by Aliya DalRae
After a while, he squeezed my hand and whispered, “Allon took my eye.”
“I know,” I whispered back to him, trying hard not to let the emotion I was feeling show in my voice.
“It’s just an eye.” He said it like a mantra, like it was something he’d been repeating to himself from the moment he’d received the news.
“But it was your eye, and someone stole it from you,” I snapped, and he turned his gaze to me. “You didn’t deserve this, Nox.”
“Didn’t I?” he asked, and I knew what he was thinking.
“No. You absolutely did not. You were a pawn in some sick bastard’s game of revenge. You were used, and though you may have physically committed the crimes, they belong to someone else.”
A moment passed before he spoke again.
“Did I ever tell you about the murders? About how they made me feel, during? After?”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear this, but it seemed Nox needed to talk, and I was the lucky listener.
“No,” I whispered.
“I felt omnipotent. I felt alive and invincible. I was an all-powerful god, life and death decisions all mine to make. It was my right to destroy them, and anyone who tried to stand in my way would meet the same end as those poor souls whose lives were already in my hands.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I chose to stay quiet.
“Later on, though, when the blood lust had burned its way through me, when I was all alone with the memories of what I had done, it made me ill.”
I looked at him and nodded, but he said, “No, I mean physically ill. I stood in the shower, vomiting up every ounce of ill-gotten blood I’d ingested during the kills. The essence of those innocent girls coursing through me was like an internal assault and my body rejected it. Just as I had rejoiced in taking it.”
Still, I said nothing. When a person tells you something like Nox just told me? Well, sometimes I think it’s better if you don’t say anything at all. There was nothing I could add, no platitudes I could offer that would make up for how he was feeling, and so I chose to remain silent.
We sat together like that, both lost in our own thoughts. Eventually, though, the continuing saga of our lives interrupted the serenity.
Chapter Ninety
M ason burst into the room, that infernal redhead at his back, disturbing the comfortable peace that Nox and Jessica had established.
“How are you feeling?” Mason asked.
Though Nox wasn’t certain of the necessity of a response, he answered anyway. “Bloody sick and tired of everyone asking me how I’m feeling.”
“Good,” Mason said. Nox rolled his eyes—or eye, he supposed was the correct term now—as the Warlord barreled onward.
“I need you to do something for me.”
“I’m a bit busy at the moment,” Nox replied. “Convalescing and such.”
“We have a lead on the Sorcerer, but so far nothing is panning out. It would help if we had an idea precisely whom we are looking for.”
“Tall skinny fellow, white hair, surly demeanor.” Nox was on a roll, not that the Warlord appreciated it.
“We need your particular brand of magic,” Mason said. “The Overlord is willing to let you meet with the girl who was compelled to attack you. If you could look inside her mind, see who it was who did this to her, Merlin would be able to work up a sketch and get it out to the rest of the Soldiers. We’re watching the house he’s been occupying, but if he’s still staying there, nobody’s seen him.”
“I’m sorry,” Jessica interrupted. “But isn’t ‘tall, skinny fellow, white hair, surly demeanor’ a good enough description? I mean, how many Sorcerers do we have running around Fallen Cross at any given moment?”
“Not all of us have the experience with the Sorcerers that you have, Jessica. There are Soldiers who have never seen one. Of course, Merlin could sketch a random Sorcerer, but if we had specifics, it would help. Or he could have been wearing a disguise when he approached the girl. Plus, she could be in possession of other information that could be integral in finding the bastard and putting him down.” Mason turned to Nox. “Will you do it?”
Nox didn’t answer right away. He’d just recalled in detail the murders he’d done under Helmut Fuhrmann’s compulsion. Had described to Jessica exactly how each one had made him feel, the torture that haunted him every day of his life.
He was still learning to live with the knowledge of the things he had done. Chances were good that the little cat Shifter with the vacant eyes was going through the same brand of hell.
While Mason’s request made a certain level of sense, Nox was more concerned about the girl. There were days when the dreams overwhelmed him, when he woke with red tearstains on his pillow and a hollow chasm in the pit of his gut. He was a centuries-old Vampire, well and truly jaded by the hell his life had been, but not her. She was young and though she played at being tough, this was the kind of thing that could break a person.
“I’ll do it,” Nox said, before the Warlord could ask again.
“Excellent,” Mason said. “Rachel and Harrier will go with you, to pave the way with the girl. Get as much from her as you can. It took a lot to get the okay for this from Brandt, but I reminded him that the responsibility for this lay on his shoulders.”
Mason continued to talk, but Nox was no longer listening. His focus was on the Scottish woman who stood braced by the door glaring daggers at him while he attempted to do the same.
Unfortunately, she was much better at it than he was, now. She had twice the ammunition.
Chapter Ninety-One
R aven woke with a start. The bed was empty, save for him, and he felt a keen loss at Jessica’s absence.
His sleep had been troubled. Disturbing dreams of darkness and death had left him tossing and turning. First the dreams were of physical pain, of torture, and he didn’t need a shrink to tell him where those subconscious musings were coming from.
As these dreams faded, Raven was struck by an overwhelming emotional pain. It started deep within his heart and tore at his soul until nothing remained but bits and pieces of the respectable male he had tried so hard to become.
For Jessica.
Her scent, that honeysuckle and wine combo, permeated the air. It arose from the bathroom, the bed, his very body, reassuring him that the past few hours had been real, and not another cruel dream screwing with his head.
When his heart slowed to an acceptable at-rest rate on the cardio scale, he slipped his feet to the floor and sat up on the edge of the bed.
“Jessica?” he called, but he didn’t need the lack of response to know she wasn’t in the suite.
Raven scrubbed his hands across his eyes to wipe away the sleep and the terrors it had brought. He then pushed himself from the mattress and stumbled into the bathroom. Their clothes and towels lay in soggy piles, right where they left them. Raven smiled.
After their enthusiastic reunion, Jessica had forced him to eat real food before she allowed them both to collapse in his bed. They’d made love one more time before wrapping themselves in each other’s arms and sleeping the sleep of the dead.
Raven glanced in the mirror, his eyes narrowing at the dark circles that still painted the area beneath his eyes. He studied his reflection a moment longer, then rubbed his left eye to clear away the fog.
When that didn’t work, he closed his right eye, testing Allon’s prediction about his vision clearing up. Though it didn’t seem any worse, Raven wasn’t seeing much of an improvement either.
Deciding to worry about it all later, he went to the kitchen to find something more to eat. While he’d appreciated the impromptu breakfast Jessica prepared for him, he felt a gnawing in his belly that told him he hadn’t taken the time to eat nearly what his body was lacking.
He was three quarters of the way through a six pack of everything bagels and a tub of Philadelphia’s finest when his phone signaled the arrival of a text.
Mason was calling a meeting.
It wasn’t urgent, Raven still had a couple of hours, but it was mandatory. Raven tapped in a quick reply, then raised his thumb to click the phone off. Changing his mind, he pulled up a number and sent a quick text of his own.
Where are you? The bed is too cold without you.
The response was immediate. I’m on my way.
Raven sighed and rubbed his arms to get the blood circulating. He’d spent months in this suite, stomping around, angry at the world, missing her but too stubborn to admit it. Too angry to let go of the things he couldn’t change: his actions, her actions. None of which mattered in the here and now.
What did matter? He’d lived in this apartment for more years than he cared to count, and he’d never had close friends, not until Jessica happened into his life. He’d never wanted company, certainly never needed it. As his eyes drifted through the room, at places she’d sat, the things she had touched, he realized something. The past few months had been the loneliest of his entire life.
Even with Nox drifting in and out, a nearly constant—though rarely welcome—companion, his life had been completely empty, a void that nothing, no one could fill.
No one but her.
He sensed her before she reached the door, the rhythm of her heart beating in his own chest, the air she breathed filling his lungs, giving him life.
When she stepped through the door, he was waiting, and he swept her into his arms and held her like his very life depended upon it.
Truth of it was, it did.
Chapter Ninety-Two
T he conversation between Mason and the Clowder’s Overlord had been tense. Harrier had sat in on the call, at Mason’s behest, and it was one of the most uncomfortable situations he’d ever been in.
After a lot of posturing and back and forth blame-laying, it was determined that the Vampires had fulfilled their end of the bargain by providing Nox, and through him Raven, to the cats to undergo their punishment ritual.
It was also determined that the cats had reneged on their end on so many levels it was a wonder there wasn’t a war breaking out between their races.
However, Mason being Mason, he was willing to let the situation lie, provided the Clowder give the Vampires access to the girl who had caused all the trouble.
And that was how Harrier came to be sitting in the Hummer with Rachel and Nox in front of the Overlord’s home.
Talk about uncomfortable. The tension in the vehicle was so thick you’d need a broadsword to cut through it. Something was going on between Rachel and Nox, but Rachel had thrown up so many shields Harrier wouldn’t be able to get anything from her if he tried. What he did know was that the two were not speaking and were taking great pains not to look at one another. Nox actually growled at Rachel on the outset of their journey, and all Rachel had done was to ask after his health. Harrier had taken exception to that, and one look had the male backing down, as he should.
Whatever had happened between the two, there was no room for it now. They needed to get inside that little cat’s head and find out what she’d been thinking when she broke about a dozen Clowder laws.
And thinking about that frustrating little cat was all of why Harrier hadn’t bothered to forge a peace between his sister and Raven’s twin.
Harrier exited the Hummer and strode to the front door. The Overlord’s house was smaller than he’d thought it would be. It sat at the end of a lane that split from the parking area near the barn where all this trouble had begun.
Rachel was right behind him, but Nox remained in the vehicle until they had a chance to warn Kitty of what was about to happen.
Harrier knocked on the door, and the Overlord, himself, answered.
“Harrier, thank you for coming,” the Shifter said, as he waved them inside. “I’m sorry, madam. I don’t recall your name.”
“I’m Rachel.” She stuck her hand out for the man to shake, and they all moved into the living room. Kitty was sitting on the edge of a stiff-looking couch, her father standing behind her, white-knuckling the sofa’s back.
“Seamus, Kythryn, you remember Harrier and Rachel?”
A flush painted Seamus’ face, and he mumbled a greeting to the floor.
Kitty, though, she looked right at Harrier, with her back straight, shoulders squared, and steel in her eyes.
“Seamus?” The Overlord said, prompting some predetermined speech, Harrier figured. He wasn’t wrong.
The man finally looked at Rachel and after a couple of fortifying breaths said, “Miss Rachel. I’m so sorry for putting a knife to your neck. I feared for my daughter’s safety and I reacted without thinking. I hope you can accept my apology.”
His voice was mechanical, the words rote, but Rachel was ever gracious. “I do,” she said as she moved to stand in front of father and daughter. “There was a lot going on, and I understand the need to protect. I may have done the same, were the roles reversed. May I sit?” she asked, indicating the cushion next to Kythryn.
Kitty shrugged and Rachel sat beside her, placing a hand on the girl’s arm.
“Kythryn, we need your help. We believe that you were not acting of your own accord when you attacked Nox. Can you tell us what you remember from that night and the day’s leading up to it?”
“Not much.” Kitty shrugged and glanced at Harrier. “Why’s he here again?”
Rachel smiled. “Mason thought it best I have a Warrior with me today, and Harrier seemed the best choice. He’s my brother.”
“Sorry ‘bout your luck,” Kitty muttered, and Harrier growled. His sister pretended not to have heard the insult, but she threw a warning glance his way, which Harrier thought was completely unfair.
“As I was saying.” Rachel shifted her attention back to the cat. “Can you tell us what you remember?”
“Not much,” Kitty said. “I know that I felt off for a couple of days. I tried to go the first night, you know, to get my licks in, but for some reason I couldn’t make myself do it. Same thing happened the second night, and that wasn’t like me. I should have been first in line, as Malcolm was family to me. My brother-in-law.
Harrier snorted, which drew a glare from Kitty before she went on with her story.
“Anyway, that third night, it was all I could think about. I wanted so bad to beat the shit out of that goddamned Vampire, no offense, but I just couldn’t do it. That’s when things got fuzzy. I don’t remember anything after that until that big idiot over there knocked me on my ass. It was like everybody had gone plum crazy, running around in a panic, and my dad was yelling at your brother to get off me. I had no idea it was all because of me.”
Kitty wrapped her arms around her middle as she finished up.
Rachel patted her shoulder again before asking, “Were you approached by anyone, a stranger, prior to the ritual’s first day?”
“Not that I know of,” Kitty said with a shrug, and a not-so-subtle shift in position that put her out of Rachel’s reach.
Rachel folded her hands in her lap and said, “Thank you Kythryn. Now, there’s just one more thing we need from you.”
Kitty looked at Rachel with those wary eyes of hers, the same look she’d given Harrier the night he’d found her skulking around Jessica’s place.
“What do you want?”
“There is someone waiting in the car. Someone who would be able to look inside your mind and tell if you have been compelled to act against your will.”
“He can see if I was brainwashed?”
“Something like that,” Rachel answered. “You might have a bit of a headache afterward, but if what we think has happened to you is true, then discovering it now will go a long way in restoring the peace between our races.”
Kitty glanced over her shoulder at her dad, and then turned to the Overlord, who gave a slight nod. With another shrug, she looked back at Rachel and said, “Okay, I guess I’m in. Who is this guy, anyway?”
Rachel’s eyes shifted to Harrier briefly before she answered.
“It’s Nox.”
; Chapter Ninety-Three
I walked into Raven’s suite, preoccupied by my visit with Nox. The things he’d told me, the request Mason had made of him? It was all bouncing around in my brain, taking up space I didn’t have to spare.
So, when I found myself enveloped in Raven’s arms, warm and strong and holding me so tight, I burst into tears. I didn’t deserve this kind of welcome. Not at all. While Nox blamed himself for so much of what had gone down the last few months, I couldn’t help but shoulder my share of the responsibility.
Losing Baby M was just the icing on one great big shit cake.
Baby M. I shouldn’t even be calling her that any more. She should have been Baby R all along.
Raven lifted me into his arms and carried me to that big, comfy sofa of his, sat with me on his lap so he could hold me tight, and he let me cry. I wrapped my arms around his neck, buried my face in his shirt, and took comfort in the warmth of his breath tickling my shoulder.
I don’t know how long we held each other like that, but when I finally sat up enough to see my Vampire, there were bloody rivers etched into his face where he’d cried along with me. I’d like to say that made me feel better, but it didn’t.
“Did you eat anything?” I asked, not wanting to talk about the elephant in the room. Just wanting to be.
“I had some bagels,” he said, and I kissed him.
“Everything?” He nodded and I smiled a sad little smile. “My favorite.”
The corner of his mouth lifted ever-so-slightly, and I wondered how much of the grief I was feeling was mine and how much was coming to me from Raven.
When I looked at his face, really looked at it, I could see that it was a shared thing.
“You okay?” I asked, even though I knew he wasn’t.
“I am now.”
“Are you going to ravish me again?” I hoped mentioning our previous exploits would be enough to pull us both out of the doldrums.