“I can work around it. I’ll get Vincenzo.”
“I’ll distract Yangzei.” His hand brushed her, causing a beautiful warmth to blossom through her.
There was no time to dwell on that. Before Yangzei could sense her intentions, she jumped out and grabbed Vincenzo’s leg with her good hand, yanking so hard his entire body fell off the table in an ungainly lump. Yangzei roared with an inarticulate rage that was cut off when Stephan tackled his legs. The two went down in a thrashing heap.
Isindle pawed through the piles of paper on the ground, tossing them aside as she hunted for the spell. Estelle hesitated. She couldn’t risk Vincenzo becoming a resource for Yangzei again but to kill him would be to end any possibility of using the spell to banish that demon forever.
What would Cressida do?
“I found it!” Isindle’s cry was triumphant. She threw herself on Vincenzo and began to chant, her voice filling the room as the fey spell flowed around them like cool silver. To the right, Stephan and Yangzei broke apart, both panting and with eyes wild with hope or fury.
The spell rose to a crescendo. Isindle’s eyes screwed shut. She kept one hand on Vincenzo’s chest as she lifted the other in the air, as though she was a lightning rod for the power to come. Her voice became hoarse and then…it was done.
Isindle collapsed over Vincenzo’s body as Estelle stared with disbelief.
Was it done? They’d won.
Then white fire burned her injured arm as Yangzei had pushed her aside, his mere touch as intense as a torch. He was back to Vincenzo, ready to rip the final shreds of power from the vampire’s body.
The masquerada Ancient had survived.
“Vincenzo was too weak,” called Isindle. Tears ran down her face. “I need more, the strength of many. We are too few here.”
Many? Estelle turned to face Stephan and saw he’d made the same connection as she had. Many arcana. A multitude.
Vincenzo pawed at her mind. I can no longer fight him. He’s strong and he has too much of me. And…I want to be with my Lucia, seneschal. I am lost to this world.
Estelle could barely focus. Stephan—could he use the multitude to banish Yangzei? Perhaps, but at what cost? Would they take him over, remove that control he cherished more dearly than life?
But he wouldn’t die, would he? He’d be unhappy, but it would be for the better good.
What would Cressida do?
Sound fell away as Estelle gazed around her. Isindle: mid-stride to the table, spell clutched in her blood-smeared hand for another desperate attempt. Vincenzo, her secret friend, dying on the floor with a gentle smile. Yangzei, already lit from within.
And on the side, Stephan, his face twisted in a grimace that showed his internal fight.
She could force him to do it, the same as she had in Cancun. It would be child’s play to go into his mind and crack it open to allow the multitude out. Isindle would take his hand and they would say the spell, a hundred, a thousand voices at once. Yangzei would disappear in a puff of smoke.
The Stephan she knew—what would happen to him?
Cressida would consider that collateral damage. She wouldn’t hesitate the way Estelle did, watching the horror unfold in front of her as if she was a mere observer, hoping that by making no choice the situation would magically unfold to her benefit.
No choice is a choice, Vincenzo said. I’m dying, seneschal.
I didn’t protect you.
No. He sounded philosophical. Yet what life is this, lying here alone? My Lucia is gone and she is calling to me. She’s free now. We didn’t know what existed past that barrier. Now I will join her.
There was only one thing she could do. Stephan caught her look and closed his eyes. With a quick motion, she caressed his mind. The arcana trapped there were ready to help, but over that was Stephan’s hatred for Yangzei and resignation to what she was going to do.
She gave him the mental equivalent of a kiss, hoping that he would accept this small, final intrusion.
Her choice was made.
She was not Cressida.
Vincenzo. I need your help.
* * * *
I love you. It was Estelle’s final message and he didn’t even understand it at first. He’d known from the beginning what she was going to do. How could she not? This was the opportunity to rid the world of Yangzei—she couldn’t not do that, not even to keep the promise she’d made him. He couldn’t find it in his heart to blame her. Or he wouldn’t, had his heart not been broken.
Then the contact between them split savagely, as if she’d slammed down a steel curtain. Estelle pulled Vincenzo back on the table and grabbed Yangzei’s hand in her own uninjured one to slap it on her temple. She lay flat on Vincenzo and the blue sleeves fell back as he lifted his arms to clasp her tightly.
They both began to shake.
Isindle was there, trying to tear Estelle away. “Help me!” she screamed. “They’re trying to take back some of Yangzei’s power, to weaken him. It’s not working. They’re dying. Both of them are dying.”
* * * *
The multitude that had always been at the back of his mind murmured their anguish, now tempered with…was it hope?
Estelle needed him.
This time, for the first time, he welcomed them, and listened.
He reached his hand out to Isindle, who understood immediately.
The room rang with voices. Young, old, speaking in French, Creole, Latin. Men and women. With a long wail, Yangzei broke contact with Estelle, holding his hands to his ears as the words echoed, each one with the power of the sacred spell. Stephan released the control he’d held on to for so long and let the rage and pain mingle with the many joys.
His brother’s smile.
The children making mud figures.
Sweetbreads and cold wine.
Selene, her hands stained with rich black soil.
Eric’s hand on his shoulder.
Behind it all, Estelle. Always Estelle.
Yangzei stiffened as Estelle’s arms fell lifeless over the side of the table like a puppet whose master loosened the strings.
Then—the voices were gone.
Chapter 38
“I said I was sorry.” Raoul slammed his hand against the plastic screen that separated them. “I don’t belong here. I was trying to help.”
Felix and Estelle exchanged a tired look. Raoul had been taken into custody right after the events in the Ancients’ crypt, and had by turns been apologetic and belligerent. He insisted he had no idea what Yangzei was planning and had denied ever saying that people were in place. Those people had been found—more vulnerable kidnapped arcana who had been imprisoned on a base in Montana—and Agata was processing them and returning them to their families.
She was also working on an initiative to make sure all arcana worked to make sure all arcana took better care of their people. She’d been shocked at the number of lithu in the mix.
“The elders were against this plan,” she’d said when she came back from a home visit. “I had to convince them.”
Estelle had repressed a grin. She could imagine how that conversation had gone.
Felix leaned over and whispered in her ear. “We’re not going to get more from him.”
She nodded. Raoul had informed against Lady Nadia, finally providing Estelle with the proof she needed to make a treason charge stick. Even at her trial, the old woman had surveyed the courtroom with her empty eye sockets and refused to say a word, haughty to the end. The trial had been hard, as both her parents insisted Lady Nadia was only misguided. “She thought she was doing the right thing,” bleated Helene. “She’s from a different time. You can’t expect her to—”
For the first time in her life, Estelle had ended the conversation. “To obey the queen? To not work with our enemies? To not try to kill your own daughte
r? I do expect that.”
Felix had congratulated her when she told him the story, then said, “Did I tell you I’m moving out?”
She’d laughed. “Maman won’t like that.”
“Too bad. Wavena offered me a role helping train the people we’ve identified as psychic sensitives. I accepted.”
“I’m glad.” Felix’s blossoming psychic ability left people awestruck. With his help, they’d managed to track down every Dawning facility. Once she’d seen how Felix had matured, Wavena had eventually offered him increasing responsibilities working with Agata. They were a good team, thought Estelle. Which was good since they were impossible to separate.
Now, back outside in the Florida sun, Estelle waved at Stephan, waiting for her in the car. “Need a ride?” she asked Felix.
He shook his head. “I need to walk for a bit. Seeing Raoul…it burns a bit.”
One of the things Raoul had admitted was being the one to help the Dawning take Felix to Cancun. Apparently, after the meeting, he’d been in touch with them, eager to join their organization. Delia, who had recognized Felix as a prime candidate for Yangzei’s transference plan, had taken Raoul up on his offer to help.
Estelle gave him a hug and climbed in the car. Stephan looked over with a raised eyebrow. “Never thought I’d see that.”
“It’s a little strange, but we’re getting along. We made a pact never to be together with our parents, at least for the next decade.” The distance was helping them break out of their ruts.
“Good.” He smiled. Over the last several weeks, Stephan had smiled more easily and some of the tightness around his face had disappeared. She hadn’t realized how ingrained it had been in him until it started to fade. Not that it would ever truly go—pain such as what he had endured could never be erased—but he was more relaxed.
They drove quietly to the shed in the forest. Lucia and Vincenzo had been cremated and their ashes returned to Italy, where they were mixed together and dropped into the Mediterranean. The eastern queens had attended and Wavena had reported that they’d had some good talks. It was a start.
Estelle had ordered the destruction of the shed where they’d been housed, but at the last minute decided to make a final visit. Stephan handed her two bouquets, beautiful tropical blooms dripping with color and fragrance, and she led the way down the stairs to the crypt. The outer room had the same doctor’s office vibe.
Stephan gave her a gentle kiss on the top of her head before taking a seat. “I’ll wait here.”
Cleaning crews had removed the chaos and the stains, so the place was spotless. The biers where the Ancients had lain for so long remained in place. Estelle walked slowly to Lucia’s space, kissed the flowers and put them down.
Then she turned to Vincenzo’s bier. “I miss you,” she said simply.
She waited for a moment, wondering if he would, if he could, respond. When no one did, she laid the flowers down and went back out to Stephan.
* * * *
Stephan thanked the server for the margarita. Estelle clinked her glass against his and a hunk of pineapple fell from one drink to the other.
“That’s good luck,” she said.
“You’re making that up.” He looked out the window to the dark night beyond. Toronto was no Cancun, but they’d been too busy mopping up what was left of the Dawning to take a real vacation.
“How’s Tom?” she asked, licking some salt off the rim of her glass.
“Much better. Recovery is slow, but Cynthia is feeding him up and Mai can barely keep from checking on him every hour to see if he’s there.”
“Can he remember what happened?”
“Nothing. Tom says that it was like being asleep. He occasionally recalled strange images or thoughts, but nothing more. We’re keeping an eye on him in case he maintained a connection with Yangzei.”
There was a long pause and then Stephan decided that it was now or never. They hadn’t spoken about the time in the crypt.
“In the crypt, you touched my mind.”
She stared at the table. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. You made a choice that nearly killed you because I was being stubborn. I’m the one to apologize.”
“Thank you.” It was only two words, but he heard the thousands left unsaid behind them. She frowned. “Do you hear the multitude?”
“Never.” He hoped they were free now.
“Do you miss them?” she asked curiously.
“I thought I’d be grateful when they were gone, but yeah. It’s been an adjustment.” The world was a much quieter place without them. But, it was easier to sleep so worth the trade-off. She reached across the table and took hold of his hands. They were cool from the glass she’d been holding but they warmed Stephan’s soul. “I love you,” she said.
He’d felt it with the touch of her mind in the crypt, but hearing her say it was like being given every present in the world.
Of course, that was the exact moment the waiter came to put down a plate of tortillas and top up the water. Estelle didn’t take her eyes off Stephan.
When they were alone, Stephan said, “Good.”
“Good? That’s it?”
“Yes, good. Because I love you. I’m more sure of this than anything in this long life. I want to be with you. Also, you owe me dinner.”
She hesitated then laughed when she remembered. “In Paris.”
“I’ve asked for my ambassador role back,” he said.
“We could live in Florida.” She smiled. “I have that house, after all.”
He glanced out the window. “Well. Definitely for the winter.”
Then he leaned over the table, spilling the hot sauce, and kissed her.
Meet the Author
Alana Delacroix lives in a little house filled with books in Toronto, Canada. She loves exploring the city, on the hunt for both the perfect coffeeshop as well as ideal locations to set her paranormal romances. A member of RWA, Alana worked as an archaeologist before forging a slightly more stable career in corporate communications.
You can follow her at @AlanaDelacroix or learn more at alanadelacroix.com
The Masked Arcana series
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MASKED DESIRE
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Eric has never met anyone like Caro, with her lightning wit and uncanny insight. But desirable as she is, he’d be a fool to let her near. Struggling to hide the sudden loss of his powers, Eric can’t risk becoming entangled with a woman who scorns her supernatural side and claims not to play politics. The enemies on her trail are strong, clever, and vicious. And when they force Eric and Caro together, the fallout could shatter far more than two hearts . . .
MASKED POSSESSION
A PERFECT DISGUISE
As security chief of the supernaturals’ ruling council, Michaela Chui has seen more than her fair share of disaster. For centuries, she’s survived through caution and strategy. But when the only human councilor is viciously murdered, Michaela knows the coincidences that keep blocking her investigation are a sure sign of bad things to come. She needs answers fast. And her only ally is Cormac Redoak: wild, unpredictable,
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A HIDDEN TRUTH
An exile from the court of the Fairy Queen, Cormac has all the experience with careful strategy and veiled intentions he can stand. But he also has the fey talent for getting his way, and he’s sure his way lies with Michaela’s. No matter that she can change her lovely face at will; there’s a clarity to her being that he’d know anywhere. Working with her will be temptation and frustration bound together. Somehow, though, he must convince her to trust him—without revealing the secrets he dares never share . . .
Masked Longing Page 29