Shadow's End

by Thea Harrison

  Slanting his lips over hers, he pierced her over and over with his tongue, fucking her mouth, while he gripped the back of her neck and held her in place.

  A whimper escaped her. It was such a needy, sexual sound, it sent a thrill of shock through her.

  It didn’t sound like her at all. She was usually so careful and considered. Her first instinct was to reach for diplomacy, to speak the quiet path and measure every action she took.

  This sounded like a husky, impetuous stranger driven wild by her feelings, like someone who might do anything to be with the person she needed—including lying. Cheating. Killing. Her body caught fire.

  In that moment, she forgot everything else. The bargain, the danger. Graydon could have done anything to her, and she would have welcomed it.

  She needed him to do everything to her.

  He growled softly. It wasn’t a nice, safe sound, full of affection or play. He sounded feral and dangerous. He sounded like she felt.

  The beat of her pulse filled with urgent need. The rhythm became the entire world. She existed in the rushing flow of life in her veins.

  Then he went taut, his massive body clenched in protest even as he dragged his mouth away from hers. His pulse hammered too, fast and hard, while his breathing had turned harsh and ragged.

  She moaned, “You’re going to kill me.”

  She hadn’t meant anything by it, but for some reason, he reacted poorly. He recoiled. Then, closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead against hers.

  He whispered, “Not if I have anything to say about it, I won’t.”

  She stared at him in perplexity. What an odd thing to say. She wanted to tell him, no, of course not. That wasn’t what I meant.

  But before she could say anything, he gave her one more brief, swift kiss. He told her, I’ll see you outside in an hour or less.

  Yes.

  His arms fell away. She had a moment to mourn the loss, and for the first time, she felt the cold December wind. He turned, jumped onto the railing and leaped into the air. Just as he had on the beach, he shapeshifted into the gryphon and then disappeared in the next moment.

  Staring after him, she sighed in equal parts pleasure and frustration. Then she turned to go back inside. Part of her wanted to worry at Graydon’s odd reaction, like a dog with a bone, but that would have to wait until later.

  For now, she needed to change into sturdy walking clothes, summon Linwe and get out of the house.

  • • •

  Graydon exploded into the night sky with the kind of fury that came out of desperate longing.

  Leaving her.

  He was always leaving her.

  That fact had been all but unendurable from the very beginning. Now it tore at him like harpy’s claws. The memory of her soft mouth moving under his, her slender body aligning against him, the small, sexy sound that had come out of her. His soul felt lacerated, his skin raw.

  He needed to stay with her, but he shouldn’t. He needed to protect her from what came next, but he couldn’t. People were going to die, and it was always possible that one of them would be Ferion.

  Or her.

  Everything inside of him rebelled at the thought.

  Not bloody likely. Not if he had anything to say about it.

  This time, when his vision came, it slipped into him with the stealth of an assassin. White snow. Black rocks. The red of heart’s blood.

  Ah, at long last, the vision felt close, very close.

  He felt a fierce kind of satisfaction that he wouldn’t have been able to explain to any other person. One way or another, he was going to get this fucker off his fucking back.

  As soon as he had cleared the Elven residence, he flew a few more blocks then landed and shapeshifted again. Digging out his phone, he texted Claudia and Luis, Julian, and Constantine to meet in ninety minutes at the suite in the hotel. Claudia and Luis could contact Rune and Carling.

  Then, unable to wait passively, he changed back to the gryphon. Flying back to the Elven residence, he circled it, watching everything. He felt obsessed, like some lunatic stalker, but he couldn’t stop himself.

  The Elven residence was a three-story detached brownstone mansion in the fashionable Flatiron District. Despite the lateness of the hour, lights shone in several different parts of the house. In the back, the walled garden lay mostly in shadow, with a few security lights shining along the walls.

  As he circled, he watched the balcony doors and windows that led to Bel’s suite. Lights shone there too, until suddenly they went dark. His adrenaline spiked. At last, she was on the move.

  Swinging around to pass over the front of the mansion, he kept his flight pattern tight and small, until he saw the front door open.

  Bel and Linwe slipped outside. They walked down the street, Bel’s dark head close to Linwe’s bright pink one.

  Graydon felt the impulse to follow them, but he stayed on task, watching the mansion.

  A few moments after they had left, another Elf slipped out the front door. For a moment, the front porch lights illuminated the Elf’s face.

  It was a male, the same guard that had pulled his weapon along with Ferion earlier in Bel’s room. After the Elf checked both directions, he started down the street after Linwe and Bel.

  As he left the mansion, he became harder to detect. He had started to cloak himself.

  The Elf had one major disadvantage. He wasn’t nearly as good at cloaking as Graydon was at stalking.

  Coasting silently around forty yards in the air above the Elf, Graydon watched him for a few blocks until he was quite sure. The male was, indeed, following the two women.

  His predatory instincts roused.

  It would be so easy to kill him. All the gryphon would have to do was plummet down. His paws flexed as he considered. His long claws would pierce the guard’s body before the Elf had a chance to draw breath and scream. He could carry the body away to dispose of somewhere else.

  The decision shook through his taut body, but one thought held him back. He didn’t know if the guard was Ferion’s and innocent, or Malphas’s spy.

  Even then, the guard could be innocent, and simply suffering from the same kind of coercion as Malphas’s many other victims.

  At the last thought, sanity intervened. He pulled himself up and shot ahead to the women. Swooping down, he glided over their heads.

  You’re being followed, he said in Bel’s head. Two blocks back.

  She tilted her head back. He caught a glimpse of her face before his trajectory took him past the women. Pulling up, he swept around and glided over them again.

  Gray? Bel said. I’ve explained things—partially—to Linwe. There’s a taxi rank up ahead, in front of a block of restaurants. Linwe will take a taxi to Times Square, find an all-night restaurant and wait to hear from me. Can you pick me up?

  Absolutely, he told her.

  As they turned a corner, they walked out of sight of their stalker. Graydon plummeted. He landed beside Bel and let his own cloaking spell fall away.

  At the same moment, she said to Linwe, “Run.”

  Giving him one spooked glance, Linwe darted toward the nearby restaurants and taxis. He noted in satisfaction that she was a fast sprinter. Despite the snow and ice, she flew surefooted down the sidewalk.

  As Linwe raced away, Bel leaped onto his back.

  At long last, the space between his shoulders, that spot which had been empty for so long, felt complete again.

  Hold on, he said.

  Cloaking himself again, he launched and drove into the air as high and fast as he could. Wheeling, he flew back the way they had come.

  Below, on the street, the Elven guard raced around the corner. After looking around, he sprinted toward the restaurants and the taxi rank.

  “Linwe got away!” Bel said. “Even if he gets a taxi too, a
ll they need is a head start of a few moments, and she’ll lose him.”

  Good enough, the gryphon growled. Feel free to praise me for not killing the guard. He felt rather than heard the soft laugh that rippled through her body. She stroked the back of the gryphon’s neck. “You did such an excellent job,” she told him. “Thank you for restraining yourself.”

  It was not easy, he told her, even as the pleasure of her touch rippled down his body. I’m feeling particularly growly and predatory right now.

  “With good reason,” she said. The smile had died from her voice.

  Everything will be okay, he told her.

  He willed that he was right, with every ounce of strength he had inside him. He would make sure that it was okay.

  If he was only strong enough, fast enough, smart enough.

  If he could hold the course, find the right actions to take, he knew they could win through, despite what the vision warned.

  He would make it happen. He would.

  In short order, they reached the hotel. After landing and shapeshifting, he put his hand to Bel’s back and walked with her through the revolving door.

  He could tell she was working her subtle magic, deflecting others from noticing them, because despite their fast pace, and despite the fact that Graydon was well known in New York and Bel’s face was internationally famous, no one turned to look at them or remarked on their presence.

  They made it through the lobby without fuss, and took the elevator up to the suite. As he knocked on the door, she stood beside him, to all appearances looking calm and composed, but he noticed how she twisted her hands together until the knuckles showed white.

  He covered her hands with one of his and squeezed. Her large, dark gaze lifted to his, and she gave him a grateful smile.

  This time, Luis answered the door. The younger Wyr nodded a greeting to Graydon, while his gaze lingered on Bel.

  Almost imperceptibly, Luis’s expression lightened, and despite the fact that the younger Wyr had mated with another woman, and the fact that Bel was not Graydon’s, he felt a possessive snarl build at the back of his throat and an almost uncontrollable urge to get violent.

  The impulse knocked him back into himself. He was getting perilously close to mating behavior again. He had to find some way to throttle back emotionally, but the only way he knew to do that was to have a complete cutoff from her—and after enduring the last two hundred years, he didn’t know if he could make himself do it again.

  As Luis stood back from the door, Graydon let Bel enter first. When he stepped inside, the younger Wyr murmured, “You okay?”

  He shot Luis a glance. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Luis was so perceptive. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Bel lingered and glanced over her shoulder at them. Smoothly, Luis switched to telepathy. Does she know how you feel?

  He sounded concerned. Graydon shook his head at the younger man.

  It’s complicated, he said shortly. And how I feel is not the focal point right now.

  Understood. Luis said aloud, “The living room is pretty crowded, but this was the best place we could think of to maintain privacy.”

  Graydon followed Bel down the short hallway. The younger Wyr hadn’t exaggerated. Counting Luis, nine other people awaited them. A couple of opened bottles of wine sat on the coffee table, along with Diet Cokes, and several glasses.

  Graydon took a quick sweep of the room. Claudia sat in a yoga position, cross-legged on the floor, her spine straight and posture relaxed. She looked like she could maintain the position all night if needed. Luis joined her, sprawling on the floor beside her.

  Carling and Rune occupied one comfortable armchair. Rune lounged in the chair, while Carling perched on one arm and draped her shapely torso along the back, curling around his shoulders like a cat.

  Slightly disconnected from the others, Constantine stood by the window. He leaned against the wall in a casual pose, arms crossed and one ankle kicked over the other. His posture was relaxed, but his sharp, curious gaze took in everything.

  Julian sat at one end of the large couch, while Melly sat on the floor at his feet and leaned against his legs.

  There was another couple present, which came as a surprise to Graydon. Bel responded to a flurry of greetings as Graydon frowned at the new, unexpected pair. A human woman sat at the other end of the couch. She was young, with pretty features and strawberry blond hair.

  Graydon recognized her easily. She was Grace Andreas, the most recent in a long line of Oracles that led back to ancient Greece. Standing beside her, arms crossed, stood a tall, imperious-looking Djinn male with raven hair, white skin and diamondlike eyes.

  He was Grace’s lover Khalil, a second-generation Djinn. Graydon’s mind clicked through a mental Rolodex, until he had placed the Djinn’s connections. The most important one stood out. Khalil’s father was Soren, the head of the Elder tribunal.

  Rune had followed the direction of his gaze and said telepathically, You do know they work for us too, right?

  I know, Graydon said. He didn’t like any surprises at this late point in the game. I just wasn’t expecting them.

  Trust me, Rune told him. Khalil has valuable experience to bring to the discussion. And both Khalil and Grace are every bit as reliable as Claudia and Luis.

  Graydon relaxed slightly. He had known Rune for as long as he had known any of the other sentinels. Rune had been Dragos’s First sentinel for centuries, before he met and mated with Carling. Graydon did trust the other gryphon—with his life, if necessary.

  With several people’s lives, if it came to that.

  Claudia nudged Luis, who rose to step into the kitchenette. Returning, he carried two dining chairs, which he placed opposite the couch. Murmuring a thanks, Bel sat.

  Choosing to stand, Graydon reached for one of the Diet Cokes and popped the tab. He had a feeling the caffeine would come in handy.

  “I guess that’s everybody,” he said. “Thanks for coming.”

  By the window, Constantine stirred. “Now that we’re all here, why don’t you tell us what the hell is going on?”

  Graydon took a deep pull from his Diet Coke before he answered. “Some of you already know, or at least, I’m pretty sure you must suspect,” he said. “We’re here to discuss how to kill a Djinn.”

  The atmosphere in the room shifted, as if everyone had drawn in a collective breath.

  “No shit?” said Constantine. The other sentinel coughed out a laugh. “Now things have gotten really fucking interesting.”

  FOURTEEN

  Khalil spoke. His voice was deep and pure, like a bell. “I want to be clear from the beginning about Grace’s and my involvement. We might attend this discussion, but I will not take part in a war against another Djinn again. Small children rely on me. Grace relies on me.”

  Grace turned to look up at Khalil, and the expression of love on her face turned her into a luminous beauty. Khalil rested a large hand on her slim, tanned shoulder.

  Out of the corner of Graydon’s eye, he noticed Constantine turning thoughtful. While Khalil held his Power in tight control, it was still evident in the nearly invisible shimmer surrounding his physical form that he held a great deal of it. If Khalil wouldn’t participate in any action against Malphas, it underscored just how dangerous an undertaking killing the Djinn was going to be.

  “Khalil brings up a good point,” Graydon said, as he met the gaze of each person in the room. “Just because you’re here right now in this room doesn’t mean you’ve committed to doing anything—and going against this particular Djinn will be hard. He’s a first-generation pariah.” He paused a moment to let that sink in. “We have a lot of information to share. If anybody needs to see documentation, we’ve got it. Just remember, this is only a discussion, okay?”

  “Let’s hear what you’ve got,” Julian said. He looked sharp
and totally engaged. At his feet, Melly nodded to herself. Shifting, she reached up and back, and laced the fingers of one hand with his.

  Graydon didn’t have to overhear any telepathic conversation they may have had. Her body language said it all—whatever Julian might choose to do, she would support him.

  Graydon started talking. He used the kind of format that sentinels used in meetings.

  Subject: Malphas, first generation pariah Djinn.

  Issue: Trafficking and enslavement. Collusion, fraud. Suspected murder. Documented crimes against the Elder Races, along with crimes against humanity.

  Danger level: Extreme.

  After he had summarized, the silence in the room was so deep, he could hear each individual’s breathing. Then came the questions, and almost everybody had several.

  With a nod to Luis and Claudia, Graydon gave the floor over to them, and instead of leading the conversation, he became an observer.

  Khalil’s expression remained so studiously impassive, Graydon suspected he was cloaking strong emotion. The Djinn’s hand never left Grace’s shoulder. She had shifted so that she could lean against his hip.

  Julian, Melly and Constantine had the most questions, while Rune asked a few and interspersed the conversation with his own observations.

  Of the group, Carling and Bel remained silent. The quality of Carling’s stillness was entirely different from Khalil’s. She was like a river rock that had been worn smooth over time.

  Bel’s attentiveness showed subtle engagement. The skin around her eyes tightened at some of the information, and her lips compressed, a quiet sign of inner turmoil.

  He wanted to reach out and touch her, like so many of the couples who were present did with each other. Instead, he adopted a pose much like Constantine’s, leaning against a wall with arms crossed.

  While he maintained a physical distance, he couldn’t stop himself from watching her profile. He felt like he could never get enough of simply looking at her and feeling a sense of her presence.