by Joey W. Hill
“One day you might go to the Fae world,” Uthe said, sobering. “But I will tell you something, Evan. You could see every marvel there and here, but it is in the art inspired by your feelings for Niall and Alanna that you will learn the scope of the universe. No matter where you go together or what you do, your hearts contain infinite creation. Correct? I am telling you something you already know.”
The sudden intensity of his words ended the jesting and brought that resolute look back to Evan’s countenance. He gripped Uthe’s hand. “You are mishpacha. Family. Father of my blood, my lord. Hearing you may not grace me with your presence again breaks my heart. I would do anything to help you. Please, let me aid you in this.”
“I cannot allow that, but your willingness to do so pleases me. You have surpassed my highest expectations, and I know you will continue to do so.” Uthe rose, drawing the vampire with him. This time, he initiated the embrace, holding him close, feeling his heart ache against the beat of the other male’s. “Know that I carry our bond with me wherever I go, and I am very proud of what you have made of yourself. Continue to explore your art, and wherever your interests take you. If the Lord has given you an immortal life, then honor me by taking full pleasure in it, and being the intelligent and compassionate man I know you to be. Who knows?” Uthe drew back. “You might yet one day sit on Council.”
“You tell me you care for me and yet you curse me,” Evan accused, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. But there were tears in his eyes. Jewish men were notoriously emotional. Being from German stock, Uthe shied away from open expressions of such things. But this time, he put his thumbs in the corners of Evan’s eyes, framing his face with his large hands, and absorbed the tears into his flesh. “Go with God,” Uthe murmured. “May His blessings always be upon you and those you love, so you will share eternity together.”
Chapter Thirteen
They re-entered the Fae world at the same portal. Keldwyn told Uthe the Shattered World was less than a day’s journey and that they would arrive there before nightfall. His mission was upon them at last, no further delays. Uthe had gone over all the possibilities he might face many times before this moment. Just like when he’d reviewed battle plans for Templars or vampires, there was a point at which further review was unnecessary. All that was left were prayer and meditation. Checking his horse, cleaning his weapons. Making casual conversation with his other brethren about simple things. There was no point in dwelling on what was ahead when all preparations had been made. The rest was in the hands of God, a matter of Fate or chance. Or capricious luck.
As they drew closer to their destination, the sun seemed to shift away from the horizon, as if it had slipped off a shelf and tumbled into a corner. The ground remained green but became more open, with less trees. Signs of animal, bird or Fae life dwindled. The sky turned light gray then darkened, like before a storm. But there was no texture to it, no clouds building against it to herald rain.
Then Uthe realized it wasn’t a sky at all. As they topped another in a series of ever-steepening hills, suddenly there was nothing left to climb. Uthe came to a halt at the unexpected landscape before them. It was…nothing. Behind them, under their feet, was the green grass. Much further back were the woodlands, the mirror bright streams, ponds and lakes that embellished a panoramic view of the Fae world. Ahead of them was grayness. No ground, no sky. His brain struggled to make sense of it, to look for a solid reference point. The hill on which they stood simply stopped in mid-air, as if bisected. He extended his arm to test the substance in front of him, but Keldwyn caught his wrist.
“It is best not to touch the gateway until we are ready to pass through it.”
“It looks like we’re stepping into nothing.”
“There is a reason the Shattered World is also called the Uncharted Plain. Nothing can be controlled or fathomed there. Throughout the years, Fae who believe they have figured it out go in, armed with their scrolls and their belief that they can make sense of it. None of those have ever returned. Yet.”
“But others have emerged?”
“A few, to give us what little information they could, much of it with no clear interpretation. It is always those who stumbled across the threshold through accident. They either remember nothing, or it’s a jumble of images and ideas. Some come out entirely mad, their minds destroyed. Reality and fantasy are defined by whatever magic rules the place.”
“You have your theories.” Uthe gave him a sidelong glance. “I expect you’ve studied everything you can find about it. It’s a puzzle, and those bother you.”
“Not bother. They challenge me.” Keldwyn tossed him an arch look, though. “Yes. Whenever magic is used, I think there are residual energies—waste, if you will. Perhaps places like the Shattered World are a dumping ground for such magics, which is why it made a good hiding place for your relics. In the Shattered World, there is no authority to control what lies there, as far as we know.”
Keldwyn considered him. “Which is why I find it remarkable that you can still feel the blood link with the demon and the Baptist, when even your bond with your servants has a limit of several thousand miles.”
“Shahnaz thought it was because of the way the magic of the demon combines with the power of the prophet, fueled by the purity of the innocent. Regardless, it’s allowed me to be sure the head has been unmolested all these years.”
Keldwyn shifted his attention to the gate. “You took a tremendous risk when you ingested blood from the head. The demon could have infected you with darkness.”
“The prayer and meditation have managed it over the years.” At Keldwyn’s surprised look, Uthe offered a faint smile. “What? You didn’t make that connection? Do I really seem that devout without proper motivation? And you consider yourself so smart.”
Keldwyn snorted. “You are devout, Lord Uthe. Do not try to ‘snow’ me, as Gideon might say.”
You do not fear death, yet you will kill your Master. As soon as you cross this threshold, it is certain. I will make sure he dies an agonizing death. But that doesn’t matter, does it? You won’t even remember him, let alone his pain.
It wasn’t the first time the demon had tried to ambush Uthe with violent, bloody images. He usually blocked them so that he barely felt the malevolence of the attempt, let alone saw the pictures, but the demon had hit him at a weak moment. As his mind filled with visions of Keldwyn being tortured in ways too horrific to even comprehend, his beautiful body torn apart, Uthe struggled to contain and vanquish the violent tornado of blood and screams.
“It is possible, once we pass through, that we will not end up in the same place,” Kel was saying. “I will have your word that you will find me before you proceed.”
“No. You shouldn’t even be going with me. Completing the task is my charge, and if I can’t—”
Keldwyn closed his hand on the pendant on Uthe’s neck and jerked it free, despite Uthe’s swift attempt to block him. The metal disk disappeared into Keldwyn’s clothing. “There. Since you need the sorceress’s weapon, then you will find me, if not for my own sake or yours, for the sake of your quest.”
He should wrestle the bastard to the ground, take it back. Only the knowledge that Keldwyn could probably glamor the thing into another galaxy stopped him, but he showed his fangs to prove his displeasure. Kel tossed him a kiss-my-oh-so-pretty-ass look in response.
“Damn it, Kel.” Out of pure frustration, Uthe punched him in the side. It took the Fae by surprise, and knocked him several feet to the right. When he narrowed his gaze, Uthe braced himself, but Kel’s mouth lost its tight look at whatever he saw in Uthe’s face.
“The demon is speaking to you, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Telling me you’re dead as soon as you cross with me. In a hundred terrible ways.” The demon had called Keldwyn Uthe’s Master, and he hadn’t denied it, had he? The thing was too connected to the deeper levels of his mind, to things even Uthe hadn’t yet acknowledged.
“Is that all?” Keldwyn l
ooked amused. “In well over a thousand years, how many times have your enemies threatened you with ostentatious declarations about your impending death, my lord? And how hideous and painful they plan to make it?”
At Kel’s expectant expression, Uthe grimaced. “I once faced a Saracen who gave a five minute dissertation on how he’d tie me up in my intestines and feed my tongue to my mother before he fucked her to death. It made me glad I’d learned their language, just to hear how much thought he put into it.”
Keldwyn chuckled. “Queen Rhoswen has threatened me with death in so many ways I could have them archived. My personal favorite was when she said she would hack my arms and legs from my torso with a dull-edged knife and pin them to each corner of her throne room. She would then cut off my manhood and give it to the household staff to beat rugs. My head would be delivered to the Queen’s Guard and dumped in their latrine so they could shit on it until it decomposed. I told her I was honored that she considered my cock capable of maintaining enough size and rigidity after death that it would be of such use to the maids and, if that was the case, they might find other uses for it.”
Uthe stared at him, then he let out a rich, full-bodied belly laugh as cleansing as a surge of God’s pure light through his veins. Maybe that was what laughter was. “You’re lucky she didn’t do it.”
Keldwyn’s gaze had snapped to Uthe’s face as he began to laugh, and dwelled there until he subsided and discovered how closely the Fae was looking at him.
“What?”
“‘We altogether prohibit idle words and wicked bursts of laughter.’ So says your Rule. That might not be a wicked burst of laughter, but it certainly gave me wicked thoughts.”
Uthe blinked. “I will say a paternoster for us both, then, since I'm sure you will not.” They stood in front of the Shattered World, facing all manner of serious challenges, and Keldwyn was dwelling on laughter and pleasures of the flesh. He wanted to give him an exasperated look, but instead Uthe touched Keldwyn’s neck, following the line of it to his jaw, the side of his face, a drifting quest that had the Fae’s eyes flickering.
“You had a tattoo here the other day."
"And I can have it again." The design reappeared. Uthe noticed Keldwyn’s grimace, though.
"Does it hurt?"
"It has a momentary sting.” Keldwyn captured Uthe’s hand on his face. “I’ve never heard you laugh like that. You ease my heart, Varick. And lift it.”
Before Uthe’s surprised gaze, Kel pressed his lips to Uthe’s palm. When the Fae raised his head, he didn’t let go.
“You have wondered how much you can trust me, but you have known the answer to that for some time. It is only your mind you doubt, not your heart. But in case you harbor any further worries, I will say this to you. You said that the loss of Reghan destroyed my ability to love or be a Master to another. You were right. But you have resurrected the desire. Which is why I chose to take this journey with you, and why I intend to see it through with you to the end. If our fate is to wander the Shattered World forever afterward, then I shall have no discontent if we do so together. I am sure we can figure out how to have our chess games and argue Fae and vampire politics there as much as we have here.”
Uthe had no words to answer such a declaration, no gift big enough to match the Fae’s. He was a vampire beset with Ennui, charged with a quest that could cost both their lives. He should figure out a way to knock the Fae unconscious and go without him, but Kel would just follow him after he woke.
“As far as the politics,” Uthe said, his voice unsteady, “we’ll have just as much luck applying useful answers in the Shattered World as we do with the Vampire Council.”
“True enough. Though the term ‘shouting into a void’ will be quite literal there, I expect.”
“Agreed.” Uthe paused. “I would ask a favor, my lord. And your trust. Give me back the medallion. If the Shattered World is what you say it is, and the demon is clever as only evil can be, then those two together might ensure we never find one another, since the magic can only be used by me, because of the blood link.”
“So you think me having it might guarantee us being kept apart?”
“I do.”
“A compelling argument.” Keldwyn produced the medallion. He stepped closer, placing it back around Uthe’s neck, fusing the link he’d broken. “Very well. But before we make this step, you will drink from me once more. I know you just drank from Alanna, but my blood seemed to energize you last time. In case we are separated for some length of time, I want to know you have that extra resource.”
“Kel, there’s a way we can make sure we find one another. Except…” In light of the other challenges they faced, it seemed ridiculous to be hesitant about such a thing, but Uthe was unsure of Keldwyn’s reaction. He might not have brought up the topic at all, but Keldwyn’s unprecedented words, and the freely given offer of blood, summoned it to his lips. “I can mark you. It worked on Lyssa, when Jacob was a vampire and she lost all but the abilities her Fae blood gave her. We could do only the first mark, the geographical locator, the most innocuous of the three. However, if the power in the Shattered World is as strong as you say, a second mark would be best, because then we can speak in one another’s minds.
“You wouldn’t be a servant,” he hastened to say at Keldwyn’s sudden blank expression. “It wouldn’t be the third mark, which binds your mortality to mine. I could give you the blood mark the Region Masters and overlords give vampires in their territories, or the type given when we sire a vampire, but that may only work on other vampires, and it’s not as strong as what we use for servants.”
He stopped. He could tell nothing from Keldwyn’s expression. “It is simply an idea,” he said. “One that might not work. And if it did and we return, Brian could possibly reverse it. His experience with that thus far has been with vampires and human servants, though.”
He shouldn’t have brought it up. This was a high Fae Lord. It was a miracle he’d given Uthe blood once, let alone offered it twice. But damn it, he didn’t want Kel to be where he couldn’t aid him if needed. Uthe wasn’t going to let pride, fear of rejection or the damn Fae’s own ego stand in the way of protecting him however he could.
Keldwyn adjusted his stance so he was facing that gray miasma. “What am I to you, Lord Uthe?”
“An ally. A friend.” A friend he’d let deeper inside him than any other. “A warrior I’m honored to fight beside, on any field.”
“Word games, Lord Uthe. The two of us excel at playing them.” Keldwyn turned to face him fully, coming a step closer, the toes of one booted foot pressed against the side of Uthe’s. Keldwyn curled his fingers in the belt of Uthe’s tunic and held. “What am I to you, Lord Uthe?”
A miracle that had appeared when he needed it most, and not merely for the completion of this task. Someone willing to stand beside him as he faced the loss of his faculties, something he feared far worse than death, because of the decisions it would take out of his hands. Someone he could trust to make decisions for him when necessary, because Keldwyn understood his mind and needs as he understood his own.
He wished their minds were linked as a vampire’s was to a second mark, so he could have shared that. Some things couldn’t be spoken out loud in the same way they could be thought. Then Uthe thought of what the demon had said. He didn’t like that the demon had spoken the truth first, but that was what made a demon so dangerous. He knew how to use the truth to drag down the soul. But Uthe had the will to take it back, elevate it by owning it fully.
“You’re my lord Keldwyn. My lord.” He swallowed, somewhat amused by his sudden nervousness. The thread of tension between them was wound tight as they stood on more than one kind of precipice. “My Master.”
The reaction in Keldwyn’s face was indescribable, so beautiful it sent a bolt of pain through Uthe. It was as if speaking that one word had staked him through the chest and destroyed him, but only so he could rise from his own ashes to this. Then the Fae’s every fac
ial muscle relaxed, Keldwyn’s eyes glowing with heat and his sensual lips parted. His body thrummed with energy against Uthe’s.
“I will take you here, Lord Uthe, on this threshold, in case the powers beyond it do not give us that pleasure. You will give me your marks to safeguard, so I may hold onto your mind as you hold onto mine. And you will take my blood, now and whenever you have need of it, for as long as I have life to give you.”
Keldwyn’s hands were already on Uthe’s belt, unbuckling it, nudging his hands out of the way as he stripped the tunic from him. It was good that he did so, for it took Uthe a few moments to recover from the import of Keldwyn’s words and catch up. But then Uthe divested himself of the leggings and boots, everything except the medallion he wore, the heat of the medal burning into his tingling skin. Keldwyn pressed him down to his knees and made him stay that way as he stripped off his own clothes. He tapped his thigh next to his jutting cock. “Make your marks here, Varick. Take the blood you need, if you can do it at the same time. It would please me to see you nourish yourself off of me on your knees like this.”
Uthe’s own cock jumped at the heavy pleasure in the Fae’s thick tone. Sliding his hands up the sleek muscular columns, he pressed his thumbs into Kel’s inner thighs, a mute request for him to spread his legs even wider. He didn’t deny himself a taste of that other hard column, though, licking a line up Keldwyn’s cock, nipping at the corona and sipping the fluid collecting at the tip of the glans before taking the whole thing for one strong stroke in his mouth, savoring Keldwyn’s taste. Keldwyn’s hand fell on his head. “The marks and the blood first, Varick,” he said, though his voice was rigid with desire.
Uthe moved to the pounding beat of the femoral, tracing it with his tongue. The skin was so smooth on the Fae’s inner thigh.
He let his fangs unsheathe. The monumental meaning of what he was about to do, what it would mean to the two of them, overwhelmed him, even as his practical side suggested he not get too excited, since it might not take. Keldwyn wasn’t Lyssa, half Fae and half vampire. His high Fae blood might reject the mark, spit it out like chaff.