The good news was that, obviously, their plan had worked.
The bad news was that it hadn’t been only vampire magic which had trickled from the box. There was old magic in there, too. Blood magic. But that was a worry for another day, as was the realization that this was a hurried copy of the real artifact, one the enemy sorcerer had most likely constructed as a throwaway to test his design. And that meant the real thing was still out there somewhere, waiting to be used.
Dragan had the right of it. It was time to kill that motherless bastard once and for all.
Chapter Eighteen
Two Weeks Later
NICK LEANED BACK, legs stretched out in front of him, and soaked in a scene he’d never thought to see again. His warriors sat around him in the big gathering room at the back of the house, all of them alive and healthy and free. The four amazing women who made this day possible sat with them, quiet or laughing according to their personality, but all of them now a part of the family he’d thought lost to him forever all those centuries ago.
His construction crew had completed the necessary repairs on the house, and his security contractor was currently hard at work upgrading his system to include more cameras and imbedded sensors which would cover every inch of the property when armed. None of that would have stopped Sotiris, but it might have stung him a little, and would have given those in the house a few more minutes warning of his arrival. Minutes might not seem like much, but he knew from hard experience that they could make the difference between injury and disaster, life and death.
A chorus of cheers brought his attention to where Lili had entered the room. She generally avoided any sort of get-together, preferring the company of her computers and machines to even these trustworthy men and women who cared for her deeply. He didn’t pressure her to do otherwise, however. She had her reasons, and they were valid enough. She had no need to explain herself to anyone.
The reason for unusual appearance was made clear when she slipped quietly around the edges of the group, and saying nothing, rested her palm on his shoulder in a gesture of solidarity, before leaving as unobtrusively as she’d entered.
He stared after her for a moment, struck by that touch on his shoulder. Why would Lili think he needed emotional support? And from her. He couldn’t remember a previous time when she’d ever comforted him like that.
But the others had begun to cast curious glances his way, wondering why he’d become so quiet, which wasn’t like him at all. Not the him that they knew, anyway.
“Nico, you’re thinking too hard,” Damian said, landing with his usual grace to sit next to him. “I thought this was, if not a true celebration, then at least at happy occasion.”
Nick smiled at the warrior who’d been with him since childhood, who knew more of his secrets than almost any other, and loved him in spite of it. “You’re right, brother,” he said, grinning.
This wasn’t the time for brooding or regrets. They’d foiled Sotiris’s deadly ploy, his latest in a game for which it seemed only he knew the rules. More and more, it had felt as though Sotiris was moving Nick and the others around a chessboard, running them from crisis to crisis, learning their strategies, their skills, getting ready for a final confrontation—one that would see not just be the end of Nick and his people, but the transformation of this world into a place where only he could win, where he would rule with the cruelty that infested every facet of his life, every inch of his being.
“So?” Damian asked. More than one enemy had looked at Damian and seen nothing but muscle, missing the sharp intellect behind those unusual black eyes. “What is it, brother?”
He nodded slowly. Only the truth would do with this crowd. “We won this battle. By a hair’s breadth to be sure,” he said solemnly, “but we’re all alive and well, as are those thousands who knew nothing of the threat hanging over them.”
“But it’s not over.” Kato’s somber voice said what they’d all been thinking.
“No, it’s not.”
“Fuck.” Kato shoved his long hair back and propped his legs on the chunky coffee table. “I knew you were going to say something like that.”
“It’s not over until Sotiris is dead,” Gabriel commented, leaning in close from where he sat in a big chair made for two, Hana next to him. “We all know he won’t stop until he’s dead.”
“Dust in the wind,” Maeve said softly. “That’s what Lili said.”
“Fuck dust in the wind,” Gabriel said, immediately glancing over to add, “Apologies Mae.” When she waved away the need, he continued. “I want that bastard’s ashes split up and scattered around the world, including the oceans. The deepest part.”
“Works for me,” Damian agreed, glancing at his cell phone, then slapping Nick’s shoulder. “But for now, come on, dinner just arrived, and I’m starving.”
Everyone rose at the same time, but Nick raised his voice, stopping them when they would have trooped out to get the table ready and let the delivery guy through the gate with their food.
“Just one more thing,” he reminded them. “We have a huge advantage, now that the hexagon is where it belongs. Its creator never intended it to be displayed under glass for Sotiris to gloat over. It was fashioned at immeasurable personal cost for one purpose only—to destroy Sotiris. And I will not let that sacrifice be in vain.
“All of us are finally together. He can no longer hold your lives as blackmail to get what he wants, to hobble our efforts. We are the hunters now, and he is the prey.”
There was still no rousing cheer, because there was still no victory, but there were subdued kisses from the women, hugs and claps on the back from the men. Until Damian’s phone chimed again, reminding them that dinner awaited.
Nick lingered behind, wanting a few more minutes before he joined the others, a few more minutes to remember the person who was missing from all this. The one who might have made any future victory possible. He sighed, and was just about to rise, when he looked up to find Maeve standing on the other side of the coffee table with a laptop case under her arm. It almost made him smile. The damn computer was attached to her hip. But she was good on it. No question of that.
“Nick? Can I ask you something?” Her voice was soft, but she stood her ground. There was a stubborn, courageous woman under that delicate exterior.
“Of course,” he said. “Join me.”
She gave him a cautious look before walking around to sit next to him on the couch, leaving just enough room for the computer between them. “I don’t know if Lili mentioned it, or if you’re even interested. But when we were going through the files I copied from Sotiris’s computer that night . . . it was mainly financial docs, by the way, not very useful. But we did find one thing in the trash can, or rather Lili found it. It was an email that had been read and deleted, the only one in there. Anyway, Lili said it was nothing to do with Sotiris, that it was your problem and she’d copy you on it.” She peered at him from behind her hair. “Did she?”
He wanted to grin, but he smiled gently instead. “I don’t know, Maeve. What did it say?”
“Of course, I’m sorry. It was from a woman named Antonia—”
Nick froze at sound of that name, had to fight to keep from shaking her to get on with it, to tell every tiny detail of what they’d found. And why the hell hadn’t Lili told him?
“—and it said,” Maeve continued, unaware of his thundering pulse, “it said ‘Leave me alone.’ Just that.”
As fast as his hopes had risen, they now tumbled to the ground.
“But I’m not really good at letting things go. So last night I needed to . . . come down a little, I guess. Everything’s been moving so fast, and I needed something to wear my damn brain out.” She shrugged. “So I did a little searching. First, I logged into Sotiris’s server and dicked around some with his money. Made big donations to caus
es he’d never in a million years have given money to, mostly because he never gives money to anyone. And then, I inserted a worm to scramble everything that was left, so his accountants will spend next year or three figuring out where his money has gone.”
Nick gave her an admiring look, despite his deep need to know what she’d found about Antonia. “You sure you don’t want to stay here in Florida, work for me? You and Dragan could buy a really nice place, right on the water.”
She shook her head. “No, I think the mountains will be better for us. I can work from anywhere, and Dragan can fly whenever he wants, without anyone noticing. He likes it, you know, the flying part. Anyway. . . . ” She lifted the flap of the computer case and pulled a small square of paper from an inside pocket, handing it to him as she stood. “I’ll leave that with you. I think it’s probably something you’ll want to read in private.”
Waiting until she was gone, he opened his fingers and read the note lying on his palm. Two lines, that’s all it was. The most important two lines of his entire life. “Antonia Rosales,” and on the second line, an address. Gods save him, an address. He’d spent a thousand lifetimes searching for any sign of her, had almost given up more times than he could count. He wanted to race to the airport and fly there. Tonight.
That would be a mistake. He needed to take his time, investigate, find out everything he could before he went to see her. But he would go. There was no force in the world that could stop him.
“Chicago,” he repeated, wondering why she’d ended up there. What had brought her to a city that he’d been to more times than he could count, and had never known she was so close? Closing his eyes in a combination of pain and relief, he pulled himself together and went to join the others.
Epilogue
Four months later, near Chattanooga, Tennessee
MAEVE SMILED AS Dragan drifted on the winds, swooping and dipping as the currents took him, his dark form getting lost in the evening shadows from time to time, though she never lost sight of him. He liked this time of day, because of the shadows. There weren’t many people in this part of the Cumberland Plateau, but the number was growing. And this way, anyone catching a glimpse of him would write it off to a last ray of sunlight through the trees and the growing darkness.
He flew naked from the waist up these days. It made no sense to destroy shirt after shirt, when the temperatures didn’t bother him at all. The wings still ripped open his back, though. She still cried when she saw that, though he insisted it didn’t hurt that much. It was the “that much” that made her heart hurt. But that was the price he paid for his wings, and he loved flying. Not because he had to, or because someone needed to be killed, but just for the joy of riding the winds.
So she hid her tears, though she was sure he knew about them.
They’d bought a hundred acres just north of Chattanooga. Close enough to shop once a month or so, but far enough to ensure privacy. And peace. That was important to Dragan. He’d spent his entire life fighting wars. Now finally, he had peace. And he had Maeve.
They loved each other with a passion that she’d never have believed she could experience. It was a gift, and one she didn’t take lightly. Nor was she willing to risk their happiness for just anyone. She’d worried at first that Nico would call on Dragan too often in his various adventures. But oddly enough, he’d gone quiet since the confrontation with Sotiris. The others still called to chat. Casey and Damian had even come up for a weekend. They were all watching Grace’s pregnancy. Watching her grow and glow, while Kato fretted and worried and changed the design of their renovated house to be sure there wasn’t an edge in sight. Gabriel called, too. And Hana. She and Maeve had formed a bond over video games. They fought late into the night sometimes, all online, of course.
Dragan drifted in for a smooth landing, the muscles of his chest and shoulders defined in graceful lines of such power that he belonged on the canvas of some Renaissance master, not riding the breeze in Tennessee. But when he held out his arms and she went to him, she was grateful that he was here, in this time and place, and he was hers.
“I love you,” she whispered.
His hold tightened as he lifted her into his arms and carried her inside, their mouths locking in a kiss as he whispered against her lips. “As long as there is breath in my lungs, I will be yours, sweet Mae. I love you.”
Chicago, Illinois
NICK DROVE ALONG the wide streets of an upscale Chicago suburb, barely noticing the graceful curves, the long lawns, and elegant mansions behind gates of every size and design.
He watched the house numbers flash by, though he didn’t need them. He’d know the house the moment he arrived. Her magic had been diminished, but she was still who she was. Born of magic, with magic. She didn’t need power, or the ability to cast spells to be who she was. Every cell of her being—body and soul—was intrinsically magical.
When his awareness of her became so strong that it screamed her presence, he turned into a short driveway, pulled up to the gate, and stared into the security camera, not saying a word. The gates opened on silent hinges, and he proceeded up the curving drive to a home that wasn’t as massive as some of the others. Its design was one of refined beauty, rather than ostentatious drama.
He was nervous when he left his car and climbed the few stairs to a wide front porch, the door framed in gracious plants that spoke a warm welcome. He rang the bell and wondered if that welcome would include him.
The door opened, and she stood there, a figure out of his dreams. Her dark beauty was as stunning as ever, her warm brown eyes just a little cautious, and more than a little guilty.
“I found you,” he said simply. And walked into her arms.
To be continued . . .
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Acknowledgements
I couldn’t have survived this past year without my editor, the lovely and talented Brenda Chin. It was a lot of book
s, and thanks to Brenda, a lot of revisions that made every story better. I also want to thank Debra Dixon and everyone at BelleBooks/ImaJinn for all the work they do on my behalf. Also keeping me sane was my assistant, Annette Stone, who took over many additional tasks, so I could focus on writing.
Writing for me means long hours spent on a computer in the middle of the night, but thanks to the internet and favorable time zones, I can reach into the darkness and “talk” to a friend. First among those is my dear friend and fellow writer, Angela Addams. She not only kept me going on that final stretch of deadlines, but she also made sure my first tattoo was inked by a talented artist. Love it!
As always, love and thanks go to my family.
And finally, endless gratitude to the best readers in the world. I couldn’t do what I love without you.
—xoxo
DBR
About the Author
D. B. REYNOLDS arrived in sunny Southern California at an early age, having made the trek across the country from the Midwest in a station wagon with her parents, her many siblings, and the family dog. And while she has many (okay, some) fond memories of Midwestern farm life, she quickly discovered that L.A. was her kind of town and grew up happily sunning on the beaches of the South Bay.
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