Night Veil

by Galenorn, Yasmine

The store turned out to be an art shop, and the package I was to pick up was a framed print. The cashier motioned for me to have a seat at one of the desks.

  “I’ll just get your print and you can approve or disapprove the framing job. One moment, please.” She disappeared into the back.

  Nervous now—what if I approved something that was fucked up? Geoffrey would be furious, and Leo would be in trouble.

  Just go through with it. There is something important here for you to learn, though I don’t know what it is. The energy on the slipstream is crackling around this shop.

  I nodded, sliding into the chair to which the woman had gestured. As I waited, I glanced around the shop. The walls were filled with frames—all sorts from inexpensive plastic to what looked like ornate gold-leaf embossed etched frames. There was a huge table next to the cash register with a variety of measuring tools on it and what looked like several projects in the middle of completion.

  After a moment, the woman returned with a bag. She withdrew a painting that was about ten by ten inches, not including the frame, and placed it in front of me.

  “I hope you and your employer will like this. It was a joy to work with the Regent, and we’re grateful that he trusted our shop to get the job done.” She paused, staring at the painting, then at me. “You were wearing a lovely costume.”

  “What?” I took the painting and stared at it. Sure enough, there I was—or rather . . . someone who looked a lot like me, in a gossamer gown. And next to the woman stood Geoffrey, wearing what looked like a costume from long ago. His arms were around the woman’s waist, embracing her, and they were both laughing. I could see his fangs and—holy crap! I recognized the woman now. She was fuller, not so thin, and not quite so . . . stretched . . . but it was definitely her. Myst—but without the cerulean cast to her skin.

  The more I looked at the painting, the more I realized that it had to have been painted before Myst had been turned. Or rather . . . I touched the canvas lightly. This was a print. A picture of a painting. The original was probably in a vault somewhere.

  “Thank you,” I murmured. “Is there a balance due?”

  She shook her head. “We charged your account. Or rather, the Regent’s account. Please, if there’s any problem, don’t hesitate to let us know.”

  I took the receipt, slid the painting back into the wrapper, then slowly returned to Favonis. After I slid into the front seat, I took another look at the print. Sure enough, that had to be Myst—before she was turned. She might have been Unseelie at that point, but she looked far more human . . . far more humane . . . than she did now. And the way Geoffrey was holding her waist . . . almost like a lover.

  A thought occurred to me and I tried to brush it away, but it kept coming back. What if Geoffrey had tried to turn her with her permission? What if he hadn’t captured the Unseelie, but the rumor had gotten started that he had? What if they’d been lovers and she’d agreed to let him turn her, but something had gone horribly wrong?

  As I started up the car, I gave one last glance to the print before tucking it back into the sack. Myst and I looked alike, all right. And Geoffrey had offered to sire me. I wasn’t sure what was up, but whatever it was, I had an uneasy feeling about it.

  None of the other errands revealed anything more worth noting, other than the fact that Geoffrey’s servants or stable apparently liked chocolate mint—I ended up picking up five pounds of chocolate mints at one store. When I was finished, I thought about dropping in at the diner and giving Anadey a scare, but the fleeting chuckle I got was immediately replaced by a sense of sadness and anger. We needed her, and she had turned her back on us. On me.

  I spotted a drive-through a few blocks away and pulled in. Since I wasn’t sure if their French fry fryer was dedicated or whether they fried fish fillets in it, I just ordered a strawberry shake and a cookie. As I scarfed down my sugar fix, I thought about what Geoffrey would say tonight when I delivered the picture. Was it safe to mention what I’d noticed? It began to occur to me that I might have made a serious mistake—Leo would have been the one picking it up and Leo had never . . . wait a minute.

  Leo had seen Myst. He knew what she looked like, and Geoffrey had to be aware of it. Which meant, if Leo picked up the picture, he’d have to have dropped it off. And surely he’d recognize Myst in it and know that . . .

  Shit. I slammed my shake into the cup holder. Leo constantly defended Geoffrey. And that alone meant he knew more than he let on. I wondered if Geoffrey confided in him, but that seemed out of character. Then again, Leo had worked for the vampire for quite some time. Chances were Geoffrey forgot he was in the room during some conversations. Yummanii and magic-born were a lot like furniture to the vampires.

  Glancing at the print again, I pressed my lips together. There was something I wasn’t getting—parts I couldn’t put together. The equation didn’t add up, and I was afraid that by the time I fully understood, it would be too late.

  I finished off the shake and, unable to figure out anything more than I had, pulled out of the lot and headed home. Now I just had to decide whether to confront Leo or lie low. But I was sure as hell going to show Kaylin the print—and Peyton. My cousin was still in love with Leo. And I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

  At least I didn’t have to worry about Leo insisting on going out—he was out cold, a jolt of Heather’s cold medicine down his throat. Kaylin and Peyton weren’t around, so I helped Luna clean the kitchen and made sure she was doing okay before heading upstairs to change for Geoffrey’s.

  “How is Leo doing?” I asked, peeking in on him. Rhiannon was just gathering up a bowl and a washcloth. She motioned me out of the room.

  “He’s got a horrible sore throat, but I don’t think it’s strep. I got his fever down to a manageable level, and now he needs sleep. A lot of sleep. He won’t be getting out of bed for a few days, though. Can you tell Geoffrey tonight . . .” She paused, staring at me. “What happened?”

  “Nothing. Or . . . well . . . I don’t know yet. I need some time to figure it out.”

  “So many secrets lately. Anadey and Peyton’s father and now this . . .” Rhia shook her head. “I am half-sick of shadows . . .”

  “. . . Said the Lady of Shalott.” I smiled softly. When we were teens and I visited, we’d read poetry to each other and that had been one of our favorites.

  “We haven’t done anything fun like that in years.” She gazed at me, her doe eyes softening. “I missed you so much while you were gone. I hated Krystal for taking you away. Then, when you phoned to tell us she’d died, I secretly dreamed you’d come back. I fantasized about it—daydreamed that you would come back and marry Grieve, and I’d marry Cha—I’d marry someone . . . and we’d settle down and raise babies and be the two old witches of the village when we grew old.”

  “Chatter? You started to say Chatter.” I cocked my head. “Rhia . . . please, promise me you won’t settle. That you won’t tie yourself to someone you aren’t sure about.”

  She bit her lip, staring at the floor. “I know . . . I know . . . but what is love? Love brings pain and sorrow. Isn’t it better to marry someone you consider a good friend rather than getting your heart broken?”

  I pulled her close, kissing her cheek. “Oh, Rhiannon . . . whether they’re friends or lovers or both, we’ll always have broken hearts. When they reject us, if they love us and then leave . . . if we live with them a hundred years loving them, and then they die—our hearts are bound to break. Why cut yourself off from the wonderful part just to avoid the sad?”

  She shivered. “What if . . . what if I throw away something good to find I’m chasing an illusion? What if I discover that I’ve built something up in my mind? Can I hurt him, because I just maybe think I might be in love with someone else?”

  “You’re walking on a tightrope. Please promise you’ll talk to Chatter? Find out how he feels before you say anything to Leo?”

  She glanced at the closed door behind us. “That fee
ls so wrong. Like I’m going behind his back.”

  I bit my lip, not sure what to say. “Just promise me you’ll think long and hard before you actually get married. Breaking an engagement is a lot easier than five years down the line when you’re filing for divorce.”

  Rhiannon let out a low sigh. “Yeah, I know. I’ll think about it.” She shrugged. “Come on, let’s get you dolled up.”

  As we entered my bedroom and I closed the door, Rhiannon sat cross-legged on the floor next to the bed, resting her elbows on her knees. She played with the hem of my blanket as I slipped out of my clothes and into my bathrobe.

  “I’ll be back in a few—I just need a quick rinse off.” I headed into the shower and, dropping my bathrobe, called out to Rhiannon. “Can you find me something nice to wear? I’m not sure what, but it’s not a party, as far as I know, although he said formal dress.”

  When I finished soaping up and rinsing off, I climbed out of the shower to find her holding up a gorgeous cobalt blue sleeveless dress. Low cut, it was made of a simple jersey, with gathered shoulders and a woven black belt. I stared at it, struck by its beauty. The color was rich—so rich it was hard to look at.

  “Where did you find that? I know full well I don’t own anything like that.”

  She grinned. “I raided Heather’s back closet. This never fit her—it was too short and too . . . well . . . a couple sizes too big. But it looks like it’s made for you. I think she bought it for you on your last trip home, but you didn’t stay long enough for her to give it to you. Not after you and Grieve . . .”

  “After we broke up.” I’d taken off, wanting nothing more than to get out of New Forest, to forget the look of pain on his face when I’d told him I wasn’t ready to come home. Now I’d give anything to go back to that moment in time, to take it back. But then again, would I? Would I give up being who I’d become?

  I shook off the thought. “Let me try it on.” I dried off and fastened my underwire bra, then slipped the dress over my head. It clung in all the right places and was just the right color for my skin and hair. As I gazed into the mirror and saw the beaming smile of Rhia behind me, a crack in my mood started to fracture. I tried to repress it, but within minutes, like a glacier calving, the façade fell away and I sank to my knees, in tears.

  Rhia was by my side instantly. “Cicely, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  I shook my head, weeping into my hands. “I want to tell you things, I want to so bad, but I’m afraid to because of Leo. Because I don’t know where your loyalties lie. I want to talk to you, but I can’t . . . I can’t trust anybody but myself—and I feel so alone. I’m walking into a vampire’s lair tonight and I don’t trust him. But I have to go, and I have to go alone.”

  “I’ll go if you like—I’ll be there with you.”

  “No, Geoffrey told me to come alone. Oh, Rhia . . .” I turned to her, grasping her hands. “I know Leo trusts him. I know Leo works for him, but Geoffrey’s not the fair, just leader we think. I know. Trust me, I know. And I’m afraid that he’s using me for something . . . something that could lead to everybody’s destruction.”

  “What are you talking about? I promise you—I give you my word to keep it silent, upon our mothers and our grandmothers. On the Veil House itself . . .” She held up her hand to swear.

  I quickly grabbed her fingers. “Before you do that, you should know—I saw the Veil House from the astral. This land is almost a living being. Its energy is brilliant, a beacon in the night. We live on top of Grand Central Station—we’re the blue-light special at Kmart. If you swear on the house, the land will hear and hold you to it. Don’t say anything rashly.”

  She nodded, serious now, and pulled her hand away. After a moment, she held it up again. “I swear to you on the memory of our mothers, on our legacy with this land and this house, on flame and fire, on the Veil House itself, I will not betray your confidence. You are my cousin and we are in this together. Neither love nor men nor circumstance will sway me from my oath. You have my back, Cicely. And I have yours.”

  A pale light, orange and flickering, formed around her hand. I stared at it, feeling a pull I’d never felt before. I held up my hand opposite hers.

  “I swear to you on the memory of our mothers, on our legacy with this land and this house, on wind and air, on the Veil House itself, I will not betray your confidence. You are my cousin, and we are in this together. Neither love nor men nor circumstance will sway me from my oath. You have my back, Rhiannon. And I have yours.”

  From my hand spun a whirlwind, tiny and gray; it began to increase, as did her flame, and the two met in the air, producing a firestorm of sparks, but none that stung as they landed on our skin. We brought our hands together, clasping them. The energy spiraled around us and as we held tight, we were dancing through a vortex, through a spiraling tunnel that wended with flame and cloud.

  And then, we were aloft, spinning in a dance through the stars, while the pounding beat of drums in the night surrounded us.

  “We are powerful together,” I whispered. “We can move mountains.”

  “We can take down armies. We combine our powers and we are the sun and the moon.”

  “The night and the day. The summer and winter.” I let my head drop back and laughed wildly as we began to spin faster, and then I was standing outside myself, watching as we spiraled even higher. I glanced to one side and saw Rhiannon’s spirit there, too, watching, laughing joyfully. And then, before our spirits could journey too far from our bodies, we were back in the room, dancing, laughing, stomping on the floor until we collapsed in a pile in the center of the room.

  After a few moments, I looked up, surprised no one had come to find out what the fuck we were doing. Rhiannon looked just as confused.

  “I guess . . . we were hearing everything on an internal level?”

  “Could be,” I said. After a few minutes I sat back and stared at her. “Okay, you want to know what’s going on? Lainule and the rest of them be damned. I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell anyone at this point.”

  “I promise. What the hell happened with Anadey?”

  I slowly started, and then the words spilled out and I told her, told her everything. About Anadey drugging me and tying me down and trying to strip away my feelings for Grieve. About Wrath being my father, and the plan to find out who Anadey was working with. About the picture with Myst—who looked like me—and Geoffrey. By the time I finished telling her about what Kaylin and I had witnessed, she was staring slack-jawed, shaking her head.

  “I can’t even begin to put it all together, but, Cicely, I’m afraid. You know too much. You’re walking into a lion’s den. And somehow, I don’t think Lannan is the lion in this cage.”

  I nodded. “You think Geoffrey was behind Anadey’s actions?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t like you going out there by yourself.”

  “I can’t take anybody—the vamps would be pissed and the last thing we want to do is stomp on any vampire egos. Lannan . . . he tried to warn me in that e-mail and if I hadn’t seen what Kaylin took me to see, or the print . . . I wouldn’t have believed him. I’d have thought it was yet another trick to get me into his clutches. But now, I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t trust him too much, Cicely. He’s not one of the good guys.”

  “I don’t. I know he still wants me and will do what it takes to get hold of me. But now—alliances are running deep and hidden, and I’m realizing there’s a lot more to this than what’s on the surface.” I stood and straightened the dress. “This is really pretty. I wish . . . I wish I could have thanked Heather for it.”

  “I wish so, too,” Rhia said. “I miss her so much. I hate that she’s out there, a spawn of the Indigo Court. I hate that they transformed her. She was so wonderful and now, now she’s Myst’s confidant.”

  “That’s another thing,” I said. “Myst has to be fuming. Wrath and Lainule managed to capture Grieve. Myst will be on the hunt for her chosen one. And she’
s going to blame me for his disappearance. You have to keep watch—the wards may not hold out against an all-out assault. And you can bet that tonight, Myst will realize Grieve is gone, and she may send her people.”

  I braided my hair back in a French braid, slipped on some simple gold hoops and a pair of black pumps, and whisked on a quick, five-minute face for evening. Standing back, I observed myself in the mirror.

  “You look elegant.” Rhiannon hunted through the closet and pulled out a simple black velvet cape. “Here, this will make the outfit.” She stood back as I slid my arms through the slits and fastened it by the single button in front. “There, see—you look incredible.”

  The cape transformed the outfit. I paused long enough to slide the moonstone pendant over my head. “I wish I were going to visit Wrath and Lainule instead of Geoffrey.”

  “I know. I wish we could go with you. I wish you didn’t have to face them alone.” She opened the door and handed me my purse. “Call us if you need us. We’ll be there . . . in fact, I’ll ask Kaylin and Peyton to drive out and park nearby. They can hide in the car and wait in case you need them.”

  “Normally I’d say no, because the Shadow Hunters will be out tonight in full force, but I think I’d feel better if you did that. Tell them to be cautious, though, and keep a low profile. Don’t hang out on the streets. Take weapons.”

  I wish I could go, my dear Cicely . . . watch how much you reveal. Sometimes silence brings life and to speak is to die.

  Ulean couldn’t attend me—but I had learned the secret why. The Elementals could sense the vampires but not the other way around. Until now, we thought the vamps just didn’t like them. I thought about asking her to go with me now that we knew the truth, but the chance that someone there might be able to sense her—perhaps one of the bloodwhores—and rat us out was too great. I didn’t dare tick off Geoffrey.

  I sucked in a deep breath and swallowed my fear. “I have survived worse fears before. When you’re six, facing the streets with a junkie mother tends to leave you immune to lesser threats.”