Shadow's End

SIXTEEN

The surge of relief Graydon felt at Soren’s words was painful in the extreme.

Imperceptible though his connection to Malphas was, it had become unbearable, as heavy as the shackle Ferion had said he carried.

Starting to nod, he forced himself to pause and consider every angle. He said tensely, “What if you try and fail?”

Bel twisted her hands together, her expression mirroring his feelings. They had come too far, and had gone too long, to screw this up now.

Soren’s brusque manner softened as he regarded Bel. He told them, “I will not fail. If I cannot remove the connection from you without alerting the other Djinn, I will not do it. But I am one of the oldest and strongest of my kind. I am also one of the most adept. I have removed connections before that have been deemed invalid, when I’ve acted as either a member of the Djinn assembly or as head of the Elder tribunal.”

“Yes,” Bel said suddenly. “I believe you. Please, do it.”

Soren inclined his head. He glanced at Graydon, and instead of approaching Bel, he held out his hand.

She strode over to him, slipping her fingers in his. Graydon tensed. He hated how close the other male was to her, and he fought the urge to knock them apart. Violent thoughts flashed through his mind, and his body knotted, muscles leaping with tension.

Vaguely he was aware that the other Wyr, Luis, Rune and Constantine, were all watching him closely. He knotted his hands into fists in an effort to maintain control.

Bel and Soren stood looking into each other’s eyes. Something happened, some tiny shift, that was too subtle for Graydon to fully assess.

Soren said quietly, “It’s gone.”

“You’re sure?” Graydon demanded.

Soren gave him a wary glance. “Yes, I’m quite sure.”

Bel’s composure splintered, painfully and completely.

Her face twisted. Bending over at the waist, she cried out, “We’ve got to stop Malphas! We have to kill him! He trapped and enslaved my son. Oh gods, he’s enslaved him for two hundred years. I need him dead!”

Her raw, anguished fury rocketed around the room. In response, Grace’s eyes filled, and Claudia and Luis flinched. Carling angled her face away, while Constantine and Julian stared at Bel, their eyes burning.

Soren turned to him. “Come, gryphon. Take your freedom.”

Graydon had to fight an almost overwhelming urge to step forward. The need to be free came close to eclipsing everything else. He shook his head and said harshly, “No.”

“Dude,” said Constantine.

Bel straightened to stare at him. “No?”

“We need to get Malphas onto a battlefield,” Graydon told her. “That means I need to be able to summon him. Then we have to hit him as hard and as fast as we can, so he can’t get away.”

“He’s right,” Khalil said. “Setting a trap will give you the highest probability of success. If Malphas goes on the run, waging war against him will be drawn out, miserable, and twice as dangerous. That’s what happened when we fought and killed Lethe.” When Khalil and Carling looked at each other, a shadow fell over both their faces. He finished quietly, “The damage from that war was very great.”

“I can help with that,” said Julian.

Graydon’s eyes narrowed. “How?”

“As Vampyres age, our attributes get stronger, just like any of the other Elder Races.” After returning to the suite Julian hadn’t bothered to sit again. He stood, arms crossed, with Melly at his side.

“Exactly what does that mean for you?” Soren asked. “What attribute do you bring to this confrontation?”

“I can hold onto my prey,” Julian told them. “If I can get my hands on Malphas, he won’t be going anywhere. Not unless he either frees himself, or I’m dead.”

Beside Julian, Melly’s face turned bone white. She whispered, “That’s ridiculously suicidal.”

“I figure it’ll get intense.” Julian jerked his head in a short acknowledgment. “Which means everybody else is going to have to kill him quick.”

Julian and Melly’s dialogue faded into silence, as they had an obviously tense and quick telepathic exchange. Melly gestured, her movements jerky and uncontrolled, and Julian hauled her into a tight hug.

Rune’s attention had remained fixed on Graydon. He said, “You might summon Malphas, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll show up.”

He acknowledged that with a nod. “I’ve thought of that too. I haven’t called on Malphas in two hundred years. He’ll come. He’ll be too curious not to. The most critical thing we’ll need to do is make sure our attacking forces are cloaked so completely, Malphas doesn’t sense them. He’ll need to believe I’m alone.”

Bel came to his side. She touched his arm, watching his face. “Do you think you can get him to stay long enough to solidify, so that Julian can get hold of him?”

“I think so,” he told her. “Especially since I’m going to offer him the one thing he can’t resist.”

“Not another bargain, I hope,” Constantine said.

“Oh, no.”

“What do you have in mind?” Rune asked, narrow-eyed.

The predator in Graydon came to the forefront. The savagery of his anticipation for the upcoming confrontation filled him completely.

Until they finished this, Malphas could still discover what had happened. He could still torture or control Ferion, and if the Djinn saw that his connection to Bel had been removed, she would be in even more danger than before.

Finally, finally, the waiting, the calculation, and planning were over.

They had to end this quickly, before they lost the element of surprise.

He bared his teeth in a hard smile. “I’m going to offer Malphas a wager. Who’s in?”

“Me,” said Julian. Beside him, Melly’s eyes filled, but she folded her lips tight and didn’t object.

Rune and Carling glanced at each other and nodded. Rune said, “We’re both in.”

“Fuck, yeah,” said Constantine. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“And I,” said Soren heavily. “I’ll also ensure we have Peacekeeper troops. They can maintain a perimeter, provide a backup assault, and help with—the aftermath.”

Soren meant they could help with the wounded and casualties. The room fell silent, as everyone absorbed his true message.

Claudia said, “Much as I hate to say it, Luis and I are outclassed and outgunned for the main fight, but we’re very willing to help with any backup you might need.”

“I’m afraid I can’t offer anything further, either,” Grace told them. “None of my skill set is suitable for this battle, and as Khalil has already said, I’m the guardian of two small children. I can’t put myself in danger. I’m out.”

“I can offer help,” Khalil said unexpectedly. As the others turned to stare at him in surprise, he added, “I won’t go into battle. That much is still true, but I can provide quick transportation if needed.”

Melly said between her teeth, “Goddammit.”

In a gentle voice, Julian told her, “You’re out.”

“I know.” Tears glittered in her eyes. “I know. Goddammit!”

The only one in the room who hadn’t spoken yet was Bel. Turning to her, Graydon saw that she was composed and calm again. A wave of tenderness washed over him. She didn’t have the skill set to fight a Djinn either.

When she spoke, she didn’t do as he expected and acknowledge that she was not suited for the upcoming battle.

Instead, she said, “Unquestionably, the fight with Malphas is going to be the most dangerous part of this whole venture. But there’s still another war to be fought, and that’s keeping Ferion alive and protected. As we don’t have any idea if Malphas has spies in the Elven household, or how many, that’s my battleground.”

He flexed his hands, fiercely willing himself to not shapeshift. By sheer force of will, he kept his rigid expression from transforming and his talons from emerging.

He had gotten too focused on his hunt and had stopped thinking about anything else. A sneaky part of him had been too relieved that Bel wasn’t suited to a fight with Malphas, and he’d stopped considering anything further.

She would still be in danger, and he couldn’t be with her, or protect her.

As Melly had said, goddammit.

Goddammit.

While he struggled to maintain control, everyone seemed to speak at once as they laid plans. After the most brutally long, difficult wait of his life, events hurtled forward, faster than he could control.

The team that would attack Malphas needed a site where they could lay the trap. Rune and Constantine drew close to Graydon while they batted ideas back and forth. Their conversation snagged his attention. Focusing, he joined in.

On the one hand, it felt good to plot strategy with the other two gryphons. It felt right in a way that had everything to do with the centuries they had worked together in countless similar situations.

On the other hand, Graydon’s muscles jumped underneath his skin. He couldn’t stop staring at Bel as she was surrounded by the others, immersed in her own strategy meeting.

Once or twice, she looked toward him too. When their eyes met, it was with a shock of connection that knocked everything and everyone else aside.

He had to force himself to turn away and concentrate on the task at hand.

“Finding the right kind of venue is going to be tough,” Rune said, rubbing his jaw.

“It’s got to be in New York,” Graydon said. “Otherwise, with the masque so close, I don’t think Malphas will buy it.”

Constantine frowned, crossing his arms. “But it’s got to be away from other people. There has to be room for the fight, and no room for collateral damage.”

Rune released a frustrated sigh. “I agree, but that’s a very narrow set of requirements. If you want an abandoned warehouse area, there are a few places in Queens or in Brooklyn along the East River that might work.”

“No,” Graydon said. “That feels too risky.”

“What about the FDR Four Freedom memorial?” Constantine asked. “It’s on the tip of Roosevelt Island, and it closes overnight.”

“That’s a possibility,” Graydon said slowly.

But he didn’t like it, and he could see the same dissatisfaction on the other two men’s faces. Not only did the memorial close at night, but it was also winter—yet those factors only lessened the risk of possible harm to others. They didn’t negate it.

None of them really knew what kind of area the battle would cover. So much of that would hinge on whether or not Julian could maintain his hold and truly keep the Djinn grounded.

Constantine said, without much conviction, “Governors Island. Again, it’s closed to the public at night.”

Rubbing his neck, Graydon shook his head. “I don’t know, man. I don’t like it.”

Rune snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. Hart Island.”

Graydon blew out a slow breath, as he thought about it. Hart Island was at the western end of the Long Island Sound. He could reach the island quickly and easily by air, so it was close enough to allay any suspicion.

Roughly a mile long, and a quarter of a mile across, Hart Island was also inaccessible to the public. Over a decidedly dark history, it had been a quarantine, an insane asylum, a workhouse for boys, a missile base, a Civil War prison camp, and a potter’s field—and now the island was the largest tax-funded cemetery in the world.

Aside from prison burial crews and a ferry that landed at a memorial gazebo once a month, the island lay abandoned, haunted by a dark past and the dead.

It was also warded by prison guards detailing burial crews by day, and with copious restricted area and no trespassing signs. There were crumbling buildings, along with an uneven landscape along the shore, which would offer plenty of places for Peacekeeper troops to hide as they lay in wait.

Tactically, the island was perfect.

“Yes,” he said. Constantine nodded.

“One last thing, which is no longer my call to make,” said Rune. He watched the two sentinels’ faces closely. “Do we tell Dragos?”

Graydon met Constantine’s blue eyes. “You know my feeling about it, but I’m also aware that I’m too close to this issue to be objective.”

“I agree with your earlier decision,” Con said to him. “Some of us have had more than enough challenges to face over the last eighteen months. If we tell Dragos, he’ll be tempted to get involved, and this doesn’t have to be his fight. We have a strong enough force as it is. We move ahead on our own.”

Rune said, “Your call, guys.”

Constantine lifted one broad shoulder. “Hey, it’s why he’s got sentinels in the first place. Otherwise, we’d be, I dunno, secretaries, or some dumb shit like that.”

For the first time in what felt like a long time, Graydon burst out laughing. “Indeed, my man,” he said. “We’d be some dumb shit like that.”

Rune clapped Graydon on the shoulder. “I’m going to check in with Carling and see what the other group has decided.”

When he left them, Constantine moved closer to Graydon. The two men watched as Rune maneuvered around furniture and people to reach Carling’s side. He touched her shoulder, and Carling’s face softened as she looked up at him. Rune leaned over to kiss her temple.

Telepathically, Constantine asked, Do you think he regrets it at all? I mean, leaving his position as First.

Maybe, sure, Graydon said. Sometimes. In certain moods. Regret’s kinda the underbelly of all those “what if” questions we ask ourselves late at night. He didn’t stop caring about any of us just because he mated with Carling. Yet, I don’t think he ever regretted mating with her. They both enjoy the work they do through their agency. It’s challenging and rewarding, and I believe he’s happy. Really happy.

I wonder what it feels like, said Con. To have someone become your whole world, and to have them rely on you. Must be a hell of a thing.

It felt painful. Necessary.

Hovering on the edge of mating as he was, he couldn’t think of any other words to describe it.

Constantine’s gaze cut sideways to him. Would you ever think about leaving your position for a woman?

The other man’s question wasn’t an idle one, he knew. Not after what everybody had witnessed happen earlier. He looked at Bel again. She was hugging Grace. As she let go, Khalil swept Grace away in a swirl of Power, no doubt taking her back home to her niece and nephew in Florida.

I made a promise, Graydon said. Not when we became sentinels. I mean recently. And I intend to do everything in my power to keep it.

Somehow, he would. Never mind that at the moment conflicting needs threatened to tear him into pieces. He would hold the course. All he had to do was figure out how.

She’s your chance, man. Con gave him a sidelong smile. You’ve got to take it.

Determination hardened his resolve. We’ll see what we have together—after.

He had calmed enough from the frenzy that had touched him earlier to remember the many tensions and challenges that lay between him and Bel. It was impossible to grapple with any of them properly, to move forward or settle emotionally, until Malphas was dead.

The Djinn may not have killed him yet, but he still had brought Graydon’s life to a stop.

One way or another, that ended tonight.

Pivoting, he took stock of everybody, assessing the mood in the room.

Tension pulled the air tight, vibrating like the string on a bow before an arrow is unleashed. People talked faster, fueled by adrenaline, their voices crisp as they laid their plans.

While the three gryphons had talked, Bel must have called Linwe, because at some point the younger Elf had arrived at the suite. Soren had also fetched another Councillor from the Elder tribunal, a tall Elven woman named Sidhiel Raina. Both the newcomers looked shocked and sober, so the others must have filled them in on the news.

Khalil returned as well, and both Djinn left to organize and transport troops of Peacekeepers to Hart Island. And somehow—Graydon hadn’t tracked how, exactly—Julian had acquired a rare Elven suit of armor.

He emerged from one of the bedrooms after donning it, carrying a helmet under one arm. The suit molded the contours of his powerful body, the subtle matte of its surface providing a natural camouflage as it reflected the colors of the room. While the camouflage would be effective in any number of scenarios, especially from a distance, this time it wouldn’t be adequate to hide him from the Djinn. Once Julian and Graydon had decided their final positions, Carling would have to cast her strongest cloaking spell in order to hide him.

Finally, Graydon couldn’t stand it any longer. He strode over to Bel, where she stood in a tight huddle with Sidhiel, Linwe, Melly, Luis and Claudia. As he approached, she turned to face him. She had been watching him too.

The others retreated. Sidhiel and Linwe lingered the longest, until Luis and Claudia took their arms and pulled them away. Surprise and objection flashed across the Elven women’s faces, but they acquiesced to the others’ urging.

As Melly left, she said quietly to Bel, “We’re ready to go when you are. We’ll wait for you outside.”

“Thank you,” Bel told her.

The door to the suite closed quietly behind the Light Fae princess.

Graydon lifted his eyebrows. “Melly’s going with you?”

Bel nodded jerkily, flattening her hands on his chest as he drew her close. Absently, she stroked her palms across his pectorals as she replied, “She said it would be too unbearable to watch and wait while Julian goes into battle.” Her dark gaze lifted to his. “I understand how she feels.”

Bowing his head, he rested his forehead against hers. “As do I. I hate that you have to confront Ferion without me.”

“We don’t have a choice,” she whispered as she clenched her fingers on his biceps. “Everything has to happen simultaneously. Soren can’t try to remove the soul lien until Julian has Malphas trapped, otherwise we’ll run the danger of tipping Malphas off. And we have no idea what’s going to happen when Soren does remove it, or what kind of attention we may draw from the rest of the household.”

He gritted his teeth. “If only there was any other way to do this. Tell me Linwe is going to guard you.”

She nodded again. “And Sidhiel. Between Sidhiel and I, we should represent enough authority to try to win some kind of control over the situation, if—if Ferion can’t.”

Ferion could die when the soul lien was removed. He could be dangerously unstable. Graydon’s face tightened as his mind raced through various catastrophic scenarios.

“Letting you go is the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” he gritted.

Just as it had been the last time. As it had been every time.

She threw her arms around his neck. “Absolutely do not worry about me,” she told him in a strong, steady voice. “Don’t give it a foothold in your thoughts. Not only will Sidhiel and Linwe be accompanying me, but also, Luis, Claudia and Melly will be going too. And Soren, at least until he frees Ferion. It’s a good, strong group. We’ll be all right.”

He needed to believe that. Tightening his arms around her, he concentrated fiercely on the sensation of her long, slender body against his.

She murmured, “You’re the one I’m worried about. Gods, Graydon. The risk you’re taking. I feel sick thinking about it.”

As dark as a raven’s wing, the vision brushed along the edge of his mind. White, black and red like heart’s blood.

It was so close now, he could almost touch it.

“Don’t think about it,” he murmured. He passed his hand over her silken hair. “Instead, think about this.”

Even as her pretty, plump lips began to form a question, he covered her mouth with his.

For one moment, everything else fell away. He surrendered his soul to it and kissed her with all the passion he had, eating at her plump, soft mouth like it was a banquet he had never eaten before, and would never have again.

Underneath his lips, her mouth came alive, and she kissed him back with such transparent, desperate longing, it tore at him inside.

Cupping her face, he whispered against her lips, “There’s nothing else but this. Nothing else but us.”

Her mouth trembled. “I—I don’t know how I can bear it if . . .”

He kissed her again, hard. “Stop, don’t think of it. Be here, right now. We have all the time in the world. We’ve lived together for years. Picture it . . . Look at how happy we are.”

Her eyes flew open. As she stared at him, two tears spilled out of the corners of her eyes and flowed over his fingers. She tried to smile. “We’ve lived together?”

He nodded, pressing his lips to her forehead. “We’ve had children. What a handful they’ve been, growing up, but we’ve loved every minute of it. And we did buy that house, outside the city. We go there every chance we can.”

“The one with the big, private yard,” she breathed. Her fingers curled around his wrists, thumbs working over his skin.

Hungry for her mouth again, he kissed her over and over. “We have the most beautiful garden,” he told her. “It’s a bit wild and secretive, but we like that very much.”

A ghost of a laugh came out of her, the tiniest shiver of air against his lips. “I have a vegetable garden in the sunniest part of the yard. You go hunting, and bring home wild game.”

“And our friends come to visit.” He smiled against her mouth, thinking of it. “We are always happy to see them and yet glad when they leave, so we can have the place to ourselves again.”

“It’s so beautiful,” she breathed. “You’re right, I am happy. I’m more happy than I ever dreamed possible.”

All the immense number of hours he had experienced throughout countless days, and they counted as nothing against the richness of the life he lived in that one moment.

When the suite door opened, the beast inside him wanted to rage at the interruption. He let the impulse die. There would be plenty of fighting, soon enough.

Constantine said quietly, “Gray, it’s time. Everything is set up. We’ve got to go.”

Just like that, with a few quiet words, their happy, rich life together that was built in a single moment faded.

Their eyes met. The brightness that had begun to touch Bel’s face darkened.

Dropping his hands, Graydon stepped back.

Leaving her. He was always leaving her.

Turning away was like taking a knife to the gut. Somehow, he managed to speak around the pain. “On my way.”