Blood Before Sunrise (34 page)

“Certain animals do have the ability to travel between the realms.”

“How the hell did you figure all this out?” Because last time I checked, I hadn’t been invited to any Guardian orientation seminars. “How did you know the rules? Where to live, what to do? I mean, sorry, but it flat pisses me off that no one prepared me for any of this.” Good God, I was starting to sound like a broken record.

“Not that it matters now,” Moira said, “but we knew the first time we met you at the PNT Summit. Reaver was quite interested, and had the day gone more smoothly, we would have approached you at the conclusion of the day’s proceedings.”

By “more smoothly,” she meant if Delilah’s supposed kidnappers hadn’t dropped her off gift-wrapped and beaten to a pulp. The whole of the Summit’s participants had fled the facility in the midst of the drama. If I’d only known it was a setup and that I’d end up the kidnapped one, the whole thing would have gone down completely differently. “Reaver was
interested
?” I said. That was an understatement. He’d used magical influence to try to push me to my knees—and right at his feet—but he didn’t realize I don’t bow to anyone.

“No. I suppose you don’t.” Moira smiled, once again listening in on my thoughts. “But it wasn’t a show of strength on his part like you think.”

I stopped her, closed my eyes, and felt Brakae’s presence shift to the west and change course. “Then what was it?”

“He was testing your strength.”

“Did I pass?”

“That,” Moira said as she retrieved the bow slung across her shoulder, “has yet to be seen.”

Chapter 27

M
oira put a finger to her lips and tuned out everything around her as she closed her eyes and listened. I kept my mouth shut for a change, deciding I was far and above the wingman in this mission. The hairs on my arms and at the nape of my neck prickled, danger plucking at my senses. With silent fluidity, Moira slid an arrow from the quiver at her back and nocked the bow, drawing the string back taut, ready to shoot in the blink of an eye.

What is it?
Hey, she’d heard my thoughts before; it was worth a shot.

She opened one shrewd eye and then the other. Letting the bow string slacken, she held up two fingers, pointed to a stand of trees to our left, and motioned for me to flank the grouping at the side opposite her. I drew the long dagger—or maybe it was more of a short sword, depending on your perspective—making sure it would be ready when I needed it, and took off at a trot, careful not to stir even a blade of grass as I moved into position.

I shook off the pull of Brakae’s energy and turned my attention instead on the dense cover of trees. Crouching low, I continued to jog, mindful of Moira’s position as I went. As stealthy as my shadow-self, I stayed true to my assassin’s training, relying on the element of surprise to give me the upper hand. But when I got close enough to look my enemy in the eye, I felt my knees give a little under the weight of their combined energy. The six bodies waiting in the distance paced as if antsy and ready for a brawl. Wide mouths yawned, strong and lithe arms
stretched toward the sky, and feet stomped at the earth. I held my body rigid, refusing to allow the tremors that threatened to rip my composure to shreds. One enemy, I could handle. Hell, two or three—piece of cake. Gargoyles, Lyhtans, crazy-ass Sylphs, bring ’em on. But what the hell was I looking at right now? And how had Faolán imprinted them with the signature of his power?

Sea Nymphs
. Moira’s voice echoed in my mind.
Violent and very dangerous
.

I steeled myself against the fear eating me alive and against the doubts about my purpose and my strength. Teeth clenched to the point of grinding, I moved forward. Gut-check time. Now or never, do or die—all of that inspirational bullshit. Kill my enemies or die trying. But just as I dug my boots into the soft turf, prepared to throw myself into the action, I heard Moira’s voice in my mind as clear as if she were speaking right in my ear.
Not yet. Hold your position. If we startle them, they’ll be harder to kill
.

Harder than what?

The Nymphs moved with a lazy fluidity that reminded me of water lapping against the shore. Their skin shimmered in the light passing between the tree branches as if their bodies were peppered with droplets of diamonds. Long green hair swayed with every step like seaweed tossed in the surf, and their eyes—gorgeous and swirling with as many shades of blue as made up every body of water in existence. One snapped its powerful jaws, revealing triangular teeth, razor sharp and sharklike. Observation: Stay away from the mouth. Despite their purposeful strides, the Nymphs looked empty, their expressions hollow and detached. Tall, sure. Strong, you betcha. Those teeth, again—stay away from them…. But all in all they didn’t look like they’d be too hard to take down.

Don’t get too excited,
Moira’s thoughts warned.
Old, powerful magic. Remember? Easier to kill, perhaps. Easier to fight, definitely not. These creatures are under Faolán’s influence. Do not underestimate his ability or theirs
.

I’d been as good as Faolán’s marionette, strings and all. Who knows what I’d done in those moments when the world went dark and my memory lapsed? With no more exertion than a thought, he’d utterly controlled me. And now, it appeared he had a small troop of zombies at his disposal. I hoped Moira was reading me loud and clear, because we were without a doubt royally fucked.

Not yet
.

When things calmed down, this whole telepathy thing was really going to rub me the wrong way.

The silence that followed in my brain sent a zinging blast of adrenaline through my body. God, I needed Tyler right now—needed him like I needed the air filling my lungs. If I’d only opened up to him, I wouldn’t be standing here, waiting to go to the slaughter while time sped by at an incalculable rate at home. Why did I always have to shoulder everything on my own?

Darian, this is not the time for such thoughts. Ready yourself for battle instead
.

How about you shut up and get the fuck out of my head?
I mentally retorted.

If you want to get home to your Jinn, I suggest you put your worry aside and focus
.

“Focus” was the million-dollar word of the day. Armed with swords, axes, and spears, the Nymphs were battle-ready and waiting. Good thing I never backed down from a fight. I waited in silence, my mind a blank page, my heart rate slow and steady. Fear tickled at the edge of my senses, but Raif always said fear was what kept you alive in battle. I didn’t fight it, but I didn’t let it overtake me either.

I gripped the handle of the short sword and tested the balance, surprised that it felt as though it had been made for me. It didn’t sit well with me that I was about to fight creatures unaware of their own actions. But war was war, and the rules of morality did not apply. Kill or be killed. Protect the Keeper and the natural order. If I didn’t…the consequences were too terrible for me to comprehend.

Tension mounted, the air nearly soured by it. The Nymphs continued to pace, their empty eyes staring off into space. I knew it was time to charge into battle when Moira let the first arrow loose, the sound of its passage like a whisper before it struck one of the Nymphs in the neck.

I hurled myself from my hiding place, entering the fray with a battle lust that would have made Raif proud. I dedicated every slice, thrust, and stab to his teachings, a silent vow that I’d keep his daughter safe and reunite them if it killed me. Moira had managed to drop three of the six Nymphs, her aim impeccable and deadly. When she joined the fight with her bow slung across her shoulder, I was grateful to have her by my side. I have to admit, we made quite a pair, our blades ringing out in the quiet clearing, our enemies retreating under our unrelenting attack. It felt so right, fighting with her instead of against her, as if I’d finally found my place in the world.

Moira fought with a sword not unlike the weapon she’d given to me. A black blade with veins of glowing green. Hers was much longer, more of a broad sword than a saber. She handled its weight well. As she swung at the Nymphs coming at us, she maneuvered the weapon with as much precision as she would a dagger. Good thing, too. Those Nymphs were fast fuckers. Flanked on both sides with an attack coming at our center, I had no choice but to concentrate my efforts on one enemy at a time. The Nymphs took us on with a blade in each hand, making it feel as if we stood against six enemies instead of just three. But damn it, I wasn’t about to lose. Not when there was so much at stake. I emptied my mind of everything, save the fight. My sole focus became letting as much blood as possible. Swinging with a strength that surprised me, I caught the Nymph on my right with my blade, slicing open a nasty gash in his side.

From my left, the other Nymph came at me, sinking his razor-edged teeth into my forearm. I cried out, spun away from the one I’d cut, and with an upward sweep, drove the dagger through the Nymph’s chin and straight
up into his head. His eyes cleared for the barest instant, horror and confusion written in the depths of blue. I swallowed down the bile that rose in my throat as he rocked back, careened forward, and crumpled at my feet.

“Look out!” Moira called out just in time to save me from a sword thrust to my face.

I jumped back, narrowly avoiding the injured Nymph’s teeth. My sword arm stung, weakened by the tears in my flesh that oozed blood down to my fingertips. The dagger felt heavy in my grasp, but I lunged and swung, managing to nick my attacker’s shoulder before he spun away. Moira had her hands full at my side, distracting me as I watched her parry blow after blow, getting in a few good stabs of her own. I had to give her credit—the girl could fight.

A sudden, jarring pain blinded me, a thousand stars against a black sky in my vision. The world slipped away, and I fell, down…down…through the void until all that was left was welcome oblivion.

“Paris,” I said, tossing the postcard across the farm-style table. “You know, he’d be better off hiding somewhere like Wyoming or Montana. Paris is a little conspicuous,
wouldn’t you agree?”

Azriel nodded absently, his eyes swirling with a darkening storm. He hated the postcards almost as much as they intrigued me. “Lorik is a fool. And he has no intention of lying low. Not now, not ever.”

Tapping the postcard on the table, Azriel stared out the window as the rain battered the leaded panes before running in rivulets to the ground. I supposed we’d go out walking soon; he loved to be outside in the rain. “Why does he send them?” I asked, nodding at the postcard. “You know, don’t you?”

“There’s more to Lorik than meets the eye.” I could tell by his tone Azriel would not open the subject for discussion. “That’s all you need to know.”

“What is he to you?” We’d been receiving the postcards for almost a year. I wanted—no
needed—
to know why. “Why don’t you trust me enough to share your secrets with me?”

“What do you mean, love?” His words were spoken softly but carried a warning edge. “I share my
life
with you. Is that not enough?”

“Do you not think I can handle the truth? Is that why you keep things from me? Do you not think I’m strong enough? Capable?”

“What I do is for your protection.” He’d abandoned the facade of calm, heading down a path I knew better than to follow. “If I keep things from you, it is for your own good. Do not make me regret the decision to save your life, Darian. Leave all things to me and you will be safe. Accept that fact or risk your safety.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. He’d saved my life; he’d cared for me. How could I question him or doubt his honor for even one second? “I—I was just curious, that’s all. The postcards, they’re like a mystery. A puzzle to be solved.”

“Perhaps you need diversion,” Azriel said, pulling me onto his lap. His breath tickled where he lowered his lips to my throat. “You need no puzzle to solve or mysteries to unravel.” His lips were warm, soft, sending a ripple of pleasure across my skin. “You have me, and I am enough.”

My head rolled back on my shoulders as he unbuttoned my dress. Yes. I had him. And he would be with me. Always. I didn’t need to know the truth. I didn’t need to know anything besides that he loved me. He was enough.

And I trusted him.

Chapter 28

I
hadn’t trusted him.

I’d done to Tyler what Azriel had done to me all those years ago. I’d taken control of him and the situation, and I hadn’t trusted him to be my partner, my equal. I’d used my body to distract him. I’d treated him as if he were weak, beneath me, and he knew it. I’d expected him to blindly trust me without offering anything in return. And I’d left him.

I reached for my thumb, touching the skin that had been worn smooth by Tyler’s ring. What had Faolán done with it? I needed it. I needed to feel that part of Tyler on my body.

“Darian,” Moira said, not so gently slapping my cheek. “Darian, can you hear me?”

No. Well, I didn’t want to anyway. Admitting I could hear her was acknowledging this reality, the fact that I’d dug myself a hole I couldn’t get out of, and had more than likely lost the only thing in my life I cared about.

“Darian.” She slapped me harder this time, and my head throbbed where I’d been hit. Lovely. Just
lovely
.

“I can hear you fine,” I said, venturing to open one eye and then the other. “But if you slap me like that again, you’re going to be the one unconscious.”

“Get up,” she laughed. Apparently she didn’t consider me a threat. “We have to keep going.”

Slowly, oh,
so
slowly, I brought myself to a sitting position. Damn, I hated how susceptible to injury I was in this place. My head bobbed on my shoulders, and the effort it took to support its weight made me want to lie
back down. I reached tentative fingers through hair matted with blood, wincing as I made contact with a large gash.