Darkness Bound (A Night Prowler Novel)

by J. T. Geissinger

  “It’s already been done.” He felt as though he’d been swallowing rocks. His voice sounded like it emanated from the depths of a well. Pull yourself together! he screamed silently to himself. You knew Jacqueline would be leaving! You knew this would come!

  He just didn’t think it would be happening quite so soon. He began a serious discussion with himself about the merits of slitting his wrists versus saying or doing something to make the Queen turn him into a charcoal briquette, as she had with Weymouth, eventually deciding he deserved nothing more than to live a long and healthy life, alone, wallowing in his own misery.

  He deserved to suffer. How he could’ve gone along with the plan in the first place was making him too sick to even consider.

  Along with him and Morgan, all the other Assembly members and the Alphas from each colony had gathered in the Queen’s lavish new home. The tri-level structure was built around the trunk of a Brazil nut tree so large it would take ten men with outstretched arms to encircle its massive girth, and the tree grew right up through the center. Hawk and Morgan stood before Leander and Jenna, who were seated together on a cushioned settee in the main living area on the second floor. Though it was upward of eighty degrees, Jenna was wrapped in a thick blanket. The occasional shiver wracked her body, and Leander, beside her, looked tense and unhappy, as he watched her with a frown.

  As they were rocked listlessly by Olivia Sutherland, whose haunted eyes stared out of a wan face, the twins cooed happily in a bassinette nearby.

  “That’s what prompted his challenge against the Alpha.” Morgan shot Hawk a sympathetic look. “He refused to turn over the pictures to Alejandro when ordered to do so. He’s become very . . . fond of Jacqueline.”

  Fond.

  Hawk closed his eyes. He wasn’t fond of her. He was balls-out, soul searingly, madly in love with her. And she didn’t even remember him. And she was leaving tomorrow.

  What a bitch Fate turned out to be.

  He opened his eyes to find the Queen staring wide-eyed at him. “Your challenge was prompted by your fondness for a woman who argued we should all be exterminated?”

  Put that way, it did sound less than reasonable. “Given enough evidence that their prejudice is unfounded, people can change.”

  She studied him. “True enough. And you think you changed her?”

  He said gruffly, “We changed each other. She wasn’t the only one with stupid ideas.”

  There was a long, weighted pause while the Queen examined his face. “When I asked you to stand down, you said that you’d never stand down to the man who hurt your woman. I’d like you to explain that. How did Alejandro hurt her? How did you grow to become so . . . protective of her?”

  So Hawk told the story. He began at the very beginning and told it through to the end, leaving nothing out, including Jacqueline’s memory loss.

  When he finished speaking, the Queen closed her eyes and exhaled a long, heavy breath. “So you’re in love.”

  Scoffs and chuckles and gasps of horror rose from around the room. Hawk went rigid with anger. He said between clenched teeth, “I don’t care that it’s forbidden! You can give me as many lashes as you want and it won’t change my—”

  “Forbidden! Oh for God’s sake, that stupid rule has caused more misery!” she interrupted, cross. She pointed at her chest. “Did you know that my mother was human? And my father was Alpha—and he was put to death for loving her?”

  Everyone knew that. Her father was the most powerful Alpha ever, the Skinwalker himself. His treason was the stuff of legend. Hawk nodded.

  “And did you know that I grew up on the run, hiding, hunted, until the day my father was taken away—and after that my mother drank herself to death? And after that I was alone and scared and even more miserable than before?”

  Hawk opened his mouth, then shut it again. The room had become very quiet.

  “And my unborn nephew is a half-Blood, like me—should I sentence him to a lifetime of running and hiding? Of eventually watching one or both of his parents die, as I did?”

  “Nephew?” Hawk held very still, sure that whatever would next be spoken would have a monumental impact on them all.

  With an unhappy look as if this was a secret he’d rather not share, Leander explained, “My brother, Christian. He lives in Barcelona with his wife. His human wife. They’re expecting their first child.”

  Several soft gasps arose from behind Hawk. Clearly he wasn’t the only one floored by this information.

  Drawing herself tall, the Queen said, “Love is never forbidden, not as long as I’m in charge. I don’t care if you’re in love with a human woman or an Ikati male or a damn goat—love is love. The Law of single species mating is hereby abolished.”

  The silence that followed this statement was so profound Hawk’s heartbeat sounded like thunder in his ears.

  “And another thing. This whole Alpha business of fighting to the death—that’s so dumb it gives me a migraine! Why does everything have to be life or death? Where’s the common sense? Where’s the middle ground? Here’s an idea we’ve been far too slow to adopt: democracy. From now on, these contests will be decided by a vote from all the colony members. No one will be ruled without his or her consent.”

  A jolt of such shock went through Hawk that he felt as if he’d been electrocuted. Tension began to mount in the room. Men exchanged glances, there was a restless shuffling of feet. But the Queen wasn’t done yet.

  “And I’m abolishing corporal punishment. What you described about the punishment tree is . . . well, it’s disgusting, honestly. We’re done with all of that.”

  Amid the obvious shock this declaration caused, Leander drawled, “How do you propose we punish traitors and deserters, then, love? Shall we roast them alive instead?”

  A flush of color rose in her pale cheeks. “We won’t have to,” she said quietly. “Because there won’t be any more traitors and deserters. From now on everyone is free to go.”

  Into the stunned hush, LeBlanc, the Alpha from Quebec, said politely, “Excuse me, Your Highness?”

  Jenna rose. She looked around the room, her gaze settling on each person in turn. In a strong, clear voice, she said, “Anyone who wants to leave this colony, can. They won’t be apprehended, or punished. There will be no retaliation for leaving, or living among humans, or breeding with them. All the old Laws designed to keep us safe and hidden have failed. We don’t need them anymore. If we’re going to survive, we need to adapt.” She paused, took a deep breath, and said, “We’re not going to hide anymore. We’re going to fight.”

  “Fight?” Leander jolted to his feet, radiating tension.

  Jenna turned to him. Her eyes were vivid with anger, the set of her jaw was hard. “They know we’re here, the Expurgari and Section Thirty, most likely the rest of the world. Caesar clued them in because Weymouth clued him in. I don’t know how soon they’ll strike, but I know one thing . . . I’m not running away from them. In fact, I’m in the mood to kick some serious ass.”

  Hearing this, Hawk endured a moment of scalding fury, chased by a sense of loss so deep it felt bottomless. All the years, all the long centuries of hiding, all the sacrifices made in the name of safety, undone by a single weak link in the chain. By one traitor, whispering words into the ear of the enemy.

  The room erupted into cries of disbelief and anger, shock prickling the air, but Hawk could only stare at the floor, dumb with hate. He was sorry now the Queen had roasted Weymouth; the need for revenge was a pulse of heat in his palms, a drumbeat in his blood.

  Eventually the tumult died. The Queen assured everyone she’d hold a proper meeting in the morning, after they’d all rested, and plans would be made. When the last of the crowd had filed from the room, he was still standing in his posture of defeat, staring blankly at nothing.

  He heard a gentle voice say his name. He looked up to find Jenna
staring at him from across the room with something like concern. “You’ll want to leave with the reporter, I suppose.”

  In a voice low and dangerous, Leander said, “This is madness, Jenna.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Such is life. If our end is here, if that’s what’s meant to happen, so be it. We’re all on a ticking clock, and life in a cage isn’t a life worth living.”

  “You sound like Morgan!” he exploded, but his wife remained calm as morning.

  “Thank you.”

  “It wasn’t a compliment! This isn’t only about us! About our safety, our future! What about the girls?”

  She sent him a look that would have had Hawk’s testicles shrinking up into his abdomen. But Leander was apparently a stronger man than he; he didn’t even flinch.

  “This is for the girls. For their future. So they don’t have to grow up like I did.”

  “But how in God’s name are we supposed to protect them from—”

  “The children can protect themselves.”

  Hawk looked up, arrested by the odd note in the voice that had spoken.

  It was Olivia Sutherland; she hadn’t left with the others. She stared down into the bassinette by her side with the strangest combination of awe, affection, and fear. She glanced up, looked between Jenna and Leander, and finally let her haunted gaze rest on Jenna. She whispered, “You know that.”

  Leander looked confused. Jenna stood, walked slowly to the waist-high railing that spanned the perimeter of the room, brushed aside a gauzy curtain, and stared off silently into the starry, humid night.

  “What do you mean?” demanded Leander, striding to the bassinette. Two pairs of small white arms waved in the air as the twins reached for their father. He lowered his hand into the crib and stroked their faces, cupped four tiny hands within the broad expanse of his palm.

  Without turning from the view, Jenna said, “They took your Gifts.”

  Olivia answered, “Yes.”

  “What?” said Hawk and Leander in unison.

  Jenna passed a hand over her face, inhaled a heavy breath, then squared her shoulders. She turned to face them. “I think it’s one of their Gifts. They can absorb the Gifts of others, at least while they’re in close contact. Physical contact. During the pregnancy . . . then breastfeeding . . .” her gaze flicked to Olivia, who nodded.

  Slowly, Leander withdrew his hand from the bassinette and let it fall to his side. He lifted his gaze to Jenna, his body still as stone. “They can feed on us? Like . . .” He swallowed, leaving the word unsaid.

  Vampires.

  Jenna walked toward him with a muted rustle of fabric, trailing the blanket behind her like the train of a wedding gown. “I realized tonight that my Gift of Sight was back. When I touched Weymouth, I Saw all his plans, all his lies. I knew them already from my visit to Caesar, what they’d been up to, but . . .” she trailed off to silence. After a moment, she said, “And the only difference was that I hadn’t breastfed the twins for days.”

  “Why haven’t they done it with me?” Leander murmured, looking back at the girls.

  Jenna said, “I don’t know. Maybe we should ask them.”

  “Do they speak to you, too?”

  Olivia spoke in a tone of such hushed fervor it raised all the hair on the back of Hawk’s neck.

  Speak? he thought, horrified. Infants? Babies? Speak?

  He and Leander stared at Olivia in shock, while Jenna remained silent, her gaze on the bassinette.

  “They also go into my dreams,” Olivia continued, her eyes glazed with fatigue. Her hands had begun to shake, and as she wrung them together, her gaze darted around the room as if she were looking for something lurking in the shadows. Past his horror, Hawk wondered how long it had been since she’d slept.

  Leander whispered, “Dreamwalkers?”

  “I think they’ve been trying to tell me that something bad is coming. Something catastrophic. And they . . . and they’re going to . . .” Olivia faltered, glancing back to the bassinette. She wrapped her arms around her body, closed her eyes, and began to rock back and forth as if trying to comfort herself. As if deeply frightened.

  Jenna touched Leander’s arm, watching Olivia. She said, “We’re all tired. This can wait until morning. Grayson left with the others; will you see she gets home safely?” Her husband looked shell-shocked as he glanced down into the crib then back at Jenna in mute dismay.

  “Please,” she said, when he still hesitated. “I’d like to talk to Hawk alone. Just for a moment.”

  Leander’s expression transformed from dismayed to murderous. He sent Hawk a stare that could have frozen molten lava. It was crystal clear what he thought of this idea.

  Jenna lifted a hand and stroked her fingers lightly down Leander’s cheek. He turned his attention back to her and she smiled up at him. “I missed you, too,” she murmured, then rose on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into a tight hug.

  Hawk looked away, but heard what Leander whispered into his wife’s ear.

  “Five minutes, woman. When I get back, you’d better be waiting in bed. And you’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

  He released her, crossed to Olivia, and took her gently by the arm. He led her from the room, stopping briefly at the top of the curved stairway to give Jenna a last, lingering look before leaving.

  He sent Hawk a last look, too, this one not nearly as nice.

  When he was gone, Jenna collapsed onto the settee. She crumpled boneless to the cushions as if it had taken all her strength to remain standing until now, and her knees could no longer support her weight.

  Hawk leapt into motion and went to her. “Your Highness—”

  “I’m fine,” she said, waving him away. Unconvinced, he squatted on the floor in front of her, ready to assist in any way he could. Her head was in her hands, and through her fingers and a curtain of golden hair, she peeked at him. “And you don’t have to call me that. In fact, I insist you don’t. It’s so . . . pretentious.” She sighed, a heavy exhalation accompanied by a shudder, and Hawk thought he’d never seen anyone so weighted, her thoughts and responsibilities and the looming threat of war wrapped around her shoulders like a mantle made of stone.

  “What would you like me to call you, then?”

  She sat up, and pushed her hair out of her face. “She Who Must Be Obeyed.”

  Though her expression was solemn, her green eyes twinkled as she spoke, and Hawk realized she was teasing him.

  “I know several bossy females who’d appreciate being called that,” he said in utter seriousness, and the Queen’s lips curled.

  “Bossy?” she said with arched brows. “Aren’t you the brave one?”

  “No, just exceptionally stupid.”

  She laughed at that, and for a moment the weight seemed to lift from her shoulders. “Yes, that’s the testosterone. But we ‘females’ have to deal with estrogen, which makes us a little crazy.”

  “Actually I think it makes you tough,” he replied, all humor gone. “Tougher than we are because you feel things even more deeply than we do, and if I had to feel anything more deeply than I already do, I’d probably throw myself off a cliff. Strike that—I would throw myself off a cliff. I don’t know how you handle it.”

  She peered at him, trying to ascertain if he was mocking her. Apparently satisfied he wasn’t, she patted the cushion beside her, inviting him to sit.

  He did. They sat in awkward silence for a moment, staring at one another. When the silence grew too uncomfortable, Hawk said, “I hope you’re not trying to debate whether to take your dragon form and bite off my head. I could probably survive without it, seeing how I hardly ever use it, but I’ve gotten used to having it around. I’m sentimental that way.”

  “Humor,” she said, “is something I’ve really missed. Consider your head s
afe.” She amended, “For the moment.”

  Unsure whether she was now teasing him or not, Hawk simply inclined his head.

  After another uncomfortable pause wherein she examined his face in such a way that made him feel almost naked, she said quietly, “It’s not easy, is it?”

  “Life?”

  “Love.”

  He looked away, dragging a hand through his hair. Not easy. That might be the understatement of the century. He didn’t want her to think him a coward, but he also didn’t have the energy to lie. And he didn’t think anything he said would make a damn bit of difference one way or another, so he just went with the truth.

  “I think . . . I think it might be the most terrible thing in the world.”

  “No. There’s something else that’s worse. But love is a close second.”

  He looked back at her to find her smiling at him, her eyes soft. She said, “Love is the most difficult journey you’ll ever embark upon, but the destination is worth all the horrible things you’ll experience during the trip. Don’t let the bumps and pitfalls scare you away from where you need to go. Hang in there until the bitter end. Believe me, I know from experience it’s worth every second of torture. One day you’ll look back and be glad for all you suffered, because the pain made the eventual joy all the more sweet.”

  Hawk looked away, his throat tight. She was wrong; there would be only suffering. There would be no joy, no sweetness, not for him and Jacqueline. “This is what you wanted to talk to me about? War is coming, extinction is looming over us, your babies are—whatever they are—and you’d like to hear about my personal life?”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw her sphinxlike smile. “I’m sentimental that way. So stop avoiding the subject and tell me why you’re so upset.”

  Upset didn’t begin to cover it. He closed his eyes, exhaled, and in a voice that cracked several times as he spoke said, “She doesn’t remember me. There is no destination anymore. There’s only a bridge that got burned down, and no way to rebuild it.”