Dark Needs at Night's Edge iad-5

by Kresley Cole

  But it'd be for naught.

  Néomi had only thought she'd known what intensity was in this man. Now she realized that his fiercest emotion was... love. It blazed from his eyes. And she knew he wanted her to see how he felt.

  Yet then her sight began clouding as her dizziness increased. A fog seemed to slide around everyone, hindering her vision.

  Still holding her, Tarut advanced on Conrad.

  "No," she choked out. As the demon leveled his sword at Conrad's neck, she seized a breath. "I'm... dying anyway! Leave here!"

  Conrad's brows drew together in confusion; Tarut swung his sword.

  38

  An instant before it sliced through Conrad, Tarut's sword—and the meaty arm that wielded it—dropped to the ground.

  The hit happened so fast, what was left of Tarut's arm flew past Conrad's face, spraying blood.

  Cadeon had struck Tarut from behind, lunging from the smoke demon's tracing to strike just in time.

  At once, Conrad grappled against the two who held him, frenzied to get to Néomi. The clash of steel rang out over the pouring rain and howling wind as Cadeon's men engaged the Kapsliga.

  Conrad's mortal Bride was in the midst of an immortal battle—

  When Tarut twisted around to face Cadeon, dagger in his other hand, Conrad bellowed, "No! Tarut's holding her!"

  But Cadeon had already given a jabbing thrust.

  Tarut had used Néomi to shield him.

  Time slowed; Conrad couldn't see her, but he could scent her flowing blood... . He could see Cadeon's shocked reaction as he drew back his sword.

  The demon had run it through her.

  "No!" Conrad roared, struggling frantically. "Néomi!"

  When Cadeon raised his sword again, Tarut finally dropped Néomi to block the strike. Too late.

  Just after Conrad spied Tarut's head thudding to the ground, he caught sight of her... collapsing into the mud... limp, eyes open and dazed, pooling blood from her mouth and stomach.

  With a roar, he snatched out one Kapsliga's throat with his clenching fingertips. He caught the other one by the roof of the mouth to wrench his head back and off his neck. The other Kapsligas fled at the sight.

  Freed, Conrad lurched for her, sinking to his knees beside her. "Néomi!" He clasped her body up into his arms. "You stay with me!"

  She could tell the old madness was on the verge of reclaiming him. He was adjusting her sodden robe in jerky motions—as if to keep her covered and warm in the rain.

  Néomi didn't want to look down. Strangely, there was no pain—only numbness. But the demon's expression had told her everything. The wound was a mortal one.

  Cadeon turned to approach them. As he made his way, she dimly heard the others... .

  "Cade did what?" Rydstrom yelled. "What the fuck did you say, Rök?"

  "He's gutted the vampire's Bride," Rök said. "The leech is worthless to us now—you can't torture them any worse than this."

  "I didn't see her," Cadeon told Conrad. "I never saw her."

  She felt pity for him—after all, he'd saved Conrad's life. If only he hadn't taken her own.

  Even Néomi shivered at Conrad's expression. With his eyes blazing red with malice, he said, "A thousand times over, demon. Anything you love will die." Then he traced her inside their room.

  As he cradled her head, he mumbled his thoughts aloud. "Hospital. Where? A human hospital... " His eyes darted wildly. His face was beaten by the Kapsliga, his jaw swollen and lip busted. "You stay with me," he pleaded down to her in a tormented voice. "J-just hold on for me! Need to think... "

  She wanted so badly to stroke him to comfort him, but her arms hung useless. I know this feeling. So cold.

  Dying. Just as Nïx had predicted. On the day I told Conrad the secret, but not as they'd expected. Fate could be so cruel.

  "Need to find a hospital... "

  She shook her head as much as she could. She wouldn't make it to the hospital—it was too late for her. But she had to explain, so he didn't think this was his fault. "Conrad... was dying anyway."

  "Don't talk!" His voice was raw.

  Sounds were dimming. Blood left her body so swiftly, like it had just been awaiting the chance. "I called a witch... she came through... the studio mirror." Sight going blurry. "Made me alive... but only for a short time. Knew this... couldn't tell you."

  "Your death was the deal with the devil?" He was quaking beside her. "And you got just two goddamned weeks?"

  "Worth it!" She weakly coughed. "Love you."

  At that, blood tracked from his eyes like tears... . But then his body suddenly grew still. "What witch, koeri?"

  "Mariketa."

  Clutching her to his chest, he traced them into the studio. "Just stay alive, Néomi!"

  After easing her to the cot by the mirror, he found a blanket and pressed it to her wound. "My brave girl," he rasped, "you stay with me." Then he faced the glass. "Witch!" he roared. "Come to me!"

  As he continued to yell for Mari, Néomi fought to remain conscious, wanting to tell him that Mari couldn't help, that he was getting his hopes up only to have them crushed. But with each attempt, she coughed up more blood.

  "Mariketa!" He punched the mirror in a frenzy, battering his hand. "Come to me!"

  When there was no response, he sank to his knees beside Néomi. "Ah, God, come to us!"

  39

  "Forgodsakes, lay off!" Mari's voice sounded from the mirror minutes later. "We're coming!"

  Néomi cracked open her lids when Conrad sank down beside her on the cot. He gently cradled her head in his lap.

  "Why do you always get to go first?" Mari's voice demanded.

  "Because I'm bigger than you are," came Bowen's reply.

  When the Lykae emerged from the glass, with Mari following, their eyes went wide.

  Mari started for Néomi, but Bowen's hand shot out for her arm, shoving her behind him. After he scanned the area and scented the air, he turned to Conrad. "Who did this to your female?"

  "Demon," Conrad answered, his voice hoarse from yelling. "Named Cadeon."

  "That bastard!" Bowen snapped, drawing Mari to his side. "You should've let me smash him in the jungle!"

  "Cade? Oh, Hekate, you can't be serious!" Mari hurried to Néomi. "So that's who's been trying to call me. It had to have been an accident."

  Néomi weakly nodded, then coughed up more blood.

  Conrad squeezed her hand too forcefully, looking to be teetering on the brink.

  Mari's gaze landed on Néomi's neck. "You bit her. Did you see her memories?"

  "No, it was just hours ago—"

  "Then how did you know to contact me through the mirror?"

  "Néomi told me after... after she was... Damn it, what does it matter? Just fix this spell, witch."

  "I'm so sorry." Mari shook her head sadly. "I can't fix it. I told Néomi this going in."

  "Heal—this—body."

  "It's just a shell. Even if I could heal her, she'd just get killed again and again."

  "If all she needs is a real body—I'll return directly!"

  That's my Conrad. So intense.

  "The conditions for the assumption of another's body are lengthy," Mari said. "Chiefly among them—the body has to be donated by its owner. Not, er, commandeered."

  "Restore her old one. I knew warlocks who could revivify flesh, creating a body from a strand of hair." He was clearly trying so hard, struggling to say the right words. "You could do that with Néomi," he said, his voice breaking on her name.

  Mari answered, "That's how they make soulless zombies."

  Conrad said, "We have a soul, waiting right here." When Néomi felt herself becoming less substantial, he murmured, "Stay with me, Néomi. Please, baby."

  "Embodying a spirit isn't a science. It's an art, and it'd be outside my skill set as it is, much less if I have to revivify her dead body as well. Normally, a witch would heal the body in one step, then implant the spirit in another step. Now you want me to do both
at the same time? Even though I've never done either before?"

  "Yes—you must!" Inhaling deeply for control, he grated, "A dream demon marked me. I think that curse had something to do with her injury. This happened to Néomi just before the demon was killed tonight."

  Mari's eyes narrowed. "You mean a dream demon hijacked my subject to give you a nightmare? My mystickal signature was all over her. And some tool just ignored that?"

  Bowen put his hand on her shoulder. "He might no' have seen it, Mari."

  "Anyone immersed in magick of this sort would have seen it. That really pisses me off. I'm supposed to be the most powerful witch, and my spell got owned in two weeks."

  Think... think.

  Control—never had Conrad needed it more; never had he been more in danger of losing it completely.

  Wait... "Witch, if you don't do something about this, everyone will think they can overturn your spells at will. Who would pay you for spells that don't take?"

  MacRieve growled, just as Mariketa said, "You think I can't see what you're doing? Unfortunately, it's working."

  "You canna think of this!" MacRieve snapped.

  Mariketa cast the Lykae a troubled glance, then told Conrad, "Vampire, understand that I've never done this on a human. And another problem—I don't even have her body. I'd need to scry for the location of it, again while I'm doing everything else!"

  "She's fading." Conrad raked his fingers through his hair. "Time's running out! What do we have to lose?"

  MacRieve said, "She could come back wrong."

  Conrad met his eyes. "I'll do what's necessary if she does."

  "It's no' only that," the Lykae said. "Mari can enthrall herself in the mirror. Her eyes will incinerate anything that comes between her and her reflection, and she'll get stuck in an eternal trance. I feel for you, vampire, but I will no' allow her to put herself at risk."

  "Sebastian saved your life—and he spared you from an unspeakable fate. You owe him a debt."

  MacRieve's gaze flickered over Mariketa and changed color with some fierce emotion. Hardening his expression, he turned to Conrad. "No' a debt like this."

  Mariketa turned to Néomi on the cot. "Would you want this, honey? A mortal life?"

  When she nodded weakly, Mariketa stood and crossed to MacRieve. Gazing up at him, the witch said, "I think I can do this. I have to try. I mean, look at the vampire."

  Néomi had just gone unconscious—Conrad knew he appeared on the razor's edge when MacRieve scowled.

  "We're running out of time," Conrad grated.

  Mariketa pulled MacRieve farther to the side. "You said that if I married you, you would never get in the way of my career. This is spectacularly getting in my career's way. Do you know how good this would look on my résumé?"

  "I also promised your parents and your coven that I would no' let you get lost in the mirror again. You're no' ready yet, lass! It's too soon after... that last time."

  "Bowen, this has sat ill with me since I did the spell on Néomi. And I know you hate Cade, but he and his brother did save my life. He's been calling for my help with this. If I save Néomi, I'll be able to repay my debt to them." She took one of his hands in both of hers. "Just believe in me. I can do this. I feel like I can." When he clenched his jaw, evidently a sign of defeat, she smiled. "Will you get my Big-Spell gloves?"

  Muttering in Gaelic, he scuffed back into the mirror.

  While MacRieve was gone, the witch told Conrad, "The cost is going to be high, vampire. I'm gonna need ten mil for this one. I accept real estate, stones, or bullion. Or stock certificates from the twenties that are exponentially undervalued. And you have to vow to the Lore to pay it, since we don't have time for contracts."

  "Agreed, ten million," he answered easily. "I vow to the Lore to pay it. But you must agree to keep this secret. If the demons know, they will only come after her again."

  "I'm bound by the mercenary code to keep our dealings confidential," she said, but she was clearly troubled, conflicted about hiding this from her demon friend, a demon who'd apparently saved her life.

  "Good, then. For the record, witch, I think you can do this, too."

  Her expression briefly turned grim. "Just be ready to make hard choices, Conrad, in case I can't."

  Still surly, MacRieve returned with a strange pair of fingerless gloves. The palms looked to be lined with some kind of bendable mirror.

  As Mariketa donned them, she took a deep breath, seeming to shake off her disquiet. She told Conrad, "I like Néomi—I'd have tried this for half that amount."

  "I love Néomi—I'd have paid anything you could dream up."

  "Oh, snap! Live and learn, eh? Okay, one vampire's Bride brought back from the grave." She slapped her gloved hands and rubbed them together. "Let's put the fun back in funeral!"

  40

  Mariketa faced the mirror, tilting her head. "This is the first time I've really looked at my reflection in months." To the Lykae, she said, "No wonder you love me. Could I be any cuter?"

  "You will no' charm me from my apprehension, so doona bother," MacRieve said. "You're tae pull back if you feel anything amiss. Do you ken?"

  She nodded. "Got it. Now, I need two mirrors standing on both sides of me, stat."

  Conrad eased away from Néomi. "The broken mirrors on this wall are all there is."

  "Grab them. Bring them to me."

  He ripped a sizable shard from the wall in the studio. Blood from his fingers ran along the edges as he shoved the jagged tip through the wood floor until it stood upright. "Will this work?"

  Gazing at his blood, she absently said, "It'll have to. Do the second one."

  He repeated the process. As she continued staring at the blood, her eyes went wide as if with realization, before they narrowed on the streak.

  "Should I clean that?"

  She hesitated for long moments. "Leave it," she finally said with a swallow.

  Conrad grated, "Witch, what is it?"

  She averted her face, as if with guilt. "We're ready."

  Once Mariketa was nearly enclosed by the mirrors, she made her hands into fists and closed her eyes. When her lids slid open, her eyes were... mirrors themselves, gleaming and reflecting everything she gazed upon. Her fingers uncurled and light glowed from one of her gloved palms.

  Conrad hurried back to Néomi, but she was fading. The more Néomi's form dimmed, the brighter the light in the witch's palm grew.

  Just as Mariketa's toes left the ground, a language even Conrad didn't recognize began to spill from her lips, but he could sense that her words were throbbing with power. With one hand, she made a fist around the light, as if physically grabbing onto Néomi's spirit. "She's going to disappear now," Mariketa told him, never glancing from the mirror.

  When Néomi's hand vanished from his own, madness threatened. Her robe, nightgown and the ring he'd given her remained on the cot. He swallowed. Keep it together.

  He took the ring, determined to see her wearing it once more.

  "Found her grave." The witch pointed the forefinger of her other hand down and stirred. "I'm beginning the body." Again and again, she circled that finger, seeming to be meeting great resistance. The spell began taking a toll. She grew out of breath, nearly hyperventilating.

  "You can do this, Mariketa." Conrad swallowed. "Bring my Néomi back to me... ."

  The light in her hands intensified even more. The air grew heavier, ominous. As if agitated by the tension, creatures began skittering in the walls surrounding them.

  MacRieve peered around him. "This does no' feel right. As if we're doing something we ought never do!"

  "Shut up, MacRieve," Conrad snapped, though he'd felt the same atmosphere, threatening, like they were challenging a force far greater than they—and might be crushed for their audacity.

  She began chanting once more. The light was building, building... . She shoved her hands out, seeming to fuel even more magick into the spell. The house began quaking.

  "Have to... break
through. Need to age... "

  Age?

  More unintelligible chanting, louder and louder, until she was practically screaming the words. The studio windows exploded. Papers flew in a tempest. "Bowen, I'm... losing it!"

  "Mariketa!" With a roar, MacRieve lunged for her, trying to heave her away from the glass. But the Lykae couldn't budge the small female from the mirror's hold.

  The silver glaze of her eyes darkened, as if ink flooded inside them. They began to turn wholly black. "This is bad!" she cried.

  "No, Mari, doona do this!" He cupped his hand over her eyes, but the skin of his palm began to burn away in two distinct holes.

  "Oh, Hekate, no!" she screamed.

  The light in her hands exploded like a bomb, so intense it briefly blinded Conrad. "What was that?" he yelled. "What is happening?"

  Mariketa gasped for breath. "Néomi... embodied."

  He yanked his head around. "Where is she? Tell me!"

  "There's a problem! It—" Her body stiffened, unmoving. She stared unblinking at the mirror.

  "Ah, God, no' again, Mari!" MacRieve used his other hand to shield her eyes, until two smoking holes appeared in that hand as well. He snatched at her again, but even with his strength, he couldn't wrest her from that spot.

  "What was the problem, witch? Where is Néomi?" Conrad was frenzied to see her. "Where is she embodied?" He charged for Mariketa. "Wake your witch up, MacRieve!"

  The Lykae peered over his shoulder, baring his fangs. "Watch your step, vampire. I'm a breath from turnin'."

  "How can I find Néomi? Break the goddamned mirror!"

  "No' a chance—it could kill her."

  "Put something bigger in front of her!" Conrad bit out, struggling to control himself.

  "She burns anything away!"

  "How long could she be like this?"

  "Fucking forever, vampire!" MacRieve roared, his irises turning ice blue, the beast flickering over his form. If the Lykae turned because his mate was in danger, even Conrad couldn't defeat him. "As I'd bloody told you!"

  Pacing, Conrad stabbed his fingers through his hair. "Christ, I don't know where Néomi is!"