* * * * *
My love, she sleeps! Oh, may her sleep,
As it is lasting, so be deep!
Soft may the worms about her creep!
Far in the forest, dim and old,
—Edgar Allen Poe, The Sleeper
* * * * *
“What game are you playing at, brother?”
Daemon turned to find Tryton awaiting him in his private chamber, an ancient throne room nestled far beneath an as yet undiscovered pyramid in modern day Cairo. “I have no patience for games anymore, Tryton. I play at nothing.” He moved deeper into the chamber, touched a panel in the stone and revealed a hidden compartment from which he withdrew a small earthen cask and two matching cups. He broke a beeswax seal atop the cask, poured a golden fluid from it into the cups and offered one of them to Tryton.
Tryton’s eyes widened after he tasted it. “This is honeyed mead. Fashioned in the old way.”
“My solitude affords me time to take care in the things I choose to craft.” Daemon offered him a salute with his cup and took a long draught.
A shadow rode Tryton’s brow. “Did you choose to craft Raine? Is that how we arrive at this pass?”
Daemon swallowed, his lips dewy from the mead. “Do you mean to ask if I machinated events so that Raine was in the right place at the right time for the golems to find and abduct her at the very start?” Daemon’s head cocked to the side. “Do you think so ill of me, brother?”
“I no longer know what to think, Daemon,” Tryton admitted. “You pursue her, that much is obvious. I would like to know why.”
“I harbor no ill will toward her or the other Shikars, that is all you need to know.”
“You never harbor ill, yet ill is all you do.”
Daemon swirled the mead in his cup for a moment, musing. “She is perhaps the most powerful being I have encountered aside from you or Grimm, that in itself should be enough and yet…” Daemon’s features betrayed a fraction of his puzzlement, as if he didn’t understand his own emotions. “She is also fragile, almost broken. It lends her a more intriguing air, her fragility, I admit. You do know why she forgets, do you not?” he asked abruptly.
Tryton frowned; it was sometimes difficult to follow his brother’s mercurial shifts in conversation. “I am sure it is a defense mechanism to protect herself from the trauma she has suffered—”
“No.” Daemon was animated now, eager to share some secret knowledge with his brother. “She forgets because of what she is—and what she is not. Have you or the others not wondered about that? Of course you have. Just as you have wondered about Lazarus—they are neither of them like my other golems. Yet they are not fully Shikar. Strange, is it not, that out of all my efforts only the two of them are what we might call successes?”
“It matters little.” Tryton jerked his head away from the distasteful matter. “They are powerful and strong, they fight for our cause; the protection of our world and all of its peoples.”
Daemon made a face and took another sip of his drink. “They do not require sleep, or food in the conventional sense—they can, if they wish, subsist on the fields of energy that radiate around everyone and everything—and they heal faster than we do. They are hybrid creatures, resilient and cunning, with many Shikar strengths and none of our weaknesses.”
Tryton had guessed as much, of course, but he did not care for labels the way Daemon did. It did not matter to him what Raine was. It only mattered that she was whole—and she was anything but. “You hinted that you may know why her memory fails her at times. Laz does not suffer such a malady, why then does Raine?”
“It is a miracle Raine is not more damaged than she is.” A pensive glint shone in Daemon’s ancient eyes. “Lazarus was reborn with my magic; Raine was kept alive with what magic and inherited knowledge my golems possessed, which wasn’t much at all. She should not have survived her time with them.”
“But she did and her memory is inconstant.”
“It is the sea water she ingested from the Wastes that is causing her distress—the golems fed it to her ceaselessly, guessing correctly that it would prolong her life in the same fashion it prolonged the Leviathan’s. They fed it to her while she was kept otherwise drained in order to fuel their ranks. I tampered with those waters eons ago, experimenting, as I am wont to do.” Daemon shrugged. “Raine was exposed to some interesting things by drinking that water. One of the side effects is the occasional loss of her memory; she can even initiate the loss herself, willfully, if her need is great enough.”
“This is madness.” Tryton felt an overwhelming chill. “And what sort of ‘interesting things’ was she exposed to, dare I inquire?”
Daemon pursed his lips, clearly contemplating how much to share with Tryton. “She is no longer human, but unfortunately there was not enough of my seed in the water to transform her into a full Shikar.”
Tryton blanched. “Gods, Daemon. Your seed was the catalyst for her transformation? You knew and you told no one—she could have died!”
“Nothing has changed, brother. You knew Raine was not human. When she mated with Grimm, all of you had to know that something happened to her in that cave beyond the obvious—”
“Yes, but this is monstrous! An entire ocean contaminated with elements that are known to poison or mutate life on a cellular level—you left it where any creature could come upon it and has! Daemon, how could you be so reckless and irresponsible—”
“It was necessary at the time to discover what sort of changes can be initiated by our life essences—our seed being only one catalyst.” Daemon blinked slowly, owlishly, and Tryton came close to throttling him for his detached calm. “There is a reason those waters are fashioned to cause forgetfulness, just as there is a reason that creature—the one Raine calls the Leviathan—is banished there.”
“Yet now the Leviathan wants out, Raine is being dogged by it and you have poisoned her with your waters of Lethe.”
“She is not poisoned beyond my ability to cure, Tryton. I can cease the bouts of her forgetfulness, if she but asks. Perhaps even fully transition her into one of our kind since it was I who indirectly sparked her change, if that is also something she desires. But that is our business—hers and mine.”
Silence fell like a weight into the room.
“Why would you do that?” Tryton rasped.
Daemon subsided, withdrawing into some hidden corner of himself, and Tryton could only wonder what went on behind his twin’s bright eyes.
He had never professed to understand his brother. Daemon had always been a complicated being. He had been one of the first to interact with the humans, one of the few to bother teaching them Shikar ways, and the few of their kind to notice they might be more than primitive apes. While the human species had not been the first sentient intelligence to walk the Earth, they had been the first significant population that was malleable and Daemon had seen that potential straight away.
Tryton feared that Daemon’s curiosity had been piqued once again and he was concerned what it might mean for the world as a whole.
Daemon took a breath. “I find her desirable, brother.”
This admission stunned Tryton.
It seemed to surprise Daemon too.
“Yes, I find her lovely,” Daemon continued. “It is admirable, really, for her to have survived so much and be stronger for it. Her valor and her spirit shine from out of her very skin, and it is the most magnificent thing I have beheld in a long age.” He sighed so softly it was almost too quiet to hear. “How could I not want such a creature for my own?”
Tryton spoke without thinking. “Because there is no love in you.”
Daemon’s mouth tightened, his eyes flashing. “Come now, let’s not mince words. Please, tell me how you really feel, brother,” he snarled.
“I apologize if it pains you to hear, but we both know it is true.” This was far more dangerous than Tryton had guessed. He didn’t know how to proceed. “I will admit that you show admirable devotion to you
r adopted son, but Lazarus is not at your side every waking moment as he once was. Pledging his time to his sister and our people, taking time away from you to learn of his human roots, this all seems to have put a strain on your relationship. You have grown distant and I see your devotion growing cold as it has done in the past to those you professed to care about.”
“My relationship with my offspring is as strong as it has always been. You read signs where there are none. I was distant when I was withdrawn from this world, now that I wish to live life in full again, you fear what I may do. You wish to rein me in.”
“And what of family? If you cannot love your own flesh and blood, how can you love and care for a woman? Let alone one as spirited and courageous as Raine? She is one of us—she has fought and bled for our people. Given everything, lost everything because of us, yet she doesn’t blame the Shikar people—she embraces us without reservation. You would only break her, brother. I cannot allow it. Your heart bled out long ago, Daemon. What hidden purpose does it serve you to pursue her?” Tryton moved to stand toe to toe with his twin. “Whatever your plans are, give them up now, for pity’s sake.”
“I will have her, Tryton. Her power will be mine to wield.” In a sudden fit of apoplectic rage, Daemon threw his cup across the chamber, where it shattered. “You do not understand the weight of my convictions, you never have!”
Tryton felt his gut twist with dread. “I knew there was more to it than passing lust. What could you possibly need her power for—”
“Oh I lust for her body,” Daemon scoffed, flinging himself away, his body thrumming with energy. “Do not doubt that. I have been hard and aching for her since I first saw her sleeping, half naked on a bower of blood and stone. I have shown enormous restraint, doubt it not. I had to spend every moment knowing her body was in the arms of that assassin of yours.” He roared a wordless cry. “I have had the scent of her mixed with his filling my head and it has taken everything I have not to go to them, tear him limb from limb and abscond with her in the night! Don’t talk to me about love of family, Tryton, it is all that has kept me from going for Grimm’s throat!”
“Daemon, if you know she is mated to Grimm—you must know her heart has belonged to him since long before you two even met.” Tryton urged him to be rational. “She is his woman.”
“Not anymore.” Daemon paced furiously. “She needs protection, brother. Her heart can be won away from him now he is dead. Have you not said the same to me of Litha for thousands of years? Perhaps we were meant to be together,” he snarled in a mocking voice. “Once our business together is done, once I have made her strong and whole, we can be together always.”
Tryton reeled. “Do you hear yourself? You are an echo of your past playing out all over again.” He reached for Daemon as he passed by. “Do not go down this road, Daemon. Stop this insanity now before it is too late.”
“I know what I am doing this time. If you would but trust me this once.” Daemon’s eyes beseeched him. “Please, brother. I need her. Now that Grimm is gone, she needs me—we’ll complete each other.”
Tryton shook his head. “I can’t. This cannot happen again. Daemon, heed me. If you do this, I will take measures that I was unwilling to take in our youth. I have a family to consider now, a mate and children whom I love more than life. I will do anything to protect them. Even if it means killing you.” He felt acid tears stinging the corners of his eyes and wondered if they would leave scars to match those that were even now etching paths down the middle of his heart. “I implore you. Leave Raine alone or I will be forced to act against you. Do you understand?”
Daemon’s face was a mask of rage. “I understand. It is you who does not. But you will.” Daemon turned and took a seat upon a divan, sitting tall. “You will.” After saying this, Daemon would speak no more. His features smoothed out and his entire body went as still as one of his stones, his eyes open but vacant. He was there and not there, the chamber may as well have been empty. Daemon was beyond Tryton’s reach in this suspended state. Beyond anyone’s reach.
This was how Tryton would always remember him. A mirror image of himself that stood motionless and hollow. An empty, wrecked figure haunted by ghosts uncounted. This was who Daemon was. A creature blighted by fate, brought low by the yearnings of his own fierce heart, possessed of a will so great it had almost broken the world with its ferocity, not once but many times over.
Tryton retreated, leaving Daemon to meet his end on his own, whatever it may be.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“As long as you’re here, there is still hope, Grimm. You’re not dead.”
“I am as good as and we both know it.”
“No you’re not.” Raine swallowed bitter tears.
“Ah, Raine.” He gathered her to him, draping her in the dark folds of his cloak. “Nightingale, it is over. You should let it be over.”
“But I feel you.” She sobbed into his chest. “You’re solid and you’re strong.” Her voice broke, like strings wound too tight. “You’re more than just a Shade, I can feel you and you can feel me.” Her fingers clutched at him as if to make her words true. “You’re not lost to me so long as I can feel you like this.”
“It is you who keeps me here.”
Raine sniffled and tightened her hold on him, fisting her fingers in his hair.
“It is a dangerous game to play.”
“You don’t want to leave me, do you?” She asked the question through gritted teeth, the words coming out nearer an accusation.
“I do not want you to come to the Gray Land again. I warned you away from there. When you are there, you exude life, imbuing everything you touch—”
“I made you strong. I kept you from crossing over and I’ll continue to keep you for as long as I can. How can it be wrong for me to go there if my power keeps you strong enough to stay alive?”
“Raine. Stop. There is much you are not remembering yet, but you will. You have to let me go, now, before it’s too late to undo what has already been done.”
“No!” She reached up and pulled his head down for a kiss, putting all of her love, all of her passion and determination to keep him into the frantic press of her lips.
Grimm returned her kiss, helpless to resist, wrapping his arms around her. She softened against him, put her arms around his neck so that their hearts pressed close. When she did not feel the beating of his, she gave a wounded cry. “I won’t accept it.” Raine gasped, then kissed him again. “This isn’t how our story ends. There is nothing I could possibly remember that will make me decide that letting you die is the right decision—nothing,” she said in between more urgent kisses.
His palms spanned her back, his fingertips massaging pressure points she’d never known existed, nerves that made her see explosions of color behind her eyes and hear the clang of bells. He trailed his lips to her ear. “Sometimes love blinds us, Nightingale. But we cannot choose to live in the dark forever.” His words flew like arrows into her heart, wounding her, drawing blood. “Would you have our love twist into something so macabre?”
Raine buried her face in his throat. “How would you even know I love you? I never said so.”
He brushed his fingers through her hair. “You never had to. Your love filled the air with music, Raine. What you felt, I felt in your music. You hid nothing in your music.”
“Don’t, Grimm, please.”
His voice softened around the dulcet symphony of his feelings for her. “Every time you sang for me, I knew you loved me.”
“Stop.” She couldn’t bear another moment of this anguish.
“More than that, your body sang for me whenever I touched you.”
“Stop it.” She shoved at him but he wouldn’t let her go.
“The color in your eyes hummed an aria when they met mine. Your heartbeat was a lullaby that only I could hear. You can’t hide behind the lie that you never said you love me, Raine—you told me every moment we were together. You tell me now in the melody of your we
eping. You are my Nightingale, every murmur, every sound is an ode to your love for me.”
“Shut up!” she snarled in a fit of desperation, needing him to capitulate, to cooperate. “If you think I love you so much then you should understand that I’d never let you go!” Her fists struck his chest repeatedly in a fit of anxious desperation. “I can’t do it, Grimm.” She jerked against him but the more fiercely she fought, the tighter he held her. “I won’t!”
“You have to.” He held her so tight now she thought she might break. “I told you there is more at stake here than you and me.”
“I don’t care,” she cried stubbornly. “There’s a way to bring you back, I know there is. I just need a little more time to prepare. Can you give me that?”
“I have already allowed too much time to pass.” He sucked in a ragged, weary breath. “It’s true, I do not want to leave you any more than you want me to go. But this is our fate. It must be this way. Let me go, let it be over.”
Raine bit her lip until it bled, holding back all the arguments she knew would be a waste of her breath and the few precious moments remaining to them before he had to return to the Gray Land. Their future danced on the edge of a knife.
The consequences of her actions now would ripple throughout the future for generations to come—but she didn’t know that.
How could she know? Raine barely knew her own past, and her present was as unstable as the ground beneath her feet. The distant future was of no pressing concern. The future only mattered so far as she could see Grimm in it, at her side, alive and whole. Nothing else would do. So Raine kept her plans to herself, shared nothing of her intentions with him and simply chose to kiss him again, because when they kissed all her worries drifted and muffled into background noise.
Grimm ended the kiss far too soon. But he surprised her, took her hand in his and said in a husky voice, “Follow me.”
TravelersKiss Page 25