by Nora Roberts
“Don’t. Don’t leave.”
“Remember me,” she repeated. “Until we see each other again.”
Alone, he sat, lowering his head into his hands. And remembered far too much.
Chapter 13
For the most part, Cian avoided the tower room where Hoyt and Glenna worked their magicks. Such things often involved considerable light, flashes, fire and other elements unfavorable to vampires.
But in a way he hadn’t—or hadn’t admitted to in centuries—he needed his brother.
He noted before he knocked that one or both of his magically inclined relations had taken the precaution of drawing protection symbols on the tower door to keep the curious out. He’d have preferred to stay out himself, but he knocked.
When Glenna answered, there was a dew of sweat on her skin. Her hair was bundled up, and she’d stripped down to a tank and cotton pants. Cian lifted a brow.
“Am I interrupting?”
“Nothing physical, unfortunately. It’s just viciously hot in here. We’re working on a lot of heat and fire magicks. Sorry.”
“I’m not bothered much by temperature extremes.”
“Oh. Right.” She closed the door behind him. “We’ve got the windows blocked off—keeping everything contained—so you won’t have to worry about the light.”
“It’s nearly sundown.”
He looked over to where Hoyt stood over an enormous copper trough. Hoyt had his hands spread above it, and there was a sensation, even across the room, of more heat, of power and energy.
“He’s fire-charging weapons,” Glenna explained. “And I’ve been working on, well, it’s a kind of bomb, really. Something we may be able to drop from the air.”
“The NSO would love to have you on staff.”
“I could be their version of Q.” She swiped at her damp brow with the back of her hand. “You want a tour?”
“Actually…I wanted to…I’ll just speak with Hoyt when he’s not so involved.”
“Wait.” It was the first time Glenna could remember seeing Cian flustered. No, not flustered, she thought. Upset. “He needs a break. So do I. If you can stand the heat, just hang out a few more minutes. He’s nearly done. I’m going to go get some air.”
Cian caught her hand before she turned to go. “Thank you. For not asking.”
“No problem. And if it is a problem, I’ll be around.”
When she went out, Cian leaned against the door. Hoyt remained just as he’d been, hands spread over the silver smoke that rose from the trough. His eyes were darkened as they were when he held his power strong and steady.
It had always been so, Cian thought, since they were children.
Like Glenna, Hoyt had stripped down for work, and wore a white T-shirt and faded jeans. It was odd, even after the past months, to see his brother in twenty-first-century clothing.
Hoyt had never been one for fashion, Cian recalled. But for dignity and purpose. However much they looked alike, they’d approached life from different poles. Hoyt for solitude and study, and he himself for society and business—and the pleasure both brought him.
Still, they’d been close, had understood each other on a level few others could. Had loved each other, Cian thought now, in a way that was as strong and as steady as Hoyt’s power.
Then the world, and everything in it, had changed.
So what was he doing here? Looking for answers, for comfort, when he knew there could be neither? None of it could be taken back, not a single act, a single thought, a single moment. It was a foolish waste of time and energy on all counts.
The man who stood like a statue in the smoke wasn’t the man he’d known, any more than he was the same man he’d been. Or a man at all for that matter.
Too much time spent with these people, these feelings, these needs made him forget what could never be altered. He pushed away from the door.
“Wait. A moment more.”
Hoyt’s voice stopped him—and it irritated him to understand Hoyt had known he wasn’t simply shifting position but leaving.
Hoyt lowered his hands, and the smoke whisked away.
“Sure we’ll go into this well-armed.” Hoyt reached into the trough and lifted a sword by the hilt. Spinning, he pointed it toward the hearth. And shot a beam of fire.
“Will you be using one of these?” Hoyt turned the sword in his hand, eying its edge. “You’ve skill enough not to burn yourself.”
“I’ll use whatever comes best to hand—and do my best to stay away from those you arm who are considerably less skilled.”
“It’s not worry over poor swordsmanship that brings you here.”
“No.”
Since he was here, he’d do what he’d come to do. But he wandered the room first while Hoyt removed the other weapons from the trough. The room smelled of herbs and smoke, of sweat and effort.
“I’ve chased your woman away.”
“I’ll find her again.”
“Since she’s not here, I’ll ask you. Are you afraid you’ll lose her in this?”
Hoyt laid the last sword on the worktable. “It’s my last thought before sleep, my first on waking. The rest of the time I try not to think of it—or let out the part of myself that wants to lock her away safe until this is over.”
“She isn’t a woman you could lock away, even with your skill.”
“No, but knowing that doesn’t stop the fear. Are you afraid for Moira?”
“What?”
“Do you think I don’t know you’re with her? That your heart is with her?”
“A temporary madness. It’ll pass.” At his brother’s quiet, steady look, Cian shook his head. “I’ve no choice in it, and neither does she. What I am doesn’t run to white picket fences and golden retrievers.” He waved it away when Hoyt’s look turned puzzled. “To home and hearth, brother. I can’t give her a life—if I wanted to—and what passes for mine will go on long after hers is ended. And that’s not what I’ve come to tell you.”
“Tell me this first. Do you love her?”
It came into him, the truth of it, swirling through his heart and into his eyes. “She is…She is like a light for me when I’ve lived eternally in the dark. But the dark is mine, Hoyt. I know how to survive there, to be content and productive and entertained there.”
“You don’t say happy.”
Frustration snapped into his voice. “I was happy enough before you came. Before you changed everything again, as surely as Lilith had done to me. What would you have me do? Wish for what you have, and will have with Glenna if you live? What good will it do me? Will it start my heart again? Can your magic do that?”
“No. I’ve found nothing that can take you back. But—”
“Let it be. I am what I am, and I’ve done more than well enough. I’m not whining about it. She’s an experience. Love is an experience, and I’ve always sought them out.” He dragged his hands through his hair. “Christ. Is there anything to drink in this place?”
“There’s whiskey.” Hoyt lifted his chin toward a cabinet. “I’ll have one as well.”
Cian poured whiskey generously into cups, then crossed to where Hoyt drew two three-legged stools together. So Cian sat, and they drank for a few moments in silence.
“I’ve written out a document, a kind of will, should my luck run out on Samhain.”
Hoyt lifted his eyes from his whiskey and met Cian’s. “I see.”
“I’ve accumulated considerable property and holdings, assets, personal items. I expect you’ll see to them, as I’ve instructed.”
“I will, of course.”
“It’ll be no small task as they’re spread out over the world. I don’t keep a great many eggs in one basket. There are passports and other identification papers in the New York apartment, and in safety deposit boxes here and there. If any are useful to you, you’re welcome to them.”
“Thanks for that.”
Cian swirled the whiskey in his glass, kept his eyes on it. “There are some thi
ngs I’d like Moira to have, if you can get them here.”
“I’ll get them here.”
“I thought to leave the club and the apartment in New York to Blair—and to Larkin. I think they’d suit them better than you.”
“They would. They’ll be grateful, I’m sure.”
Annoyance rose up at his brother’s easy and practical tone. “Well, don’t let sentiment choke you, as it’s more likely I’ll be holding a wake for you than you for me.”
Hoyt angled his head. “Do you think so?”
“I damn well do. You haven’t had three decades and I’ve had near a hundred. And you never were as good in a fight as me when we were both alive, however many tricks you have up your sleeve.”
“But then again, as you said, we aren’t what we were, are we?” Hoyt smiled pleasantly. “I’m determined we’ll both come through this, but if you fall, well…I’ll lift a glass to you.”
Cian let out a half laugh as Hoyt did just that.
“And would you be wanting pipes and drums as well?”
“Oh, bugger it.” Now a wicked gleam came into Cian’s eyes. “I’ll toss in some fifes for yours, then console your grieving widow.”
“At least I won’t have to dig a hole for you, seeing as you’ll just be dust, but I’ll show you the honor of having a stone carved. ‘Here doesn’t lie Cian, for he’s blown off with the wind. He lived and he died, then stayed on like the last annoying guest to leave the ball.’ Does that suit you?”
“I’m thinking I’ll go back and change some of those bequests, for principle only, seeing as I’ll be singing ‘Danny Boy’ over your grave.”
“What’s ‘Danny Boy’?”
“A cliche.” Cian picked up the bottle he’d set on the floor and poured more whiskey into the cups. “I saw Nola.”
“What?” Hoyt lowered the cup he’d just lifted. “What did you say?”
“In my room. I saw Nola, spoke with her.”
“You dreamed of Nola?”
“Is that what I said?” Cian snapped. “I said I saw her, spoke with her. As awake then as I am now, looking and speaking to you. She was still a child. Jesus, there isn’t enough whiskey in the world for this.”
“She came to you,” Hoyt murmured. “Our Nola. What did she say?”
“She loved me, and you. She missed us. She’d waited for us to come home. Damn it. Goddamn it.” He pushed up to pace. “She was a child, exactly as she’d been the last I saw her. It was a lie, of course. She’d grown up, grown old. She’d died and gone to dust.”
“And why would she come to you as a grown woman, or an old one?” Hoyt demanded. “She came to you as you remembered her, as you think of her. She gave you a gift. Why are you angry?”
It was fury in him now, fury to wrap tight around the pain. “How can you know what it is to feel this, to have it ripping inside you? She looked the same, and I’m not. She talked of how I’d swing her up on my horse and take her riding. And it was like it was yesterday. I can’t have those yesterdays in my head and stay sane.”
He turned back. “At the end of this, you’ll know you did what you could, what was asked of you—for her, for all of them. If you live, whatever pang you feel at leaving them behind will be balanced out by that knowing, and by the life you make with Glenna. I have to go back where I was. I have to. I can’t take this with me and survive it.”
Hoyt was quiet a moment. “Was she in pain, afraid, grieving?”
“No.”
“And you can’t take that with you and survive it?”
“I don’t know, that’s the plain truth. But I know that one feeling leads to another until you drown in them. I’m half drowned now with what’s in me for Moira.”
He calmed himself, sat again. “She wore the cross you gave her, Nola did. She said she wore it always, just as you told her. I thought you should know. And I thought you should know she told me Lilith had come back, and tried to lure her into an invitation.”
As Cian’s had done, Hoyt’s hand fisted. “That hell-bitch went for our Nola?”
“She did, and got a boot up the ass for the trouble—metaphorically.” He told Hoyt what Nola had said, watched Hoyt’s grim face soften a little with pride and satisfaction. “Then she flashed that cross of yours and sent her packing. According to Nola she never came back again, until we did.”
“Well now, well. Isn’t that interesting. The cross didn’t just shield the wearer, it frightened Lilith enough to send her haring off. That, and the prediction we’d end her.”
“Which may be why she’s so determined to end us.”
“Aye. Nola’s threat could have added weight to that. Imagine how it must have been for Lilith, being frightened off by a child.”
“She wants her own back, no doubt of it. She wants to win this, of course. To set herself up as a kind of god, but under that, it’s us. The six of us and the connection between us. She wants us destroyed.”
“Hasn’t had much luck with that, has she?”
“And what do you think of that? The gods depose, don’t they? We’ve all of us had our close calls, and bled for it. But we’re all of us, Lilith included, being driven toward one time and place. The fact of the matter is, I don’t care for being led by the nose by gods any more than demons.”
Hoyt lifted his brows. “What choice is there?”
“They all talk of choice, but which of us would turn away from this now? It’s not just humans who have pride, after all. So, the time clicks away.” He rose. “And we’ll see what we see on that reckoning day. The sun’s well down. I’m going out for air.”
He walked to the door, paused to glance back. “She couldn’t tell me if you survived it.”
Hoyt lifted a shoulder, finished off his whiskey. Then he smiled. “‘Danny Boy,’ is it?”
Cian went to see to his horse. Then, though he knew it was risky, saddled Vlad and rode out through the gates. He needed the speed, and the night. Maybe he needed the risk as well.
The moon was past half full now. When that circle was complete, blood—human and demon—would soak the ground.
He hadn’t fought in other wars, hadn’t seen the point of them. Wars for land, for riches and resources. Wars waged in the name of faith. But this one had come to be his.
No, it wasn’t only humans who had pride, or even honor. Or love. So for all of that, this was his. If his luck was in, he’d ride one day again in Ireland—or wherever he chose. And he’d think of Geall with its lovely hills and thick forests. He’d think of the green and the tumbling water, the standing stones, and the fanciful castle on the rise near the river.
He’d think of its queen. Moira, with the long gray eyes and the quiet smile that masked a clever, flexible brain and a deep, rich heart. Who would have believed that after all these lifetimes he would be seduced, bewitched, drowned in such a woman?
He took Vlad leaping over stone walls, galloping over fields where the air was sweet and cool with the night. The moonlight rained down on the stones of her castle, and the windows glowed with candles and lamps. She’d kept her word, he thought, and had hoisted that third flag, so there was claddaugh, dragon, and now the bright gold sun.
He wished, with all that was in him, that she would give Geall, and all the worlds, the sun after the blood spilled.
Maybe he couldn’t take all these feelings, these needs and wants with him and survive. But he wanted to take this. When he went back to the dark, he wanted to take this much of her, and have that single glimmer of light through all his nights.
He rode back, and found her waiting, with her bow in her hands and the sword of Geall strapped to her side.
“I saw you ride out.”
He dismounted. “Covering my back, were you?”
“We’d agreed none of us would go out alone, particularly after dark.”
“I needed it,” was all he said, and led the stallion to the stables.
“So it seemed, from the way you were riding. I didn’t see any hounds of hell, b
ut it appeared you did. Would you trust one of the stable boys to cool him and settle him for the night? It helps them to have the work, as much as it might help you to have a wild ride.”
“There’s a scolding under that accommodating tone, Majesty. You do it very well.”
“Learned at my mother’s knee.” She took the reins herself, then passed them with instructions to the boy who came hurrying out from the stables.
When she’d finished, she looked up at Cian. “Are you in a mood?”
“Always.”
“I should have said a difficult mood, but the answer might be always to that as well. If you’re not, more than usual, I’d hoped you’d have a meal with me. In private. I’d hoped you’d stay with me tonight.”
“And if I am in a difficult mood?”
“Then a meal and some wine might sweeten it enough for you to lie with me, and stay with me. Or, we can argue over the food, then go to bed.”
“I’d have to have taken a spill from the horse and damaged my brain to turn down that offer.”
“Good. I’m hungry.”
And furious, he thought with some amusement. “Why don’t you get the lecture out of your system. It’s liable to give you indigestion.”
“I don’t have a lecture, and if I did, it’s not what would suit me.” She walked—regally, he thought—across the courtyard. “What I’d like is to give you a good, strong kick in the ass for taking a chance like that. But…”
She drew a long breath, then a second as they entered the castle. “I know what it is to need to get away, to just go for a bit. How it feels you’ll rip apart from the pressure inside if you don’t. I can go into a book and be quiet in my mind again. You needed the ride, the speed of it. And, I think, there are times you just need the dark.”
He said nothing until they’d come to the door of her room. “I don’t know how you can understand me that way.”
“I’ve made a study of you.” Now she smiled a little, looking up and into his eyes. “I’m a good study. And added to it, you’re inside my heart now. You’re inside me, so I know.”