Rune released a frustrated sigh. “I agree, but that’s a very narrow set of requirements. If you want an abandoned warehouse area, there are a few places in Queens or in Brooklyn along the East River that might work.”
“No,” Graydon said. “That feels too risky.”
“What about the FDR Four Freedom memorial?” Constantine asked. “It’s on the tip of Roosevelt Island, and it closes overnight.”
“That’s a possibility,” Graydon said slowly.
But he didn’t like it, and he could see the same dissatisfaction on the other two men’s faces. Not only did the memorial close at night, but it was also winter—yet those factors only lessened the risk of possible harm to others. They didn’t negate it.
None of them really knew what kind of area the battle would cover. So much of that would hinge on whether or not Julian could maintain his hold and truly keep the Djinn grounded.
Constantine said, without much conviction, “Governors Island. Again, it’s closed to the public at night.”
Rubbing his neck, Graydon shook his head. “I don’t know, man. I don’t like it.”
Rune snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. Hart Island.”
Graydon blew out a slow breath, as he thought about it. Hart Island was at the western end of the Long Island Sound. He could reach the island quickly and easily by air, so it was close enough to allay any suspicion.
Roughly a mile long, and a quarter of a mile across, Hart Island was also inaccessible to the public. Over a decidedly dark history, it had been a quarantine, an insane asylum, a workhouse for boys, a missile base, a Civil War prison camp, and a potter’s field—and now the island was the largest tax-funded cemetery in the world.
Aside from prison burial crews and a ferry that landed at a memorial gazebo once a month, the island lay abandoned, haunted by a dark past and the dead.
It was also warded by prison guards detailing burial crews by day, and with copious restricted area and no trespassing signs. There were crumbling buildings, along with an uneven landscape along the shore, which would offer plenty of places for Peacekeeper troops to hide as they lay in wait.
Tactically, the island was perfect.
“Yes,” he said. Constantine nodded.
“One last thing, which is no longer my call to make,” said Rune. He watched the two sentinels’ faces closely. “Do we tell Dragos?”
Graydon met Constantine’s blue eyes. “You know my feeling about it, but I’m also aware that I’m too close to this issue to be objective.”
“I agree with your earlier decision,” Con said to him. “Some of us have had more than enough challenges to face over the last eighteen months. If we tell Dragos, he’ll be tempted to get involved, and this doesn’t have to be his fight. We have a strong enough force as it is. We move ahead on our own.”
Rune said, “Your call, guys.”
Constantine lifted one broad shoulder. “Hey, it’s why he’s got sentinels in the first place. Otherwise, we’d be, I dunno, secretaries, or some dumb shit like that.”
For the first time in what felt like a long time, Graydon burst out laughing. “Indeed, my man,” he said. “We’d be some dumb shit like that.”
Rune clapped Graydon on the shoulder. “I’m going to check in with Carling and see what the other group has decided.”
When he left them, Constantine moved closer to Graydon. The two men watched as Rune maneuvered around furniture and people to reach Carling’s side. He touched her shoulder, and Carling’s face softened as she looked up at him. Rune leaned over to kiss her temple.
Telepathically, Constantine asked, Do you think he regrets it at all? I mean, leaving his position as First.
Maybe, sure, Graydon said. Sometimes. In certain moods. Regret’s kinda the underbelly of all those “what if” questions we ask ourselves late at night. He didn’t stop caring about any of us just because he mated with Carling. Yet, I don’t think he ever regretted mating with her. They both enjoy the work they do through their agency. It’s challenging and rewarding, and I believe he’s happy. Really happy.
I wonder what it feels like, said Con. To have someone become your whole world, and to have them rely on you. Must be a hell of a thing.
It felt painful. Necessary.
Hovering on the edge of mating as he was, he couldn’t think of any other words to describe it.
Constantine’s gaze cut sideways to him. Would you ever think about leaving your position for a woman?
The other man’s question wasn’t an idle one, he knew. Not after what everybody had witnessed happen earlier. He looked at Bel again. She was hugging Grace. As she let go, Khalil swept Grace away in a swirl of Power, no doubt taking her back home to her niece and nephew in Florida.
I made a promise, Graydon said. Not when we became sentinels. I mean recently. And I intend to do everything in my power to keep it.
Somehow, he would. Never mind that at the moment conflicting needs threatened to tear him into pieces. He would hold the course. All he had to do was figure out how.
She’s your chance, man. Con gave him a sidelong smile. You’ve got to take it.
Determination hardened his resolve. We’ll see what we have together—after.
He had calmed enough from the frenzy that had touched him earlier to remember the many tensions and challenges that lay between him and Bel. It was impossible to grapple with any of them properly, to move forward or settle emotionally, until Malphas was dead.
The Djinn may not have killed him yet, but he still had brought Graydon’s life to a stop.
One way or another, that ended tonight.
Pivoting, he took stock of everybody, assessing the mood in the room.
Tension pulled the air tight, vibrating like the string on a bow before an arrow is unleashed. People talked faster, fueled by adrenaline, their voices crisp as they laid their plans.
While the three gryphons had talked, Bel must have called Linwe, because at some point the younger Elf had arrived at the suite. Soren had also fetched another Councillor from the Elder tribunal, a tall Elven woman named Sidhiel Raina. Both the newcomers looked shocked and sober, so the others must have filled them in on the news.
Khalil returned as well, and both Djinn left to organize and transport troops of Peacekeepers to Hart Island. And somehow—Graydon hadn’t tracked how, exactly—Julian had acquired a rare Elven suit of armor.
He emerged from one of the bedrooms after donning it, carrying a helmet under one arm. The suit molded the contours of his powerful body, the subtle matte of its surface providing a natural camouflage as it reflected the colors of the room. While the camouflage would be effective in any number of scenarios, especially from a distance, this time it wouldn’t be adequate to hide him from the Djinn. Once Julian and Graydon had decided their final positions, Carling would have to cast her strongest cloaking spell in order to hide him.
Finally, Graydon couldn’t stand it any longer. He strode over to Bel, where she stood in a tight huddle with Sidhiel, Linwe, Melly, Luis and Claudia. As he approached, she turned to face him. She had been watching him too.
The others retreated. Sidhiel and Linwe lingered the longest, until Luis and Claudia took their arms and pulled them away. Surprise and objection flashed across the Elven women’s faces, but they acquiesced to the others’ urging.
As Melly left, she said quietly to Bel, “We’re ready to go when you are. We’ll wait for you outside.”
“Thank you,” Bel told her.
The door to the suite closed quietly behind the Light Fae princess.
Graydon lifted his eyebrows. “Melly’s going with you?”
Bel nodded jerkily, flattening her hands on his chest as he drew her close. Absently, she stroked her palms across his pectorals as she replied, “She said it would be too unbearable to watch and wait while Julian goes into battle.”
Her dark gaze lifted to his. “I understand how she feels.”
Bowing his head, he rested his forehead against hers. “As do I. I hate that you have to confront Ferion without me.”
“We don’t have a choice,” she whispered as she clenched her fingers on his biceps. “Everything has to happen simultaneously. Soren can’t try to remove the soul lien until Julian has Malphas trapped, otherwise we’ll run the danger of tipping Malphas off. And we have no idea what’s going to happen when Soren does remove it, or what kind of attention we may draw from the rest of the household.”
He gritted his teeth. “If only there was any other way to do this. Tell me Linwe is going to guard you.”
She nodded again. “And Sidhiel. Between Sidhiel and I, we should represent enough authority to try to win some kind of control over the situation, if—if Ferion can’t.”
Ferion could die when the soul lien was removed. He could be dangerously unstable. Graydon’s face tightened as his mind raced through various catastrophic scenarios.
“Letting you go is the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” he gritted.
Just as it had been the last time. As it had been every time.
She threw her arms around his neck. “Absolutely do not worry about me,” she told him in a strong, steady voice. “Don’t give it a foothold in your thoughts. Not only will Sidhiel and Linwe be accompanying me, but also, Luis, Claudia and Melly will be going too. And Soren, at least until he frees Ferion. It’s a good, strong group. We’ll be all right.”
He needed to believe that. Tightening his arms around her, he concentrated fiercely on the sensation of her long, slender body against his.
She murmured, “You’re the one I’m worried about. Gods, Graydon. The risk you’re taking. I feel sick thinking about it.”
As dark as a raven’s wing, the vision brushed along the edge of his mind. White, black and red like heart’s blood.
It was so close now, he could almost touch it.
“Don’t think about it,” he murmured. He passed his hand over her silken hair. “Instead, think about this.”
Even as her pretty, plump lips began to form a question, he covered her mouth with his.
For one moment, everything else fell away. He surrendered his soul to it and kissed her with all the passion he had, eating at her plump, soft mouth like it was a banquet he had never eaten before, and would never have again.
Underneath his lips, her mouth came alive, and she kissed him back with such transparent, desperate longing, it tore at him inside.
Cupping her face, he whispered against her lips, “There’s nothing else but this. Nothing else but us.”
Her mouth trembled. “I—I don’t know how I can bear it if . . .”
He kissed her again, hard. “Stop, don’t think of it. Be here, right now. We have all the time in the world. We’ve lived together for years. Picture it . . . Look at how happy we are.”
Her eyes flew open. As she stared at him, two tears spilled out of the corners of her eyes and flowed over his fingers. She tried to smile. “We’ve lived together?”
He nodded, pressing his lips to her forehead. “We’ve had children. What a handful they’ve been, growing up, but we’ve loved every minute of it. And we did buy that house, outside the city. We go there every chance we can.”
“The one with the big, private yard,” she breathed. Her fingers curled around his wrists, thumbs working over his skin.
Hungry for her mouth again, he kissed her over and over. “We have the most beautiful garden,” he told her. “It’s a bit wild and secretive, but we like that very much.”
A ghost of a laugh came out of her, the tiniest shiver of air against his lips. “I have a vegetable garden in the sunniest part of the yard. You go hunting, and bring home wild game.”
“And our friends come to visit.” He smiled against her mouth, thinking of it. “We are always happy to see them and yet glad when they leave, so we can have the place to ourselves again.”
“It’s so beautiful,” she breathed. “You’re right, I am happy. I’m more happy than I ever dreamed possible.”
All the immense number of hours he had experienced throughout countless days, and they counted as nothing against the richness of the life he lived in that one moment.
When the suite door opened, the beast inside him wanted to rage at the interruption. He let the impulse die. There would be plenty of fighting, soon enough.
Constantine said quietly, “Gray, it’s time. Everything is set up. We’ve got to go.”
Just like that, with a few quiet words, their happy, rich life together that was built in a single moment faded.
Their eyes met. The brightness that had begun to touch Bel’s face darkened.
Dropping his hands, Graydon stepped back.
Leaving her. He was always leaving her.
Turning away was like taking a knife to the gut. Somehow, he managed to speak around the pain. “On my way.”
SEVENTEEN
The three gryphons flew to Hart Island together. Rune carried Carling, while Julian rode on Graydon’s back.
Aside from Soren, who would join them as fast as he could, they were all the principals who would be spearheading the attack.
Graydon wished they had more Djinn support, but the Djinn made decisions based on consensus. If Soren took this issue to the Djinn assembly, they would talk the subject to death, and he knew somehow word would get back to Malphas. They couldn’t afford to risk losing the element of surprise, and they didn’t have the time.
The night air felt wet and heavy, like another snowstorm was imminent. Lowering clouds filled the sullen sky. There wasn’t a star in sight, only an indirect illumination cast by the hidden moon.
Julian asked, “What kind of wager are you going to offer Malphas?”
I don’t know. He hadn’t had a chance to think that far ahead. All I know is he won’t be able to resist a gamble.
The Vampyre laughed. “Cutting it a little close to the bone, aren’t you? Well, something had better occur to you quick.”
Don’t worry, he said. I’ve got this. Just be ready to grab him when he solidifies, and we’ll be good to go.
As they flew in low to the approach to Hart Island, Julian directed them to the appropriate section of shoreline. “There’s thirty Peacekeeper troops hidden in those nearby buildings, mostly war mages and medics. Soren and Khalil brought them in, so there aren’t any scents or foot tracks in the outlying areas. For the last half hour, they’ve been layering deflection spells over the group, along with cloaking spells.”
A disembodied, familiar Djinn presence rose up to meet them. It was Khalil. The Djinn informed them, “They’re hidden well enough. If I can sense nothing, neither will Malphas.”
Graydon’s skin began to prickle as he studied the narrow, uneven beach. Nearby, a tall, crumbling chimney stack jutted into the sky.
As he circled the area, the view aligned, until he could look up at the length of the chimney stack as it towered over the land like a behemoth.
Constantine and Rune circled with him, the three gryphons wheeling like gigantic birds of prey.
Julian slapped his shoulder, splintering his preoccupation. “Where do you want me?”
You don’t need to breathe, he said. And the cold won’t bother you. The best place for you to hide is under water, at the shoreline. The water will cover your scent.
“Agreed,” said Julian. “The water it is.”
“We can’t land here,” Carling shouted to them, “or we’ll leave too many footprints in the snow. We need to take cover in the nearby buildings. When Julian makes his move, we’ll be out here as fast as we can. Julian, make your drop. I’ll cover you with cloaking spells.”
On my count, said Graydon. He swung around, descended further and spread his wings so that he coasted over the water as h
e approached the shore. One, two—drop.
Rolling off his back, Julian hit the water with a splash. A moment later, Graydon’s paws touched down on the cold, rocky ground. He barely noticed when Rune dove, spun and dove again, while Carling layered cloaking spells over the area where Julian had disappeared.
Shapeshifting, Graydon stared around him.
Overhead, the clouds broke apart. As the moonlight grew sharper, he saw white snow covering black rocks on the beach. Whorls of ice banded the rocks where the uneasy ocean rocked and lapped.
White, and black, near a dark, tempestuous shore.
He had never been to this place before, and yet he recognized every detail of it.
See you soon, buddy, Constantine said in his head.
The two other gryphons, along with Carling, winged toward the buildings and disappeared.
Khalil said, “This is where I leave you. Good hunting.”
The Djinn’s presence arced away.
Graydon’s heart began a slow, hard pounding, like the deep clanging of a bell. He breathed deeply and evenly to manage the dump of adrenaline plunging through his veins.
Telepathically, he reached out to Julian. You close enough to hear me?
Yes, said the Vampyre. I’m a few yards away, just beyond the ice.
Okay, he said.
Okay.
Balancing on slippery, broken rocks, he moved away from the shoreline until he reached the end of the narrow beach, where he turned, putting the chimney stack behind him and facing the ocean.
All his planning fell away. All the talk, the preparations. He had lived the very best of his life in a single moment. The only thing that remained was the sound of his breath as he released it. It vaporized into the endless winter’s night.
Injecting Power into his voice, he called out, “Malphas.”
The pariah took his time answering the summons.
As Graydon sensed Malphas’s leisurely approach, he realized that for all of their caution and extreme effort in laying the trap, the Djinn wasn’t acting like he was suspicious.