Night Seeker (39 page)

Luna looked taller in the candlelight, and it was obvious she was in a trance, her eyes were glazed as she held tight to Grieve’s feet. The music snaked and crawled, coiled around us, an ancient melody, dripping with power as it flowed effortlessly from her lips.

Kaylin cried out, stiffening. He leaned back as far as he could, his back arching, but still he held Grieve’s head in his hands. My beloved Grieve looked in pain, and yet—and yet—my wolf did not whimper, nor was he afraid. Instead,
as I let myself connect with him, I felt a wonder, and a sudden field of stars flashed in front of my eyes. I could see them—the stars—they were filling my vision, filling my sight, and their beauty was far-reaching and cold, aloof.

The drum continued its slow, steady cadence, forcing our attention. Luna’s voice interwove with it, rising and dipping, swirling like an ancient instrument, so smoothly that never once did I hear her catch her breath. I focused on her singing, followed the note, trying to find my sweet wolf again, but the way was blocked, and I realized, in a sudden whisper from Ulean, that I was not allowed to take part in what Kaylin and Luna were doing.

If you are with him, it will disrupt the ritual. He must walk through this darkness alone. Kaylin and Luna are the only ones here who can guide him.

As much as I didn’t want to hear this, I accepted it and went back to holding the Element of Air—keeping it steady as the four of us kept the circle intact.

A sudden crack of thunder filled the room, startling us, but not once did we waver. As we looked up, a field of stars spread across the ceiling overhead. But some were caught in a maelstrom of mist—a swirling cerulean storm. I realized we were seeing the links that connected Myst and Grieve, her energy field imposed over his through her turning him.

As Kaylin sucked in a deep breath, the mist began to disperse, unweaving and retreating. Grieve began to thrash, but Kaylin and Luna held tightly to him, and the restraints kept him on the table.

Some of the fog surrounding the stars seemed impenetrable; it would not budge, though I could see the rocking energy trying to dislodge it. But most of the outer edges whispered away, vanishing. As Kaylin strained, trying to unweave the thickest part of Myst’s energy, Grieve let out a scream and Luna’s voice stumbled as he ripped the cords binding him to the table and broke free from the table.

Kaylin leaped toward him as Grieve, holding his head and moaning, staggered toward the edge of the circle near my father. Wrath dropped his hands and lunged forward, catching Grieve as he sank to the floor, thrashing in a
horrible convulsion. I let go of the air, racing across the room, not giving a damn about the broken circle.

As I fell to my knees near my love, my wolf began to howl in pain, and I began to shake and quiver, unable to control myself. Grieve and I had somehow become bound, in such a way that his pain became my pain—we’d experienced it before, but I’d thought that we might have broken those cords.

Anadey—Peyton’s mother—had turned on us, casting a spell to break the cords between Grieve and me, knowing very well that it might kill us. The spell had worked to some degree—the venom of the Vampiric Fae no longer held me in thrall when I was bitten by them, but we had not known just how far she’d managed to disrupt things.

Wrath reached out to Grieve, did something—I couldn’t see what—and Grieve slumped to the floor. The convulsions wracking my body stopped immediately, and I slumped, aching and frightened but free from the seizure.

I scrambled to my hands and knees, crawling over to Grieve. “My love, my love…is he…he isn’t…” I couldn’t think of him being dead.

But Wrath eased my fear. “He sleeps. I put him into a deep slumber for now, until we figure out what’s going on.”

“I know what happened.” Kaylin paled, looking nervously at the prone form of my lover. “I went too far in trying to unravel Myst’s energy from his. I didn’t realize I was at the core—the part that cannot be undone. And I tried to push beyond that boundary line—”

“I saw you do that. I could see what you were doing.” I took hold of one of Grieve’s hands, rocking gently as I brought it to my chest. “I thought the rest of you could, too.”

“No.” Chatter shook his head. “I could see something—but it was a blur and I had no idea what it was.” Rhia and Wrath nodded in agreement.

“You could, because of your link to him. If I had pushed too far”—Kaylin grimaced—“you could have died with him.”

“When Grieve dies, I die. We thought that before, when Myst punished him and I took the punishment on my own
body. Now I think we know it’s true.” Oddly enough, I wasn’t afraid—not terribly.

I wasn’t the type of person to live my life for another, although it seemed like I’d done that for my mother, but Grieve—he and I were two parts of a whole. We’d created a bond that would outlast death, and I knew that if something happened in this lifetime, we would return together again and again until we finally managed to get it right. But, having said that, I wasn’t ready to die yet. I wasn’t ready to let Myst win. I wanted to grow old with Grieve.

Wrath leaned down and lifted Grieve in his arms. “I think he should go into the realm of Summer. He’ll be protected there and maybe the healers can do more for him now. At least some of Myst’s curse is lifted—some of the threads undone.”

“Will Lainule allow that?” I had thought that she’d proscribed him from entering her realm, but then again, she had bid him come with us on the journey to find her heartstone. I had a feeling the Queen of Rivers and Rushes knew more about what was unfolding than she was letting on.

“Oh, she will. It is daylight—the vampires sleep and so does the Indigo Court. I will take him, along with my guards. Do nothing until I return. Today we hunt down Myst in her lair. Today we go to war and I will bring reinforcements.” He caught my gaze.

I nodded, swallowing a lump in my throat. “We will prepare. I am taking my obsidian blade into battle.”

Wrath frowned. “I do not like it, but then that usually doesn’t stop you, daughter. Do what you will. But neither you nor Rhiannon nor Chatter can fall. Grieve…we have to make sure he survives this. So if you find yourself in danger, pull back. Let another take your place.”

“Why is this so important? What are you not telling me?” I wanted answers. I was tired of being a pawn in this convoluted game. Something big was going down and if I was going to be a part of it, I wanted to know what.

“Don’t question me, girl—”

“Don’t you think you owe her the truth, Wrath?” A voice from the door cut him off. It was Ysandra Petros,
standing there with the three remaining members of the Consortium. Peyton looked at me apologetically and shrugged.

They were dressed for battle, looking a bit worse for the wear considering what had happened. She strode in, all business—whether she was wearing a prim dress or a weatherproof jumpsuit, Ysandra Petros remained fully in charge.

“I think this matter is no concern of yours.” My father stared at her, his eyes narrowing.

“I think it’s
every
concern of ours…the Vampiric Fae are a plague on us all, a danger to everyone. And what has happened so far will change the future playing field. Cicely and Rhiannon deserve to know more than you’ve told them, if only to reinforce the necessity of them staying alive during this battle.”

Ysandra’s lips were pursed and she looked pissed. I’d never seen someone stand up to Wrath—except for Lannan, and even he cowered when push came to shove.

My father grumbled, shaking his head. “It’s too soon—”

“When
will
be the time? When she goes charging in, trying to help save the day, and finds herself in the jaws of one of the Shadow Hunters? She has no more clue as to what’s happening than the mass of yummanii and Weres out there who are counting their dead from the night’s feast. You cannot protect her forever.” Ysandra pointed at me, shouting now. “The die has been cast, the bargain made. The girls have sealed their fate. They deserve to know what’s going on. I warned you of this, years back, before you refused our help. I knew this was coming from the beginning.”

“From the beginning? What do you mean, from the beginning?” I turned to her, blinking. “How long have you known about this? Why isn’t anybody being straight with me? Did you know what was happening when you came to the house the first time? I’m getting fucking tired of being left out of the loop!”

Rhiannon joined me, slipping her arm around my waist. “I want to know, too. If I’m involved, I need to know. I helped kill my mother the other day because of what Myst
did to her. I demand to know what’s going on. And I want to know why I was able to see that door that only those with Cambyra blood are supposed to be able to see.”

We stood, a frozen tableau. Wrath glanced at Ysandra, then to Rhia and me, uncertainty filling his face. I almost felt sorry for him—it was obvious he was struggling with a decision.

Kneeling beside Grieve, I turned to Chatter, who was sitting on the floor beside my Fae Prince, lifting him so that Grieve’s head was resting on his lap.

“How is he?”

“Sleeping deeply. It’s hard to tell what’s going to happen when he wakes up. He should be monitored. I thought we were taking him to the realm of Summer?” Chatter glanced at Wrath, and it seemed like the frightened Fae I’d met upon my return to New Forest had vanished. He was strong, almost regal.

Wrath let out a long breath. “I suppose it is time to tell you the truth. I’m not sure what Lainule will say, though.”

“I say we should tell them.” Lainule’s voice echoed through the room. “We must sort things out in order to rout Myst this afternoon, and to do that you must know the past as well as your future.” She pushed Ysandra out of the doorway as she entered the room, followed by eight strapping Fae warriors. “I have brought an army—they are outside, awaiting our orders. I also brought healers. We march to reclaim our land today.”

I twisted around, still holding Grieve’s hand. “Please, can you help Grieve?”

“Attend him.” Lainule moved to the side as a woman stepped from behind her and entered the room.

She was Cambyra Fae and a healer—the energy rolled off of her from across the room. She silently glided across the floor like some ethereal spirit to kneel beside Grieve. Motioning for Chatter and me to move, she felt Grieve’s pulse, then brushed his hair back and placed a hand on his forehead.

A moment later, she began to hum, and Luna moved forward, as if called by the song. The healer looked up at
her, nodded, and Luna knelt beside her and began to match harmonies, blending her voice with the voice of the healer. As they worked in unison, the healer gestured to Zoey, who began to match their cadence with a slow beat. As the soft fall of her hand swept the head of the drum, Luna and the healer began to sing.

As their voices fell to a whisper, Grieve’s eyes began to flutter, and he moaned, but this time there was no pain and my wolf began to stir. I pressed my hand to my stomach as he sat up, but again—I felt no pain, only the joy of consciousness, and a freedom that I’d never before experienced.

The healer and Luna lifted him to a sitting position, holding him steady as he struggled for a moment, then sucked in a deep breath.

“Grieve?” I moved forward, slowly, not wanting to startle him.

He looked up at me, and the stars were still in his eyes, but they were changed somehow—they weren’t frightening, only beautiful and vivid against the black backdrop. The feral edge I’d sensed when I first returned had fled. He might be Indigo Court, but he was my Grieve once more, and he smiled when he saw me and held up his arms.

“Cicely, my beautiful Cicely.” His voice cracked then, and he slowly sat up, shaking his head. “I’ve come back to you, as far as I ever can return. Myst…she holds no power over me anymore.”

“Grieve, my Grieve.” I gathered him in my arms, kissing
his cheeks, his forehead, his lips. “My beloved. You are free.”

“I will always be Indigo Court, but now I am free of the compulsion to hunt. I will always have the dangerous edge in my nature to cope with, but I can control it.” He struggled to his feet. “I feel both stronger, and weaker.”

“The violent nature of their blood gave you extra strength, young Prince. But you will regain the strength without the fury behind it as you get used to this new state of being.” Lainule motioned to Wrath and he moved to her side. She turned to Rhiannon and me. “And now we will tell you what you wish to know. But understand: You may not be prepared for what you hear.”

I nodded. Whatever it was, as long as Grieve was by my side, I’d weather the news. Rhiannon moved to my side and we held hands, waiting.

“We’re ready,” she said. “I want to know who my father is. And do I bear Wrath’s blood in my veins, like Cicely? Am I part Fae?”

Lainule looked at Wrath, who let out a long sigh.

“No, you are not
my
daughter,” he said.

“Then who was my father?” Rhia looked like she might cry. She’d waited all her life to know who her father had been, and when Heather died, it looked like there was no chance of finding out.

Lainule looked at her. “You are my niece,” she said. “My brother sired you—you are his child. He was killed during the battle with Myst. You are part Cambyra like your cousin. And as my closest female heir, you, my dear, will be the next Queen of Summer, even as Cicely becomes the new mistress of Winter.”

And with that, our world shifted forever.