be honest. I didn’t want you to end up like him, hiding your face out of fear. So I gave you a push in the right direction, to do what you knew you had to do.”

“Scott thought you were just being presumptuous. You made him hate you even more.”

“I know.”
Jeremy shrugged mentally.
“I don’t care about his opinion of me.”

“Then what do you care about? Why do you keep doing these things for my sake?”

Jeremy’s telepathic voice was silent for a moment.
“My parents died when I was seven. I lived in foster homes until I was eighteen, never staying more than a year with any family. I have no real friends. Medusa recruited me because she thought I was an easy mark
—
bitter and vulnerable, looking for a parental figure. She played on my insecurities to give me a false ideal to believe in. She became my whole world. You don’t know how deeply it tore me up inside to see what she really thought of me.”

“Am I your parental figure now?”
Nick’s inner voice was neutral, without judgment.

“No. You’re the only person who has ever looked at me and actually seen someone worth saving.”

“And you’re the only person in a long time who’s had the guts to cut through all of my bullshit and force me to confront the truths I needed to see.”
Nick turned around finally to meet the Sentinel’s eyes, letting his own irises glow red.
“Keep doing that, Jeremy. That’s my price.”

Jeremy’s eyes narrowed.
“You want me to be your conscience?”

“You’re a new voice in an old chorus. I want your insight, and I think I can trust you never to hold back the truth for my sake. Are you up for it?”

Jeremy’s gray eyes stared into Nick’s red ones.
“Yes. If that’s what you want.”

“Then welcome to the team, Sentinel.”
Nick turned back around to face the others, letting his eyes fade back to blue.

“What was that all about?”
Scott asked over the link, turning part of his mind away from comforting his wife as he picked up his son.

Nick gave Scott and Ana the complete memory of the conversation without comment, letting them digest the information.

When Ana raised her inner voice again, it was distinctly amused.
“First Lorcan, and now Jeremy. You really do like to collect strays, don’t you, Nick?”

“Fuck you, Ana,”
Nick said silently, without any particular emphasis.

“Seriously,”
thought Scott,
“he’s still in shock, betrayed by Medusa. He’s traumatized, though he doesn’t fully realize it. Are you going to stick with him while he works through that? Because if not, it would be kinder to cut him loose. He doesn’t need another betrayal.”

“Jeremy will be fine,”
answered Nick brusquely.
“I’ll be here for him if he wants a friend, but I need an outside perspective to measure myself against, and he’s it. I can’t afford to slide into despair again, especially now.”

“We should have done something sooner, Nick. I’m sorry.”

“You couldn’t have helped me, Scott. I have seen too much, and nothing was ever going to get better. It’s all part and parcel of who we are. I needed something drastic to break the cycle, and Jeremy gave it to me.”

“He did,”
agreed Ana.
“But I still think he’s a prick.”

Nick smiled.
“Maybe he is. But he’s mine now, and I’m keeping him.”

“Strays,”
Ana thought again.

Nick stepped forward. “Excuse me,” he said aloud. The others turned to look at him. “It’s late, and we’re all tired.” He addressed Michelle. “If you want to continue this discussion, I’m sure you’d rather do it in private. The three of us maintain apartments in the city, and there’s probably a media circus at your home by now. You might want to consider spending the night here. Maybe in the morning we can all get together and decide what to do next.”

The Sentinels separated to their homes, with Ana agreeing to help Jeremy find the quarters the city’s central AI had assigned to him. Nick teleported directly back to his apartment after they had all left. Grabbing a bottle of Double Voice out of storage, he pulled off his boots and sat in his living room. Reaching out with his mind to the compact stereo on the bookcase nearby, he turned on some quiet jazz from Toby’s latest album and then settled into the slate-blue leather couch, staring morosely at the scale model of the Citadel on the glass coffee table.

He had kept up a stoic front for his family and Scott, but as he relaxed, he let himself feel his doubts and anxiety over what he’d done that day. There was no going back to what he had been before. He looked around his apartment and the memories it contained, knowing that his old life was gone.

Unlike the others, who had their families to take care of, Nick spent more time in his apartment than at his house in North Carolina. He had taken the time to move in properly and make it more like a home, softening the stark white walls with burgundy paint and covering the existing floor with a floating floor of cherry wood. The couch had been a present from his parents when he’d bought his first house back in Los Angeles, and he’d brought it with him to retain a connection to his past.

The walls were hung with photographs of his family and friends and the platinum album that, in a moment of vanity, he couldn’t resist displaying. The mahogany table and chairs were another present from his mother, as well as the matching cabinet that held her wedding china and fine crystal. Honestly, Nick wasn’t sure what to do with it all, but his mother had insisted, assuming he’d eventually get over his phase and get married. After a while, Nick just went along with it, rather than fight anymore.
At least Toby was straight.
Nick thought maybe he’d pass the whole setup to his brother when the younger Jameson finally tired of the perks of fame and stopped being such a ladies’ man.

Nick sighed as he sipped at his bloodwine. From the bedroom, the king-sized bed with Egyptian cotton sheets beckoned invitingly. He knew it was too late for second thoughts. This was his life, for better or for worse, and the apartment was going to be home now; not that he would have much time to spend at home if he understood the Triumvirate’s plans for him correctly. He hadn’t believed Ana at first when the Sentinel had related Takeshi’s words.
Ambassador to Humanity. Christ. What the hell were they thinking? Might as well get drunk and enjoy it, because it might be the last night I’ll have to myself for quite a while.

He was just finishing his first glass of Tiamat when a soft tone resonated through the apartment, announcing a visitor. Sighing, he put down his glass and went to the front door. The door was in the center of the large Impressionist mural Rory had painted for him as a housewarming present. He checked the external monitor to see who it was, then unsealed the warded door and opened it.

Lorcan wore a black sport coat over the green T-shirt and black slacks he had been wearing earlier. “Need a friend, Nicholas?”

Nick silently waved him inside. As soon as Lorcan stepped across the threshold, Nick closed the door and sealed it behind him. Then he slammed Lorcan back against the door, kissing him violently. Lorcan’s left hand reached up around the back of Nick’s neck, drawing Nick’s head to him, while his right fumbled with the buttons of Nick’s shirt. Breaking the kiss, Nick pulled his head back a little, his fangs primed, his red eyes locked on Lorcan’s green. “Ruarc, it’s been a hell of a long day,” he whispered as his hands slid up to ease off Lorcan’s jacket. “All I need now is to feel your arms around me.”

Lorcan grinned. His eyes changing color and his fangs fully extending, he let go of Nick just long enough to let his jacket fall to the ground. “Why, Nicholas,” he said mockingly, “aren’t you a romantic tonight?” Then he grabbed a fistful of the younger vampire’s hair and levered his head back and to the side. Abandoning his attempt to undo the buttons on Nick’s shirt, he shredded the fabric with his claws. His lips brushed Nick’s neck as he breathed in the Daywalker’s scent. Then he bit down, driving his fangs into Nick’s pulsating jugular.

As Lorcan fed, Nick felt the blood magic bridge the psychic gap between them, filling his thoughts with images and memories from his lover’s mind. At the same time, he knew his memories were running through Lorcan’s mind in turn. He shifted in Lorcan’s arms, trying to reach the Nightwalker’s neck, but Lorcan held tightly to his fistful of hair, preventing the Daywalker from feeding. Not until he had lifted his mouth from Nick’s flesh, healing the incisions of his fangs, did Lorcan allow the younger vampire to feed. As he closed his eyes in the ecstasy of the blood magic, Nick’s talons ripped through the cloth of the Nightwalker’s T-shirt, tearing it to pieces in his haste to expose more of his lover’s flesh.

Lorcan pulled Nick tightly to him, lifting the Daywalker off the floor, Nick’s fangs never leaving his neck. With ease of long familiarity, he walked them both to the bedroom and eased them down onto the bed. Nick gasped, feeling the blood magic bridge fade and experiencing the usual sense of loss as the intimacy of the connection evaporated. Swirling, myriad shades of red shifted and rippled over Lorcan’s irises.

“Ruarc,” said Nick, his voice hoarse with need, “I want you so much.” He ran his hands down Lorcan’s naked back as the Nightwalker leaned down to kiss him deeply.

“Then come and get me.”

H
OUSE
D
ILUTHICAL
S
EAL

C
HAPTER 9

The next day

Lorcan woke to the realization he’d slept through the sunrise. He rolled over onto his back, noting Nick’s absence. Lacing his fingers behind his head, he stared at the ceiling. Luckily, the Armistice engineers had carefully considered the needs of the Nightwalker portion of their population. He’d have to take the tunnels to get back to the embassy gateway, which would be embarrassing if he met anyone he knew. He chuckled. He was a superb tactician, having skillfully orchestrated his own meteoric rise through the ranks of his house to second-in-command; only Nick made him so careless. It had been that way from the beginning.

August 2034; Milan, Italy; Five years earlier

Once the sun slipped below the horizon, Lorcan left his morning refuge and walked down the streets of the city to his target. He entered the lobby of the Journeymen’s hotel and immediately felt an interlocking series of mystical defenses slide into place behind him, blocking his way out of the building. At the touch of another mind, he stopped, and opening his mental defenses slightly, he reached out a tendril of thought to the other vampire he could feel on the upper floor.