“So be it.” His eyes smiled as he lowered his head, and he said against her lips, “You are mine, Irena.”
That they belonged to each other was far too obvious. And so her only response was to open her mouth for his kiss.
Three hours later and four thousand miles south, Irena sat beside Alejandro at another table, trying to remember that strangling a man was not the rational way to win an argument. Sensible, perhaps, but she didn’t think she could declare a real victory.
She’d accompanied him on his assignment to determine whether a drug lord who had rapidly been gaining power in Colombia was a demon—and if so, to slay him. On the flight from a Gate outside Caracas, she’d told Alejandro about her conversation with Michael, and Khavi’s predication that a dragon would escape Chaos. She’d watched his expression tighten when she showed him the images Michael had projected into her mind, of the demons riding the dragon as it torched the Earth.
After that, she’d been looking forward to killing a demon—more than she usually did. But the drug lord and everyone else at his jungle compound had been human. Upon seeing her disappointment, Alejandro hadn’t hidden his amusement, and asked whether she’d have killed the man if he’d been a vampire.
She’d answered with an unequivocal yes. Alejandro disagreed, stating that his decision to slay even a vampire drug lord would depend upon the circumstances, and the consequences of power changing hands in the region. She’d given him a look. He’d laughed and winged his way toward electric lights that clustered at the edge of the jungle. The village seemed half-tourist destination and half-trading post, with Mission-style hotels, thrown-together shops, and a marketplace set up with stalls that had only begun to close for the night.
At the north end of the village, an open restaurant had drawn her in with the music of a steel drum and a guitar, and the rich scent of grilling meat.
The kitchen was housed in a long shack that consisted of a stove, a worktable, and a bar, surrounded by three reed-thin walls supporting a tin roof, with a circle cut out for the stove-pipe. The open-fronted kitchen overlooked a patio that was nothing more than a cleared rectangle of swept dirt, its dimensions marked off by discarded tires. A string of flickering electric lights connected the broad-leafed trees that, during the day, would provide shade for the patrons. Most of the tables were filled—primarily by the hotel clients, Irena guessed by their new clothes, pale and sunburned skin, and the variety of languages they spoke. Her longstockings and brief shirt had raised a few brows among both tourists and locals, but they were quickly forgotten when Alejandro chose a table in the corner farthest from the kitchen to continue their argument.
With a surface made of rough-hewn planks cobbled together to form a circle and held up by toothpick-narrow legs, the small table didn’t seem sturdy enough to rest her elbows on, let alone the platter heaped with chorizo and fried steak, rice soaked in coconut milk, sweet corn bread, avocado and fried bananas—flanked by two bottles of tequila—but Irena did her best to lighten its burden. Over the next hour, she fed herself and Alejandro, offering him bites from her fingers, and while his mouth was occupied, used the opportunity to tell him all the ways he was wrong.
And while she steadily sipped her way through the tequila, relishing the fiery slide from her tongue to her stomach, Alejandro held her hand, kissed her fingertips, her wrist, trying to weaken her by adding seduction to his arguments.
She appreciated his technique very much. So much that she decided not to strangle him.
The night wore on. Her senses were intoxicated—by the burn of peppers and alcohol, the quiet heat of their argument, the lazy strum of the guitar, the lush fragrance of the jungle. By Olek, the darkness of his eyes and the music of his voice. By his liquid grace that made him appear at once completely relaxed and yet poised to strike, though seated in a spindly chair with uneven legs and a rigid back. She wanted to crawl into his lap, tell him to run his lips beneath her jaw, to feel the soft brush of his goatee over her skin.
The argument waned, and they both let it. Claiming that Irena’s earlier mention of Khavi’s Gift reminded him of an essay he’d read during the two centuries she’d been gone, Alejandro produced a pamphlet from his cache. A red ribbon marked the page he wanted; he’d written her name in the margin. He read to her in Arabic drawn long by his accent, and she sat listening with her heart full to the point of pain.
Four hundred years.
She could not be sorry for all of it. She’d needed time after the demon had almost shredded her into nothing. Olek had needed time to regain his pride. But a single vow, a word to each other would have brought them back together long before this. A single vow, and she’d have known he’d fight for her; he’d have known she’d intended to return to him.
Olek stopped midsentence, looking at her over the top of the page.
His face had softened and blurred, and she spoke through the ache in her throat. “We are both fools, Olek.”
He reached for her hands, pulled her to him. “I will not argue that.”
CHAPTER 21
The novices all wore red tennis shoes.
Irena smiled as she watched them swoop gently to the ground, their wings spread wide to slow their descent, their landing almost soundless. For the past fifteen minutes, Guardians had begun gathering on the eastern shore of Caelum, where the city’s marble edge seamlessly met the smooth blue plane of the waveless and silent sea. Overhead, the cerulean vault of the sky stretched cloudlessly to an infinite horizon.
Irena stood where she had a view of the Guardians coming in by air and on foot. Laid out before her, flat marble pavers extended to the curving edge of the city and created a long, crescent-shaped terrace, a hundred feet deep at the center. Behind her, its walls forming the crescent’s interior arc, a round tower jutted into the sky, crenellated at its crown like the battlement of a castle. Dru’s quarters comprised the upper levels of the tower, a location she’d chosen because her rooms overlooked the sea, and so Irena felt no surprise that the healer had requested her body be laid to rest beneath the waters. Some Guardians chose Caelum; others, Earth. Irena had no preference for hers, but she knew the ceremony would be important for anyone she left behind. She’d chosen the tundra, and a pyre. A big pyre. Alejandro had probably chosen a ceme—
Her heart gave a painful jump. She couldn’t finish the thought. She glanced over at him, standing quietly beside her wearing his customary black. She looked away again, quickly, and for a moment the small crowd of Guardians swam in front of her vision.
No. She could not even contemplate it.
She shifted closer to him, until she felt the heat of his hand against hers. Glancing up again, she saw the query in his dark gaze.
She might as well set it in stone now. “I will go first.”
He looked out over the sea, his jaw white. “No.”
“Do not argue.”
“Do not pretend you can determine which of us will—” He shook his head, sharply. “No. I will be first.”
“I will drag you down from the laps of the angels Above and kill you for leaving.”
“You threaten me?” He narrowed his eyes, and humor came into their depths. “We will never agree on this, Irena. Admit defeat.”
She sneered. “I will eat spiders in Hell first.”
“Then you might as well surrender now. Even a woman of your deep hungers could not chew beyond the second leg.”
She looked away before her laughter burst out. Two dozen Guardians quickly glanced in other directions. Most were smiling—or trying to suppress one. Good. Much better than quietly running as far out of the line of her and Alejandro’s fire as possible. And now they would all know why he stood at her side instead of watching her from a distance, as he had at every other gathering.
Wearing a gauzy dress the same color as the sea, Selah teleported in to the center of the terrace, bringing Drifter with her. The tall Guardian looked around, spotted Irena and Alejandro. He touched Selah’s arm, and they telep
orted again, reappearing next to Irena.
Irena’s stomach rolled into a hard stone. Selah’s greeting was as sunny as usual and Drifter offered a smile, but his demeanor struck her as too casual. And although his posture was long and easy, she read his tension in the barely-perceptible twitch of muscle at the side of his neck.
“What is it?”
He blinked, as if it’d taken him by surprise, then glanced out over the terrace. He shook his head, and turned his back to the terrace so that his body blocked the movement of his hands. It can wait. Selah and I decided not to cast a shadow over—
I’ll be wondering now, anyway, Irena interrupted.
“As will I,” Alejandro said.
Drifter sighed. He exchanged a look with Selah, who nodded.
All right, he signed. About twenty minutes ago, Jake came to get Charlie, and take her to where Castleford and Lilith are looking over Savi for the day.
Irena frowned. Drifter’s vampire partner and Jake had developed a relationship that reminded Irena of siblings, and he was almost as protective of her as Drifter was. But Charlie lived in Seattle—and because she didn’t have the same taint in her blood as Ames-Beaumont and Savi, wasn’t a target in the same way that they were. And Drifter often left her alone in her daysleep, with just a protection spell around her room. Why had Jake thought that wouldn’t be sufficient today?
I did the same for Lucas, Selah said. Which might be an overreaction, I know, and maybe I’ll have him back in Ashland before the sun goes down—but I want to make certain that he knows what has happened as soon as he wakes up. Not worrying, and waiting for a call.
Irena closed her eyes. She didn’t need to see what they’d sign next. She knew. Anaria had made her portal to Chaos, and the Guardians would be going in to stop her.
They might not all return.
Alejandro’s palm flattened against her lower back, warm and supportive. She opened her eyes.
Drifter was signing, Ames-Beaumont is still in the mirrored room, giving Michael an account of what Anaria and her nephilim are doing. They’ll be here shortly. I figure once the gathering is over, Ames-Beaumont will be opening his portal, and we’ll be heading through.
Irena nodded. Fear coated the back of her throat, but she would do what had to be done.
Alice and Jake arrived by air rather than teleporting. Irena guessed that Jake must have retrieved Alice from the Archives or her quarters, and told her about Anaria on their way here. Alice’s narrow face seemed pinched, but she made a visible effort to clear her expression as they landed. They looked at each other for a moment, then parted. Jake walked to where the novices waited; Alice searched out Irena, and moved toward her with an inhumanly graceful stride instead of her disjointed one.
Irena almost laughed. Like Drifter, Alice must have decided to wait until after the gathering to speak about Anaria—and in the meantime, she made an effort not to creep everyone out. Alice probably did not care that the unexpectedness of her gliding step drew almost as many looks as her spidery movements did.
She slipped between Drifter and Irena, and linked her bony elbow with Irena’s. Her long skirt brushed Irena’s leggings.
“You have heard?” Alice murmured.
Irena nodded.
Alice’s pale blue gaze remained on Jake, who’d reached the novices—and who, until only a few months ago, had been one of them. After the Ascension, Pim and Jake’s friendship had formed the heart of that close-knit group. The dynamics had changed since Jake had been promoted, but Irena saw their friendship had not. Pim looked up at him. The brave face she’d been wearing suddenly collapsed. Jake hugged her to him, and the young healer sobbed against his chest. Becca wrapped her arms around them both.
Irena swallowed hard. “You have been a fool now and then, Alice. But you chose well with that one.”
“Yes.”
“I reckon the kid’s the one who got lucky,” Drifter said.
Irena gave him a look that put color into his cheeks. Selah laughed and bumped him with her hip.
“How obvious you are, Ethan,” Alice teased him. Her gaze rested on Irena’s face for a second, before moving beyond her to Alejandro. When she looked ahead again, a slight smile curved her mouth.
Irena smiled, too, and looked out over the terrace, to the horizon. In all her years, she’d had many friends, but she’d never had this before. Olek, silent and strong on her left, his hand a comforting pressure on her back. Her closest friend stood on her right, and next to her, two Guardians that she’d been proud to train and to serve with, and whose opinions she valued as much as Olek’s, as Michael’s. They gathered with her, and she’d never before felt how much she had. And what was missing.
Her gaze fell to the novice’s red shoes. “Dru had a reason for wearing those shoes.”
As if the name were magic, the conversations around the terrace quieted. Beside her, Alice drew up a little straighter, her lips trembling before they firmed.
“Tell us,” Alejandro said.
It was a signal to start. Michael wasn’t yet here, but many things, Irena had learned, began in their own time. As difficult as it was to say each word, she also could not hold them back.
“I’d never trained a novice slower than Dru,” Irena said.
“Nothing I said made her move faster. She couldn’t land a punch or a kick. I would chop off pieces of her, and instead of moving out of the way, she would just pick them back up and put them back on. She’d tell me she hated rushing around for no reason.”
Michael arrived, teleporting into the north end of the terrace. Ames-Beaumont was with him, his eyes haunted, his beautiful face tired. The vampire paused, as if uncertain where he should stand. Selah beckoned to him.
Khavi teleported in behind Michael, wearing a simple white shift. The Doyen met Irena’s gaze, and nodded for her to continue.
Irena wiped at her eyes. “I told her not to be stupid, of course, because if she was slow she’d just end up dead. At our next practice, she arrived with those red tennis shoes on. And she told me—” She began shaking with laughter, and for a second couldn’t speak. “She told me that not only would they make her faster, but so fast that the only way her opponent would see her coming was by looking for the streak of bright red. And I was laughing so hard . . . I didn’t see her coming. With one kick, she crushed four of my ribs and my right arm, then followed through with a roundhouse that broke my cheekbone, my jaw, knocked out half my teeth and popped my right eye out of its socket.”
Stunned silence fell, which made Alejandro’s soft laughter seem loud. Shaking his head, Michael broke into a grin. A muffled snicker came from somewhere to her left. Within seconds, it was difficult to separate those who laughed from those who wept.
“In sixteen hundred years, no novice has ever gotten the drop on me like that. But Dru wasn’t done.” She choked on another laugh, wiped her eyes again, drew a breath. “She put her foot on the back of my neck, and held me down while she healed each bone and each tooth, one by one. She took about a half an hour; my eye had almost healed on its own by then. And she told me she was just teaching me the difference between slow when it mattered, and when it didn’t. Then she said that when someone needed her to save them, she’d be fast enough.” Irena looked over at Pim, who watched her with wet cheeks and shining eyes. “And she was.”
At some gatherings, a heavy quiet stretched between the memories. Not this one. Drifter immediately stepped forward to fill it. Irena leaned back into Alejandro, and listened to Drifter’s long, lazy tale from a century before that ended with Dru swearing off men and kicking him out of her bedroom, where he’d landed, “right about thereabouts.” He’d pointed to where the novices stood, which seemed to signal to Becca that it was her turn.
Not everyone shared their stories; Irena shared several. Michael did, Alice, even Ames-Beaumont. Each one gave her more of Dru, and reminded her of how much she liked the Guardians here, whether from their memories or their reactions to the stories they hear
d. And when Alejandro offered his, she not only had more of Dru, but something of Olek from the years they’d kept apart.
No gathering would be worthy of Dru, or capture what she’d been to any of them; but by the end, Irena thought it had spoken well of them, too. Perhaps that was why Michael had begun the tradition.
She looked across the terrace at him as Guardians slowly began to leave. He met her eyes, then made his way across the terrace toward their small group. Khavi walked beside him, frowning. She said something to him in the demon language; Irena couldn’t understand it, but Alice stiffened.
Michael stopped. His eyes shifted to obsidian. His black wings formed. They opened, the feathers appearing to absorb the light from Caelum’s sun. Sweeping down, his enormous wings launched him straight into the air.
Irena watched him rise and fly beyond sight past the wall of the tower. “What did she say, Alice?”
“She said, ‘Will you not sing? Much time will pass before she hears your voice again.’ ”
She? Irena feared Khavi hadn’t meant Dru.
Alejandro pulled in a sharp breath. Her heart a tight knot, she turned to look at him, saw the same dread. “Caelum’s voice,” he murmured.
By the gods—the prophecy. What had it said? The dragon will rise before the lost two. The blood of the dragon will create one door and destroy another. Caelum’s voice will sing it closed with ice and fire and blood, and be lost until she claims her new tongue and the dragon’s blade.
Khavi had predicted that a dragon was coming. And Caelum’s voice would be lost.
Irena shook her head. Each lungful of air she drew felt like wind sawing through a dried clump of grass. “We will not let it—”
A vibration ran up her legs as if the ground beneath her feet shivered. But this wasn’t the brief tremor of a new Gate—the sensation amplified until the marble around them began to hum. A song rose from beneath, from above, swooping and rising through words she didn’t know.
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