A Dance With Darkness

  I bit my lip and smiled down at him. My hair spilled over my shoulders, brushing his skin, and I touched his face. “I will stay until dawn, because you wish it,” I told him. “And because I want to.”

  He pulled me down to him and kissed me. Then I lost myself in him for the second time that night, knowing it would not be the last.

  5

  I SAW BASTIAN ON AND OFF FOR MORE THAN A FORTnight in secret, and those weeks were a whirlwind. He was my paramour, and our clandestine meetings gave me a heart-pounding thrill that I’d only ever known during battle. I was wholly taken over by him. I needed to be with him always and when I wasn’t, I felt incomplete. It wasn’t enough anymore for me to fight my enemies every night. I needed the thrill of sneaking away to see Bastian. No one could know. I couldn’t even tell Nathaniel about my happiness. I didn’t want to think of his inevitable disappointment in me.

  After these weeks of running all over London and never staying in any place more than once, Bastian invited me to his country manor one night. Though it was no Lockmoore Castle, it was a beautiful house far from the noise and filth of the city, built on a hill and surrounded by ancient trees and rolling fields. Past the house were the stables, built of the same tawny brick as the house, and full of horses that had long gone to sleep.

  Bastian greeted me at the door with a smile and a kiss, and soon we were tangled in each other’s arms. He gave me a tour of the manor, which was luxurious, but strangely bare as if he didn’t intend to live there long. I saw few keepsakes and possessions besides the furniture, sculpture, and tapestries that were covered in a thin layer of dust. I imagined these things had been here when Bastian moved in.

  There was little I found impressive until he showed me to his library, which struck me speechless. All four walls, floor to ceiling, were lined with shelves upon shelves stacked with books. “Are all of these books yours?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he replied. “You may read anything you’d like. Consider them yours as well.”

  I walked along the shelves, running my fingers across spines and breathing in the earthy scent of paper and leather, some of it very old. “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight … I love the Arthurian tales. You like Dante, I see. The Divine Comedy … and … La Vita Nuova? That one surprises me.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Have you read any of it?” I asked, disbelieving.

  “The entire book many times over.”

  “Which poem is your favorite?”

  “A ciascun’alma presa e gentil core.”

  I stared at him for several long moments, waiting for him to laugh and tell me he was joking, but his expression remained almost defensive. “Why is such a sad sonnet your favorite?”

  He looked elsewhere then, gazing blankly at the books shelved behind me. “Because it’s true.”

  As I watched Bastian, I thought of the author of those poems, Dante, weeping over Beatrice, the muse and love he lost before he ever even held her. I wondered why this poem would be the one to strike Bastian so. “I never figured you for a romantic. That’s all.”

  He took my hand, pulling me toward him, and he slipped his other hand around my cheek tenderly. “I thought you knew me.”

  “I’m knowing you better and better each night,” I replied. “Though I should come to expect a new surprise from you every time we meet again.”

  I heard a soft knock and a fleeting look of worry passed over his face. The front door opened and footsteps followed. Demonic power crept through the country house, slithering across floors and coiling up the walls and stairs toward us. The hairs on my arms stood up. This was a display of power, an announcement of presence, and I began to grow nervous.

  He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Don’t worry, my love.”

  I blinked at him. “My love?”

  He froze for an instant, as if he’d just realized what he’d said, but he quickly melted into a warm smile. “I’ve added it to my list of names for you.”

  I brushed my lips over his smile. “I quite like it. It’s my favorite of all your names for me.”

  “Perhaps I should use it the most.”

  “I would not object.”

  He made a low, guttural sound of frustration and stepped away. “I have to deal with this.”

  “Who has come?” I asked.

  “My son.”

  “Your … ?” Yet another surprise. He didn’t elaborate as he left me in the library to attend to the new arrival, but my curiosity was instant and all-consuming. He had not mentioned a son before now and I wondered why. The likely case was that Bastian didn’t believe I could meet him, seeing that I was angelic and his son was certain to be demonic. It was the same reason I could not introduce Bastian to Nathaniel. Nathaniel would never understand. But as I stood here now, alone and hidden, I realized that I didn’t like this. Perhaps being a paramour was not enough for me anymore. If I loved Bastian, then I wanted to know every part of his life, and that included his family.

  I crept from the library, my slippers as silent as possible on the floor, into the hallway leading to the balcony over the reception room. Voices drifted up the staircase and I listened effortlessly. One was Bastian’s and the other was a gentler, clear male voice that also had Bastian’s Germanic accent.

  “You weren’t to arrive until tomorrow night,” Bastian said, his tone harder than I’d ever heard him speak.

  “Ivar and I had a lead,” his son replied. “We followed it into an angelic ambush.”

  “That seems like failure.”

  “Not quite. The presence of the angelic obviously meant they were guarding something.”

  Both fell quiet as Bastian absorbed this. “Did you retrieve the relic?”

  “No,” his son admitted. “One of them grabbed it and ran before we could follow. We did get information out of the reaper we left alive. The book will be passed to a relic guardian—” He paused abruptly. “Is there someone here?”

  “I have a guest,” Bastian replied.

  I took the opportunity to step out from my hiding place and reveal myself at the balcony above their heads. Bastian snarled a few words in his native tongue, and though I didn’t understand, I could guess by his tone that they were nasty.

  His son looked up at me, burning me with fire-opal eyes beneath pale gold hair. His fair features resembled little of Bastian’s and I imagined he took after his mother, whoever she was, but he was just as beautiful as his father. I could also tell by his strength that he was at least two hundred years old. His gaze followed my descent down the staircase. There was more contempt in those fiery eyes than curiosity. I began to doubt revealing myself.

  “Who are you?” he asked coldly.

  I looked at Bastian for a response. Only he could know what threat his son posed to me, if he was a threat at all. Bastian glowered, but he seemed more irritated than concerned that I’d exposed us.

  “This is Madeleine,” he said at last. “Madeleine, this is Cadan. My son.”

  “Hello,” I said, hoping to give him a good impression. That seemed unlikely.

  Cadan’s gaze on me was relentless. “Might I inquire as to why you are keeping an angelic reaper?”

  My breath caught in my throat and Bastian’s eyes widened. If I’d have let my power go, he could’ve sensed my angelic energy, but I’d never once let it slip. He shouldn’t have been able to know what I was, but clearly his senses were quite keen.

  “She is my guest,” Bastian repeated. He wouldn’t insult his son’s intelligence by denying anything or claiming that I was his prisoner. It was very obvious that I wasn’t just an acquaintance. Even I could catch my own scent on Bastian, and his was all over me in return.

  “Interesting company you keep,” Cadan replied. He was less angry now and more confused. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “I apologize if I was rude. You surprised me, that’s all.”

  “And you surprise me,” I said.

  “How so?”

  “I didn’t expect
you to accept me without major issue, I suppose. I thought you would react differently to knowing what I was.”

  He blinked at me, taken aback. “Did you expect me to just attack you? Did you think we were animals?”

  “No, of course not,” I said. “I’ve never mistaken the demonic for animals, but you and your father are the only demonic that have never ‘just attacked’ me.”

  His contempt began to show again. “Well, you are the only angelic that has ever said hello and not tried to put a sword through my chest.”

  “Cadan,” Bastian said in a low, disapproving tone. “There’s no need.”

  Cadan studied the both of us for several long moments, seeming unable to decide what to do. “You must forgive me for finding this all very strange.”

  “There is one thing I ask of you,” Bastian said, “and you must not fail me in this. Do not breathe a word of her. You understand why and the importance of this. If you do, I will come for you.”

  Cadan was not alarmed by Bastian’s threat and gave his father an even look. He did not answer.

  “That’s not necessary,” I assured them both. “I have a feeling Cadan can be trusted.”

  Surprise overcame his face, but he quickly reined it in. “We’ll discuss matters later, then. Madeleine, it was lovely meeting you.”

  He studied my face a few heartbeats more, a million questions stirring in his eyes, but nothing more was said between us. Then he was gone.

  6

  BASTIAN WAS AWAY FREQUENTLY, AND IT WAS MY greatest test not to search his house for something that might reveal the secret behind the mysterious dagger and book that his kind hunted. I should have ransacked the place the first time he left me alone here, but I couldn’t do it. To forsake his trust would be to forsake my honor. And I loved him. I did not have it in me to betray him. I would uncover the identity of the dagger and book with my honor intact.

  When I was alone here, the house had a hollow echo, a hungry feel to it. The empty halls and lavishly decorated rooms were so void of life that I roamed just to fill the spaces with my footsteps, breath, and voice. The high ceilings provided lovely acoustics and it seemed to me that the manor was meant for music. I would sing through the halls, saving a different song for each room, until the house became some fragmented reflection of a home.

  I wouldn’t always sing happy songs. Sometimes I sang about being lonely, and when I became so, I returned to Nathaniel’s cottage on the outskirts of London. He never fretted over my absences, which often stretched for days, because I’d always been a bit of a nomad. I was nearing a century in age and for my entire life, I’d never stayed in one location for too long. I got restless, as I did when I stayed with Bastian. I enjoyed being around him, but I was free to come and go as I pleased, and I took full advantage of that right.

  On the evening of Bastian’s return from his latest excursion, I was singing again, and when I sensed his arrival, I began to dance. His familiar presence, though demonic, stirred something in me, gave my bones a bounce to them. The front door opened and footsteps shuffled in and I twirled down the hall toward him, singing my song about a doe wandering through a garden, but when I saw his face I halted abruptly with my skirts fluttering around my legs.

  It was not Bastian who had arrived, but his son, Cadan. He smelled of horses and his boots and breeches had traces of mud on them. His expression was filled with the same amusement that often seemed to gleam in Bastian. His eyes, fixed on me, were light in color from a distance, but this close to him I could see flecks of red and violet flames flickering in their jewel-like depths.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, surprising me with his apology. “I expected Bastian to have returned by now. I didn’t think anyone else would be here.”

  “I thought you were him.” I felt my cheeks burning violently with embarrassment. I’d just bounded into the room, singing and dancing like a little girl. He could only think that I was entirely mad.

  His gaze broke and flitted absently around the room as a little smile formed on his mouth. He was easily as beautiful as Bastian, but where Bastian’s appearance was striking darkness, Cadan’s light hair and eyes reminded me of a snowfall on a sunny afternoon. Mistaking Cadan for Bastian wasn’t terribly far-fetched. Their powers felt very similar to me. Still, Cadan had never before rushed to his father’s home to greet him upon arrival. “You …” he said, and trailed off for a moment. He licked his lips as his crooked smile widened in one corner of this mouth. “You have a lovely singing voice. The songbirds must envy you.”

  “Oh, not right now, I’m certain,” I grumbled in return. “What a fool I must look like.”

  “You’re not a fool,” he said. “Happiness is a great improvement to our world.”

  I wasn’t sure if he meant the entire world or the world of the demonic, but I laughed anyway. “If you insist. You just caught me singing and dancing by myself. I’m a little mortified.”

  He shook his head and drew closer. “Don’t be. If you manage to get Bastian doing the same, I’d rob the queen’s jewel chest for you in gratitude. He could do with a more lighthearted disposition.”

  “For the queen’s jewels, I’d be willing to give it a go,” I said. “What if I fail?”

  His handsome features twisted into a funny knot as he considered my question. “Then I will have to join you and we will sing and dance and be lighthearted together.”

  I smiled at him despite myself, and gave him a nod in agreement. “We’ve got a deal.”

  An awkward, momentary silence fell between us as the joke seemed to die. Thankfully, Cadan leaped to the rescue before the situation got too uncomfortable. “I haven’t come early, have I? He’s due before this dawn, correct?”

  “That was my understanding. I have to admit I’m surprised to see you here to greet him. Did you have a meeting? I don’t mean to impose.”

  “No, no,” he stammered, his gaze breaking from mine again. “I was to … report to him … concerning … matters.”

  Meaning he was not at ease with sharing his purpose with me. “Matters,” I repeated. “I see. I can be on my way. It’s no tr—”

  That instant I sensed the arrival of the real Bastian and when I noticed Cadan’s shoulders tense and bunch together, I understood that he’d sensed his father as well. I gauged Cadan’s reaction, the way his entire body responded in fear. His face remained a canvas of blank emotion, but his hands were shaking. When he saw that I noticed, he balled them into fists, and even that couldn’t mask his dread.

  The creak of Bastian’s carriage and the hoofbeats of the horses pulling it slowed to a stop. When he at last appeared through the doorway, I was too unnerved to leap into his arms, though I longed to. I’d missed him and it was clear that he was happy to see me. He swept me close, wrapping an arm around my waist. I cupped his cheeks in my hands, smoothed my thumbs over the few days’ worth of stubble on his jaw, and he kissed me. I’d also missed the softness of his lips on mine and the taste of his breath and skin. He buried his face into my neck, breathing in my scent as he held me close.

  “Madeleine,” he sighed against my bare skin in a sultry way that made it clear he wished to sigh my name against the rest of me.

  His whiskers tickled and I wiggled away from him—reluctantly so—with a scolding look. “You haven’t shaved.”

  He rubbed his chin and flashed me a broad grin. “There wasn’t exactly an opportunity to do so where I’ve been.”

  “Where?” was on my lips, but my voice wouldn’t work. I couldn’t bring myself to ask, because I knew wherever he’d been, he’d been with a demonic agenda. I knew it. He knew it. How long could we continue pretending that we weren’t on opposite sides of a war, that if things between us were as they should be, we’d be trying to kill each other?

  The light in his eyes dimmed and he tore them away from mine. “Cadan,” he said harshly, acknowledging his son’s presence for the first time. “Please join me in the study.”

  Bastian led Cadan down the hall
and into a room. Behind them, Bastian shut the door, sealing me out of their conversation. I moved silently into the hall and leaned my back against the fine wooden paneling to wait. Despite Bastian closing the door, their voices traveled through it with ease.

  “Well?” Bastian barked without wasting an instant.

  “They’d already given it to the guardian,” Cadan said. “I didn’t get there in time.”

  Bastian loosed an ugly, gruff sound. “You are proving to be more and more useless every time I look at you.”

  “I went to the village you instructed me to, but it was too late. They’d already cleared out.”

  “So the blame is mine, you’re saying?”

  Cadan was silent.

  “Did you search every building?” Bastian asked. “Every house?”

  “I questioned every villager. They knew nothing and they were punished for their ignorance.”

  My blood ran cold, but my heart wanted to second-guess Cadan’s claim. I couldn’t see him doing such a thing.

  “Perhaps I should punish you for yours as well.” The malice in Bastian’s tone made me much more certain of his conviction than I was of Cadan’s. “I can’t believe you let them give the book to a relic guardian. You have no idea how powerful they are, or how hard they are to kill.”

  “The souls I reaped in your name should atone for my failure,” Cadan replied after some time.

  “You’d need to reap the whole of Europe to atone for your failures. Just go.”

  Cadan emerged from the room, his features grim. He headed past me for the front door, but I caught his arm, halting him.

  “For one so voracious,” I said in a very low voice, “you dine quite neatly. Almost undetectably.”

  He stared at me and I did not balk beneath his gaze. He knew that he may have fooled Bastian, but he didn’t fool me. Bastian was too arrogant to even consider that his subordinates, those I was growing to understand he intentionally made to fear him, would lie to him. He was that confident, that proud.

  Cadan exhaled, softened, and gave me a desperate, pleading look. He was begging me not to say anything. Of course I wouldn’t. In return, I smiled gently at him and touched his arm to reassure him. The gesture seemed to surprise him and he looked down at my hand. He ruffled, confused and flustered, and hurried from the house and out into the night. I watched him shut the door behind him, unable to help the concern I felt for him tighten on my heart. When had he last felt a gentle touch? Kindness shouldn’t shake him like it just had.