Vowed
Page 32
Thorn knew that storming out of the tower was an over-reaction, even childish, but Odalis’s news was shocking and unexpected. He knew in theory he’d be expected to marry a bride of his family’s choosing, but the reality felt very different. And he hadn’t expected to meet her so soon – at the Midwinter Ball. He’d felt on edge for weeks, expecting something from his father, and this was it. He knew he was merely a pawn in a bigger game, and it made him bitter and short-tempered. The nightmares and fears filling his dreams in recent weeks had kept him strung out, always on the edge of an outburst. Odalis’s announcement was simply the final straw and he’d needed to get away.
The visions he fought so heavily during his lessons found their way into his sleep. He saw a war coming to the Otherwhere and at its centre sat the Blackhart family, besieged from all sides with just a handful of supporters.
The vision twisted him inside, because he knew Kit was at the heart of the unrest. She was in a world of danger and, try as he might, he just could not make sense of what he saw. She lay unconscious and bleeding on a stone altar, her hair longer than he remembered, streaming out in a ghost wind. She was dressed in unfamiliar armour that looked Fae made and her trusty sword lay broken beside her. The wolf lay in the shadows, its fur thick with blood, and panting with foam at its mouth.
And then the vision burst into flames. From them, a woman emerged, stately and ringed in fire. She looked directly at him and brought her finger to her lips, bidding him be quiet. Then he woke up screaming because he too was consumed in her fire.
It was these dreams that made him search the tower’s vast library, looking for answers. He scried, wading deeply into the power of the songlines and singing them awake. He opened doorways to the past and future, always seeking answers to what his dreams meant. Odalis knew nothing of this; he made sure of that.
What he found pointed to the ruins of the ancient fortress before him. So he was damned if he was going back to the tower before he found out its impossible secrets.
Chapter Forty-Six
‘So, I heard the shouting,’ Chem says as we walk out of the community centre ahead of everyone else. ‘Then it got really quiet. Did you hypnotize them or something?’
‘Dante did. He made them all fall in love with him.’ I grin wickedly. ‘Right?’
Dante grumbles under his breath as he tugs his jacket back on. ‘It’s really hard concentrating when you know you don’t look like you.’
Chem looks confused but he holds up both hands. ‘Look, I don’t care what happened in there. My nan called. I need to get home. You guys okay? You on top of this?’
‘We are, yes,’ I assure him before he jogs off.
Dante heaves a sigh and his breath plumes in front of his face in the frosty air. ‘I feel exhausted,’ he says. ‘How do the Fae keep their glamour up in the human world?’
‘I don’t know. But you’ve been doing a good job. Can you maybe just, I don’t know, tone all of it down a bit? You’re being super distracting.’
He twists towards me and his lips curve – oh so enticingly. I take a step back from him. ‘No, I’m not even joking, Dante. If you come near me I’m going to whack you in the head with my iron stick.’
‘So violent,’ he says but he looks away, pressing fingers across the bridge of his nose. ‘Give me a few minutes to figure this out.’
I turn and watch the handful of people walk back to their homes, their steps slow. A few of the women look out for Dante in the darkness. One of the men, younger than the rest, stops and lights a cigarette in order to stare at him for a minute or two, before clearly coming to some decision and walking off behind the rest.
Once Dante has himself under control (never a good thing when you want to lick your friend’s face), we’re heading to Milton’s to confront Torsten.
At my core I know I shouldn’t be surprised at the truth behind the children’s disappearances. A logical part of me understands that, although the Blackharts do their utmost to right wrongs, some things slip us by. Especially when they’ve been carefully hidden under layers of deceit, outright lies and Fae machinations that are centuries old.
At least we’ve finally discovered the link between the missing children and the estate. The key is the land – or rather who the land belonged to. It all goes back to the Saxon lord Brixi, plus his housecarls and their extensive holdings. They have somehow maintained their centuries-long grip on Brixi’s estates, and its inhabitants still owe them a tithe of their own children. Not that we know why – yet. As for the link between the children and the music festival – we’re still looking on that one.
I believe Suola knew what she was doing when she decided to interfere here. There are depths to the case that I’m not sure I fully understand.
I shiver in the cold air and dig deeper into my coat, pulling it more tightly around me and shoot a look at where Dante’s pacing and muttering to himself.
The estate isn’t quiet, not by a long shot. Music and the sounds of an argument carry on the wind towards us. The music is dub-step with a heavy bass line and I hum it under my breath, drumming my fingers inside my pockets. Then the tune changes to something darker and Thorn’s lullaby wraps itself around me. It takes a few bars for me to realize what I’m humming and I stop short in fright, making it Dante’s turn to look at me.
‘You okay?’ he calls out softly.
‘No, can we go?’ I don’t wait for him to answer and instead just walk past him, exerting a great amount of will not to sway towards him. Right now I don’t want to appear vulnerable. I need to be tough and in charge of my own mind. Without conscious thought, I tighten the wall of magic between us as I walk back down towards the car. I start it up and wait for Dante to get in.
‘Are we ready?’ he asks, as he buckles himself in.
‘No, but neither is Torsten, I think.’
Vauxhall isn’t that far and we make it in a decent amount of time. I park a few blocks away and we walk slowly along the darkened street to the club’s main entrance. Rorke’s solid presence before the club’s large vaulted doors reassures me that some things are still as they should be.
‘You here to make trouble, Blackhart?’ His voice is a deep rumble but there’s humour there. He stands a bit straighter when he sees my serious expression and notices the pommel of my sword over my shoulder. He glances at Dante then back at me. ‘I’m half inclined not to let you in.’
‘You don’t have to,’ I say. ‘We just need to speak to Torsten. It’s business.’
There are about twenty people in the queue waiting for Rorke to notice them and let them into the club, but he’s paying them no attention at all. One of the girls in the queue, a pretty blonde girl with incredible legs and huge chocolate-brown eyes leans out to ogle Dante. Her friend grabs her just in time to prevent her from leaning too far and falling on her butt. Dante turns to look at her briefly before turning to look back to Rorke, who’s not moved to let us pass.
‘Is this Suola’s business?’ Rorke looks worried now. ‘The Beast’s been in every night since she came here to see you. He sits upstairs and just waits.’
‘Is he here tonight?’
‘Not yet. It’s too early. After midnight, usually.’
‘Do you know what he’s waiting for?’
Rorke shakes his head. ‘He orders a drink and that’s it. He hardly touches it. People come and go, leaving gifts for him to take to Suola and he barely acknowledges them. He’s freaking everyone out. Especially Miron.’
‘Does he speak to anyone?’
Before Rorke can answer Dante’s question, someone from the queue calls out impatiently. ‘Hey, come on! It’s cold and we want to get in before dawn, mate. Can you chat to your friends after you’ve let us in?’
The guy who spoke is severely under-dressed, even for Milton’s. He blanches as both Rorke and Dante turn to look at him with savage intent.
‘I will let you in as and when I like,’ Rorke says with a smile that holds far too many teeth to be comf
ortable viewing. ‘And right now? I don’t like. So stand there and keep that girl from passing out. What’s wrong with her, anyway?’ He shakes his head. ‘Youth of today. No stamina.’
Dante mutters something I can’t hear; his attention is focused on the girl who’s being held up by her friends, and I become aware of his magic pressing up against me. It fizzes against my own and I feed more energy into my shield, locking it down, but even so there’s a need to do bad things to my partner.
Dante gives me a haunted look before he leaves my side to stalk towards the girl. She looks up and her eyes go wide, her tongue flicking nervously across her lower lip, as if anticipating a kiss. She whimpers as she tries to straighten up and her friend curses roundly as she’s pushed away by her. But the girl’s not the only one who finds Dante interesting. The guy who spoke up, Mister Tightpants, reaches out a hand and trails it along Dante’s arm as he passes, staring after him with a look of longing on his face.
‘Is she okay?’ Dante asks the blonde’s friend, who seems stricken with numb-tongue. ‘What’s wrong with her?’
The blonde straightens so that she can look up at Dante. Her reaction is immediate – somehow reminiscent of a flower that had grown in darkness, then was exposed to sun for the first time. The smile that curves across her full red lips is both dazzled and hungry. She shakes off her friend and presses herself up against Dante so that there’s no light visible between their touching bodies. Her hand curls up around his neck, into his hair, and she stands on tiptoe to reach his lips with hers.
‘What the hell?’ Rorke asks me, turning to the display of wantonness on his doorstep. ‘Is he just kissing some random girl?’
‘Dante isn’t . . .’ I take a deep breath. ‘Dante is having a problem controlling this new gift of his,’ I finish lamely. ‘It’s making for interesting times at the moment.’
‘Gift?’ Rorke’s grey eyes flash dangerously. ‘When you’ve finished talking to Torsten, this is a story I want to hear.’ He walks over to where Dante has the girl pressed up against the wall, his head bent over hers. I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure he’s not kissing her. Instead it looks as if he’s talking to her and she’s clinging to him like a drunken sailor would hang on to a last bit of flotsam before being swept into the sea.
Rorke grabs Dante by the collar and literally pulls him off the girl. The girl reaches blindly for him but her friend’s there and grabs hold of her instead. Rorke says something and his tone is dark, utterly pissed off. He makes a gesture and one of the black taxis that’s always parked nearby drives up. The two girls climb into the back and Rorke speaks to the driver. I see money change hands and the taxi speeds off into the night. Rorke, still holding on to Dante, walks him back towards me with his large hand now pressed between my partner’s shoulders.
Dante looks feverish and he’s shaking. His eyes are wild and he can’t seem to decide what to do with his hands. Static energy is coming off him to which Rorke seems completely oblivious. The few people left in the queue now seem far more interested in watching what we’re doing than trying to get into the club.
‘Get him under control. I can’t let you into the club if he can’t act responsibly. That poor girl’s going to be sick for days.’ He scowls heavily. ‘Bloody sirens – you have no business bringing someone who can’t control themselves to the club, Kit. What were you thinking?’ Rorke turns back to the queue and gestures for the first five people to make their way in. The door opens and the heavy bass escapes into the air before it’s shut off again.
‘Go around the back and I’ll get Torsten sent out to you. We’ve got two DJs playing tonight. Torsten is due to be on later. Miron is seriously not going to like this.’
I lead Dante to the narrow street next to the club. It’s dark and shadowy here but it doesn’t smell too bad. There are no overflowing bins or urine aroma, which is a relief. I find a crate and prop Dante on it.
‘What the hell?’ I ask him, hunkering next to him. ‘Dante?’
‘I’m so sorry, Kit. I can’t think straight.’ He turns the full weight of his heavy gaze on me and I feel the incredible pull of his eyes. My magic shifts uncomfortably under my skin and I anchor myself, concentrating on the remnants of Thorn’s lullaby still echoing in my mind. It helps, but only slightly, because a part of me is desperate to give in to the urge inside me to just lean in and kiss Dante. The air is thick with his scent – pheromones, I know that now, but it doesn’t matter – and I remember how good it felt just being pressed up against him, how hot his hands felt when they came to rest on the bare skin of my back.
‘You have to control this, Dante.’ I stand up with the utmost reluctance. I even manage to put a step between us. One more. I’ve got my magic running interference, but what must that poor girl have felt when he had her up against the wall? What did he say to her? I saw the naked want on her face when her friend managed to pull her away, and had felt sympathy but also relief that I didn’t have to witness anything further. I wonder why Rorke didn’t seem perturbed that Dante no longer seemed human. But then Rorke’s been the doorman at Milton’s for a long time and has, no doubt, seen a great many things that would still shock little old me.
Chapter Forty-Seven
‘I thought I did,’ Dante says, watching me with shadowed eyes. ‘I thought I had a grip on it. Then I looked at that girl and could read all of her. I knew her deepest longings and needs. It felt as if someone else had taken control and told me I just had to go and talk to her and make her smile. Then she touched me and I felt myself falling into deep water and I couldn’t think straight.’ He scrubs his hands through his hair. ‘It was like I could only breathe when I touched her.’
His voice is raw as he speaks and I feel sorry for him, but only up to a point.
‘You felt her need?’ I can’t help the disbelief and annoyance in my voice. ‘Seriously? You practically maul a girl who’s been influenced by your magic and you say it’s because you felt her need? That is seriously screwed up, Dante.’
‘Look, I’m trying to explain all of this to you. I’m scared because this is new and it’s frightening and I don’t know what’s going on with me. I walked past those people in the line waiting to get in and I somehow knew what every single one of them wanted the most. It was as if they were whispering into my mind. That girl? She’s so lonely in a world that scares her. She wants someone to take care of her. Every night she goes home to an empty flat and sits in the darkness feeling lost and alone. Today is her birthday. She wanted a kiss from a hot boy, something to make her feel alive. It was like she was screaming at the top of her lungs. I had to calm her down somehow because I couldn’t think otherwise.’ He grimaces at my heavy look of disgust and disbelief. ‘What makes it even worse is trying to explain it because I sound psycho. I see you watching me with those big eyes and can see your distaste – I wish there was a way to make you see I’m telling the truth.’ He’s breathing as if he’s just run a marathon. ‘Do you think I want this? To know that when I look at you, I feel inappropriate things and remember how great you smell. But mostly I remember how incredible it felt having you pressed up against me – and I have to pretend it didn’t happen because you’re too young and I’m older and I’m not really me any more.’ His smile is savage and the look he gives me is white hot with anger and regret. ‘But you want to know what makes all of this even worse? It’s knowing you’re my friend, that the memory I have of you in my arms is a lie because you would never want me in that way. I listen to you, that part inside you that you don’t even want to listen to and, you know who I see there? Thorn, some guy I’ve never met, and I know that he’s the one you really want. So what happened between us really has nothing to do with me but with whatever the thing is I’m becoming. This weird hybrid thing that attracts people but repels you.’ He clenches his hands as he slumps on the crate. ‘I’ve never been so conflicted about who I am and what I want in all my life. How could everything be okay one day and so fucked up the next?’
‘Dante? Things are really screwed up right now. I’m worried about you but I need you to keep it together until we’ve got this thing with Torsten sorted, okay?’ I crouch down next to him so I can look into his veiled eyes. ‘But to clear the air, let me just say this: I find you seriously hot. I wanted to kiss you even before the fever and you became a faerie sex god.’ His lips curve attractively at my words and his breathing slows a little. ‘And you’re right. I fell for a boy a while ago when things were crazy and, although I think you’re cute, you’re just not him. But even so, nothing can come of me having feelings for this other boy. It’s unnatural and forbidden for us to be together in a romantic way. But he is still my friend and I worry about him a lot. What you and I have . . . I don’t know. I’m sorry I’m younger than you but that’s not my fault and it’s not yours, so maybe we both need to just get over it till after we’ve got this all wrapped up. I don’t want to lose you as a friend and partner in this. You put up with my crap and listen to my mad ideas without too much judgement.’ I grin. ‘Also, it helps that you can walk into a room and make people tell you stuff just by being cute.’
‘Oh, Kit . . .’ He tangles his fingers with mine and stands to face me. ‘You’re possibly one of the best things that’s happened to me in a long time.’
The sound of slow applause makes us both turn. A figure stands at the end of the alleyway and I have to squint to make him out.
‘What a cute little scene.’ Torsten steps towards us until he’s in a puddle of light. He’s dressed in super-skinny black jeans, combat boots and a T-shirt emblazoned with a burning skull. Something moves at his feet and the sound of scurrying reaches my ears. Rats.