Shadow's End

THIRTEEN

She couldn’t hold back asking any longer. “Who is asking, you or Malphas?”

When at first he didn’t answer, her widened gaze flew to Graydon’s in alarm.

Even as Graydon started to speak, Ferion said, “Your question is not quite accurate. Malphas can’t possess me like some bodiless demon.”

Graydon’s eyes narrowed. “But he can give you orders and compel you to obey. Is he compelling you right now?”

“He’s always had that ability.” The blood had left Ferion’s face, and his lips were white.

“That isn’t an answer.” Bel stepped toward him, her fists clenched.

Ferion didn’t respond. Instead, he looked at her steadily.

All of a sudden, she saw her son again in his gaze, her good, loving, flawed son. Her eyes filled with moisture, and she strode over to throw her arms around him. He held her tightly.

Graydon asked, “Has Malphas compelled you to do things in the past?”

The muscles in Ferion’s arms grew rigid. He put his face in her hair and didn’t answer.

After suspecting for so long, both relief and fury swept through her. She said over her shoulder to Graydon, “Silence is its own answer.”

“Yes, it is,” Graydon growled. “So he has already broken the bargain, and it’s up to us to prove it and hold him accountable.”

Her breathing had turned ragged with her emotions. This was the kind of risk one suffered when one bargained with a pariah. For law-abiding Djinn, if a bargain was not upheld, one could present a case to the Demonkind council. If the case was proven, the Djinn would need to make reparation.

No such strictures bound a pariah. They had already been judged by the Djinn and found wanting, and had been barred from society. The only way to stir others to action was by proving that the pariah was doing too much damage to tolerate—because going against a Djinn came at such a high cost.

Everything was stacked in Malphas’s favor. He could cheat while knowing the cost to hold him accountable was too expensive, whereas if she and Graydon broke their side of the bargain, he would . . .

What would he do? Tell the world that they had slept together two hundred years ago? Other than a mild titillation and perhaps a tabloid headline, the world would yawn in his face.

Would he kill the High Lord of the Elven demesne? If he did, he would be signing his own death warrant, because nobody—nobody in all the Elder Races—would allow him to commit such a crime and get away with it.

But if he was pushed into a corner, he could torture Ferion with more extreme acts of control—and that was the one possibility that was so unendurable. She simply couldn’t bear to watch it happen.

Hold steady, she thought. Stay the course. Play the long game.

“Ferion,” Graydon said. “What if Malphas ordered you to hurt Beluviel?”

Ferion’s arms loosened from around her, and he stepped back. His expression turned tender and trapped at once. He whispered, “I would do everything in my power to fight it.”

“Yet, you can’t swear for certain that you wouldn’t do it. Just like the first time.”

The first time, when he had choked Bel because Malphas had ordered him to. Silence again, weighted and toxic with everything left unsaid.

Ferion turned away. “I would have to fight anyone who tried to stop me from doing what I was ordered to do, but then I’m sure you remember that. It doesn’t mean I would have to win. I can always be killed.”

“Don’t say that,” she said between her teeth.

When he glanced at her, the frozen, tight lines of his face softened.

He said, “I’ve been living for two hundred years as both hostage and slave, all because I couldn’t control myself when I really needed to. It doesn’t matter if I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter if I grew up a hell of a lot and learned my lesson, or if I would die before I ever did it again. Every time I think this situation can’t go on or get any worse, somehow it does. So far Malphas hasn’t forced me to do anything catastrophic. It’s been the small things, the mean, sneaky things that keep me from sleeping and eat at my soul.”

“You never said anything,” she murmured, stricken.

His gaze turned wry. “What could I have said? Anything would have made you feel worse, more trapped. I love you too much to put you through that. But now that I’ve become the High Lord, and the Elven demesne has stabilized, we all know the situation has changed.”

“What do you suggest we do?” Graydon asked.

Ferion’s reply was immediate. “I take responsibility. Because of my addiction, people have been hurt, and I would pay any price to bring this hell to an end. So I want you both to do what you have to do to end this, and I will have no choice but to do what I must. And I want you to know that whatever happens, you have my blessing.”

Graydon’s immobility caught her attention. He watched Ferion, his face expressionless, and somehow that frightened her more than anything.

As she watched, his demeanor shifted. His expression became mild and innocuous. Even his body language changed.

“I don’t really catch your drift, buddy,” he said. He rolled his broad shoulders in an easygoing shrug. “I just stopped by to say hey to Bel. You know, two old friends taking a few minutes to play catch-up.”

As Ferion turned to stare at him, Graydon told him in a quiet voice, “We haven’t abandoned you, son, and we haven’t broken any bargains. We won’t, either. Aside from the fact that you know you can trust your mother, you have my word on that.”

An expression crossed Ferion’s face, one that Bel hadn’t seen in a very long time. It was vulnerable, even hopeful. He whispered, “Thank you. Please don’t let me do anything to hurt the Elven demesne or my mother.”

“Like I said, there’s no reason for us to go there.” Graydon gave him an easy smile. Even to Bel’s hypersensitive hearing, every word he said sounded sincere. She could fudge and tell a certain number of untruths while sounding sincere, but Graydon’s talent for lying had hers beat. “Even if you’ve been ordered to keep an eye on her, she’s not doing anything but normal activities. Seeing friends and attending parties. You know, getting a breath of fresh air after a hard six months of work. Isn’t that right, Bel?”

Halfway through, she realized what Graydon was doing. He was feeding Ferion the kind of information that the other man could give to Malphas.

It didn’t matter what Ferion personally thought of what Graydon was telling him. If pressed, he would be able to repeat exactly what Graydon had said, and he would be able to claim it sounded like the truth.

She could tell when Ferion realized it as well. A slight smile spread across his features. “With that kind of reassurance, perhaps I can ease up on the number of guards I’ve set to watch over her.” He met her gaze. “Linwe can report to me.”

“Of course she can,” said Bel. She could tell the younger woman to report only simple, innocent activities and to cover for her when she might disappear. Poor Linwe would be very confused, but she would comply. “It will be a remarkably boring task, I assure you.”

Her son inclined his head. “Very well.”

“Ferion,” said Graydon, “do you know what Malphas can sense? How closely does he watch you?”

The younger male rubbed the back of his neck, frustration evident in his tight body language. “I think he can’t sense my activities unless I can sense him. I’ve become attuned to his presence, maybe because of the bond between us. But he doesn’t have to spy on me. He knows I have to follow his orders—or at least the letter of his orders. While he’s slipped up once or twice, usually he’s very detailed at giving orders that don’t allow much wiggle room, no doubt because of his Djinn nature and bargaining experience.”

Graydon raised his eyebrows. “If you’re more attuned to his presence, perhaps Bel and I are too.”

Ferion shrugged. “You might be. He said once that he would feel it if you broke the bargain. Something to do with the connection he established with you. Other than that, he can’t spy on us all the time.” He paused, and his expression turned uncertain, searching. Hesitantly, he continued, “If I were to guess, I think he’s spread very thin.”

Satisfaction flashed through her. He was trying to figure out the boundaries of his confinement and help them any way he could.

Graydon said in her head, That would make sense, if Malphas’s network of slaves has grown. But even so, Ferion would remain one of his highest priorities.

She said quickly, “I think we’ve talked enough about this.” She added privately to Graydon, If Malphas thinks to ask him what we’ve discussed, Ferion will have to tell him.

Agreed.

Clearly, Ferion thought of that as well, because he said, “I believe we have, too.”

She turned back to him. “What are you going to tell Malphas about this, if he asks?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Graydon nod in approval.

“I will say that Graydon stopped by for a brief visit.” Ferion smiled. “And that my mother is doing exactly what she does on every trip to New York, and the reports from my guard confirms it. Normal activities. Seeing friends, attending parties.” He said to Graydon, “You should leave now.”

Graydon said comfortably, “Sure, no problem.” He didn’t move.

Bel said in a firm voice, “Good night, Ferion.”

The Elven male hesitated. Then he said, “Good night.”

As he stepped out of the bedroom, she took a deep breath and let the tension leave her spine. What a strange, heartbreaking yet hopeful conversation.

Taking her by the elbow, Graydon gently nudged her out onto the snowy balcony again. As she complied, he pulled the doors closed behind them.

Silently, he told her, It’s late at night, in December. I doubt there are any surveillance cameras out here. Even if there are, they can’t hear what we say telepathically. He pulled her into his arms, and she went willingly, burying her face in his warm, strong neck. As he cupped the back of her head, he asked, How do you think it went?

As well as can be expected, and better than I had feared. She sighed, losing herself in his clean, male scent and the warm strength of his large body. We were all as careful as we could be. I think Ferion will try his hardest to do what he said he would—but we still can’t trust him.

Much as she wanted to. Much as, she now believed, he truly deserved.

I agree. Graydon rubbed his face in her hair.

She could feel every finger as he spread his hand against her and rubbed her back. The sensation was soothing and arousing at once. Warmth spread through her, and an ache grew in the private place between her thighs. She bit her lips, wanting so badly to act on her feelings and yet not daring.

He added, When it comes to Ferion, we need to think in probabilities, not assurances. And we need to think of how to get you out of here without triggering any response from him, or Malphas.

Both you and Ferion opened that door, she told him.Now I’m going to walk through it. You’re going to leave, and I’ll call Linwe in here and tell her we’re going for a walk. I like to walk in Central Park. For me, it’s a perfectly normal activity.

Good gods, Bel. Tell me you don’t go walking in Central Park at night. He sounded concerned and amused at once.

She pulled back to tilt an eyebrow at him. Do you really think anyone would see me, if I chose for them not to?

A smile creased his face. You have a point. He sobered. As soon as you’re out, I’ll come get you. We can still have that meeting tonight after all.

Her pulse quickened at the thought. Yes. I’ll be a half an hour—no later than an hour at the most, I promise.

His gaze darkening, he laid a big hand along the side of her cheek. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and neither did she. Promise though she might to meet him, it was still not a certainty.

She would probably meet him in no later than an hour.

Ferion would probably keep his word. At least, now she knew he wanted to.

Graydon muttered, You could still come with me now.

Just take your hand and fly into the night, she whispered back, smiling at him. How she wanted to. She couldn’t think of anything more perfect.

Yes. He took her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss into her palm. At the sensation of his lips against her sensitive skin, hot pleasure weakened the muscles in her legs.

She forced herself to remain coherent. I can’t just go with you. I don’t think we dare be that overt. We need to try to give at least the illusion of some normality, in order to support the lie. It isn’t only Ferion we need to be mindful of. Malphas might actually have other spies in the Elven household. If he’s spread thin, as Ferion’s surmised, what more logical way to keep an eye on one of his most valuable investments? That’s what I would do.

Air hissed between his teeth as he sucked in a breath. I hadn’t considered that possibility.

You’ve been busy, she told him. Unable to keep from touching him, she pressed one hand over his, at her cheek, smiling up at him.

His gaze grew heavy-lidded, piercing. Slowly, he lowered his head. He gave her plenty of time to realize his intent and pull away.

Even as she noticed it with one part of her mind, the rest of her grew fevered. She felt crazed by desire. She needed to feel his lips against hers so badly, she couldn’t stand it. Raising up on her tiptoes, she met his open mouth with hers.

The breath left his body in a shudder, as if he had slammed into a wall. Suddenly he crushed her against his chest, kissing her with the same kind of rampant hunger that swept through her like wildfire.

Slanting his lips over hers, he pierced her over and over with his tongue, fucking her mouth, while he gripped the back of her neck and held her in place.

A whimper escaped her. It was such a needy, sexual sound, it sent a thrill of shock through her.

It didn’t sound like her at all. She was usually so careful and considered. Her first instinct was to reach for diplomacy, to speak the quiet path and measure every action she took.

This sounded like a husky, impetuous stranger driven wild by her feelings, like someone who might do anything to be with the person she needed—including lying. Cheating. Killing. Her body caught fire.

In that moment, she forgot everything else. The bargain, the danger. Graydon could have done anything to her, and she would have welcomed it.

She needed him to do everything to her.

He growled softly. It wasn’t a nice, safe sound, full of affection or play. He sounded feral and dangerous. He sounded like she felt.

The beat of her pulse filled with urgent need. The rhythm became the entire world. She existed in the rushing flow of life in her veins.

Then he went taut, his massive body clenched in protest even as he dragged his mouth away from hers. His pulse hammered too, fast and hard, while his breathing had turned harsh and ragged.

She moaned, “You’re going to kill me.”

She hadn’t meant anything by it, but for some reason, he reacted poorly. He recoiled. Then, closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead against hers.

He whispered, “Not if I have anything to say about it, I won’t.”

She stared at him in perplexity. What an odd thing to say. She wanted to tell him, no, of course not. That wasn’t what I meant.

But before she could say anything, he gave her one more brief, swift kiss. He told her, I’ll see you outside in an hour or less.

Yes.

His arms fell away. She had a moment to mourn the loss, and for the first time, she felt the cold December wind. He turned, jumped onto the railing and leaped into the air. Just as he had on the beach, he shapeshifted into the gryphon and then disappeared in the next moment.

Staring after him, she sighed in equal parts pleasure and frustration. Then she turned to go back inside. Part of her wanted to worry at Graydon’s odd reaction, like a dog with a bone, but that would have to wait until later.

For now, she needed to change into sturdy walking clothes, summon Linwe and get out of the house.

Graydon exploded into the night sky with the kind of fury that came out of desperate longing.

Leaving her.

He was always leaving her.

That fact had been all but unendurable from the very beginning. Now it tore at him like harpy’s claws. The memory of her soft mouth moving under his, her slender body aligning against him, the small, sexy sound that had come out of her. His soul felt lacerated, his skin raw.

He needed to stay with her, but he shouldn’t. He needed to protect her from what came next, but he couldn’t. People were going to die, and it was always possible that one of them would be Ferion.

Or her.

Everything inside of him rebelled at the thought.

Not bloody likely. Not if he had anything to say about it.

This time, when his vision came, it slipped into him with the stealth of an assassin. White snow. Black rocks. The red of heart’s blood.

Ah, at long last, the vision felt close, very close.

He felt a fierce kind of satisfaction that he wouldn’t have been able to explain to any other person. One way or another, he was going to get this fucker off his fucking back.

As soon as he had cleared the Elven residence, he flew a few more blocks then landed and shapeshifted again. Digging out his phone, he texted Claudia and Luis, Julian, and Constantine to meet in ninety minutes at the suite in the hotel. Claudia and Luis could contact Rune and Carling.

Then, unable to wait passively, he changed back to the gryphon. Flying back to the Elven residence, he circled it, watching everything. He felt obsessed, like some lunatic stalker, but he couldn’t stop himself.

The Elven residence was a three-story detached brownstone mansion in the fashionable Flatiron District. Despite the lateness of the hour, lights shone in several different parts of the house. In the back, the walled garden lay mostly in shadow, with a few security lights shining along the walls.

As he circled, he watched the balcony doors and windows that led to Bel’s suite. Lights shone there too, until suddenly they went dark. His adrenaline spiked. At last, she was on the move.

Swinging around to pass over the front of the mansion, he kept his flight pattern tight and small, until he saw the front door open.

Bel and Linwe slipped outside. They walked down the street, Bel’s dark head close to Linwe’s bright pink one.

Graydon felt the impulse to follow them, but he stayed on task, watching the mansion.

A few moments after they had left, another Elf slipped out the front door. For a moment, the front porch lights illuminated the Elf’s face.

It was a male, the same guard that had pulled his weapon along with Ferion earlier in Bel’s room. After the Elf checked both directions, he started down the street after Linwe and Bel.

As he left the mansion, he became harder to detect. He had started to cloak himself.

The Elf had one major disadvantage. He wasn’t nearly as good at cloaking as Graydon was at stalking.

Coasting silently around forty yards in the air above the Elf, Graydon watched him for a few blocks until he was quite sure. The male was, indeed, following the two women.

His predatory instincts roused.

It would be so easy to kill him. All the gryphon would have to do was plummet down. His paws flexed as he considered. His long claws would pierce the guard’s body before the Elf had a chance to draw breath and scream. He could carry the body away to dispose of somewhere else.

The decision shook through his taut body, but one thought held him back. He didn’t know if the guard was Ferion’s and innocent, or Malphas’s spy.

Even then, the guard could be innocent, and simply suffering from the same kind of coercion as Malphas’s many other victims.

At the last thought, sanity intervened. He pulled himself up and shot ahead to the women. Swooping down, he glided over their heads.

You’re being followed, he said in Bel’s head. Two blocks back.

She tilted her head back. He caught a glimpse of her face before his trajectory took him past the women. Pulling up, he swept around and glided over them again.

Gray? Bel said. I’ve explained things—partially—to Linwe. There’s a taxi rank up ahead, in front of a block of restaurants. Linwe will take a taxi to Times Square, find an all-night restaurant and wait to hear from me. Can you pick me up?

Absolutely, he told her.

As they turned a corner, they walked out of sight of their stalker. Graydon plummeted. He landed beside Bel and let his own cloaking spell fall away.

At the same moment, she said to Linwe, “Run.”

Giving him one spooked glance, Linwe darted toward the nearby restaurants and taxis. He noted in satisfaction that she was a fast sprinter. Despite the snow and ice, she flew surefooted down the sidewalk.

As Linwe raced away, Bel leaped onto his back.

At long last, the space between his shoulders, that spot which had been empty for so long, felt complete again.

Hold on, he said.

Cloaking himself again, he launched and drove into the air as high and fast as he could. Wheeling, he flew back the way they had come.

Below, on the street, the Elven guard raced around the corner. After looking around, he sprinted toward the restaurants and the taxi rank.

“Linwe got away!” Bel said. “Even if he gets a taxi too, all they need is a head start of a few moments, and she’ll lose him.”

Good enough, the gryphon growled. Feel free to praise me for not killing the guard. He felt rather than heard the soft laugh that rippled through her body. She stroked the back of the gryphon’s neck. “You did such an excellent job,” she told him. “Thank you for restraining yourself.”

It was not easy, he told her, even as the pleasure of her touch rippled down his body. I’m feeling particularly growly and predatory right now.

“With good reason,” she said. The smile had died from her voice.

Everything will be okay, he told her.

He willed that he was right, with every ounce of strength he had inside him. He would make sure that it was okay.

If he was only strong enough, fast enough, smart enough.

If he could hold the course, find the right actions to take, he knew they could win through, despite what the vision warned.

He would make it happen. He would.

In short order, they reached the hotel. After landing and shapeshifting, he put his hand to Bel’s back and walked with her through the revolving door.

He could tell she was working her subtle magic, deflecting others from noticing them, because despite their fast pace, and despite the fact that Graydon was well known in New York and Bel’s face was internationally famous, no one turned to look at them or remarked on their presence.

They made it through the lobby without fuss, and took the elevator up to the suite. As he knocked on the door, she stood beside him, to all appearances looking calm and composed, but he noticed how she twisted her hands together until the knuckles showed white.

He covered her hands with one of his and squeezed. Her large, dark gaze lifted to his, and she gave him a grateful smile.

This time, Luis answered the door. The younger Wyr nodded a greeting to Graydon, while his gaze lingered on Bel.

Almost imperceptibly, Luis’s expression lightened, and despite the fact that the younger Wyr had mated with another woman, and the fact that Bel was not Graydon’s, he felt a possessive snarl build at the back of his throat and an almost uncontrollable urge to get violent.

The impulse knocked him back into himself. He was getting perilously close to mating behavior again. He had to find some way to throttle back emotionally, but the only way he knew to do that was to have a complete cutoff from her—and after enduring the last two hundred years, he didn’t know if he could make himself do it again.

As Luis stood back from the door, Graydon let Bel enter first. When he stepped inside, the younger Wyr murmured, “You okay?”

He shot Luis a glance. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Luis was so perceptive. “Don’t worry about it.”

Bel lingered and glanced over her shoulder at them. Smoothly, Luis switched to telepathy. Does she know how you feel?

He sounded concerned. Graydon shook his head at the younger man.

It’s complicated, he said shortly. And how I feel is not the focal point right now.

Understood. Luis said aloud, “The living room is pretty crowded, but this was the best place we could think of to maintain privacy.”

Graydon followed Bel down the short hallway. The younger Wyr hadn’t exaggerated. Counting Luis, nine other people awaited them. A couple of opened bottles of wine sat on the coffee table, along with Diet Cokes, and several glasses.

Graydon took a quick sweep of the room. Claudia sat in a yoga position, cross-legged on the floor, her spine straight and posture relaxed. She looked like she could maintain the position all night if needed. Luis joined her, sprawling on the floor beside her.

Carling and Rune occupied one comfortable armchair. Rune lounged in the chair, while Carling perched on one arm and draped her shapely torso along the back, curling around his shoulders like a cat.

Slightly disconnected from the others, Constantine stood by the window. He leaned against the wall in a casual pose, arms crossed and one ankle kicked over the other. His posture was relaxed, but his sharp, curious gaze took in everything.

Julian sat at one end of the large couch, while Melly sat on the floor at his feet and leaned against his legs.

There was another couple present, which came as a surprise to Graydon. Bel responded to a flurry of greetings as Graydon frowned at the new, unexpected pair. A human woman sat at the other end of the couch. She was young, with pretty features and strawberry blond hair.

Graydon recognized her easily. She was Grace Andreas, the most recent in a long line of Oracles that led back to ancient Greece. Standing beside her, arms crossed, stood a tall, imperious-looking Djinn male with raven hair, white skin and diamondlike eyes.

He was Grace’s lover Khalil, a second-generation Djinn. Graydon’s mind clicked through a mental Rolodex, until he had placed the Djinn’s connections. The most important one stood out. Khalil’s father was Soren, the head of the Elder tribunal.

Rune had followed the direction of his gaze and said telepathically, You do know they work for us too, right?

I know, Graydon said. He didn’t like any surprises at this late point in the game. I just wasn’t expecting them.

Trust me, Rune told him. Khalil has valuable experience to bring to the discussion. And both Khalil and Grace are every bit as reliable as Claudia and Luis.

Graydon relaxed slightly. He had known Rune for as long as he had known any of the other sentinels. Rune had been Dragos’s First sentinel for centuries, before he met and mated with Carling. Graydon did trust the other gryphon—with his life, if necessary.

With several people’s lives, if it came to that.

Claudia nudged Luis, who rose to step into the kitchenette. Returning, he carried two dining chairs, which he placed opposite the couch. Murmuring a thanks, Bel sat.

Choosing to stand, Graydon reached for one of the Diet Cokes and popped the tab. He had a feeling the caffeine would come in handy.

“I guess that’s everybody,” he said. “Thanks for coming.”

By the window, Constantine stirred. “Now that we’re all here, why don’t you tell us what the hell is going on?”

Graydon took a deep pull from his Diet Coke before he answered. “Some of you already know, or at least, I’m pretty sure you must suspect,” he said. “We’re here to discuss how to kill a Djinn.”

The atmosphere in the room shifted, as if everyone had drawn in a collective breath.

“No shit?” said Constantine. The other sentinel coughed out a laugh. “Now things have gotten really fucking interesting.”