Shadowstorm (The Shadow World Book 6)

by Dianne Sylvan

  “Oh my God,” Miranda didn’t want to believe it; it was too big, too strange. But if she put together everything she’d heard about vampire history, it made sense.

  They had all assumed that the origin myth of vampire kind and the story of the first Circle were two separate things…but they weren’t.

  She, David, Deven, and Nico were Thirdborn. The iteration of vampires that had given rise to the Signets were Secondborn.

  And according to myth, hidden deep in the earth by the Goddess Herself, were the Firstborn.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Over the next few days Nico fought his way out of nightmares over and over. Someone else spoke to him with Kai’s voice. Lesela fell to the ground with her hands at her throat, whispering, “Why?”

  In the dreams he killed them both with the same blade; he’d murdered Lesela and left her dying alone, so far from home and family and anything beautiful, merely as bait for the others. He could remember the hot splash of her blood, the intoxicating power of it. He never wanted to feel that again…but he knew he would.

  He would, but now he would have to finish it…he would have to kill, every month, forever. The need was building in him even now—more slowly than they’d expected, but building all the same.

  Lying in bed shaking violently and feebly fighting off soul-choking despair, he had to force that reality away from his mind. If he let himself think about now it he would lose his sanity, and there would be no coming back. His heart had taken too many blows in too little time.

  David came to see him and give him updates: Only about a dozen bodies had been pulled from the warehouse’s wreckage. David had chosen his explosives very deliberately to cause the hottest fire possible and destroy as much evidence as they could. He had pored over a schematic of the building to find the precise spots to hit so the whole front would come down. The back of the building faced a row of stores that might yet have had humans in them; as far as they knew there had been no casualties among the innocent.

  There was no sign of the Prophet—not that they’d expected any. David had contacted practically every vampire he knew of great age or wisdom, trying to find more than myth and legend about the Firstborn, but it would take time and persistence. It was likely their best hope was the Codex, and their second best the Order of Elysium, if he could convince them to talk. Since Deven had massacred the Cloister and Eladra, they wanted nothing to do with the Signets, but they might not have much choice if they wanted vampire kind to survive.

  Not to mention that while they might hate Deven, there was no way they could deny David for long. He would get the truth from them in whatever way he had to. Nico prayed his reputation was widespread enough that they would understand exactly what that meant and offer up whatever they knew before Deven became the least of their enemies. Deven would probably never raise a blade to the Order again no matter how dire the circumstances. David had no such reluctance.

  David lay down with him for a while, offering his endless reservoir of strength as he had so many times before. Nico clung to him, but though it was comforting, he couldn’t let his grief show for fear of drowning in it. He knew that David wanted to stay, mostly to keep an eye on him; everyone was treating him like he was made of spun glass and might break into shards at any second.

  He just might. He was not the strong person he had been when he set foot in California. Oh, magically he was more powerful than he had ever been—the other Weavers, always envious of his abilities, would be genuinely frightened of him now. But emotionally he was pathetically weak. There was only one place he might find solace…in the Signet bond…but he was afraid if he let them close, they would see what a failure they had in their midst…how could anyone want him now?

  Everything was broken. What fate had not destroyed he had killed on his own. He had failed at everything he’d turned his hand to.

  He told David he wanted some time alone. The Prime frowned, not agreeing in the slightest, but didn’t gainsay his wishes. “Call me the minute you change your mind,” he said lovingly, kissing Nico’s forehead. “At your word, I’ll be with you in a heartbeat or less.”

  It was quite remarkable how the Prime could be such a gentle, kind lover and still be a just but terrifying monarch. He brought many of the same skills to both.

  A strange thing, being loved so much. Nico didn’t deserve it, but nothing as silly as shattered self-esteem would hold the Prime back from one he loved. Nico envied him his confidence…always had. David was a force of nature matched only by his Queen, and they were the hands of the Goddess, and in many ways Her very being here on Earth.

  The third night, Nico stood in the hallway staring at a door for the fourth time in the last few days. He wanted to knock…he wanted to flee. The first two days he could make the excuse that it was too soon. Not so tonight.

  It took all the will he could summon, but he rapped lightly on the door, heart in his throat. At first he didn’t think there would be an answer.

  He was only too ready to retreat, but the door swung silently inward a few inches, an invitation without words.

  As he stepped into the room, lit only by fire, he heard music.

  Nico expected to see someone in the bed, but there were only rumpled sheets; his eyes fell on the armchair, where a slender figure sat cross-legged, eyes closed, a faint look of concentration on his face. The music was coming from a phone plugged into a set of speakers.

  The Prime looked both angelic and saturnine; he was all in black, the sort of casual wear that the others favored, though with a t-shirt bearing the worn, faded logo of something called Beatles. The stone of his Signet shone soft green against the dark fabric. One bare foot was visible, and something about that made Nico feel a little too warm for the room.

  “I can come back later,” Nico said lamely.

  Pale lavender eyes opened and met his. “It’s all right,” Deven said. “Come in, sit.”

  He did, suddenly unsure what to do with his hands. “Should you be up?” he asked. “It’s only been three days.”

  Deven had been essentially comatose, placed carefully in bed where he could recover without moving. They’d done the same thing to Nico…but Nico had woken in chains. He’d been so scared, and in pain, with no memory of what was happening or why.

  Had Kai been scared and in pain when the Prophet overtook his body? Had he known what was happening, felt himself dying? Had it felt like drowning, suffocating, or had he just lost consciousness? Was he still in there fighting desperately to exist?

  Deven smiled, bringing Nico back to the room. “Well, I won’t be in fighting form for another few days, but I’m mobile, just stiff.”

  He watched Nico for a while before asking, “I don’t remember what happened…after he broke my neck. How did I get away?”

  Nico, a little sheepish because he knew what the reaction would be, answered, “I sort of…attacked him.”

  “You did what?”

  “I broke cover and threw him—with my mind, I mean—then kept him talking long enough for David to arm the explosives, grabbed you, and Misted out.”

  “You could have been killed!”

  “Yes, well, whatever he had planned for you wouldn’t have been pleasant for me either.”

  “Still…you shouldn’t have done that, Nico.”

  “I didn’t stop to weigh pros and cons,” Nico retorted. “You were lying there on the ground, helpless. That was all I could see.”

  He expected more admonishment, but Deven stared at him for a second and then relented, shaking his head. “You are a wonder,” he said with undisguised affection. Nico felt his ears turning red, but couldn’t think of a reply.

  “Thank you for having the presence of mind to grab Ghostlight,” the Prime added. “I don’t think I’ve ever dropped her like that before.”

  “I don’t blame you. We are all still reeling.”

  “I’m going to keep my promise. One way or another. I meant it.”

  Nico just nodded.
He couldn’t say that he had lost all hope for a happy outcome for his brother or anyone. That he wanted to have faith in Deven, but even that was beyond his strength now. That when everything that had mattered to him for five centuries had been stripped away, and everything that had brought him here had fallen apart, what was left to believe in?

  “Stop,” Deven said quietly.

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop thinking you’re weak and a failure and whatever other poisonous nonsense is going through your head. I can feel it, you know. Nico…” He sat forward, wincing slightly but moving without any hesitation. “I know you’ve had your heart broken a thousand times since you came here. I know I did much of the breaking. But you can’t give up. We need you here, now. I need you.”

  They were silent for a while, and the music changed tracks. “I recognize this,” Nico said, looking away from the intent gaze fixed upon him. “I think the Queen performed it onstage the night…that night.”

  A smile. “She gave me this playlist—songs by other artists that she’s covered onstage.”

  Nico nodded mutely. He didn’t really know what to say or do now, how to act, even how to feel. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come here so soon; perhaps he wasn’t ready to say what he needed to say, or hear what he needed to hear. Perhaps it was too late for either to make any difference.

  Another pause. Then Deven asked, “Do your people dance, Nico?”

  A bit taken aback, Nico looked at him again. “Yes, of course…though probably not the way people do here.”

  “There are a lot of variations…but slow songs like this are pretty easy.” He stood.

  “In silent screams, in wildest dreams

  I never dreamed of this…”

  Nico started to protest that he shouldn’t be active yet, but it didn’t look like Deven had any trouble, and the thought of saying anything about it died on his lips when the Prime held out a hand.

  Caught off guard, Nico took it. Deven pulled him up out of the chair, and once he was standing, moved closer and placed his hands on Nico’s, lifting them to his waist. Nico was too overwhelmed by the unexpected physical proximity to disobey, and Deven rested his hands on Nico’s shoulders with a slight, amused smile at Nico’s stunned expression.

  “Basically at this point you just sway,” the Prime said, drawing him into the beat of the song. “See? Easy.”

  “Lantern burning, flickered in my mind for only you

  But you’re still gone, gone, gone…”

  If the point had been to distract him, Nico had to admit it was a brilliant idea: it was impossible to think about anything, in that moment, but the pressure of hands on his shoulders slowly winding around the back of his neck, and the warmth under his own palms.

  Deven looked up into his eyes, and what Nico saw there was almost miraculous. The broken creature who had endured a perpetual funeral in his heart for the last two years had become something else, and not the person Nico had met, the one slowly disintegrating under the weight of his own immortality; this was something new, something that contained those other Devens but was stronger than any before. There was a gentleness in his eyes just now that Nico suspected few others would be privileged to see, but with it came a new, quiet self-assurance.

  Somehow in the midst of everything that was wrong, something had gone very, very right. And perhaps…just maybe…if Deven could find himself again in the midst of all this pain, Nico could too. It was an outlandish thought given the circles his mind had been trapped in for days…but there it was, a sliver of possibility.

  “Thank you for saving me…again,” Deven said softly.

  Nico smiled. “You are welcome, my Lord.”

  “Your kiss, my cheek, I watched you leave

  Your smile, my ghost, I fell to my knees…”

  He nearly stopped breathing when Deven leaned against him, head on his shoulder, both still swaying, holding onto each other. Everywhere they were touching felt like it was on fire, frozen, and electrified all at once. Nico was shaking, and worse yet flushed with embarrassment for it, but gradually he felt a light wave of energy washing through him, calming the tremors, soothing his fear.

  Deven leaned back to meet his eyes again. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “It’s all right, en’tela…I’ve got you.”

  Nico nodded, not trusting himself to speak, but then, he didn’t really need to. He just held on.

  Still, words had their place. Deven touched his face, his expression somewhere between bemused and reverent, and said, “I love you, Nico.”

  The world halted on its axis. “You…you do?”

  “From the moment you took my hand and lifted me up out of the dark…and every second since. I just wish it hadn’t taken me so long to understand.”

  “Well,” Nico said wryly in spite of everything, “You can be kind of an idiot.”

  His heart did a wild somersault off a cliff as Deven gave him the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen, and then covered Nico’s mouth with his own.

  They had only ever kissed once, that night on the terrace in California, a moment of desperate desire that had ended in heartache that never truly eased…until now.

  Months and months of sadness seemed to fade into nothing. Nico found himself near tears again, but this time for a very different reason, something he hadn’t felt in so long he’d forgotten what it was like: Joy.

  After a moment Deven drew back just enough to speak in his ear, and asked, “Will you stay with me tonight?”

  Swallowing hard, Nico said, “I will.”

  Deven smiled and stepped back, drawing him along by both hands until they were right by the bed; then he hauled Nico down for another kiss, this one dizzyingly deep and born of a need that had existed among their kind since the first Prime reached out to his Queen—the need to fit one’s soul to another’s, to fill the lonely, empty places that mortals only knew in pale imitation…an emptiness that could go on for millennia…unless the Signet spoke for someone, and suddenly forever was not long enough.

  “I don’t think I ever realized how tall you are,” Deven noted as his fingers found their way to the buttons of Nico’s shirt and started undoing them.

  Nico laughed. “I can get you a box to stand on if you like.”

  “I have a better idea—” Deven gave him a hard shove, and somehow got one foot behind Nico’s, tripping him backwards onto the bed. Nico landed on his back with a grunt that turned into another laugh.

  He intended to make a sardonic comment, but quite suddenly found himself unable to speak, as lips took his again, and the heat and weight of a body stretched with almost serpentine grace along his.

  Deven finished unbuttoning and drew back the dark linen, exposing Nico’s Signet. He stared at it for a moment, then leaned down and lightly kissed the stone before turning his attention to Nico’s throat.

  Nico worked his hands up underneath Deven’s shirt, reveling in the phenomenal strength in his back and shoulders. Barely two minutes of touching and he felt drunk; what kind of bliss bubble, to use Stella’s phrase, was he in for after an hour? Or a whole night?

  Fortunately there was only one way to find out.

  Grinning, Deven pulled the shirt off and tossed it aside. Nico took the opportunity to pull him close and roll sideways, reversing their positions, affording him a much better angle from which to run his hands slowly over Deven’s skin, and follow his hands with his mouth, learning the landscape without any hurry. Meanwhile Deven got him shirtless as well with his usual ruthless efficiency.

  He could feel the Prime’s heartbeat—it was racing as fast as his own, though whether out of nerves or arousal, he couldn’t say.

  Oh, wait…he could say. All he had to do was open himself. He’d been trying not to intrude, holding back; every time he came close to accepting the bond’s full power he stepped away, still afraid. He’d connected to it energetically, but emotionally…

  “Now who’s the idiot?” Deven took hold of his chin, a
s he had before, and met his gaze almost sternly. “That’s what it’s for, Nico. Let it in…let me in. I can’t promise I’ll never hurt you again…you know what a disaster I am. But I can promise never to abandon you again, and I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, by my side, where you belong. Just try to trust me, if you can.”

  “This love left a permanent mark

  This love is glowing in the dark

  These hands had to let it go free

  And this love came back to me…”

  Nico rested his forehead against Deven’s for a moment, relaxing his hold over his emotions, truly letting the connection between them speak. He’d felt things from it since it had been unblocked, but he’d done so with as much distance as possible. Deven was right…he hadn’t trusted it. He didn’t know if he could yet. But he knew without doubt that it was worth climbing over his fear…worth working for…worth living for.

  When he let go and opened himself to it, there was only one thing reverberating through it that mattered. There was so much love between them, even after so much sorrow, and its light was enough to banish even the darkest of those days. He breathed it in like the first gasp of oxygen after near-drowning. Indeed it felt like breaking through the surface of dark water, finally feeling the free air again.

  “I love you,” Nico said softly.

  A smile, touched with the kind of happiness they’d both denied themselves but could have found, all this time, in each other. “Good,” he replied. “Because I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

  “And you with me,” Nico pointed out, kissing him again before adding, “You’re never driving me away again.”

  Deven’s eyes were sparkling as he slid his hands down Nico’s back. “I should hope not,” he said, lifting up to speak in his ear as if the words were both a secret and a promise. “You are my Consort, after all.”

  *****

  Miranda opened her eyes with a contended sigh. Waking up sore and lazy with her limbs all-akimbo seemed to have become a habit…a very satisfying habit.

  She shifted slightly backwards to remind herself how she’d fallen asleep. There was no mistaking David half-draped over her; he didn’t snore, but his breathing pattern was one she knew as well as her own, as was the scent of his skin and the familiar weight of his arm around her.