Soul Kissed (20 page)

He bowed over her—sorcerer, lover, friend—filling her up so that there was no room for anything else. And she held onto him with all her strength.

She didn’t know how—her brain was too loose to make a plan—but she wasn’t going to let him go.

“See?” Kaye Brand dropped her purse on the bare floor of what would be her sitting room—when they had time to shop for furniture—and turned to face Bastian, her eyes flashing. She was ready for his bad mood, but she headed him off with, “Home safe and sound.”

Her confidence felt a little thin, beaten as it was by the hammering of her pulse these past two hours that she’d been meeting with the senator and the Special Committee on Shadow. The rising furor against magic had to be stopped or someone was going to get hurt. The crowd around Dolan House was swelling, not settling down. She had to make it clear that the Houses would reciprocate against violence if the law wouldn’t or couldn’t protect them.

“The Order could have handled it,” Bastian cut back and slammed the door behind him.

“The Order cannot be the executor of mage Council business.” The tolerance of the Houses where angels were concerned was already strained, especially with the rogue on the loose. She was barely holding on to the Houses as it was.

His hands to her shoulders, he restrained her now as he couldn’t before. She actually kind of liked it, so she leaned forward to brush her mouth across his, adding a little sex to his fury. Her angry man.
Just try to boss me.

The ice in his eyes belied the heat underneath. “It is too dangerous for you,” he said, “for the Council, for peace, for you to leave your wards. I won’t let you do it again, not for anything.”

“I’ll do what I must.” She loved to bait him. It was one of her favorite things, ever. Better than shopping. A close second to sex.

“You don’t think I can stop you?” A threat.

She smiled darkly. “I think you’ve met your match, or do you need me to demonstrate?”

The light in his eyes shifted. A shadow of pain. “Kaye—”

That tone in his voice, her Bastian wounded, did more than his arguments could have.

So she softened, too. Where he led, she couldn’t help but follow. “It’ll never be completely safe, Bastian.”

“You don’t have to keep proving how brave you are.”

“Yes, actually I do.” And all the Houses had to see it, or else they’d forget. Kaye Brand, firemage, did and would continue to burn every day, every night, under any circumstance. “It’s what holds their respect, that I will do what needs be done. And you were there to protect me, as always.”

Tensions had escalated perilously high, rivaling the time of Ferrol Grey’s tenure in the High Seat of the Council. The threats came from all sides now and whispers had begun that perhaps Grey’s plan had been the better one after all. What would Grey have done about the plague? Something definitive and foul. Would he have tolerated the mob growing around Dolan House? Not for a minute.

“Stop it,” Bastian said. “Do not begin to doubt yourself.”

Kaye smiled. “At least now you’re arguing my side.”

“I’m always on your side.”

Her thoughts had shaken her, and she could think of one easy way to feel good again. She’d bet her considerable shoe collection that Bastian would cooperate.

She stepped back out of his reach, and with a smile that promised utter sin and ruination, started down the buttons of her blouse. Soul-hungry desire filled Bastian’s eyes. The silk fell to the floor. The pencil skirt next, with a zip to the side. She wiggled her hips to help it fall. The slip floated down a second later. She stood in her underwear and heels, and stretched her arms overhead, both to lift her breasts to show them to their best advantage and to ease the tension ache at the small of her back.

Bastian did come to her, as she knew he would. She didn’t understand the pull between them, but couldn’t ever deny it either. She was his; he was hers. The universe had decreed it so. Didn’t matter that she was born to Shadow, and he to Light.

He grabbed her raised arm, so gently, stroking the hollow of her armpit with his fingertips.

“This is new,” she observed. “I’m not saying I’m not into it, but—”

Actually, he was making her hot. He always made her hot.

“Burn, Kaye,” he commanded. His voice had gone harsh, so she knew he was worried.

She craned her head to look, too, and found blackening fine lines converging into an abscess under her arm. Even Bastian’s softest caress ached.

Her mouth went dry. Tremors began to shake her, when she’d made sure that she never showed fear. Her legs buckled, but as always, Bastian was there to catch her. He lowered her to the floor. “You need to burn. Burn this sickness out of you. Come back new.”

He was so calm. Her soldier, battling himself.

Plague. Few survived this. She could name three mages, not including Mason. The poison had taken the strong and weak alike. It could take her.

“Burn.” Bastian held her.

And that’s how she knew he was scared, too, in spite of how composed he seemed. He wasn’t thinking. Faefire burns on angelic skin never healed. He had a trophy on his arm from last year, and it would sear his skin for the rest of his life.

She could feel the sickness now, poisoning her Shadow within. She was used to heat, but this didn’t come from her. It lacked the erotic pulse and shimmer of Twilight. This heat scorched in a way that fire never had before. It crackled and ached as it raced through her body. A terrible pressure pained her chest. She had to do this now.

She pushed Bastian away. He fought for a moment, and then let her go so that she could have her chance. She would never forget the unblinking agony on his face as he crouched nearby.

Kaye had never been so happy, so relieved, he wasn’t Shadow born so that he would not be taken up.

She reached for the drumbeat of her umbra, the bit of her that was elemental, which was power. She stoked it upward, carelessly, accelerant to flame, and gave herself to the eruption.

 

 

Bastian rocked in a near-fetal position. His head was roaring, senses rough as he watched.

Kaye was burning again, a second fiery molt, this time silently. Every time she came back—her power resurrection—the plague ate at her again. Sooner or later she wouldn’t want to return; she would linger in Twilight rather than face the pain and horror another time.

He was tempted to grab hold and burn with her. Remind her to come back or follow her into darkness. Anything was better than this.

“We have confirmation.”

Mason opened the door wider to let Custo inside the small suite. That the angel had come up here to speak to them privately meant he was respecting the deals made by Brand and Bastian. The results of the blood test were back.

Cari came out of the bedroom, dressed just in time, a questioning look on her face. “What’s going on?”

Mason directed Custo to a chair with a quick nod. “Have a seat.”

Cari came to the correct conclusion. “Who is it?”

Mason took her hand and tugged her toward the couch opposite the chair. She was better now. There had been a moment before when he’d been worried for her. Strong, dutiful Cari grappling with bad news after more bad news. But her gaze was as direct as ever. Her composure set. Maybe the Dolan aptitude for Shadow was really courage.

“The blood belongs to the rogue angel, Xavier, the same one who attacked you outside Vauclain House.”

Mason groaned. The angel. So much for Brand and Bastian’s peace. Maybe Cari would have to take Kaye’s place after all. Magekind would not stand for Order in their presence when they learned this.

“
Rogue
angel? Don’t make me laugh,” Cari said in the voice of all magekind. “I don’t believe you. He alone is well on the way to accomplishing what the Order has done time and time again—crush Shadow.”

And here Mason had thought she’d liked Custo. Not anymore.

“Angels have the same capacity for evil that any other soul has,” Custo told her. “He is very, very old. Found a way to sustain himself, probably with Shadow. I’m told that as a human he had the same aptitude for making that Mason here has.”

Mason caught Cari glaring at him. “I’m not like Xavier.”

Custo leaned forward. “He created a pathogen that his angelic blood could carry and that could be disseminated via Shadow.”

Shadow, the bread and breath of magekind, contaminated.

“The Order is tracking him. Xavier can’t run forever. We will not tire, not after what he’s done. He will be apprehended and escorted to Hell.”

Cari was about to come off her seat. “Not good enough. The Houses protect and defend their own. He has injured my people.
We
discovered his identity and
I
will make him pay for what he did to my father. The rest of magekind can stomp on the leftover pieces. The Order may clean up the resulting smear.”

Mason had closed his eyes during this recitation. Spoken like the head of a mighty House.

She wanted Xavier’s absolute death. Mason expected nothing less from her. Angels were embodied souls. If they died on Earth, they died forever. Such was their sacrifice for dedicating themselves to the service of humankind.

Custo looked every bit the wolf when he responded. “You can’t track him. Not even Mad Mab can find him, or so Khan tells me.”

“I don’t need to track him.” Cari was too smart for her own good.

Custo knew what she was thinking, too. “He won’t go for you as bait. He’s old enough to know a trap.”

“If he wants me bad enough, he will.”

Custo shook his head. “You can’t defeat him alone. He’ll wait you out. He has patience to spare.”

“I have a fae queen.”

So she’d decided to embrace Maeve after all. Not that she had much choice, but still. “I’ve seen you in the thrall of power, Cari,” Mason said, “and you weren’t fighting an ancient angel. You’ll lose yourself and therefore your House, everything your father worked for. You know this.”

“I don’t, actually,” she returned. “Every time I’ve partnered with Maeve, I’ve been successful.”

Partnered? Sweet Shadow, Cari was already mad. He’d hoped for a minute there . . .

“It’s a viable solution,” she said. “A calculated risk.”

Mason could feel Custo’s interest shift to him. “You have another idea.”

Not really. He was looking for ways to mitigate the risks that Cari intended to take. She’d do something regardless of any warnings. She’d loved her father and she had to prove herself as his successor. Allowing the Order to go after Xavier and bring him to justice was not an option for the new Dolan. “Refinements to Cari’s plan, actually.” Besides, it was part of his agreement with the Council that
he
end the threat of the mage plague.

“Well, let’s have it,” she challenged, as if bracing against him, too.

Mason didn’t feel good about this. “You as bait, somewhere far away from other people, should things get out of hand.”

“I’m stronger by my wards.”

“Hundreds of people now surround your House, Cari,” Custo said. “Please don’t put them in the middle of everything.”

She smiled. “They are welcome to leave any time.”

“I’m thinking of
my
house,” Mason said. “Such as it is.”

He got a lifted eyebrow from Cari.

Custo looked like he was considering it, as if he had any say in the decision. He didn’t.

“It’s on a little island. I have water for my wards.” Mason smiled a little, remembering how he’d worked to make water obey him. “He’ll track my soul there, just as Jack Bastian tracked me to my cabin in New Mexico.” He glanced at Cari. “Since you and I have been inseparable, and my thoughts . . . occupied by you, he might guess that we’ve gone there for a retreat of sorts while the Order hunts him and your House is under siege.”

“We go to
your
house,” Cari mused.

“It’s not much.” Once, it had been everything. But it was the people inside the house that mattered, not the structure.

Custo was shaking his head. “He’ll know that angels are waiting. He’ll see their souls.”

“No angels will be waiting,” Cari said, but she was looking at Mason. He could feel her mind moving in concert with his.

Custo groaned with frustration. “You can’t mean to use Mab. You don’t know the danger of giving her any purchase in this world.”

“I was thinking meaner, hungrier,” Mason said to Cari. She was looking into his eyes now, deeper and deeper. They were connected by a strand of understanding cast years ago. Now it carried the weight of this terrible business. Blood and violence between them.

Custo suddenly frowned, disgusted.

Cari gave a magey smile, all edges. Would her father recognize her? He’d be proud.

“That’s vicious,” said the angel with a wild wolf trapped within him. “The Order would never even think to do something so bloody. Would never condone it. It is evil.”

Mason didn’t care. “That’s why it will work.” How many deaths had Xavier delivered to the Shadowed? Fletcher almost among them. In this, Mason felt completely the mage—vengeful. “He won’t know they’re there. He won’t expect us to use this means. Wraiths don’t have souls.” And they were super strong, healed quickly, and were driven by a hunger for one thing.