Shadow Rising (The Shadow World Book 7)
Page 31
David flung himself at Deven, the naked animosity in his face so alien Nico shrank back from it even though he was already ten feet away.
Nico pushed himself back behind the arm of the couch, shaking so hard he could barely feel his fingers gripping the upholstery. He tried to come up with the power to help, to push the balance toward Deven, but he could tell Dev was worn out too, and didn’t have the force of whatever madness had seized their Prime to tip the scales in their favor. Deven had never lost a fight, he said, but it looked like he might now—
This time David threw himself into Deven so hard they both went over, and David had his hands at Deven’s throat, trying to break his neck. Deven twisted in his grasp and got an elbow into David’s sternum, managing to break his grip long enough to get some air, but David was already on him again, snapping his teeth into Dev’s shoulder and tearing backwards.
Nico saw something small and furry race across the room toward them, and he yelled in fear at the Nighthound, scared she was about to try and join in the fight; but Astela was smarter than he could have hoped, and bounded past them, a blur of motion darting to Nico’s side where she took up position in front of him, hackles up, teeth bared in a surprisingly ferocious display for such a young animal.
“Good girl,” he whispered. “Stay with me.”
Nico had no weapons training, no energy, not even enough to call for help again. Deven was losing. Whatever had happened to David he no longer seemed to care that killing either of them meant his own death, and his Queen’s—
“Deven, MOVE!”
Dev reacted from instinct at the voice, pitching himself sideways and out of the line of fire. Something whistled through the air and struck David hard in the back; he howled in pain and spun toward it, trying to get hold of the hilted stake…a hilt Nico recognized with such gratitude he nearly wept.
David, unrecognizable from the blood all over his face and the seething violence in his eyes, faced his Queen, who stared at him calmly, framed in the light beyond the doorway, stone cold fury in every inch of her body and her black, black eyes.
She didn’t bother with explanations, quips, or questions, any more than Deven had. She waited until she had David’s attention and he came at her as he had the others, a killing light in his eyes. She didn’t draw Shadowflame, didn’t throw another stake, didn’t move aside.
But she was absolutely armed to the teeth.
Nico saw behind her shield just before she dropped it: A well of power drawn up from the Dark Web, churning around her, crackling like the air before a lightning strike. She raised both hands and clapped them together in front of her, and the power around her ignited.
With a surge of unbelievable heat, the Queen’s power rushed forward, engulfing the Prime, obscuring them both in a light that was also darkness—the flames were black, silver, tongues of shadow that burned.
David screamed.
Nico had never heard a sound like it and hoped to all the gods he never would again—it was a sound of fear, and agony, and outrage, and it was both David’s and something else’s, an energy Nico could suddenly sense—something wrapped around the Prime’s mind, something with slimy tentacles and poisoned teeth that had been slowly and quietly curling itself through him, driving him to kill more and more, to feed…
Now, the creature that wasn’t a creature—for it had a form of consciousness but wasn’t sentient, only programmed to take over its host and use it until it died—screamed alone as Miranda moved forward and sent more energy into it, more fire. The creature was burning, the stench nauseating even though there was nothing physical to burn. It kept screaming—and it was David screaming, but not his screams.
She continued to burn the thing long after it stopped moving, long after its shrieking faded into sobs and then into silence. The Queen had her own rage to contend with.
Finally, she seemed satisfied that it was well and truly dead, and with one last burst of energy the creature fell to ash and disappeared.
All that was left was a shuddering, whimpering figure curled up in a ball, and Miranda dropped to her knees beside him, her eyes returning to their usual green but her lovely face still set and determined.
Breathing hard, she waited a moment—grounding, Nico realized—before reaching with one hand toward her Prime and touching his shoulder.
He flinched and, seized with sudden panic, tried to get away from her, but he was simply too weak to go far, and collapsed onto the floor and curled back up on himself.
Miranda reached out again, this time taking hold of his shoulder before he could pull away, and Nico felt her hitting him with another wave of energy, this one knocking him unconscious.
Once that was done, she seemed to deflate. She put her face in her hands and leaned on her knees for a minute, shaking as hard as they all were.
Nico forced himself to move and crawled out from behind the couch; he made it to the Queen’s side and fell against her before he could stop the motion. She didn’t fall over. She was like a mountain, there, rooted in the Web and as strong as the Earth itself.
And she was crying. Nico got his arms around her, unable to give her anything more.
A few seconds later Deven joined them and touched his forehead to hers. Nobody spoke.
For several long minutes the only sounds were the fireplace and their ragged breathing gradually slowing down to normal. Nico felt Astela sit down next to him, sphinxlike, keeping watch as if she were three times her size.
“I got here as fast as I could,” Miranda whispered. “I couldn’t Mist that far and still call up enough power to kill it.”
“What…what was it?” Nico asked.
“The same thing that possessed the people at the benefit,” she said, voice shaking. “It must have gotten hold of him when he killed one of the other survivors.”
Deven took a breath, swallowed. “He’s been killing since the last New Moon, hasn’t he—after that night he took the compulsion from us.”
“Longer,” she said. “Novotny told me it’s been going on for months. Only one or two at a time until that night. It’s why the need never got as strong as it should have after we all bonded—it wasn’t because of the magic. And since the benefit…it’s been every night. Even in the daytime. He Misted to Hunter and killed there.”
“And we had no idea,” Nico said. “How is that possible?”
“Because of me,” Deven answered softly. “He learned how to block us out because I did it to you. And you know David…he would have studied it, figured out how to fine-tune the process.”
“But how could something like that, designed to possess humans, be strong enough to do this to a Prime?” Nico asked.
“It wasn’t designed for humans,” Miranda said, sitting back. “The Prophet sent it for us.”
They stared at her.
“I felt it when I killed the first one…they were still connected to him, like he was monitoring them somehow. I didn’t think anything of it at the time—you told me yourself that doing any kind of magic, especially with blood, binds you to the spell. But when I saw this one, the way it had him, I could see him on the other side. He used the humans at the benefit to snare one of us, knowing we would examine what he’d done.”
“But why? To kill us?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know.”
“I do,” came a rough whisper.
They all looked over to where David lay, no longer unconscious but with his eyes half-open, glazed with pain and with tears. Screaming had turned his voice into a choked, hoarse sound that was nothing like what they knew. He barely even seemed to know where he was, but he was pushing as much meager strength as he had into the words, determined to speak them.
“He wants me,” David said. “Kai isn’t enough for him. He wants me.” His eyes lost focus, then sharpened again, this time on Miranda. “And she wants you.”
Chapter Fifteen
“I warned you, child.”
Oh, how he wanted it all to have been a nightmare…to wake up in the puppy-pile of slumbering bodies with a hand around his wrist, breath against his neck, a chest pressed against his back. The sounds of breathing and murmuring to dreams in the dark, even the occasional snore—not that he’d ever tell—and the quiet certainty that was their unusual, but lovely, reality.
But that was not what awaited him this time…perhaps not ever again. It was tempting to feign amnesia, even just for a moment, but he had done enough lying…especially to himself.
She was sitting up cross-legged on the bed beside him, just watching, her face that seemingly unreadable expression that was, to him at least, still an open book. It was the product of too many emotions in too short a time.
For just a few seconds he took in the beauty of her face in silence, loving every inch of her, wishing he could just say so and go back to sleep.
She looked tired…and he knew why. There was no pretending.
He could feel his eyes burning, and he tried to find words to explain what had no explanation. Perhaps the only way to begin was with the bare truth.
“I fucked up,” he whispered, what there was of his voice breaking.
Whatever hardness was in her face melted, and she let out a long breath before stretching out beside him and pulling his head to her shoulder. “Yeah,” she said. “You did.”
He held onto her desperately, thankful for her strength—and for what felt like forgiveness, even though he hadn’t earned it. It took all he had not to sob into her chest, and not only because of the last few hours; aside from guilt and fear and exhaustion, the biggest thing he felt was relief.
She knew. They all knew. He could stop lying. God, why had he ever started?
“I’m such a fool,” he said. “I knew I wasn’t strong enough.”
“Strong enough for what?” she asked, winding her hand through his hair. God, was he still bloody, even in their bed? Or had she cleaned him up? And what about—
“Oh God—Nico—”
He struggled to sit up, but she held him down with dismaying ease. He felt like he had burned every scrap of energy he had…and if he’d been fighting Deven, even with the elder Prime off his game, it was no wonder David was a wreck. “He’s not here. They’re in their own suite for the time being. I thought it was best.”
“Is he all right?”
“That’s not a fair question.”
He shook his head. “No. It’s not. I can’t…”
“What do you mean when you say you weren’t strong enough?” she asked again, refusing to be deterred.
He took a deep breath. “You’re not a killer. None of you are. You shouldn’t have to do it. I thought I could handle it for all of us…to take the burden from you.”
She was quiet for a minute before saying, “There’s something I think you’re forgetting in all this, baby.”
He waited.
Her brow furrowed. “You don’t get to make that decision for me, or for any of us. Persephone gave all of us that choice and you took it away—for loving reasons, yes, but without our consent. Then you blocked us all from finding out the truth. That thing would never have gotten past us if you hadn’t let it. You treated our combined strength and love like it was an afterthought, when it could have stopped this before it started. And look what you did to yourself—and to us.”
Closing his eyes, he said, “I ruined everything.”
She sighed, but didn’t immediately reply, and that pause said it all. Shame to a depth he didn’t even know could exist washed over him, and he could barely breathe beneath its drowning weight.
Shame wasn’t the only problem, however…now that he was fully awake and able to look at the memories of the past few days…and longer than that, going back at least as far as the last New Moon…realizing how little control he’d really had over what was happening…he had told himself over and over he was doing this for them, the thought obsessive, letting the spell feed on his fear of losing all of this…and how close had he come to losing them anyway? Was there even a “them” to lose anymore?
“He had me,” David said, eyes still shut tightly. “He had his claws in me from miles away and I didn’t even know. He might still—how would I know? How can I know anything I’m thinking is my own? The fact that I thought I should hide anything from you tells me how little control I had even before that thing got me.”
“Calm down,” she said, tapping on his forehead. “You’re starting to panic.”
“Of course I am!” he exclaimed, sitting up abruptly and wresting himself from her embrace. It felt obscene, just then, for her to touch him, for him to be anywhere near this bed, this room, these people he had professed to love. Again, he found he couldn’t breathe, and his heart was pounding thunderously in his throat. “I’ve had a monster in my head…in my mind, Miranda, the one thing that’s made me who I am. And I let it in. I practically gift-wrapped myself. How can I trust anything I think? Or say to any of you? How…how can I…”
“David…” Her concern rose as steadily as his hysteria did. “You need to calm down or you’re going to start breaking things.”
“I already have. How can I ever look Nico in the eye knowing what I almost did to him? It doesn’t matter if I was in control or not—I might not be next time either. And what difference does it make who was steering if it’s still this body trying to rape him? I can’t—”
Across the room he heard something small shatter, then another similar noise; a bulb in one of the lamps popped a second later. Miranda put her hands on his arms, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying; the fear of what he could do, of what could turn into…or had already…
Pain sang sharply through his face. The impact sent a shockwave through his spinning thoughts, knocking them off kilter and disrupting the loop they’d gotten into.
Dizzy, panting, he looked up.
Deven stared at him calmly, his face imperious and impassive, lavender eyes icy. “You will pull yourself together, boy, or I will break your neck.”
That voice always, always had the desired effect. He froze, dropped his gaze, and fought to control his breathing.
Miranda took his hands and nudged her way into his shielding—when he noticed what she was doing he let her in without hesitation. She sent waves of calming energy into him, soothing the fear that was driving him mad. When he was calm enough, she started exploring, running her psychic “fingers” through him and looking for anomalies. He’d seen her do it before to new Elite recruits to find outside allegiances and anything that might compromise their loyalty.
And now she had to do it to him.
“I don’t see anything lingering,” she said. “Although…wait.”
His heart dropped again as her face clouded.
“Dev, would you come in here?” she asked. “I need a second opinion.”
“I’m not sure how much I can help,” Deven replied, climbing onto the bed and mirroring her cross-legged posture. “If you’re relying on a Weaving level of Sight I might miss something.”
“I won’t.”
They all looked up. David’s stomach, heart, and conscience all clenched so hard he felt nauseated.
Nico, arms crossed, stood in the doorway. He looked as exhausted as the others and even worse; there were the remnants of ragged bite wounds on his neck and shoulder that should already have vanished if he’d fed…which meant he hadn’t. Either he’d been asleep or old trauma had already resurfaced and he’d lost his appetite.
“You’re awake,” Deven said to Nico, worried. “I didn’t expect you to move until at least nightfall.”
A shrug. “I want to know what’s happening.”
David wanted more than anything to beg his forgiveness, to swear on any god or blood or Elven curse that he would never so much as touch him again, but he couldn’t
speak, only watch the Elf move closer, wary, refusing to meet David’s gaze. Nico joined them on the bed but kept his distance and kept his arms crossed over his chest, a shield.
“What are we looking at?”
Miranda shook her head. “I’m not sure. I need a more experienced eye to tell me if this is anything or just paranoia. If it’s something, and I get too close poking at it, it could trigger something nasty.”
“All right.”
Nico started to extend his energy, but balked, a shudder running through him.
Miranda put her hand on his shoulder. “You saw me kill it,” she said. “You know it’s gone.”
But Nico gave another voice to the chorus of fear in David’s head: “Do I? What if you’re right and there’s still something there?”
“Then you can help me burn it too.”
Nico still looked like he wanted to cut off his own hands rather than touch David’s aura. After a tense moment, Miranda told him softly, “Nico…it’s David. Don’t you think he’s worth the risk?”
Finally, Nico lifted his eyes to meet David’s. The fear there was wrenching, and David wanted desperately to look away…to curl up so tightly on himself he disappeared rather than exist as a creature who could hurt someone so loving and kind. But he would not look away; he wouldn’t hide anymore. The only way to repair even an iota of the damage he’d done was to look it in the eye and tell the truth.
He was in such a horrifyingly vulnerable state that he couldn’t stop more tears from trailing down his face, but he tried with everything he had left to hold Nico’s eyes and tell him, without words, that Miranda was right, that they could get through this somehow.
The only thing he could say was, “Please help me.”
The Elf drew a shaky breath and nodded. After a moment’s hesitation Nico reached up and wiped a tear from David’s face; the Prime leaned into the touch involuntarily. “I will,” Nico said.
David no longer had the strength to keep his shields up anyway; he let them drop, knowing that nothing could pass through the three miracles in human shape that surrounded him. They might not be safe with him…but he was safe with them. He had to believe that.