“Did you love him?”
“I did. And I told him that. I told him I loved him, but I didn’t tell him what I was.” She drew a deep breath. “Honestly? I don’t know if that was sheer cowardice or ingrained training, but I didn’t tell him. We were together eight months, and he never knew. There had to be signs, there had to be clues. Hey, Jeremy, don’t you wonder how I got these bruises? Why my clothes are trashed? Where the hell this blood came from? But he never asked, and I never let myself wonder why.”
“People, you said, have blinders. Love, I think, can thicken them.”
“Bet your ass. He asked me to marry him. Oh God, he pulled out all the stops. The wine, the candles, the music, all the right words. I just rode on it, the big, shiny fantasy of it. Still, I didn’t say anything, not for days. Until my aunt sat me down.”
She pressed the thumb and finger of one hand to her eyes. “You have to tell him, she said to me. You have to make him believe it. You can’t have a life, can never build one with him, not with lies or half-truths or without trust. Dragged my feet another couple of weeks, but it ate at me. I knew she was right. But he loved me, so it would be all right. It would all work out fine. Because he loved me, and he’d see I was doing not just what I had to do, but what was right.”
Holding her glass in both hands, she closed her eyes. “I explained it to him as carefully as I knew how, taking him through the family history. He thought I was joking.” She opened her eyes now, met Larkin’s. “When he realized I wasn’t, he got hostile. Figured it was my sick way of breaking the engagement. We went round and round about it. I badgered him into going to the cemetery with me. I knew one was supposed to rise that night, and hey, a picture’s worth a thousand. So I showed him what they were, what I was.”
She drank again, one long sip. “He couldn’t wait to get away from me. Couldn’t wait to pack his things and get away. To walk out on me. I was a freak, and he never wanted to see me again.”
“He was weak.”
“He was just a guy. Now he’s a dead guy.”
“So it’s your fault, is it? Your fault that you cared enough to share what you are with him. To show him not only that there are monsters in the world, but that you’re strong enough, courageous enough to fight them? Your fault that he wasn’t man enough to see the wonder of you?”
“What wonder? I do what I’m trained to do, follow the family business.”
“That’s bollocks, and worse, it’s self-pity.”
“I didn’t kill him—you were right about that. But he’s dead because of me.”
“He’s dead because a vicious, soulless demon killed him. He’d dead because he didn’t believe in what was in front of his eyes, and didn’t hold on to you. And none of that is your doing.”
“He left me, like my father left me. I thought that was the worst. But this…I don’t know what to do with the pain.”
He took her glass, set it aside. Reaching out he pulled her into his arms, pressed her head onto his shoulder. “Put a bit of it here for now. Shed your tears, a stór. You’ll feel better having given them to him.”
He held her, stroking her hair and soothing, while she wept for another man.
She woke tucked into his bed, still dressed, and grateful she was alone. The hangover wasn’t the clanging bell of a night of foolish indulgence, but the dull gong that came from using whiskey as a cushion.
He’d drawn the drapes so the sun wouldn’t wake her, she noted, and checked her watch for the time. The fact that it was already noon made her groan as she threw back the covers to sit on the side of the bed.
Too much to do, she told herself, to coddle a half-assed hangover and a raging case of sorrow. Before she could gather the fortitude to stand, Larkin walked in. He carried a glass that held something murky and brown.
“I’d say good morning, but it likely doesn’t feel as such to you.”
“It’s not too bad,” she told him. “I’ve had worse.”
“Regardless, it isn’t the day for having a head. Glenna says this will help it.”
She looked dubiously at the glass. “Because drinking it will make me throw up everything in my system?”
“She didn’t say. But you’ll be a brave girl now and take your medicine.”
“I guess.” She took the glass, sniffed at the contents. “Doesn’t smell as bad as it looks.” She took a deep breath, downed all of it. Then shuddered right down to her toes. “Tastes a lot worse. Not just eye of newt, but the whole damn newt.”
“Give it a minute or two to settle.”
She nodded, then stared down at her hands. “I wasn’t at my best last night, to put it extremely mildly.”
“No one expects you should be at your best at all times. Certainly not me.”
“I want to thank you for the ear, and the shoulder.”
“Those seemed to be the parts of me you needed most.” He sat beside her. “Were you clear-headed enough to understand what I said to you?”
“Yeah. It’s not my fault. In my head I know it’s not my fault. There are other parts of me, Larkin, that have to catch up with my head on this.”
“They wasted you, these men. I won’t.” He pushed to his feet again when she stared at him. “Something else for you to catch up with. Come down when you’re ready. We’ve a lot of work.”
She kept staring even after he’d gone out and closed the door behind him.
It helped to have the work. They would carry—the old-fashioned way—as much of the supplies and weapons as possible to the circle. Hoyt and Glenna would continue to work on a shield of some kind for Cian.
With Larkin in the form of a horse, Blair loaded him while Moira loaded Cian’s stallion.
“Sure you can ride that thing?” Blair asked her.
“I can ride anything.” Moira glanced toward the tower window. “It’s the only way to get this done. They need to concentrate on what they’re doing. We can’t risk trying to carry everything we’re taking the full distance after sunset.”
“Nope.” Blair swung onto Larkin’s back. “Keep your eyes open. We may have company in the woods.”
They started out, single file. “Can you really smell them?” Moira called out.
“It’s more that I sense them. I’ll know if one gets close.” She scanned the trees, the shadows. Nothing stirred but birds and rabbits.
Sunlight, she thought, and birdsong. It would be a different matter taking this route at night. She and Moira, she decided, on Larkin, with Hoyt and Glenna on the stallion. Cian, she thought, could move nearly as fast as a horse at a gallop if necessary.
It was a twisting and at times a barely trod path. And at times the shadows over it were deep enough to have her fingers twitch toward the crossbow.
She felt the ripple of Larkin’s muscles between her thighs, nodded. So he could sense them, too, she thought. Or the horse he was inside could sense them. “They’re watching. Keeping their distance, but watching.”
“They’ll understand what we’re about.” Moira glanced back. “Or get word to Lilith, and she will.”
“Yeah. Pick up the pace a little. Let’s get this done.”
They came out of the woods, crossed a short fallow field. On the rise of it stood the stone Dance.
“It is big,” Blair murmured. Not Stonehenge big, she thought, but impressive. And like Stonehenge, even before she moved into the shadow of the stones, she felt them. Almost heard them.
“Strong stuff.” She dismounted.
“In this world, and in mine.”
Moira slid off the stallion, then laid her head against Larkin’s. “It’s our way home.”
“Let’s hope so.” Within the Dance, Blair began to offload weapons. “You’re sure vamps can’t come inside the circle?”
“No demon can pass between the stones and step on the sacred ground. It’s that way in Geall, and from everything I’ve read on it, that way in this world as well.”
Moira looked as Blair did, toward the woods. But sh
e thought of Cian and what would become of him if they were forced to leave him behind.
“We’ll figure it out.”
Moira glanced over. “You’re worried, too.”
“It’s a concern. We’ve got to get him there, keep him from frying—so make that two really major concerns. Handy this is a safety zone, and we’re not going to come back in a few hours and find they’ve raided our weapons stash, but Cian’s the downside.”
Without thinking, she rubbed Larkin’s flank. When he turned his head, eyed her, she dropped her hand. “Hoyt and Glenna are on it. We all go, that’s the deal. So we’ll figure it out.”
The swish of Larkin’s tail slapped her in the butt. “Hey.”
“He’s a playful sort,” Moira commented. “In almost any form.”
“Yeah, he’s a real jokester. Ought to be careful, one of these days he might stick in one of the four-legged varieties.” She came around to his head. “Then where will you be?”
He slurped his tongue from her jaw to her cheekbone. “Eeww.”
Moira’s laugh bubbled out as she stacked the last of the weapons. “He makes me laugh, even in the worst of times. Ah well,” she said when Blair scowled and swiped the slobber from her cheek. “You don’t seem to mind his tongue on you when he’s a man.”
The sound Larkin made was as close to a laugh as a horse could manage. Moira just grinned and swung back onto the stallion. “It’s hard to miss when two people are eager to get their hands on each other. I once had a crush on him myself.” She reached over, tugged Larkin’s mane. “But then I was five. I’ve gotten well over it now.”
“It’s the quiet ones you’ve got to watch out for,” Blair muttered. “You.” She jerked her head toward Moira as she mounted Larkin. “Quiet type, into the books, little shy around the edges. I wouldn’t have figured you’d take the idea of me banging your cousin so casually.”
“Banging?” Moira pursed her lips as they rode through the stones. “That would be a term for sexual relations? It fits, doesn’t it because…” She draped the reins over Vlad’s neck so she could slap her hands together. And this time, Blair laughed.
“You’re just full of surprises.”
“I know what happens between a man and a woman. Theoretically.”
“Theoretically. So you’ve never—” She caught Moira’s wincing glance toward Larkin. “Oh, sorry. Big horses have big ears.”
“Well, I suppose it’s a small thing, considering all the rest. No, I’ve never. If I’m to be queen, I’ll need to marry. But there’s time. I’d want to find someone who’d suit, and who understands me. I’d like best to love as my parents loved each other, but at least, I’d want to care for him. And I’d hope he’d be skilled at banging.”
This time the sound Larkin made was a kind of mutter.
“Why should you be the only one?” Moira slid her foot from the stirrup to give him a light kick with her boot. “Is he good at it then, our Larkin?”
“He’s an animal.”
Beneath her, Larkin broke into a fast trot.
Yes, Blair thought, it was good to laugh, even in the worst of times.
Chapter 12
Cian fingered the rough black material with mild distaste. “A cloak.”
“But it’s a magic cloak.” Glenna tried a winning smile. “With hood.”
Black cloaks and vampires, he thought with an inward sigh. Such a cliche. “And this…thing is supposed to prevent me from going up in flames in direct sunlight.”
“It really should work.”
He sent her a mildly amused look. “Should being the operative word.”
“Your blood didn’t boil when we exposed it,” Hoyt began.
“There’s cheery news. It happens I’m made up of more than blood.”
“Blood’s the key,” Hoyt insisted. “Blood’s the heart of it. You’ve said so yourself.”
“That was before my flesh and bone were on the line.”
“We’re sorry there’s no time to test it.” Glenna pushed a hand through her hair. “It took so long, and until we were reasonably sure, we couldn’t ask you to put it on and step outside.”
“Considerate of you.” He held it up. “Couldn’t you have made it a bit more stylish?”
“Fashion wasn’t our primary concern.” Hoyt didn’t quite snap out the words, but it was close. “Protecting your sorry self was.”
“I’ll be sure to thank you for it if I’m not a pile of inarticulate ash at the end of the day.”
“And so you should.” Moira condemned him with one quiet look. “They worked through the night, and all through this day with only you in mind. And while you’ve slept the rest of us have been working as well.”
“I had work of my own, Your Highness.” He dismissed her simply by turning his back. “Well, it’s unlikely to be an issue as your stone circle rejects my sort.”
“You have to trust in the gods,” Hoyt told him.
“I’m forced to remind you, yet again. Vampire. Vampires and gods aren’t drinking buddies.”
Glenna stepped up to Cian, laid a hand over his. “Wear it. Please.”
“For you, Red.” He tipped her face up, kissed her lightly on the lips. Then he stepped back, swirled it on. “Feel like a bloody B movie extra. Or worse, a sodding monk.”
He didn’t look like a monk, Moira thought. He looked dangerous.
Blair and Larkin came in. “We’re as secure as we’re going to be,” Blair said, then lifted her eyebrows at Cian. “Hey, you look like Zorro.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You know, that scene where he’s in the chapel with the girl, and he’s pretending to be the priest. Only, jeez, the kind of priest we used to call Father What a Waste. Anyway, sun’s down. If we’re going to go, we’d better.”
Hoyt nodded, looked at Cian. “You’ll stay close.”
“Close enough.”
Blair might have wished they’d taken time to practice the maneuver, but it was too late for wishes. No more talk, she thought. No more discussion—and no dress rehearsals. It was now or never.
After a quick nod, a quick breath, she and Larkin went through the door first. Even as he changed, she was leaping up, then reaching a hand down to help Moira vault behind her.
They rode away from the stables at a hard run, with the hope of drawing any that waited in ambush. She barely saw Cian streak out. He was at the stable doors in seconds, releasing the stallion.
Then he was gone again, and Hoyt and Glenna were on Vlad’s back.
With barely a glimmer of moonlight to guide them, a gallop was risky once they reached the trees. Blair kept Larkin to a trot, trusting him to watch the path as she scanned the woods.
“Nothing yet, nothing. If they’re around they’re hanging back.”
“Can you see Cian?” With her bow ready, Moira tried to look everywhere at once. “Sense him?”
“No, there’s nothing.” Blair shifted in the saddle to look over Moira’s shoulder at Hoyt. “Watch the flank. They may come at us from behind.”
They rode in absolute silence, with only the sound of hooves on the path. And that, Blair thought, was a problem. Where were the nightbirds? Where were all the little rustles and peeps of the small animals in a night woods?
Demon hunters, she knew, weren’t the only creatures who could sense vampires.
“Be ready,” Blair said under her breath.
She heard it then, the clash of steel, a sudden scream. She didn’t have to urge Larkin on with words or a nudge of her heels. He was already at a gallop.
She sensed them seconds before they charged out of the trees. Foot soldiers this time, she judged, with some seasoning and wearing light armor. She sliced down with her sword even as Moira’s arrows began to fly.
Hooves struck out, and trampled whatever fell beneath them. But the enemy came from everywhere, blocking the circle, and barring the path to the Dance. Blair kicked out, knocking one back as it clawed at her leg. Too many, she thought. T
oo many to make a stand.
Better, she thought, better to charge, break the line, and get to the stones.
Then the one that leaped down from a branch above her nearly unseated her, knocking her back as she rammed up an elbow to block it. Moira pitched to the ground. With a cry of rage, Blair smashed back with a fist. She’d nearly jumped down when Cian flew across the path.
He swooped Moira up, all but threw her back on Larkin. “Go!” he shouted. “Go now.”
She charged the line, the flames from her sword cutting a burning path. She could only hope Cian was out of harm’s way as a ball of fire whizzed by her. She felt Larkin vibrate beneath her, and the form of him shift.
Then she was soaring up on the dragon’s back, with his claws raking across the line of vampires, slashing out with his tail as Hoyt and Glenna galloped through the gap.
She could see the stones now. Though clouds covered the moon they glowed like polished silver, shining against the dark. She would have sworn even with the rush of wind, the cries of battle, she heard them singing.
As Hoyt and Glenna flew through them and into the circle, Larkin dived.
She leaped from his back, favoring the leg the vampire had scored. “Get ready,” she ordered.
“Cian—”
She squeezed Moira’s shoulder. “He’ll come. Hoyt?”
He drew out his key; Moira did the same. “We don’t say the words until Cian’s with us.” As with the stones themselves, power seemed to pulse from Hoyt as he took Glenna’s hand. “We don’t say the words until we’re a circle again.”
Blair nodded. Whatever the stones held, whatever Hoyt and Glenna had been born with, the full force of the power came from unity. They’d wait for Cian.
She turned to Larkin. “Nice riding, cowboy. How bad is it?”
He pressed a hand to his bleeding side. “Scratches. You?”
“Same. Clawed up a little. Everybody else?”
“We’ll do.” Glenna was already stanching a gash in Hoyt’s arm.
“He’s coming,” Moira murmured.
“Where?” Hoyt clamped a hand on her arm. “I see nothing.”
“There.” She pointed. “He’s coming.”
He was a blur coming out of the trees, a swirl of black up the rise.
“Wasn’t that entertaining? They’re regrouping, for all the good it will do them.” There was blood on his face, and more running down from a slice in his thigh.
“Come.” Hoyt held out a hand to him. “It’s time.”
“I can’t.” Cian lifted his own hand and pressed it against the air between the stones. “It’s like a wall to me. I am what I am.”
“You can’t stay here,” Hoyt insisted. “They’ll hunt you down. You’ll be alone.”
“I’m not such easy prey. Do what you’re meant to do. I’ll stay to make certain it works.”
“If you stay we all stay.” Larkin stepped to the gap between two stones. “If you fight, we all fight.”
“The sentiment’s appreciated,” Cian told him. “But this is bigger than one of us, and you have somewhere to be.”
“The other portal,” Larkin began.
“If I find it, you can buy me a drink in Geall. Go.” He met Hoyt’s eyes. “What’s meant is meant. So you’ve always believed, and so—in my way—have I. Go. Save worlds.”
“I’ll find a way.” Hoyt reached through the stones to grip Cian’s hand. “I’ll find a way, I swear it to you.”