by Tanith Frost
“Hey,” Imogen says, and struggles out of the heavy winter coat I gave her a few nights ago. “Take this if you’re going somewhere. Doesn’t seem like I’m going to need it tonight.”
I don’t argue. If I’m going to call on Gideon, I’m going to do it well away from prying eyes. That means getting out of here. Miranda may have ordered us to stay put, but I choose to believe that her earlier, personal orders to me supersede those given to the group. I carry the coat under my arm as I make my way slowly around the edge of the big room.
“Going somewhere?”
“Christ, Daniel. Don’t sneak up on me like that.” He follows as I step behind a big metal crate situated next to a side door. “I am. And I have Miranda’s permission. And I can’t tell you where.”
“I thought not.” A frown cuts lines between his dark eyebrows. “I don’t like this.”
“What, you don’t trust me?”
A smile tugs at his lips, but the frown remains. “I do. But I know you well enough to know that you could be putting yourself in danger if you think it’s necessary.”
I rise up on my toes and pull him close so I can kiss his furrowed brow. “No danger at the moment unless Lachlan already knows where we are. And if that’s the case, we’ve all got bigger problems to worry about. Trust me. Trust Miranda to make sure all of these pieces fit together. I’ll be back soon.” I turn away, then back.
There’s never going to be a good time to have this talk. But when I think back on how I feel when Gideon’s around, I understand that it has to be now. I have to be free to offer anything, without guilt or remorse.
“Um, Daniel?”
“Hmm?”
“I might have to make a hard decision tonight. A deal, something that could win this thing for us, but I don’t know what’s going to be asked of me in return.” I take his hands in mine—cold and strong, their long fingers familiar to me as ones that have brought me pain, pleasure, and comfort, sometimes in close succession. “I need to know you’re okay with whatever decision I make even if I can’t tell you about it until this is all over.”
“Of course.”
“And not just this, tonight. I mean…” I take a deep breath. “I guess I need to know where we stand on a lot of things. What us being together means for you and me as individuals. Whatever I decide to do tonight, or another night—”
“Will be your decision.” He swallows hard and looks down at our hands. “I don’t own you. I said once that I wanted to—that I’d like to lock you away, keep you safe and all to myself. And I think I told you more recently that I’d changed my mind.”
“Yeah.”
He smiles sadly. “The truth is that a small, very selfish part of me still wants that.” He looks up to meet my eyes. “But I’ve seen what you can do—what you can become—when you’re free. I love you, Aviva. I thought, once, that it was because of who you were then, and I wanted to keep that version of you for myself. But I see now how dangerous that would be. I don’t want you then, or now. I want you always.”
“Daniel, I—” I take a deep breath. “If you want me to be faithful to you… romantically…”
“That’s not what I’m saying at all.” He raises my fingers to his lips and kisses them. “We’re near-immortal creatures. Stagnation would be death for us. If our love is to mean anything, it has to be freely chosen in each moment. Not a promise given once in a fit of passion and then upheld like a law or a burden, but something that changes and grows as we do. I don’t want Will Daniel be okay with this? to be a factor in your decisions.” One eyebrow quirks upward. “Romantic, strategic, or otherwise. I want to work with you. Train with you. Make a home with you.”
“Among other things?”
His eyes sparkle. “Many others, I assure you. But we should have that because we want it, not because we’ve decided we own each other. You have your path. I have mine. I want to see where yours takes you.”
“Likewise.” My chest feels tight and heavy, yet somehow I also feel as if I’m flying.
He brushes my hair back from my face. “I’d be lying if I said I might not feel jealous at times. I like to be in control of my life and everything in it, and this isn’t easy for me.”
I bite my lower lip and smile. “I’d never have guessed.”
Daniel takes a deep breath. “But I don’t think it would really be love if I asked you to be anyone but yourself—or if the thought of watching you spread your wings and soar didn’t thrill me.”
He leans in to touch his forehead to mine, and I close my eyes. “So we have our own paths,” I whisper. “And we choose to follow them back to each other. Can that really work?”
When I open my eyes again, his are smiling. “We can try. And I can’t imagine a greater adventure.” He pulls me into a knee-weakening kiss, long and deep, then stands straighter again. “Go do your part to save our asses. I’ll do mine.”
Before I can change my mind, I hurry out the door into a covered walkway where the ocean breeze cuts through to my bones even after I put Imogen’s coat on. My head is full of swirling thoughts. I’ve asked for freedom, but it occurs to me now how hard it will be to offer Daniel the same. Change brings uncertainty, and freedom requires trust that—
I stop short as Clark steps in front of me at the end of the walkway.
“Going somewhere?” he asks in a far more suspicious tone than Daniel used a few minutes ago.
“I have permission to be out here,” I tell him. “I’m going on business for Miranda.”
“Really? She didn’t mention it to me.”
He’s blocking my only exit. “I don’t want a fight, Clark. I know you’re just doing your job, but I have to get this done so Miranda can get on with making her plans.”
“Back inside. We’ll discuss this with her.”
“No.” I wanted to be well away from this place before I did this, but he’s leaving me no choice. “Gideon,” I whisper.
Clark takes a step forward, then stops. Not frozen as I’d expected, and the wind still blows past him. He looks confused. Then his features contort with pain as he falls to his knees.
“Clark?” I ask, hurrying toward him. “What’s going on?”
He hits the ground, rolling onto his back, eyes showing nothing but the whites.
25
I’m about to call for help when Gideon steps into the light, dressed tonight in a black coat with a fur-trimmed hood, black pants, and thick woollen mittens. He nudges Clark with his toe.
“What did you do?” I’m half-whispering, half-shouting. “He’s one of us!”
“Could’ve fooled me. Don’t worry. I’ll set him to rights when we leave.” He glances over his shoulder. “This place feels like Hell frozen over. Shall we go someplace warmer?”
“I guess, but—”
Before I can finish my answer, everything vanishes in a flash of white light.
My vision returns slowly enough that I notice other things first—the scent of oranges, cloves, and pine; the warmth that suddenly envelops me; the crackling of a fire.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, and blink hard.
This place he’s brought me to is nothing short of spectacular, though not in the gilt-trimmed fashion of Tempest’s underground fortress. This place sparkles, but it’s from the glass and mirrored surfaces reflecting the low fire burning in a stone fireplace, its arched opening large enough that I could walk into it if I wanted. The room is huge, but cozy. Layers of soft, beautifully faded rugs in blues and purples with touches of yellow cover the floor. Clustered near the fire, plush chairs and low sofas upholstered in soft fabrics are strewn with cushions—green, gold, patterned and plain. To my left, there’s a bed—big, with rounded corners, piled with blankets and pillows, halfway-hidden behind dark, gauzy curtains that seem to hang suspended in the air. To my right, I find bookcases covered in mismatched editions of hundreds of books, plus scrolls and stacks of loose paper tied with black ribbon. Dark corners of the space are lit by oil lamps and candl
es that drip wax over silver candlesticks.
If there’s a roof above us, it’s too high for me to see. Shimmering pinpricks of light dot the darkness, but it’s impossible to say whether they’re bright candle flames or the stars themselves.
The colours and light should be overwhelming, even gaudy, and I get the feeling that the smallest change—a bit more light in this corner, a brighter green silk covering that chaise, a more properly matched set of blankets and bedsheets—would throw the entire thing off. As it is, it’s the most inviting space I’ve ever visited. It draws me in, urges me to look, to touch, to smell, to experience.
I glance down, worried that my boots are leaving puddles on the carpet, but my boots are gone. So are my clothes, replaced by silk pyjamas in the deep blue of the night sky. Menswear-style, but cut to graze my curves.
“I can change that if you’d like,” Gideon says as he seats himself on the green sofa near the fire and reaches for the silver teapot set on the low table in the middle of the seating area. “I thought you might like to be comfortable while we talk.”
He’s dressed similarly to me, though in soft white, and wearing a long, open robe instead of the buttoned shirt he’s given me. If the white was meant to remind me of the angelic side of his nature, the body visible beneath completely nullifies his efforts. There’s nothing holy or sacred about the heat that flows through me as I remember him kissing me, and for a moment, I wish I thought he’d agree to another sort of payment for his services.
I could feel guilty about feeling this so close on the heels of the moment I just shared with Daniel. I won’t, though. This is who I am. It’s how I respond to beauty and power and the promise of connection with them. And it doesn’t mean I want Daniel less. It’s not about us. It’s about me.
Still, I turn my eyes away from Gideon and examine the room more closely. No windows. No doors that I can see.
“Interesting place for a meeting,” I say as I sit next to him but with what seems like a formal and businesslike amount of space between us.
Gideon pours steaming tea into two cups made from paper-thin porcelain. The scent of spices intensifies. “We could go back and head down to the harbour to freeze ourselves while we talk if you’d like.”
“No, this is good. Thank you.” I accept one of the cups and cradle it in my hands.
Gideon’s finely shaped lips tug upward at one corner as he holds his up. “To mutually beneficial relationships.”
I raise mine in return and take a sip. The tea is perfect, almost hot enough to scald, releasing a balanced blend of sweetness and spice onto my tongue. “Incredible. Hiding out in mortal forms must have been torture for you if you can conjure something like this otherwise.”
He sips and sets his cup down, then leans back against the cushions. “Even if it had been safe to do so, I couldn’t have managed this at the time. Now that my power has been restored, I’m enjoying it to the fullest.”
“Thanks to your bet?”
“I do know how to pick a winner. Or a loser, in some cases.”
I smile. Strange that it seems funny now. It might not later when I’m back to fighting for survival and suffering in the cold, but in this moment, it feels as if all of that was the dream.
“You called me for a reason,” he says. “Are you ready to make a deal?”
I pull my feet up onto the couch and tuck them under me, turning to face him. “I don’t know. I think I need your help if you’re willing to offer it. But you mentioned a high price, one I might not want to pay. I need details. And I need to know exactly what you’re willing to do for me. You told me a lot of what you can’t do. Now tell me how you can help.”
He raises an eyebrow. “As I’ve said before, the idea—the specific request—has to come from you. I’m not your coach or your manager. Tell me what you want, and I’ll tell you whether it’s something I’m willing to do for you. Then we’ll discuss payment.”
“Very well,” I say, ignoring the way his eyes danced when he mentioned payment. My fire burns hotter, and I ignore the sick feeling that twists through me at the idea that it might be the price he asks. “You know where we stand. We’ve lost the city and are vastly outnumbered. I had planned to use other powers to weaken the enemy...”
“But you’ve lost the werewolves. Where do I come in?”
“I want a different kind of weapon. One Lachlan can’t prepare for or defend against like he could against fire, or even magic. I want to use light against him.” I narrow my eyes at Gideon. “Just so we’re clear—you’re not working for Lachlan, right?”
He laughs. “No. And look how easily and honestly I can answer that. I’m free as a bird and powerful enough that I could resist and destroy any who would dare try to chain me.”
“Unless you lose it all again on another bet?”
He shrugs. “Eternity would be dull without a little danger. But I plan to enjoy this for quite a while.”
“So you could do it?” I ask. “Fight with us? If the light could be directed at our enemies—”
Gideon holds up one hand. “It’s not a weapon. The light is like any other power. It exists in varying concentrations. It can be called or resisted. It may become anchored in physical locations or beings. It affects creatures, living and dead, in many different ways. For you, it’s dangerous. For humans it can be comfort, strength, and peace. It’s part of me, as the void is.”
“Exactly. You hide it when I’m around, but I’ve felt it when you lost control. If you released it…”
He frowns. “Its range would be limited. You were only in danger because you were close to me. Besides, it’s no good asking me to do that.”
“Because…?”
He leans forward. “Because of the rules, Aviva. Effects need a cause. And if too many of those causes come from powers beyond the mortal plane… well, it throws things out of balance.”
“And you do like balance,” I sigh. According to him, balance is the reason vampires exist at all. “But what about the things you claim to have done for me? Grace’s visit to the graveyard, the car, the evidence that cleared me?”
He grins, revealing his fangs. I don’t know why he’s kept them, but I like that he has. “All within bounds. Your dear little sister was planning that trip to the graveyard earlier in the evening, so I arranged for some delays. I told you that I made a suggestion to the car’s driver about leaving it running while she paid for gas. She could have resisted, but—”
“But you’re good at temptation, I get it.”
“That I am.” His slow, flirtatious smile warms me in places the fire’s heat can’t reach. “As for the evidence, I obtained samples of Elizabeth’s handwriting, called on someone who owed me a few favours, and had her create a journal for me. I did plant it myself. That was risky, but as no one saw me or questioned it, it was no worse than me doing Viktor’s bidding and hiding his contract for him.”
I let him pour more tea as I relax back into the cushions. This drink doesn’t have the same restorative effect as Imogen’s coffee, and it takes me a few seconds to figure out why I feel so good. I’m resting, healing, being restored by my own powers, but I’m not being drained by it now as I normally would be. I’m still hungry, still craving blood, but I’m free to recover without it taking a toll on me.
Shame I can’t stay longer or just sit and enjoy this.
Back to business.
“So you can’t use your light directly.”
“Right.”
“But that doesn’t leave us without resources.” I rise and stretch—I think better on my feet. The rug is ridiculously soft and sends pleasant shivers up my legs and back as I dig my toes in. “There are places we can find light occurring naturally, so to speak. Churches, their properties, their graveyards.”
“True,” Gideon says, giving me a curious look. “I can think of a few obvious flaws in that idea.”
I’m not even looking at him now, just pacing, letting the room’s warmth and colours flow around me as
I focus on my thoughts. “I know. It will hurt Maelstrom’s vampires as surely as Tempest’s. I think we can get around that with some magical help, though. Odette won’t consent to doing anything permanent, but maybe talismans or something… or Imogen could curse the light’s effects—”
Gideon snorts. “I wouldn’t recommend trying to curse the light. Not when she’s connected to it as a human and is susceptible to ill-effects.”
I glance back at him over my shoulder. “You have been paying attention.”
He shrugs. “It’s in my best interests to know everything before entering negotiations.”
“So Odette’s protections, then,” I say, hoping he hasn’t noticed my discomfort at the thought of negotiating payment. “If that could work…”
“Then you could all hide out quite effectively in a church basement, and your enemies wouldn’t dare approach.” Gideon looks as if he’s trying not to laugh, but there’s something dark and eager in his eyes. “I’m sure the ladies’ guild would appreciate having extra hands around to help with bridal showers and lobster-dinner fundraisers, but it’s not exactly a weapon.”
I sit on the edge of the table, facing him, and lean in close. “That’s where you come in. I need to know whether you can do two things for me.”
He leans forward, too, leaving little space between us. “I could do a number of things for you. And to you.”
“I’m sure. But here’s what I want.” I won’t let him distract me. “I’ve stepped onto church property. I know the effects of the light don’t really hurt until I’m in the building, but I can feel it outside. If you can’t use yours, can you amplify what’s there? Make it stronger all over so that we only have to draw the enemy onto the property to hurt them?”
He rubs his chin as he thinks it over. “That’s not something I could do without direct orders from higher up. Even if they didn’t consciously understand it, the light would affect humans who visited the property—I can’t interfere directly in that. It’s all tied up in free will, you see. And they’re such fragile creatures, so easily overwhelmed and confused... No, if the light is to be amplified, it has to come from humans, not to them. And good luck with that.”