It was not a comforting thought. Neither was the thought that the someone taking things in hand was probably going to be him.
He was, therefore, in a fairly dark mood when he arrived at the ritual room, where Stella, Nico, and Kai were already waiting for him. Stella had candles burning on the altar with a typical Wiccan array of tools and décor. They’d also piled a dozen or so cushions on the floor, and Nico was sitting cross-legged on one, looking tired and faintly sick. Kai was fussing over him as usual, and David caught himself having another moment of the tiniest bit of appreciation, if not affection, for the Bard. It was something of a relief, really—he and Kai might never really like each other, but they needed to be able to coexist, and if they could be friendly, so much the better, for Nico’s sake and Miranda’s.
Kai seemed to agree. He gave David a nod in greeting. Nico, on the other hand, smiled like the moon rising on a cloudless night, and all worries about the Council and vampire society vanished under that light.
Stella was in a more serious mood than usual. “Okay,” she said, taking one last look at the altar to make sure nothing was missing. “If you guys will have a seat facing each other, we can get started.”
Kai looked worried but determined, and squeezed Nico’s shoulder lightly. “I’ll be close by if you need me,” he told his twin, and left the room, looking back at Nico one more time before closing the door.
David gave Nico what he hoped was a reassuring smile as Stella circumambulated the room, marking the boundary of a large circle with salt, water, and incense. Slowly David could feel something in the room changing; he didn’t have the Sight the others did, but he could definitely sense the Witch at work. The room felt closed off, removed from the ordinary world.
Stella settled herself on another cushion so that the three of them were in a triangle. “Make sure there’s one behind you,” she told David. “Just in case this knocks you out and you fall over.”
“Are you going to help, Nico?” David asked. He kept his voice low—the air in the room had taken on the feeling of a church, or a grove of ancient trees where no one would dare speak above a hushed, reverent tone.
The Weaver shook his head. “I am useless, I fear,” he said. “I have not been able to Weave for a long time, and I lost my vision of the Web months ago. I get glimpses, and when Stella and I work together I can See more, but she needs her full attention on the task at hand.”
David lowered his eyes, trying to stay grounded, but the matter-of-fact way Nico spoke of losing the gift that made him who he was, was heartbreaking. Sadness and anger both tried to claw their way up his chest, but he smoothed them over carefully before they could leak out.
“Tell me what you need me to do,” he told Stella.
The Witch’s eyes were closed, but she grinned. “Hold hands and shut up,” she replied.
Prime and Weaver smiled at each other and laced their fingers together.
David wasn’t the sort of person who was content to just sit still and let other people work—he felt like he ought to be doing something, especially since for a while it seemed like Stella was just meditating.
Then, she asked, “Nico…can I bring you in for a look? I have it narrowed down to two strands, but I could use a second opinion.”
“Of course,” Nico said, and closed his eyes. As if he sensed David’s discomfort, he narrated what he was seeing. “There are two possible places in your Web where she can anchor the link between us. One is more powerful, but it runs deeper; the other is more superficial.”
“Why not use the deeper one?” David asked.
The Elf smiled. “The deeper she reaches for the power, the more intimate the connection—we might get more than we bargained for, you especially. Connecting to that one will be less draining for you, as it’s closer to the core of your being, but you run the risk of having me wrapped more tightly in you than you wanted.”
“We’re not talking Signet bond level, are we?”
“Oh, no,” Stella said. “Even the deeper strand is way, way weaker than that. It won’t come anywhere near your bond with Miranda, either in power or proximity. There are levels of connection a Signet bond reaches that go way beyond simple energy exchange. He might get echoes of it, but that’s all. On the other hand if we use the superficial strand you won’t be as solidly connected, but it will probably make you more tired than the other. It’s like your bond with Miranda is your aorta, the inner strand is your femoral artery, and the other is whatever vein it is in your arm that they stick needles in.”
“Femoral artery,” David said firmly.
“Are you sure?” Nico asked. “We cannot predict the consequences.”
“I’m sure—for one thing, if you’re going to be yourself again you need strength, and some arm vein isn’t going to do it. For another, I can’t afford to walk around like I have an IV line in 24/7. I’ve dealt with chronic low-level weakness before; it’s impossible to do my job if I’m draped over a fainting couch.”
Stella chuckled, probably at the mental image. “All right,” she said. “Let’s do it. You can step back, Nico—if I need your eyes again I’ll say so.”
“Very well.”
Nico squeezed David’s hands. David wondered if the Elf was afraid; he wasn’t showing it, but this had to be at least a little scary, the thought of being connected to a Thirdborn even on a mostly-superficial level. There could be just as many consequences for Nico as for him. At the very least he should be a little anxious.
Actually, he was; despite his calm exterior he was afraid that it wouldn’t work, that he had gotten his hopes up for nothing yet again…or that David would hate being linked and want it severed…David could feel him resolutely staying grounded, but he was…
…wait…
“Did you feel that?” Nico asked quietly.
“Yes.”
“Not quite there,” Stella murmured. “The link is made but I’m holding it shut for a second while I make sure there aren’t any weak spots. In a minute when I let it go you’ll probably both get one hell of a head rush.”
She was, it turned out, understating things a little. A moment later David felt like something was sucking his mind out of his head; the sensation was a little too familiar, a little too like dying, and he nearly panicked, the terror-laden noise of those memories thundering in his mind.
“It’s all right,” he heard the Elf say gently. “I’m not going to hurt you…just breathe…it’ll stop in a…moment…” Suddenly Nico gasped.
David’s eyes snapped open. “Are you okay?”
But Nico was smiling, and in a few seconds a tear fell from one of his closed eyes. “I can see it,” he said. “The Web…I can see it. You’ve given me my Sight back.”
David’s heart leapt. He held onto Nico’s hands tightly; he could sense the Elf doing what he couldn’t for so long, looking over Stella’s work with approval, then examining the link to see how deeply it—
Nico jerked his hands away from David, who was shocked at the abrupt change in Nico’s face. It no longer showed joy or concentration.
Fear.
He was staring at David wide-eyed, breathing hard, and forcing himself not to shrink away.
“What’s wrong?” David asked.
Stella looked worried, too, and put her hand on Nico’s knee. “Sweetie, what is it? Is it not working?”
Nico visibly steeled himself to sit straight again, slowing his breathing inch by inch. “I’m fine,” he said. It wasn’t remotely believable. “Yes, it’s working…I can feel things changing. In fact I…damn.”
The Elf barely had the word out before he toppled over sideways. Luckily there was a cushion there too, and he didn’t strike his head on the hard floor.
David looked at Stella. “What was that?”
She shrugged. “Not much telling. But it’s as done as it can be. If it starts to cause pain, or you feel tired for more than a day or so, we’ll have to undo it. For now you should probably stay together—physical
contact can help seal this sort of thing, and at the very least he’s going to sleep for a while. You should too.”
Taking a deep breath, David nodded. “Thank you, Stella.”
A smile. “You’re always very welcome.”
She got up and set to taking down the circle, returning the room to its ordinary atmosphere; meanwhile, David got up slowly, checking for dizziness before he bent to lift the Elf up off the floor.
“Once he wakes up send me a text just to check in,” Stella told him.
David said he would, then carried Nico’s far-too-light body out of the ritual room and back to the Elf’s own bed.
*****
It was several hours before Nico woke, and in that time David dozed off once or twice but started awake every time he heard a noise. He could feel things changing—something pulling at him almost delicately, working its way in to take root, then settling down and tapering off until he could barely feel it. It was a remarkably gentle kind of magic, even pleasant, and nothing like the immense drain when Miranda had bound them briefly to Deven. Stella had been right; this link was lighter, far less deep. Judging from the strength of the current he would have to be in physical contact with Nico to sense anything beyond what he could already read. That was good. David didn’t want anything to compete with his bond to Miranda—he’d seen how impossible that kind of situation was.
He caught echoes of Nico’s dreams, nothing specific but some watery images and emotions. He wasn’t aware he’d drifted off again until he woke with a jolt and looked into Nico’s wide, frightened eyes.
They stared at each other a minute. “All right,” David said, “Tell me.”
Nico sat up, then put a hand to his forehead in what looked like a vain attempt to stave off dizziness. He shut his eyes tightly for a few seconds and didn’t look at David as he said, “When the connection opened up, I…saw things.”
“What things?”
Nico met his eyes, took a breath, and said softly, “The New Moon.”
David’s heart tumbled down to the floor. He had hoped that, of all the things the Elf might learn about him in those brief moments, that that would not be one of them. It was one thing to know he’d done violent things in the past, but this was now…and was going to keep happening. “Oh.”
Nico’s hands held onto the comforter so hard they shook. “And the Queen, too. You’re both…”
Now David sighed. “Just say it, Nico. Don’t dance around it. I’m a murderer. Miranda is a murderer. That’s just how it is. I had to accept what would come as the price of coming back from the dead as Thirdborn — it was the price of coming back to her, one we both willingly paid. That’s why she and I didn’t want to sire you through our blood—you would have been just like us.”
Nico drew his knees up to his chin, looking utterly shell-shocked. “But…you enjoy it.”
A flare of anger lit in David’s heart—defensive, to be sure, but anger still. “Yes, I do,” he snapped, sitting up. “It’s what I was made for. What we were all made for. We live in denial of the fact that we were created to kill humans, to control their numbers. We failed at that mission, and they turned around and killed your people and ours, and Witches, and each other for centuries. And if the price of being able to stop Morningstar, or any other threat to our world, is that every month I have to drain some rapist until he shrivels like a prune, I will revel in it and walk away smiling.”
He let the power in his aura flare as well, letting the Elf see just what he’d gotten into. “You knew what we were, what I am, when you came here.”
He knew Nico could sense what he was doing; but the Elf was still staring at him, his fear turning gradually into sadness.
Nico nodded slowly. “Yes…I knew. I abandoned my own people and my life to help you, and even if I did regret it, there’s no turning back.”
Now, David lowered his eyes. “Fine,” he said, defeated. “If you want I’ll call Stella and she can undo—”
“No,” Nico said vehemently, expression changing completely. “No, I don’t want that.” He turned toward David and lifted a hand to his face; the relief that Nico hadn’t decided he was too monstrous to be touched was almost overwhelming.
They leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “I don’t want that,” Nico repeated. “I’m sorry. I knew there were things in your life I wouldn’t want to see, but it was still a shock when it hit me. I can’t say it doesn’t hurt, but…I know you have no choice. At heart I know what kind of man you are, David.”
“And what kind is that?”
Nico smiled. “The kind I love.”
David stared at him, and the surprise on his face was apparently rather amusing to the Elf, who chuckled, kissed his nose, and stretched back out under the blankets. In the midst of trying to figure out what to say, David noticed Nico already looked better—his face was less drawn, and light had rekindled in his eyes. He was still moving slowly and still looked exhausted, but even a few hours had made a big difference.
Nico closed his eyes, still smiling, but now wryly. “David Solomon speechless,” he said. “Surely a sign of impending doom for one and all.” One eye opened partway. “Close your mouth and get in here. I’m freezing.”
David nodded, still mute, and did as the Elf directed, sliding in next to him and drawing him close. His mind offered a comparison: Miranda preferred to be the little spoon, with her Prime against her back, both facing the same direction; Nico liked sleeping face to face. He thought back—no matter how they fell asleep he’d always woken to find Deven on the other side of the bed, connected only by a hand around David’s throat or on his chest, anywhere he could feel a pulse.
It was the first time he’d really thought about the differences in an entire year of snuggling and kissing the Elf. Perhaps now that there was a real possibility they could give each other more, his thoughts were allowing themselves to wander…no, more like cartwheel…in that direction.
Not to mention it took his mind off Nico’s words.
In most of his relationships David had been the one to say it first. Despite all of his emotional defenses, that had always come easily—by the time he made the declaration, it seemed like a foregone conclusion. It was logical to say it, because there was no doubt it was true, and it was important the other person know. Of course he loved Miranda. Of course he had loved Deven.
Did he love Nico?
Of course he did.
He had, in all reality, for a long time. Even in the first month of the Weaver’s stay, David found he couldn’t look at him without a sharp pain in his chest, breath catching, a visible shiver threatening to escape. As time wore on and Nico grew weaker, that pain softened into an ache that never left the Prime, letting him set aside that smoldering desire so he could be what Nico needed him to be until one day, he had hoped, things would get better for everyone.
But it had always been love. There was no doubt remaining.
By the time he reached that conclusion, of course, Nico was fast asleep.
That was all right. It could wait a little longer. For now, he followed his Elf’s fine example and settled in to sleep.
Chapter Four
Here.
She took a step closer to the cliff, shifting left and right until she knew—she felt—she was in the exact right spot. The angle facing the trees was right, the elevation right.
Here was where she had been standing that night when the world went to hell.
The wind was hard and cold out here without a sprawling complex of buildings to break it. The land leading up to the cliff was scoured bare, piles of rubble like hulking monsters in the dark. If this had been a human home, there might still have been bone fragments in the dirt, but when vampires died, nothing was left but metal.
She thought of the shattered, bloodstained Signet David had held out to her that night, recovered from the tumble of concrete where one of the best friends she’d ever had was crushed, holding on to life just long enough to say goodbye.
Everything about this place had been beautiful.
All of it was gone.
She looked out across the plain, picking out details: a boarded-over hole whose steps led down to the weapons vault door, and two more like it; one had held servers and other tech in a familiar system layout, and the other had been the odd variety of things you’d expect to find in a longtime couple’s attic. Everything from all three vaults had survived, and it was all in storage at her Haven. David was keeping it all together in case…just in case.
Miranda carefully picked her way back toward the memorial, glancing over at Avi, who stood guard at the car. His presence was comforting; he was an imposing man, amazing in battle but with a gentle way about him she couldn’t quite describe. He hadn’t been here that night, but he understood he was standing at the edge of a graveyard, and maintained a respectful silence.
She wasn’t sure who had built the memorial—probably the surviving staff or Elite who came back after the demolition crews to see the remains of their lives. Whoever they were, they had salvaged enough intact cinder blocks to build a semicircular windbreak, and inside that little enclosure were seven-day candles, crosses, cards leached colorless by rain, and other mementos of the people who had died here.
Among the tributes was a still-sealed bottle of Woodford Reserve. Miranda smiled, as well as at the small wood plaque carved with intricate Celtic knotwork—an offering for Deven, who she was almost, almost willing to concede had died here with his Consort. She still held on to that tiny scrap of hope, though it was shrinking more each night.
Her sigh was lost in the night air but the bricks caught her voice and held it well enough. “I didn’t really know what to bring you,” she said, sitting down cross-legged. “Everything I could think of just seemed so stupid. So I did what I do—I figured you’d like that best anyway.”
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