The Dark Matters Quartet

by Claire Robyns

  “Here’s to you

  Here’s to me

  Here’s to the victor

  And here’s to the one that fell

  Here’s to us

  Should e’er we meet in hell”

  He put the bottle to his mouth and took a long swig. Sensing Archibald at his left, he backed away from the wall and swung the bottle out. “Warm your cockles before you take off. It’s damn cold out there.”

  “I’m no’ going anywhere until it’s done,” Archibald said. He chugged back a decent swallow, then passed the bottle to Liam.

  Kelan didn’t argue. He didn’t need them here and he didn’t need to be alone.

  Daylight spilled in from the entrance, lighting up a good portion of the runes snaking inside the wall. When he hit the opposite wall at his back, his slid down to his backside and reached beneath his coat for the dagger strapped to his hip.

  He thought of nothing.

  No goodbyes. No last words. His men understood.

  His eyes never left the veil as he pulled his sleeves up. He bit down, his jaw clenched hard, and drew the blade across one wrist with a firm, measured pressure. Not too deep to sever the tendon. He still had to use that hand for the other wrist.

  His veins burnt like fire, all the way from his wrists and up into his heart.

  There were less painful, quicker ways to die, but this was the only one Kelan would take. He wanted to bleed out slow.

  He wanted to watch the veil die with him.

  When he was done with both wrists, his arms limp at his sides, his hands resting palm up on the ground in pools of blood, only then did he trust himself to strip away the mask and set himself free. It was too late to turn back.

  His thoughts came alive and each and every one belonged to Lily.

  TWENTY EIGHT

  Lily ran.

  The uneven ground snagged her slippers and her coat flapped high, driving the biting cold straight through her flimsy indoor gown, but she didn’t feel the cold, she didn’t feel the rock tearing into the flesh of her heels.

  Her heart pumped blood and fear, seizing every second breath. She didn’t need air. She only needed to reach Kelan.

  Neco overtook her with his leaping strides, surging on ahead. Greyston was somewhere behind, struggling with his limp and weakened lungs. Ana wasn’t with them. Lily hadn’t been able to wait for Armand to finish closing her chest and now…now those precious minutes she’d saved meant nothing.

  The damnable ship had blown one of its engines not long after they’d taken to the skies. It had hung onto the Aether by a thread, chugging and spurting in pathetic bursts while the clock ticked and ticked and ate into their hour of leeway.

  She scrambled over a jagged boulder and then skidded, bottom first, down the eroded face on the other side to drop into the valley. Her ankle twisted and she stumbled, more precious seconds lost, and then she was running again. If her ankle hurt, she wouldn’t know. Her entire existence lay at the far end of the valley.

  She rounded the last bend to the cave and her heart crashed. The only sign of movement came from tendrils of smoke that caught the wind and spiralled up into the heavens.

  Her limbs trembled, but she pushed through the incapacitating dread and sprinted until she was at the mouth of the cave, and the flames of a spitting fire grabbed her vision. She blinked away and found Kelan slumped just inside the entrance. His eyes were open, barely, staring ahead, his lids drooping heavily. His hands, the blood…

  Lily snapped out of the horror and fell to her knees before him. “Kelan?”

  His head turned weakly, his eyes lifting.

  She saw recognition there, but no light.

  “Don’t…” he murmured, the word barely audible.

  “This is not a discussion.” She looked up and started barking orders. “Neco, I need strips of cloth. Quick. You…” She pointed at Archibald with her eyes. “How long?”

  He shook his head. “Too long, m’lady, and ye shouldna—”

  “Don’t you dare tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.” She snatched the strip that Neco had torn from his shirt and trapped Liam in a cold look. “I need your help. Hold his arm up.”

  Liam hesitated, and Neco was still busy tearing strips.

  “I will seal the tear,” she said, hating to waste the time. “I swear, I have another way. Kelan doesn’t have to die.” Tears flowed from her eyes, streaming down her cheeks. “Help me, please.”

  The younger man jumped into action. He lifted Kelan’s arm and supported the limp wrist while Lily bound the cloth as tightly as she dared. She was no nurse, but she knew she had to wrap firmly enough to press his arteries closed and stop the blood.

  While she worked, Neco and Archibald wrapped the other wrist.

  “Keep his arms raised,” she said when they were done.

  “Will that help?” asked Liam.

  “I don’t know,” she said, rubbing at her eyes to clear her sight. Yes, she thought. At least at that angle, the blood had to flow back into his veins instead of leaking out at his wrists.

  Neco had one arm, Liam the other.

  Lily straddled Kelan, the pooled blood soaking her skirts where her knees prodded the ground. So much blood…

  She cupped his chin and tipped her head, brushing her lips lightly over his. A small, quick kiss that wouldn’t steal his shallow breaths. Then she pressed her lips to the edge of his mouth and spoke.

  “Trust me, my love. Fight to come back to me and I promise, if I fail, if I can’t seal the tear, then I’ll let you go and I’ll make my peace with it.”

  She pulled back to look into his eyes, to see if he’d heard, but his eyes were closed.

  The sheer force of will that had brought her this far shattered into a million pieces. She squeezed in between Neco and folded herself into Kelan, her arm flung around his waist, her cheek pressed to his chest.

  A faint heartbeat tapped dully at her ear. It was enough, for now, for her to scratch about for the million pieces and slowly gather herself back into a whole.

  Her gaze fluttered out and she saw Greyston had arrived. He had one hand to the cave wall, the other clutching his side, his head bent as he sucked in air.

  We’re all broken.

  “The wall,” Neco said.

  Lily lifted her head, looking at him, then following his gaze.

  The living runes had faded to shadowy imprints, their rhythm lethargic, as if they, too, were giving up the will to live.

  She knew what that meant, but she wasn’t giving up. She lay her cheek down again on Kelan’s chest, her eyes on the veil, watching, waiting, believing Kelan would trust in her, fight for them, return to her.

  No one spoke.

  At one point, Greyston stopped sucking air and started breathing. He paced up and down along the veil, his scowling gaze entranced by the ethereal beast trapped inside the wall.

  Outside, the daylight waned. Inside, the flames flickered brighter. Kelan’s heartbeat tapped her ear like a faint, steady pulse that lulled her into the night. She felt herself drifting into sleep, and the next thing she knew, her eyes were screwing open into the sharp glare of sunlight and her heart raced wildly…something was wrong! Her gaze landed on the wall opposite, and suddenly everything was right!

  The runes were a dark, inky black and slithered with violent energy, as if angry to be yanked from the brink of slumber.

  She stirred herself, realising she’d completely draped Kelan while she slept.

  “Morning, sweetling,” came his gruff voice above her.

  Lily craned her neck to meet his gaze, her smile curling up from her toes. “How are you feeling?” she asked softy.

  “My question comes first.” His lids were still heavy, but the deep blue of his eyes hooked her with his usual dark, primal intensity. A grin hitched his mouth. “Why am I strung up like a low-life outlaw?”

  Her gaze shot higher and she gasped, sliding her weight from him to the floor at his side. “It’s my fault, I’m afraid.
I told them to keep your arms raised high and forgot to tell them they could stop. Neco!”

  They’d used extra strips of cloth, bound around his wrists and tied to craggy bits of rock in the wall behind. Lily took care of the one arm, while Neco hurried forward to the other side.

  “Where is everyone?” she asked, glancing over the empty cave and a fire that seemed to glow with more embers than flames.

  “Archibald didn’t want to be here when his lordship awoke,” Neco informed her. “I’m supposed to call him back in after his lordship has taken his full wrath out on you.”

  “You may as well fetch the weasel in,” Kelan said.

  Lily smiled down on the top of his head.

  “Liam is tending to the horses.” Neco lowered Kelan’s arm carefully across his chest and hunched down at his level. “He had an extra blanket for Burr, and moved him to the sheltered spot with their own horses last night.”

  “Thank you,” Kelan grunted.

  Lily finished loosening the ties and gently brought Kelan’s arm down. “Greyston?”

  “Right here,” he called as he straightened from a shadowed corner and stepped closer into the firelight, cradling a bundle of stubby logs. “Tending to our warmth.”

  Her gaze flashed to the veil, back to Greyston, her nerves at once jittery. She needed the veil gone from their lives, this very instant, and if she failed…?

  She shook the doubt from her mind and crossed to where Greyston fed the flames. “We’re doing it,” she said. “Now.”

  “Doing what?” Kelan called.

  Greyston gave her a nod before his gaze went to Kelan. “Lily has a theory on how we can seal the tear.” He shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

  “It’s more than a theory!” She saw a skin of water peeping from Archibald and Liam’s packs and she quickly lifted it before turning back to Kelan. “Just a little less than hard fact. Here…” She dropped beside him and raised the skin to his mouth.

  “I can do it.” Both his hands came up, covering hers with strength and warmth for a long moment before he took control of the skin. “Now, what is this revelation that brought me back from the edge of death?”

  “You heard me last night?” she said. “You trusted me and came back.”

  “Not quite.” He looked into her eyes with such open, honest, soul-bared intensity, Lily felt her heart filling up with his love. “I fought to come back to you, because I knew I’d done it all wrong. I should have said goodbye.”

  “I love you.” She leant in, her fingers feathering over his bristled jaw. “I always will.”

  A deep throat cleared, interrupting from behind.

  Archibald threw his hands up with a hesitant grin. “Ye canna blame me,” he said to Kelan. “I ne’er could say no ta a beautiful woman.”

  Lily rolled her eyes and pushed to her feet, turning to Greyston. “Ready?” she mouthed.

  “Actually, no…” He slapped a hand over his shoulder. “I forgot about the protection rune tattooed to my back. I don’t know if it matters, but we probably don’t want my blood protected.”

  Lily grimaced at the thought of what that would involve. Would it truly matter? She didn’t know either, but she did know they needed everything that could go right to go right.

  “Does anyone have a blade for me?” Greyston’s gaze flicked past her. “Mine went down with the Red Hawk.”

  “Here.” Kelan’s fingers searched along the base of the wall beside him and found a bloodied dagger.

  “I hae no idea what ye two are about,” Archibald said, taking the blade from Kelan and walking up to them. “But if ye’re wanting a rune removed, ye canna do it yerself.”

  “Lily,” Kelan called. “Come here.”

  She went to him. “How bad will it be?”

  “It will be over quickly,” he said, which wasn’t much reassurance at all.

  Archibald dipped the point of the blade into the red-hot coals, his eyes turned on Greyston. “Ye’ll hae to keep verra still.”

  Neco was there, taking the coat that Greyston had already removed. “I’ll hold him still.”

  Greyston unbuttoned half his shirt as he went down on one knee. Neco dropped in front of him, pushing the shirt off Greyston’s shoulders before bracing his hands firmly over them.

  When Archibald brought the blade to Greyston’s back, Lily’s eyes blurred with foolish tears. Goodness, after all they’d been through, one would think she had a little more grit than this.

  The rune pattern only needed to be disrupted, a slice branded over one of the lines, and it was over quickly. A sizzle, the whiff of melted skin, a low growl wrung from Greyston’s gut.

  “Leave it bared,” Kelan said. “Otherwise the cloth will stick and infect.”

  Greyston was on his feet, his shirt hanging from his wide shoulders, his grin strained but there. “Now I’m ready.”

  A shaky laugh trembled Lily’s mouth. Please, God, let this work.

  She snagged the water skin from Kelan’s hand and used it to douse the heat from the glowing blade.

  Greyston picked up the dagger before she could. “I’ll do it.”

  A tight nod. A tight smile. She rubbed the sleeve of her coat up and held her arm out.

  Kelan shot upright against the wall. “What in damnation are you—”

  “Not what you’re thinking.” Greyston threw him a hard glare. “Have some faith, man, if not in me, then in your wife.”

  Lily couldn’t get a word out to soothe her husband. Her heart was wedged in her throat, her stomach twisted into a mass of knots. All her hopes and prayers rested in this moment, and she was struggling to keep her own faith.

  Greyston made his own cut first, slicing open a strong vein just below his elbow. Blood pulsed in a thin stream as he pressed the blade to Lily’s arm and did the same.

  She felt a burning prick, nothing more. Her heart hammered the back of her throat. Sheer determination to will the wanted result into being clashed with pure white terror.

  Greyston’s hand reached for hers, their fingers twining and clasping as forearm pressed to forearm, skin to skin, blood pulsing into blood.

  Silence descended in the cave, the kind of silence that echoed. As one, Lily and Greyston turned their eyes on the veil.

  The writhing runes blurred. At first, Lily thought she might be crying again, leaking useless tears. But then she saw they blurred with speed, patterns swirling faster than the eye could track, colliding into long welts inside the stone and then… She breathed. She released the air trapped in her lungs and breathed as the thick, ugly, scarred welts faded into craggy, limestone wall.

  “We did it,” Greyston blew out his own ragged breath. “It damn well worked.”

  “Christ…”

  Lily’s gaze spun to Kelan. He watched the blank, dead wall, his jaw slack, the blue in his eyes shocked to black. He truly hadn’t believed. She decided not to hold his lack of trust against him. For a moment there, she’d had a similar problem.

  The smallest, slightest movement dragged her attention to the left.

  Archibald was reaching for the sword sheathed at his hip, his gaze trained on Lily, cold and hard.

  “If you touch my wife,” Kelan said, his voice lethally quiet, “I will shred you from limb to limb.”

  The man’s hand froze. “Ye ken what this means.”

  “I know exactly what this means,” Kelan said. “Gorgon was here, and is now gone. Stand down or leave.”

  His arm fell stiffly to his side.

  The full realisation of what they’d achieved buckled Lily’s knees. Greyston’s muscles tensed, their joined hands keeping her upright, and then Kelan was there.

  He pulled her into his arms, folding her into his strength. “You have some explaining to do, wife,” he said, so softly, so gently, she found her heart wedging into her throat again for an entirely different reason.

  TWENTY NINE

  The hearth in the library crackled with the heat of dancing flames. Cragloden Castle
didn’t need the extra warmth, but the central steam piping fitted throughout couldn’t provide the proper ambience.

  Archibald stood beside the hearth, boots planted a couple of feet apart, arms crossed over his broad chest, hair as bright and red as the fire adding to his feral look. He hadn’t tried to slay her or Greyston recently, but the man clearly still clung to his doubts.

  Lily didn’t bother offering him a smile as she sank to her knees before the tray of tea that Mrs. Locke had deposited on the low table. No quarter would be coming from that direction until she’d told her story.

  Leaning against the wall across from her, Neco had his arms draped around Ana. Sensing the viable threat, their eyes were trained on Archibald and never waivered.

  Greyston and Georgina occupied an armchair, thoroughly wrapped in each other. Not a single person in the room cared a trot about propriety.

  Lily caught the fear in Liam’s gaze as he watched her drop a handful of sugar cubes into a cup of tea.

  “It’s not for you,” she assured him with a soft smile. “Armand?” She glanced to where he fiddled at the drinks cabinet. “Please make sure Liam gets a double shot. He’s just suffered a deplorable fright.”

  When she twisted around on her knees to hold the cup up to Kelan, her smile firmed rather sternly. “Dr. Barlow said you needed to recoup your energy.”

  “Barley whiskey has as much sugar as that damn tea,” he growled.

  She arched a brow at him.

  He took the cup in one hand and shoved the other through the damp strands of his hair. She’d insisted he take a long, warm bath as soon as the doctor had stitched his wrists. He’d reared at the bit at that, not quite her avenging angel swathed in wrath and fury, but not quite tame either. Until she’d suggested the bath tub was surely large enough for two and she had promised the doctor, after all, to keep a close watch on him until he recovered from the blood loss. Amazing how pliable her husband became with the right motivation.

  She’d undressed him, slowly, and he’d undressed her, quickly, and it had been another hour before they made it into the bathroom.