“If I’m such a bastard, why the hell aren’t you dead?”
“I asked you first.” Thank God, her voice held steady. She swallowed to ease her tight throat.
“If you believed everything in your precious annals, you wouldn’t risk challenging me. Yes, I’m Griffin Rhys Dare.”
Val’s heart thudded in her throat. He’d just confirmed her guess. Yet she was, for whatever reason, still alive.
“What do you want with me?”
“I want you to listen. To consider evidence you haven’t seen before.”
“So you’re going to tell me you’re innocent? I’d expected better of you.”
He let out a weary sigh. “I’m not in league with the ghouls, and I never killed anyone I didn’t have to.”
The first part, she’d believe. But the second…“You’ll never convince me the mages who tried to apprehend you were ghoul allies.”
“Of course not.” He sounded sad.
If only she could believe he really was.
“They were trying to capture me. I was defending myself—and those who rely on me for protection.”
“Such as?” Impatient, Val shook her head. “Regardless, you should’ve come in, made your case, not slaughtered—”
“We’re not going there. Not tonight.” His cold, hard voice warned her not to press. “I brought you here to talk to you. To show you things you can’t see well enough now to read.”
“So you do have a jailhouse alibi.” That seemed beneath him, and his thinking her fool enough to buy it stung.
“I have the truth. If you’re willing to see it.”
“Right. What do you really want?”
A slight sound, not quite a sigh, came from him, as if he were hurt. Like he cared what she thought. Oh, he knew just how to play her.
“I want safety for our people,” he said, “and for the Mundanes, whether you believe me or not. Listening won’t cost you anything but a couple of days for your eyes to heal. What if I’m telling the truth, Valeria? What if there’s something rotten in the Collegium’s heart? Can you shrug off that possibility so easily?”
What was or wasn’t happening in the Collegium was her business, not his, but listening might help her better understand his angle. “I’ll hear you out, but you’ll have to explain right now.”
Fifteen minutes later, Griff set out the files on the kitchen bar. As soon as the salve had time to melt into Valeria’s eyes, he’d show her what he had. She seemed even less likely to believe him than he’d feared. Damn, but he was tired of running. Tired of fighting while innocents died anyway. Tired of winning little victories that changed nothing.
Convincing her could help unmask the traitor, give him his life back. It might even win Collegium help against whatever dark rite the ghouls planned. He’d told his team to take and interrogate a ghoul prisoner. But the Collegium mages, with their numbers, could work a lot faster.
“Dare?” She stood hesitantly in the bedroom doorway.
His shirt hung down to her midthigh, covering the bandages there but hiding little of her long, trim legs. His blood stirred, and his denim cutoffs did nothing to hide his reaction. At least she couldn’t see it.
“Bar straight ahead,” he said. “About ten or twelve feet, but let me help you.” He’d best remember the formidable power she was recovering by the minute, and not let the sex-kitten look distract him. He could find sex in any bar. What he needed from her was belief and support.
He needed them deeply, he realized.
With one hand outstretched, she took a careful step.
“Wait.” He hurried to her right side. “Give me your hand.”
She bit her lip but held out her right hand. When he tucked it into the crook of his elbow, his heartbeat kicked up a notch. He hadn’t had a woman’s hand in his arm in years.
The trust in the gesture, however reluctant, jabbed his soul with guilt. She didn’t deserve a memory blank, but if she wouldn’t believe him, he’d have no choice. He carried too many people’s secrets to let her go with the knowledge she was about to gain.
He led Valeria to the bar and seated her in front of the folders. “Wait while I fix the lights.”
Twilight had turned to night. With indirect light, her eyes might tolerate the air and the brightness enough for her to read. He snapped on the light in the stove hood. It cast a faint glow over the papers. It would have to do.
The slight tilt of her head implied she followed his barefooted progress around the room. When he stood beside her, she reached up to the bandages. “Now?” she asked.
“Don’t open your eyes right away.” He helped her remove the linen strips and cloth pads and set them on the bar within easy reach. “The stove light is on, to your left across the bar. Don’t look directly at it.”
“Understood.” She turned right, toward him, and slowly opened her eyes. Something he couldn’t read flickered in them and vanished. Bloodshot but now discernibly hazel, they regarded him intently.
His mouth went desert dry. Having her this close, looking at him so directly…if he leaned in, he could taste that ripe mouth, trace the long line of her neck, test the weight of her breasts. His body hardened, and he wrenched his gaze away.
The judgment behind those hazel eyes mattered far more than her looks. Her choice here could help their people, maybe even give him a future.
“Do you know why I left the Collegium?”
“You claimed Chief Councilor Milt Alden was in league with ghouls.” She squinted, as though protecting her eyes from the air, but her gaze took on probing intensity. “But there was no proof.”
“There was circumstantial evidence. As well as my word, for all the good that did.” Was that doubt in her eyes? “Damn it, I’d earned some credibility.”
“I’ll grant you that, but—”
Power blasted through his perimeter wards with the sick wrench inside his head that signaled ghoul magic. Fuck.
“Shield,” he snapped, but he flung his own barrier around her in case she hadn’t recovered enough. Dropping the ward around his staff, he summoned it. It struck his palm with a reassuring smack, its end caps and runes glowing.
Valeria slid from the stool. “Dare—”
One impact on his wards, one breach. Two. Three. Four. Five—
A roar shook the building. As he and Valeria fell, he snatched her close with his free arm, twisting to take the brunt of the fall. Then he rolled her under him for extra protection. Dust and fragments of brick showered down on his personal shields. At least she had the good sense not to struggle.
The building stopped shaking, but screams came from below. Terrified cries. Shit. He had to go.
Valeria had grabbed his shoulders. Releasing them, she said, “Thanks. What was that?”
“Ghouls.” He pushed himself to his feet and gave her a hand up. “I’ve made a lot of trouble for them. This isn’t the first time they’ve hunted me.” Bringing her here, though, might’ve left a magic trail for them to follow.
She tensed, rubbing her eyes carefully. “How many?”
“Too many.”
He’d lost count but knew more had come in. A wave of his hand released the extra wards around the loft, the ones that kept her in. She could escape, and others could enter, but he couldn’t sustain those wards and fight, too.
The terrified shrieks from below continued. Something crashed.
“I have to help the people downstairs, but you should be safe up here.” If he could keep the ghouls away from the stairs.
She squinted against the light. “There are Mundanes here?” At his nod, she added, “I can help you. Give me my sword.”
“No way.” She might run. Or, once the ghouls were beaten, turn on him. He didn’t want to have to fight her.
“I promised you a hearing.” She grabbed his hand, opening to his magic. “If you want me to trust you, then you have to trust me.”
Honesty flowed in the touch, and his breath caught at the hope it offered. He dro
pped the concealment on her weapon. Light shimmered in the corner, revealing the sword.
“For self-defense,” he said. “I’m trusting you, and I need you safe. So wait here.” He wheeled toward the door.
“Be careful,” she called after him.
Surprised, he nodded and banged the door behind him. A jump took him to the stairwell landing. Below lay the corridor between the old manufacturing and storage areas.
As he leaped for the ground floor, a brown-gold blast of pure power sliced through the air. He tucked as he landed, and rolled under the sizzling beam. On his feet again, he swung his staff like an ax through the shields of the blond, voluptuous ghoul who’d launched the bolt, smashing his weapon into her gut. The woman staggered backward. Her shields dissolved.
Behind him, masonry bits and dust blew from the brick wall where the blast struck. Debris rained down on his shield and disintegrated with faint pffft noises. He rammed one silver-shod end of the staff into the ghoul’s forehead. “Morere,” he snapped to make sure.
Dead, she fell. Leaping over her, he drew energy from the swamp outside. Screams came from the old manufacturing area. The coppery stench of blood.
Shit. He had to get his people out. He careened around the corner, into the former workroom, then tripped over someone’s leg. Old Maureen lay by the door, neck at a sick angle, sightless eyes staring upward, and his heart twisted.
A big male ghoul with a blond Mohawk charged toward him. Griff ducked, slammed the staff into the ghoul’s chest and fed in power. “Morere.”
Two down, about a dozen to go. Way too many. He channeled magic through the staff, blasted one ghoul. A widespread burst would hit a lot of them but not all, and would lower his power dangerously. He couldn’t recharge fast enough to make that a good bet.
Against the far wall, the two young runaways, Hector and Rosa, lay still, bleeding from throat wounds. Dying. The other men and women struggled to get themselves and their children to a gaping hole in the wall. They dodged ghouls, stumbled over broken furniture and dishes. He had to reach them, cover their retreat—
Behind him a ghoul approached. He pivoted to meet the threat, too late. Talons punched through his shield and raked across his back.
The floor vibrated. Screams and crashes rang in the air. Val reeled against the bar, her sword dragging on her arm like a battleship’s anchor. No way could she fight with it.
She laid the weapon down. She hadn’t even felt its presence earlier, a sign Dare was better than she’d realized. But nobody was good enough to take on a large group of ghouls alone, especially with Mundanes to protect.
He’d looked surprised, even wary, when she asked for his trust. That reaction had stung, but he’d probably be dead by now if he were less careful.
Fear for him knotted her gut. Traitor or not, he’d braved dangerous odds to save her. He was braving worse ones for those Mundanes now. She had to help him, give the Mundanes the best chance she could.
She drew energy from the swamp. New power coursed through her body, but more like a summer-dry creek than the torrent it should’ve been. It would just have to do.
The air burned her eyes, made them tear. She rubbed them carefully. Her vision was a little blurry, but she could see well enough to fight.
Magic roared through the building, a widespread burst. Dare wouldn’t risk that unless he was desperately outnumbered.
The fading magic of his blast skated across her skin, and she opened to it, drinking it in to quicken her own power and strengthen her. She couldn’t fully recharge until her wounds healed, but every bit helped. Val grabbed a butcher knife from the kitchen and sped down the stairs.
They ended in a corridor. A big, male ghoul staggered against a door frame to her right. The muddy whites of his eyes were filled with rage. He was huge, and she was so weak.
Fear gave her a jolt of adrenaline. Val charged. The ghoul swiped his talons at her face. She ducked and stabbed under his arm, punching power into the blade. “Morere.”
With a gurgled cry, he slumped, dying.
She yanked the blade free. Val jumped over a female ghoul’s stinking corpse, then a Mundane woman’s body, and ran into a wide room with high, narrow windows.
The air reeked of ammonia from dead ghouls. About a dozen bodies lay scattered amid jumbled furniture, broken crockery, and cardboard boxes. Eight were ghouls, their skin already turned faint green in death.
On the far side of the room, three big males stalked Dare. Bleeding gouges on his chest and arms had his blue T-shirt in shreds. Sweat poured down his face. He stumbled backward, haggard and too pale, shielding a little brown-haired girl. Sobbing, she scrambled behind him.
His strain to keep up his shield thrummed in his magic and felt like a drain in Val’s chest. Her heart plummeted. Translocating someone else you weren’t touching took far more power than shifting yourself. She was too weak to shift the child clear. So was Dare, or he would’ve already done it.
In seconds, the ghouls would corner him, but she could even the odds. Buy time for the girl to run.
Dare’s eyes met hers, and he gave her a slight shake of his head. Val ignored it.
Intent on him, the ghouls hadn’t noticed her. She crept up behind the nearest one, feeding power to the blade, and stabbed at his kidney. His shield deflected most of the blow. He spun around to face her.
Dare whipped his staff toward the male on the far end. The ghoul’s shielding blunted the hit, another sign of Dare’s fading power.
The ghoul facing Val had a shock of inky hair and a face that looked as though it’d been mashed together. With lightning speed, he whipped his bludgeon at her head. Only a leap backward carried her out of its crushing path.
The ghoul shot venom out of his talons. Shit. Ducking, Val pushed into a backward shoulder roll and evaded his swiping follow-up.
Heart pounding, she kicked out his right kneecap, but her power sputtered. Once more, maybe twice, she could punch through that kind of shielding. Then it would be game over.
He crumpled, bringing him level with her. She dived for him and flipped the knife into her left hand as her right forearm blocked his strike. She stabbed with all the power she could draw. “Morere,” she gasped, and the blade rammed home.
He shuddered and spat blood before going limp.
Panting, Val dragged herself to her feet and wiped her stinging eyes. Where was Dare?
There, jerking away from a scrawny, brown-haired male. The ghoul’s power blast struck Dare’s bloody chest and flung him backward. The staff flew from his hand as he hit the ground hard, with an agonized groan.
The ghoul darted past him, toward the screaming, scrambling child. The little girl tripped, but quickly pulled herself up and dodged a swipe of talons before darting between two cardboard boxes. The ghoul flung them aside, scattering clothes across the floor.
Stumbling toward them with her lungs aching and her heart in her throat, Val couldn’t reach either of them in time. She had nothing left, only the barest of shielding.
Dare was closer but so still. Had they killed— No, she realized with a gasp of relief as he groaned and pushed himself onto an elbow.
The ghoul cornered the child and loomed over her, extending talons.
“Dare!” Val screeched, pointing.
His head whipped around. His lips tightened. Then he was gone. Vanished.
A heartbeat later, he reappeared kneeling between the child and the ghoul, his body hunching over the tot, sheltering her as the talons swiped downward.
No! Val’s heart tore as the ghoul clawed new gouges in Griffin’s bleeding back. She gathered herself and leaped forward, driving her blade between the ghoul’s shoulders.
“Morere,” she gasped. He arched with the blow, reeled, and fell. Dead.
She twisted out of the way. No more ghouls, thank God. She couldn’t have done that again.
Fighting to breathe, aching all over, she blinked her stinging eyes clear and looked for Dare. He knelt a few feet bey
ond the body, shuddering in pain and bleeding from multiple wounds. He cradled the wailing child in his arms, a child with big, mournful eyes and shabby clothes.
He’d been willing to die for that little girl. If Val hadn’t reached them in time, he would have.
No traitor would take such a risk.
The Collegium annals contained only one side of the story. Dare had been a hero once, had acted like one now. Maybe there was more to his claims than she’d wanted to believe.
“Griffin?” She touched his shoulder gently, and his pain flashed through the sympathetic bonds of shared magic. Shaking with it, she managed, “They’re gone.”
He gave her a single jerky nod.
The sobbing child clung to him, tiny fingers digging into his arms. “Gray,” she wailed into his shoulder.
“Gray?” Val raised an eyebrow at him.
“Later.”
The child’s weight on his injured chest had to be torture, but he closed his arms around her. He even kissed her tangled hair. “It’s all right, Molly,” his voice rasped.
The child sobbed into his shoulder, and he patted her back absently. Above her head, his eyes scanned the disordered, stinking room.
“We’re clear,” Val said.
He studied her with a wary expression. “Good thing you didn’t leave.”
“I gave you my word.”
His eyes warmed, and one corner of his mouth crooked up. She couldn’t resist smiling back at him.
“Guess I have to trust you now,” he said. “I’m not used to it. Trusting, I mean.”
“I guess not.” And she shouldn’t trust him without reservation, but he was courageous, she had to give him that.
He’d changed from the man she remembered. His face was still handsome in a clean-cut way, with its strong jaw, high cheekbones, and straight nose, but he now looked more austere. More controlled. Shadowed by pain, his ocean-blue eyes scanned the room, alert for any danger. When he looked at her, though, the blue softened in a way that made her heart skip a beat.
He stared at her quizzically. “What? Did I grow an extra ear or something?”
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