Prince of Shadows (8 page)

“Why the hell not? Is he hurt?”

“Not exactly, well, sorta.”

“Not exactly, well sorta?” she repeated. Damn, her chest was feeling tight; didn't stop her from raising her voice though. “What the hell does that mean?”

“His mate died last week.”

“Last week,” she repeated him again, as if she were having trouble with the words penetrating her obtuse skull.

“Ten days ago to be exact.”

Gabby's blood went cold. Ten days. That would be right after Annie and the boys had broken into Haven. Gabby had been pissed over the girl going behind everyone's back to deliver her message, but secretly she was also glad. Logan had always been nice to her. He'd also been the only one to stand beside her father when he'd been expelled from the Paladin order. Logan didn't deserve to be punished with the loss of his mate. Yeah, life in general sucked. Nothing was fair, but this? Logan had been nothing but faithful in his belief in the Paladin mission of eradicating evil, further proving his honor by his loyalty to his friends.

And
look
where
it
got
him.

Gabby shook her head, swallowing back the lump in her throat. Better to take what you want. Even if, for her, all she wanted was revenge. For her. For her daddy. For all the stupid naïve humans affected by this war. And now for Logan too.

“Excuse me,” she said, easing her hand from Valin's grip. “I need to be alone.” And for once, Valin didn't follow her, though damn it, wouldn't you know that this one time she wished he would.

***

The doors banged open. Ganelon looked up from his perch on the chaise lounge chair at the back of the covens' entry hall in time to see Christos stride in, his pretty new face a thundercloud as he shouted orders left and right.

“I want a meeting in the dining hall now! And I want that worthless excuse for my second laid out on the table before me. And why is it so fucking cold in here? You couldn't light a goddamn fire?”

His orders weren't met with the immediate obedience he probably expected, but rather a collective response of hisses and curses as the daylight speared into the dark, and yes, rather chilly interior. A few moments of chaos ensued as any vampire in the area scrambled to get out of range of the deadly rays. Ganelon sat unmoving, admittedly thankful for the warmth of the sun—even if it did make him have something in common with the idiot fuming his way across the grand entry hall.

“Stupid weaklings.” Christos shook his head as he stomped his way across the black marble tiles. It wasn't until he had practically passed by that he caught sight of Ganelon and drew up short. “What the fuck? Who let him in?”

When no one answered—probably because no one was there to answer—Christos planted his hands on his hips and glared down at Ganelon. “Well?”

“Tired of being back in charge already?” Ganelon asked Christos, nodding pointedly at the doors that he'd left open during his rampage.

Christos grunted. A moment later a human lamb rushed in and slammed the door closed, cutting off Ganelon's sun. Too bad.

“What are you doing here?” Christos directed the question at Ganelon this time.

Ganelon inspected his nails in the flickering gaslight, digging out some dried blood from his recent…persuasion…session. Christos huffed and Ganelon had to suppress a grin, secretly enjoying the waves of irritation coming off the vampire king. He drew the pause out as long as he deemed necessary to reestablish his superiority, but not so long that he'd drastically increase the amount of time he'd have to suffer being here. Though frankly, anything over nothing was too long.

Ganelon ground his teeth, chafing at the orders that had made his presence here necessary. How was it that Lucifer actually believed this idiot would be instrumental in bringing about the Paladins' demise? Christos was not suited for the subtleness the task required. Besides, a one-line prophecy made years ago about some child conceived of light and born in darkness being the key to breaching the worlds did not necessarily mean the destruction of His warriors, Lucifer's sworn enemies.

“The liege lord sent me,” Ganelon said, flicking the loosened blood from his nails onto the floor. “He wanted me to make sure you didn't need anything.”

Christos scowled, not appreciating Lucifer's lack of confidence. At that moment, the lamb who'd closed the door made to scurry by them but stopped short when Christos turned his gaze on it, making it shiver in its shredded clothes. “Wine for me and my brother. You may tell Stephan that he's been granted a reprieve.”

The lamb nodded and bolted by. Doubtlessly glad the request was wine and not blood.

“Trouble on the home front?” Ganelon asked.

“My second is an incompetent fool. One task he set out to accomplish in the last four months while I've been gone and even that he screws up! How could he have not known about the girl?” He frowned, the skin around his eyes and nose pinching in anger. “At least he better not know about the girl.”

“Must be some girl. Where did you see her?” Ganelon asked, taking the glass of wine that the lamb had returned with. As soon as he'd clasped the cup, the lamb went rushing out again.

Christos sneered at the creature's fleeing back and then grunted, flopping down in a wing chair that flanked the chaise and propping his feet up on the end table. “In Brooklyn. By that Martyr's Ship Monument or something,” he added, waving his hand.

Ganelon blinked. “You were in a park? In Brooklyn?”

“I've been visiting the other covens in the surrounding areas. Putting to rest the rumors of my…demise.”

“But the park?”

“Antoine has a flair for the gothic. He found it amusing to convert a few key humans in order to build a hidden set of chambers while the crypts beneath the monument were being constructed.”

“How cliché.”

“Isn't it?” Christos shook his head, then sighed pensively. “She was walking with a fucking Paladin.”

“A Paladin?” Ganelon prompted, realizing they were back on the topic of the girl.

“At least I'm pretty sure he was. He was older, but he looked an awful lot like the adolescent brat that escaped the Oxford cleansing.”

Ganelon nodded, well aware of the incident Christos spoke of. It was one of those events that Lucifer had raved on and on about. How Christos, Lilith's son, had captured, tortured, and killed a half-dozen full-blooded Paladin and their part-blooded children. After Lilith's death, Christos had taken on her position as the vampire leader. He'd left a few of his mother's best men with a handful of vampires to hold Europe and Asia, but he'd taken the bulk of his coven here to America. That had been back in the 1800s, so the adolescent Paladin would be full grown by now. Still, Ganelon thought Christos should be able to tell for sure if it was the same man, unless, of course, Lucifer had been wrong in his belief that he'd managed to infuse Christos's new body with some of the sacrificed souls' gifts and talents.

“You could not tell for sure?” he asked, calmly sipping the wine. It would be poisoned, of course—Christos was ever the opportunist. But it didn't matter. First, his lovely genetics made him resistant to things that would kill a normal man, and second, he'd made a point of increasing his resistance further by building an immunity to such things.

He shook his head, a growl rumbling in his chest. “The damn girl. She must have been a null. I could sense nothing from her!” He pounded the table. “I couldn't even sense that half-wit Paladin and I was practically on top of them both before I noticed them.”

Ganelon tapped the table, his heart racing in concert as he thought about the possibilities…assuming Christos was actually correct, which was a big assumption, given the vampire's track record. “Being able to nullify the magic in one's surroundings is a pretty powerful gift. Something more than I thought a mixed-blood human could achieve.”

Christos shook his head. “If there is one thing my second did right in my absence it was hunting down the part-breeds. There is a whole crowd of them with some pretty impressive gifts. He suspects they've even started their own recruitment methods and are creating a little army of gifted soldiers.”

“And you think you saw one of them today with a Paladin.”

“I know I saw one. You don't create that sort of energy vacuum around yourself without being a null.”

Ganelon rubbed his chin. “So it's possible they've joined with the Paladin, then. If this…man…is who you think he is.”

“I would bet my second's head on it.”

“But not your own?”

Christos shrugged, a sly smile twisting his lips. “I'm a big believer in delegation.”

“Hmmm.” Ganelon used to think that way too. He was learning lately that allowing minions to do the important work wasn't always a good idea. At least not without a heavy hand leading them. He was still pissed over the failure in his last endeavor. He hadn't gotten the key that would allow him to infiltrate Haven. What's more, Logan was being stubbornly stoic in his grief and that stubbornness seemed to be his anchor for his sanity. Calhoun Junior hadn't fallen yet. Ganelon was really kind of pissed at that. He'd expected the Paladin to go on a rampage within hours, if not days, of his mate's demise. But it had been almost ten now and all the big bastard was doing was sulking.

Should have killed him. That would have been the best way to stick it to the Calhouns.

Luckily he had someone to take his frustrations out on. His wayward son Damon was proving to be a willful bastard and Ganelon was enjoying reminding him of what proper deference meant. When Ganelon finished with him he figured his son would either have regained his place as dutiful minion or not. And if not? Well, the liege lord always had souls that he was hoping to resurrect.

“They headed for the subway, but I got the impression that was a change in plans. It's likely that their base is there near that park,” Christos said, though he appeared to be mulling things over rather than speaking to Ganelon. Still, Ganelon didn't want to appear unhelpful, not when Christos would probably go and whine to Lucifer about his lack of assistance.

“Do you need my services to help you locate it?”

Christos curled back his lip, flashing fang. “I am perfectly capable of handling a bunch of wannabes.”

“All right then. You know how to reach me if you change your mind.” Ganelon stood, smiling as he offered his hand to Christos. Christos glanced down at it in disgust but ended up taking it. “Take care, brother. May your hunting meet with great success.”

“No worries…brother.” Christos's pupils flashed fire as he met Ganelon's gaze. “I'm quite sure it will.”

Ganelon nodded, taking his hand back and rubbing it on his pants before he made his way out of the room. A lamb rushed ahead of him to open the great wooden doors, just enough for him to slip through. The warm sun greeted him with enthusiasm, and damn if it didn't feel brighter today than normal.

Turned out his visit with Christos had been the pick-me-up he needed. He would, of course, send his own scouts in, but in the end he'd let Christos call the shots on this. It wasn't like Lucifer could find fault with what Ganelon was doing either. The liege lord had made it perfectly clear to Ganelon that he was to treat Christos as an equal, and so Ganelon had. He'd reached out and welcomed his brother back, even offered his aid, and Christos had refused, which suited Ganelon just fine. Let Christos soil his own bed with another screwup. It was just the sort of thing Ganelon needed to shore up the foundations of his status with the liege lord. And then, after, he'd be there to collect the bounty. Oh, yes, that null was going to be very useful indeed.

Should have followed her. The assumption that Gabby wouldn't try to slip out until the sun went down had been a stupid one on his part. When she'd headed back into the base after claiming she wanted to be alone, Valin had thought to allow her a moment and take care of some other business while she was safe—and most likely sleeping—in her room. That's what vampires did, after all: sleep during the day. But Gabby wasn't beholden to such necessities anymore. And though she'd spent most of yesterday doing just that, he shouldn't have assumed she'd do so again.

With his options dwindled to trying to hunt her down again or trusting that she'd return, he'd decided to show some faith and spent the day making plans. Plans that started with buttering up the other recruits in the base and making nice with some of the more established soldiers in hopes of learning what sort of strategy might get him in Jacob's good graces. Not that he really gave a crap what the tight-ass thought of him, but he figured he should make the effort. Gabby might not want his blood—or anything else to do with him, for that matter—but if he were to become a standard fixture in her life she might just start to relax around him, at least long enough for him to infiltrate her defenses.

And that was working out so well too. Hard to become a standard fixture when she wasn't there.

Valin took a deep breath, concentrating on stretching his awareness on another sweep of the area around them. Nothing. Not a hint of an evil presence in a ten-block area. Which meant there wasn't a hint of Gabby either. Not that he'd expected her to be nearby, but when the day had worn down and he'd agreed to Jacob's suggestion of a little patrol to get a feel of his and Bennett's skills, Valin supposed he'd been harboring some sort of hope he might find her.

He frowned, thinking of the dark stain on Gabby's soul and his little foot-in-mouth routine that morning. He'd called her a merker. And though he hadn't really put much thought behind her heritage, he realized that he had, in fact, assumed she was at least partially one. From the little he'd gathered from Roland and Logan, Gabby's mother had been a highly ambitious sort when it came to rising up the ranks of Lucifer's army. Valin had just assumed that someone who was willing to trade her daughter's life to gain the good graces of the vampire's leader would have been more than happy to spread her legs for one of the more powerful merkers out there, if not Ganelon himself. But thinking of his current batting average, Valin now realized that might have been yet another bad assumption.

He hadn't met a merker yet that didn't have a stain of evil. And before Gabby had pulled her disappearing act in that mine, her soul had been about as pure as new-fallen snow. Okay, maybe not quite—there had been some real roughness about the edges—but where it counted there had not been anything intrinsically evil to it. Was his guess on her heritage really that off? Valin wouldn't care either way. The only thing that he actually cared about was how that stain had gotten there—and how to get rid of it.

Merker blood or not, she certainly wasn't tapping into her succubus heritage. Granted, he hadn't gotten that much time to observe her, but it was enough to see she made a point to suppress her natural seductive powers. Not that it seemed to put a dent in Aaron's little puppy dog interest. He was still trying to worm his way into her presence at every opportunity, and the drop-dead glances he reserved for Valin were becoming hard for even Valin—who didn't give a shit—to ignore. Only reason Valin hadn't bloodied him up yet was that Gabby hadn't reacted at all to his less-than-stellar advances. He better fucking watch it, though.

He glanced over his shoulder to where Aaron was bringing up the rear with Bennett…and received a dagger-eyed glare for his trouble.

Beside him Jacob cleared his throat. “Remind me in the future not to place you two on any patrol shifts together.”

Valin raised his brow. “Does this mean we pass?” He figured the only reason Jacob had let them come out tonight was not so much to “get a feel” for their skill level but because the man wanted to test them and see where their loyalties lie.

“Not yet, but so far so good. And if you and Aaron both make it back without bloodied noses—or worse—I think we can consider this a success.”

“Wonderful,” Valin drawled and received an inquisitive look from Jacob. “Good to know you trust me.”

Jacob chuckled. “Hell no, I don't trust you. But I do trust in your nature.”

“And what is my nature?”

“To protect your mate. Which is why I'm going to reiterate to my brother that he needs to back the hell off you and Gabriella.”

Valin felt like the air had been sucked out from around him. For a moment all he could do was blink at Jacob—as if clearing his eyes would reveal a two-headed demon rather than the soldier that walked beside him.

Jacob cocked his brow. “The hovering around her all the time, the I'll-kill-you glare you give any man that comes near…that crazed look in your eyes whenever you don't know where she is? You're not going to tell me I'm wrong, are you?”

Valin blew out a breath and nodded. “You're not wrong.”

“Then why are you so surprised? You don't think I would try and spare my brother the heartache if I can?”

“No, I'm just surprised you know about the mate bond.” The mate bond was a once in a lifetime kind of thing for a Paladin. Beyond silly notions of true love, kindred spirits, or even a human's idea of soul mates, it was a bond between two souls that was designed by the Big Guy Himself. The original angelic volunteers who'd come to earth to pick up weapons against the fallen Lucifer's evil hordes had thought it their reward for the sacrifice they'd had to make to take up those arms—the peace and completeness a Paladin received from the mate bond being the balm for a soul that had been rendered incomplete at the removal of its wings. But as more time passed and less mate bonds were forged, the golden glow of that idea faded as newer generations of warriors were forced to search out compatibility pairings in order to ensure the continuity of their order. In fact, most of the Paladin alive today had never found their mates. And when they did? Well, look at what happened to Logan.

Jacob heaved a large sigh, shifting the belt of ammo strapped over his shoulder under his trench coat. Valin wondered briefly if the man wore the coat in the hot summer months too, and if not, how he hid the virtual warehouse of weapons he toted around from the general public.

“My parents were mated,” Jacob said, causing Valin to do the blinky-blinky headlight thing again. “Oh, they didn't call it a bond, just soul mates. My father told me it was far more than simple love. I always thought it was kinda kooky until Mother died. He died a week later. Stupid thing, really; picked a fight with one of those half-demon creatures. I think he knew he wasn't going to come out of it alive and I think he was glad for it.”

Valin nodded, swallowing the jagged shard of lead that seemed to have magically appeared in his throat. “It's common, actually. The loss of a bond mate has been known to drive the remaining mate to insanity. Especially if they feel like the other's death could have been prevented.”

“Prevented by them, you mean.”

Valin nodded again, not even able to respond this time. If he hadn't been off skipping around the shade that night…if he had kept a tether open rather than clamping tight on his shields…

Jacob frowned, studying him. “Is there only ever one soul mate, or can a Paladin move on?”

Valin took a deep breath, pushing away the what-ifs. Even if Angeline had been able to reach him in her need, it was unlikely he would have gotten there in time. “A Paladin can live if his will is strong enough, but not move on,” he answered, surprised at how calm and even his voice came out. Though it must have been too even, too measured, because Jacob was staring at him knowingly.

He gave a barely perceptible shake of his head.
Don't ask. Don't make me relive that.

Jacob frowned, coming to a complete stop under a flickering lamppost. “You've lost someone.”

Not a question, but a statement, and one that had the other man obviously struggling to fit in with the little he thought he knew of mate bonds and what Valin had just supposedly confirmed about his feelings for Gabriella.

Valin turned to look at him, well aware of the fact that Bennett and Aaron had drawn close enough to hear. Didn't matter. Bennett already knew and Aaron, well, right now he didn't give much of a fuck about that prick.

“I lost my pair bond. She was my best friend and we were compatible enough to be given His blessing and form a pairing.” He swallowed, looking forward. “However, I was not blessed enough to share her life for more than a few years.” And never Peanut's. He'd never get to hold his unborn child.

“Valin?”

He sensed more than saw Bennett come up beside him, his hand hovering awkwardly above his shoulder. Valin shook his head, stepping away from the Paladin's offer of support. It was too fucking close to comfort and might very well break the dam on the grief that he'd shored up so very long ago.

“I thought we were on patrol,” he snapped as he spun around and stalked toward the next intersection, the other three falling in line. Their silence was so thick that the flapping wings of a pigeon taking off from the roof of the boarded-up building beside them had him practically jumping out of his skin.

Stupid. How long had he stood there pouring out his heart and opening old wounds? More important, why had he let Jacob peel back those scabs? He rolled his shoulders, closing his eyes briefly as he sent out his consciousness for another sweep. What trickled across his senses had his muscles tensing into hard knots. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Jacob asked, his hand shifting into the folds of his trench coat.

No need to answer when two merkers rounded the corner less than ten feet ahead of them. Unfortunately they weren't the only ones who'd just pinged on his radar.

<>
he yelled, hoping the projective blast would distract the merker enough to make him hesitate. But it was too late. That was a pyrotechnic merker back there, and this time hell had come from above.

***

Gabby fought for breath, her knees buckling as she reached out for something to catch herself on. Nothing was there. She stumbled to the sidewalk as the blast of Valin's projection wrenched through her mind, tearing at both her shields and her grasp on consciousness. For five long seconds she battled the pounding wave of fear and alarm that rolled in like a tsunami after the initial stab of contact, concentrating instead on the gritty feel of the cement beneath her fingertips. Couldn't think. Couldn't breathe!

Finally she was able to gasp in air. For once, the sweet ache of gas fumes and rotting trash filling her lungs was a welcome sensation, as was the fact that she was alone in her mind once more to enjoy the return to her own reality and the comforting blanket of her shields snapping back in place. That is, it was reassuring until she realized that she had no fucking idea what had happened.

Holy crap, Valin packed a powerful punch. How had he breached her shields like that? Why had she caught the thought that had obviously been meant for someone else? And how the heck had he managed to project what he was feeling along with the thought?

Gabby wasn't an empathic. Nor was Valin. And projective thought did not convey that level of emotions. Not that she cared about the how right now; what was important was the thought and emotions themselves. Alarm. Fear. For who? Bennett? Or was that fear possibly for himself?

She sucked in a breath, the cool air chilling the sweat that had beaded out on her exposed skin. Whoever the fear had been for, someone was in danger. Given the power behind the projection, they couldn't be that far away, which meant she was most likely the closest one to providing aid.

Flat-out ignoring the street bum staring at her from his hidey hole in an alcove across the way, she pushed herself up and broke into a run. The residual throbbing in her head made the pounding pace difficult, but with each stride she found an inner strength that pushed her forward faster.

Not
far. Can't be far. Two, maybe three, streets over?

A scream cut through the air, her gut tightening and twisting at the grating scrape of pure agony. Definitely not far, but more north than east. Ducking between two badly parked hunks of junk, she cut across the street, aiming for the narrow delivery entrance across the way. She knew from patrolling these streets for the last few months that it backed up against the brick wall of the building behind it, but the building itself was only a few stories high, had lots of hand and footholds in it, and conveniently sat across from an even shorter building.

Without thought to who else besides the bum might be around, she gathered her muscles and leapt for the narrow ledge framing a second-story window. It took her longer than she wanted to scale the building, but the wasted time was easily made up when she sprinted across the rubber roofline, grasped onto the brick lip on the far side, and pushed off, drawing on her supernatural strength and the willpower of desperation.

The street flashed beneath her—a streetlamp, a couple scurrying pedestrians in dark hoodies furtively heading in opposite directions, an idling car with its lights off down at the corner—and then she was landing, the impact forcing her down onto all fours as she fought to keep moving forward. This roof wasn't as well cared for, the cracked rubber pitted and covered with a skin-abrading combo of tar and fine asphalt. Ignoring the sting, she went into a tuck, rolling up into a crouch, then spun around a rotating vent that popped up in her way, only to come up against the short lip of the backside of the building. Unfortunately, this is where her shortcut ended. Grasping onto the edge, she vaulted over, dropping down onto the sidewalk below with a teeth-rattling jar.