The Phoenix Charm (26 page)

“What’s happened? What is he?” Dai whispered.

Arian shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving Michael.

Visualizing the broken cot whole, Michael sent the intention on a tendril of energy. Wood, plastic, and metal rose and fused themselves back together in a flurry of movement and sound. Dai backed up to Olwyn and shook her awake. The two of them dissolved into sparkling mist and coalesced into orbs, before shooting away over Michael’s shoulder.

“Where’s Dragon?” Arian asked.

“Gone.”

“Not dead?”

Michael shook his head. “That decision’s not mine to make.”

“Is Troy here?”

“No.”

Arian clenched and released his hands, rattling his metal fingers, his gaze speculative. Then he took a reluctant step back. “It’s you I sense?”

“Aye.”

“Stay out of Wales, deathless one.” With those words, Arian dissolved, formed a light orb, and shot out the door.

The gatekeepers’ retreat, strangely, gave Michael little satisfaction. He glanced around the trashed nursery and grimaced at the mess. He could have commanded the room to
return to order in the same way he’d repaired the cot. Instead, he stood the changing table upright by hand, before kneeling to gather the toiletries strewn across the floor. He opened a window to let in fresh air, then returned to Nightshade’s room.

Cordelia sat by the bed, her hands over the stalker’s heart while he lay silent and still, eyes closed, face peaceful.

Michael wandered to the window, waiting for her to finish.

On a rocky outcrop protruding from the cliff to the south of the manor garden, a lone figure stood silhouetted against the streaks of orange and gold painting the horizon. Rainbow hues flashed from a jewel in his hair.

Troy
, just the person with whom he wanted to speak.

The touch of Cordelia’s fingers on his shoulder broke Michael’s trance. “Nightshade will sleep now,” she said softly. “When he wakes, he’ll be much better.”

“Thank you.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her hair. “I know you wanted to start by healing females, but—”

She put a finger on his lips. “I owe Nightshade all the care I can give him. I’ve not been fair to him in the past. Anyway, I think Eloise was right when she said he’s the master of his instincts.”

Running gentle fingers over his abused neck, she said, “Your turn for healing now, love.”

Michael caught her hand, eased it away from his throat, and kissed her palm to distracther. “Later.”

She turned her face up to him and he found her lips, the kiss gentle at first, becoming more demanding as passion flared.

His hand cradling her head, he eased away before he forgot what he needed to do. “How’s Tamsy?” he asked.

“Settled in a favorite spot in the flowerbed outside my sitting room, catching the last rays of sun.” She glanced down at Nightshade. “You gave him his father’s Magic Knot?”

“Aye.”

“But you touched it. You’re bonded to Dragon.”

Michael pulled her head against his chest and stroked her hair. He did not want to discuss Dragon’s stain on his spirit.

“How does that affect
us,
Michael?”

“Not at all.” He kissed her temple and released her before she asked more questions about their relationship. “There’s something I need to do; then we can head back to Merricombe Cottage if you like.”

“I want to stay here for the moment so I can keep an eye on Nightshade and make sure the piskies are all right. I don’t want to leave Trevelion Manor anymore. I always thought my allure would run out of control without my wards, but whenever I touch you, my energy falls into equilibrium.”

“Good.” He smiled briefly, his mind moving on to the questions he had for his father. “I’ll be back soon.”

From the window in Nightshade’s bedroom, Cordelia watched Michael stride across the lawn. He climbed over the wall to follow the precarious cliff-top path to the point where Troy stood. Although he hadn’t said where he was going, she’d sensed his intention.

Since he’d touched Dragon’s Magic Knot, he’d become distant and preoccupied. He claimed his bond with Dragon wouldn’t affect his relationship with her. She didn’t believe him. It already had.

Michael paused when he reached the narrow bridge of rock that led to the precarious outcrop where his father stood gazing at the sea. The gleaming burnt orange of Troy’s silk jacket blended with the sunset as though he’d chosen it for that very purpose. The color match seemed too perfect to be coincidence. Michael glanced out of the corner of his eye to detect any deception. But there were no layers of glamour to peel away. With Troy, what you saw was what you got.

In Troy’s hair, the Phoenix Stone flashed in the last rays of sun.

“You have your dagger back, I see,” Michael said. “Arian told me you’d trapped the King oft he Underworld again.”

“Gwyn ap Nudd is unstable,” Troy said. “Allowing him to rem ain at liberty sets a bad precedent. Devin and Mawgan manage the Ennead satisfactorily.”

Michael joined his father on the rocky point, his toes hanging over the ledge. Below, waves crashed in and broke across the jagged rocks.

“I touched Dragon’s Magic Knot.”

“I know. I sense his darkness in you.”

A gull wheeled in the air a few yards in front of their faces, riding the wind currents that bounced off the water and buffeted the cliff.

Michael pushed his hands in his pockets. “I was angry with you for choosing Finian and leaving me in the Underworld.”

“And now you’re not?”

Sucking in a breath, Michael released it on a sigh. He’d been childish. He’d gone to his death to rescue Finian, yet he’d still refused to accept what he was. “No. I didn’t need you. Finian did.”

Troy gave a single satisfied nod.

“You understand what you are?”

“Aye.”

Troy stood unmoving as though he were part of the scenery. The uneven granite jabbed the soles ofMichael’s sneakers, making his feet ache. He shifted and wriggled his toes.

“Both Finian and Kea have inherited the Phoenix Charm,” Troy said.

Michael forgot his feet and squinted at his father’s profile.

Troy turned slowly and met his gaze. “If Finian were mortal, I’d have been more concerned about him being trapped in the Underworld.”

Although Michael should be angry that Troy had kept him in the dark, all he felt was weary resignation. “You could
have told me.” Not that he’d have worried any less about the little lad.

Troy shrugged. “Finian still needed rescuing, and Devin couldn’t do so, otherwise he’d have compromised his position on the Ennead.”

“Did you set me up?” Michael asked.

“Do you really think me that cold-blooded?” Troy asked with a flash of disbelief in his eyes. “I would never wish my grandson to be trapped in Gwyn’s domain. Yet once the situation occurred, it provided the ideal opportunity for you to embrace death for the first time and realize your power.”

Definitely cold-blooded.
But Michael would keep that opinion of Troy to himself.

“Why did the Phoenix Charm skip Niall?” Michael asked.

Troy shrugged. “Not all my lineage exhibit the trait. Some are long dead.”

Michael gazed at a fishing boat chugging back to one of the tiny villages dotted along the coast and wished his life could be simple again. He’d secretly wanted to be more than a storyteller, to have a power others respected.
Be careful what you wish for
…“I don’t know how to explain what I am to Cordelia. The concept is esoteric, not easily put into words.”

“You don’t need to explain. She’ll sense your nature through your bond. She probably already has,” Troy replied.

“But we’re not fully bonded. Her cat holds her mind and spirit.”

Troy frowned at him. “Haven’t either of you asked the cat to return her stones?”

It’s that simple?

“You sure the cat will understand?” Michael asked.

“Cats understand everything they choose to understand.”

“Right. Of course they do.” Michael dropped his gaze to
the churning water. He should be able to bond fully with Cordelia, share everything with her. The beauty of her mind and spirit would consign the dark memory of Dragon to the recesses of Michael’s brain. Yet he could not rejoice.

The question he needed to ask circled in his head, hung on the tip of his tongue.

“Cordelia will probably die and leave you alone, Michael,” Troy said softly.

Michael dropped to his haunches as though felled by a blow. He steadied himself with a bruised hand against the sharp rocks, welcoming the pain while he stared unseeing at the ground. Troy’s words had struck him down before he’d even had a chance to ask the question.

Troy crouched beside him and gripped Michael’s shoulder.

Thin wires of pain tightened around Michael’s heart, until it hurt so much, everything in his chest went numb.

“How-how did you know what I wanted to ask?” Michael whispered.

“Because that’s the question I asked when I was first in love.”

Troy was so emotionally insular; Michael couldn’t imagine him in love.

Below, waves crashed and splintered in a hail of droplets. Michael imagined falling, smashing his life away on the rocks, only to recover, whether he wanted to or not.

“Potentially, she can live forever if she’s fully bonded to you,” Troy said. “But she’s mortal. She can still be mortally wounded or become sick.”

“I’ll look after her.” He would make sure nothing bad happened to her. Watch her every minute. Protect her.

“Don’t smother her.” Troy patted his back, then rose and stared at the streaks of liquid gold marking the horizon. “My rule, ‘no explanations, no excuses’ does not apply to the one you love. Share everything with her.”
While you can
hung unspoken in the air at the end of the sentence.

Images of the people who mattered to Michael flicked through his head. He wasn’t bonded to all of them. Niall, Rose, and Nightshade would grow old and die. He might even outlive his own children.

“What happens to all the other people you love?”

“Don’t love too many people, son. Walk away before that happens.” Troy looked down at Michael, the falling sun gleaming on his skin, sparkling off his crystal buttons. He pulled the Phoenix Dagger from his hair, letting the golden strands tumble to catch the wind and flutter around his shoulders. He held out the hilt. “When the time comes, you’ll pass this on to Finian and Kea.”

“What do I tell Niall?”

Troy touched his forehead in a gesture of respect. “Whatever you deem right, my son.” Then he melted into the air and disappeared, leaving Michael staring into space.

Nightshade sat across from Eloise while she breast-fed Rhys before bed, fascinated, yet trying not to stare. The nursery had been set straight. Now the only evidence there’d been any disruption was the sweet smell of talc in the air.

He turned away as Eloise closed her blouse, before lifting Rhys to her shoulder.

“Nightshade, would you like to burp him?” Her softly spoken inquiry startled him.

He glanced at Michael, expecting a comment about baby vomit down his back. Oblivious to what was going on in the room, Michael stood staring out the window. Protecting Cordelia from Dragon had changed Michael. Nightshade felt guilty for attracting his father to Cornwall and putting the wise woman at risk. He’d have to find a way to make it up to his friends.

With a smile, he nodded at Eloise. “I’d like that.”

When he started to rise, she waved him down. “Stay there. I’ll come to you.” She laid a small towel over his shoulder before passing the sleepy boy into his arms. “Let him rest his head on your shoulder. He’ll be asleep in a few minutes.”

Nightshade held his brother’s diaper-padded bottom while he rubbed the child’s back, his fingers drawn to the two bumps that would develop into wings at puberty.

A hand resting lightly on Nightshade’s arm, Eloise bent closer. Her gaze flicked up to his face as her lips pressed
against her son’s head. She was so dose that he smelled her skin and the tang of her blood. “We’re comfortable with you,” she said softly. “I can never thank you enough.”

She was pretty in a pale, skinny way, which, unfortunately, held no appeal for him. Since they’d arrived in Cornwall, she’d been giving him signals, looks, casual touches. If he wanted her, she’d be willing. Yet humans had never attracted him. He desired strength, power, and attitude.

Clearing his throat, Nightshade looked down and adjusted his hold on Rhys so Eloise could withdraw gracefully. “I should be thanking you,” he said. “Rhys is my blood relative, yet I didn’t even know he existed.”

With a sigh, Eloise stepped back. “Now you can be brother and father to him.”

Father.

For his little brother, he would strive to behave like the sort of father he’d longed for when he was a child. His hand rubbed circles on Rhys’s back while the child’s breathing fell into the regular rhythm of sleep.

Nightshade replayed every dive and blow of his aerial battle with Dragon. He’d thought there was a certain masculine camaraderie between them, even while they pounded each other, a mutual admiration of each other’s skill and fitness. Right up to the moment when Dragon grabbed Nightshade’s wing, nearly tearing the appendage from his body, kicked him in the head, and smashed him against the wall. Then left him for dead.

What father would do that to his son? What fat her would scratch a helpless child and scar him for life? The blue band patterned with yellow ducks around the top of Rhys’s diaper hid those scars, but somewhere in the boy’s memory the pain would be remembered and mark him for life. He silently promised Rhys that Dragon would never harm him again.

His father’s Magic Knot formed a bump in his pocket. Nightshade was tired and sore and wanted only to spend time with Rhys. But before he could feel certain his baby
brother was safe, he must find Dragon and secure his blood vow to give up all rights to Rhys.

Cordelia opened her eyes to a shadowy view of her familiar bedroom at Trevelion Manor. Even before she turned to see if Michael had joined her in bed, she knew he wasn’t there.

She pushed up on her elbow and looked around, opened her senses to locate him. His familiar psychic presence was absent. Unease trickled through her.

Ever since he’d touched Dragon’s Magic Knot, he’d been distant. She’d hoped his chat with Troy would help. If anything, he’d retreated deeper into himself after his meeting with his father. She sat up and dropped her feet to the floor, rubbing her eyes.

Experiencing the darkness in the mind and spirit of the nightstalker must have been traumatic. Why wouldn’t he talk to her? Her healing energies might help him if only he’d share what was troubling him.

After donning a dressing gown and slippers, she left her rooms. If he were any where in the house, she’d find him and make him talk to her.

Silently, she made her way up the stairs to the nursery, sure he must be with his nephews. When she peered through the door, the chairs were all empty. Only the gentle sound of three babies breathing filled the room.

Michael
She called him in her mind, hoping he might hear if he were awake. But because he only held her body stone, he’d never been able to sense her as she did him.

She checked the room he sometimes slept in when he stayed at the manor, her shoulders dropping with relief at the sight of his empty bed. If he’d chosen to sleep alone, she’d have been hurt.

When she’d searched the kitchen, Niall’s office and the library without success, she gave up and wandered back to her apartment, a hollowness inside her full of unshed tears. After all they’d been through, they should be celebrating.

She went to her tiny sitting room to find Tamsy. Earlier, she’d shut the cat out of the bedroom expecting Michael to join her, but now she needed her familiar’s company.

Pale light filtered in through the French windows, turning the darkness gray and drawing faint shadows. There, on the saggy, hairy chair Tamsy used as a bed, Michael sat, his head resting against the wing, eyes closed.

A preternatural glow radiated from his skin.

A fine tremor ran through her at the sight. Although she’d seen him stabbed and called him back from the Underworld, she hadn’t truly appreciated how different he was from her until that moment.

He’d died and come back to life. He would probably do so again, many times. Would he end up distant and ethereal like Troy? She felt as though Michael was drifting away from her already.

In the low light, she made out a gray furry shape curled on Michael’s lap.
Great.
Michael eschewed her bed in favor of her cat’s company.

She should leave him to sleep. They could talk in the morning. That was the right thing to do. But she needed to touch him.

Cordelia kneeled beside the chair and stroked Tamsy. The cat lifted her head with a faint mew, blinked sleepily, then laid her chin back on Michael’s leg.

She brushed her fingertips lightly over the back of Michael’s hand, remembering the first day she’d sensed him two years ago. His psychic presence was so strong and dominating, he’d overpowered everyone in Trevelion Manor, even Niall. Although she had not admitted the truth to herself, she had fallen in love with him from that first look. Back then, he hadn’t even noticed her. Yet now he was hers, and she wasn’t going to lose him.

His fingers twitched and she smiled, traced a path up his arm, over the bulge of his biceps to the discolored bruising on his neck. Already the angry purple had faded to yellow.
By tomorrow evening, the marks would probably have gone. Every time she touched him, she gave him healing energy. But his body had healed itself.

She trailed her fingertips along his jaw, touched the silky waves of his hair, her heart aching with trepidation. She wanted to know what was troubling him. At the same time, she feared something had happened that might take him from her.

She memorized every curve and angle of his features. Her chest ached at his beauty. With a little sigh, she pressed her lips to his, kissing firmly to wake him in the best way she knew how.

His lips parted, and he drew in a breath. She retreated enough to give him some air and curved a palm around his cheek.

His eyes opened, and he blinked. “Cordelia.” He looked toward the window. “What’s the time?”

“Early hours.”

When he made no move to continue the kiss, she dropped back to her knees and gripped his hand. “I wondered what had happened to you when you didn’t join me in bed.”

“Ahh,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry about that.”

Funny how whenever he was serious, she wished he’d call her sugarplum. “Don’t be sorry, Michael. Just tell me what’s wrong. You’re shutting me out.”

“You’re right. There are things you need to understand.” He stroked Tamsy and sighed. “I was hoping if I got your mind and spirit stones from Tamsy, you’d see me thoughts and feelings, and I wouldn’t need to put stuff into words.”

She reared back, a jab of surprise mixed with confusion. “You can’t do that. My father said if I ever tried to take my stones from Tamsy, I’d kill her” She remembered the stern lecture she’d received on her responsibilities to her bonded familiar.

“Troy said all we have to do is ask Tamsy for them.”

Cordelia shook her head slowly. “Why would Father tell me Tamsy would die if…?” Her words trailed away when the truth hit her. Her father would have done or said anything to stop her from revealing her true nature.

“He lied to you, sugarplum. As long as you’re careful, you’re fine without your wards, aren’t you?” She nodded, biting her lip. “Your father wasn’t protecting you; he was protecting his own reputation. Your real nature is proof that the high-minded king’s advisor dallied with a water nymph.”

After lifting Tamsy to the floor, he helped Cordelia onto his lap. She pulled up her knees and curled against him. The feel of his arms around her banished the uneasiness from her mind. He tilted her chin up with a finger and smoothed his lips over hers. The heat built quickly between them until all she could think about was the demand of his mouth and the stroke of his tongue.

She didn’t know for how long they kissed, but when early morning sun filtered in through the French window, Michael eased away and rested his forehead against hers. “Shall we try asking Tamsy for your stones?”

Cordelia turned to find Tamsy sitting beside the fireplace watching them.

“I thought she might wear them on a collar, but I couldn’t find them.” Michael glanced at Cordelia questioningly.

“They’re inside her,” she explained, her voice hardly more than a whisper. Although she wanted to pass the care of her mind and spirit into Michael’s safekeeping, the thought of losing her connection with Tamsy after so many years clogged her throat with tears.

“I’m thinking she knows what we’re saying,” Michael whispered.

“Of course she does.”

“Then I guess we ask her for them and see what happens.” He lifted Cordelia off his lap before hunkering down beside Tamsy. “You’ve had a good long time bonded to Cordelia,
and she’s mighty fond of you, but ’tis time for her to bond with her mate. Would you let me have Cordelia’s mind and spirit stones, please, Tamsy?”

Tamsy stood and stretched, then turned and licked the fur on her shoulder Twitching her tail, she looked up at Cordelia, her pale eyes shining, the sweetness of her nature clear to see. Then she lowered her head and gagged.

Cordelia went to Michael’s side and gripped his hand.

“She’s not going to…heave them up, is she?” he asked, his nose wrinkled.

“I don’t-” Tamsy retched again as though she had a fur ball stuck in her throat. “Goodness, I think she is.”

The cat retched twice more before vomiting on the slate slab in front of the hearth.

“I’m not often speechless, but…“ Michael blinked, horrified disbelief on his face.

Cordelia hurried to the kitchen and fetched a roll of paper towel, hoping Michael would accept her stones after what he’d just seen. This certainly wasn’t the romantic momentshe had hoped for.

After unfastening the French window, she collected Tamsy’s“gift” in the kitchen paper, and set it down on the edge of the patio outside. Michael stood behind her and watched. His breath caught on an exclamation as she held up two small linked stones the color of quartz.

Joy and sadness mingled inside Cordelia, bringing tears to her eyes. She’d been twelve when her grandmother had asked one night to see her Magic Knot. The following morning she’d returned the single body stone to her. Although Cordelia had always loved Tamsy, seeing her mind and spirit stones again reminded her of her grandmother’s deceit.

She glanced up at Michael’s frown. “Don’t worry. I’ll sterilize them.” His expression remained doubtful. When she gave them to him, she would have to make the occasion romantic so he’d forget where they’d come from. Even as she stared at him, a plan formed in her mind.

“It’s time,” Cordelia said.

“Where are we going?” Michael asked. All day, she’d been mysterious about her plans for their evening.

“Wait another few minutes and you’ll find out.” She lit two oil lamps and passed him one, then took his hand and led him out of her sitting room.

Trevelion Manor sat silently behind them in the twilight. She led him down the garden to the top of a narrow cliff path that gave access to the private beach. As they descended, the lamplight threw bright splashes against the rock face, deepening the shadows below.

The heat of the day had baked the rocks and, even now, they still radiated warmth.

She paused when they reached the beach and inhaled deeply. “Don’t you just love the smell of the sea?”

He released her hand and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against his side so he could lean down to sniff her. “I prefer the smell of your skin.” He’d missed out on sharing her bed last night, so her plan for the evening had better include getting naked quickly.

She snuggled up to him with a sexy little murmur and scratched her fingernails over his T-shirt-covered abs, just above the waistband of his jeans. His breath hitched on a burst of desire. When he leaned down to kiss her, she ducked away and ran toward the sea, laughing.

“Hey, you tease.” Holding the lamp out to the side, he trotted after her, feeling lighter and more carefree than he had since they’d arrived home from Wales.

She deposited her lamp on a rock, then ran to the tide line. His feet stumbled to a halt when she pulled her dress off over her head and tossed it on the sand. She stood naked in front of him, wearing only his Magic Knot around her neck, the water behind her like a millpond reflecting the silvery streak of the moon.

While he stared at her, she unraveled her plait and spread
her hair over her shoulders. Smiling at him, she backed into the sea, her footsteps sending moonlight-tinged ripples across the water’s surface. She beckoned him seductively.