Shadow's End

  Graydon roared at Malphas, “Release your hold on him!”

  I love you, Ferion said in her head. His eyes reddened as blood vessels burst in the whites.

  If she could strike a blow at the Djinn, she would, with all the terrified fury raging in her heart. But while she could fight very well in a physical battle, at his essence, Malphas was not a physical creature. She was considered one of the most Powerful of her kind, but most often, Elven Power was connected to the elements of the earth.

  Her Power connected her to wild, living things. It was the kind that ran slow and deep, and took years to build. By working with natural forces like vines, trees and other foliage, given enough time, she could destroy a city. She had an array of other specific spells, like misdirection and cloaking, but she had no real Power to use against a creature of spirit.

  The only weapons she had of worth in any conflict against the Djinn were things like connections and political influence. Those, too, were weapons that could be wielded very effectively, but only over time.

  In that moment, though, there was only one thing she could think to do that might work quickly enough to save Ferion’s life.

  “You want begging.” She didn’t even recognize her own voice. “Fine, I’m begging you. Please stop this. Do you need to see me on my hands and knees? Look, I’m already here.”

  Cold satisfaction settled into Malphas’s face. He said to Ferion, “Breathe.”

  Instantly, Ferion’s body arched as he sucked in a huge breath of air. Wheezing, he closed his arms around her.

  Graydon strode across the room to stand protectively over them. Staring at the Djinn with open hatred, he snarled, “You’ve made a massive mistake.”

  “Have I?” said Malphas. He strolled into the room. “Pray tell, how did I do that? Did I force Ferion to come into my establishment to gamble? Did I make him accrue the kind of debt that he cannot repay?” He looked down at her son. “Ferion, did I compel you to ride out here to take part in a game? Answer.”

  As she stared down into her son’s face, shame darkened his features. He kept his gaze downcast as he whispered, “No.”

  “There you have it.” The Djinn shrugged. “By making a series of choices—not just one—he created a situation where he cannot keep his side of a bargain. I might be a pariah, but that single fact adheres to the very heart of Djinn culture. By Djinn law, I am well within my rights to force a satisfactory conclusion to the bargain by taking some kind of recompense.”

  “You preyed on him,” she said hoarsely. “He’s a good man with a bad weakness, but instead of recognizing that, you gave him credit to continue to gamble, when you knew he couldn’t pay.”

  “Irrelevant,” Malphas told her. “At any point, he could have said no and walked away, paid his debt and been done with the exchange. Now I’ve called in my markers, his debt has come due, and he cannot pay it.”

  The situation had gone so far beyond disastrous, implications reverberated in her mind. Malphas knew about her and Graydon. Of all the creatures to discover them, he was the one who actively wished them harm. And Ferion had accrued a debt so significant, Calondir was sure to hear of it. Life as she knew it began to crumble around her ears.

  Maybe I can still fix this, she thought. If it’s more than I can pay, I might be able to borrow money in secret. I have friends who might help.

  “How much does he owe?” She looked down at Ferion. “How much debt are you in?”

  Pushing out of her arms, he sat, moving quite unlike himself, as if he were an aged, frail human. While he was breathing easily again, his face remained gray, his eyes despairing.

  He said, “Too much.”

  “I believe you still misunderstand,” Malphas said. “You can’t pay his debt for him. Only Ferion can keep his side of the bargain—and he’s done so the only way he can, with the one thing he owns that is of any worth to me. I’ve placed a lien on his soul.”

  NINE

  What do you mean, you’ve placed ‘a lien on his soul’?” Graydon repeated.

  Blood pounded through his veins as his body demanded a fight. He held onto his self-control by a thread.

  He couldn’t hope to win in a fight against Malphas, not alone. At best, he could hold his own. He could even probably drive the Djinn away, but Bel and Ferion were much more vulnerable. If it came to outright battle, they might become casualties, and that possibility was unacceptable.

  So he did the only thing he could. He held himself in check. By the glitter in Malphas’s diamond eyes, he could tell that the Djinn knew he held the upper hand.

  Malphas smiled. “The Djinn make connections to those people with whom they strike bargains.”

  Bel rose to her feet, her posture tense and defensive, and her beautiful features drawn. All her tentative happiness from earlier had vanished. “You’re not talking about social connections. You mean something more literal.”

  “Yes, I mean real, psychic connections. Normally what a Djinn creates is nothing more than a sensitivity, or an awareness, so that the Djinn can hear if that person summons them. Or they might need to check to make sure a bargain is being fulfilled.” Malphas watched as Ferion thrust to his feet. His expression was almost sensual with satisfaction. “I’ve learned how to manipulate connections into something stronger and deeper.”

  Bel gripped Graydon’s arm. She said telepathically, There’s something buried deep in Ferion. It’s smudged and dark like a shadow. I saw it a few moments ago when I scanned him to try to see why he had stopped breathing.

  Do you think you can remove it? he asked.

  She shook her head. It’s completely foreign to me. I’m not even sure what it is, or how much damage it might do to him if I tried anything.

  Ferion said, “He can force me to do things. I can’t control myself.”

  “Precisely.” Malphas crossed over the room to sit in the armchair again. “In order to pay his debt, Ferion has sold himself to me.”

  Bel rounded on the Djinn with such a feral expression on her face, she could have been a match for any Wyr. “Remove it.”

  “Not on your life.” Malphas’s voice had turned soft and deadly. “For a very long time now, I’ve wanted to have a lien on the soul of a highly placed individual in a powerful demesne. Having one on the heir of the High Elven Lord is a dream come true.”

  “None of the demesnes will tolerate this kind of assault,” Graydon snarled. “When word gets out, it won’t matter if you’re abiding by Djinn law. Dragos won’t tolerate it.”

  “Now we come to the heart of the matter.” Malphas laced his fingers together and crossed his legs. “Here are the cards that I hold—I own one beloved son and Elven heir, and a certain knowledge of an affair between two people that would never be sanctioned if it became public.”

  Here it comes, Graydon thought. He met Bel’s gaze again. He could see in her darkening expression the knowledge of a gulf widening between them.

  The Djinn continued, “Here are the cards that you hold—you know what can happen if somebody gambles with me and gets in over his head, and what I can do to them in retaliation. Also, let’s face it, if you drum up enough outrage over Ferion, you could very well gather a hunting party of sufficient strength to kill me. Does this accurately sum up the situation?”

  “You can remove any uncertainty in that,” Graydon bit out. “We will hunt you down and destroy you.”

  The Djinn heaved a sigh. “Oh, very well, I’ll grant you that. But could you locate and destroy me before I kill Ferion?”

  Bel’s face went chalk white. She whispered, “No.”

  “That’s correct.” Malphas’s reply was filled with false gentleness. “No, you couldn’t. So then the real question becomes, how much is Ferion’s life worth to you? What will you pay in order to keep him safe? Because I will tell you right now, owning the lien on one eternal Elven soul—and the
heir to the South Carolina demesne at that—means a very great deal to me.”

  “He can’t hold me hostage if I’m not alive,” Ferion whispered. He stared at Bel, clenched and unpredictable, his gaze burning in the dark sockets of his white face.

  A quiet sound came out of Bel, as if her own soul were being wrenched out of her.

  “You will not commit suicide,” Malphas told him. “Neither by direct action, nor passively by searching for a way to be killed in battle.”

  Graydon turned his entire focus on the Djinn. He growled, “What do you want?”

  The Djinn had been leading them to this very place, because as soon as he heard Graydon’s question, he nodded.

  “I propose a bargain,” he said. “A life for a life. I will not force Ferion to do anything against his will, and much as I am tempted to, I will say nothing about your touching scene in the woods. In return, you will leave me and my business interests alone. You’ll say nothing to anyone about what has occurred, nor will you do anything about what you’ve learned here.” Malice crept back into his handsome features. “And you and Beluviel will never tryst again.”

  Renewed rage and denial exploded in Graydon’s body. He started forward. This time it was Bel who grabbed at his arm.

  He growled, “Like hell we won’t.”

  Malphas lifted one shoulder. “I understand we live in a small world. You’ll see each other at masques and meetings. You might converse at soirees, or share a dance, and if you really must, you can always gaze soulfully into each other’s eyes. But you will never be together again. Not as lovers. Not as a partnership. Those are my terms.”

  Ferion snapped, “This is between you and me. As you so eloquently pointed out, I’m the one who created this mess—and I’m responsible for the debt. Leave them out of this!”

  “Oh, no,” Malphas replied. Without appearing to move he was suddenly standing on his feet. While he faced the three of them, his unblinking, shining diamond eyes remained fixed on Graydon. “You took it upon yourself to meddle in my affairs. Now Malfeasance has been shut down. The building has been razed to the ground.”

  “When did this happen?” Graydon fisted his hands.

  “An hour before dawn.”

  The need to rend the other male into pieces caused his fingers to lengthen into talons. “While Beluviel and I were looking for Ferion.”

  “You might not have destroyed the building yourself, but you were involved.” The Djinn hissed, “I know it!”

  Suddenly Bel screamed, “You monster, there were children in that hellhole!”

  Malphas’s face began to look like the mask it was. Power blazed through the handsome features, and he forgot to move his mouth when he spoke. “What the flesh peddlers did with that part of the business was of no concern of mine. I care nothing for matters of the flesh. All that matters is the game.”

  At that, Graydon realized Malphas was as much of an addict as Ferion. He turned the realization over in his mind, as if assessing a new weapon.

  Somehow, he might find a way to make use of the realization, except at the moment he was having trouble concentrating.

  Just the thought of never being able to touch Beluviel again, kiss her lips, stroke her hair was making him more than a little mad. Easing his arm out of her hold, he stalked toward the Djinn.

  “You’re a pariah,” he snarled. “You don’t keep your word.”

  He had no idea what showed on his expression. Whatever it was, Malphas retreated in the face of it. “I know how to keep a pact when my life is at stake.”

  Suddenly Bel stood beside Graydon. She said between her teeth, “I don’t believe you. You won’t really give up your leverage on Ferion.”

  Malphas’s physical form dissipated. His disembodied voice resonated in the room. “Do you really have a choice? Think about it. Besides, Ferion is only Calondir’s heir. Likely, he will never become the Elven High Lord himself. He’ll continue to live a half life, with no real power or purpose. While I’m happy to have gotten my claws into him, there’s no guarantee my time and trouble will amount to anything.”

  Instinct more than anything caused Graydon to whirl. Malphas had reformed and stood behind Ferion, one hand on the Elf’s shoulder. Ferion stared at them fixedly, a muscle leaping in his rigid jaw.

  “Make your choice,” Malphas said. “Throw the dice.”

  Graydon stared at the Djinn’s hand on Ferion’s shoulder. Then he looked at Bel.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks. Graydon didn’t think she was even aware of it. There was so much love and anguish in her expression when she looked at Ferion, something inside Graydon broke.

  Maybe it was the hope they had created when they talked of meeting every month. The small house with a large, private yard had sounded so perfect to him, and it was never going to happen.

  Ferion was the child of her heart. She had spent so many years loving, protecting and nurturing him, hoping for the best in his future and feeling pain at his struggles.

  I will keep looking for a way to get out of this, Graydon told her telepathically. No matter how long it takes, no matter what I have to do. I will not stop until we’re all freed.

  Graydon, no, Bel said. There must be something we haven’t thought of, something we can still negotiate.

  Can you think of any angle to use? he asked. Because my God, I’m more than ready to hear it.

  Her face clenched. She remained silent.

  Aloud, he said, “We’ll take your deal, Djinn—except for one codicil.”

  Malphas arched one golden eyebrow. “What’s that?”

  Sometimes in life you had to draw a hard line and say this will not happen, no matter what the cost, not as long as I am alive to stop it.

  He said between his teeth, “If you ever again even passively support child prostitution in any form, holding a lien on Ferion’s life won’t protect you. Nobody will be able to protect you. I won’t stop hunting you until you are nothing more than a bad memory scattered on the wind.”

  The room throbbed as his Power boiled over. In the silence, he heard Bel’s distressed breathing, but even though he had just laid her son’s life on the line, she never uttered a word of protest.

  Ferion said with quiet force, “I support that codicil.”

  Malphas made a quick, slicing gesture. “Of course. I’ll make certain of it.”

  Bel said softly, “You do realize that if anything happens to Ferion, my first thought will be of you. If he dies, all your leverage fades away. That card you think you hold over me and Graydon, and what happened between us—it means nothing. So it would be prudent of you to make sure nothing happens to my son.”

  Means nothing.

  The two words beat against Graydon’s temples.

  What did she mean by that? Everything she said held a ring of truth. Did their time together mean nothing? Or did she mean keeping it secret meant nothing?

  Don’t react, he thought. Don’t show this predator any hint of blood.

  Malphas lowered his head while he assessed Bel with a calculating gaze. “Understood.”

  “Now, get your hand off him.” Bel’s voice was sharp enough to slice steel.

  Smiling, Malphas lifted his hand away. “From your hostility, I take it there’ll be no invitation for me to join you for the holidays. No? Oh well, one does endure. In any case, I’m needed elsewhere. I have a new gaming hell to establish. Do shut the door on your way out.” He leaned forward to say in Ferion’s ear, “I’ll check in with you frequently.”

  Ferion’s gaze cut sideways, his expression filled with such loathing that if Malphas had been a physical creature, Graydon felt sure he would not have survived the next few moments.

  The Djinn’s form blew into a whirlwind that dissipated almost at once. Graydon cast out his awareness, seeking for any hint that the Djinn lingered in stealth, but Malpha
s was truly gone.

  He felt as if he had just wallowed in manure. As he rubbed his face hard, Ferion bolted out of the house. Bel’s gaze shot to his in a brief, surprised flash. She strode after her son.

  Graydon didn’t follow them. He could already hear the sounds of retching outside and knew Ferion hadn’t gone far. No doubt, they needed a few moments in private. In any case, he knew he needed a moment.

  He couldn’t stand to be in the confines of the dust-filled room any longer. In fact, he would be doing the world a favor if he destroyed the room altogether.

  Striding over to the armchair, with one vicious kick he booted it toward the fireplace. It shot across the room, crashing into the flames and knocking logs and embers everywhere.

  Following the glowing constellation scattered across the floor, he kicked embers toward the heavy velvet curtains shrouding the front windows. Then he upended the sofa on the rest of the coals.

  Malphas would still prey on foolish gamblers, but he wouldn’t be taking anybody’s life in this place again.

  When Graydon was through, he walked into the hall to sit on the bottom stairs of the wide marble staircase, elbows on knees and head in his hands while he waited to make sure the fire spread.

  It wasn’t enough destruction to suit him. He wanted to rip apart the countryside, set fire to the world. What a wretched, fucked-up day.

  After a few moments, quick, light footsteps approached. He didn’t have to look up to know it was Bel. He would recognize her footsteps anywhere, now.

  She sat down on the stairs beside him. “The curtains in the receiving room are going up in flames. You set fire to the house?”

  He rubbed at his dry eyes. “Not burning the house wasn’t part of the bargain.”

  “If this were any other day that would make me laugh.” She sighed. “I suppose you’ve thought of the surrounding countryside.”

  “I surveyed the area as we flew in. There may be dust all over the furniture, but sometime in the past growing season, the grounds were well tended. The immediate area is clear of trees and shrubs. Whoever originally built the place set the stables well away from the house.” He looked over his hands at her. “Where’s Ferion?”