Shadowflame

by Dianne Sylvan

  Finally at about two A.M. Grizzly called a halt to things. She wanted to kiss him.

  “Good job,” he said, shaking her hand when she joined them in the control room. “And thank you for not being a bitchy prima donna. We get a lot of those.”

  She grinned. “Funny—I thought I got a little bitchy there for a while.”

  “Nah. Just wait until we do ‘Bleed.’ That one should be fun.”

  Miranda gave an exaggerated groan. “God have mercy. Have you found a violinist yet?”

  “Actually I was just talking to your friend here, and she says she plays.”

  Miranda looked at Lali. “You do?”

  The Elite smiled. “I do indeed, ma’am.”

  “Congratulations,” Miranda said. “You’re my new favorite person.”

  By the time they were packed up and ready to go, it was twenty till three. Miranda was grateful for the freezing cold air outside; she was sweaty and sleepy and the chill perked her up a little.

  Harlan was already parked out in front of the studio, along with the second Haven car for Lali and Jake. Jake, who had been on front door duty, stowed her guitar in the Town Car’s trunk. While it was open Miranda fetched a bottle of water from the pack that was always there, in a small cooler that typically held an emergency supply of blood as well. She also took a moment to put on her coat and strap her sword in its place on her hip. She’d been reluctant to take the blade inside the studio in case someone noticed it and raised awkward questions.

  “I’ll get you the demo CD for the songs where we need a violin,” Miranda told Lali. “If you’re on board, I’ll pay you whatever the going hourly studio rate is plus a bonus.”

  Lali looked thrilled and was about to reply, but Miranda held up a hand to shush her, lowering her water bottle and staring hard into the night.

  What had she heard?

  She concentrated, extending her senses around the parking lot and the intersection adjacent to the studio, sweeping the area for anomalies as she tried to hear the noise again. Her hearing could catch sounds half a mile away, and if she focused her energy on a particular location, she could pick up conversation at more than twice that distance.

  It came again, this time clear as a bell: a woman screaming.

  Miranda was off and running before either of the guards could react.

  Adrenaline surged through her body, and she let her muscles take over for her brain, carrying her faster than even an Olympic sprinter. The streets were nearly empty at this hour, the sounds of traffic distant in this neighborhood tucked away off Lamar Boulevard. She made it to Lamar in seconds, then across, snaking between cars whose drivers could barely see her as she closed in on a spot that burned in her mind with fear and violence.

  A quarter mile later Miranda skidded to a halt, drawing her sword, her mind and senses both spinning in a circle as they tried to take in the scene before her.

  A woman in a business suit was on the ground, sobbing, the contents of her purse strewn around her. Her hair had been ripped loose from its clip, and her lip was bleeding where she’d been hit. Her clothes were in disarray and she had lost one of her pumps.

  The Queen’s gaze lifted from the woman, and her heart seemed to thud onto the scene as her feet had moments ago, lumbering to a stop in her chest.

  In the watery glare of the streetlight a figure stood over the struggling form of a man. The human, a thirty something white male with eyes huge and rolling in panic, scrabbled uselessly at the sidewalk, trying to escape the black leather boot placed squarely on his neck.

  “Step away from the human,” Miranda commanded, letting her powers flare around her. That alone should have warned the standing figure away, and the sight of a woman holding a sword ought to have at least surprised him.

  He merely looked at her, chin tilted slightly to the left, as if translating her words into a foreign language.

  Staring back at him, Miranda felt a slow quake of unease in her stomach . . . unease and recognition.

  He looked like little more than a teenager, but the shadows in his blue-lavender eyes spoke of great age, of a creature older than she could even imagine now that she, too, was immortal. The way he held himself was regal and proud, as one born to the crown.

  It was something of a contrast with his wardrobe. He wore black leather: a coat down to his knees, pants, and boots nearly as tall as the coat was long, covered in buckles and rivets. Several pounds of silver jewelry adorned his neck, hands, and face; his eyebrow, nose, and ear were all pierced, the eyebrow three times. His fingernails were painted black, and black perfectly outlined his large, long-lashed eyes. Spiky dark hair over a high-cheekboned, ivory face gave him the look of a punk angel, just as likely to be Lucifer as Gabriel.

  He was absolutely beautiful, both ethereal and sensual . . . and so powerful Miranda had to steel herself not to take a step back.

  “I am the Queen of this territory,” she said, pushing iron into her voice and energy into her aura. Her Signet brightened with her words. “You will do as I say.”

  Vampires and humans both had quailed before that tone of her voice. A few had bolted. Several had cried.

  He simply looked at her a moment longer, then lifted one hand and opened one side of his coat.

  The streetlamp caught the gleaming edge of a sword concealed inside, as well as at least three other knives and what might have been a throwing star.

  That, however, wasn’t what sent Miranda’s pulse skyrocketing.

  At his throat, nestled in among the chains and a heavy silver ankh, was an amulet set with a huge emerald.

  The stone was glowing.

  Slowly, deliberately, Miranda lowered her sword.

  Slowly, deliberately, he closed his coat.

  “All right,” she said. “Who the hell are you?”

  Ignoring the question, he smiled. She noticed the pointed canines. “At last . . . the flame of the South.”

  He had a gentle voice that still carried to her easily. Something about it, and about the smile, offered up a realization that she didn’t especially want, and she nodded, the pieces falling into place.

  “My Lord,” she said.

  He bowed slightly. “My Lady.”

  The Prime of California had arrived.

  Six

  “My Lady! Are you all right?”

  Lali came thundering around the corner, ready to fling herself into peril on her Queen’s behalf, and nearly ran smack into Miranda. A few beats behind her, David and Faith appeared, both coming to an abrupt halt on either side of the Queen, both staring at their . . . visitor.

  “Holy crap,” she heard Faith mutter.

  Completely oblivious to the injured woman or the still-struggling man, David broke out into a grin and walked forward, laughing. “Sire,” the Prime said, “it’s good to see you again.”

  “It’s good to be seen.”

  David held out his hand, but the other Prime reached up, pulled David’s head down, and kissed him on the mouth.

  Miranda felt her mouth drop open as David returned the kiss . . . for several seconds.

  When they pulled back, smiling at each other far more intimately than she would have believed possible, the visitor said, “There’s my boy.”

  David turned back to Miranda, who was gaping at the entire tableau and feeling rather like she’d stepped through the Looking Glass. “It’s all right, beloved,” he told her. “Allow me to present Prime Deven O’Donnell of the Western United States and its adjacent territories. Lord Prime, this is Miranda Grey-Solomon, Queen of the Southern United States.”

  Prime and Queen bowed to each other, and then Miranda said, a bit tersely, “Would you care to explain what’s going on here, my Lord Prime?”

  Deven looked down at the human under his foot with open disdain and gestured toward the woman. “An attempted robbery, near as I could tell. I found this thing attempting bodily harm toward the young woman, and I intervened.”

  “Lali, see to the human,” Miran
da ordered. Behind her Lali dove to the woman’s side and began reassuring her, checking her for injuries; the human was bawling, confused and still terrified, but didn’t look badly hurt. “Faith, call it in. Inform APD that we have a mugger in custody, and—”

  She glanced back at Deven in time to see him bring his foot down hard, and with a horrible crack, the assailant’s neck snapped beneath his boot. The man twitched twice and then lay still, eyes still staring.

  “For Christ’s sake, Dev,” David said, wincing. “Was that really necessary?”

  Deven looked down at the corpse, then back up at them, and asked politely, “Oh, I’m sorry . . . did you need that?”

  “This is a no-kill territory.” Miranda stepped forward.

  Deven walked over the body and came up to her; they were almost exactly the same height, but he gave off the aura of someone twice as tall and twice as broad. There was a dare in his voice. “Execute me.”

  Then he moved over to David. “Jonathan is waiting at the car a block east,” he said. “Shall we follow you?”

  David looked a tiny bit bewildered by the way his Queen and the Prime were staring daggers at each other, but he said, “Yes, good idea.”

  Deven gave him a genuine smile, bowed, and walked away.

  Free of the Prime’s presence, Miranda felt her stomach unclench, and she took a deep breath.

  There was a moment of silence before Faith said, “Okay . . . er . . . APD is on its way, with an ambulance for our victim here. Lali has altered her memory to delete us and insert a struggle with the assailant that ended in him breaking his neck as he tried to climb the fire escape nearby. We’re good to go—Lali, stay here until the police arrive and make sure she gets to the hospital, then head back with Jake . . . where’s Jake?”

  Everyone looked around. Jake was nowhere to be seen. “He must have stayed with the car,” Lali said.

  Prime, Queen, and Second started back toward the Bat Cave, and David went ahead a bit so he could call the Haven and get a guest suite ready for the Littlest Magnificent Bastard and his Consort.

  Out of earshot, Miranda said, “So . . . that’s Deven.”

  Faith grinned. “That’s him.”

  “He’s . . . quite a bit to take in.”

  “That is the popular opinion, yes.” Faith looked at her keenly. “What’s wrong?”

  “Besides yet another Prime coming into my town and waving his dick around? Nothing.”

  Faith laughed. “I promise, he’s nothing like Hart. Underneath the swagger is a very kind soul.”

  “Right.”

  The Second raised an eyebrow. “What else?”

  “Nothing, just . . . are they always like that? Him and David?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Miranda made a helpless gesture. “With the . . . kissing.”

  Faith, perplexed, shrugged. “I suppose so. Why?”

  “It’s just strange seeing David acting affectionately toward anyone besides me. Is he like that with all his friends? He just shook hands with Tanaka.”

  Faith’s mouth formed an O of surprise. “You . . . didn’t know?”

  “Know what? Am I missing something?”

  By now they had arrived at the parking lot where Harlan and both cars were waiting; to Miranda’s surprise, Jake was nowhere to be seen. David was talking with Harlan, and as they approached, the Prime came to them, his expression serious.

  “Harlan says Jake took off after you and Lali. I tried to raise him on the coms and there’s nothing.”

  “Oh, shit,” Miranda said. “Faith—”

  “I’m on it,” Faith interrupted, already barking out orders into her com to get a search team to the area immediately. There should be a patrol unit nearby that could be diverted; Jake being off mission was one thing, but not answering his com . . .

  David had just pulled out his phone when it sent up a network alarm. “We’ve lost his signal,” the Prime said. “That’s not good.”

  “You’re not even getting life signs?” Miranda asked, peering around his arm at the tiny map of their current location.

  “No,” David replied. “He just disappeared. Faith, get the team to Lake Street and Paredes. He dropped off network at the eastern corner. It’s about a block that way.” He gestured toward the right. “It looks like he started to follow you but then got distracted. He may have seen or heard something, or been ambushed.”

  He turned to Miranda. “We should head back and let Faith handle this.”

  Miranda agreed reluctantly and joined him in the car. Faith came over to shut the door, ducked her head in, and said, “I’ve got Unit Five coming in to search for him—ETA three minutes. I’m heading to Lake and Paredes now. I’ll com you as soon as I have news.” Her expression briefly switched from all business to all mischief: “Enjoy your ride home.”

  “Do you think he’s okay?” Miranda asked once the door was shut. David merely looked at her, and she shook her head, heart sinking. “I don’t think so either.”

  Neither spoke again until they were on the highway, and Miranda wrestled with the other question on her mind for quite a while before she was ready to say it: “So . . . about Deven.”

  David smiled. “He just likes to make an entrance. The exterior’s a little spiky, but inside he’s really a good friend.”

  “Is that all?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  She took a deep breath. “I mean, were you ever more than friends?”

  David blinked, mouth opening slightly, as though he had expected any question but that one and had no idea how to respond. Then he said hesitantly, “I thought Faith told you.”

  “Told me what?”

  Now he looked actively sheepish. “That Deven and I were lovers.”

  She knew she must look like a stranded fish, but she couldn’t help it. “When?”

  “When I was in California. We both served in Arrabicci’s Elite, as co-Seconds. We got together about ten years before the assassination. Then Deven took the Signet and we stayed together until Jonathan came along.”

  “Ten years?” She put her hand on her forehead, unable to think of anything else to do. “And it never occurred to you to bring it up?”

  “As I said, I thought you knew. I didn’t realize it would be such a problem.”

  “It’s not, it’s . . . God, I don’t know.”

  Now he looked amused, and it annoyed her. “Would it be easier to take if he were a woman?”

  “Honestly, I have no idea. Although since I had no idea you were bi, it does kind of force my perceptions to realign a little, and I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say bi, exactly. If you add up all the people I’ve slept with in three hundred fifty years, men account for less than two percent.”

  “Except that you weren’t with anyone else for a full decade, were you?”

  “Well, no.”

  “So you can see why this throws me just a bit?” Miranda’s thoughts and emotions were falling over themselves, and she didn’t like it. She wasn’t going to be some jealous wife who couldn’t stand being around her husband’s ex when that ex was his best friend; it was a long time ago, and besides, he’d had plenty of women in his time, including a wife. Why was this any different?

  “I understand that you’re upset,” he told her, touching her face. “I wish I’d realized you didn’t know. We could have talked about it before they got here. I’m sorry to have dropped it on you like this.”

  “It’s fine,” she insisted. “I mean, it’s not fine, as in I’m a little freaked-out, but not because . . . I mean . . . it’s just . . . weird. I learn something about you every day, and I love that, but considering how significant this one is, maybe you could have mentioned it at some point?”

  David was thoughtful for a minute, but then he said, “There are a lot of things you still don’t know about my past, beloved. I have about three hundred twenty-five years’ worth of history on you.”

  “I kno
w,” she said. “I think about that a lot.”

  He met her eyes. “Then ask,” he told her gently. “Whatever you want to know, just ask. I don’t ever want you to think I’m keeping secrets. There are some things I don’t like to talk about, true, but if you want to know, you deserve to. We’re going to be with each other a long time, and that means we have to be honest. No hiding.”

  “Thank you.” She leaned over and kissed his nose, smiling a little. “I take it since you never talk about that part of your past, and you’re not together anymore, it’s not an entirely happy story.”

  His eyes flicked away from hers just long enough for her to know she was right.

  “It didn’t end well,” he said. “At least, not for me.”

  “Wait . . . you mean he dumped you?”

  David’s smile was touched with regret, and it made her heart hurt, realizing how much pain was underneath the words as he said, “Unceremoniously and resoundingly.”

  “But . . . why?” Even before the question was out, though, she knew. “Because of Jonathan. That’s why you left California. It wasn’t about getting your doctorate as much as it was about getting away from Deven.”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you in love?”

  Again, the smile, but it faded quickly. “Very much so. But everyone knows that a Prime is destined only to be with his Consort. Everyone in the Court thought that the Signet would choose me, but it didn’t, and within six months, it chose someone else that Deven had known for all of ten minutes. The two of them fell for each other instantly, as if they’d been struck by lightning, and I . . . I ceased to exist.”

  “That little bastard!”

  He made an indefinite move of his head: half a shake, half a nod. “He was as confused by it as I was, I think. I pretended everything was all right between us and that I understood, but of course I was a wreck. Jonathan was the one who realized I was lying, but by the time Deven grasped how badly he’d hurt me, I had fled California, and I never went back.”