The silence was painful.
“I suppose you all agree with him?” I demanded, guilt making me feel angrier still. I hadn't agreed with Lucas, at all. He wanted to come with me to Tartarus and I wouldn't have it. I needed him here, in case I never came back, but ... I shouldn't have dismissed his argument without listening, and I certainly shouldn't have slapped him, especially not in front of other people. Vampire pride was a fragile thing, all too easily bruised.
“No,” Cain replied. “But you could learn to be rather more diplomatic.”
My mouth hit the floor and even Inés gave Cain a look. Diplomacy was not this family's strong point. Destruction and chaos, no problem. Diplomacy ... not so much.
“You're Master now, luv,” Rodney said, his voice begging me to be reasonable. “The bloke's raison d'être is to protect the Master. He was just trying to do 'is job, and you don't make it easy now, do yer, lovely?”
I sighed. Crap. Now I had to apologise to Lucas. Again. “Fine!” I huffed. “I'll find him later. Other than that, do we have a plan?”
“Do we have the most ludicrous plan in the history of insanity?” Cain asked and then sighed. He nodded, his face grim. “I suppose so.”
Inés grinned at me, and there was excitement glittering in her eyes. “Oui.”
Cain turned to her. “Are you sure, Inés? You'll be here and if anything goes wrong once we're gone ...” His words hovered in the air. He didn't need to say it aloud to make it any more frightening. If anything went wrong and Inés couldn't bring us back, we'd be stuck in the Underworld in the hands of a psychopathic god.
“I won't be here,” Inés said, a sly smile at her lips. “I'll be with you.”
“What?” Cain demanded, and Inés waved her hand at him.
“Ne t'inquiéte pas.” She laughed at the horrified look on our faces. “Aradia will be here. She's had much more experience than me at this. I thought it was best.”
We all gaped at her. Firstly, Inés never, never admitted that anyone else could do something better than her. Least of all Aradia. She'd sulked for weeks at having to do the great La Dame Blanche's bidding after being punished for stealing her book of shadows. Secondly, it meant she would have had to ask Aradia for a favour which would have stung ... Thirdly, she'd once again be in her debt.
“I--I don't understand,” I stammered.
Inés gave me a smile, and it took me a moment to realise the look in her eyes was one of affection. I wasn't used to seeing it there. “Jéhenne, I won't risk you and Cain. I have lost too much over the years. I couldn't bear it ...”
She stopped and to my astonishment there were tears in her eyes. I ran to her and we hugged. I hoped that the fierceness of that embrace illustrated how I felt because I couldn't have spoken past the lump in my throat to save my life. We'd been through a lot, and I knew we'd be out for each other's blood again soon enough but she was family and she was looking out for me.
“Alors, you didn't seriously think I was going to sit here twiddling my thumbs while you got all the glory did you?” she demanded, one elegant dark eyebrow arched over those vivid green eyes. I laughed, the sound a touch hysterical as I let her go. I exhaled a shaky breath, making myself believe it. It was really going to happen. Finally. We were going to bring Corvus home.
***
It was all arranged for the next night. I was alive with impatience, my nerves stretched taut. The last thing I needed to deal with was a temperamental vampire, especially one I owed an apology. Things were not helped by the fact that I needed all the strength I could get before we left. Like it or not I would have to feed from Lucas tonight. I didn't like it.
I finally tracked him down outside, sitting by the lake in the pitch dark. There was no moon tonight, just an inky black sky punctured with stars. He was looking out across the glassy depths of the water - and still shielding his emotions from me with everything he had. I walked over to the bench he sat on.
“Is it alright if I join you?” I asked politely.
He looked up me, his eyes cold. “Do what you like, you will whatever I say, so it doesn't really matter does it?”
I swallowed the retort on my tongue with difficulty and reminded myself I'd come to apologise.
I sat down, the atmosphere between us stretched tight and uncomfortable. “You were wrong, Lucas.” I heard his sharp tut of annoyance and belatedly realised that, as opening gambits went, this had been a mistake. “But ...” I hurried on. “I was wrong too.” He turned to look at me then. “I should have at least listened to everything you said before I cut you off and ...” I took a breath. “And I shouldn't have slapped you ... Not in front of everyone.”
He raised one eyebrow in query. “You mean it would have been alright if no one had seen you do it.”
I shrugged. “Of course.” I looked at him and grinned, and he snorted.
“Bitch,” he muttered.
“Bastard.”
The dreadful tension, which had been singing through my body so hard I thought my neck would snap, lessened as he let his guard down a little. I took a breath and leaned into him, relishing the comfort being next to him gave me no matter how much it infuriated me too. He hesitated before moving his arm around my shoulders. I closed my eyes as my body relaxed a little, like unclenching a fist.
“Thank you,” I said.
He sighed. “When?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“You'll need to feed then.”
I nodded.
He turned around so that he was straddling the bench and gestured for me to do the same so that I was facing away from him. Once I'd turned, he bit into his wrist and brought it in front of me. I had to stop myself from snatching at it as the rich scent of powerful blood overwhelmed my senses. Oh God he smelt so good. My hands trembled as I took hold of his wrist and brought it to my mouth. I heard his muffled groan and ignored it, concentrating only on the taste, on the way the power thrummed through my veins, setting my skin on fire. I was only vaguely aware of him moving closer, but it seemed natural to lean into him, seemed only right that his arms closed around me, pulling me closer. The solid muscle of his chest pressed against my back, and I let my head tip back against his shoulder. It felt good. So good. His mouth was close to my neck, his breath coming fast and hot against my skin, and I could feel how badly he wanted to bite me, could feel the jut of his erection against my back. His free hand skimmed my side and fell to my hip, his fingers digging in, pulling me closer as he shifted against me, and my breath caught in my throat. He moaned, a deep, low sound of pleasure, and from somewhere I found the strength to pull away from him. I managed to break the spell his blood always cast over me. I turned on him, furious that he should have overstepped the mark.
“What the fuck are you playing at?” I yelled.
The comforting sense of his presence was shut down as he looked back at me, his expression carefully blank. We just stared at each other, our eyes equally cold and furious. He was gone a moment later, and I was alone in the darkness. It was only after he'd gone, when I was alone, that I allowed myself to realise that he hadn't been the only one to react. He was as much at the mercy of his blood as I was.
I clutched my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the evening. “Oh, God, Corvus, I need you back. I need you here. I miss you so much,” I whispered into the darkness.
Tomorrow, I told myself. Tomorrow he would be home, and I would find a way to make him whole again and no matter what else happened, as long as I had him back, I would take whatever else was coming without complaint.
***
I was dead. I knew it. My body had burned at the stake while soldiers had jeered and laughed and thrown things into the fire. I felt the pull immediately, the drag at my soul, pulling me back, pulling me away from Corvus and back to him - to Dis Pater.
Memories flooded back in a rush, and I was enveloped in fear. No! Oh goddess no! I struggled to stay, to cling this world and screamed as I saw Corvus return, the pain i
n my chest consuming me utterly as I saw the awful truth find its way to his heart, saw the moment of his destruction. “Corvus,” I wept, hopelessly. The devastation in his eyes was too much to bear, and I clung onto my fragile hold, needing to go to him. Desperate to cling to him and tell him I was so sorry, so very sorry. His cry rent the air, breaking my heart and tearing at my soul as he dropped to his knees before the flames.
The soldiers weren't laughing now as a dreadful silence fell over them. All that could be heard was the agony of his grief, and I wept along with him. Wept for him and for myself and the child we would never know. I had been so dreadfully stupid. I should never have allowed him to take me to his home and now ... Now he would blame himself for the rest of his life.
I screamed as the pull got stronger, tearing me away from Corvus, dragging me down to the Underworld once again. I could feel the anger behind it, the fury that I was denying him, that I hadn't run to him and thrown myself into his arms. Never. Never again.
The soldiers were moving away from Corvus now, some silent sense telling them that there was danger here. Corvus was quiet, utterly still. I held on, held on with everything I had. “No,” I begged him, “no, my love, don't do it. Live ... Live for me.”
I could have hoped that he would die, that we would be reunited in death, but I wasn't so naive. If he died he would be punished. “No,” I screamed, my voice useless in the in-between, the veil shielding this life and the next. So I watched, utterly helpless as he drew his sword and turned ...
Chapter 8
Cain looked at me, his eyes glittering like green glass in the candlelight. “Are you ready?”
I swallowed and took a breath. It was late morning but we were in the pitch dark of the library, all the shutters shut and a salt pentacle drawn out on the polished wood floor. We sat in the middle of the pentacle, just a shallow wooden bowl, my moonstone ring and Cain's athame between us. The blade of the athame glinted, as cold and sharp as his eyes, and I felt a prickle of real fear. I would do anything to get Corvus back but that didn't mean I wasn't scared to death. I wondered if it would hurt. A masochistic part of myself hoped that it would. It seemed fitting that I should suffer some kind of physical pain for everything that Corvus was enduring.
I nodded at Cain and gave him my hand. He took it in between his own hands, as coarse and scarred as the rest of him. He gave my fingers a brief squeeze and then before I could think about it he had sliced the athame across my wrist. I gasped in shock as the blood poured from the wound. For a moment it didn't hurt at all, the blade had been so sharp and his action so fast my brain was taking time to catch up. Then it did.
Tears pricked at my eyes as Cain's voice rose, coiling around me as though it was the darkness itself contained in his words. They pressed in on me, a desolate chill touching my skin and whispering around me. I felt desperately cold and began to shiver. The blood poured, the sound of it dripping into the bowl making me nauseous. I swayed, only Cain's hard grip on my wrist keeping me upright.
The little bowl was almost full and Cain dipped the point of the athame into the blood and began to draw on the air with it as he spoke, the words seeming to weigh the strange markings down so they hovered before us. The ancient symbols burned a bright white before my eyes before drifting towards Cain, like smoke to a chimney. They slid over him, and I felt a shiver of distaste, the idea of touching them made me shudder but he didn't flinch, just kept on speaking as they faded, sinking into his skin. I could still see them, wriggling beneath his flesh as they buried themselves within him. His voice got stronger, louder, and I felt a sickening pull inside of me, a tearing of something precious, as though my heart was being ripped from my body. I screamed then and pulled against his wrist despite myself, instinct and self-preservation fighting the wrongness, the wickedness of the act being performed on me. His hand on my wrist was as binding as iron, though, and I could not move. Cain's other hand made a slashing movement between us with the athame and pointed the blade at the moonstone ring as the room lit up. White light blinded me as pain, bright as the sun, seared me inside. I screamed and screamed until the darkness returned and it was done.
“Jéhenne?”
I blinked, trying to focus. The smell of blood was thick on the air along with the overly sweet smell of magic and burning. I groaned. There were times when vampire senses really sucked. On the other hand the wound on my wrist had stopped throbbing so maybe I shouldn't complain. I allowed Cain to pull me upright and then leaned forward so my head hit his shoulder.
“Feel sick,” I said, my voice hoarse.
“Yeah, I know,” he said, his voice sympathetic. “It will go off in a bit.”
I made myself sit up properly, aware that Cain didn't do sympathy with ease and looked up, intending to give him a reassuring smile. It froze on my lips as I looked at him. The hair at his temples was white. I reached out and touched it.
“What?” he asked.
“It's turned white here,” I said, a little awkwardly, gesturing at his temples. I knew my brother didn't give a damn about his appearance but somehow ... I felt it signified something rather more than just a superficial change.
“Oh.”
His face was unreadable, but I felt sure there had been a tremor in his voice. Anyone else wouldn't have noticed, but I was beginning to know Cain, despite his best efforts.
“Cain ... Are you OK?”
As usual his eyes told me nothing, he just nodded. “Fine, Jéhenne. Come on, you should lay down for a bit, and I need to clear this lot up.” He turned away from me and got to his feet before helping me to mine. I swayed a little, and he steered me to a chair. I collapsed into it with a sigh of relief.
“Are you sure you're OK?” I demanded as he shoved my head between my knees to stop me passing out.
He gave a grunt of amusement. “You're the one fainting not me.”
“Ha, bloody ha,” I muttered.
He crouched down in front of me and took my hands and it was then that I noticed it. It wasn't a pain, it wasn't even a discomfort but it was cold and ... empty. I started shivering again, and he nodded.
“I know, Jéhenne, you'll ...” He hesitated. “You'll get used to it.” He looked away from me and stood up, and I knew damn well he was lying. It was an awful feeling, like my hold on myself - on who I was, had been loosened somehow. I looked up at my brother and wondered how he bore it. He had promised Inés to take only the tiniest slice of my soul, just enough to make Dis Pater believe I was standing at the gates to the Underworld. Enough that he could sense my presence. But Cain, he had been slicing away pieces of his own soul for nearly two thousand years. What did that feel like? And what was the cost?
He turned and looked at me and smiled, the movement tugging at the scar that ran across his face from temple to cheek. He looked exactly like the kind of sorcerer who would use dark magic - blood magic - to gain power. Except that he had done it for me.
“Don't worry, Jéhenne, it's not for long, and I'll put it back. You're not Humpty Dumpty you know,” he said, shaking his head.
I felt a sudden swell of affection for him that forced a lump to my throat, and I held my hand out to him. “I'm so glad you're here, Cain.”
He didn't look at me but touched his fingertips to mine. “Me too, Nina,” he said softly. “Me too.”
***
“For fuck's sake, look at the state of you!”
This reassuring statement filtered through my sleepy brain, and I looked up from my bed to see Lucas' furious face glowering down at me.
“Oh, bugger off.” I groaned, clutching at my head. I felt like someone had swiped me with a sledge hammer and the cold, sick, empty feeling was a persistent ache in my chest.
“So you're off to rescue Corvus now are you?” He sneered. “You couldn't wrestle Kai right now, let alone a madman.”
It was a fair point which obviously irritated the hell out of me. I was feeling just a little guilty at how I'd treated him last night, though, so I let it go. �
��Please don't shout,” I said, my voice hoarse.
He picked up a chair and sat it beside the bed before leaning over and offering his wrist to me. “Don't worry,” he said, his voice dripping ice. “I won't touch you.”
Any thoughts that he might let it go dissolved, and I pulled myself upright and sat on the edge of the bed, patting the mattress beside me. “Come here.”
I looked up to see him frowning at me and sighed. “About last night, I was ... harsh. I'm sorry,” I said. “And if you think you're getting another apology out of me any time in the next three months you'll be disappointed,” I added, in case he should think I was going soft.
He snorted and shook his head. “I wouldn't dream of it.” He didn't move though.
“Come on, Lucas, what do you want? I said I'm sorry.”
There was a huff of impatience, and he looked at me with pity. “You don't get it do you?” he said, looking annoyed. “I can't help it, neither can you. It's how it feels, it should be a pleasure. You enjoy eating don't you? Why should this be any different?”
I rubbed my hand over my face, wishing I'd just accepted his wrist and kept my mouth shut. I didn't have the time or the energy for this conversation. “I don't feel the need to take a plate of roast beef to bed with me!” I snapped and then clutched at my head as it began to throb.
“Oh for the love of the gods.” He moved to bite into his wrist, and I reached out my hand to stop him.
“Lucas.” I paused and tried to find the words to explain myself to him. “You're right, it does feel good, for me too. You know it as well as I do but ...” I took a breath wishing I didn't have to spell it out. “There's only ever been Corvus. In this lifetime and the first, he was the only man I ever ...” My throat tightened and couldn't say anymore. I refused to count Dis Pater, even remembering him made me sick to my stomach.
“I know, Jéhenne.” He sounded weary, and I looked up to see sorrow in his eyes. “I know you hate the fact that it's me and not him, I get it. I do really.”
The Fires of Tartarus Page 6