Chapter 7
“Grieve!” I closed my
eyes as he embraced me, his lips covering mine, his tongue parting
them as he pulled me ever tighter. His hands raced across my back,
my ass, my hair, as he held me against him. I pushed him back,
cupping his face in my hands, searching for some sense that things
were okay again. But the wild streak in his eyes frightened
me.
“I couldn’t stay
away. I sensed you in the woods; I had to be near you. I needed
you,” he panted, trying to hide from the daylight, and my wolf
whimpered in pain. “I can’t stand this. I can’t stand being apart
from you, but she forces me. She controls me, Cicely—and she’ll
kill me if she finds out I’m here with you. But I’d rather be dead
than call her my consort.”
He was broken. I
could see it in his eyes. Myst had broken him. Or at least she was
making a good attempt.
“Hold strong, don’t
let her win. I won’t let her have you. Can’t you break free and
come with me? We can lock you in the basement during the day. I can
. . .” And then it hit me. Lainule and Geoffrey were working on an
antidote. I could get hold of it somehow. I could save Grieve. I
could take away his rage at—and inability to withstand—the light.
If it worked. Then it would be easier
to get him out of Myst’s clutches. “I may be able to help
you.”
“My lovely Cicely,
you have a death wish, don’t you?” His eyes were cunning, but
behind them his love stirred. I could feel it wash over me: his
longing, his desire, his hunger. I leaned toward him and he wrapped
me in his arms again, lingering against my lips with his own,
plying them with his tongue.
“Let me drink from
you. You give me strength. You give me hope. You are my all, Cicely
Waters. You are the only reason I have to live.” And he dipped his
head toward my neck. “You’re shaking,” he whispered.
How could I tell him
that he terrified me? That I feared him as much as I loved him? I
swallowed my fear and looked into his eyes at the emotions waging
war within him. The clash of tension, the clash of swords, the
desire to hunt and the desire to love, all played out across his
face, and all I wanted to do was hold him tight and wipe away the
pain.
“Grieve . . . will
she know? If you drink from me?”
He shook his head.
“She is not all-powerful, though she is a force and fury. She is
cruel, and vicious, and I’m terrified I’ll become like her. I can
feel myself shifting, every moment I’m with her. She is the
corrupter, the Snow Queen with the heart of ice. And she means for
me to be her king.” His hands shifted and he leaned down again.
“May I drink? It will help me keep my sanity—for a little while
longer.”
“Cicely, get away
from him.” Chatter’s voice echoed through the snow and I glanced
over at him. “Let her go, Grieve. If you truly love her, let her
go.”
Grieve stared at
Chatter for a moment, snarling. “You would become a turncoat on me,
too? You would forsake the one who saved your worthless life?” His
voice was harsh and cruel.
I struggled against
him as his hold changed on me. He laughed. “Cicely, my own little
Cicely. Oh, Myst would have such fun playing with
you.”
“Grieve, no—please.
Please, hear me with your heart, not with the haze of her madness.”
I reached up, stroked his face, forced him to look me in the eye.
He quieted then, and again my wolf whimpered in pain, making me
want to weep.
Ulean swept around
me. He is dangerous, like a wounded animal.
Use caution, Cicely. Do not provoke him.
But he let out a
shuddering breath and hung his head. “Chatter is right. I’m
dangerous. If I drank from you now, I don’t know if I could
stop.”
I shook my head,
running my fingers through the platinum locks that cascaded down
his back. “You will not hurt me,
Grieve. Our love runs through lifetimes. Remember . . . remember
that. You and I were together before, and we’ll be together again.
We are soul mates, stronger together than apart.”
And then . . . flash
. . .
Grieve and I were standing there, together, on a mountain,
scanning the vegetation below. Only he was Shy, not Grieve. “Can
you see them? Are they coming?”
I shaded my eyes and searched the area. “I think so, but
we are far enough away. We routed them, my love. We tore them to
pieces.”
He flinched. “You tore them to
pieces. I still can’t fathom your fury, Cherish. But we are free
from the chase for at least a little while. My mother will never
rest until you are dead . . . and me. I am a traitor to my people,
because of you. But I choose you—it has always been you. Only
you.”
And my heart swelled, as tears began to run down my
cheeks. I dropped to my knees. “And you, my love. Only, always you.
Traitors . . . we both bear the label. My mother will torture me in
front of our people, if she catches me. I have dishonored her. But
I am not like my people . . . at least not without
reason.”
The memory of the guards, dismembered, bloody to the bone,
tasting sweet in my mouth, filled my body, and I murmured a gentle
moan. Their flesh was tender between my teeth, their blood still
staining my lips. I’d taught them a harsh lesson about interfering
with me.
Grieve-who-was-Shy knelt down and gathered me into his
arms and slowly kissed me, long and deep, and the taste of blood
mingled with the taste of his gentle breath. I slid my legs around
his waist and he entered me, rocking gently against the mossy
ground, as we mated. The sky shone crimson and yellow overhead, the
sun high in the sky, and the feel of him on me, deep inside me,
swallowed my anger.
“I will be with you forever, Cherish. We are fated
together. No one else will ever measure up. You are my soul mate
and we will never let them take us alive.”
“We’ll escape. Somehow we’ll escape and go to a place
where our union is not forbidden. Now, take me. Love me,” I
whispered. “Make me forget who I am. Who my people are. Who
my mother is.” And he
did.
Grieve shuddered in
my arms, then inhaled a deep breath and gently pressed his lips
against mine. “We are soul mates,” he murmured. “Together forever.”
And then he dipped his lips to my neck and lightly nipped the skin,
quietly lapping the blood that began to flow.
The pain was
exquisite, and I flowed into his pleasure as my wolf let out a high
pitched yip of joy. I wanted to lay him down, to straddle him in
the snow, to feel him deep inside me, but this was not the place or
the time. And Grieve seemed to sense it.
He voluntarily lifted
his head, his eyes gleaming black, filled with stars. “You are
mine, Cicely Waters. And your blood will sustain me. I can resist
her, for a while longer. You are mine.”
“I am yours,” I
whispered. “Keep her at bay, speak not to her, avoid Myst at all
costs. And I will come for you—I promise, I will find a
way.”
“Do not make promises
you can’t keep, my sweet.” And then he turned, and like a ghost he
was gone through the woods. And my wolf bayed in the waning
light.
“We have to go.”
Chatter was looking pissed out of his mind, but he said nothing.
Peyton just glanced at me as we hurried through the snow, over the
snowbank. She put in a call to Rhiannon, and after a couple of
minutes, her car came rolling up the road and we scrambled in,
exhausted and bone-weary.
“Did you make it to
the Court of Dreams?” She sounded frantic.
“What happened? I can
tell something happened. And yes, we did. I have the spell to help
Kaylin.”
“Thank gods—I was
afraid Myst might have caught you. You were gone two days.” She
flashed me a worried smile. “Last night, a group of vampires and a
group of Myst’s hunters got into a rumble downtown. It was bad,
Cicely—very bad. Several of the townsfolk were nearby and there
were deaths.”
“Holy crap. How many
dead on each side?” I didn’t want to know, but it was like taking
off a Band-Aid; better to just rip it off quickly.
“Three vamps, two
Shadow Hunters, and five passersby. Including two police officers
who didn’t know enough to stay out of it.” She sobered. “It was
pure carnage down there. A bloodbath.” After a pause, she added,
“Oh, and Lannan’s furious—he’s been looking for you.”
“Oh wonderful. Just
what I need.” The thought that Lannan was looking for me made me
feel as cozy as a bed of nails. It wasn’t time for my tithe, so
whatever the hell he wanted had to be some other plan his perverted
mind had come up with. “I guess I have to tell them about our
trip.”
“All of it.” Chatter’s voice was somber as he leaned
forward. “Grieve was out in the woods, waiting for Cicely on our
way home.”
Rhiannon jerked her
head toward me, then back at the road as we swerved on black ice.
“Grieve? Oh, Cicely.”
“We’re linked . . .”
I shook my head and stared at my hands. “I have to save him, Rhia.
I can’t leave him to Myst— he hates what he’s becoming. I can’t let
him turn into a monster. And he will, if we don’t get him away from
her.” I suddenly stopped, angry that I had to defend myself against
my family as well as the vampires and Lainule. “I love him. I know
it’s risky, but I love him. If you can’t handle it, I’ll move. I’ll
find another place where I don’t put you in danger.”
“Stop this.” Peyton’s
voice came from the backseat and she leaned up, nudging Chatter out
of the way. “The both of you, stop it. Grieve and Cicely are what
they are and there’s nothing we can do to change it—or change them.
They will go on seeking each other out because they bound
themselves together on a level far deeper than a promise. So we
have to deal with it. Even if Grieve spills that he saw Cicely,
what’s he going to tell Myst? That we were out in the woods?
Big fucking deal. They don’t know
what we were doing. So might I suggest
we go home and concentrate on helping Kaylin?”
Rhiannon blinked but
nodded. “You have a point.”
Chatter fell back
against the seat, his arms crossed, looking mournful. “Grieve will
never give up. He’s always gotten what he wants, and he wants to be
with Cicely. I still think she’s in grave danger.”
“We’re all in grave
danger,” I said, ending the conversation. “There’s nothing in this
world that’s safe for us now.” And that finished that.
At home, Leo was
stewing. “I can’t believe you took off like that without telling
me. Geoffrey was asking where the hell you were—and so was Lannan.”
He was in my face, making me angry.
I poked him in the
chest. Hard. “The vampires may own me, but they do not spend every
moment of my waking day telling me what I can and cannot do. Kaylin
needed help. You were off somewhere, busy. You weren’t any help.
But most of all, you need to remember that I don’t play by your
rules, nor are you my big brother or uncle or father. So chill out,
dude.”
Leo looked about
ready to blow, but I skirted him and went up to the room Kaylin had
claimed for his own. He preferred the attic, which was a
comfortable nook. I knelt beside him and took out the
fetish.
“Kaylin? Can you hear
me? We’re going to bring you out of it—we’re going to help you.” I
looked up, motioning to Rhiannon. I was exhausted, but the shaman
had warned me that we had very little time in which to perform the
ritual; that Kaylin would retreat further into his mind if we
didn’t rescue him and wake his night-veil demon soon.
“What do you need?
And are you sure we should do this now? You look absolutely out of
it.” She pressed her lips together, a worried expression on her
face.
“We have to. Can you
bring me a sandwich first? Then we need a pound of sea salt, enough
belladonna to ring the circle, and a dozen quartz spikes that are
at least two inches long each.”
I slumped on the
floor beside Kaylin’s bed, wanting nothing more than to drag myself
to my room, crawl into bed, and crash for a week, but it wasn’t
going to happen. As I leaned back against his bed and rested my
head on the mattress, closing my eyes, all I could see was a swirl
of colors. I let them play out, following them on the screen of my
closed eyelids, as they whirled and dipped. Red, green . . . a
splash of yellow . . . and then they began to take
form.
A creature, winged
and fierce, appeared out of the sparkles, and it homed in on me,
flooding me with panic. I wanted to move, but I couldn’t, and it
latched hold to my shirt and began dragging itself up, its claws
holding tight to the material. I couldn’t open my eyes but I could
see it nonetheless, and I knew it was headed toward my face—and
toward my mind.
What are you doing? What do you want? Who are you, Cicely
Waters? Do you remember who you were?
The words flooded my
mind and I stammered, trying to answer, but I didn’t understand the
questions. Who are you? What are you doing to
me?
Are you prepared to unleash me? Are you ready to accept
the consequences for what you’re about to do? And then it
was face to face with me, and it leaned close. All I could see were
flashes of light everywhere.
Ulean! Help me! What is this thing? I can’t break
free. I was struggling, trying to disconnect from its
energy, trying to shake it off. But it had hold of me on a psychic
level.
And then, as Ulean
swept into the room and rattled the door and shook the pictures on
the wall, the creature let go and moved off. I opened my eyes,
trying to catch my breath. As I looked down, the front of my shirt
was rumpled and I knew I hadn’t been dreaming.
What was that?
I believe it was a manifestation of Kaylin’s
demon.
Do you think I’m doing the right thing,
Ulean?
I believe you have no choice. There are murmurs on the
wind. Kaylin must live. We need him. And she would say no
more.
Rhiannon brought me a
ham-and-cheese sandwich, and she also handed me an energy drink,
which I slammed down. I wolfed down the food, and then, as she and
Leo—who was still simmering—brought in the ritual items, I went
into my room and changed into a loose gown. Nightgowns were fine
for ritual, and I needed to get out of my clothes. I held up the
fetish, staring at the image of the creature. Sure enough, it was
the same thing I’d seen in Kaylin’s room. A night-veil
demon.
I closed my fist
around the figurine and brushed my hair back, slipping a headband
on to hold it back. Picking up my stiletto dagger, I double-checked
to make sure I was wearing my moonstone pendant. Then, I returned
to Kaylin’s bedroom.
“Help me get him in
position. He needs to be on his back, arms out at his sides, legs
not touching one another, naked.” We stripped him, and I stopped
when we pulled off the loose kimono that Leo and Rhiannon had
dressed him in. He was toned, muscled but not muscle-bound. I
automatically scanned his body and I found myself wondering what it
would be like to touch that smooth, inviting skin . . . to feel him
touch me.
My wolf growled and I
gasped, pressing my hand to my stomach. Never
worry, Grieve . . . I might like to look, but you know you are my
only love, my soul mate and lover. The wolf settled down but
felt restless and antsy. And I . . . I wondered once again where
this was all leading, and how I could possibly save Grieve when I
wasn’t even sure I could save myself.
I motioned for all of
them to leave. “I need one of you—Chatter, will you stay?
Otherwise, the more people there are, the more it will complicate
the ritual.”
As Leo, Rhiannon, and
Peyton filed out—the first looking ready to revolt—I shut the door
and turned to Chatter. “You need to have my back. I have to release
the demon but keep it contained within him. The only way I can do
that is to struggle with it and break the fetish against his heart
once it fully wakes. The shaman gave me its name, and with that I
can control the creature, but it will try to attack
me.”
“I thought it was
already part of him,” Chatter said.
“So did I, but
apparently what happened was that as it merged with his DNA and
died, it left behind a hatchling. And it’s ready to
hatch.”
“Ah.” Chatter nodded.
He looked like he wanted to say something else.
“What is it? And
don’t say ‘nothing.’ You’re upset about Grieve.”
“You should not count
on him. I love him perhaps more than you—he’s like a brother to me,
but I’m practical. Grieve belongs to Myst, and Myst won’t take
lightly to anybody tampering with her toys.”
I let out a short
sigh. “No offense, but I don’t give a fuck what you—or Leo—or
Rhiannon thinks. You know that Grieve and I’ve been together
before, in another life. I was part of the Indigo Court, he was
Cambyra Fae. We were in love and we were hunted down and we bound
our souls together before we killed ourselves. We’re here to even
the score, we’re here to find each other. I
will not lose him again, do you understand?”
Chatter’s eyes
flashed and he leaned in—the closest to angry I’d ever seen him.
“Of course, I know perfectly well that you were together before. I
was there. I am as much a part of this
whole mess as you are.”
I didn’t want to look
at him. I knew what he was talking about but hadn’t yet admitted it
to myself. I didn’t want to think about the truth—it was too raw;
it made me too angry. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“One of us has to say
it—and you have to accept it. You were Myst’s daughter and both you
and I know that she’s out to destroy you for betraying her! Grieve
is her bait—she doesn’t want him, she wants you. If you go charging in, she’s just going to
capture you. That’s why she’s keeping him. You can’t really think
she loves him. She loves no one.” He leaned back, arms
crossed.
I stared at him as
his words ricocheted through the room. “No, no—I was part of the
Indigo Court but I was never her daughter! You lie!” But my protest
was weak. He was telling the truth. I’d known since my first
flashback a week or so ago, but I hadn’t wanted to admit it to
myself. “I can’t face being Myst’s daughter. She isn’t my mother.
Krystal is . . . was . . .”
He was on the floor
by my side in the blink of an eye, gathering me into his arms. I
leaned against his body, closing my eyes as he murmured an
apology.
“Oh, Cicely, of
course you aren’t—not this time around. But before, when you were
with Grieve, you were Myst’s daughter, destined to take the throne
in the future when she died. You defied her . . . you ran . . . you
dared to love one of the enemy. You have to accept that part of
yourself if you hope to beat her this time.”
“You were there.
Which side were you on?”
“I was Shy’s brother.
Don’t you remember?” His words hit like a sledgehammer, and I
started to cry.
“No, no . . .” But
the room started to fall away, and I went spiraling into the
past.
Grieve and I were standing there, only he was Shy and I
was Cherish, and now I could see myself for who I was—Myst’s
daughter. We were poised, waiting as the first front of those
hunting for us came up the slope. Shy turned to me and blinked, his
long lashes dusted with a lazy skiff of pollen from the deep grass
in which we’d been lying. We were in Summer’s land, and the Queen
was hunting for us. Or rather, her servants
were.
“Stop!” A man who looked very much like Shy stepped to the
forefront. He carried a long, razor-edged silverplated dagger and
was wearing the armor of the knights of Summer. “In the name of
Lainule, I command you to stop. Shy, return to us now, for
punishment. The girl may go if she departs our lands and never
returns.”
Shy glanced at me, and I could tell he was nervous. “You
have a chance to survive. If they take me home, I’ll be punished
for treason. But you—my Cherish, my love, you can
escape.”
I stared at him, my heart racing. “Surely you jest. Leave
you to them? Leave you to death? Never. We fight together and if
necessary, we die together.”
“But love, they’ll crucify you if you fight and falter.”
His eyes were wet, and he looked so forlorn that I wished once
again we’d never met. It had been instant attraction, a deep and
abiding need to be together that burned its way through my heart.
Through his, too.
“Then let them do their worst. I will not leave you.” I
paused, resisting the urge to just go barreling into the fray with
teeth sharp and jaws unhinged. I could mow down a good five or six
of them before they had a chance to blink. But I was trying to
resist instinct, trying to use reason.
There was one other factor to think about. “He’s your
brother,” I said slowly. “Can you resist him? Do you want to? If
you truly wish me to go, I will.”
Shy bit his lip, glancing from his brother back to me,
then back to his brother again. He pressed his lips shut, pulling
me to him. “I cannot give you up. Not now. Not ever. We belong
together, and if they can’t see that . . .”
We turned, facing his brother, who was leading the band of
warriors, and steeled ourselves for the attack. Shy’s brother
caught my gaze. I readied myself. And when they charged, he fell
first under my attack . . . and the bloodlust raged, and soon, the
field was soaked in their life force as Shy and I stood triumphant,
with tears falling, unwilling victors against a force that would
destroy our love.
“No . . . Chatter—I
would never hurt you—”
“Sshh . . . but you
did, Cicely. Or rather, Cherish did. And Shy was not innocent in
the act.” He gently stroked my forehead, then my face, searching my
eyes with a terrified look. “Please don’t hate me for forcing you
to remember. But you have to know the truth—you have to have all of
the information you can in order to make clear
decisions.”
I blankly shook my
head. “I don’t hate you. How could I hate you, Chatter? But . . .
she knows, she really does know that I was her daughter. That’s why
Myst is out to destroy me as much as she’s out to destroy Geoffrey,
isn’t she?”
“She’ll hurt you in
any way she can. And she knows Grieve was your lover back then—how
best to hurt you except to steal him away and turn him into the
monster you were supposed to become?”
He tightened his embrace. “Grieve did his best to deflect her from
you, and I think even now he tries. But the more you and he
connect, the more arsenal she has.”
I gazed up into his
face. He was so like Grieve and yet so unlike him. “What are you,
Chatter? I know you’re Cambyra like Grieve . . . like . . . me . .
. so what are you? What kind of shifter?”
He let out a long
sigh. “I do not shift into animal form like you and Grieve. My
powers are different. I can’t show you here.”
“How come?” I was
beginning to relax into a drowsy state in his arms. It was almost
as if Grieve were holding me, without the intense pressure between
us.
Chatter leaned close
and whispered in my ear. “Because I turn into a pillar of fire. I’m
deadly, Cicely—when I change, I have no control over my actions.
Fire lives to burn, and when I transform, all I want is to
consume.”
That broke the spell.
I jerked my head up to stare at him. “Fire? Is that why you are so
pulled to Rhiannon?”
He blinked. “You can
tell?”
“I can tell a mile
away that you’ve got it bad for her.”
“No,” he said softly.
“You misunderstand. I’m pulled to her flame—it sings within my own
heart. But Miss Rhiannon, she is a gentle soul and I would never
intrude on her relationship.”
You’re lying to yourself, I thought, but said
nothing. Instead, I let his information settle. Chatter, who seemed
so quiet and unassuming, turned into a raging inferno.
“When was the last
time you transformed?”
“Years ago. I started
a wildfire and burned one of my friends. Grieve, actually. It was
long before you were born, and I meant no harm, but it hurt him for
a long time. I swore then I’d never take a chance on hurting
someone else I cared about. But it’s not the same as Rhiannon
repressing her powers. When the magic-born do not practice their
magic, it backs up in them, and eventually it will implode. With
the Cambyra, it’s not as much pressure.” He sucked in a long
breath, then let it out. “Don’t tell her—please. And don’t tell
Leo.”
“Leo wouldn’t like
the connection.” I frowned.
“No, he
wouldn’t.”
I let out a long
sigh. “We’d better get this done. Thank you—for everything. I’ll
think about what you said, but . . .” As I stood, it was all I
could do to shrug. Nothing could make me give up
Grieve.
Chatter nodded, his
eyes dark and glowing. “You will do as you see fit. But Cicely,
Myst will use anything against you she can. You were her blood. And
you betrayed her.”
“And she remembers .
. . even if I don’t.” I shrugged off the weight of his words and
turned to Kaylin. “We need to start the ritual. Are you ready to
start?”
He nodded. I
explained what we needed to do and we began to forge the magical
circle of salt, then belladonna and lastly, the quartz. I crawled
on the bed and straddled Kaylin’s naked body, feeling
inappropriate, and yet something within me stirred as I sank down,
sitting on his stomach.
Slowly I began to
chant.
Demon waken, demon dreams,
demon days, demon wings,
night-veil, creature of shade,
wake to your host, fulfill the pact you made.
Chatter stood beside
me, his voice weaving with mine, providing a countertonal response.
Surprised, I glanced at him—he had an excellent voice and could
have easily been a professional singer.
Waken to life, waken to death,
Waken to void, waken to breath,
Waken to the world, waken to the grave,
Waken to your host, wake and be saved.
Kaylin began to stir.
Or rather, he began to convulse. I motioned to Chatter, who hurried
over to my side. Kaylin was shaking and it was all I could do to
keep him down. He frothed at the mouth, his eyes rolling back in
his head, and I leaned forward, pressing his shoulders down,
holding him still. He’d be bruised and sore, but it would be worse
if I just let him flail.
Chatter pulled out a
little bottle that the shaman had given me before we left the Court
of Dreams and dropped three drops of the potion into Kaylin’s
mouth. Kaylin let out a long scream—really more of a howl—and I
felt his arousal as he began to wake. Crap. This could end
badly.
Kaylin thrashed and I
suddenly found myself flying through the air, onto the floor, as he
stood. He rose up, standing over me, erect and hair flowing, his
eyes flashing with an odd light. Chatter backed up, reaching down
to grab my hand, pulling me out of the way.
As if he’d never seen
himself before, Kaylin held out his arms, examining them, then
glanced down at his erection and let out a low, throaty laugh as he
turned toward me.
“Thank you for waking
me, Cicely. Let me show you just how grateful I am.” The look on
his face was insolent and yet—and yet—there was Kaylin, behind the
new attitude.
“Kaylin—do you
remember what happened?” The thought ran through my mind that maybe
this hadn’t been the best idea, but Lainule had insisted we needed
him and how could I leave him in a vegetative state? I might as
well have killed him as done that.
“Oh, I remember,” he
said, slowly stepping toward me. “I was sleeping for a long, long
time and then . . . something stirred and it was time for me to
wake.”
“You’re the
night-veil—where’s Kaylin? I see him in there. Let him through.
It’s his body and you only share it.”
“Share it? No, I
think not. I’m going to take this body and thoroughly enjoy the
freedom.” The demon laughed, holding out his hand. He made a fist
and brought it up, gazing at it joyfully.
“Cicely—you have the
fetish!” Chatter frantically motioned to my hand.
Crap! I was supposed to break the fetish against
Kaylin’s heart! Otherwise the demon would be free to control him. I
scrambled to my feet, nodding.
“Help me, Chatter—I
can’t do it by myself.”
The demon snorted.
“You think I’m going to let you carry through with the rest of the
spell? I know perfectly well what you’re up to and it’s not going
to work.”
I glanced at Chatter,
wondering if we could take him. We didn’t dare let him loose. “We
have to,” I murmured. And so, without another word, we both jumped
Kaylin, trying to take him down.