by Lisa Kumar
Eamon turned his head toward her but otherwise didn’t move. With all three sets of eyes now on her, the urge to shrink away hit. The two newcomers were definitely not human, not even the old lady who could probably pass as one most times. Those eyes held too much weight. The heaviness of untold years lay there right below the human veneer. The elves had the same feel, but hers was so much more staggeringly massive that Caralyn almost gasped.
As the silence stretched on, Caralyn lost a bit of her awe and squared her shoulders. My apartment, remember. They can take this craziness elsewhere if they don’t like my questions. “Again, what’s going on?”
“They were just leaving,” Eamon ground out, looking toward the two.
“It doesn’t look like —” Caralyn began.
“May we come in?” the older lady asked Caralyn, staring directly at her.
Both the woman’s eyes and the sound of her voice caused a shiver to wind up Caralyn’s spine. While the lady’s voice seemed typical of what was normally heard in the Midwestern town of Murren, her eyes were anything but normal.
Again, that too-knowing gaze caused her to shudder. As the woman regarded Caralyn, her eyes flashed yellow for one heart-stopping second. When Caralyn blinked, though, the moment was gone, and the woman’s blue eyes stared back at her.
Was she losing her mind? But given what Eamon was, why were eyes that cycled from blue to yellow so strange? Still, how and why was this odd woman — and she was using “woman” loosely — involved in the tangled mess that was Eamon?
“Are you all right, my dear?”
The concern in the woman’s voice ripped Caralyn from her thoughts. “Uh ... yeah, I’m fine.
“I’m glad to hear that, Caralyn. May we come in?” the lady asked again.
The use of her name threw Caralyn, but the woman did feel familiar to her — as if she should be able to place where she’d met her before. “Do I know you?”
“I’m the owner of the Mists of Avalon bookstore. May we come in?”
“Oh, sure, yes,” Caralyn said, though it sounded more like a question than a response. The bookstore the lady gave was real, though Caralyn could only remember being in there once. That was probably where she’d seen the older woman. She wasn’t sure if she should let them in, but nothing would be solved if Eamon shut the door in their face. For some reason, the strong feeling that they’d offer some answers gripped her.
The lady smiled gently. “Thank you.”
“I don’t think that wise,” Eamon said, everything about his posture screaming coiled tension. As if to back up his words, he didn’t budge, and Caralyn didn’t know if she wanted him to.
The older woman apparently had other ideas. “Eamon, remove yourself from the doorway.”
His head was turned so Caralyn could easily make out his profile. An expression of disquiet stole across his face. With a frown, he stepped back and to the side.
Huh, he moved aside just like that? If only she had that kind of power over him.
The other lady looked at her, a mysterious tilt to her lips. “You will. In fact, you already have more than you both know.”
Panic swirled like a noxious poison around Caralyn. How had the woman read her mind?
When the blond elf made no effort to step through the doorway, the woman pushed him forward. Surprisingly, he moved. If possible, he appeared even less thrilled than Eamon.
As he entered the apartment, Caralyn’s unease multiplied. What hold did the woman have over these two elves to get them to do what she wanted?
The other elf was staring around the living room with a leery curiosity strangely reminiscent of Eamon’s, though the stranger’s seemed to have a violent edge to it. He looked as if he might attack something. Was he another new arrival? When she realized what that could mean, she cringed. Elves, especially unbalanced ones, being tossed into Earth willy-nilly couldn’t be a good thing.
Eamon lost no time in demanding they get down to business and pinned the woman with a glare. “You’re in. Now speak.”
“Now, is that how you treat your first guests from Eria?”
The blond elf snorted, staring with hate-filled eyes at Eamon, and then spoke in Caralyn’s presence for the first time. “Normally, he’d either betray or kill you. Going soft due to your exile?” As he talked, he never took his gaze from his adversary until he turned that penetrating stare to Caralyn. “Or are you behaving for this lovely bit of humanity here?”
While he didn’t exactly sneer while saying it, the wording still felt like an insult. That and the way he stared as if truly taking her in for the first time made her uneasy. Thank heavens her pajamas were modest, not that she would’ve worn anything else around Eamon. He definitely didn’t need any encouragement.
As for the new elf, she couldn’t make out what lurked behind his intense eyes, but he didn’t look friendly by any stretch. Still, any long-held prejudice hadn’t stopped Eamon from sleeping with her.
Eamon’s body quivered with anger, and he took a threatening step toward the other elf. “Don’t even look at her.”
“Why? We’ve shared before, whether we meant to or not.”
Even as the shock of the elf’s words hit her, the exact color of his eyes registered. Her misgivings skyrocketed like a soaring cannonball. They were the same yellow she swore the woman’s had been. Another mystery to figure out.
The woman marched up to both of them and slapped them upside the head. “I know it’s a stretch, but be gentlemen, you two,” snapped Aistiane, her gentle tone having disappeared faster than the cookies Caralyn’s mother made.
“Who are you, and what is this all about?” Caralyn gestured to the strange triad standing in her living room, upsetting her life and her nerves.
The older lady cocked her head to the side. “Oh, we’ve been remiss in introducing ourselves. Such lacking manners aren’t to be excused. I am Aistiane, and this” — she pointed to the new elf — “is Andrian.”
Like that explained much, but Caralyn supposed it was a start. Their names were as unique as Eamon’s, and it gave her belief about Aistiane not being human even more merit. Though, admittedly, she wasn’t an expert on foreign humans names. “I’d say I’m pleased to meet you, but I want to reserve judgment and prefer not to lie.”
Aistiane’s eyes twinkled. “An admirable quality.”
“I’m usually not this blunt, but this whole ... situation is wearing.”
“That’s understandable, and you’ve shown much forbearance.”
Aistiane’s words contained a deeper meaning than Caralyn was comfortable with. How did the woman know of anything she’d been through with Eamon? God, did she know what they’d done in that dressing room? Mortification flamed on her face. “I’m not sure how you’d know that, and I probably really don’t want to know.”
“Most likely,” Aistiane agreed easily. “But that can be discussed later.”
Could Caralyn just sink through the floor in a puddle of embarrassment? A bit of anger also lurked underneath her humiliation. Her private life was that — private. How could this lady be privy to so much? “What are you doing here?” Her voice was rougher than she intended, but hell, they owed her an explanation.
An apologetic smile crinkled Aistiane’s face. “I’m afraid that story goes back centuries and would take hours to explain satisfactorily. Let us just say you’ve been given a special task.”
Her stomach lurched into her throat before plummeting to her toes. “Task?” She didn’t want to become involved in something that would surely bring more craziness, if the last few days were anything to go by.
“Yes, task?” Eamon uttered darkly, holding himself in complete stillness. Caralyn wasn’t fooled, though. He was ready to spring if he perceived a threat — and he seemed all too ready to find one.
At this moment, she was tempted to agree. Maybe Aistiane and Andrian were more of one than she’d suspected.
Aistiane inclined her head toward Eamon. “Yes, indeed, but I can�
�t relay her task right now, not before yours.”
Chapter 18
“Mine?” Eamon asked softly. What was she playing at? His horrible suspicions exploded back in full force, though he tried to suppress them to the murkiest depths of his mind. If the old biddy thought he’d do anything for her, let alone that, she’d be sorely disappointed. And working with Andrian? He’d be damned to the lowest pits of hell before he did that.
Eamon squared his shoulders. “I take no orders from you.”
Aistiane’s brows rose as if she were truly surprised. “You don’t?”
“You have no power over me.” Even though he spat the words, they fell flat to his own ears. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Caralyn shift uneasily. He tried to block her out. Complete focus on Aistiane was needed, and he couldn’t do that if he watched Caralyn. Still, his gaze kept gliding toward her as if it had its own free will.
Andrian chuckled, a dark tone ringing that scratched on Eamon’s nerves. “Oh, listen to him. He thinks he has free will.”
“Shut up. I have more power and free will than you’d like,” Eamon said, casting a scathing look at both the old woman and the darkindred leader.
Andrian rocked back and forth on his heels “We’ll see about that.”
“Mad mutterings from an even madder —”
Aistiane inserted her words like a smooth butter knife. “I think you’ll find that Andrian is right.”
“What do you mean?” Eamon asked, regarding the old lady through narrowed eyes.
“You signed away much of your free will long ago.”
Ice slid down his spine. No one could control his future anymore — he wouldn’t allow it “How? I’m serving my punishment here on Earth, so that’s the only loss of choice I see.”
Aistiane stared at him a moment as if looking into his blackened soul. “The effects of the orb’s power still lingers.”
He still had some residual power left? How was that bad news? A smirk came to his lips. “Then I can throw you out and have you bother me no further.”
“I said it lingers, not that you control that which lingers.”
Her meaning sunk in and left him scowling even as a sick feeling built in his stomach. The damned orb was always going to be a stone over his head, ready to fall at any time.
“So you’re going to press that to your advantage,” he said, his snide voice raised in statement, not question. “What do you want from me?” Bitterness seeped into his soul and came out in his words.
“For you to help fix what you broke,” she said, shrugging.
He stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his tone still spiteful and hiding the uneasy fear crawling its way out of his gut and leaving his stomach clotted in knots. If his suspicions were true, why would Andrian be here? To aid him in the search while also furthering Eamon’s torment?
The old lady gave him a knowing smile. “I think you do.”
Unwittingly, his gaze slid to Caralyn. A green tinge had pasted itself across her face, and she’d crossed her arms about herself. She looked like how he felt inside — ill and disbelieving. He was afraid to even hear how her task tied into his. How could Aistiane force her into anything, though? Caralyn was an innocent in all this. He knew that with every particle of his damned self.
His mouth refused to work for a moment, but he managed to finally spit some words out. “Then why don’t you enlighten me, you interfering old —”
Suddenly, his words cut off, his mouth moving but no sound coming out.
“Ah, that’s much better,” Aistiane said with a supremely satisfied air.
He clenched his hands, wanting nothing more than to wrap them around the old woman’s neck. Aistiane couldn’t be killed, at least by no means that he knew of, so he wasn’t that stupid. She could make his life very uncomfortable — well, more so than it already was. At the end of everything, he was self-serving. Heaping more misery on himself wasn’t something he desired.
“Now, where was I?” Aistiane asked. “Oh, yes. You subverted the true purpose of the darkindred. It’s only fitting that you are the one to help guide them back on the right path.”
Though he’d been expecting her words, he wasn’t prepared for their reality. To hear them so starkly staggered something within him. All he’d fought for was lost and now this? This indignity? Helping to find human bondmatess for his people? He wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t. It went against everything he’d ever believed in.
His gaze again fell on Caralyn, again seeing the crystalline yellow light surrounding her. She stared back at him in puzzlement, clearly not knowing what Aistiane meant. Suddenly, all the pieces tumbled into place and settled like a spiky ball in his chest. The light around Caralyn, the light he’d seen around Hayden and that lady at the mall — they were signs that the humans in question were bondmatess for some unfortunate souls back in Eria. Even as he thought that, though, he couldn’t reconcile Caralyn, his Caralyn, belonging to anyone else but him. Certainly not another elf, one who could hate humans just as ardently as he did.
Hate — that was such a strong word, and the feel — the taste of it in his mouth — didn’t seem right when he thought about Caralyn. How did he view her, then? As a lover? He never thought a human would become that to him. Still, he hadn’t had a lot of choices if he’d wanted a woman, had he? The holdouts were just unpalatable and actually knew to avoid him. So why did his reasoning all fall flat when he looked at Caralyn? He might feel many things toward her, but hate sadly wasn’t one of them. Right now, he didn’t even want to think of what that could mean. All he knew was that any weakness needed to be crushed before it could crush him.
Turning his ire on Aistiane, he spat words at her that thankfully were given sound and not muzzled. “And if I don’t fall in line with your plans?”
“Well, technically, I can’t force you. The orb’s lingering power, though, will make it unlikely for you to be able to resist. As you know, it can ... press quite ruthlessly against those seeking to escape its control, especially if I will it.”
Oh, he knew only all too well. When he’d been the orb’s owner, he’d exerted dominance over the darkindred in the same way. Now to have that power turned against him ... What a bitter irony, just like his life. “You think you have all figured out, do you not?”
“Not all.” Her gaze flicked to Caralyn before honing in on him. “But more than you’d suspect — or like.”
Her cryptic words sent a strong dose of rage hurtling through him. He was powerless, and her posturing only drove that fact in further. “I won’t come easily.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
By God, he wanted to tear her to pieces. Not too long ago, he would've been bold enough to try but not anymore. Now he was as neutered as Caralyn's dog. “I suppose the darkindred” — he glared at Andrian — “is here to spy on me.”
“I don’t really need spies, but he’ll help keep you in line.”
Andrian threw him a smug look, but Aistiane continued on. “And you him.”
The conceited expression on Andrian’s face evaporated, and Eamon let a small smirk slip. After all, he had to take comfort where he could. “So we’re to police each other?”
“Neither of you are ready to be unleashed on humanity.”
He couldn’t deny that fact. “And your solution is that we work together? How could that possibly be a good idea?” Eamon pointed to Andrian. “We both want each other dead. You agreed to this, darkindred?”
Andrian aimed a dark glare his way before staring at a seemingly blank spot on the wall. “I told her the same thing. Don’t look so smug — this is the only thing I’m sure we’ll ever agree upon.” He visibly bristled, glancing at Eamon again. “And if you call me darkindred again, it’ll be the last word you’ll ever utter.”
Eamon nearly laughed. Andrian appeared more insane by the minute. Though it could be somewhat disturbing at times, right now he found it amusing. “Really? I’d like t
o see you try. What am I supposed to call you, anyway?”
“My people have now renamed ourselves the graykindred. We are no longer vehicles of evil, death, and destruction, but we also have much to heal from and atone for.” He shot out the last part as if it were all Eamon’s fault.
Though Eamon showed no outward reaction to Andrian’s words, something that felt like a pang radiated outward from his chest. Guilt? But how could it be? He’d never before had many regrets about subverting the darkindred to his own uses. At the time doing so had seemed the best course of action. Even his father agreed about its necessity, which, truthfully, should’ve been Eamon’s first warning sign. He’d long since learned that anything his father was eager about should best be avoided. It’d been a hard-won lesson.
Unfortunately, he’d been a young elf striving for the ever-elusive approval of his father. Now, he knew better than to think he could’ve ever earned even a smidgeon of it. How could one receive something that was non-existent? The only elf he knew who was colder than he himself was his father, Baltor. That was very telling in and of itself. No wonder the darkindred, especially the newly converted ones, had been little better than animals since they had their basis in Eamon’s hate and his father’s machinations.
Since then, he’d lived to please himself, but like a bloodsucking leech, his father couldn’t be shaken off. No, he’d held all kinds of blackmail over him.
But no more.
Still, it seemed he’d traded one type of prison for another. Would his yoke under others never cease? He could see it stretching on into eternity.
Aware he had lapsed into silence for too long, he found Caralyn staring at him in concern while Andrian watched him with a mad glint in his eye that Eamon didn’t like in the least. He inclined his head stiffly toward Andrian. “Fine, dar — graykindred.” His slip was purposeful, and when a thunderstorm brewed upon Andrian’s face, a perverse satisfaction hit Eamon.
With halting steps, Caralyn stepped forward before Andrian could speak. She wrung her hands before a resolute look flashed across her face. “Not to end this love fest, but what does this all have to do with me?”