by Jaime Rush
In the dim light coming from the kitchen’s night-light, she could see the bloody etch of his wings across his broad back. His beautiful essence gone, stripped away. And now something dark was taking its place.
She sank to her knees, studying his face for any sign of wakefulness. In sleep, he didn’t seem so dangerous. His mouth was relaxed, soft and curved up at the corners.
Like an alligator.
He had amazing cheekbones, and she fought the urge to trace along the ridge and down his jawline. The compulsion to run her fingers through his hair was just as strong. She let her gaze draw down past that horrible wound. His back rose and fell with his deep, even breathing. She ached for him, for his losses and betrayals. Her hand drifted toward his lower back, where he was unmarred. She let it hover an inch above the indent of his spine at his waistband. His body heat radiated into her palm.
She should not be here. What if he woke? Danger crackled along her senses, beckoning her like a siren. She had talked him down earlier, even as she’d been scared to death that he might overpower her. She’d never been one to have domination fantasies, or any fantasies, really. But his dark power woke something inside her she didn’t want to evaluate too closely.
She who lies with a wild animal will be eaten by one.
But now he was dormant, safe, locked away in sleep. His fingers twitched with whatever dream he was having. Given recent events, it probably wasn’t a good one.
“Emma,” he whispered, agony lacing his voice that sounded younger than his years. “Don’t die.”
The little girl who died in his arms? His breath heaved in something like a sob. He’d been but a boy then, caught in a terrible situation. She let her hand rest on him lightly, hoping to bring him out of REM at least.
The connection sucked her into his nightmare instead. The scene, hazy and too bright, exploded into her mind, seen through a young Kasabian’s eyes. He sat on a small bed holding a girl, a wall of grief breaking him down. She had long blond hair, like Kye’s; her blue eyes were pale and lifeless. He gently closed her eyes with his fingers and sat with her in a nearly bare room with hardly a toy or a splash of color. On another bed, a Deuce boy comforted a crying girl.
He met Kasabian’s gaze. “She’ll be next. She’s as weak as Emma was. Your father’s killing us, you know.”
He’d suspected. Feared it. Now the realization weighed heavy as Kasabian nodded. “How many have died?”
“Four that I know of. The rest just disappear. He says they go home. But I know what that means.” Panic seized the boy’s face. “Emma will be taken, too, and the others will be told the same.”
Kasabian slid out from beneath the girl’s small body. “I’m going to get you out of here. All of you.”
He closed the door behind him and checked the other rooms in the hallway. Each held two or more children, their eyes gaunt, mouths in frowns. She felt her own heart cave at the sight, twisting with Kasabian’s grief and resoluteness. So many to save. Too many.
He ducked around the corner as an adult came down the hallway and passed by. A door opened, and a dark-haired boy with vivid blue eyes whispered, “What are you doing out? It’s after bedtime.”
Kasabian swiped at his eyes. “I was thirsty.”
The boy touched his hand. “You’re crying? That’s right. You have a home to be sick for. I could make you feel better.”
Kasabian pulled away from his clammy grip. “We’ll get into trouble. I’m going to bed.”
The boy looked angry and hurt. “Why aren’t you my friend anymore?”
“Because you’re a suck-up to the man who’s keeping us captive and hurting us.” Kasabian’s anger and disgust swirled inside him as he continued down the hall. When the door slammed closed, he went three doors down and slipped into a room where a young Hayden sat reading on the bed.
“He’s killing the children,” Kasabian said as he sat next to him. “We have to get them out of here.”
A blast of chilled air swept through the dream. The haziness cleared, and a dark-haired man appeared. She thought it might be the spurned boy down the hall, his features now lean with maturity.
He looked around. “Ah, the good old days. Before you left me.”
“The good old days? When my father held us prisoner? Murdered children?” Kasabian was still the twelve-year-old, yet he squared his shoulders. “Get the hell out of my dream, Silva.”
The man who’d posed as Kasabian’s friend! He could get into other people’s dreams?
“So touchy. I merely came to see if you wanted your wings back.”
Kye remained very still in the dream, unsure if it was a dream anymore.
Kasabian stood warily, his eyes narrowed. “And how do I do that?”
“Come and get me. Let’s play at Kennedy Park on Bayshore.” Silva disappeared.
Kye lurched up as Kasabian stirred awake. She had just enough time to get behind the couch before he sprang to his feet. He threw on his shirt, slipped into his shoes, and scribbled a note that he left for her on the table. The barrier shimmered as he went through.
It shimmered as she went through, too.
Chapter 11
Kasabian knew it could be a trap. Was probably a trap. He also knew that, for some reason, Silva wasn’t intent on killing him. He’d already had the chance. No, he wanted to keep him in some room to…what, convince him that what they were doing was right? That would never happen. Kasabian did not have his Caido abilities, but he had the Shadow. It unfurled like a battle flag inside him as he walked into the park.
He felt the barrier form soon after he crossed the boundary, no surprise. Silva would not choose a public place like this without ensuring that they weren’t disturbed. Or seen. This kind of barrier made everything look like it was supposed to from the outside. Mundanes would feel a revulsion about entering the park and turn away. Crescents would know it was something supernatural and decide it was better to leave.
The moon silvered the dewy grass and made the black pathways even darker. Kasabian crept along the inner edge of mangroves, silent as an assassin. And he did want to kill Silva. His blood burned with the need; his back stung with it. The rage at his betrayal resurfaced, surging through his system with such force that his vision dimmed for a moment.
A figure dropped down from a lower branch of a tree several yards away. The man wore black, but his pale skin reflected the moonlight. Silva walked out in the open. “Kasabian.”
Kasabian stepped onto the dark path, pulling back the rage at seeing the man who’d Stripped him. For now. “Silva.” It took all of his control to hold back the vitriol he felt in saying his name.
Silva smiled. “It’s been a long time since you’ve said my name. My real name.”
His deception burned, but Kasabian held that back, too. “That’s not your real name either.”
Silva waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t even remember my original name. When our father gave me a new start, he allowed me to choose a name.”
Our father. “You feel a great deal of loyalty toward Treylon.” Kasabian didn’t want to use that familial title because he did not feel the man was his father. “Is that why you go along with his plans?”
Silva’s mouth tightened. “Loyalty is a valuable thing, Kasabian. A rare and beautiful concept that most don’t understand.”
For some reason, Kasabian thought of Kye. No, sensed her. Not panic or pain, just her. He focused on Silva. “You’re angry that I left seventeen years ago.” Kasabian didn’t phrase it as a question, and he didn’t need to.
Silva’s expression caved for a moment, revealing the pain. “We were friends, the oldest of the Caido children.”
“Then you joined the other side. I couldn’t let you be my friend and my father’s number one helper at the same time. Now I wonder if it’s Stockholm syndrome.”
Silva sputtered. “It’s very simple. Treylon treated me better than any adult ever had. And I liked being important. The night you were dreaming about,
you went to Hayden. Not me, Hayden. You shut me out.” Bitterness seeped into his words.
“You were my father’s pet. I couldn’t trust you. We could only take a few of the kids with us, the ones who were in the worst shape.” He’d left many more behind. “I had every intention of bringing back the authorities to release everyone there. Including you.” It was too late to ask now, but he would anyway. “Would you have gone to him with my plan?”
“Of course. I didn’t want you to leave me.”
Silva would make this about him, no matter what Kasabian said. He needed to put aside his disgust—his pity—and find out what he could. “I wasn’t leaving you. I was going to save everyone and shut Treylon’s operation down.”
“What a hero,” Silva sneered. “If you hadn’t interfered, we could be free of this curse, able to love and feel without pain. Things got shaky after your escape. Our benefactors told us to pull back. They couldn’t protect us if it went public. Father had to shut it down and go away for a while. You are very shortsighted.”
“Perhaps.” Kasabian shrugged. “I don’t think we should use animals to test products and procedures either. Call me a softie.” He walked over to one of the bars where runners could stretch. Keep calm, control yourself. For now. He focused on the cold metal beneath his fingers. “Treylon restarted the program. Why?”
“Because we can.” And that was all Silva was going to tell him, by the smug expression on his face.
“You said you’d restore my Caido. I assume you want something in return.”
Silva smiled, making him look like the Joker in the moonlight. “Let me fuck you. Here. Now.”
The words thumped against Kasabian. “You’re kidding.”
Silva’s smile vanished. “Do I look like I’m trying to be amusing? Strip, bend over.” He tapped the bars. “And let me drive into you. I know you think you don’t go that way, but I promise you’ll like it.”
The Shadow reared up in anger. Kasabian let it out. He felt its “wings” fully extend without pain. Silva hunched over as his Caido wings tore through his shirt, and Kasabian lunged for his neck. Silva flipped backward over the bars and hit the ground hard, smashing his wings. Kasabian stopped when the image of talons overlaying his hands snagged his attention. What the hell?
Silva took advantage of his shock, throwing him several yards. Kasabian landed on the grass, though it was still not a soft landing. He’d only just gotten to his feet when Silva knocked him back again and jumped on him. His weight propelled the air from his lungs.
Silva’s eyes flashed black, hints of red undulating within as he straddled Kasabian. “So beautiful when you’re angry.”
Kasabian reached for his throat again, but he was three inches short of contact. Rage engulfed him with heat as Silva’s thighs tightened on Kasabian’s hips. Magick tingled along his outstretched fingers, pooling at the ends. The black talons grew into tendrils, stretching from his fingertips and wrapping around Silva’s throat like five thin snakes.
Like Silva’s magick.
Silva’s words came back to him: We always differed on our ideals, even as we are alike in other ways.
“Son of a bitch. I’m a Wraithlord.”
“I wondered if you knew,” Silva gritted out. “Because…you didn’t use it last time.”
Silva’s magick sliced through the elongated talons, severing them. Once released, he extended claws toward Kasabian. Caidos used their Light as weapons, sometimes as swords. Kasabian didn’t know how to use the dark, but he would improvise. He envisioned a hatchet, and it appeared from the palm of his hand. This is cool. I can work with this. He swung it at Silva, who scrambled away. The blade nicked his back, leaving a long red line that oozed blood.
Silva got to his feet and faced Kasabian, arms akimbo. From his hands sprang two whips, which he wielded. The two faced off.
“How do we get this way?” Kasabian asked. “Is Treylon one?”
“No. It’s a random genetic mutation, passed down from someone in your family.”
Kasabian stalked closer, swinging the hatchet. As he advanced, the blade grew larger, the sharp point at the top longer.
Silva watched, his eyes widening. “You obviously know how to use your dark magick.” He flicked the whip, and Kasabian swung. The fringed tip fell to the ground. “But I’ve been working with it longer, I bet.”
His other whip snapped, wrapping around the base of the hatchet’s blade. Kasabian held on, but Silva’s magick was better honed. The whip turned to flame, shooting heat up the handle. Kasabian struggled to yank it away as his palms blistered. He released it when the pain became too much.
Silva looked dreamily at Kasabian. “How I’ve longed to look at you like this, to see the Shadow in your eyes.”
Shadow. Exactly what Kasabian had called it. “Are we part demon?”
Silva laughed. “Part angel, part demon. Wouldn’t that be quaint? But no. We are part Obsidian Dragon. Our Light has the abilities of their Breath weapon. We harbor the beast’s hunger and fire, but we cannot turn into one. Too bad, that. When the gods became physical on Lucifera, an angel or two must have unknowingly mated with an Obsidian in human form.” He arched one of his fine eyebrows. “We might even be related if we traced our ancestry back several generations.”
Kasabian liked the idea of harboring a Dragon as opposed to a demon. “But that doesn’t explain how we can control wraiths.”
Silva seemed eager to share information about their heritage, probably thinking it might bond them. “That, from what I understand, comes from the unique combination of power. Though a Caido isn’t strong enough, the added power allows us to have control.”
“Nice to know. I’ll keep that in mind the next time I run across some wraiths.” Kasabian created a sword that he thrust at Silva. The tip sunk in before Silva lurched backward, his hands covering the wound. Blood poured out between his fingers. Then Light emanated from his hand, and the bleeding stopped. Kasabian was ready when that bloodied hand shot toward him, sending a spear sailing at his shoulder. He shifted, and it missed by inches.
Frustration set Silva’s face in a tight mask. He windmilled his hands, drawing several swirls of smoke into a tornado. Kasabian cut through it before it could fully form, slicing across Silva’s arms in the process.
“I don’t want to hurt you!” Silva shouted. “I just want…”
“What? Me helpless, submitting to your lust while you convince me that what Treylon is doing is right?”
Again, Kye’s presence and energy filled him. Now was not the time to be thinking about her. Why was she popping into his mind?
Silva’s laugh was harsh this time. “Lust? You think I merely lust for you? I have others to sate my base needs.”
Kasabian pulled the sword in an arc to the right, willing it to extend as he did. The blade sang as it sailed toward Silva’s neck. He dove at Kasabian, rolling up to his feet in front of him. Smiling. The sword was torn from Kasabian’s hands and flew over his head. Something pulled at him from behind. Kasabian spun to face a black tornado. It had been silently forming behind him all along. It sucked him in, pinning him as though it were made of glue. He summoned his power, feeling the tornado crack against his skin. But it wouldn’t break apart.
A blue orb streaked past like a comet and crashed into the side of Silva’s head. He stumbled, and his tornado splintered.
Orb. Deuce. Kasabian spun to the right, shocked to find Kye at the edge of the mangroves working up another orb on her palm. Use Silva’s surprise. He threw a magick cloud at him, keeping him from getting to his feet. Using his hands the way Silva had in forming the tornado, Kasabian turned the cloud into bars that imprisoned his opponent. Silva tried to wrench them apart and hissed when they burned his hands.
Kasabian glanced at his own blistered palm. Whatever this magick was, however wicked, it was amazing. And dangerous as it pulsed through him, wanting to destroy. He looked Kye’s way, taking in her silk pajamas, the tangle of her long hair.
“Restore my Caido,” Kasabian said.
“You brought a woman to the fight?” Silva said, disgust in his voice. “You needed a woman to distract me so you could get the upper hand?”
Did he not know who Kye was? Silva had obviously never seen her. Kasabian decided to play the same angle and keep her out. “I didn’t bring her. She must have slipped past your barrier.” He shot her a menacing look. “Or came in right before you erected it.” That she’d followed him, and put herself in danger, infuriated him. “Just an innocent bystander, but nevertheless, you screwed up.” He turned back to Silva, pressing the bar harder. It punctured his skin. “Restore me. Now. Give me your word that is what you will do, and nothing more.”
Silva released a long breath, his gaze sliding to Kye. Kasabian followed his gaze. She stood several yards away, a blue orb floating above her open palm, still looking murderous. But the shock of what she’d seen was clear in the pallor of her face. And he felt it now that he could sort through his own reactions and emotions.
“I give you my word,” Silva said, releasing a silvery black mist from his hand that floated through the bars.
Once outside them, it formed into angel wings. Kasabian’s apprehension tightened every muscle in his body as the wings came to rest against his tender back. Could he count on the promise of someone like Silva? He felt ice saturate every cell. His hands glowed briefly as his Caido essence settled back inside him. He felt it tip the balance again. But Kasabian knew the two energies would fight for control.
He Invoked, and his wings tore through his back. The pain was a relief, along with the feeling of angel that surged through him.
The bars disintegrated, and Silva got to his feet. “The woman must be memory-locked or killed.”