Sunset: Pact Arcanum: Book One (32 page)

“That you wanted me?” Nick smiled. “Almost from the beginning.” He pulled a dining chair from the metal table in the corner over to the couch and sat down. “That you loved me? A couple of months, maybe a little longer.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jeremy slumped against the sofa.

“Because I didn’t deserve it.” He looked down and sighed. “You, of all people, know how focused I have been on Scott. How could I be worthy of love when I couldn’t return it?”

“Is that why you did it? You stripped your memories of him to remove your inhibitions?”

Nick hung his head. “I didn’t want to hurt you like I hurt Lorcan. I thought that if I forgot the pain, forgot how you felt about me, then maybe we could make a fresh start.”

“Nicholas,” Jeremy chided. “Didn’t it occur to you I might have loved you just the way you were? Ripping out your soul wouldn’t have made you more attractive in my eyes. It would have just made you empty.”

“If your heart thaws, I will be waiting,” Nick said to himself.

“Someday, I might come for you,” Jeremy answered.

Nick jerked his head upward to meet Jeremy’s gaze. “Did you hear that when you mind-raped Lorcan for Armistice Security, or did you eavesdrop on the double bridge?” he asked, scowling.

“Both. He was a threat. Did you think I would go easy on him just because he loves you as much as I do?”

“No, Jeremy,” he said calmly. “You never cut anyone any slack but me.”

“That was the bargain, Nicholas. You asked me to be your conscience. I never asked you to be mine.”

“No, you didn’t,” agreed Nick. “But I will, if you want me to be.”

Jeremy blinked away tears as the room grew blurry, overwhelmed by an emotion he couldn’t quantify. “Nick … stay here tonight, with me.”

Nick met his gaze with a serious expression. “Is that what you want?”

Jeremy’s eyes widened. “No! I didn’t mean it like that.” He took a deep breath. “Not yet. I would rather wait on that, if it’s all right with you.” He patted the couch next to him. “Why don’t you rest? You’ve been through a lot tonight. Let
me
take care of
you
for a change.”

Rising from the chair, Nick settled next to Jeremy on the couch, then stretched out, laying his head in the Sentinel’s lap.

As he gently caressed Nick’s hair, Jeremy whispered, “Sleep, Nicholas. Let someone else keep the monsters at bay for a little while.”

Nick closed his eyes, relaxed by Jeremy’s fingers stroking the fine blond strands of his hair. Jeremy reached out with his mind and flicked the lights off, then focused his will on the tall pillar candle on the coffee table and channeled his Gift into pyrokinesis so the wick lit with a faint crackle. Quietly, he watched the flame dance while his love slipped into a restless sleep.

December 2040; Baton Rouge, Louisiana; Two hours later

The world faded back into view as Scott completed his teleport home. He draped his tuxedo jacket over the back of the desk chair in the den and quietly made his way into the living room to find his wife asleep on the couch, exhausted after a long day. He watched her sleep, safe and secure, for a few minutes and then turned and entered the dining room.

Nick’s voice echoed in his thoughts, reverberating with agony.
“It hurt so much. Don’t make me remember.”

God, had it only been two hours ago?
Two hours since he opened his eyes for the second time and finally saw the true shape of the world to which he had been completely blind.

Rifling through one of the drawers, Scott found the corkscrew he was looking for and then opened the bottom door of the china cabinet to remove a bottle of white wine. He stood the bottle on the table, next to the corkscrew and one of the wine glasses they kept for guests. He silently stared at the three items, haunted by his own words.
“This is the only chance you will ever have to tell me how you feel.”

Shaking his head, he used the corkscrew to slit the foil covering and then twisted the metal spine deep into the cork, knowing that, had he wanted to, he could have used telekinesis to slide it out more easily. For some reason, it seemed important not to use magic for this task. Deliberately filling the glass half full, he put the bottle down and took a seat in one of the dining chairs, staring at the pale liquid in the glass.

“I will never leave you.”

Scott lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip, frowning at the taste. It was supposed to be cold, he remembered. His weak freezing cantrip immediately frosted both sides of the glass, and Scott took another sip, smiling in satisfaction on finding the taste much more tolerable.

“I will love you forever.”

He downed the entire glass, grimacing at the burning, acidic sensation. Pouring himself another, he cast the chilling spell again. He was just about to down the second glass when a voice—this time from outside his mind—interrupted him.

“Scott, what happened?” Michelle pulled out a chair and sat next to him at the table, waiting.

Finally, he tore his eyes away from the wineglass to meet her gaze. “Must something have happened?” he asked in a monotone. “Maybe I just felt like I needed a drink.”

She brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and stared at him gravely. “Scott, you don’t drink. We only have that wine in the house because our neighbors gave it to us and we couldn’t refuse gracefully. Now tell me what’s wrong.” She carefully examined his rumpled tuxedo shirt and the salt tracks of his tears on his cheeks. “Did someone get hurt?” she asked gently.

Scott stared at the wineglass again and then regretfully pushed it away. “Yes, someone got hurt.”

“Who?”

“Ana. She was attacked,” Scott said wearily.

“Is she going to be all right?”

“Yes.” Scott crossed his arms on the dining table, his eyes idly following the smears of dried blood on his sleeves. “We healed her. She won’t even have any permanent scars.”

Michelle laid her hand on his arm. “Well, that’s something, at least,” she said, still studying her husband’s mood. “Do you know who attacked her?”

Scott nodded without looking up. “Nick.”

Michelle blinked and then stared again at the blood on his shirt. “I don’t understand.”

Without meeting her eyes, Scott told her the entire story, from the moment they returned to the Ottawa Embassy to the point where the Daywalker had taken Jeremy in his arms before teleporting them away to talk in private. He left out the part where he sat in a corner and wept for an hour afterward.

When finished, he turned to look at his wife, and fresh tears gleamed in his bloodshot eyes. “All this time I believed I knew him best, and I never saw it. I touched his thoughts every day for more than five years, and not once did I pick up on his feelings. He’s been in love with me for years, Michelle.
Years.
And I never noticed. He carved up his own mind like he was coring an apple, just to forget that he loved me. Then, when I finally found out, I turned his love into a weapon—after he spent our entire friendship hiding it for my sake. I forced him to relive every minute of pain, every drop of hurt, and I couldn’t do anything for him but sit there and watch it unfold all over again.”

She sighed. “I wondered if he would ever tell you.”

Her words slowly percolated into Scott’s disbelieving mind. “You
knew
.”

She reached for his glass of wine and took a large sip. Then she placed it back down on the table and rubbed Scott’s arm consolingly. “It may not be magic, but a woman knows when someone is lusting after her husband. He knew you well enough to hide it from you, but I was an outsider. I could see it in his eyes—the way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching.

“I was ready to fight him for you, for our family, but he never gave me the opportunity. It took me a long time to realize it was love, not lust, in his eyes. He conceded, Scott. He let you go because he thought you’d be happier with me. He accepted defeat from the beginning rather than ever make you choose between us. Eventually, I understood, and I was grateful.”

Scott swallowed, his mouth dry. He reached out to take her hands in his. “I would have chosen you, Michelle. I could never have loved him back, not the way he wanted me to. Surely you know that.”

“I know. But now that it’s out in the open, there are things that need to be said.” She stood and let go of his hands. “Can you take me to him? I think Nick and I have to talk.”

Scott took a deep breath, and then, seeing her determination, said, “I’ll see if he’s still up.” Closing his eyes, he reached his mind out along the dyad link toward Nick.

“What do you want, Phillips?”
Jeremy’s voice rang loud in his ears, and Scott was stunned to find his way barred by a wall of flames.

Scott stared at the psychic barrier across the link.
“What are you doing, Jeremy?”

“I’m letting him rest while his mind recovers. Come back tomorrow.”

“Can I talk to him?”

The blaze shifted from blistering heat to biting, frigid cold.
“Haven’t you said enough for one night?”

Scott took a mental step backward, away from the glacial tone in Jeremy’s inner voice and the wall of cold fire.
“You asked me to do it, Jeremy. You begged me to save him.”

The psychic temperature plummeted even further.
“Yes, I did, and I know it was necessary. I’m grateful you were strong enough to reach him when I couldn’t.”

Scott was buffeted by the freezing wind of the telepath’s anger.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t hate you for causing him so much pain. Now go away and let him sleep.”

Scott found his mind thrown unceremoniously back into his body. He blinked in surprise and looked up at his wife. “He’s asleep. Can you wait until tomorrow to talk to him?”

She raised an eyebrow at Scott’s tone, equal parts shock and disbelief, then shrugged. “If I have to.”

Standing, Scott wrapped his arms around his wife, still shaken by Jeremy’s barely controlled rage. “I think that would be best.”

* * *

Almost fifteen hundred miles away, Jeremy absentmindedly stroked Nick’s hair, watching as the sleeping Daywalker curled slightly at his touch.
“Don’t be afraid,”
he whispered into Nick’s troubled dreams.
“You’re safe now. They’ll have to kill me before I let anyone hurt you again.”
Nick’s breathing eased, and he relaxed against Jeremy, his subconscious mind reacting to the reassuring aura the telepath was broadcasting.

Jeremy turned his eyes back to the flame atop the pillar candle on the coffee table—the only light in his apartment. “Never again,” he whispered to the shadows surrounding them. “You can’t have him.” He maintained his vigil long after the candle was reduced to a puddle of wax and the flame guttered out.

December 2040; Armistice Security Headquarters, Anchorpoint City, Grand Mesa, Colorado; The next day

“How is Ana doing?” Michelle broke the uncomfortable silence that hung over the outer office.

Nick, sitting opposite the couch she shared with Scott, said, “She’s fine. Rory told me her scars have almost completely faded. Sike is livid, though. He’s barred me from coming anywhere near her outside of work until he’s satisfied I’m not a danger.”

“Yes. I can see how he might feel that way.” She glanced at Jeremy, whose arm was slung protectively around Nick, before turning her attention back to the Daywalker. “I’m happy that you finally found someone of your own. Congratulations.”

Nick eyes narrowed. “I take it you told her.” He frowned at Scott.

“She already knew.”

Nick’s eyes snapped back to Michelle’s. “You knew?”

“For years I thought I would have to defend my family from you, Nicholas. I wondered whether you would try to take him from Peter and me. Eventually, I realized you never would, not if it would hurt him. Thank you for that. I know it must have been a painful decision.”

Nick shook his head. “Magic requires sacrifice. Nothing good ever comes without cost. I knew he would never want me, never love me back the same way. If I had tried to be with him, I would have lost the part of him that he could actually share with me. It wasn’t a difficult decision to make.”

“The fact remains that he knows now. We all do. You showed him the memory of your suffering, and now he understands.” She took a deep breath and squeezed her husband’s hand. “That means I have to understand, too.”

Jeremy stopped glowering at Scott momentarily to stare at her instead. “You don’t have any latent telepathic ability, Michelle. Your mind isn’t designed to receive psychic information, only to broadcast it. Even if Nick were willing to share those memories, there’s no way he could bring you into a psychic link.”

“That’s what Scott told me,” she said. “He also told me a vampire can share memories through blood magic.” She looked pointedly at Nick.

Scott started in his chair. “No,” he said. “Absolutely not.”

Nick shook his head. “You can’t seriously expect me to bite you.”

“It’s not my first choice.” Michelle cleared her throat and gave a nervous bark of laughter. “But I need to see what he saw, and this is the only way I can. There are things I have to show you, too. Things you need to understand.” She held out her wrist. “I demand you do this for me.”

Sensing the depths of her resolve, Nick reached out over the link to Scott.
“She’s not going to back down, is she?”

Scott’s inner voice was resigned.
“She doesn’t back down often. Not when it matters. Do what you think is best.”

Nick stared at her as his eyes shifted to a vivid crimson. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Michelle didn’t flinch. “This is necessary.” She held out her wrist again.

Taking her hand in his, Nick leaned forward and drove his fangs into the pulsing artery beneath her skin, his fingers expertly applying pressure to control the blood flow. The bridge formed immediately as he fed, and Nick shared memories of his friendship with Scott from the beginning, holding back nothing. As he did so, he saw the memories Michelle offered in return: her first meeting with Scott, their blossoming love, the joy she felt in his arms, the hope she saw in his face when he held their baby, his pride at his son’s first steps. Nick drew back, finally, healing the damage to her wrist and releasing her arm.