Shadowbound

by Dianne Sylvan

  Realization hit her. “To do this . . . to save us . . . we have to turn you.” She shot David a look of disbelief. “Is that even possible?”

  David leaned his head on his hand. “It will have to be.”

  “David . . . we can’t do it. If one of us sires him, he’ll be Thirdborn like us. We can’t do that to him. I won’t. Not to mention it would be pointless unless we turned Deven, too.”

  The thought of the Elf killing humans every month to survive was appalling. It was bad enough imagining what the transition might do to a creature like him—unleashing that kind of darkness, letting it take him . . . if she pictured him with eyes that went black like theirs, she felt physically repulsed by the mere idea.

  David felt her growing anguish. He reached for her hand. “It doesn’t have to be like that, beloved. We can drain him, and then feed him someone else’s blood. We’d be the instrument of death, but not his sires.” He looked up at Nico. “But it would have to be someone at Signet level or higher. Otherwise we risk blocking off parts of your power.”

  “Shall we call Olivia?” Miranda ventured. “She’s probably the closest.”

  “No, she isn’t,” David said. “We have a Signet right here.”

  Miranda looked up at the ceiling, running her hands back through her hair. “God . . . so not only are we going to force him to live—we’re going to force him to sire someone. Remind me again why we’re the good guys?”

  “Sometimes we can’t be the good guys,” David said. “We just have to be the lesser evil. And you know as well as I do that creating a blood bond will make it less likely that he’ll commit suicide and kill them both.”

  She frowned. “But it won’t really be a Signet bond. I mean, you can bind yourself to him, but you can’t create a soul-mating. You can’t just turn yourself into a Consort. It would just be an energetic connection . . . right?”

  But David said, “It can’t just be an energetic connection. To power the matrix they have to have a deeper bond than that. Is it even possible to force something like that when it’s supposed to be determined by a higher power?”

  Nico looked away. “What you speak of—creating a soul-bond and imposing it on someone—is nearly impossible. It is also an egregious violation of natural order and free will. Your actions that night were born out of desperate circumstances, but to do the same thing in a calculated, premeditated way . . . splitting open someone’s soul to fit your own into it violates everything I was ever taught.” He looked back at them. “And it is exactly what I intend to do.”

  Eighteen

  The autumn sun shone down over the Haven grounds, showing an entirely different kind of landscape from the one that appeared after sunset. Most of the flowers there were night-blooming, but there were still plenty of wildflowers bursting open in the morning light. Dragonflies and butterflies flitted over the gardens, and a few deer picked their way out of the forest and over to an open lawn to graze. Deer would venture into the open during daylight only if they knew beyond doubt it was safe.

  Nico walked along the garden paths, touching the plants on either side, listening to the murmur of green growing things. This Hill Country was so different from where he had lived, but it still sang. Just as in California, there was a youth and a wildness to it that he found comforting.

  He stopped at a stone bench and sat down, tilting his head back to let the sun warm his face. He tried to memorize that feeling . . . the brightness . . . the intensity of color all around him.

  It was the last daylight he would ever see.

  He tried not to think about what he was about to do to himself, or to Deven. He tried to simply enjoy the morning, soaking it in.

  Footsteps approached, and he lowered his head and looked along the path to where a young woman was walking in his direction. Her eyes were on the ground, an air of confusion and unhappiness around her. He realized, watching her draw near, that she was no vampire.

  She was nearly upon him when she noticed anyone was there. She yelped and jumped back, hand going to her chest. “Fuck, I didn’t see you there! Nobody else is ever . . . out here . . .”

  He stared at her, and she stared back. “You are human,” he said.

  She nodded slowly. “And you’re an Elf.”

  He returned the nod. “Nicolanai Araceith, at your service.”

  “So you’re everybody’s savior,” she mused. “They’re supposed to fang you up tonight, right? I guess that’s why you’re out here.”

  “Everyone’s savior,” Nico repeated, shaking his head. “I wish it were so simple.”

  She looked ashamed for saying it. “Sorry. It can’t be easy having so much depend on you.”

  He smiled. “Walk with me,” he said, rising. “You are the first human I have ever seen up close, and unless I am gravely mistaken you are the Witch, Stella—I would like to hear your perspective on what has passed here.”

  She turned a little pink. “Really? I mean, I’m not . . . you’re like ten times more powerful than I am. I don’t see what good it would do to ask me about it.”

  “Oh, surely not ten times,” he teased, offering his arm. “More like five.”

  “So what did you say your full name was? Something about a lanai? What does that mean?”

  He chuckled. “Our first names are given by our parents, and we choose the second ourselves when we come of age,” he said. “Nicolanai translates to ‘shadow of the forest,’ but with a connotation of the color of shadow among the trees at the moment dusk turns to night. My mother thought it described my eyes.”

  “And the second part?”

  “Ceith is ‘night,’ specifically the dark and silent time around, say, two A.M. Ara is a shortened form of aranae, which is both our term for Weaver and our word for ‘spider.’”

  Stella froze. “Spider.”

  “Yes.”

  She shook her head with a humorless laugh. “The Spider, the Weaver . . . of course.”

  He observed her surreptitiously as they took the winding path that made its way around and through the extensive Haven grounds. She was exceptionally bright, and though he had no idea what was considered beautiful among human females, he thought she was lovely—very different from the willowy gazelle-like Elven women. If she were to go to Avilon, if everyone stopped fearing her for being human, she would likely have her pick of lovers; to them she would be exotic and mysterious, although mysterious was not a word he would use for Stella. She wore her heart out where all could see it, expressed her opinions with conviction. He liked her.

  She also had a thirst for magical knowledge and obvious talent; if he survived the next few days he might offer to show her more about Weaving, as Elves had done for Witches hundreds of years ago.

  “Just so you know . . .” She grew uncomfortable for a moment, looking off at the Haven. “I think what you’re going to do to Deven is awful. But it’s the right thing to do.”

  Nico sighed. “He will hate me for it. And probably the others, too.”

  “Probably. But not forever. He won’t be ready to replace Jonathan for a long time, but—”

  “I have no intention of replacing him,” Nico said, a little more harshly than he intended. “That is not what this is about. I could not replace him if I tried, and even if I could I would not want to. Even taking the same role, even if Deven’s heart healed, it would never be the same. It is unlikely he will ever love me—especially not now. I am prepared to live with that.”

  “But how can you live forever as a soul mate to someone who doesn’t love you?”

  “It does not have to be forever,” he said sadly. “It only has to last until the war ends.”

  Stella had tears in her eyes as she told him, “None of you deserves all of this. Miranda and David are amazing people. So’s Deven, in spite of what he thinks. And you . . . I don’t know you, but I got to spend time with the magic you’d worked. You can tell a lot about someone from seeing how they create. There was so much love in every thread.”

/>   He smiled at her again, and kissed her hand. “That is what we do,” he said. “We strive to bring the love of our Goddess into everything we make . . . even the awful things.”

  She paused. “You know . . . a while back Miranda and I were talking about how you make a vampire, and . . . you’re going to need blood when you wake up. Human blood, the fresher the better. If it’s okay with you I’d like to give you mine.”

  They held each other’s eyes. “You do not have to.”

  “I know I don’t. I’m the only human here, but if I said no, they’d find another one in town without any problem. But I tried to help with magic, and I couldn’t do much. I’m limited. I can’t do the things you can do. I can’t make all of this better. At least let me do what I can.”

  He nodded, then leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I would be honored.”

  Stella blushed furiously, but smiled. “Okay, then.”

  As they resumed their walk, Nico knew without a doubt that whatever Stella might think of her abilities, her work was far from over . . . and by the time she returned to live in the human world, if she did, limited would be the last word she would ever use to describe herself. She would learn how great her own strength was, how much she had to offer.

  He could only hope her lessons would not be as painful as his.

  • • •

  The atmosphere in the mistress suite had not changed since David had been there last. It was hard to breathe in a place so saturated with pain . . . but he had to come. He was drawn back there inexorably again and again like a moon in orbit around its planet . . . or like a dog waiting to be kicked.

  Depending on how long it took the Elf to recover from the transformation, in a few days the Signet bond would be reworked again and he and Miranda would be a Pair once more. It was definitely for the best . . . but in the back of his mind, in a place so selfish he’d never speak of it to the others, was a part of him that wanted so badly to just fix what they had . . . to keep Deven as part of them, and perhaps someday . . .

  He sighed. Not only was it selfish, it was foolish. David wasn’t usually given to such self-indulgence. And yet . . .

  And yet here he was again, losing Deven to someone else. He understood it had to be this way, and realistically a Trinity was a bad idea on so many levels, virtually guaranteed to end up hurting Miranda, who mattered far more . . . but just like everything involving Deven, it still made him ache.

  “David . . .”

  David’s breath caught at the sound of that ragged whisper. “I’m here.”

  His voice was thready and sounded so young. “It hurts.”

  “I know it does.”

  “It’s my fault.” Deven’s eyes opened a little, and they were clouded with both pain and confusion. “You left me . . . Nico left me . . . Jonathan left me . . . I’m the constant in this. I just . . . I’m wrong. I broke it.”

  David had to take a deep breath to hold back tears. Damn it. “I’m here . . . and Nico’s here . . . and I know wherever he is, Jonathan loves you. He wanted to save you. We all do.”

  “It’s too late.” A tear ran down Deven’s face. “I deserve this.”

  “No.” David held tighter, just barely keeping the tremor out of his voice. “I won’t give up on you. I won’t.”

  Just the faintest of smiles passed over Deven’s lips. “Stubborn bastard.”

  “Some things never change.”

  A shiver ran through Deven’s slender body, and he murmured, his voice becoming more vague, “Is it already time for shift?”

  David sighed and played along. “Not for a couple of hours. Go back to sleep.”

  “Can’t be late again . . . people will talk.”

  “Let them talk.”

  Again, the smile. “Love you, Ó Lionáin.”

  “I love you, too.” He sat up slowly, careful not to jostle Deven and wake him up all the way; it was especially important he stay asleep tonight. “Sleep . . . I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

  As Deven drifted off again, David heard a voice from the door: “Are you ready?”

  He raised his eyes to his Queen, who saw the look on his face and came to him immediately, putting her arms around him.

  “Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” she said, kissing his forehead. She touched his face, wiping tears away with her thumbs. “I know how hard this is.”

  David took a long, deep breath. “If I ever see Jonathan again I’m going to kick his fool ass.”

  She stood in front of him and he put his arms around her waist, resting his head against her. She didn’t ask for any explanation—didn’t need one. They were both running on the very edge of what they could bear. In that respect he was thankful they were going to split the Trinity; he and Miranda would have a chance to breathe again without the constant pull of someone else’s fathomless grief.

  Finally, when he thought he could put his mask back on for Nico, David rose from the bed, giving Deven a parting kiss on the cheek. Forgive us. Even if it takes a thousand years, forgive us.

  The Elf was waiting in their bedroom, looking terrified but determined. Miranda asked, “I understand Stella offered her blood to you, Nico?”

  “Yes,” the Elf said softly. “It is a good choice—a Witch’s blood will be very strong.”

  “How long after you finish the transition will you be ready to rework the bonds?” David wanted to know.

  Nico shook his head. “I am unsure, my Lord. It will depend on how long my recovery is. I may have to do it in stages. Also there is a particular configuration of symbols and energies I require to do Weaving at this level—this is not your average magic. I will need considerable protection.”

  “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Miranda asked. “We can get you anything you need.”

  “I have what I need. I have Stella. She is as we speak setting up the room to my specifications. Then she will come and feed me when I wake.”

  “Sounds like everything’s in place, then,” Miranda concluded. “Are you two ready?”

  They nodded.

  “Let’s go.”

  Nico’s eyes were on Deven’s inert form as they returned to the dark little room, the three of them sitting down, Miranda cross-legged close to Dev so she could reach his arm easily, Nico between her and David.

  They all stared at each other, and David nearly laughed—it was like agreeing to a threesome without anyone knowing how to start. They had opted to drink from the Elf together to speed up the whole process, but Miranda still wasn’t used to feeding on men of any sort, even one who wasn’t exactly a paragon of human masculinity. She wasn’t threatened by him, just . . . uncertain.

  David took pity on both of them and moved closer to Nico, drawing the Elf against him, baring one side of his throat. He could feel Nico’s pulse racing, and between that and the scent of his skin, warm and alive and touched with something that reminded David of either trees or cookies, or perhaps both, David’s teeth pressed into his lip, wanting. He reached past the Elf to take Miranda’s hand and beckon her closer as well. She leaned in and nuzzled Nico’s throat, taking up the other side, and without either signaling the other, Prime and Queen bit down hard, eliciting a strangled cry of pain from their prey.

  Nico’s body tensed as if he were going to struggle, but he held himself there with a strength of will that surprised David. Indeed, he was amazingly strong in a lot of ways—David could feel, as he and Miranda pressed into the Elf and their hands slid around him to help him feel secure . . . or possibly trapped . . . muscle in his willowy frame, and a solidity that he wouldn’t have expected from a being of light and healing.

  Of course, as soon as the blood flowed and David got his first taste of it, he realized he had badly misjudged the Elf. Light and healing were well and good, but what infused his blood was much darker, far more sensual. He tasted like a long night of sweaty sex in front of a bonfire . . . like wild animals and the serpentine roots of a tree through the earth.

  Miranda moan
ed softly and reached over to wrap a hand around David’s neck. He could feel her taking deep and intense pleasure from the blood, just as he was—neither of them wanted to stop. Nico was incredibly strong, and the energy in his blood hit them both like a freight train after so many days of feeling so enervated.

  We’re going to kill him . . . have to stop . . . I don’t think I can.

  Fortunately Miranda had enough sense left to know it was time, and she lifted her head with a snarl. Her lips were bloody, her eyes pitch-black. “Stop,” she said.

  Despite 350 years of learning to control himself, David resisted her—she had to grab his hair and pull him back. To wrench his attention away from the Elf, she clamped her mouth on David’s, and they took a few seconds to lick the blood from each other’s mouths before the Queen turned back to the matter at hand.

  “If we weren’t otherwise occupied I’d have you right here,” David said to her quietly.

  She smiled. It was a predator’s smile, and it made his body burn even hotter. “Later.” She had already lifted Deven’s arm and turned it up to expose the wrist. Not allowing herself to hesitate, she bit him, holding her head so that her second fangs wouldn’t add extra holes.

  The Elf lay limp between them, barely breathing. “Drink,” David told him as Miranda held Deven’s arm to his mouth.

  Nico obeyed readily enough, though he was so weak it was hard to detect him swallowing. When Miranda took the wrist away his eyes immediately closed, but he was still breathing raggedly—even under the euphoria of blood loss, he was afraid to let go.

  “It’s all right,” Miranda said into his ear. “We’re with you, Nico. You’re safe. Just rest.”

  A moment later, the Elf’s breath stilled. That pounding heartbeat had dwindled over the past few minutes, and finally it halted . . . for now.

  The Queen looked dazed. “Good God.”

  David nodded in agreement. “I read somewhere that vampires were partly responsible for the Elves’ extinction—if they all taste like that I can see why.”