Pure Magic (Black Dog Book 3) (41 page)

“Hope is cruel, but still preferable to unquestionable loss,” said the Dimilioc Master, gently. “I shall hope with you that your sister escaped and may in time make her way here to us.”

Nicholas nodded, speechless.

Grayson held out a hand toward him, and the boy got to his feet, went to him, and knelt again to kiss the Master’s hand. Grayson allowed it, then lifted him up once more. “You are welcome. You are home, and safe. Go in. My nephew Ethan will show you the rooms from which you may choose.”

Once Nicholas had gone, Grayson turned to Alejandro. “I was most alarmed when you vanished. I am very glad to see you well and returned.”

Alejandro nodded. He glanced sideways at Natividad, then said, “Master. I hope I was right, to take Valentin, when I knew I would go into the dark . . .”

Grayson lifted one eyebrow. “Indeed. That was well done. You created great consternation for Zinaida Alexandrovna and among her black wolves. I am very glad you acted so decisively in such an unprecedented crisis, or we might have had a significantly more difficult battle. As it is, though we will no doubt see Zinaida Alexandrovna again, I think we need not concern ourselves about her for the next little while.”

Alejandro stood up a little straighter, though he did not quite smile. At the lift of the Master’s hand, he went quickly up the steps, but he did not kneel or bow or kiss Grayson’s hand. He only turned his head to the side for a moment, symbolically offering the Master his throat. Then he moved aside to wait.

Grayson turned to Justin, who braced himself, he hoped not visibly. But Grayson said only, “I am glad to see you well and returned as well. Do you mean to stay, this time?” His tone was . . . quiet. But beneath that quiet, grim depths were perceptible.

Justin took a deep breath. “I don’t know, sir. But I’m sorry I left the way I did, before. I had no idea. Of what we . . . what the Pure are, what we do. Of how important it is. That’s not much of an excuse, because you did tell me. I just didn’t know how to hear you.”

The Dimilioc Master inclined his head a minute degree. “You undoubtedly learned a great deal from your experience. I trust that will prove valuable.” He paused. “Also, I understand you prevented Natividad and Alejandro from becoming permanently lost in the fell dark. That is an inestimable service. Dimilioc is in your debt.”

Justin nodded, feeling awkward, unable to think of anything to say.

“Um,” said Natividad, and went on diffidently when they all looked at her, “I’m not sure Ezekiel explained this when he called you? Because I don’t think he realized? But Justin kind of . . . he made a
teleraña
, a web, a kind I didn’t . . . I don’t . . . really understand. And threw it across the . . . um, the boundary between the fell dark and, um, our world. And I kind of think the way he did it? I think that web might stop vampire magic getting through. Even if there’s another master vampire still here in this world, I think now it might have a lot of trouble making lesser vampires. It might not even be able to make blood kin.”

“What?” said Justin, nonplused.

“Well, I’m not
sure
. But I kind of think so.”

“Indeed,” said the Master, studying Justin.

Justin shook his head, not arguing, but trying to remember exactly what he had done and figure out whether Natividad might be right. He thought of the web he had made of silver and his own blood, weaving both around and through the vampire magic.
Was
that what he had done? Blocked not just vampires, but even that whole kind of demonic magic, from following them through the crack? He hadn’t . . . he hadn’t exactly thought about it at the time, but now he thought . . . maybe he had meant to do that, after all.

Grayson turned back to Natividad, lifting one eyebrow. “How long do you think this effect may last? Could you guess?”

Natividad spread her hands. “I don’t know! It’s not something anybody’s ever done before, you know. I think Justin kind of wove his own magic in and out of the web, right along with vampire magic, which shouldn’t have worked, but it . . . to me it seemed like it did work. It looked—it looked kind of permanent to me.”

Grayson regarded her. “Permanent.”

“Wait,” Justin protested. “Is that even possible?”

“Well, no. But I kind of think you did it anyway. I mean, it’s not possible to step into the fell dark and out again, right? And it’s not possible to get someone else out if they’ve fallen in, right? But you did both. Because you don’t know anything about Pure magic, so you didn’t know it wasn’t possible, so you did it. I think maybe your
teleraña
might have been . . . another impossible thing like that.”

Grayson lifted an eyebrow at Justin.

Justin shook his head immediately. “I don’t know. I have no idea. But if I did something like what Natividad says, then that’s—” he looked at her. “That kind of makes the whole thing worthwhile. Doesn’t it?”

“Well, yes, maybe,” said Natividad, and looked cautiously at Grayson. “Though, you know, if we missed one master vampire, there could be others, or anyway lesser vampires, and if they’re already here, Justin didn’t do anything about them. And maybe . . . ” she hesitated, then said reluctantly, “Maybe a master vampire that’s still in this world might be able to do something to open a way back to the fell dark. So that might undo the thing Justin did. I think. Maybe. But maybe not. I don’t know.”

“Indeed,” said Grayson thoughtfully, his gaze on Natividad. “Still, clearly, we may yet be extremely grateful for Justin’s work. And therefore even more appalled that he was ever placed into such a dangerous position.”

“I’m sorry!” Natividad said immediately. “It wasn’t supposed to be like that at
all
. I just wanted to get Justin away from Dimilioc, just for a little while, just till he realized he should come back. But . . .” she shook her head, a wordless admission that it had all gotten way, way out of her control.

“Indeed,” said Grayson. “You are certainly at fault.” He turned to Keziah. “And you. I expected better from you. What were you
thinking
?”

Keziah dropped to one knee immediately. “I beg your pardon, Master. I think I was right to go after Justin, but I know I was wrong to frighten him away.”

“You didn’t!” snapped Justin. “I keep
saying
that!” But Grayson gave him a brief look, and he closed his mouth and tried, he wasn’t sure how successfully, to keep himself from glowering openly.

Grayson said to Keziah, his voice deeper and harsher than ever, “I am aware you have not yet begun to feel that you truly belong to Dimilioc. As Natividad does not truly believe she is under authority. Keziah.” He waited for her to look up. When she did, he said grimly, “You may report to my office every evening after supper. Where you will write ten thousand times, ‘I belong to Dimilioc and I accept the authority of the Dimilioc Master.’”

Keziah stared at him. She looked as though she were trying to decide whether she had understood him correctly, and as though she were trying to work out whether she should be insulted or relieved at this punishment.

“You, as well,” Grayson said to Natividad. “Ten thousand times. I estimate it will take you approximately forty days, assuming you work for two hours every evening. I will not accept sloppy handwriting, you understand.”

Natividad and Keziah exchanged astonished glances.

“Well?” said Dimilioc Master.

“Um,” said Natividad. “Yes, sir.”

Keziah said, “But—” and stopped. Then she said again, “But—” and stopped a second time.

“Yes?” said the Dimilioc Master.

“But—” said Keziah, and exchanged another look with Natividad.

Justin was dying to know what she was thinking. He had never imagined her sounding so perfectly stunned by anything. He wanted to laugh. Smothering the desire was one of the more difficult things he’d ever done.

She said at last, sounding a little smothered herself, “Yes, Master.”

“Indeed,” said the Master, without the faintest trace of a smile. But Justin was certain there was a smile hidden behind that grim impassivity. He felt much better about the man—about Dimilioc—about being here himself.

Then the Master turned to Ezekiel, and that hidden trace of humor disappeared as though blown out like a single candle in the long reaches of the dark.

Ezekiel stepped away from the rest of them and strode up the stairs. He knelt at Grayson’s feet without a word, tipping his head back to offer the Master his throat. This was clearly not just a symbolic gesture. Grayson immediately closed one powerful hand around Ezekiel’s throat, setting his other hand on the back of his neck.

Justin had seen enough violence now that he didn’t need anybody to explain how easy it would be for Grayson to tear out Ezekiel’s throat, break his neck, tear his head entirely off. How completely impossible it would be for Ezekiel to defend himself. Yet Ezekiel had gone up those steps and put himself in that position without the slightest hesitation. Justin remembered him saying,
He can’t kill me. He needs me too much
. He wondered just how much faith Ezekiel had in that assessment now. He could feel Natividad’s tension beside him. She was really scared—

Grayson stepped back, releasing Ezekiel.

Who did not, however, move. He stayed exactly where he was, his eyes on Grayson’s face. He said, very quietly, “Master.”

“Tell me what you did,” the Master ordered him.

Now Ezekiel bowed his head. “I defied your command, deserted my mission in the face of enemy attack, left Alejandro and Ethan in great danger and you without my support when you needed me.”

“And what else?”

Ezekiel cleared his throat and glanced back down the steps, at Natividad, who blushed slowly and comprehensively. “
I
asked
him
, you know,” she told Grayson urgently.

“I know,” the Master said impatiently, and said to Ezekiel, “
Besides
that. What else did you do?”

Ezekiel hesitated. Then he shrugged, a very small motion of his shoulders, and answered, “I destroyed a minor vampire and a lot of blood kin, and saved Keziah when she would have been killed, and kept Justin and Natividad alive until they could deal with the master vampire. None of which would have availed if you had not sent us the timely aid of our allies in the special forces, nor have got any of us away from our . . . allies, if Nicholas Hammond had not intervened.”

“Yes,” said the Dimilioc Master. He paused. Ezekiel stayed exactly where he was, kneeling at the Master’s feet.

Justin could see no one expected Grayson to order Ezekiel to write out anything about obeying orders ten thousand times. He found himself holding his breath.

The Master said, “Ezekiel Korte.”

“Master,” Ezekiel acknowledged.

“I am informed that Étienne Lumondiere continues to experience difficulty in establishing his authority, which is to say Dimilioc authority, in the west. He will find your services invaluable.”

Ezekiel looked up, his eyes widening. Grayson held up a hand and said grimly, “You will go directly to Étienne’s sept. You will place yourself under his authority, within reason. You will assist him in his efforts. You will not return to Dimilioc. For one year—”

Ezekiel let his breath out, some of the tension easing out of his face.

Grayson continued remorselessly, “For one year, you are forbidden to return. You will not call nor in any way communicate with anyone here, except myself. Natividad will turn sixteen in three weeks. You will not be here.”

Ezekiel gave Natividad a swift, unreadable look. She was, Justin saw, beginning to look fairly dismayed herself.

“I shall suspend the requirement that she choose a Dimilioc wolf,” said Grayson, a little more gently. “She is, after all, still quite young. Another year will be well enough. However, should she choose another before your return, you will abide entirely by her choice, as is Dimilioc law.” He paused.

Ezekiel drew a long breath, let it out, bowed his head again, and said, “Master.”

“You will leave immediately,” Grayson ordered him, though still gently. “That van looks serviceable. Also traceable. Take it away with you.”

Ezekiel gave a little nod, but Justin wasn’t sure he had actually heard that last bit. He was looking at Natividad, who had stuffed her hands in her pockets and was looking back, her eyes wide.

She said, “A year isn’t so long.”

“It’s damned near forever,” Ezekiel said.

She was starting to smile. “It’s only a year. Though I guess a year seems longer to me today than it would have yesterday.”

Ezekiel rose in one fluid motion and ran down the steps, but stopped before he touched her. He held out his hands, but cautiously, as though afraid he might turn out not to have the right to touch her after all. He didn’t look up at Grayson, though his shoulders were stiff. But Natividad took his hands, and Grayson said nothing.

Ezekiel held her hands for a moment, then drew her close and curved his fingers instead around her waist. “I won’t ask for any promises,” he told her. “I won’t make any threats.”

“That makes a nice change,” Natividad said. But then she said much more softly, “Last night was a promise. You don’t need any threats.”