Shadow's End (25 page)

All other considerations fell away. The other people in the group, their lack of privacy, the challenge that lay before them, even the danger to her son.

This time, she put both hands to the monster's face and turned him toward her.

He could have easily resisted her touch. Physically, he was much stronger than she was. But he obeyed the urging of her hands. The snarl that had distorted his lips eased.

Stroking his hair, she thought, I have never seen anything more beautiful than this.

“Come here,” she whispered. “Come here.”

The monster's eyes narrowed. For a moment he looked uncertain and so filled with yearning, it caused a deep ache to fill her chest.

Watching her closely, again he obeyed. He bowed his head.

As he did, she stood on tiptoe and kissed that adorable, dangerous monster on his snarly, fang-filled mouth.

He froze. She could tell he wasn't even breathing. Where she leaned against his chest, the powerful engine of his heart hammered too fast against her breasts.

Then the shape of his body and the contour of his mouth changed. His bruising, iron-hard hold on her gentled.

He gathered her close, slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her with such passionate tenderness, tears spilled out of the corners of her eyes and streaked down her cheeks. She kissed him in return, holding onto him fiercely. For that one moment nothing else existed.

When he eased away, he looked sober and self-contained. His expression was so unlike what she had expected, she shivered.

After a quick glance around the empty room, he muttered, “I lost control.”

“Yes, you did,” she told him gently. “Do you remember what happened?”

His mouth tightened. He passed a hand over her hair in a fleeting caress, then let her go and stepped away. “I remember enough. Soren was angry and aggressive. He came at us too close, too fast. He's such a dangerous Djinn, it threw me—back to the manor house.” His dark gray eyes met hers briefly before he turned away. “I apologize. It won't happen again.”

Thrown off-balance, she stared at his broad, powerful back. She thought she had understood what was happening, but this wasn't anything like she imagined. After such ferocity, and a kiss so devastatingly tender she could still feel his lips on hers, he now acted almost as if he was embarrassed.

Could she have read the situation wrong? Had he really just been thrown back to the confrontation in Wembley?

She felt as if a whole shining future had been snatched away from her. Just as fierce and overwhelming as the joy that had swept through her only moments ago, disappointment crashed down on her so heavily she felt a crushing weight on her chest.

She wanted that future. She wanted it desperately. She wanted him, and the kind of love she sensed that he was capable of giving.

I love him, she thought. Somehow, at some point in time, I fell in love with him.

I want him, more than anything I've ever wanted in my life.

If nothing else, admitting the truth to herself was an immense relief.

She stepped toward him, one hand outstretched, not that he could see it, since he still had his back turned toward her. “It's all right, Graydon. I don't want you to apologize. I want . . .”

I want my monster back. The words sounded so raw and needy, she caught herself before she could say them.

His shoulders had stiffened. With an unpleasant shock, she realized that he didn't welcome anything she might have to say. His silent, rigid posture stopped her words as effectively as if he had stuffed a gag in her mouth.

Breathing hard, she pulled the ragged pieces of herself together. After a moment, she said, “Since you've recovered, we should ask the others to return.”

“Yes,” he said. He strode toward the door that led to the outside hall. “We have a lot to do, and as you pointed out, time is slipping away from us.”

His too-quick response shoved her over some kind of edge. She felt as if she had been heading toward that place for a very long time.

After running a gamut of emotions over the last twenty-four hours, she jammed on the emergency brake and came to a full stop. Angling her jaw, she put her hands on her hips.

Maybe it was unwise. But she was tired of trying to be wise. Of trying to think only of the greater good or taking the best course of action.

She was fed up with taking the long view, holding the course. Always looking out for other people.

And fuck diplomacy. Really, just kick that shit to the curb.

This, she thought, is about what I want. No one else.

Telepathically, she said,
We have a lot to do, and a lot to decide. None of it is going to be easy. I get that now is not the time to talk. Even so, I still want you to know I love you. Graydon, I'm in love with you. I think I have been ever since that night we spent in the forest.

Quick as a cat, he spun around to face her. His gaze had turned raw, and a muscle leaped in the tense line of his jaw.

Whatever barrier he had erected between them seemed to be gone. In the face of his intensity, the fierce focus she had acquired splintered completely.

She stumbled on.
So . . . either you'll welcome that, or you won't. But I'm not going to be silent about it. And . . . and well, that's all I had to say. Oh, except—after we get done killing Malphas and fighting to free Ferion, I'm going to fight for you too. Unless . . . unless of course you don't want me to.

Aaaggghh.

As a rousing declaration of love, that foolish speech left a lot to be desired. She felt stupid and naked, and completely out of her depth.

After they stared at each other for a pulsing moment, she threw up her hands and charged for the door. Someone, anyone needed to come back into this blasted suite. In fact, right now would be a good time.

“I love you too,” Graydon said aloud. His voice had gone hoarse. “For two hundred years, I've been waiting for you, hoping for you. Fighting for you any way I could. I never dared let myself hope you might feel the same way, or I couldn't have walked away from you.”

He strode across the room toward her.

Before she fully realized what she was doing, she leaped at him and crashed into his chest.

He didn't even stagger as he snatched her out of the air and crushed her to him. Blindly, hungrily, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist and held onto him with everything she had.

“Are you mating with me?” she whispered, burying her face in his hair.

“I'm beginning to, yes,” he said very low into her neck. “I haven't gone too far. Not yet, so if you're not sure about this in any way, there's still time to back away.”

Back away from the warmth of that friendly blaze? From his kindness, constancy and faithfulness? Turn away from the smile in his beautiful gray eyes, or the way the proud gryphon seemed self-conscious whenever she praised or petted him? Stop flying?

Let go of this adorable, dangerous man?

Not on your life, she thought. Never again in his life, or in hers.

She went nose-to-nose with him. “That goes for you too,” she whispered. “Would you back away?”

“Never.” His response was immediate and adamant, and his gaze was as steady as bedrock. “Not unless you needed me to.”

Pressing her lips tightly together, she nodded, for a moment too overcome to speak. The whole conversation felt as necessary as breathing, yet it was also precipitous, immensely inconvenient.

Issues piled up in her head. Malphas, Ferion, and oh gods, if they both survived this coming confrontation, she was going to have to find some way to come to terms with that blasted dragon.

If they both survived.

Once her mind started thinking along that path, it couldn't stop.

If Graydon went too far mating and something happened to her, neither one of them would survive. The realization
sank some serious teeth into her and shook her harder than anything else had.

She had to let him go for now. She had to, until this whole nightmare was over, because she couldn't do anything else. The thought of him mating with her, only to die if she did was unthinkable.

“We'll have time,” she said. She hugged him again with all her strength. “Later—afterward. We'll
make
time to figure this out. We'll take all the time we need. We'll have all the time in the world.”

He pressed his lips to her temple and told her, “Of course we will.”

Of all the conversations they'd had, that was the only thing she had ever heard him say to her that sounded like a lie.

Her legs loosened from around his hips. As he let her slide to her feet, she frowned up at him.

What the hell?

Something felt . . . incredibly off. She didn't know what it could be. Everything was fraught with too much tension, driven by a lack of time and extremely limited privacy. Even though they had hardly begun to talk, they had to focus on other concerns.

If it was just a matter of pressing a pause button until they could talk at a later time, she could handle that. Her life had been filled with countless moments just like this one, where her personal concerns had to go on hold because of some other, more pressing matters.

What she didn't think she could handle was the thought that everything she wanted, everything she had begun to dream about and hope for, might vanish again like an illusion.

“We will,” she insisted.

His expression hardened. “If I have anything to say about it, we will,” he promised. “We just need to fight hard enough, cleverly enough. There is a way to win though.”

Truth had come back into his voice. Relieved, she grabbed onto that thought and didn't let go.

“I couldn't have held on for so long if I didn't believe that,” she said. She had to believe it. It was the only thing she had to hang on to.

He pressed his lips against her forehead. “Let's call the others back in. We have a war to plan.”

She straightened her shoulders. Enough people in the group had such sensitive hearing that everything she and Graydon had said aloud to each other had been said virtually in public.

She wasn't embarrassed, and she certainly wasn't ashamed.

Still, as Graydon rapped his knuckles on the door of the suite and the others returned, she felt heat touch her cheeks.

It was hard to bare one's soul to someone else. She had also just bared her soul to ten other people. The sense of exposure was unsettling to say the least.

Most avoided meeting her gaze, except for Constantine. He stared at her with the same mixture of curiosity and wistfulness that she had noticed before.

Her self-consciousness vaporized as Soren entered the room. He studied both her and Graydon with a piercing frown.

Soren said, “I have heard everything that the others had to say. Now I want to hear it from you.”

Biting her lip, she stared at the floor. Graydon said carefully, “If you've heard everything, you know there's only so much we can say.”

“Not true,” replied Soren. “I can remove any connection you may have with another Djinn.”

Astonishment and hope flared. Her gaze flashed up and collided with Graydon's.

She asked, “Can you do it without alerting the other Djinn?”

“I believe so. If you will allow me to do so, that is.” Soren raised his eyebrows pointedly at Graydon. “May I approach?”

SIXTEEN

T
he surge of relief Graydon felt at Soren's words was painful in the extreme.

Imperceptible though his connection to Malphas was, it had become unbearable, as heavy as the shackle Ferion had said he carried.

Starting to nod, he forced himself to pause and consider every angle. He said tensely, “What if you try and fail?”

Bel twisted her hands together, her expression mirroring his feelings. They had come too far, and had gone too long, to screw this up now.

Soren's brusque manner softened as he regarded Bel. He told them, “I will not fail. If I cannot remove the connection from you without alerting the other Djinn, I will not do it. But I am one of the oldest and strongest of my kind. I am also one of the most adept. I have removed connections before that have been deemed invalid, when I've acted as either a member of the Djinn assembly or as head of the Elder tribunal.”

“Yes,” Bel said suddenly. “I believe you. Please, do it.”

Soren inclined his head. He glanced at Graydon, and instead of approaching Bel, he held out his hand.

She strode over to him, slipping her fingers in his. Graydon tensed. He
hated
how close the other male was to her, and he fought the urge to knock them apart. Violent thoughts flashed through his mind, and his body knotted, muscles leaping with tension.

Vaguely he was aware that the other Wyr, Luis, Rune and Constantine, were all watching him closely. He knotted his hands into fists in an effort to maintain control.

Bel and Soren stood looking into each other's eyes. Something happened, some tiny shift, that was too subtle for Graydon to fully assess.

Soren said quietly, “It's gone.”

“You're sure?” Graydon demanded.

Soren gave him a wary glance. “Yes, I'm quite sure.”

Bel's composure splintered, painfully and completely.

Her face twisted. Bending over at the waist, she cried out, “We've got to stop Malphas! We have to kill him! He trapped and enslaved my son. Oh gods, he's enslaved him for two hundred years.
I need him dead!
”

Her raw, anguished fury rocketed around the room. In response, Grace's eyes filled, and Claudia and Luis flinched. Carling angled her face away, while Constantine and Julian stared at Bel, their eyes burning.

Soren turned to him. “Come, gryphon. Take your freedom.”

Graydon had to fight an almost overwhelming urge to step forward. The need to be free came close to eclipsing everything else. He shook his head and said harshly, “No.”

“Dude,” said Constantine.

Bel straightened to stare at him. “No?”

“We need to get Malphas onto a battlefield,” Graydon told her. “That means I need to be able to summon him. Then we have to hit him as hard and as fast as we can, so he can't get away.”

“He's right,” Khalil said. “Setting a trap will give you the highest probability of success. If Malphas goes on the run, waging war against him will be drawn out, miserable, and twice as dangerous. That's what happened when we
fought and killed Lethe.” When Khalil and Carling looked at each other, a shadow fell over both their faces. He finished quietly, “The damage from that war was very great.”

“I can help with that,” said Julian.

Graydon's eyes narrowed. “How?”

“As Vampyres age, our attributes get stronger, just like any of the other Elder Races.” After returning to the suite Julian hadn't bothered to sit again. He stood, arms crossed, with Melly at his side.

“Exactly what does that mean for you?” Soren asked. “What attribute do you bring to this confrontation?”

“I can hold onto my prey,” Julian told them. “If I can get my hands on Malphas, he won't be going anywhere. Not unless he either frees himself, or I'm dead.”

Beside Julian, Melly's face turned bone white. She whispered, “That's ridiculously suicidal.”

“I figure it'll get intense.” Julian jerked his head in a short acknowledgment. “Which means everybody else is going to have to kill him quick.”

Julian and Melly's dialogue faded into silence, as they had an obviously tense and quick telepathic exchange. Melly gestured, her movements jerky and uncontrolled, and Julian hauled her into a tight hug.

Rune's attention had remained fixed on Graydon. He said, “You might summon Malphas, but that doesn't necessarily mean he'll show up.”

He acknowledged that with a nod. “I've thought of that too. I haven't called on Malphas in two hundred years. He'll come. He'll be too curious not to. The most critical thing we'll need to do is make sure our attacking forces are cloaked so completely, Malphas doesn't sense them. He'll need to believe I'm alone.”

Bel came to his side. She touched his arm, watching his face. “Do you think you can get him to stay long enough to solidify, so that Julian can get hold of him?”

“I think so,” he told her. “Especially since I'm going to offer him the one thing he can't resist.”

“Not another bargain, I hope,” Constantine said.

“Oh, no.”

“What do you have in mind?” Rune asked, narrow-eyed.

The predator in Graydon came to the forefront. The savagery of his anticipation for the upcoming confrontation filled him completely.

Until they finished this, Malphas could still discover what had happened. He could still torture or control Ferion, and if the Djinn saw that his connection to Bel had been removed, she would be in even more danger than before.

Finally, finally, the waiting, the calculation, and planning were over.

They had to end this quickly, before they lost the element of surprise.

He bared his teeth in a hard smile. “I'm going to offer Malphas a wager. Who's in?”

“Me,” said Julian. Beside him, Melly's eyes filled, but she folded her lips tight and didn't object.

Rune and Carling glanced at each other and nodded. Rune said, “We're both in.”

“Fuck, yeah,” said Constantine. “I wouldn't miss this for the world.”

“And I,” said Soren heavily. “I'll also ensure we have Peacekeeper troops. They can maintain a perimeter, provide a backup assault, and help with—the aftermath.”

Soren meant they could help with the wounded and casualties. The room fell silent, as everyone absorbed his true message.

Claudia said, “Much as I hate to say it, Luis and I are outclassed and outgunned for the main fight, but we're very willing to help with any backup you might need.”

“I'm afraid I can't offer anything further, either,” Grace told them. “None of my skill set is suitable for this battle, and as Khalil has already said, I'm the guardian of two small children. I can't put myself in danger. I'm out.”

“I can offer help,” Khalil said unexpectedly. As the others turned to stare at him in surprise, he added, “I won't go into battle. That much is still true, but I can provide quick transportation if needed.”

Melly said between her teeth, “Goddammit.”

In a gentle voice, Julian told her, “You're out.”

“I know.” Tears glittered in her eyes. “I
know
. Goddammit!”

The only one in the room who hadn't spoken yet was Bel. Turning to her, Graydon saw that she was composed and calm again. A wave of tenderness washed over him. She didn't have the skill set to fight a Djinn either.

When she spoke, she didn't do as he expected and acknowledge that she was not suited for the upcoming battle.

Instead, she said, “Unquestionably, the fight with Malphas is going to be the most dangerous part of this whole venture. But there's still another war to be fought, and that's keeping Ferion alive and protected. As we don't have any idea if Malphas has spies in the Elven household, or how many, that's my battleground.”

He flexed his hands, fiercely willing himself to not shapeshift. By sheer force of will, he kept his rigid expression from transforming and his talons from emerging.

He had gotten too focused on his hunt and had stopped thinking about anything else. A sneaky part of him had been too relieved that Bel wasn't suited to a fight with Malphas, and he'd stopped considering anything further.

She would still be in danger, and he couldn't be with her, or protect her.

As Melly had said, goddammit.

Goddammit
.

While he struggled to maintain control, everyone seemed to speak at once as they laid plans. After the most brutally long, difficult wait of his life, events hurtled forward, faster than he could control.

The team that would attack Malphas needed a site where they could lay the trap. Rune and Constantine drew close to Graydon while they batted ideas back and forth. Their conversation snagged his attention. Focusing, he joined in.

On the one hand, it felt good to plot strategy with the other two gryphons. It felt right in a way that had everything to do with the centuries they had worked together in countless similar situations.

On the other hand, Graydon's muscles jumped underneath his skin. He couldn't stop staring at Bel as she was surrounded by the others, immersed in her own strategy meeting.

Once or twice, she looked toward him too. When their eyes met, it was with a shock of connection that knocked everything and everyone else aside.

He had to force himself to turn away and concentrate on the task at hand.

“Finding the right kind of venue is going to be tough,” Rune said, rubbing his jaw.

“It's got to be in New York,” Graydon said. “Otherwise, with the masque so close, I don't think Malphas will buy it.”

Constantine frowned, crossing his arms. “But it's got to be away from other people. There has to be room for the fight, and no room for collateral damage.”

Rune released a frustrated sigh. “I agree, but that's a very narrow set of requirements. If you want an abandoned warehouse area, there are a few places in Queens or in Brooklyn along the East River that might work.”

“No,” Graydon said. “That feels too risky.”

“What about the FDR Four Freedom memorial?” Constantine asked. “It's on the tip of Roosevelt Island, and it closes overnight.”

“That's a possibility,” Graydon said slowly.

But he didn't like it, and he could see the same dissatisfaction on the other two men's faces. Not only did the memorial close at night, but it was also winter—yet those factors only lessened the risk of possible harm to others. They didn't negate it.

None of them really knew what kind of area the battle would cover. So much of that would hinge on whether or not Julian could maintain his hold and truly keep the Djinn grounded.

Constantine said, without much conviction, “Governors Island. Again, it's closed to the public at night.”

Rubbing his neck, Graydon shook his head. “I don't know, man. I don't like it.”

Rune snapped his fingers. “I've got it. Hart Island.”

Graydon blew out a slow breath, as he thought about it.
Hart Island was at the western end of the Long Island Sound. He could reach the island quickly and easily by air, so it was close enough to allay any suspicion.

Roughly a mile long, and a quarter of a mile across, Hart Island was also inaccessible to the public. Over a decidedly dark history, it had been a quarantine, an insane asylum, a workhouse for boys, a missile base, a Civil War prison camp, and a potter's field—and now the island was the largest tax-funded cemetery in the world.

Aside from prison burial crews and a ferry that landed at a memorial gazebo once a month, the island lay abandoned, haunted by a dark past and the dead.

It was also warded by prison guards detailing burial crews by day, and with copious
restricted area
and
no trespassing
signs. There were crumbling buildings, along with an uneven landscape along the shore, which would offer plenty of places for Peacekeeper troops to hide as they lay in wait.

Tactically, the island was perfect.

“Yes,” he said. Constantine nodded.