Shadowstorm (The Shadow World Book 6)

by Dianne Sylvan

  Deven pulled back, feeling suddenly exposed, flushing and grabbing at the comforter even though he was clothed. “Kai.”

  The Bard, who was dressed in the sort of lounging robe one might wear while surrounded by adoring Elven lads and/or lasses, merely held his gaze a moment, unspeaking. What was it about him that was so goddamned unnerving?

  Finally Kai said, “I was passing by. You cried out — it sounded as though you were in agony. I felt compelled to come to your aid.”

  “I’m fine,” Deven replied automatically…but he wasn’t fine, and he and the Elf both knew it. His voice shook, as did the rest of him…why was he still so cold? The fire was still dancing, and with the endless rain of an early Fall—for Texas anyway—the central heat was set pretty high.

  Kai picked up the thought easily, which was even more unsettling than his being here at all—Deven’s shields were seven centuries old and well nigh impenetrable, but to an empath as powerful as Kai apparently was, they seemed transparent. “What you are feeling is not external,” he said. “You have driven all the love from your life, or tried to—without it nothing can be warm.”

  Deven tried to roll his eyes, but a headache slammed right between them and wrapped itself around his skull, squeezing hard. He put his head in his hands. If this were his old life, he would have been able to turn to the other side of the bed and give Jonathan a look of entreaty…the blonde would touch a hand to Deven’s forehead, and in seconds the bond between them would banish the pain.

  That was all gone now. Gone.

  He tried to dredge up the strength to tell the Elf to leave. He didn’t want those dark eyes stripping away all his defenses. Kai looked too much like Nico and felt too much like David, and both of them were together now, touching, kissing, lost in each other while Deven wasted precious months he could have been in that bed…he could be there now…no…never. That part of him was dead, and lucky to be dead.

  He tried to speak again, to order Kai out of the room, but what came out of his mouth was completely unexpected.

  “It hurts,” he whispered. “Help me.”

  He didn’t know Kai at all, but he had a feeling that the expression on the Bard’s face wasn’t one often seen. Kai drew a surprised breath, the cultivated stillness of his countenance softening into genuine emotion. If it had been pity, Deven would have shrunk back from it; but it wasn’t pity, it was the same compassion Miranda had offered outside the hospital that he had thrown back in her face. An empath’s love. All she had wanted was to love him. So many people wanted to love him. Why? Why?

  Again, Kai read the thought without effort, and again a surprise: for just a moment his eyes grew bright, and he closed them and took a deep breath.

  “Why?” Kai asked quietly. “How can you ask such a thing? Do you think we are all too stupid to know better? Do you value our love so little that you think it born of delusion?”

  “You don’t know me,” Deven said. “You don’t know what I’ve done to everyone…I break things. I break people. I don’t deserve your love. I don’t understand why none of you can see that.”

  “Then you are the delusional one,” Kai replied. “I am an empath, like your Queen. It is what makes me a Bard, the ability to affect emotion through sound, but I can also read people on sight as I did you. Your Queen is one of the most powerful empaths I have ever met, and I outmatch her only due to age and experience. Both of us can see to the truth of someone’s heart in seconds. We know who is evil, who is kind, whose soul is black and whose is gold. Miranda loves you more than you can conceive of—she, who would know immediately if you were worthless or irredeemable. What do you say to that? Is she a fool?”

  Deven had no answer for him, so he went on. “Your fear has turned to poison in your veins, and now it has become hate, toxic and slowly killing what cannot die…but what you will not see, we all see. I see.”

  His mind was swimming in circles, caught in the quiet storm in the Bard’s eyes. “What…what do you see?”

  A touch of amusement and sadness both together in Kai’s voice: “I see that for all your faults, in spite of whatever crimes you have—or believe you have—committed, no matter what you do or how hard you push everyone away, the fact remains, and is obvious to anyone willing to truly see you: you are beautiful, my Lord, in every way possible, and we would all move heaven and earth to make you see it too.”

  Damn it…damn him…Deven couldn’t stop the first hot tear from falling, or the second, and though he tried to turn away in shame at being so weak and broken, a hand took gentle hold of his face and held him still.

  Kai leaned forward to rest his forehead against Deven’s, and that familiar scent that David claimed was “trees and cookies” but was really just “Elf” seemed to ease something in Deven’s chest, letting him exhale. He could feel the Bard’s energy moving over him, lightly, like the barest lover’s caress; it had the same “flavor” as Miranda’s, but was infinitely deeper and wiser, and Deven realized he had completely misjudged the Elf, as he suspected most people did. There was a well of love in Kai that perhaps only his twin and Miranda knew existed.

  “I am sorry,” Kai said softly. “I am sorry you hurt…I am sorry you have lost so much…sorry that I thought so unkindly of you all this time when I might have been able to help you. And I am sorry that you make it all so much harder on yourself than it needs to be.”

  “How can you help?” Deven could scarcely speak above a whisper, but the quiet and intimacy of the moment demanded an equally intimate tone.

  “At this moment? I can stay with you and help you rest. You need not worry any farther than that. Just let me do what I can for you.”

  Deven closed his eyes tightly. He didn’t know what to do or what to say. But though he might be temporarily paralyzed, Kai was not; he slid his arms around Deven and eased him back into the pillows, settling in close and drawing the comforter up over them both. He didn’t make any sort of move beyond that, but coaxed Deven’s head to his shoulder, and lay back with him, silent again for a long while.

  Deven felt all the remaining tension flood out of his body, and for the first time in months he was completely relaxed, finally touching something of the peace he’d craved. Without really meaning to he burrowed into the Bard’s neck, wanting to be as close to that peace as possible, and heard a quiet chuckle followed a moment later by a half-whispered voice twining itself around the lyrical Elven language, a melody Deven knew so well it felt like Kai had drawn it out of Deven’s own soul.

  “As the Moon embraces the silver stars,

  As the golden Sun adores the color blue…”

  It should have been astonishing, Deven supposed, that Kai would just happen to choose that song at that moment; but Deven was simply too weary for surprise, and accepted it as he accepted the fact that it wasn’t just a lullaby, it was magic. The old words took on new meaning now that they were clothed in such compassion. That power asked nothing of him; it only wanted to touch him and gently wash some of the pain away.

  He let it. He could not do otherwise. And true to the Bard’s word, Deven felt sleep rising up over his mind and body as slowly and gently as a summer sunset. Deven closed his eyes, smiling with relief.

  He felt one long-fingered, strong hand glide over his face. The fingers were callused from untold years of playing musical instruments. The Bard’s lips, however, were like silk—he kissed Deven softly on the mouth, again demanding nothing, only giving.

  Then Kai whispered against Deven’s lips, “Sleep,” and that was the last thing Deven knew for quite a while.

  Chapter Six

  From the very first night Miranda had been told she was in a mansion surrounded by vampires, she had come to expect surprises, usually unpleasant ones, around every corner.

  Two nights before she was due back in Austin, just after arriving in New York, she got a surprise that knocked her for a bit of a loop…and for the life of her she couldn’t decide if it was a good one or
a bad one. In the end she supposed it must be a little of both.

  She was to spend two nights at Prime Olivia’s Haven. The first was a night off for her and her Elite; she could get a little rest and recharge for one last show away from Texas, and have a chance to spend some time with Olivia, whom she had always wanted to know better. Even if David hadn’t been so attached to the dreadlocked Prime, Olivia had been the one to bring him home to his Queen, and that alone made her a worthy friend. And as with everyone in the Circle, Miranda felt drawn to Olivia both empathically and on a deeper, more instinctive level she imagined only the elder children of Persephone would understand.

  Still, as much as she wanted to visit Olivia, Miranda’s nerves were damn near shot. She’d managed to go the entire three weeks of her tour without running home to Austin, a minor miracle for any Pair. A big part of the reason was that David’s end of the bond was currently very well grounded in a certain lovely pointy-eared boy. The Prime had, in fact, been in bed with said boy for nearly 72 hours without leaving the bedroom except to deal with the most strictly necessary Signet business.

  Miranda was still surprised at herself. She didn’t feel resentful of his time with Nico, though she very well might once she got home and actually saw them interact now that they were lovers. She was prepared for jealousy or whatever might come up, but at the moment she knew this thing they had was new and burning bright, and it wasn’t as if the Elf was taking attention away from her. They were getting the first intense few days out of the way while she was out of the house…and even with the allure of endless Elven shaggery, she could sense David was starting to lose it as well—an edge had crept into his voice, and she could feel his energy reaching across the miles, trying to touch hers with increasing need. She might have called a halt to things but there were only two nights left, and she really wanted to prove—to herself? To the world? She wasn’t sure—she could survive on her own, mystical bond or no.

  Curled up in the back seat of the car, Miranda felt a chill. She had survived without him, once. It had been hell.

  That wasn’t what she wanted. She just valued her independence too highly…and what she’d seen of most other Queens had made her doubly determined. She was no doting housewife, no trophy.

  David had given her the over-the-phone equivalent of an “are you mental” look when she confessed that.

  “I don’t think anyone on the planet would mistake you for a typical Queen,” he said. “Why would you?”

  She didn’t have an answer at the time, though she had something of one now. With everything in flux—her identity, her marriage, the Shadow World itself—she needed to be sure of certain things about herself. In a way this tour had been one of them. She needed to be Miranda Grey, multiplatinum musician, as much as she needed to be Miranda Grey-Solomon, Thirdborn vampire and Queen of the Southern United States.

  “Are you feeling well, my Lady?”

  Miranda looked over at the other end of the seat. “Yes, Avi…I think so. How far out are we?”

  He checked his phone. “About twenty-five minutes with the traffic.”

  “Good…I could do with a night off. I’m sure you could too.”

  “Only if you are comfortable in the hands of the Northeastern Elite,” he replied. “If for any reason you prefer me to stay on duty I shall gladly do so.”

  She chuckled. “Do you ever relax, Avi? Do you have hobbies, sport, anything like that?”

  He gave her a rare smile. “I paint.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Really? I would not have pegged you as an artist.”

  “Few would. That, I think, was why I was drawn to it. That, and my wife encouraged me.”

  “You’re married?” she asked, genuinely shocked. “You don’t have any dependents or next of kin listed in your file.”

  “No, I do not. It was a long time ago.”

  She realized what he meant, and chagrined, said, “God, I’m sorry. I had no right to ask such personal questions.”

  Another smile, this one thinner but no less sincere. He really was quite handsome when he wasn’t so Very Serious Indeed. “As I said, it was long ago. I devoted myself to the Signet shortly thereafter in order to channel my emotions over the loss.”

  “And you were Israel’s Second until he was assassinated.” At his nod, she said casually, “Have you thought about taking on that kind of responsibility again?”

  Now, his eyebrow lifted, but if he got her meaning, he didn’t say so. “I believe it would depend entirely on who I was fighting for, my Lady. I have in my life given my loyalty to four people, and each time it was unbreakable. Such a commitment is a grave thing.”

  “Israel, Israel’s Queen, your wife, and…who was the fourth?”

  She couldn’t help but ask, even though it was a highly inappropriate question. He was such a cipher, and she couldn’t resist poking at someone that shielded, even if he weren’t in the running for Second. This trip had given her ample reason to recommend him for the job, but not only was she an empath, she was Queen; if she wanted this man to work for her that closely she could leave no stone unturned.

  He started to answer—and she knew he would dissemble, which was fine, but she wanted to hear his choice of words—but the intercom buzzed, and the driver announced that they were at their destination.

  As the car rolled to a stop, Avi nodded to her and got out, coming around to open her door. Miranda unfolded herself from the increasingly uncomfortable seat and looked around with interest.

  It was her second trip to New York, but the first hadn’t exactly been a vacation. She and David had slipped into the city and made a beeline for Hart. Not a lot of sightseeing involved in decapitation, though the view through Hart’s window with his blood spattered over the glass was rather morbidly beautiful in the torchlight.

  Olivia’s Haven wasn’t even in the same part of town. One of her first acts as Prime had been to relocate her forces and have the old Haven demolished. She refused to live in the same building where Hart had abused and tortured so many women. The only way she could have made it clearer that she was in control would have been to piss on Hart’s remains. Miranda would happily have joined her.

  Olivia, though, was all class; she’d reached out to Hart’s many enemies and dedicated her rule to restoring the New York Shadow District, which had been driven into the ground by Hart’s illicit trades in drugs, slaves, and weapons. Olivia had swept the District clean in a few months of bloodshed and fire, and not only sealed her reputation as an ally of her people, but shown the world that the Signet’s will was still absolute and a woman’s fist could be made of iron the same as a man’s.

  David had said that Olivia’s ascent to the Haven reminded him of Deven’s, back in the 40s; Dev, too, had had something to prove to the Shadow World, and had done so without hesitation or remorse. Olivia however seemed a lot more…well, sane.

  Miranda stood as tall as she could as she walked down the aisle flanked by the Northeastern Elite that led from the street up to the Haven’s front doors. Olivia had chosen a modern yet classic building, reflecting the progress among vampire kind that had led to her rule, and she already employed twice as many swords as Hart ever had, in a diverse assortment to rival Austin’s.

  She noted how Avi checked out the entire scene before falling into step just behind her. The rest of her personal guard surrounded her, and thankfully between them and the Northeastern Elite she was mostly invisible outside the fence that surrounded the Haven; Miranda was so beyond done with reporters she had come dangerously close to snarling at the paparazzi hanging out at the airport. Showing her teeth in public was no way to end a successful tour.

  Up at the top of the steps Prime Olivia Daniels waited for her, smiling; she was as impressive as ever, her olive skin nearly glowing with vitality and her tattoos practically alive as they twisted and climbed all over her body. She was armed, but for a diplomatic meeting rather than battle—enough weapons to mean business but
not so many as to indicate she anticipated a threat. The Signet that had once hung from Hart’s throat—after a good deal of cleaning and polishing — now hung from hers, its sapphire shining in the street lights. She was, quite honestly, the sexiest woman Miranda had ever met.

  Miranda stopped at the foot of the steps and bowed. “Queen Olivia Daniels of the Northeastern United States,” she said clearly, letting her voice fill the courtyard, “I bring you greetings and goodwill from the Haven of the South.”

  Olivia bowed in return. “Your goodwill is returned with gratitude, and my own offered,” she replied. “I bid you welcome to the Haven of the Northeast. I hope that your stay…will…”

  Miranda frowned. Olivia trailed off, her formal greeting sputtering to silence on her lips as she went suddenly pale. Her wide eyes went even wider, and she took an involuntary step back.

  Miranda’s hand went to Shadowflame’s hilt and she flipped the leather strap, drawing the blade as she spun toward whatever had spooked the Prime. She heard dozens of Elite around her doing the same, but no one charged—one look at Olivia told her why.

  The Prime had one hand on her sword, the other over her mouth, and Miranda’s eyes fell on the one thing she had not expected to see tonight:

  Olivia’s Signet…

  …flashing.

  Miranda turned again, following Olivia’s thunderstruck gaze, but she knew what she would see, intuition hitting her like a punch in the gut a second before her gaze fell on her would-be Second, Avishai Shavit, who was staring at Olivia with astonishment, awe, and fear…but above all, with recognition.

  *****

  David lowered the phone slowly, and he knew by the concern on Nico’s face that his own expression must be hilarious.

  “Are you all right?” the Elf asked, sitting up. “Is it Miranda? Is she hurt?”

  He shook his head, still numb, but dropped the phone on the chair and put both hands on the chair’s back. “She’s fine, just…”