Shadow's End

ELEVEN

Instead of lifting his head afterward, he kept his lips pressed against her cheek, resting against her, breathing her in.

The sensation ran along her nerves, causing the private place between her legs to throb.

Heated images ran through her mind.

The way his gentle fingers had probed at her sensitive flesh, discovering exactly the right way to give her the most pleasure, the urgent need with which he had suckled at her breasts.

The way his powerful body had moved to cover hers as together they positioned his cock at her entrance, and he had pressed inside her. Even though it had been years, it felt as powerful as if it had happened yesterday.

It grew harder to stand on her own. She needed to pull away from him, to let the cold fresh breeze clear her mind, but she was so hungry for his touch, she found herself leaning into him instead. She gripped the edges of his jean jacket for support, while she tried to think.

She whispered, “I told everyone I wouldn’t go to the masque this year.”

“Say you changed your mind,” he murmured. He touched the delicate skin at her throat, stroking his fingers along her skin. “Say you need a break. That’s valid, Bel, especially since you’ve worked just as hard, if not harder, than anybody else to get your demesne back on its feet. And think about it—there’s no better time for you to come to New York without rousing suspicion. The masque is next week. Is Ferion attending?”

She shook her head. “No, he said he would stay home as well.”

“If you came right away, that would give us several days to figure out a plan of action. We can talk everything over, free from his scrutiny.”

Indecision gripped her. She held herself tense, trying to see her way clear to the best decision.

She felt as if she were surrounded by a wall of thorn bushes, and everywhere she turned, wicked, needlelike thorns were ready to tear into her flesh. Her mind spun in circles, looking for a way out of the trap.

If she did nothing, Ferion might very well remain under Malphas’s control, which would be disastrous for both him and the Elven demesne.

Things couldn’t continue the way they were, but moving forward felt full of danger and uncertainty. Graydon was talking about going to war against one of the most dangerous creatures on earth, a first-generation Djinn.

Yet if she went to New York, Graydon would be there.

Opening her eyes, she looked up at him. The expression in his shadowed gaze made all her uncertainty vanish.

She said, “I’ll come.”

His body tightened. “When?”

She lifted her shoulders in an uncertain shrug. “As soon as I possibly can. The flight itself is a short one. Perhaps by tomorrow night? It will look too strange if I try to come by myself, so I’ll have to bring at least one guard. I can say that since I’m the only one going, with probably Linwe, there won’t be any need to send staff to open up the Elven residence in the city.”

That strategy would also prevent Ferion from keeping watch on her through house attendants. She hated that she had thought of that, or that it was a realistic danger.

Her plan solidified in her mind. She told him, “I’ll stay at a hotel, if I can get a room or a suite at this late date.”

“I’ll make sure you get a suite,” he promised. “New York gets so crowded around the time of the masque, we always keep a few suites in reserve at some of the best hotels, to cover unexpected contingencies. I can send you an email with the reservation.”

That made things significantly easier. “And I’ll contact you once I arrive.”

He took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll expect to hear from you by tomorrow night.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t want to say good-bye,” he muttered. “As stupid as it sounds, I feel superstitious about letting you out of my sight right now.”

“I know what you mean. I feel the same way.” She threw her arms around his neck.

He hugged her tight. Bel, he said telepathically. I want you to know, I would be doing this for Ferion’s sake, regardless of anything else.

For some reason, that brought tears to her eyes. He really was such a good man. Stroking his hair, she told him, I believe you.

A lot has changed over the last two hundred years. When we find our way free of this, all I want is the chance for you and me to figure out what we might mean to each other. His arms tightened. Okay?

I would really love that, Graydon, she told him wistfully.

With obvious reluctance, he released her. Until tomorrow night.

She rested her hand on his chest and promised, See you soon.

Watching her, he backed up a few steps. Then he turned, shapeshifted into the gryphon and leaped into the air. He was only visible for a few moments, then his form rippled and faded from sight as his cloaking spell took hold.

Gods. To see the gryphon again, after all these years. He was glorious. Watching him soar like that, with such power and grace . . . She felt unbelievably heavy, like a lump of clay forever trapped on earth, and she longed to ride in the air with him again.

Holding her breath, she stared up at the night sky for long moments after he had disappeared.

Finally accepting that he was truly gone, she turned and climbed the bluff. As she walked along the path on the journey home, she braced herself for the next steps.

She had to sell this story like it was really true, and that wouldn’t be easy. Ferion’s truthsense was enhanced by the fact that he had known her for a very long time.

Graydon kept his speed strong all the way back to New York. He had a lot to do in a short amount of time. As he traveled north, he entered the winter storm system again.

Snow swirled around him for the last half hour of his flight. By the time he landed, he had flown well over a thousand miles, and a good portion of that had been in inclement weather. He was tired and more than ready for a bucket of hot coffee and a hot, filling meal.

If he showed up at the Tower, he could help himself to the copious amounts of food in the cafeteria, but he would never get a moment’s peace. People would approach him with their problems, and he would spend all his time explaining that he was on personal leave.

Instead of going to the Tower, he stopped at Ruby’s Diner, a local restaurant that had been a favorite of his for the last thirty years. He ordered two steaks, half a dozen eggs, and a double helping of biscuits and gravy, along with coffee. The food was hearty, and the coffee was so strong it could put a dead man back on his feet again.

Outside the diner’s plate-glass windows, large, fluffy flakes of snow swirled. Several of the customers were either Christmas shoppers or masquegoers. The snowstorm seemed to foster a sense of camaraderie. Laughter and cheerful conversation filled the diner.

He was such a long-standing customer, and they knew him so well, they always kept the barstool at one end of the counter available for him.

Other than giving him a permanent seat, they didn’t make any fuss or call him by his title. He enjoyed the sense of anonymity and the chance to eat his meal in peace while he watched the ebb and flow of the other diners.

I’m unbalanced and obsessive. I wouldn’t recommend living this way to anyone, and yet, I still can’t give up the thought of you.

She had said that to him only a few short hours ago, but in the bright, bustling light of a New York morning, the words already began to feel distant and unreal.

He had lied to her, and she hadn’t even noticed.

He had said, all I want is the chance for you and me to figure out what we might mean to each other.

Because that was what a normal, healthy person might say. He had been faking it in the hopes that the rest of him would fall in line, and it hadn’t worked.

He wasn’t normal or healthy. He was every bit as unbalanced and obsessive as she claimed to be. They really were trapped in much the same place as they had been two hundred years ago.

Only, if they managed to break free of Malphas, he thought likely that she would move on to a new, different life, while he would still be in the same place, wanting her yet unable to have her. He didn’t know how to protect himself while still fighting for a chance to be with her.

In the cold light of morning it didn’t seem very realistic to hold out hope.

He was still Wyr. She was still Elven.

He had made promises to Dragos, to the other sentinels—Pia and Liam—and he intended to keep them. Bel had already proven over the centuries how devoted she was to the Elven demesne.

While the world had changed and Calondir was dead, Bel’s feelings for Dragos ran deep and bitter, and with good reason. Dragos’s help in January might have mitigated some of that bitterness, but it couldn’t have erased all of it.

As he considered the obstacles that lay between them, he looked around the diner.

The most generous way to describe the restaurant would be to call it retro. Still sporting much of the original décor from the 1970s, it was worn, outdated and definitely working class.

Faded green linoleum covered the floor, while the booths and barstools were covered in orange vinyl. The cracked seat on his own barstool had been patched with a strip of duct tape.

The tables were covered with a layer of faux wood, which was nearly as worn as the floor. The food was hearty, not designer cuisine, but it was well cooked and savory. He felt comfortable in this place, at home. It wasn’t fancy, but neither was he.

He tried to imagine Bel enjoying the diner.

It wasn’t that she was stuck-up. She was the exact opposite. She was attentive to others, and genuine, and her graciousness caused people from all walks of life to gravitate toward her.

She also wore clothes that were handsewn—jackets covered with a fortune in delicate embroidery and seed pearls, along with handcrafted boots, and silk shirts. Everything about her screamed money and class.

He looked down at himself. His jean jacket, jeans and boots had certainly seen better days, and his plain gray T-shirt had come from a plastic multipack of shirts he had bought at a superstore.

As he rubbed his tired face, he encountered stubble on his chin. The catlike part of his nature was obsessed with cleanliness, but he wasn’t sure when he had last shaved.

Wednesday? Maybe Tuesday?

Resting his elbows on the bar, he propped his head in his hands. He didn’t know who he was trying to fool. If you took away the extraordinary events that had thrown them together so long ago, in real, ordinary life, he and Bel were pretty much like oil and water.

“Job getting you down, Gray?”

He looked up at Ruby, the owner of the diner. She was an elderly human woman, around seventy years old. Slim and energetic, with dyed red hair and tortoiseshell glasses, she stayed active in the daily running of her business, claiming her customers kept her young at heart.

He told her, “My job’s a piece of cake.”

She snorted as she filled his coffee cup. “Pull the other one, why don’t you?”

One corner of his mouth tilted up. “Well, some days it’s a piece of cake. Other days . . . hey, it’s why they pay me the big bucks, right?”

“You need a good woman to make your life easier.” Ruby rested her coffee carafe on the counter beside him.

Over the years, they had bantered many times like this before. His smile turned genuine. “You applying for the job?”

“Oh, sweet cheeks, if I was about forty-five years younger and a whole lot more stupid, I would hog-tie you and fight off all comers.” She gave him a wink. “But you would always be leaving in the middle of the night. Or you would come home scratched up and bloody, and not say a word about what happened. Some people can handle being the spouse of a cop or a soldier, yet I never was one of them. But we woulda had a lot of fun, you and me, before it all went to hell.”

Laughing, he pulled out his wallet. “We sure would have.”

“Put that away.” She tapped him on the shoulder with a gnarled finger. “You know better than that. Your money’s no good here.”

“I’ve always gotta offer, Ruby,” he said, although he tucked his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans.

She nodded with a grin. “That’s one of the many reasons why I would have hog-tied you. My ex? I had to take him to court for child support, and he always waits for somebody else to pay in a restaurant.”

“That’s not right.” He shook his head. “If I had a wife and child, I would do everything in my power to make their lives good, and they would never want for anything.”

I would fight for them, live for them.

Die for them, if need be.

The words sounded melodramatic over morning coffee, so while he thought them, he didn’t say them aloud.

“That’s another reason why I would have hog-tied you.” Smiling, Ruby looked at him over the rim of her glasses. “I don’t hafta tell you that people get crazy around masque-time. Be careful out there, and come back to see me real soon.”

“I will,” he promised.

Predictable as it had been, the exchange had lightened his mood, while the food had given him a surge of much-needed energy. Stepping out, he walked down the street, watching his surroundings carefully until he was certain he was a good half block away from anyone else, and he could sense no nearby magic.

Only then did he take out his cell phone and scroll through his contacts until he found the right one. He punched Call.

Voicemail kicked in. It was a robo-message, giving only the number, no name or any other identifier. He hung up without leaving a message and dialed again.

This time, the Vampyre Julian Regillus, the Nightkind King, picked up. “Graydon. Let’s save some energy and pretend you and I have already had a conversation about what time it is.”

In the background, Graydon heard a familiar feminine voice. Melisande, the Light Fae heir and Julian’s lover, said, “Did you say that was Graydon calling? Tell him hi for me.”

“Melly says hi,” Julian said into the phone. “We’re about to go to bed.”

“Don’t be mean!” Melly exclaimed.

Graydon bit back a smile. In New York, it was only eight in the morning, which meant that in Lake Tahoe, it had just turned five. For most people, depending on their race and personal habits, it was either too early or too late to be calling, unless the reason was urgent.

“Are you in New York for next week’s masque?” Graydon asked. “Or are you coming?”

“No,” Julian replied. “I haven’t talked to Xavier for a couple of weeks, but I think he’s planning to attend as regent. I meant it when I said I’m taking a year off. Melly and I are at home.”

Graydon leaned back against the brick wall of a building so he could watch the street in both directions. “Sorry to interrupt your vacation.”

“What’s going on?”

“Do you remember the conversation you and I had a couple of months ago in San Francisco?” He ran one hand through his hair. The snow had already damped the ends. “We talked about a mutual acquaintance. You shared sensitive intel.”

Earlier, in the spring, Melly had been kidnapped by one of the Nightkind council, and her mother Tatiana, the Light Fae Queen, had asked Graydon for help in finding her. Julian had actually been the one who found Melly.

Afterward, he had shared with Graydon confidential information about Malphas. Names of victims. Dates. Graydon’s entire investigation had been prompted by that small, vital list.

“I’m not likely to forget.” Julian’s voice had gone very alert and crisp. “Have there been new developments?”

“Yes, significant ones.” Graydon paused as he watched an elderly male cross at the nearest intersection. When the male turned the corner and disappeared from sight, he said, “Do you want to have a say in what comes next?”

“You’re damn right I do,” Julian growled.

Graydon nodded, unsurprised. “Things may happen quickly. How soon can you get to New York?”

“I’ll be there by the end of the day,” Julian told him.

Melly said, “You’re not going without me.” Something rustled. Suddenly she sounded much closer and clearer than she had before, almost as if she had climbed into Julian’s lap. “While we’re on our way, you’re going to explain how this fits into your concept of ‘vacation.’”

Julian said, “That’s complicated.”

“It’s always complicated.” Melly sounded amused.

Julian said, “Graydon, I’ll call you when we’re in town.”

“Sounds good. Talk to you later.”

Once he had disconnected, he continued down the street. In Wembley on that last morning, he had said the war might be a very long one. But not even he had conceived of just how long it would be.

He had never lain in wait for so long, or hunted with such extreme care. His prey had never been quite as dangerous as it was now, nor had the stakes ever been quite as high.

The part of him that was a predator had to admit it felt good to take action, good to be moving toward some kind of resolution. Now that he had begun his play, events would escalate. The pace of the hunt would take on its own life.

Cloaking himself, he changed into the gryphon and launched into a short flight that took him into the heart of Manhattan. Circling down upon an exclusive boutique hotel, he changed back into the man and strode into the lobby.

His destination was a three-bedroom suite several flights up. He rapped on the door and waited.

There was the soft sound of muffled movement, then the door opened. The woman who answered it was human, rather tall, dressed in jeans and a black turtleneck, with an athletic build and blond, shoulder length hair.

She was around thirty-eight or forty, Graydon guessed, or at least she had been when she had become a Vampyre attendant. She was attractive in a clean, spare way, with the sharp, intelligent gaze of an experienced soldier.

“You must be Claudia Hunter,” he said.

The woman smiled. “I am, and of course you’re Graydon. It’s nice to finally meet you in person. Come on in.” Turning, she raised her voice. “Precious, our visitor has arrived.”

Noting with approval the businesslike Glock she wore in a holster at the waist of her jeans, Graydon followed her into the living room area of the suite just as another male unfolded his long body off the couch.

The male was Wyr and young, perhaps mid- to late-twenties, and he carried a canine scent. He had a kind of handsomeness that smoldered, with dark burnished skin, bitter chocolate eyes and rather overlong black hair.

He was also very large, easily as big as Graydon, and that was not something Graydon was used to running into very often.

“Luis Alvarez,” said the young Wyr, holding out one hand.

“Nice to meet you.” Graydon shook hands with him, grinning. “Your partner calls you ‘Precious’?”

Luis’s dark gaze cut over to Claudia, and his face changed. The difference was at once both subtle and, to Graydon’s experienced gaze, remarkably telling. Inwardly troubled, he kept his own expression neutral.

Luis said softly, “Inside joke. The first time Claudia and I met, I was injured and in my Wyr form. I couldn’t shift back into a human for a while.”

Claudia chuckled, her own affection for Luis obvious. She said to Graydon, “He is one big-ass, mean-looking dog. I had to name him Precious.”

If Graydon was not mistaken, that big-ass, mean-looking dog had mated with his non-Wyr, human partner.

And Wyr mated for life. Luis would never leave Claudia, never stop in his devotion to her, yet she had a different nature entirely.

If she ever felt the need, she could leave Luis, and eventually that decision would kill him. Their lifespans were also quite different. She would age quicker than he. When she died, he would too. It was a hell of a thing for a member of another race to take a Wyr as a lover.

Of course, it was a hell of a thing for the Wyr, as well.

Belatedly, Graydon caught up with what they had said. He put two and two together.

“Wait,” he said. “Are you the two that discovered the magic-sensitive silver mine in Nirvana, Nevada? The one where the owner kept slaves in a small pocket of Other land to mine the silver?”

Both Luis and Claudia sobered, their smiles dying. Luis replied, “Yes.”

“I’ll get everybody a cup of coffee,” Claudia said. She walked out of the living room.

Graydon said to Luis, “That explains your Peacekeeper background.”

Luis nodded. “I was an investigator for the Elder tribunal and met Claudia in Nevada. I was close to death when she found me. She saved my life. After the case was concluded, we took time off. When we decided to look for a job, we had some very specific requirements.”

“One of my requirements was I needed to become a Vampyre attendant,” Claudia said, as she walked back into the room, carrying coffee mugs. “Short of becoming a Vampyre myself, which I don’t want to do, being an attendant is the only way for a human to significantly improve their health and lengthen their life.”

Ah. So she knew that Luis had mated with her.

She handed a mug filled with coffee to Graydon, meeting his eyes with a direct, steady gaze, and he realized she had seen how troubled he had become. He murmured a thanks and sipped the hot, black brew.

She said, “Working for Carling will extend my lifespan significantly. It still won’t bring me to anything near what Luis’s life would have been before he met me, but instead of having thirty or forty years together, we’ll now have eighty. Maybe even a hundred, if we’re lucky, and I’ll be fit and healthy to the end.”

“You fuss too much,” Luis told her. He accepted a mug too. “Things have turned out better than I could have hoped. I like fieldwork and being independent, so those were my requirements. Long story short, we ended up in Florida, applying for positions at Carling and Rune’s agency. We’ve been working for them ever since.”

“Well, you know I wouldn’t have trusted you with an investigation as sensitive or dangerous as this if Rune hadn’t recommended you so highly,” said Graydon. “I want to go over everything to make sure it’s in order.”

“Of course,” said Luis. “Since we didn’t know what you might choose to do, I’ve created files that meet Elder tribunal litigation requirements. It’s kind of my thing.”

Graydon glanced at Claudia again. The twinkle had returned in her eyes. She said in a gentle voice to Luis, “I get all hot and bothered when you talk about files and litigation requirements.”

The younger Wyr laughed a little under his breath, and his skin darkened.

Watching them, Graydon’s sense of discouragement turned to hope. If anybody looked mismatched at first glance, it had to be Luis and Claudia, yet they appeared to have found a solution that allowed them to be together in the best way possible.

Maybe he and Bel really could find a way to be together. Of course, they might not, but at least it looked more possible than it had earlier at Ruby’s Diner.

“I want to have a meeting on this sometime later tonight,” he told them. “I would like for you both to attend, if you would.”

“Of course,” Claudia said. “Rune and Carling are in town, and they wanted to be kept updated. Is it all right if they attend too?”

“I would prefer it.” Rune was one of the most formidable fighters Graydon had ever known, and as a Powerful witch and Vampyre, Carling had once fought in a war against a first-generation Djinn—and won. Her input would be invaluable.

“I’ll let them know,” Claudia promised.

Luis led him to the dining table and logged him onto a laptop. Once Graydon had taken a seat, Luis handed him something square and black. It was an external hard drive.

“The laptop’s Wi-Fi capability has been disabled,” Luis told him. “The only record of the files is on that hard drive. This is as secure as we could possibly make it.”

“That’s terrific.”

Plugging in the drive, Graydon explored the contents.

The files were massive. Neatly labeled, each folder contained copies of financial records, photos, and extensive notes, each document logged with the date and time. There were also interviews in audio files.

The other two left him to his reading. It took him several hours, but he reviewed each file thoroughly. He worked through lunch.

Silently, without interrupting him, Luis set a plate stacked with roast beef sandwiches beside his elbow. Graydon nodded his thanks and, without taking a break from reading, plowed through the food.

Finally he closed the hard drive, unplugged it from the laptop and slipped it into his pocket. Looking for Claudia and Luis, he followed the sound of a TV and found them in one of the bedrooms.

They hadn’t bothered to close the bedroom door. On one side of the bed, Claudia had propped her back against some pillows. She was reading a thriller. Luis lounged beside her, watching ESPN. They looked relaxed, like a dangerous pair of cougars stretched out after a long hunt, and just about as domestic.

“Damn fine, meticulous work,” Graydon told them. “I’d offer you a job—I can match or beat whatever dollar amount Carling and Rune are paying you—except I can’t help you with the Vampyre attendant issue.”

Both Claudia and Luis’s expressions lightened with pleasure at his praise. “Thank you,” Luis said. “Is there anything else you want us to do before this evening’s meeting?”

“Can’t think of a thing,” Graydon said. “Get some rest. I’m going to go home, shower and take a nap myself.” He hefted the external hard drive in one hand. “Again, you’ve done a great job, and it’s not that I don’t trust you, but I’m gonna keep this with me now.”

“Sounds good,” Claudia said. She swung her legs off the edge of the bed, stood and walked with him to the door of the suite.

“Until tonight, then,” he said. He met her gaze. “Be careful. Lay low.”

She smiled. “Don’t worry about us. We’re good at laying low.”

He returned her smile, but it died quickly as he stepped into the hall.

They were good. They appeared to be competent warriors, and were some of the best investigators he had worked with in a long time, but going to war against a first-generation Djinn was one of the most dangerous things anyone could do. The casualty count was invariably high.

People were going to die due to the decisions he made over the next several hours. One way or another, he had been in command of other soldiers for a very long time, so he was no stranger to seeing it happen. He had experienced that particular kind of loss before.

That never made it any easier.