Night's End (13 page)

For once, I met the vampire's gaze, and—even though I didn't want to admit it—the thought of his touch appealed to me. The more stressed I was, the more I welcomed his slam-bam attitude. My darker nature hid in the shadow of worry and regret, and when the gloom grew thick, it came out to play.

Kaylin glanced from Lannan to me but only said, “Not long, though it will be harsh and penetrating. They will wake with the full knowledge of what I've done. I'm prepared for their anger, as should you be. This is a deliberate mind-fuck, Cicely. I agreed because it truly is the best option in the situation, but even my demon is squeamish at the intrusion. And it's hard to make a night-veil demon squeamish.”

I patted him on the shoulder. “Yeah, I know. Just . . . go. Do what needs to be done. We'll deal with the aftermath when we get there.”

Kaylin followed Lannan out the door. As it closed behind him, I turned back to Regina. “I don't know what my grandfather will be able to do, but I'll let you know as soon as he contacts me.”

I didn't want to sit around waiting, but there wasn't much else we could do. We couldn't just head out in the streets looking for a fight. And once I knew for sure that the others were on our side, we could start to plot our course of action. I wandered over to the window again. Rhia had taken her seat next to Chatter, and they were holding hands, softly whispering. Watching them, I wondered how she'd ever let herself get involved with Leo. He'd been so wrong for her.

Chatter leaned over, softly nuzzling her ear, and their connection was so tangible it was hard to ignore. Did Grieve and I look like that? Did my pull toward Lannan interfere with us, or did it simply exist in a different light? I didn't love Lannan, and I never would. Grieve was my heart. He was my center. Lannan fed the darker side of me, the side that I didn't want Grieve to go near. If Grieve stepped into those shadows, then my rock would vanish, and I would be fully swallowed up by the abyss. Lannan allowed me to be vulnerable with Grieve.

The snow continued to fall in the growing dusk, and it called to me. I wanted to be out in the chill and gloom. I turned back to Regina. “I need to go outside for a breath of fresh air. Will it be safe?”

She considered, then nodded. “The French doors will lead you to the patio. Feel free to walk out on the veranda for a bit. No one will harm you here. Not unless they launch a full-scale attack, and then war would be upon us all, and no one would be safe.”

I motioned for Grieve to stay where he was. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. As I stepped out into the chill night air, the winter braced me up and quickened my blood. I straightened my shoulders and shook back my hair. How fast this transformation had changed me. And how much I'd taken to it.

I walked atop the drifts, gliding over the crust that had formed on the surface. The air caught me short. Not nearly as cold as it was back in the realm of Snow and Ice, it was still harsh and austere. A snowflake fell into my mouth and landed on my tongue, but it did not melt.

The patio—or veranda—extended some fifteen feet out from the mansion and was surrounded by a low stone wall, high enough to sit on but not so high that it impeded vision or could easily conceal someone crouching behind it. I wandered over to the edge, staring out into the wintry darkness.

Guards were patrolling the compound, and more would be making the rounds, watching over the perimeters of the land. They were vampires, all of them. During the day the Vampire Nation had to rely on their day-runners—not nearly as powerful but almost always loyal without question. Though, after the incident with Crawl and Geoffrey, I had a feeling that all the day-runners would be under scrutiny as well.

I passed the wall and walked out onto the lawn, the full brunt of the snowstorm landing on my cloak. The owl feathers softly wafted in the breeze, and as I stared up into the sky, the barren trees loomed overhead, black silhouettes against the silvery night. In one of the trees perched an owl, and I recognized it immediately. Hunter. My grandfather.

He flew down, circling to land on a nearby bush. The bough bent under his weight, and within seconds, he stood there, a pale glow against the night. He was wearing soft white leather buckskins and a matching tunic, and a pendant around his neck emanated a silver light. It looked to be moonstone, though it was surrounded by a black onyx ring of stone. Hunter's hair was caught back in a ponytail. Something inside quivered.

Blood recognizes blood.

At first I thought Ulean had spoken, but then remembered she was not allowed within the compound. Vampires didn't like the magical creatures—Wind Elementals could read a vamp's thoughts, where most of the magic-born couldn't. And vampires couldn't sense them very easily. So they banned them from the premises, and we respected their wishes.

“No, I spoke to you.” Hunter took a step toward me. “You are my blood, even with being half-breed. My blood sings when you are near, as it did with your father. As it does with all of my children, and their children.”

There were so many things I wanted to ask, so much to learn. But I'd come to learn one lesson as Queen—patience. Even though I hated waiting, I'd learned that there was an order to all things, and trying to hurry them up didn't work.

I smiled and held out my hand. I wanted to reassure myself he was real. Hunter seemed to understand—he took my fingers in his and drew me out fully under the blowing gusts. We stood there a moment, listening to the soft hiss as snow met snow. There was music in the fall of the flakes, hard to hear unless I listened for it, but it was there, and the song was melancholy and haunting.

After a moment, Hunter turned his face from the sky to me. “I have sent my men out into the woods and the fields. We are searching for the lair of the Indigo Court. We will find it, know this.”

His words inspired confidence, and I nodded, as certain as he was. “Do you miss Wrath?” I asked, wondering why that was my first question to him, and yet it seemed fitting. He had lost his son, first to the Court of Rivers and Rushes, and now back to the Golden Isle.

Hunter pressed his lips together, and for a moment, I thought he wasn't going to answer. Then he placed a light hand on my shoulder. A flicker of remembrance and recognition ran through me. I gathered it close, cherishing the feeling. It felt like . . .
family
.

“Your father left home so long ago. I have seen him, of course, and we talked and we flew together. But he followed his heart into Summer, and I could not go there—Summer is not my realm, and I had no desire to cross over. His mother died long ago. Some might say her heart was broken when her son turned his back on the Winter, but I know better.”

Wrapped in his words as though they were a cloak, I could only ask, “How did she die?”

“Your grandmother died of disappointment. She died because I could not love her like she needed. I'm a hunter, Cicely. I carry my emotions in check. I'm a hunter, and I cannot allow myself to feel too deeply about anything or I will disrupt the objectivity I need in order to carry forth my duties. I could not love her enough, and it destroyed her, in the end. She stayed in owl form one day, and by sundown, she swept too close to a wolf, and he caught her. She engineered her death, but she did so on her own terms.”

He sounded sad, as if recounting a ballad from a lifetime back. But when I glanced at his face, there were no tears, no wincing grimace. Just a calm, serene nature that might be mistaken for coldness.

“What was her name?” I needed to know. I needed to understand her better. She'd loved him too much, and she'd paid the price.

“Her name? When she was born, the seers took one look at her and whispered her name to her parents. They didn't need time to confer. They didn't need a consultation. Instantly, they knew that her name was Loss.” Hunter let out a slow sigh. “I will try to have more information for you about the Shadow Hunters by tomorrow. I cannot promise, but we are doing what we can.” And then, before I could say another word, he turned back into an owl and flew away, and I was standing alone.

Or at least, I thought I was alone. As I hugged myself, watching my grandfather vanish into the air, a low, sensuous voice slithered over me.

“Oh, sweet Cicely. You have too much pain in your life.”

I whirled around to find myself staring at Lannan. He was watching me, his hair a nimbus that fell softly around his shoulders. I caught my breath, not wanting to look at him. Not wanting to react the way my body reacted. But my blood quickened despite myself, and my hunger for his touch grew.

“I have no more pain than many others . . . and less than some.” I stayed where I was, not trusting myself to be within arm's reach. Lannan wouldn't drink me down, and now that I was Queen, he wouldn't humiliate me either—not without my permission. But he could make me want him. He could brush my cheek with his fingers, and I'd be a quivering mess.

“Kaylin is with the others, finishing up. What do you think their reactions will be, Cicely? What do you think they'll do now that they know you've ordered their minds raped so violently? And how will they react to the night-veil? You gave them no choice.” He lingered over the words, and I could hear the pleasure he felt in saying them. “You are beginning to understand the nature of power, and you revel in it.”

And then he was next to me, leaning down, staring at me with those deep, obsidian eyes that glistened like dark diamonds in the night. There was no life in him, no pulse racing through his body. His heart did not beat, nor did he take breath. And yet . . . and yet . . . Lannan was perhaps more alive than anyone I knew. He glorified his hedonistic lust; he exulted in it, bathed in the pleasure and pain that he caused others. There was no quarter with Lannan. I knew exactly where I stood with him, and that knowledge both thrilled and terrified me.

“I am not your toy.” I wanted to step away, but that would be giving him power, and I wasn't willing to acknowledge that he could make me flinch. I'd done too much flinching at his feet.

He grabbed my wrist. “Queen you may be. But I know you, Cicely. You belong in my world—vampire or not. You're one of a kind with Regina and me. You just haven't acknowledged the depths to which you're willing to dive. You teeter on the edge, playing with fire, coaxing the flames and then running from them. But you forget, I've seen you wanton. I've seen you abandon yourself in my arms, in my bed. I've seen your dark side, and I answered the call. You can never shut the door on me again.”

I stared at his hand. I'd thought myself free from him. I'd thought that once I'd let him fuck me, I could walk away unmoved. And I had, for a few weeks. But now, tonight, under the snow, with him so near, I felt the pull of his intoxication. I felt the drive to abandon everything and throw myself into his arms. To drag him down on the ground until the world with all its cares vanished in a puff of mist and smoke.

“You can't resist me, and you know it. Run with me, let me bring you into my world. It doesn't have to be like Geoffrey and Myst. I'm not asking you to rule the world by my side—I have no interest in so much responsibility. We can blaze through the nights. Regina would welcome you into our relationship. She likes you.” Lannan's words coiled around me, all too tempting. Even the thought of Regina—she was luscious, with her perfect ruby lips and long, curvy legs. She had kissed me before, unnerving me with desire.

But . . . but . . .

“I can't do this, Lannan. I can't let you keep creeping in. I am married to Grieve, and while he understands our connection, he hates it. We both owe you a favor, given you saved my life. But I'm not leaving my post. I'm not turning my back on my people. They need me. And Myst—she's out there, waiting. She's coming for me. I can't just run away and leave New Forest to her. I can't run away and leave my world behind.”

My heart ached. I loved Grieve; he was my passion and joy, but Lannan called to my shadow self, and right now, here in the snow, I wanted him. So help me, I wanted him even without the Blood Fever driving me, and that scared me more than anything.

“You think this now. But when you are facing the mad Queen, then tell me that you're still willing to sacrifice yourself for your people. Wait till she has her hands around your throat, and her horrible jaw unhinges as she begins to eat you, gristle and bone, while you still live. You were her daughter,
Cherish
. You were her betrayer. She will never let you die easily. Enjoy what life you can now, for the end will be painful and racking.”

I struggled to get out of his grasp, starting to panic. Lannan was good at painting a terrifying view of the future, and the feeling that Myst was watching us and laughing raced through my thoughts. Was Lannan her spy? Was she using him to get to me? He seemed to tower over, looming like a dark shadow against the snow.

“Let me go! Let me go, please!” I managed to break free and, panting, stared at him as I backed away into the snow. “Are you her spy? Are you her eyes and ears? Somebody is, and until I find out who, I can't trust anyone. I won't let her win. Do you hear me? If you are her mouthpiece, you turn around and tell her just that. I'll fight till the end. I'll destroy her.”

And then I fell to my knees in the snow and began to cry, overwhelmed with everything.

Lannan pulled back. He stared at me, an odd mixture of emotions crossing his face. Another moment, and he knelt beside me, pulling me into his arms.

“Hush, hush, Cicely. I am not in Myst's pocket. No one owns me, no one controls me. I answer to the Crimson Queen, but only as much as I must. I am neither Myst's shadow nor her puppet. Come to me, feed me your pain. Feed me your anger and your fear.”

As he spoke, he pressed his lips against mine, and then, his tongue playing over mine, his death chill met my own cold, and I kissed him, deep and dark, falling into the icy fire that sparked between us, letting him drag me under as I gave up my fear to him.