Fleeing Fate (8 page)

Jakuta found himself hesitating, wanting to retreat, but in
his heart he knew there was no going back. Gràinne touched her lips to his,
then leaned back. Her tears had ceased, her eyes were clear, sad, filled with
love.

“I’m not afraid anymore.” Her arms tightened around him. “I
can’t believe what we’ve found will die. If the Goddess wills it, we will meet
again.”

He clenched his teeth, holding back the moisture stinging
the backs of his eyes. “By the Orixás, I will never forget you, Gràinne
Bairdie.” Pushing forward, he entered her, groaned as the slick heat of her
gave way, welcomed his cock, surrounded it in a satin-clad fist. Pausing to
catch his breath, he looked deep into her intoxicating eyes, let himself be
pulled into both her body and gaze. “I’ll always love you, sweetness.”

Her legs, arms, pussy all tightened around him, and a hint
of a smile ghosted over her lips. “I’ll see you on the other side, Jakuta
Dagbo.”

Pulling back was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. A
part of him wanted to move, to plunge into her, while another wanted just to
stay still, remain joined with her like this forever. Withdrawing until just
the head of his cock remained inside, he bent to capture her lips. When he
thrust into her sweet softness, she cried out into his mouth and he swallowed
the sound, adding it to the storm of emotion gathering momentum in his belly.

Keeping the pace steady, deep and strong, he made love to
her, kissing her, his tongue thrusting in time with his cock. Her body rocked
and twisted with his, growing more frantic, just as the sounds she breathed and
sobbed into his mouth grew more desperate. The storm swept him, the lightning
flashing, joining with the clench and pulse of her body to set him afire
within.

Intention.

He paused mid-thrust, his head coming up, clouded with the
pleasure, not sure he’d actually heard the whisper, or if it was his
imagination.

Intention—and elemental fire.

“Praise be to the Orixás.”

Gràinne didn’t seem to hear him, to realize anything had
changed. Her nails dug into his ass, her body rocked with desperate desire
beneath him. Her pussy tightened, rippled around his cock, and he knew she was
on the verge of orgasm.

Filled with hope, with power, he pressed down, holding her
trapped beneath his hips. Grabbing her cheeks, he called her name, waited until
her eyes fluttered open. He didn’t think, just said the words as the Orixás
gave them to him.

“Wail, little banshee. Wail for the end of this life, and
the beginning of the next.”

“No.” Her eyes widened and she went stiff, her hands coming
up to push against his chest, even as her inner muscles clenched around him.
“No. I can’t. If I do the Council will find me.”

He couldn’t help the smile bursting across his face. “That
doesn’t matter, sweetness. Trust me.”

Gràinne’s eyes searched his for a moment, and then she
nodded. When he thrust again, angling his body so the entire length of his cock
slammed home into her, he saw her head go back, her mouth open. He didn’t know
what to expect, but it wasn’t the high, melodious sound issuing from her
throat, echoing through the room and, he was sure, far out into the night.

But there was no time to marvel at her banshee wail. Emotion
had become a firestorm and as it whipped through him, taking them both closer
to orgasm with each frantic motion of body against body, he lowered his mouth
to her breast.

Elemental fire he had in abundance, thanks to the Orixás.
The shape and size of the sigil was emblazoned on his brain. The fire rose in
his throat, filled his mouth, and he pictured the mark as the heat passed from
him into her skin.

Her body bowed beneath his, the cadence of her wail
changing, going higher. Her pussy clamped around his cock, rippling, milking
him, and he lifted his head to join his voice with hers in a wild duet of
release.

The orgasm hit like a hailstorm, battering and stunning him,
draining all thought from his head, locking his muscles in a rictus of
pleasure. Beneath him Gràinne arched and shuddered, her voice falling silent,
her hands going limp and sliding from his body. But her inner muscles kept
convulsing, prolonging his ecstasy until he thought one more moment would
surely kill him.

Somehow he kept his arms locked despite their trembling,
held his body above hers. The blood still thundered through his veins, but the
storm had abated, the energy expended by the act of marking her. Disentangling
his body from hers, he pried his eyes open and looked first at the inner curve
of her breast, wanting to be sure he had actually been successful. The sigil
still glowed, fiery against her skin, and Jakuta let his head drop forward in
relief.

“Thank the Orixás.”

He’d never meant a paean of praise as fervently as he did
that one. Lifting his head, he smiled at Gràinne, opened his mouth to ask how
she felt.

She was limp, pale, not moving—not breathing.

Gone.

Jakuta held her, unable to believe he hadn’t been successful
in saving Gràinne. Had he been too late? Had the barrage of emotion been too
much, despite his giving her the mark?

No answers came to him and a haze surrounded his brain,
blocking all emotion. All he knew was that it was over, and he’d failed.

Again.

How long he stayed there, holding her still form, he didn’t
know. Eventually, when even the outline of the sigil had faded to a dark mark,
all fire erased, he forced himself to rise, pull on his pants. Taking one of
the linen drapes Hervé kept for his more prudish clients, Jakuta put it over
Gràinne. But he couldn’t bring himself to cover her face.

That would make it too final.

Kneeling beside the daybed, he gently swept her hair back
from her cheeks, traced the line of her brow, the curve of her lower lip. Even
now her beauty called to him, wrenched at his heart. Was it truly only a few
hours before that she’d come into the café? He felt as though he’d known her
forever, had lost the only thing of importance in his life.

I’ll see you on the other side, Jakuta Dagbo.

Her voice came to him, as though on the wind, and he
squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his fists to hold back the roar of pain
building in his chest. Did she remember him, wherever she was? Did she know how
much he cared, that he would give his own life to have her back again?

Realistically he knew there probably wouldn’t have been
anything lasting between them. She’d been going through a metamorphosis,
evolving into a being with the emotions most took for granted. He didn’t expect
what she felt for him to last, but that didn’t matter. Even seeing her walk
away would be preferable to this aching, all-encompassing sense of loss. At
least then he’d know she was still out there, somewhere, laughing, smiling,
living.

The agony expanded, pressing on his heart, demanding
release. He had to get away, go somewhere remote, find a place where he could
wreak as much havoc as he wanted without hurting anyone else. But there would
be questions to answer about her death, people to inform, although he wasn’t
sure exactly who to tell. Ula would know. He’d go talk to her, explain what had
happened. The sooner he got started, the quicker he could get away. Levering
himself to his feet, he took a couple of steps toward the door then stopped, unable
to go on.

The anguish burst from him so suddenly he didn’t have time
to curb, temper or control it. His roar of agony shook the room, took him to
his knees, went on and on until his lungs were empty, he was empty, all thunder
gone, all lightning extinguished.

When the door flew open, he hardly had the energy to lift
his head.

“Jakuta—”

Jasmina stood in the doorway, her face pale, her dark eyes
wide as she looked from him to Gràinne’s body. Behind her were others, but he
couldn’t find the strength to care who they were. Then one stepped forward,
brushing past the jinn to enter the room. A female, wearing a white suit. Her
long face was pale, her eyes blue as ice and just as cold.

“So, we are too late.”

The cool, unemotional tones grated on his nerves, brought
Jakuta to his feet. He put his body between her and the daybed, causing the
woman’s gaze to flicker to him before immediately returning to Gràinne.

“Who are you?”

He put all the thunder he could into the question, although
there was little of anything left in him except pain.

Once more the woman’s gaze flicked his way. “I am Eevul,
head of the Banshee Council. We’ve been searching for Gràinne, followed her
wail here, hoping to save her.”

Three other banshees had crowded in behind her but kept
their distance, allowing Eevul to take the front position. Jasmina transported
herself to Jakuta’s side, laid her hand on his arm.

“What’s going on, Jakuta?” The worry in her voice was
apparent. “What happened to that woman?”

“There is nothing to concern you here, jinn,” Eevul said in
her cold, clear voice, finally giving them her full attention. “Gràinne
destroyed herself. There will be no repercussions for anyone. We will collect
the body and be gone. No one will know what happened here tonight except us.”
For a moment her eyes seemed to glitter, grow colder. “And I’m sure it is in
your best interests not to let anyone know a client died in your
establishment.”

“No.” Jakuta stepped forward, shrugged off Jasmina’s
detaining arm. “Gràinne doesn’t belong to you anymore, banshee. I’ll take care
of her now.”

Both he and Eevul ignored Jasmina’s murmur of protest. He
locked gazes with the banshee, suddenly flooded with strength, ready to fight,
destroy her if need be to keep Gràinne safe from the cold world she fled.

“You have no claim on her.” Eevul’s voice showed no
difference in tone, but her eyes narrowed slightly. “It is up to us, as her
sisters, to give her a proper farewell.”

“You can’t.” He clenched his fists to stop from blasting the
banshee into the hereafter. “She wasn’t one of you anymore when she died. She
was a being full of emotion, overcome with it. You aren’t capable of giving her
the sendoff she deserves.”

If it were possible, he would have thought Eevul went even
paler. The three banshees behind her exchanged looks. One stepped a little
closer to address him.

“You say Gràinne had recovered her emotions?”

Jakuta didn’t take his eyes off Eevul as he answered, “Yes.”

“That was always a possibility,” Eevul interjected, turning
to the other banshee. “She took the rune and although she shouldn’t have been
able to do anything with it, there was still the chance it might affect her.”

“It shouldn’t have affected her that strongly.” The banshee
who had come closer pressed the point, although there was no emotion in the
words. “The process was supposed to be irreversible. That is what was promised
to us all.”

“What process?” Jakuta addressed her, holding up his hand
when Eevul would have spoken, speaking over her when she tried to interrupt.
“Gràinne said the banshees were one of the races who came out of the raising,
after the Great Purge. Is that not correct?”

Once again the banshees exchanged looks, but none answered.
Jakuta turned his attention back to Eevul, stepped a little closer. “You might
as well tell me. I won’t stop until I find out the truth. That woman gave her
life looking for answers, and I have no problem with wreaking havoc on your
Council until I find them on her behalf.”

“Why would you care?” Eevul gave him a cold stare. “This has
nothing to do with you.”

Lightning sparked in his belly and the lights dipped with
his anger. “I’m making it my business. Tell me now or tell me later, but I will
find the truth.”

“Tell him, Eevul.” The banshee who’d said nothing up to this
point spoke. “There is no point in not doing so. We can end this here and now.”

But Eevul merely turned slightly away, as though distancing
herself from the discussion. After a hesitation one of the others spoke.

“The banshees were not created through the raising, but
were, nonetheless, a product of the Great Purge. After the Purge many of those
who had been there and saw what befell the combatants were unable to live with
the memories. This was especially true of the wives who followed their husbands
on campaign. They were offered the opportunity to forget, to start life over
with emotion and memories stripped away and trapped in the runes for eternity.
There are a few of us on the Council who know the truth. The others don’t
remember, wouldn’t care. We keep to ourselves to avoid kinsmen recognizing
those they thought lost.”

“Gràinne made the same choice as the rest of us,” Eevul
spoke again. “I don’t know what happened to her, or why. Nor do I care.” She
turned, pointed to the daybed, and Jakuta felt the air around him stir with her
power. “Take her body, and the rune. Our business is concluded here. Destroy
him if he tries to meddle.”

Jakuta readied himself for a fight but, instead of following
Eevul’s direction, the three banshees seemed frozen in place. Eevul stepped
back, her eyes not on Jakuta, but on a spot over his shoulder.

“You lie, Eevul.” Jakuta froze too, too afraid to turn, to
see whether Gràinne’s voice was just a figment of his imagination. “I didn’t
have a choice, didn’t want to forget. The transformation was forced on me—by
you.”

Finally he found the strength to turn and look, the breath
catching deep in his chest at the sight of her standing there, wrapped in the
linen drape. She seemed even more alive than before, if that were possible.
There was a hint of natural color in her cheeks, her hair was more golden and
had a slight wave. When she glanced at him, Jakuta realized her eyes were smoky
gray instead of sea-foam green. It was as though she’d been a pale reflection
of herself before and now was colorized, brought to vivid life.

And there was new power within her too, magic that hadn’t
been there before. It rose and swelled, and his stirred anew to feel it.

She took his breath away.

Eevul’s magic seemed to intensify too, pushing out into the
room as though reaching for Gràinne. He turned toward her, ready to strike out
with his power, but before he could intervene there was a rush of sensation as
Gràinne repelled Eevul’s spell, causing the head of the Banshee Council to
grunt and step back.

However, it didn’t take any time for her to recover. Eevul’s
voice was bland as she said, “Gràinne. We’re happy to see you’ve survived. But
obviously your ordeal has caused some damage to your mind. Give me the rune and
come with us. We’ll take care of you, bring you back to yourself.”

Jakuta wanted to turn back to look at Gràinne, but something
about the way Eevul held her body coiled tight told him not to take his eyes
off her.

Gràinne laughed, but it was a harsh, disbelieving sound.
“Call me Badb, as you once did, Eevul, and for once in your life speak the
truth. Taking care of me means once more stealing my life, my magic. I’m sorry
to disappoint you, but that’s impossible now. It’s too late to undo what’s been
done.”

Eevul turned her head slightly to speak to the other
banshees, even as her gaze remained fixed on Gràinne. “Search the room. Find
the rune.”

“It’s not here.” Gràinne stepped up beside him, the power
coming off her in waves to roll with amazing force over his body. “It is hidden
where you will never find it. And even if you did, there is nothing you could
do with it to hurt me again.”

There was a swish as the drape fell from her hands, and
Jakuta saw all four women’s gazes drop to her tattoo. Even the emotionless
banshees seemed stunned, and Jakuta wondered exactly how little they really
felt, if some had more capacity for emotion than others. He received an answer
to that question far sooner than he expected, as Eevul’s face contorted with a
vicious sneer.

“The great goddess Badb. Traitor. Murderer.” Her fingers
curled into talons, and she braced as though to spring at Gràinne. “Making you
banshee was better than you deserved. I would have annihilated you if I had the
power, but you were too strong. Instead I stole from you what you’d stolen from
me—the life that could have been.”

She didn’t have a chance to attack, as she seemed set to do,
for the two banshees closest to her stepped forward, grasping her arms. They
must have done something to negate her magic, which was abruptly curtailed.
Eevul laughed, even as she twisted, trying to escape.

“You’re a thief, Gràinne Bairdie. I accuse you of theft of a
magical object. You will surrender yourself to the authorities. You think
you’re free, but I will make sure you are never free again.”

“That rune was imbued with my stolen emotions and memories.
No fey court will find me guilty of theft for taking what was rightfully mine.”
Gràinne sounded strong, so alive Jakuta’s heart leapt and his stomach clenched.
“You, on the other hand, stole my emotions, the life I was entitled to. I think
they will find that a far more heinous crime.”

“It was worth it, to see the great traitor Badb reduced to
an emotionless cipher.” Eevul whispered it, her voice taking on an edge of
madness. “You took everything we valued, betrayed your own. We would have ruled
this world if not for you. Memories are long, Badb. They will spit upon you in
the street, just as I spit upon you now.”

Finally he could look at her again and once he had, Jakuta
couldn’t take his gaze off Gràinne. Pain shadowed her eyes at Eevul’s words but
although he wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms, something about
her stiff posture kept him away.

There was the sound of a scuffle and Jakuta turned to see
Eevul being dragged out the door by two of her companions. The third lingered, her
eyes on Gràinne, concern tightening the corners of her lips.

“We will have to check each of the recruits Eevul brought to
us after the Purge, to ensure there are no more like you.” She seemed to sigh
slightly, her gaze turning inward for a moment, then returned to Gràinne’s
face. “Our entire way of life has been jeopardized by this. Up until tonight I
would have sworn all banshee were that way by choice. If this matter becomes
known, women who wanted nothing more than peace may be forced to accept memories
and emotions they no longer know how to bear.”

“Take any you have doubts about to the room where the runes
are kept.” She bent to pick up the drape and wrapped it around herself again.
“My rune called to me, as though it knew I hadn’t surrendered myself willingly.
Perhaps the others will react the same.”

The banshee nodded, relief flitting over her features. “I
have been in the room where the runes are kept, felt no draw to any particular
one. That may be the answer we seek.” She started to turn away, hesitated. “Can
we count on your discretion in this matter? You have my word that we will deal
severely with Eevul. It will do no good for others to know the truth of who,
what, we are.”