blood 03 - blood chosen (29 page)

For what?
Julia thought.

Celesta must have seen the question on Julia's face because she answered the question she saw there, “For freeing us.”

There was a rustle of cloth, a whisper of movement that was in Julia's periphery and she turned to face it.

“She must die,” Cormack said and came for her just as a shriek like an animal in the throes of death struck her ears.

Julia realized she was amazingly alone when Jason had stepped back as the fey had bowed at her feet. Scott was now closer and broke for her, changing into the form he had once before when she'd been so close to meeting death up close and personal. But it would be too late.

Much too late. Cormack's rage and intent were etched lines of violence in his beaten and war struck face that was now focused solely on her.

She braced herself, knowing her novice telekinesis wouldn't be fast or accurate enough to stop him before he could act.

And Julia was still mortal. To have survived all this strife and war, to be at the chasm of real leadership, freedom and a decision she could live with- robbed by this Sidhe warrior. She closed her eyes, ready for the blow.

Julia heard the flap before she saw it, felt the wind from them against her face as Cormack's sword whistled above her head in a metallic roar, the metal glinting in the weak torchlight. The Sidhe slid to the left, their eyes on the roof. Scott's enraged face came into view before it was blocked by a pure and perfect darkness. Julia looked up as soft feathers enveloped her body like silken heat. William's raven pressed against her, chest to breast, in a cocoon of down. The profile of his beak lay cold against her cheek.

Julia could feel the sword when it landed. The impact pushed William closer and her gaze locked with his dark crimson eyes, the tip of the blade brushing her chest as it slid through his heart.

The cold steel begged for entry, his body proof against it entering hers.

William's red eyes held so much emotion suspended within the blood of his irises.

So much pain.

Though mainly, that gaze was saying goodbye and... I love you.

I've always loved you.

It was all there like a raw message in the windows to his soul. It made Julia's chest burn and eyes well with tears in a surge of understanding and grief that was truly breath-taking.

Those scarlet eyes fluttered closed and the ebony blanket of feathers slipped away as Cormack's head rolled, the arterial spray from Scott wrenching it from his neck flinging the evidence of his injury against the black walls, the light of the torches hissing on contact.

Julia stood there numbly, covered in William's blood while Delilah gave a delicate hiss and launched on the headless Sidhe warrior even as his hands came to find her body in a macabre embrace. The truly immortal could still live without their head. Truman and Slash ripped his arms to the ground and put their body weight against his.

Delilah drowned in the blood of the royal fey warrior, drinking so much she vomited it around his body and dipped to begin again. Julia watched his head, those glittering obsidian eyes sliding closed... dying.

When the light in them was gone, Julia said, “Stop.” Her voice quaked with the command but she couldn't stand another drop of killing and still want to live.

Delilah pulled away, leaning against the wall in a drunken stupor. Drunk by blood consumption, a potent cocktail of Sidhe royalty.

Julia ignored the horror for the moment, dropping to her knees beside William. His body lay broken and bleeding. Those beautiful gray eyes gone forever. Did she do this? Were her thoughts of separatism and wanting to be only with Jason... somehow, a self-fulfilling prophesy? That if she thought hard enough it would come true? Her knuckles slid across a face gone slack in death, the blood a smooth conduit for her post-mortem caress and she took her trembling hand back against her chest, cradling it.

Julia hung her head, her hair sweeping over William's form on the unforgiving stone and wept. She felt pieces of her heart break away as the tears fell, mixing with her hair, William's blood.

When Julia could lift her head, she looked at Scott and he'd shrunk back into his normal Singer form. Was he next to die a martyr's death? Was it a coincidence of faith that Julia wanted out of the triangle of matrimony she'd thought she was railroaded into? Or had she predetermined this event through some skill she was yet unaware of?

She swiped at her wet cheeks, pushing the strands of hair behind her ears. Julia's head spun with the different branches of her life. Of cause and effect, or predestination and coincidence. Exhausted, she dropped her wet face on William's chest, his skin going from the normally cool temperature of vampire, to the ice of the truly dead.

Julia barely felt Jason's arms hold her as she cried.

She wept for William, the vampire who'd truly loved her.

Julia wept for them all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The Sidhe parted like a great glimmering sea, their long robes, in jewel toned fabrics, swept the cool marble beneath their feet. Julia tried not to dwell on what their hems glided over, the decoration of battle scarred on its surface. Except for Rex, who was also decorated in his Queen's blood.

They moved to let her pass.

Julia walked by habit only, her feet landing one foot at a time in front of her, William's death was a wild and frightening grief she couldn't embrace. Couldn't face. Her captor of the past had become her friend.

Jason and Scott walked beside Julia as she sat at the base of the royal dais, using the former Queen's velvet footstool as a perch. When she faced the fey and her own people, which she felt included the Were and the lone vampire, her eyes began to swim with tears.

Cyn sat beside her. “Jules...” she said, brushing a strand of her soft golden hair behind Julia's ear as she kept her eyes wide so the tears wouldn't fall. “You don't have to say anything,” she said quietly. “Let's just get the hell out of here.” Julia's eyes scanned the expressions of all the expectant fey and Cyn added in a whisper, “Let them clean up their own back yard.” Julia felt her friend's eyes on her and her gaze swung back to Cyn. “We have plenty of fiascos back at the old home turf.”

Of course, Cyn was right; she'd always had a way of summing things up quickly. It wasn't gracefully stated but it was the truth. Sometimes lies were prettier but that's not what Julia needed right now and Cyn knew it.

“No kidding,” Adi mumbled in agreement.

Julia's eyes turned to the marbled floor beneath her feet, breathing in and out silently.
I will not cry
, she commanded herself. She felt so lost. William was gone, the soul meld obliterated by a magic she had just met. It's absence was a relief. It was also a shock and a loss.

The silence wore on. Finally, Tharell spoke. His deep rumbling voice resonated inside her breastbone, “It is done. The reign of Queen Darcel has been stopped by the bite of true death.” Julia looked up, noticing his glance was all for Delilah. But it returned unerringly to Julia. Her breath caught.

“We cannot keep you, Queen of the Singers. However... I think I might speak for the Sidhe warriors who remain…,” Domi and Celesta's silence allowed him to continue, “They would wish that those of your people, who desire,” Julia’s grief wasn't so complete that she couldn't see his struggle for delicacy, “to wed,” he finally spit out, “those of the fey,” he hesitated in the ponderously awkward silence then continued, “it would strengthen the line of the Sidhe and begin an alliance between our peoples.”

Julia looked around at the small court, many faces beautiful, all were haughty. The real question was: Did she want to help these people? After their ruler had almost forced her into being a part of their dysfunction against her will?

Julia wasn't sure if she was up to being clever and sighed, though her eyes remained steady on the mixed-blood Sidhe.

Tharell read her mind, his deep purple skin's wounds like black slashes against the bruised sky of sunset. “She is no more, Julia Caldwell. We would not have her ghost rule here. Yet rather, a real monarch. One without cruelty, one who seeks fairness, regardless of who needs it.” Julia met his serious gaze, his words so much more than what he'd uttered. Tharell wanted equality, a very human desire and Julia realized these supernaturals, for all their powers, wanted many human ideals. As she gazed around the room, she thought that would take time. Many of the faces showed they didn't agree with his stance. Not everyone would welcome the mixing of the fey and Singer. His vote was one drop of water in a bucket of uncertainty, of prejudice.

Julia didn't answer, instead she asked a question, “Who will... lead your people now that Queen Darcel is gone?”

“Dead,” Tharell corrected and couldn't hide his joy in the clear flash of his brilliant blue eyes. A slash of white appeared against his deep violet skin in a fierce grin of sheer pleasure. Julia had a recent memory of how Darcel dealt with her people. And Rex had been one of the perfect Sidhe she'd extolled. How would she have handled her half-breed guard? Judging by his expression, Julia thought badly,
very badly.

Julia waited for his answer as if the world held its breath.

“Would it be too much to ask that you rule here?” Tharell finally asked softly and Julia stood amongst the mumblings of the fey. It sounded like discordant dissent. Cyn stood beside her, not touching, just quietly offering her strength.

Julia took a deep breath, steadying herself. “It would,” she said in a tone of regret. “I'm sorry, but I have something that's more important than ruling, than healing... than anything.” She wasn't dismissing Tharell; she was just being honest. For the first time, she would be honest with herself because she finally could be. Julia turned to Jason and he looked down at her, their eyes falling into each other and Scott moved away so that Julia could do what she needed to do.

Julia couldn't have cared for Scott more than she did in that moment. He was giving her the ultimate freedom: choice. After what they'd been through together, she recognized it for the gift it was. She knew it hadn't been given without sacrifice.

In front of the fey and the most important people in their world, while the Were stood as witness, her known enemies, Jacqueline and Tony, and her unknown amongst the fey—Julia declared herself to her husband. Hope etched its spell in the very air they breathed.

“I'm sorry, Jason,” she began and he cupped his large palm against her face, having stood quietly by since William's death, since Tharell's words. The coarseness of his skin was exactly as Julia remembered, the smell of him equaling the footprint of those poignant memories exactly.

Some things remained the same; her guts clenched with the things that might have irreparably changed.

“Me too, Jules,” he answered in a whisper against the side of her mouth.

She steeled herself. Then, “Would you marry me?” she asked and Jason pulled his head back, a slow grin spreading across that face she knew so well.

“I thought we already were?” That nasty lapse of love-hate that had clung to them for months was now like a smear that left no stain. Gone, to be replaced with the love he'd held at bay. Out of fear of unrequited love.

Julia realized that he couldn't have been with her while she was also with others. Because what they'd had was true love and sometimes it didn't conquer all, but cannibalized itself until it disappeared from a person's life, the flames eating at each other until only embers remained.

In their case, Julia had caught the thread of it and wound it up tightly in her heart, until she found she could call it back.

Call Jason back. But would he answer?

William's death hadn't been for nothing. The collapse of the soul meld with Scott had been a blessing in disguise. Something good coming from tragedy.

Their love had survived the smoldering ashes of the battle of the fey. William's death eased the decision she'd already made and the meld had disappeared like smoke on the wind.

Gone but yielding to what now stood before them.

Their love was a blazing fire come full circle to consume them.

Jason bent low, putting his other hand up to cradle her face and Julia shut her eyes as those lips she knew so well, kissed her tears away and stroked her mouth until Julia kissed him back as if no time had passed.

Joy replacing the sorrow.

Hope taking the place of all.

*

Leaving

Julia moved through the door of the fey mound to the outside, Tharell's escort unnecessary but welcome. She'd been loaned a garment of the Sidhe, her blood soaked clothing no longer wearable, and too sad to consider it. It had been explained in great detail, that Darcel's reign had been filled with tyranny and the fey were hopeful for a new order. Julia wasn't sure over a thousand years of tradition could be expunged just because the nutcase ruler was absent. Maybe those long-held beliefs would prove stubborn. She still felt the echo of William's thoughts... his words, moving through her mind and it made the tender parts of her ache with the loss. He'd improved her life and now he was gone.

Julia learned that Queen Darcel had been dying a slow and painful death. Death that would never come but yet consume her slowly, in agony. She'd hoped to farm Julia's blood in a desperate attempt to relieve herself. And also relieve Julia of her life. Killing Julia to save herself. If Julia had lived through that cultivation, she would have been a brood mare for the Sidhe.

A role that was always riding on the periphery of her new life as a supernatural.

The briar behaved themselves as the line of fey wove between the branches, though some “tasted” of the non-fey who passed, the Sidhe touching the cold steel of their blades against the offending branches as they played a game of tug of war between blade and branch.

When Julia took her first breath of fresh air she clutched William's ashes tighter to herself, confused by her conflicted emotions. She was so blessedly glad to be alive, to have a chance with Jason. So sad to have lost William. And in some ways, the utter devotion of Scott. It was true that the soul meld had been too stifling for her, but conversely, there'd been a strange comfort of knowing her feelings weren't her own, but predestined.