by A. H. Lee
“It’s Mal,” said Tod desperately. “Mal is the piece you’re missing. He’s your astral incubus. You’ve had him since forever. You freed him. I’m pretty sure you’ve been in love with him as long as I’ve known you. Do you really not remember?”
Azrael stared at Tod—his assumptions, his self-image, his identity all shifting. I escaped alone from Polois. I have been alone all my life. That is true. That is a foundational truth.
Except it isn’t. Because I didn’t. There was someone else. There has always been someone else.
His mouth felt dry. “I…I need to find these people. Either one of us could wake up at any moment. I need you to break into my rooms.”
Tod blinked. “What?”
“There’s a secret passage in the back of the library. It leads up to my bedroom. I wouldn’t normally send a mortal through the deep stacks. They’re full of pocket worlds. But as an uninhibited werewolf, you should be alright. Just don’t get distracted by any of the people from the pockets. Find the back wall. There’s a false book that you can pull out to open the secret passage. The book is called ‘Summoning Trouble.’ It’s not marked in any way, but it’s got a fade-out charm, which makes ordinary people overlook it. Ironically, the scent of the magic should lead you right to it.”
Tod was looking bewildered. “You want me to break into your rooms, my lord?”
“Yes, I want you to be stealthy about it. I need you to bring me back here, probably by force. I suspect I will resist.” He raised one eyebrow at Tod’s expression. “You did just say, ‘I’ll do anything.’”
“Yes, but…break into your bedroom? And…and kidnap you?”
Azrael rolled his eyes. “You’ve just informed me that you know more than anyone ought to know about my sleeping arrangements. I assume nothing will surprise you.”
If wolves could have blushed, Azrael was certain Tod would be glowing. Sorry, kid. There’s no time to be precious about this. “You need to be ready before I wake up. There is no time to lose if you want to save your friend. Stop looking at me like that. You’re an uninhibited werewolf, Loudain.” Azrael spread his hands. He was a slender, fit man, but he knew perfectly well he was not physically intimidating. “You can wrestle me to the ground, I promise.”
Chapter 31
Lucy
“I fell in love when I was thirty-four. He was a charming sorcerer and small-time criminal named Tristan. I had my own business by then, my little empire, my independence. I gave it all to him. I let him bind me. We had some adventures. He became apprenticed to a more formidable sorcerer. Tristan wanted to put me in a vessel. He said it would make me more powerful, allow me to live longer, stay at his side. I had my reservations, but I tucked them away. I let him do it. And he banished me.”
Mal raised his head from Lucy’s lap. “He did what?”
“Sent me to the astral plane,” murmured Lucy. She stared out at the whispering sea under the rolling fog.
Mal had gone rigid with what seemed like indignation. “He sent an earth-born demon to the astral plane? Without warning, without instructions? Did he have a way to get you back?”
Lucy shook her head. “He had a collar on me—a collar like yours. I followed the trail like breadcrumbs. I remember being confused and terrified. I remember that something was hunting me—my entity, I imagine. I remember thinking I would never find my way home. That place was so vast, but it wasn’t like a forest or a desert or an ocean or…”
“Mortals have no words for the astral plane,” said Mal. He’d risen to a sitting position, now on eye level with her. “You came back?”
Lucy nodded. “I came back, but I didn’t have a body at first. I was simply bound to the collar. He fashioned it into my perfume bottle, worked some more magic to concentrate my essence inside. He decanted me, and that was the first time I was a dragon.”
Mal shook his head. “It seems like so many things could have gone wrong.”
Lucy nodded. “I’m sure that, from his point of view, it was an amazingly successful experiment. If he’d lost me...well, he would have had to do something different. He was a risk-taker, my Tristan. As it was, he took me to his mentor and presented me as a sort of final exam. Ultimately, he used my magic to outmaneuver his mentor and kill him some years later.”
“Your lover was a monster,” said Mal.
“I know.” Lucy focused on the waves. “It is pleasant to be in love. People yearn to be in love before they’ve even met a suitable candidate. Your life makes sense when you are in love. You feel as though you belong.
“When mortals fall out of love, they do it slowly, often over years. It is hard to fall out of love all at once—to go from blind, passionate devotion to clear, unflinching insight. But the astral plane burned away my humanity. At least that’s how it seemed to me.
“I looked upon my lover with dragon eyes, and I saw him for exactly what he was—a superficially charming man with a handsome face and a clever wit, but not an ounce of compassion or empathy. I looked back over our time together and realized that every decision he’d made had been for his own advancement. I’d made sacrifices for him; he’d never made one for me. Indeed, he had nearly sacrificed my life, mostly out of curiosity.”
“He was a monster,” repeated Mal.
“You remind me of him.” Lucy spoke without malice, but she also made no effort to soften her words. You want honesty? There you go.
Mal didn’t say anything. He was still and quiet for so long that Lucy finally turned to look at him. Mal had transformed back into a man. He was hugging his knees to his chin, staring into the fire. His eyes looked wet.
Lucy sighed. “But not always. Not entirely. Come on, Mal, be a cat again.” I know you need to be touched. You practically crawled into my lap the moment you saw me.
But Mal did not transform into a cat. He cleared his throat. “How long had you been in your bottle when we found you, Lucy?”
Lucy considered. “About eighty years, I think. My previous master made an ill-fated attempt to take the Shrouded Isle from the lake spirit. He died and dropped me there in the ruins.”
“Eighty years…” whispered Mal. “In a spirit vessel.”
Lucy shrugged. “It’s not the longest my bottle has ever been lost. I was in there for almost a hundred and fifty years at one point. I’d go to sleep and wake up and go to sleep again. I tried to figure out how to die once, but I don’t think I can from inside my bottle.”
Mal scrubbed a hand across his face. “I never asked, did I?”
“Never asked what?”
“How long you’d been in there.”
Lucy looked at him quizzically. “I’m sure you didn’t. Azrael did, of course. Do you even remember coming to the Shrouded Isle, Mal? You were still pretty…wild.”
“It’s like a dream,” admitted Mal. “Fragments. I do remember finding your bottle. You were so cranky…”
Lucy snorted a laugh. “I was decanted after eighty years by an earnest but naïve teenaged sorcerer with more talent than skill, no training, and an astral incubus, with whom he was hopelessly in love. I gave Azrael about a month before he died and lost my bottle again.”
Mal choked on a laugh. “Lucy, I’m sorry.”
Lucy shrugged. “About Tristan? I got him killed a few years later—made him overreach himself in a battle, watched while his enemy’s spider golem tore him to pieces. Avarice can be just as deadly as any other vice. He didn’t think I was capable of—”
“No,” interrupted Mal, “I’m sorry. For me. For everything.” His eyes looked unnaturally bright, his face little more than shadows.
Lucy noticed with alarm that bits of his hair seemed to be streaming into the wind. “Mal…why don’t you be a cat again.”
He gave a watery smile. “I’m not sure I can. I didn’t mean to shift just now. I’m having trouble holding my shape.” He held up a hand and they both watched as it disintegrated into whirling black smoke. Mal shut his eyes, made an obvious effort, and pulled his ess
ence back to reform his hand. It was thoroughly transparent in the firelight.
Mal spoke in a rush. “You might as well eat me, Lucy. Otherwise, the dreamcatcher will. Maybe then you’ll have enough strength to survive until someone cracks this thing open. Tell Azrael and Jessica I love them. Even if you don’t think I can love anyone, tell them I said so.”
Lucy was silent for a long moment. “Come here, dove.”
Mal scooted against her. He was trembling.
Lucy put an arm around him. She sat up straight and turned his face towards hers with a finger. Mal swallowed. She tucked a strand of dark curls behind his ear.
His face crumpled. “Lucy, this is the opposite of quick. I know I’m not supposed to be scared, but I am so scared. Please…”
“Mal,” she said patiently, “I told you: you are not going to die. I am not going to let you.” Then she kissed him.
Chapter 32
Mal
Mal was not often surprised by kisses. He was shocked by this one. Lucy’s magic hit him like water on parched ground, and he soaked it up without meaning to—a drowning man grasping at a fellow swimmer. An instant later, he pulled away, struggling to regain control of himself. He had Lucy’s face in both hands.
She ran her tongue over her lip. “Gods below, Mal. Did you just bite me?”
“S-sorry. Did you just kiss me?”
“Yes, of course I kissed you. How else am I supposed to get magic into you?”
Mal stared at her. “But…the dreamcatcher will eat you, too! I know you said there’s a piece of you in your bottle, but without a way to feed, you’ll be drained eventually.”
Lucy gave him a dragon smile with too many teeth. “My bottle isn’t just void, Mal. It’s the void. A little piece of the astral plane. Haven’t you ever wondered why I don’t have to feed as long as I can sleep there for a while?”
Mal gaped at her. “That’s why you’re almost as strong as an astral demon,” he whispered.
“Azrael can’t figure out how it was done,” continued Lucy. “Some lost technique, probably forbidden since the Rift Wars.”
Mal swallowed. “So…the dreamcatcher really can’t eat you up?”
Lucy shrugged. “I don’t think so. I guess we’ll find out. I do have every confidence that Azrael will crush this thing. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like he’ll manage to do that before it digests you. I will not let that happen.”
Mal’s vision was coming and going. “Thank you?” Am I really not about to die? He’d been so braced for it. He realized that he still had his large hands on either side of Lucy’s deceptively delicate face, her fine, silvery hair between his fingers. He didn’t know if that was right. He was afraid to say, Do you actually want me? Because I’m not sure how well this will work otherwise. Their power differential was so great now that Lucy might as well have been warded for all he could sense of her desires.
“I’m not exactly at my best,” whispered Mal.
Lucy rolled her eyes. She kissed him again and didn’t stop. Her magic shuddered through Mal like fire on dry leaves, like color in a gray world, like life. Mal’s arms slid around her instinctively, one hand spread over her back against the soft fabric of her sweater, the other wrapping around her hip. Mal could feel her spine move under his fingers. He broke the kiss with an effort and rested his forehead against hers, shivering. “Gods, that’s good. Lucy, Lucy… Tell me where to put my hands. I don’t know—”
“You’re fine,” said Lucy. She was breathing a little more quickly. Mal wondered if he was taking too much magic. He couldn’t tell. His sense of proportion had vanished with his ability to regulate his shape. Lucy slid her arms around his neck. They were still sitting side by side, snuggled together on the sand.
Mal kissed her forehead. He had to force himself not to lick her like a lollipop. Lucy tilted her face up, and her deep blue eyes flashed gold. She had color in her cheeks. Her parted lips looked red with more than lipstick. Mal felt a strange sense of having stumbled into something beyond him. She was classy, sophisticated, mysterious, expensive. She was far too refined for him, but he wanted her.
Mal blinked and then giggled like a boy. “You are using magic on me.”
Lucy laughed, too. Mal tucked his head against her shoulder, shivering and kissed the side of her neck above her sweater. “It’s working.”
“Of course it’s working. I am Avarice.”
“How desperate do you want me? I’m already so hungry it hurts.”
Lucy snickered against his ear. “Avarice and Lust are actually quite similar. They’re both about desire.” She ran her tongue around the rim of his ear, and Mal couldn’t repress a whimper. “But your magic is all about sex, and mine has more scope.”
“You win?”
Lucy sighed. “I do feel rather as though I’m taking advantage. You seem like a puppy to me. You, Azrael, Jessica—puppies, the lot of you.”
Mal pulled back to give her a raised eyebrow. “I am older than you, Lucy. I am technically ageless.” He leaned closer and murmured. “Azrael likes the human side of me, but if you want the astral incubus older than stars…I can be that, too.”
“Is the older-than-stars version less whiny?” whispered Lucy with mock sincerity. “I had no idea such a version of you existed!”
“Fuck you,” said Mal sweetly.
Lucy kissed him again.
Chapter 33
Azrael
Azrael woke, sitting up in his bed. He was not surprised to find a pen in his hand. The words on his headboard had become deep grooves: “Something is feeding on”
There followed the beginning of a letter that seemed to waver and die. He’d traced the previous letters over and over, but he couldn’t seem to finish the sentence.
I must have a moment of lucidity when I wake. Then I lose it.
He saw that he was wearing his nightshirt. However, overtop of it, he was also wearing the fur coat. I’m supposed to keep it on. Was that my idea? Or the script’s?
Azrael got out of bed, feeling stiff and unwell, and walked across the room to his wardrobe. The project in his garden was almost finished, and the guests would be arriving tomorrow. He needed to install the finishing touches. He needed—
Something shot out from under his bed. Azrael caught a glimpse of it in the mirrored door of his wardrobe—a naked man, preternaturally fast. Assassin! Azrael’s hand dove for the pocket of the fur cape.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, my lord.” The man clamped Azrael’s arms behind his back in a grip like iron. To his horror, Azrael felt the cold touch of spelled steel on his wrists—instruments that he’d created years ago for dealing with magical creatures. A pair had been in the bottom drawer of his wardrobe, forgotten. How did he know?
In desperation, Azrael reached for magic to blast this villain into the Shadow Lands and beyond. However, his power seemed strangely blunted. The spell that hissed out between his teeth barely made this attacker grunt.
Azrael caught a flash in the mirror—silver around the other man’s neck. My focus! Why hadn’t he worn it to bed? Why had he ever taken it off?
Azrael finally got a good look at his attacker’s face. “You backstabbing little shit!” he snarled. “You ungrateful cur! Did your family put you up to this? I should have drowned you on the day you arrived like the unwanted whelp you are! I’ll make you sorry they didn’t bury you on your home island with a silver stake through your heart. I’ll use you as bait for a chimera trap and send whatever’s left to your bitch mother!”
Tod Loudain looked pale as milk in the mirror over Azrael’s shoulder. “My lord, please, I am so sorry, but you told me to do this.”
Azrael attempted to break Tod’s nose with a swift lash of his head, but Tod dodged with a speed that suggested he’d jettisoned his inhibitor. Of course he had. He dragged Azrael across the floor, swearing and thrashing. “You’re the one who’s responsible for this memory magic, aren’t you? Thief. You will not get away with this.”
“I’m not going to feed you to chimera after all,” panted Azrael as Tod threw him down across his own bed, face planted in a pillow. “I am going to put such a collar on you that demons will weep to see it. You want to be a wolf? I’ll make you a wolf for all your days. I’ll chain you to my gates to keep watch, never to speak to another soul, and prolong your miserable life with magic until the stars burn out.”
Azrael could feel the young man trembling against him. He was leaning heavily on Azrael’s back, pinning him to the bed, fumbling for something in a bedside drawer with his free hand. Azrael had thought that Tod was naked simply because he’d come as a wolf, but this position suggested something else. Does he intend to violate me before killing me?
Azrael searched frantically for some way to reach his own magic through the haze of the spelled steel without his focus. Or maybe not without it. Azrael arched his back, bringing the nape of his neck into contact with the necklace against Tod’s chest. Chew on this, you bastard. He opened his mouth to unleash something truly unpleasant…and Tod poured a quarter-full shot glass of fluid between his lips.
Azrael coughed, gagged. He started to say the words he’d been preparing, but his tongue felt thick. Tod backed off of him. The necklace broke contact with his skin, and the chance was lost. Azrael spun around, still cuffed, sliding off the bed to sit on the floor. He glared at Tod through the drugged haze. The young man stood there naked, trembling and hugging himself. “Lord Azrael, please don’t be angry. I am so sorry. I’m doing what you asked.”
“Fuck you,” slurred Azrael and fell asleep.
Chapter 34
Mal
Mal was growing more solid. He hadn’t stopped to look, but he could feel his own essence coalescing, his control of his shape improving, the full range of his senses returning. He got a better grip on the magical transference between himself and Lucy and slowed it down. Feeding on her was like eating something rich with more cream than sugar—easy to go too fast. He still had no idea what she wanted sexually or how much magic she could truly afford to give him. She was cloaking expertly. As usual. Mal had pushed through Lucy’s cloaking in the past with brute force, but he wasn’t about to try that now.