Page 4

Chapter 4

Elijah

W e all stood in the grand entry and watched in silence as Zhong headed up the stairs with Andy, Aahil, and River.

I wasn’t sure where to go or what to do. I felt… lost. I was certainly no stranger to death. But all that we had just witnessed, all we had just done in the name of the rebel cause weighed heavily on me. And Hasumi… well, it had been a long time since I’d lost a family member. Especially one who was so dear to me and those around me. My heart ached at the loss. For Hasumi. And for everyone who was left behind to grieve.

“Well then,” Ambrose said, his deep voice laced with a jovial tone I was sure he didn’t feel. “Let’s all head to the private sitting room, shall we? I’ll make some tea.” I had overheard his hushed conversation with Zhong. The two of them had divided the rest of us up like a couple of parents deciding which of their children they’d be responsible for.

I wanted to be mad about that. But I just didn’t have it in me. This was why we all worked together as a family. And as something more. Everyone worked together to look out for everyone else. And some of us were better with certain situations than others. Zhong was a solid, comforting presence that I knew Andy and Aahil likely needed more than the rest of us right now, since they had been especially close to Hasumi. And while Ambrose didn’t have Hasumi’s talent for shifting and influencing emotions, he did feed on the unpleasant ones. He could draw off some of our pain and suffering.

Ambrose paused and gave us all a once over, his eerie eyes narrowed. “And don’t any of you think about sneaking off to sulk by yourself in a corner somewhere. I’ll only find you and drag you back here.”

After issuing that warning, the boogeyman disappeared in a swirl of inky shadows, off to make the tea.

I sighed and glanced at the others. Niamh had her arms crossed over her chest and a rebellious look on her pretty face. Dyre’s expression was completely neutral, not giving a single clue to his emotions. It was a skill I both admired and hated in the man. It made him impossible to read. But sometimes I wished I could be so stoic.

I rubbed the spot in the middle of my chest that continued to ache and clench. Then I turned and headed toward the room near the back of the house, which we had turned into a casual living room space during our time together.

“Come on,” I told my two surly companions. “Best to do as he says or we’ll end up having nightmares for a week.” Not that I thought I stood a chance of nightmare-free sleep anyway after today, but it was the only threat I had to get them moving. Ambrose was right to worry about them just going off to sulk alone. And I thought maybe we all needed to stick together right now. To weather this pain together.

I was surprised when both Dyre and Niamh followed me without argument. They didn’t even snark or jab at each other, the way they might have in the past. Maybe it was just the pain and shock of loss, but I thought it was something more… something had shifted between the two of them in some subtle way.

When we reached the living room, I flopped down onto the couch and dropped my head against the back to stare up at the intricate flourishes on the ceiling tiles. I rubbed my chest again, feeling like I couldn’t quite draw a full breath.

Niamh went to the minibar that lived under a bookshelf on the far wall, and the clink of glass told me she was in search of liquid pain killer. Dyre was still silent. I lifted my head to see that he was standing just inside the room, staring off into space as if lost in thought.

I wanted to go to him, even now. Wrap my arms around the necromancer and try to ease some of his pain. Or ask him to ease my own, maybe. I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that the pull between us continued, despite his telling me I was nothing more than a puppet to him, another responsibility that just so happened to have unwanted feelings for him.

Niamh set a tumbler of whiskey on the end table near the couch for me. Then she tossed back the entire contents of her own tumbler and set it aside. Taking a glass to Dyre, she stared up at him impatiently until he copied her, downing the drink in one go.

“Thanks,” he rumbled out, his deep voice roughened from the combination of grief and alcohol.

Niamh took his tumbler and set it aside, then lifted an eyebrow at him. “If you need a hug, you should ask one of your boyfriends,” she said flatly.

Dyre snorted at her and gave her a haughty look. “What kind of nonsense are you spouting now, fae? Do I look like I need a hug to you?”

She shook her head. “Idiot,” she muttered. My eyes widened when she stepped forward and pulled the lanky necromancer down into a fierce embrace. I was even more shocked when Dyre wrapped his arms around her without more than a second’s hesitation.

I was completely at a loss. If Dyre and Niamh were hugging, the world must be ending. Maybe this was all just a bizarre dream and nothing that had happened in the last few hours was real.

Ambrose strolled into the room with a tray of tea things balanced effortlessly on one hand. “Pardon,” he said lightly as he stepped around Niamh and Dyre, as if seeing them embrace was an everyday thing.

The two of them released each other and stepped away, like they were both as shocked by their affection for each other as I was. “That was fast,” Niamh said to Ambrose as she went to take a seat in an overstuffed chair to my right.

Ambrose smiled, revealing his gray shark teeth. “Magic,” he intoned, wiggling his fingers like a human playing magician at a child’s birthday party.

Dyre snorted, crossing his arms over his lean chest and staring down his long nose at his lover. “What sort of drugs are in it?”

Ambrose straightened from where he had been pouring tea like a professional butler, the image reinforced by his graceful movements and the black suit he always wore. Pressing a hand over his heart, he looked at Dyre in mock offense. “Are you accusing me of trying to poison you? Have you no trust in me? I’m wounded.”

Dyre just arched one red brow and didn’t speak.

“Oh, fine,” Ambrose huffed. “Just a mild sedative blend. The one Zhong uses on us whenever something awful happens around here. Other than that, it’s simply green tea.”

Dyre reluctantly accepted his cup of tea and went to hitch a hip against the minibar while Ambrose doled out cups to the rest of us. “In all seriousness,” the boogeyman said, glancing around the room at each of us. “It won’t take away the pain. But it might help us survive it for now.”

With that, he took a deep drink from his own cup and let out a tired sigh, taking the chair opposite Niamh, so the three of us sat around the coffee table with the tea tray between us.

I dutifully sipped my tea, craving the effects of the sedative, but not entirely sure it would even work on me. This new body of mine came with different rules than the old one. I was resistant to some things and overly reactive to others. One more reminder that I wasn’t truly alive. Or at least, not in the way the others were.

My gaze traveled to Dyre again, drawn back to him like always. My creator. My unwilling master, I supposed. He still looked completely unconcerned, his arresting face smooth and empty of expression while the others wore expressions of deep weariness. I rubbed at the ache in my chest that would not go away, and noticed that Dyre was rubbing the exact same spot as he sipped his tea and stared off into space.

Oh.

I dropped my hand and tore my eyes away from him as I silently felt along the tether between us. I tried to leave it alone. To ignore the connection, ever since he told me what he thought of my feelings for him. But this time, I couldn’t help myself. I touched on the thread that tied my life—and my energy—to his. The pain and sadness that washed over me was overwhelming. And it was flavored with something else… regret, maybe? Was he blaming himself for Hasumi’s death?

I pulled away from the forbidden glimpse into Dyre’s feelings and flicked a glance his way once more. Of course he would blame himself. He always blamed himself for anything bad that happened. I shook my head and drank some more of my tea.

“Hasumi was a beautiful soul,” I found myself saying into the quiet room.

Ambrose nodded, a sad smile flitting across his face. “They were. Better than any of us deserved.”

Niamh was staring into her teacup, but she nodded slightly. Dyre closed his eyes and stayed that way, as if fighting to contain whatever he was feeling.

It only occurred to me then… that all of them had been romantically involved with the water weaver. I had seen Ambrose and Hasumi kiss or share a touch now and then, after a certain night when they disappeared with Andy. And I had walked in on Niamh, Dyre, Andy, and Hasumi in the library. Gods… had it been only yesterday? It felt like a year had passed since then.

I suddenly felt out of place, as if their grief was something intimate that I shouldn’t be witnessing. I tossed back the rest of my tea and set the cup aside, next to my untouched whiskey. I needed to leave.

“Elijah,” Ambrose murmured, and I felt his dark power caressing the edges of my aura. “It’s okay.”

I shook my head. Nothing was okay. Was he insane?

He sighed. “Well, it’s not okay. But I can feel the sudden spike of ugly emotions you’re putting off, angel dear. Take a deep breath.”

I felt like a cornered animal all of the sudden. A prey animal, surrounded by the sharp gazes of stronger predators, as Niamh and Dyre looked at me like I had lost my mind. I looked away, sliding forward on the couch to rest my elbows on my knees and gaze at the floor. I wanted to deny that anything was wrong. But I knew Ambrose wasn’t lying. He could sense all the dark, twisted up feelings inside me. It was embarrassing. We had all lost someone we cared for. The three of them had lost a lover . And yet it was me who was drawing attention to myself with my spiraling thoughts.

“What’s going on?” Niamh said. Her voice sounded far away as I struggled to make air fill my lungs.

I couldn’t breathe. No. Oh, no! Was my body dying? Was Dyre’s animation spell failing? A strange sobbing sound escaped me as I tried desperately to get enough oxygen.

“…panic attack…” Ambrose’s deep voice filtered to me over the sound of my pounding heart. I felt him pulling at my aura, trying to drain the emotions from me as they overwhelmed me, but I did just as he said—I panicked. My personal shields snapped up and my own magic flared in response, pushing him away. Keeping him out.

I was dying. My hands started to tingle. I couldn’t get enough air. I needed to move, but I couldn’t force my body to work. No. I didn’t want to die again! Not yet. Not when I had barely had a chance to embrace being alive!

The coffee table went clattering away, shoved out of the way violently by a booted foot. Then big, cool hands were gripping my face, forcing me to look up into deep violet eyes. My aura surged at the familiar feeling of my anchor. My soul recognized the aura of the person who gave me life.

“Elijah,” Dyre said, his deep voice calm but firm. “Take a deep breath. Good. Hold it.”

I did as I was ordered, somehow able to follow his commands when I couldn’t quite grasp Ambrose’s directions. I would do anything my master ordered me to do.

“Let it out, sweetheart,” he murmured, “nice and slow. Good. Now in again.”

I stared into those unflinching violet eyes as Dyre coaxed me to breathe. To relax. To find my home in my body again.

When, at last, some version of clarity and sanity returned to me, I felt my cheeks heat with embarrassment. I had just completely fallen apart. I must look so weak. So pathetic. And here was Dyre, forced to deal with his inconvenient creation yet again. A chore. A burden.

My chest ached and I lifted a hand to rub it, but Dyre caught my hand in one of his, the other still resting on my cheek. Not looking away, he guided my hand to his chest, pressing it over his heart. The steady beat of his pulse…matched mine exactly. I was so shocked by the realization that I forgot, for just a moment, to be embarrassed.

“Your heart…” I mumbled.

Dyre’s bluish lips turned upward faintly, and he pressed his forehead to mine. “Same as yours,” he whispered.

And for one silly moment, I let myself believe he might mean more than the rhythm of our pulses.

When he pulled away and stood, I closed my eyes, grateful for his power to calm me, but still yearning foolishly for more. My eyes flew open again when the cushion beneath me shifted, as Dyre planted a knee there and leaned over me. His long red braid brushed over my arm as he gripped my face again, tilting my head back. His violet eyes flashed to black, then back to violet, right before his lips pressed to mine.

I froze, my brain short-circuiting as it tried to catch up to what was happening. Then I reached for him, greedily pulling him closer, hungrily devouring that cool, sweet mouth. Questions flew through my mind, but I ignored them. I didn’t care why this was happening. I didn’t care if it was only pity or some other misplaced reason… I needed to burn this moment into my memory. To soak in the taste and feel of him, just this once.

His fingers slid through my hair to fist at the base of my skull, holding me immobile as he withdrew. His eyes flashed completely black, and Sunshine’s eerie, multi-layered voice rippled over me, making me shudder. “Ours.”

I felt like I couldn’t breathe again. But this time it was for far different reasons.

“I’ll go start some dinner,” Niamh said flatly. “It’s getting gross in here.”

Ambrose chuckled darkly.

I suddenly remembered that we weren’t alone and tried to sit up, but Dyre—no, Sunshine—held me down with an iron grip on my hair and a hand on my chest. A low rumbling growl emanated from the necromancer, and my eyes widened.

What was happening right now?