Blood Shadows (42 page)

She studied his face thoughtfully, as if measuring his sincerity, and then she slowly smiled. “I know that. I do.”

“Do you?” he asked, arching his brows.

She nodded. “I think so.”

He took her hand in his, hoping to convey the depth of his sincerity. “I hope so,” he said, “because it’s very important to me that you know that
I get it
. That I understand.”

She met his gaze with interest. “Get what?”

He squeezed her hand. “I get that your life has been turned upside down, and I do understand how many sacrifices you’ve made—are still making—for me. And I’d like to believe, at least to some extent, that I also
get
what kind of person you are.”

Her gaze lingered on his mouth, and he bent down to kiss her. When at last he pulled away, he sighed. “We
will
talk about everything, Deanna: Where we’re going to live—whether my brownstone is something that will work for us or not—your art, your friends, your life back in New Orleans—I do assume you have a job—and how we’re going to define our new life together going forward. I know that it has to reflect both of us equally: our choices, our needs, and desires.” He released her hand, leaned back, and considered his words carefully. “You have to understand: From my perspective, both as a male and a vampire, you are unequivocally mine, and I would never let you go”—he made a concerted effort to soften his voice—“but I do understand that you bring your own perspective to this mating, and we will find common ground. On everything.”

Deanna propped herself up on one elbow and turned toward him. “I’m glad that you see it that way.” Her voice was uncharacteristically serious. “The fact that you…respect my individuality…will save us a lot of grief.”

Nachari chuckled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He glanced at the door, feeling the unrelenting pull of his brothers tugging at his heart. “Rest for a minute then; and when I return, we will talk.” He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should say anything else right now…or wait…

“What is it?” Deanna asked, seeming to sense his reluctance.

He held her gaze. “There is one thing that is too important to treat…democratically. And perhaps it would be best for you to think about it while I’m gone.”

“Okay,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “I’m listening.”

“Sweetheart, we cut things very close last night, as you know. And that means I will have less than five minutes from the time the Dark Child is born to place him on the altar in the Chamber of Sacrifice and Atonement, to relinquish his body to the Blood—or I
will
be dead. There is no room for hesitation—or error—which means there is no time for processing, mine or yours. I
will
do what I have to do, no matter how it appears…or affects you: Do you understand?”

This time, it was Deanna who took his hand in hers. “I have a fairly high IQ, Wizard,” she said, meeting his intensity with a strength of her own. “And I do understand—I’ve already thought about it.” She softened her tone and smiled sympathetically. “Do you always worry so much?”

Nachari exhaled with relief. “Actually, I rarely worry at all—just ask our king.”

To his amusement, Deanna cringed. “Yeah, well, I’ll get right on that—maybe next millennia.” She chuckled lightheartedly. “In the meantime, go see your brothers.”

Nachari wrapped a gentle arm around her and pulled her to him. Kissing the top of her head, he said, “You are loved, Deanna…desperately, madly, deeply…even if you think it’s too soon.”

She momentarily lost her composure, then quickly regained it. “Now you stop…” He raised his eyebrows in question, and she simply shook her head. “It’s just…this is all so… overwhelming…that’s all.” Pushing against his chest, she added, “Go. Before they come in here.
Go.
”

Grateful beyond measure for her words and her kindness, Nachari rose from the bed and headed out the door.

Marquis, Nathaniel, and Kagen were waiting rather impatiently in Kagen’s office when Nachari sauntered through the door like it had been only days since he last saw them. Each one stood at attention, their eyes fixed on his, and as much as he had told himself that his emotions would not get the best of him, they did.

His shoulders nearly shook from the realization that he was actually standing among his brothers again.

Kagen approached him first. He crossed the room in three long strides and wrapped his heavy arms around him. “Brother,” he exhaled, as if he had been holding his breath for months, “I…I have no words.”

Nachari returned the embrace—it was not as if he could have broken the unyielding hold if he wanted to, which he didn’t. “Kagen,” Nachari whispered. “Thank you. I can only imagine what this time has been like for you.”

And just like that, Kagen’s floodgates broke loose. “You have no idea.” The memories seemed to converge, one after the other, all the things Kagen couldn’t express before now, all the burdens he had been forced to carry; and when he began to speak again, his words rolled off his tongue in an anxious, heartfelt litany: “I couldn’t bring you back. I couldn’t make it right. I couldn’t fix whatever was wrong. I don’t know…what I was doing…I didn’t know…I’m…I’m so sorry!”

Nachari choked back his emotion. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Kagen.” He pushed away from his brother and gripped him by both shoulders. “Look at me.” Kagen’s eyes were distant and so full of remorse that it nearly broke Nachari’s heart. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You…you suffered?” Kagen posed it as a question, but it was really a statement.

Nachari looked away. “It’s over.”

“Is it?” Marquis broke in. He stepped away from the wall in order to join Kagen and Nachari in the center of the room. “Are you…are you handling it?”

Nachari shook his head and looked down. “Time heals…” His words trailed off.

“We have to know…” Nathaniel spoke with deep emotion and compassion. “Whatever those demons put you through, we have to help…somehow.”

To his own dismay, Nachari started to shake. “Don’t ask, Nathaniel. Just don’t.” He swallowed hard and glanced away. “I can’t process it right now…maybe ever. It’s…too much.”

Marquis placed his hand on Nachari’s shoulder. “We all failed you, myself most of all. I should have never let you—”

“
Stop!
” Nachari said. His voice was sharp with insistence, nearly bordering on anger. “Just stop.” He threw his hands up in an unusual show of frustration. “My mind was made up, and you know it. Besides, this is not about you.” He stared at Marquis, Nathaniel, and Kagen, each brother in turn, in a rare demonstration of challenge. “It’s not about any of you, so let’s get one thing straight right now: We are not going to discuss who let me go; or who couldn’t bring me back; or who supported my decision to go after Napolean. That is all ancient history.” He knew that his words were uncharacteristically harsh and that he might even sound irrational, but there was so much his brothers just didn’t understand: so much horror and trepidation still bottled up inside.

So much confusion about who he was, what he had endured, and what he had done—while stranded in the Valley of Death and Shadows.

Until this moment, he hadn’t truly realized just how terrified he was that he might have sold his soul, become a monster.

Now, standing in the warm, accepting embrace of his brothers, it was like someone had held up a mirror, illuminated all of his own questions and confusion, and he simply wasn’t ready to gaze into the looking glass. “For as long as I can remember,” he said, “I’ve been the one that made it all okay—whatever
it
is—for the rest of us, the one that smoothed things over with a word or a joke, that offered an explanation, no matter how inane; but I can’t fix this for you guys this time—not and maintain my own sanity. I can’t really deal with your questions…” He turned to look at Marquis. “Or your regret…not right now.” He shrugged, unashamed to let his confusion show. “I’m sorry.”

Marquis looked utterly stunned and deeply troubled. “Nachari, we just want to know—”

“Know what?” he interrupted. “What do you want to know, brother?” He gave Marquis a halfhearted smile. “What they did to me? What I did while I was there?” He laughed, but the sound was completely devoid of humor. “No—you don’t. Trust me on that one.
You don’t
.” He wrapped his arms around his middle and stepped backward as if he could simply retreat from the conversation.

“Sometimes, imagination is worse than reality,” Nathaniel whispered thoughtfully. “Not knowing is a hell all its own.”

Nachari frowned sardonically. “How easily we throw that word around, brothers—
hell
. Well, I can assure you that nothing we think of as hell even comes close.” He let out a deep sigh, wishing his words would fall a little softer. “What do you want to hear, Nathaniel?” His tone was severe but still remained polite. “That I was brutalized, beaten, lashed, and even boiled? That I conjured spells from the Book of Black Magic, shared my essence with a demon to make her love me? That I
ate
the flesh of my enemy, or that I prayed for death…every day? Because I did, you know.
Every day
…until Deanna came. But the joke was on me—because death wouldn’t come.” He met his brothers’ horror-stricken gazes. “It wouldn’t come. And now that I’m back, all I can think about is the fact that there might be something so dark, so malignant, in my soul that I can’t even fathom its potential to cause harm to others.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, revealing his weariness. “How do you think I got out of there, Nathaniel? By telling jokes or making friends?” His head began to pound—which was unheard of for a vampire—and he slowly rubbed his temples in small, gentle circles. “I don’t even know what I am anymore—Vampyr or animal, wizard or sorcerer, good or evil—or something in between.” He sighed. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to adjust back to a life without agony and brutality as its staples—without evil as its core. And, honestly, what does that say about me?”

“It says that you’re strong and resourceful,” Marquis responded without hesitation. “It says that you’re a powerful Master Wizard and a formidable enemy.”

Nachari nodded, more in appreciation than agreement. “Perhaps, brother. Perhaps. All I know is that there is a woman down the hall who is carrying my son—a child that needs a healthy and stable father—and somehow, I have to try to figure this out, to grasp at proverbial straws if necessary, to make that happen….for her. For Deanna. So, please, don’t ask me to make it happen for you, too. To connect the dots or smooth it out…or make it okay. Because I can’t; and it’s not. And I’m just doing my best to breathe from one moment to the next.” Truly feeling breathless, he stood before them feeling more naked and vulnerable than he had ever felt before, a part of him wishing he could just retreat inside of himself and live like a hermit for the rest of his days.

“You don’t have to fix anything,” Kagen said quietly. “But as to your questions about light and goodness…the purity of your soul. Grapple with them if you must, but don’t expect us to join you. You and Shelby were born with two of the purest souls I’ve ever known.”

Nathaniel stepped forward and placed a steadying hand on Nachari’s shoulder. “Brother, you are not wicked—not in your soul. Such a thing could never even happen—like attracts like. Evil seeks after its own kind. The vibrations would never match.
You survived
. And that is all.”

When Nachari inadvertently dropped his shoulder from beneath Nathaniel’s hand and tried to step away, Nathaniel took a calculated step forward and blocked his path. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Nachari shrugged, feeling slightly overwhelmed and more than a little trapped. His brothers meant well, but they truly didn’t understand the depth of the turmoil inside of him.

Kagen chimed in stubbornly. “You’re not alone, Nachari, not anymore. And we aren’t going to let you retreat into yourself behind this.”

Nachari didn’t know if he should thank them or curse them, but one thing was for sure: They weren’t backing off anytime soon.

“That woman down the hall let you into her life, her soul, her body—even after everything she witnessed with that demon,” Kagen continued. “And do you know why? Because somewhere deep inside, she recognized your soul. She knows who you are. What you are. Just as we do. Forgive us if we sound dismissive or insensitive, but you don’t get to dismiss her judgment—and ours—quite that easily.”

Marquis waved a glib hand through the air as if to say,
There
will be no
further
debate
on this matter
. “You will not bear this alone,” he declared in his usual matter-of-fact style. “That is all there is to it.” He paused to consider his next words. “We will suffer together, heal together, or go up in flames together. But you will not bear this alone.”

Moved by the weight of all he was feeling—and hearing—Nachari sank to his knees.
Dear gods, where was all this emotion coming from?

In an uncommon act of gentleness, Marquis knelt down before him, reached out to cup his head in a giant hand, and cradled it against his shoulder, much like he would a baby. “Give it time, Nachari. You just got back. We are with you. We believe in you more than you know.” In a forced, lighthearted voice, he added, “Maybe you are the one who needs therapy now, yes?”