Shadow’s Fall

by Dianne Sylvan

  Deven lifted one of the stakes, his eyes meandering from it to Faith and back, before he said, “Very well, Faith. You’ve made your allegiance quite clear.”

  “My allegiance is exactly where it should be. With my Prime and Queen. Whatever my emotional connection to him, whatever conflict I might feel … I am loyal to my friends. And that’s more than you’ve ever been.”

  She bowed to him, then to Jonathan. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my shift. Unless you’re going to kill me?”

  Deven made a gesture of dismissal.

  “Right. Good night, my Lords.”

  She stalked out of the suite to the elevator, hoping it would be waiting for her, but damn it, it was down several floors and she had to wait.

  A moment later there were footsteps. She sighed. “I’m not going to—”

  “Faith,” Jonathan said softly, urgently, taking her arm. “Please listen.”

  He’d never been physically forward with her before; Jonathan tended to give women a wide berth and was very careful not to presume familiarity. But now he touched her, drew her to the side.

  “Believe whatever you want about all of this,” Jonathan said, “But please believe me when I say that Deven is right. I’ve seen … I know that the Stone is going to cause horrible suffering to whoever is wearing it when it activates. I don’t know if any of the Order’s doctrine is true, but I know someone is going to die. I don’t know if it can be stopped, but if it can, this may be our only chance. Please, Faith … if you don’t want to steal the Stone, just do the best you can to make sure David and Miranda aren’t in the building with it on the new moon. That wouldn’t be hard, and it wouldn’t have to involve lying. Just … think about it, all right? This is me asking, not Deven making demands. Please … just think about it.”

  The elevator dinged, and he nudged her gently toward it, stepping back away from her. Faith got in reluctantly, her mind swimming with questions she knew he wouldn’t answer … and when the doors slid shut, she felt unaccountably like she was standing inside a tomb.

  They didn’t speak for a while. Jonathan leaned back against the locked suite door, eyes closed, his stomach a bottomless pit of shame.

  When he opened his eyes again, Deven had risen from the table and was coming over to him. The Prime laid his hands on Jonathan’s shoulders, and their eyes met.

  “She’ll do it,” Jonathan said softly. “I don’t know what she’ll tell them, but she’ll do whatever she can to keep them away from the Stone.”

  “What did you say to her?”

  “I told her the truth,” Jonathan snapped. “I know that’s a foreign concept to you. The choice is up to her—but I know which one she’ll make. Does that make you happy? Everything’s going your way again.”

  For a wonder, there was actual hurt in Deven’s eyes. “That’s all anyone thinks of me,” he said. “Even my own Consort thinks I’m doing all this for selfish gain.” He turned away, toward the window. “Is it so wrong to want to spare those I love certain pain? To have seen them suffer, over and over, and want to stop it from happening again?”

  “Life is pain,” Jonathan said. “At least, part of it is. By denying them the right to determine their own destinies, you deny them the right to truly live.”

  “Oh? That’s a bit rich coming from someone who sees the future and who wanted to stay here in the first place. If you saw someone about to step in front of a train, could you honestly say you wouldn’t call out?”

  “That’s the thing, Deven. We don’t know. We have the word of several spies within the Order who aren’t high up enough on the food chain to know all the Mysteries. We have rumors and hearsay that’s been tainted by thousands of years of history and hatred. We don’t even know the whole creation myth, much less its fallout—and that’s assuming it’s more than just a bedtime story. If we told David about all of this, we could all work together to find the truth, but you have to keep going it alone, behind everyone’s backs, the all-knowing, all-seeing Alpha. But you’re not all-knowing.”

  Deven didn’t face him, but Jonathan knew he was listening. Jonathan walked up behind him and put his arms around the Prime, tempering his harsh words with the gesture. He rested his chin on the top of Deven’s head as he had a thousand times before.

  “I love you,” Jonathan said. “I know I must be a moron for it, and I probably qualify for sainthood, but … I do. And here I stand, watching you try so desperately to change things and keep people you love from getting hurt, but Deven … they’ll get hurt anyway. You’ve succeeded at more plans and missions than I can imagine, but when it comes to all of us … your heart will never let you win.”

  Deven leaned back into Jonathan’s shoulder, and when he spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “I’m so tired, Jonathan … sometimes I wish it could all just be over with. In a way I’m just like you … I wish to God I didn’t know the things I know … and sometimes I regret even meeting David, let alone all that came after. It was so much easier when I didn’t care about anyone.”

  “I don’t think that would ever be possible for you,” he replied. “Fight it all you want, but I know what you really are, my love … and it’s not a monster.”

  “I had to kill Lydia,” Deven said, though even his tone disagreed with the words. “If my theory that she was Hart’s ally is true, we have to assume Hart still has people here in town waiting to tear into the Elite the minute that Stone awakens and the South is defenseless. She was going to help them somehow. We had to stop her. And even after that, her involvement with the Order means she wouldn’t give up—she would throw in her lot with Hart again and again to get the war she wanted.”

  Jonathan nodded. “I agree with you as far as that goes. I know she was in town for more than just delivering the Stone. There was something else … something else she was supposed to give someone … but that’s all I know. We didn’t find anything on her body, and no indication of where she might have been staying, so whatever she was delivering must have been information.”

  “Well, she won’t have a chance to deliver it now,” Deven said with a sigh, turning his face into Jonathan’s chest. “That much at least I did right.”

  Hot fudge, thick and dark as a dreamless sleep, dripped down from the spoon, onto a puddle of equally warm caramel sauce coating pecan halves, melting the vanilla ice cream underneath to an alchemical perfection that not even blood could outmatch.

  Miranda let her eyes flutter closed and took another bite, allowing the flavors to mingle on her tongue with a moan of pleasure. “You really are a genius,” she said to her husband around mouthfuls.

  The Prime chuckled and lifted up his napkin to wipe a stray spot of caramel from Miranda’s nose.

  The ice cream shop was otherwise empty, but outside the streets bustled with the usual amount of human traffic for a warm night in early summer. Sixth Street was the heart of downtown Austin, and from where they were she could see the mammoth Whole Foods flagship store, the city’s favorite independent bookstore, and a natural eco-friendly beauty products boutique. Here, in fact at this very table, she and David had had their first … well, “date” wasn’t exactly the right word, but it was the closest thing she could come up with.

  This time they leaned closer together, hands entwined, instead of trying to ignore the tension between them. This time there were Elite keeping the humans at a distance, as well as Miranda’s empathy gently steering the mortals away from the store just until she and David were gone. It had been a risk coming here, but David was right; they needed to unplug for a minute. David had offered the employees each a substantial bribe to close the store for half an hour.

  The last time she’d sat in this chair she’d been human.

  Everything was so different now.

  Well, not everything. David still got sprinkles on his sundae.

  They smiled at each other. He kissed her nose. “Do you want a soda?” he asked. “I’m going to get one.”

  “Sure.”


  She watched him saunter up to the counter and speak to the … what was the word for an ice cream–scooper person, anyway? Coffee shops had baristas; bars had bartenders. Miranda absently reached into her shirt and fiddled with her Signet, letting her fingers trace over the stone, the metal. As David turned around, she dropped the Signet and returned to her ice cream.

  David sat back down, two frosty cans and two plastic cups of ice—plus one straw—in his hands. She took the Coke he offered, knowing he preferred Dr Pepper, and took the straw. She loved how the bubbles in the soda perked up all over her tongue; had they felt like that when she was human? She couldn’t remember.

  She glanced over at the counter again, where one of the scoopers was wiping down the slab of stone where they pounded ingredients into the ice cream. He was mortal … she could practically see him aging, from where she sat. Was it ever going to feel normal, knowing she would never grow old? Somewhere in Dallas her father was recovering from a mild heart attack; the perfunctory e-mail from her sister, Marianne, had come about six months ago, and Miranda had sent perfunctory flowers. How long until he died … and then Marianne … and then her children … and their children … ?

  She had to shake her head to clear away the thoughts; they never went anywhere, because she had nowhere to take them. Faith was right; she couldn’t make sense of immortality yet. She had to take one day, one week, one year at a time, and deal with what was in front of her.

  What was in front of her was even less comforting than eternity.

  “I know a lot has happened in the last week,” David said, “but honestly, we’re in control of everything now. Please don’t look so worried.”

  “Let’s make a list,” Miranda said, holding up her fingers. “One: We have a magic box and toy delivered by your sire whose origins and purpose are basically unknown. Two: Hart is conspiring against us, and we’re having trouble figuring out who the hell his Second really is—it’s like the guy’s a ghost. Three: We had an Alpha Seven last night out of nowhere. Four: We don’t know who killed Monroe. Five: I’m supposed to be laid up in bed for an undetermined amount of time, which means every time I want to come into town we have to do this.” She gestured at the guards outside and the employees casting covert glances at their guests … who would wipe their memories clean before leaving.

  David nodded. “All true. But the Alpha Seven was a random act, probably a vampire who came to town for the music festival to try to get away with killing. Big events like ALMF do three things: snarl traffic, help the economy, and bring out the crazies. Meanwhile, the lab will have full results on the talisman and box by tomorrow night at the latest. I’m running a search comparing the components in the liquid explosive used to kill Monroe so we can narrow down possible manufacturers—bomb makers tend to have signatures, and if I can link any of those ingredients with an R&D company working on transmitters like the two we’ve uncovered so far, we’ll have a lead. If we’re really lucky, the same people will be able to shed light on both Monroe’s death and whoever’s been killing Hart’s Elite.”

  Miranda nodded. “What have we found out about Jeremy?”

  “Not much. Deven’s people are on that, and also on Lydia and the Order, but it’ll take a couple of days to get anything back.”

  “I thought Deven was in the Order.”

  “He was a member of their warrior class, the Swords of Elysium—the group he worked with was secular and not directly involved with the priesthood that Lydia belongs to. He knows their basic philosophy and structure but never got any deeper in than it took to learn their fighting style and make connections with their weaponsmiths.”

  She stabbed at a pecan with her spoon. “I suppose it was asking too much for the Council to come and go without causing half our lives to unravel.”

  When she looked up, he was smiling at her, and his face held no worry, no stress, only love. She found herself blushing. “What?”

  His smile broadened. “I was just thinking about the last time you and I sat here. You were lecturing me about not wanting to live in fear, and I was hoping to God I could get through the night without kissing you breathless.”

  She smiled back. “You didn’t make it,” she said, taking his hand. “Thank goodness.”

  “I wonder how much easier things would have been if I’d been able to admit from that first moment that I realized I loved you?”

  “What moment was that?”

  “I believe it was the first night I heard you playing your guitar in the Haven … sitting on your bed, in your pajamas, your hair falling all around you … I was, in that moment, undone.”

  Miranda held his fingers to her lips. “Do you remember what I was playing?”

  “‘Rain,’” he replied, without having to think about it. “Patty Griffin.” He took a bite of his sundae with his free hand, then asked a bit mischievously, “When did you first realize you loved me?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said truthfully. “I was so messed up back then … I think on some level I knew almost from the moment we met, but I couldn’t really acknowledge those feelings until much later, when I was ready to face them. I think … it didn’t really come together, and I didn’t really understand, until you were on my couch quoting Shakespeare at me.”

  He held her eyes. “‘Silence is the perfectest herald of joy … ’”

  She smiled and finished the line. “‘I were but little happy, if I could say how much.’”

  David’s smile faded a little. “Are you happy with me, beloved? If you had it to do again, would you, knowing what would happen?”

  “Knowing my friends would die or leave … knowing you’d go to bed with your ex three months after marrying me … knowing I’d end up killing people … knowing I’d get shot … knowing I’d be at the center of events I don’t even understand?”

  He looked down at the table. “Knowing all of that.”

  She laughed and took both of his hands, catching his eyes with hers. “I would, absolutely, without a doubt, do it all again … because as hard as it’s been, as much pain as I’ve been through and as much uncertainty as there is … I am happy. Don’t ever doubt that, David. This life with all its weirdness and all its burdens is where I belong. I may have my doubts about my own strength sometimes, but I chose to be here … and I have yet to regret that choice.”

  “I hope you never do,” he said softly.

  “Let’s go home,” Miranda said. “I want this date to end the way our first one did.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her; they could each taste the other’s ice cream. Miranda found herself cursing the number of miles between downtown Austin and the Haven … but a little anticipation, she had learned, made the having that much sweeter.

  “Let’s take these to go,” she said, pointing at her sundae. “I have plans for them later.”

  David’s eyes lit up, and he all but flew to the counter to settle the bill.

  Fourteen

  Faith knew that Wednesday night would be the ideal time to steal the Stone, if she so chose; it was her night off, the lab would be finishing up the data, and it would be easy for the item itself to vanish in between Hunter Development and the Haven. A witless courier, an improperly filled out chain-of-custody form, and the Stone could slip between the cracks and be found a couple of weeks later, no harm, no foul.

  If she so chose.

  But Faith hadn’t lived as long as she had by letting her emotions get the better of her. Even if what Deven and Jonathan said was true, even if the Stone would be deadly, David and Miranda had a right to know. What if they wanted to bring it into the Haven? Faith’s information could save their lives and would do so without forcing her to betray their trust in her. No; she absolutely could not steal the Stone.

  And so, as soon as the sun had set, she headed for the Signet suite, determination in her steps, spine straight. She would tell them that Deven and Jonathan were still in Austin, and that Deven was trying to play them all—again!—and that she
had refused to take part. Then David and Miranda could decide for themselves what to do with the information. It was her job, as Second, to report this kind of thing.

  That didn’t mean she didn’t have doubts. So rarely had Jonathan ever looked at her like that, and he’d never, ever pleaded with her, with so much seriousness in his eyes. Deven’s threats, she could deal with, but Jonathan … he wasn’t duplicitous. She wasn’t sure he knew how to be.

  It was a little early to be knocking on the door, but Faith didn’t want to wait. They needed to send the Stone away, preferably out of Austin entirely, until they were sure these Elysium crazies couldn’t open their magic voodoo lock and kill the Pair. Faith didn’t believe in goddesses any more than she did in God-with-a-capital-G, but she did believe in magic, and she believed in precaution over all.

  Faith nodded to the door guards and rapped lightly on the door; no answer. She was about to try again when she noticed the door was slightly ajar already. Good; she’d been admitted.

  She poked her head into the room, about to speak …

  … and froze.

  The firelight flickered golden and warm, bathing the room in its glow, perfectly illuminating the bed, whose curtains were drawn back partway … enough to see through them, to the rumpled sheets and comforter within.

  Faith watched, transfixed, unable to tear her eyes from the bare skin, marked with lines of black ink, almost translucent in the firelight … his long capable fingers tangled in strands of red, the curve of her belly and breasts rising and falling against the hard plane of his chest, her hands on his shoulders, back arching … the flash of his teeth in her neck, letting a few precious drops of blood trickle down over her skin, his tongue lapping them up with a soft growling noise.

  Their eyes were closed, but they were both smiling, such peace between them, such perfect and fulfilled desire … the waves of pleasure they were giving off were hard to resist and hit Faith like bricks, first in her belly, then hard in her chest.