She lifted a hand to his face, the skin to skin contact activating the bond, and he realized she was fighting tears. He tightened his hold on her.
You okay? he asked.
She nodded. Her power flowed over his neck, easing the pain. I can’t fix that altogether, it’s too deep, but—
It’s better. Thanks.
I need a minute. She scrubbed her face against his shoulder.
He kissed her temple and let his hand drift up her back. Holding her close, he gloried in the silken softness of her hair against his cheek. He’d avenged his dead and hers, and served justice once again.
Behind her, Stefan knelt, checking Blake’s carotid pulse. With a slight head shake, he rose. “Dead,” he confirmed.
“Griffin Dare’s accusation is upheld,” Gerry said to the watching crowd. “Justice has been served, and this proceeding is at an end.”
“Hey.” Stefan touched Griff’s shoulder lightly. “Let me see to those burns, check your leg.”
Valeria gave Griff a quick kiss and stepped aside.
Stefan set gentle hands on Griff’s neck. His eyes lost focus. “Fixable,” he murmured. “You knocked him back in time.” Healing energy flowed over the skin, repairing the damage, tingling in Griff’s nerve endings.
“Kinda blew confidentiality to hell when you told everybody about my powers,” Griff said.
“Not like it was a secret, not when Blake and his buddies already knew. And it won you some PR points.”
“Maybe.” But done was done, and Stefan had meant well.
Teresa DiMaggio, the weaponsmistress, Gerry Armitage, Joe Healey, and Dan Jacobs waited at the fringe of the group around Griff and Stefan. But most of the crowd filing out didn’t look at Griff. Those who did wore doubtful or disapproving expressions. Not a good sign. Not guilty, after all, did not mean innocent.
He couldn’t let his relationship with Valeria cost her any more than it already had. He owed her too much to let her tie herself to someone most mages still considered untrustworthy.
“That’ll hold you.” Stefan gripped his shoulder and shook him lightly. “You lucky bastard.”
“Not lucky.” Griff flashed him a grin. “Skilled.”
When Stefan moved aside, Dan Jacobs stood before Griff with tears in his eyes. Griff braced himself, but Dan thrust out his right hand. “I’m sorry about Mitch,” he said, “but Corin would have welcomed this day.”
“Thanks, Dan. That means more than I can say.”
“Congratulations, Griffin,” Teresa said, offering her hand to shake. “I can use your help training students.”
Griff thanked her. This was the last place he wanted to spend much time, but she meant well. So did Healey and Gerry, with handshakes and congratulations, though Healey’s were maybe political. Behind them came Darren Hale, the young mage he and Valeria had helped at Americus.
As they left, Will swept Griff into a bear hug. The next few minutes became a blur as his family and friends followed Will’s example. Griff endured it all, his mind reeling, trying to absorb his victory. He’d won, for himself and his dead. His name was clear. He was off the mage most wanted list.
Valeria touched his arm. “Meet me in my old suite?”
“Sure. Honey—” But she was turning away with Sybil. Good. Maybe she could salvage something.
He smiled at his beaming friends. “Meet you later.”
“In my suite,” Will said. “Beer and champagne on ice.” With a sidelong glance at Tasha, he added, “And Pepsi.”
She wrinkled her nose at him, then grinned. “For this occasion, I can deal.”
“I’ll help you set up,” Hettie offered. “I brought peach cobbler and watermelon.”
His father grinned. “We’ll be up soon.”
As Griff’s friends hurried out, laughing, his mother hugged him. “I’m very proud of you.” Cupping his cheek with one hand, she peered into his face, and in the lines around her eyes he saw the worries she’d carried during his years of exile.
But she was smiling at him. “You scared a decade off my life, Griffin. I want you to come home, give us some time.”
“I’d like that.” Especially since he wouldn’t have to look over his shoulder anymore. Unless ghouls came after him. No point worrying about that now, though.
They started for the steps, and his mother added, “Valeria is welcome to come, of course. We all want to know her better, and I want to hear all about your painting, see some pieces.” She paused, staring hard at him, and her gaze sharpened. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Caro.” Griff waited until her face turned toward him. “What were people saying in the halls today?”
To his parents, he added, “Don’t look so surprised. She’s quiet, so people overlook her. She can’t see, so they act like she can’t hear, either. Spill it, Caro.”
“They were surprised by your testimony and Stefan’s,” she said. “Many of them were admitting they misjudged you—” She stopped abruptly.
“Go on,” he said. “Let’s have it all.”
She frowned, brows knitting. “Some were saying nothing excused your killing those mages when you went on the run. They’re glad you don’t have your powers. And some idiots think Valeria should be kicked out for helping you instead of bringing you in.”
“Thanks for that, but if we were talking about a stranger, none of us would blame them for feeling that way.”
“I would,” she insisted.
“Yeah,” he said, trying to lighten the mood as they neared the steps, “but you’re special.”
“About time you figured that out.” But her half-hearted tone meant his effort had failed.
“We’re at the stairs.” He tucked her hand through his elbow for the climb. “Step up.”
His father frowned at him. “People take time to come around. Most of them, however, will. Look at Gerry and Dan. Teresa. Healey. And that young man who followed them.”
Griff shrugged. “Five out of two hundred in here.” Plus the mage who’d given him his staff, maybe. The guy hadn’t stuck around to congratulate him.
So few wouldn’t help Valeria. This was her home. He’d made her unwelcome here. And for what? He’d killed one friend and four deputy reeves, lost Corin and Allie.
If he’d come to his father, done what Corin urged him to years ago, would those friends still be alive? Or would his father have died, as Corin did, for trying to help?
“Top of the stairs, sis.” He squeezed her hand.
She released him and activated her laser cane.
“I don’t like this mood,” his mother said. “Griffin, you’ve won your life back. Can’t you be glad of that?”
“You heard Caro, Mom. And I’m done as a mage anyway.”
“Maybe not,” Caro said. “Stefan has a friend—”
“Stefan,” Griff interrupted, “feels a misguided sense of obligation to me. He won’t give up even when sanity dictates it. Even so, he admits he’s taking shots in the dark. Better to face things and deal.”
“Nice.” Stefan stepped inside in the doorway, his eyes cool. “I want to talk to you, Griff.”
“We’ll clear out,” Stuart Dare said. “See you upstairs.”
Griff’s mother kissed him, his sister hugged him, and then he was alone with Stefan.
“Even a shot in the dark can hit the target,” Stefan said.
“The odds aren’t great.” Griff shrugged.
Before Stefan could reply, a male voice in the corridor said, “Dare is one brave bastard. I hate to think we didn’t do right by him.”
Shock widened Griff’s eyes, but another man said, “Maybe.” After a moment, he added, “I’ll grant you the sumbitch is brave, but they wouldn’t have pinned so much on him if he hadn’t done something. Smoke, fire, you know. And he killed all those deputy reeves.”
“I dunno. Blake put his own ass in a sling out there.”
“Doesn’t mean Dare is clean as driven snow.”
The two men walked
on. Griff’s eyes met Stefan’s angry ones.
“People will learn,” Stefan said. “You have to give them time.”
“Maybe.” While Valeria remained an outcast among their people? Griff was used to being one. She wasn’t, and she had dreams she could attain only here. Losing her would tear out a piece of his soul, but he couldn’t let her give up anything else, lose out on anything more, because of him.
Stefan stared hard at him. “I don’t like your mood, either, and I know how you think better than your parents do. Don’t blow the best stroke of luck you’ve ever had.”
Stefan gave him a curt nod and turned on his heel. Griff glared after him. Everybody was so damned worried about him. They should think about Valeria.
Even she probably wasn’t thinking about her own best interests. But he would.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Val told Sybil as her friend helped her line a box with newspaper. No one had offered her the shire reeve job back, and she wasn’t going to count on it. She’d left the door ajar so there’d be no questions as to what she was doing here.
“Thanks.” Sybil sighed. “Look, I don’t like what you did, siding with Dare, keeping secrets. He should’ve gone through the proper channels to handle Alden, precog flash or no. When you had the chance, you should’ve brought him in, not covered for him.”
“Sybil, he—”
“But what he did today, going up against Blake with no powers, that’s one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen. He was right, too, about there being a traitor.”
“He’s a good man. One of the best.” Yet some people still distrusted him, even after all he had done. With time, he could prove them wrong. They could, together.
“Maybe you’re right,” Sybil said. “I don’t know what to think, Val.”
“He’s done so much, lost so much. I love him, Syb. Give him a chance. Please.”
Sybil hesitated. “Well, for you, okay. If you trust him, that’s a point in his favor.”
“Thank you so much. You won’t regret it.”
“I’d better not.” Sybil gave her a wry grin and a hug. “I’ll see you later, huh?”
“Later.” As Sybil walked out, Griffin came in. The two of them exchanged tentative smiles. That was good.
Griffin closed the door behind him, and her heart plummeted. A man who’d come to celebrate with his lover would be grinning, hurrying toward her. Not standing with his feet braced and his face grim. She drew a slow breath.
“I’d be dead without you,” he said.
“We’re even on that score.” If he would stay, agree to fight for their future—
“It’s good of Harrison to give me a chance,” he said. “Most won’t.”
“Some won’t.”
“They still don’t trust me and may not ever. There’s no sense in sugarcoating that fact.”
“Is that why you’re planning to dump me?” The words surprised her. She hadn’t meant to say them out loud.
He looked startled. “You deserve better than you’ll get if you’re with me.”
“And you deserve better than you’ve had.” Val took a step closer, willing him to believe her. “Together, we can show them—”
“Maybe when hell freezes over.” The denial and pain in his eyes made her throat ache with frustration. “I love you,” he said, “and loving me is wrecking your life. I can’t do that to you.”
The last of her hope withered, but she had to give it one final try. “I never told you I was engaged once, to a man who wanted me to give up my dream of being shire reeve. He wanted me to do something safer. At least he had the balls to admit his fear was the problem and give me a choice. If you love me, you’ll respect my right to decide what I’m willing to face. Make a stand with me.”
His jaw tightened. At last he said, “That you’d choose me and all my baggage means more to me than I can say. But too many people have suffered terrible losses because of me. I couldn’t save them. I can save you.”
“So I’m paying your karmic freight for everybody? That is such bullshit.” Despite everything, she couldn’t believe he’d ask her to accept that. That he could accept it.
“Eventually you’ll see it’s not. People ostracized Allie. I won’t be the cause of that happening to you.”
He was adamant. Val took a deep breath that didn’t ease the heaviness around her heart. “Allie didn’t have you with her. With you beside me, I can face anything.”
He shook his head. “This way, you’ll have your job back. I know you will. You deserve it.”
“I’m not sure I still want it. If I do, I’ll find a way.”
“Your road’ll be easier without me.”
She didn’t want easy. She wanted him. If only she could make him see that. Make him believe in what they could have together.
“You know, you’re protecting me again, and I like it even less now than I did before. I’d hoped that would change when you were acquitted. Since it hasn’t, I guess things wouldn’t have worked between us anyway.”
Pain flickered in his eyes before they became unreadable again. “Maybe not,” he said.
“What will you do?”
“I’ll go home with my folks for a while. Meet my brother-in-law.” He shrugged. “There’s always another mural for Gray Walker or Simon Ishmael to paint. I’ll be fine. So will you. I’m doing this for you.”
Val shook her head. “No, you’re not. Doing what’s best for me would mean building a life together, whether it’s here or somewhere else. You’re doing this for yourself, so you don’t have to feel guilty.”
She took a deep, painful breath. “Good-bye, Griffin. Good luck.”
He looked at her a long moment, and sorrow filled his eyes. “Good luck to you, too.” He walked out, closing the door quietly.
Val blinked back tears. Sometimes love really wasn’t enough.
Chapter 28
During Griff’s two-week visit with his parents, he’d been antsy to get back to work, but painting didn’t offer the refuge it once had. Dabbing white on the stream, he frowned at the big canvas. His unreliable mind kept putting Valeria on the flat rock.
At least he had no memories of her here, in his new home.
He’d had to give up the place in the swamp. He couldn’t defend it if ghouls came hunting, but he’d found a refuge half a mile from the swamp that he could buy at a good price, a rickety old farmhouse with a sturdy, much newer barn. He’d set up a studio and living space in the barn and dived back into work because he wasn’t sleeping.
Griff dabbed blue in the water. She looked good in blue.
It had been a month since he’d seen her, half that long since he’d come back to Wayfarer. In time, she would realize he’d done the right thing.
Stepping back, he forced himself to think only of the painting. He had the trees roughed in, the stream almost done. Maybe he should’ve chosen another scene for his own mural, but this was one of his favorite places. Eventually, it would become a comfort again, a memento when he knew she’d moved on, a way to hold a bit of what they’d shared.
How pathetic.
Scowling, he chugged Coke. He’d grown to like it, even though he no longer had issues with the ammonia taste. With both the magic and venom in his system low, they seemed in balance. Finally. Hell of a price to pay, he thought, staring at the unoccupied rock he’d painted.
Shit.
Maybe that was justice, too. He’d killed people who hadn’t deserved death. If his powers were the recompense the universe demanded, he was getting off lightly.
He stalked to the window, where an air-conditioning vent wafted cool air through. With recharging not an issue, he could indulge the pleasures of climate control. When he had time, he’d maybe fix up the house, but the open space down below was fine for now.
Before heading out with his parents, he’d hired contractors from Wayfarer to build a kitchen, bath, and a couple of closets on the ground floor. They’d also built a real staircase up here to the loft, and
put up drywall throughout. Which he still hadn’t painted.
He’d let his mom, who was desperate to do something, anything, for him, choose furniture. The big, cushioned pieces upholstered in blues and burgundies went together better than the secondhand hodgepodge he’d had before.
At least his paintings still looked as vivid as they ever had, despite the loss of his magic. At least to him. And the canvases he now had the time to do were selling well.
Stefan’s steel-blue BMW coupe crunched its way down the newly graveled drive. Odd, that he hadn’t called first. Stefan parked and climbed out, his expression one of grim purpose.
Had something happened to Valeria?
Griff set his brush aside and clattered down the steps from the studio to the main floor. He flung the door open while Stefan’s hand was raised to knock. “What’s wrong? Is it Valeria?”
“No,” Stefan replied, studying him. “Interesting that she’s your first thought.”
“Shove it.” Griff stalked back up the newly stained and waxed stairs. He’d bought the banister, with its smooth top and carved dragons swirling along the sides, from a local folk artist.
Stefan followed. “Nice to see you openly enjoying your success at last.”
“Yeah. The painting’s going well, but I have to take care that it doesn’t squeeze the shelter kids out of my day.”
“Can’t have everything.”
Or even the one thing he wanted most.
At least he’d kept his promise to make up to the kids for running out on them the night Valeria was hurt. “I’ve turned the magic tricks over to Will, but I bring goodie bags.”
They reached the loft. Griff shut the door, closing the cool air in. “Want a Coke? Beer?”
“No, thanks.” Stefan nodded at the painting. “That looks good, almost like I could walk into it.”
“Thanks. In this, at least, I seem to be normal. I guess the art wasn’t due to magic after all.”
Griff considered the mural. Maybe a little yellow in the water, for sunlight. He picked up his brush again. “So what brings you to my corner of the swamp?”
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