Shadowstorm (The Shadow World Book 6)

by Dianne Sylvan

  All of those images and sensations had the same general feel to them, as if she was watching them all through a slightly tinted lens. Dreams that came from her own subconscious were in full color.

  That morning, though, there were new memories, and they were nothing like what she had dreamed before.

  She saw high stone walls; those walls were bound up in the smells of beeswax and dampness, the feel of a wet winter’s chill. She heard the click-click of wooden beads. She felt her hand cramping from hours of slow, methodical writing, and her eyes ached from focusing too long in too little light. These were human aches and pains; she remembered what they felt like, but from a distance. The emotion, though, echoed throughout time no matter what kind of creature experienced it: in those long hours of writing, or praying…chanting the Divine Office… she felt happy, at peace, just for a while.

  Everything had a faded, almost sepia quality to it—more than just history, ancient history, leached of most of its color after hundreds of years.

  There was a boy in those walls whom she caught staring at her more than once. They both blushed and turned away with pounding hearts. Both reached for the same sheaf of papers, and both turned scarlet when their fingers brushed. Shy smiles across the chapel. Almost forgetting for a moment—almost—that if anyone saw, if anyone found out…

  She knew, without having to see, that it would end in blood.

  A stark contrast: trees whose tops soared so high overhead they disappeared into the fog; everything soft and blue, no sense of foreboding…but also no excitement, nothing to make her heartbeat fly into the treetops. Quiet life, same life, year in and year out.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes…I am sorry…I cannot tell you how to place it in a greater context, I can only tell you what I saw.”

  Even in the liquid silver syllables of the language, she could hear resignation in her own voice: “I am going to die.”

  “Yes, but…not for long.”

  That quiet life fell into nothing the night she stood amid the filth and decay of the human city, her attention riveted on the slender figure wandering the streets and sinking slowly to his knees in the one place he knew he could find silence, even as an apostate. She watched his hands press into the pavement, sorrow wailing up from every cell of his body, and she knew her time had come…time to step forward, to reach down, and…

  “You called…I am your answer.”

  Miranda opened her eyes slowly, not trusting her senses to tell her where she actually was—or when. Her mind was tumbling over itself showing her too many things at once, but luckily she remembered at some point that she was dreaming, and apparently woke herself up.

  She kept her eyes shut for a moment and just listened and felt. It was still raining outside, cool air from the windows meeting the warmth of the fireplace. The weight of the comforter was long familiar, though she wasn’t entirely sure what had happened to the sheet. The strangest thing was the feeling of not one, or two, but four presences in the bed.

  Well…no, that wasn’t the strangest thing.

  Not by a long shot, which was saying something.

  Not only could she feel the physical solidity of two extra bodies with her, she could sense the energy and emotions of both of them. As soon as she turned her awareness to them the “noise” intensified, and she nearly panicked; she couldn’t fully shield from it because it wasn’t hitting her from all sides the way crowds of people did…it was hitting her from inside. Even the strongest barrier would give way under that much energy. There was no escaping it, nowhere to go.

  Ground. Ground, Queen. You’re not some newborn vampire amateur. Ground.

  As soon as she got herself re-centered and firmly grounded, the noise migrated to the background, the same way her bond with David always had, ready to be drawn upon or touched any moment but not interfering in her own identity.

  That was when she fully understood what Nico had done.

  She remembered seeing him just before she’d lost consciousness. How had he woken, and moreover how had he woken as himself? What had changed? How could he have just stepped in and reworked the Web after everything he’d been through? Was the Web like the dreamtime, where Persephone could reach them and help?

  In the end, the reasons and mechanics were secondary to the unbelievable, inescapable truth:

  The Pair, so briefly a Trinity two years back, was now Four.

  What did it mean for the future? Was it permanent? Why just them and not the entire Circle? How was it supposed to work now?

  All the questions were dizzying. She forced herself to breathe more slowly, to stay grounded. There would be time to figure it out. She had to stay calm, for their sake if not her own.

  It occurred to her to actually stop and evaluate what she was getting from everyone; she was used to David’s emotions, and there were no warning bells ringing on his end. In fact, all she could sense from him right now was a quiet sort of happiness…a feeling mirrored in the first of their new bond-mates, while the second was still deeply unconscious and likely to stay that way for a while.

  She heard a murmur to her right, and a quiet chuckle, and cracked open one eye…then smiled.

  The Primes of the South and West—whatever the hell that even meant now—lay tangled up in each other and in the sheets, kissing slowly and sweetly, an almost lazy desire in the way they touched. She might have thought it was post-coital, but she’d have felt that, she knew, especially this close.

  David lifted his head and smiled down at Deven, but neither spoke for a while.

  Really, there didn’t seem much to say, at least not now. Right now, nothing had to exist beyond the fortunately gigantic bed and its tumble of linens and limbs. The love in their eyes—as full of wonder as it was any other emotion—was beautiful, if only because it was free now…free to show itself without fear. None of them had to look away anymore, or struggle to be “over” each other.

  “It’s impolite to stare,” David said with a grin, looking over at her.

  She grinned back. “Don’t mind me. Carry on.”

  Dev stretched out an arm and gestured for her hand; she gave it, and he asked, “How are you feeling, love?”

  “Amazing. You?”

  “Same. It’s ridiculous, really—I can’t seem to quit smiling.”

  Miranda shook her head and asked, “How did this happen? How could it?”

  “There’s only one person who can answer that,” David replied, “and we’ve got at least until sunset before he’s healed enough to wake again. He was with us for a few minutes earlier, but still way too confused for questions.”

  “Theoretically at least it makes sense we’d be okay for now,” added Deven. “An even number is far more stable. It’s easier to knock over a table with three legs.”

  “But that wasn’t the only problem last time—remember why it didn’t work?”

  “Because Deven was suicidal and crazy?” David frowned. “Wait, you’re right…there was something else. You’re not Thirdborn. Neither is Nico. The whole system should collapse…but it’s not. It’s as stable as any Signet bond I’ve ever seen.”

  “Maybe because there’s two of us and two of you?”

  Miranda caught David’s eye, and he lifted an eyebrow, then nodded and gently pried Dev’s mouth open with one finger. Now it was Deven’s turn to give an eyebrow, but he opened his mouth wider so David could poke lightly at one of his canines.

  The tooth extended as it should, along with its mate on the other side, but then—

  “Whoa!” David jerked his hand back as the teeth behind the canines lengthened slightly as well. “When the fuck did that happen?”

  Miranda’s heartbeat stepped up at the sight. Deven’s eyes went wide when he felt the change, and he touched his tongue to first one side then the other in disbelief.

  “I have no idea,” he said. Miranda noticed that even with his teeth lengthened his diction was as precise a
s always; she always felt like she sounded like a kid with braces when she tried to talk with her fangs out, but then she hadn’t been practicing for seven hundred years. “That feels so weird.”

  Miranda groped sideways for her phone on the bedside table and checked the time and date before dropping it back where it had been. “I think you were asleep long enough to go through the transition,” she observed. “You must not have felt a thing. It must have been an easy passage for once.”

  “Given what the two of you went through, I’m not exactly upset about that,” Deven replied wryly, moving his mouth around as his teeth returned to normal. “It does bring up a difficult question, though.” He glanced over to his right, where Nico slept on his back with his hands folded.

  Miranda got what he meant and her heart sank. “How are we going to tell him?”

  Dev sighed. “We’ll worry about that when he’s healed. Right now there’s nothing we can do about it.”

  “Are you hungry?” David asked. “You know how the change has to be sealed.”

  “No, not yet. I should be, just in general…but I’m not. I think all the energy running through us is clouding anything else, which would explain why I didn’t sense anything different. That’s good, though; it means there’s time for him to rest and finish healing…and for us as well. We’ve all been running at the edge of our endurance for weeks. I think the world can save itself for a couple of nights while we get some sleep.”

  “Sleep,” Miranda said with a raised eyebrow. “That’s certainly what it looked like to me.”

  She managed not to burst out laughing at the instantaneous worry on both of their faces, until Deven said uncertainly, “We weren’t actually…”

  Now she giggled. “You’re not seriously going to act self-conscious now, are you?”

  “We haven’t sorted out the rules for all this,” Deven pointed out, “Or even if there is an all this. For all I know it was a one-time thing, and waking up to find the two of us making out isn’t much of a ‘good morning’ for you.”

  “Yeah, well, for all I know, this was a one-time thing, and you’ve had enough girl for another seven centuries.”

  “Except for the part where you do know,” David retorted. “Let’s settle it: would you like to keep this going after today?” He pointed at Miranda.

  “Hell yes,” she said.

  He pointed at Deven.

  “Definitely.”

  David nodded and said, “So would I. There. Not to mention, if any of us is unhappy, we’ll all know now. You’re right about the need for rules, of course—the clearer we are, the fewer problems might arise. But at this particular moment I don’t think you need to worry.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Deven looked thoughtful, and added, “Of course all of this is subject to change once Nico is awake and himself again. I can’t imagine he would object to anything we decided, but still, at that point I think we need a sitting-up, clothes-on discussion.”

  Miranda laughed again. “I never thought I’d see the day I had the kind of relationship that required a board meeting,” she said. “But I’d rather be overly cautious than risk someone getting hurt when a little honesty could have helped avoid it. Right now, though…I think we can all agree that the two of you need to kiss some more. For starters.”

  The boys looked at each other. “She’s determined,” Deven noted.

  “You got your daydream,” Miranda told her husband reasonably. “Shouldn’t I get mine?”

  The Primes’ eyes met again. “What do you think?” David asked. “Any objections?”

  “Only that you’re not already kissing me.”

  David glanced over at her again. “All right, do you have any limitations, requests, things you’d rather not see…?”

  She thought about it for a moment, then smiled slowly—the kind of smile that made a faint flicker of anticipatory concern cross David’s face. When she spoke it was to Deven. “I’ve heard so many stories about you two, it’s hard to know what to ask for.”

  “Have you now,” he said, looking up at David, who shrugged good-naturedly.

  “About how you tore each other apart like animals…but not always. Sometimes, when it stormed outside and you locked the doors, and stayed in bed for days…the only words he could give me for that were ‘drowning’ and ‘dissolution,’ and I remember thinking how odd that was…I mean, I’ve seen him lose himself in the two of us, and I’ve seen intense and heard a lot of noise, but dissolution…what would that even look like? Do you remember how you managed that?”

  Deven met her eyes. Oh, yes, he definitely remembered that. He had catalogued every second, just as she’d hoped. He smiled.

  “Show me that,” Miranda asked, touching his face. “Show me our Prime undone.”

  David looked the tiniest bit alarmed at both her choice of words and her facial expression, and asked, “Don’t you want to help with that?”

  “I might. In a bit. Right now I just want to see what you two do to each other. I want to see drowning and dissolution.”

  Deven bowed his head almost formally. “As you will it, my Queen.”

  *****

  In those hours before he regained full consciousness Nico had some very odd dreams, mostly about the others having an impressive amount of rather athletic sex that was at turns deliriously passionate and prone to fits of giggling.

  It would have been extremely arousing if he hadn’t been so weak and confused, but as it was, the best he could manage was to be comforted by the idea of everyone together, and happy, without him.

  He had decided, in the course of half-waking and half-dreaming, that he was almost certainly dead. His memory was so blurry he couldn’t explain his surety, but he felt so far away from the world, so alone…and he knew he deserved it.

  Something very bad had happened. He had done something…he didn’t know what…but he could feel it, a second skin of crawling guilt he had no idea how to cope with.

  He’d wronged others before, carelessly, when he was young—not nearly as often as his blade-tongued brother had—but he had learned from those apologies, and it had been many years since he’d done anything unacceptable enough to feel actual guilt. The emotion had its uses; it could be a catalyst for change…but one of the first things he had understood about the human world, and its Shadow equivalent, was that people here wrapped guilt’s folds around themselves and wore it underneath nearly every outfit.

  It made more sense now. In Avilon there were few things he could do that would hurt someone as much as humans hurt each other. Cruelty simply wasn’t something the Elentheia were normally capable of, especially after having so much of it visited upon them by the Inquisition. Only the truly aberrant among his people would be able to willfully cause pain.

  Humans didn’t know how to forgive themselves. Forgiveness must be asked both through a window and before a mirror, but all the glass here was dark.

  He feared he was beginning to understand that too. Whatever had happened had been that unforgivable.

  Wrestling with these thoughts drove him toward wakefulness, and finally, he started awake in a blind panic, expecting that when he tried to move his limbs would still be chained down…

  They were not. In fact, he was comfortable, and felt…

  The word took a moment to arise. The room was warm, dimly lit, familiar—it was his own, he realized. He’d been living here for two years now. He had chosen the linens himself, and had been told to change whatever he liked, so he’d asked for more bookshelves, and for plants that could bear the continual shadow in the room. The twin smells of chlorophyll and vanillin from leaf and paper were like a soothing balm for his frayed nerves.

  Safe. He felt safe.

  Well, he could discard his theory. He was clearly alive. No one dead could ache so much. He felt like he’d been clenching every muscle in his body for days, especially in his neck and back. He could move everything now, but it hurt so badly to try
.

  Slowly, painfully, he sat up, rubbing his eyes to clear them though it didn’t really help. His vision wasn’t the problem; his mind was.

  Thus he only sensed a presence a mere second before the words: “Hey sweetie.”

  Nico turned toward her with a half-smile. His voice was a bit croaky as he said, “Stella…you have no idea how glad I am to see you.”

  She hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching his, but then hugged him. Her warmth and the quick beat of her heart were another comfort. She smelled like she always did, squeezed him tightly like always.

  “You’ve been out for days,” she told him. “Do you…what’s the last thing you remember?”

  Nico frowned. “I…” He groped for the memories, any memories, but everything seemed to be happening at once in his mind, and he couldn’t place anything recent in context or time. “I don’t know…everything is…damaged.”

  “You don’t remember anything?” She actually sounded hopeful.

  Dear Theia. “Stella, what did I do?” When he didn’t get an immediate response he went on, “You can barely look at me, and you apparently want me to have amnesia. All I know is I have this sense of terrible things that happened and I was involved, but I don’t understand what or why.”

  Stella bit her lip. “We’ll get to that…first, you might want to take a look at the Web.”

  He might have accused her of dissembling, but her tone was too serious, so he obeyed, bringing up the Sight effortlessly in the time it took to blink. It didn’t occur to him that was odd until he had already turned the vision to where he could see himself.

  Nico felt himself go pale as he stared at it, unbelieving. “What…what happened here?”

  “What does it look like to you?”

  “My magical strength has more than doubled — I’m easily where I was before I left Avilon…no, stronger. How can that be with the bond…strangled like…oh.”

  Now she cracked a smile at what was no doubt a memorably gobsmacked look on his face. “Yeah.”

  “But…” He could only think of one appropriate phrase. “What the fuck?”