A Magic King (33 page)

Jane!

He called to her with all his soul.

Jane!

He narrowed his focus again, slipping through the heavy morass toward the lighter darkness.

Jane!

The light flickered in recognition. Her soul.

She was alive!

Energized by the knowledge, he sped toward her, finally merging with all that was left of her. Their union was brief, but total in its joy.

Then began the work. His energies pulsed within her, feeding her flickering life, empowering her against the black bog that encapsulated them.

Help me, Jane. I can't do it alone.

He felt her struggle, weakened and disheartened, her efforts only able to maintain her life, not heal it. And he too was weakening, the poison beginning its insidious effects on his mind.

Still he pushed her on as they fought for both their lives, but the evil was like quicksand beneath their feet, shifting beneath them, sucking them under no matter how hard they struggled. There was no escape.

They would die. Daken felt her acceptance of it, that despite their efforts, she considered the end inevitable.

No!
Daken rebelled. He would not die this way. He would not give in to Kyree, not now, not after he had already vanquished the man in battle. He would not let Kyree take Jane either. But struggling to surface through the black morass was futile. With a sudden flash of insight, Daken realized they were going about it the wrong way.

Daken's energies were foreign to this body. His consciousness fought to maintain its integrity while slipping through her body like a tiny insect spreading health in its wake.

This, however, was Jane's body, Jane's home. She couldn't slip through the poison as he had. To live, she needed to clear off the evil permeating her body. She needed to maintain a steady center and expand outward until she was whole once again.

Daken had been trying to take her with him. In effect, drawing her out of her own body, and that would only happen in death.

Let me be your center, Jane. Let me support you as you grow outward.

She didn't seem to understand at first. As he hardened himself into a tiny kernel of energy, she seemed to surround him, clinging to the support he offered. She stayed that way, resting, feeding off the life he gave her.

Then suddenly she expanded. Using him as a foothold, she pushed outward, climbing in an ever-expanding sphere. The black cloak of poison had no choice but to recede, rolling backwards against her relentless pressure. As she expanded, Daken grew stronger, giving her more power with which to grow.

Then they were free. The liberation was like a sheet of white light pervading his senses, enveloping his soul.

She was alive!

It was in the midst of this expanse of white that he realized his work was done. Jane could heal on her own now, and he needed to return to himself or risk his own body fading away into death. Still, he was reluctant to leave. He liked his position as the center of her life. He enjoyed the warmth and communion they seemed to share.

She had her own center back now, and it pulsed beside him, beating in the joyful tempo of life. And subtly, it pushed him out. Her subconscious mind recognized the alien presence and strove to oust him from her newly-regained body. How like his Jane. Always striving for her independence.

He took his leave, returning to himself, solitary again, alone in his own body. He took a deep breath, rejoicing in his wholeness even while mourning the loss of their communion.

He opened his eyes.

And so did she. Her eyes were dilated, her skin a sickly gray. But she breathed. She was alive.

Beside them, Steve let out a breath, burying his face in her shoulder as he shuddered in reaction. Absently, she reached up and stroked his head, her eyes blinking up at Daken in confusion as she sought to orient herself.

Their battle had been waged in the depths of her subconscious. She would never remember what they shared.

Stifling a sigh, Daken pushed to his feet, and collapsed back down on the ground, his breathing heavy, his head spinning like a mating buzzfish.

"We should get out of here," he gasped into the floor, struggling to sit back up. "Jane needs to rest. We've got to tell Ginsen what happened." But his thoughts were actually on Kyree's gruesome body. He didn't want Jane to see it, didn't want her exposed to the butchery and ugliness of battle.

Finally, he pushed himself to his feet, using Kyree's workbench for leverage and still stumbling as his own weakness ate at his balance.

Then he looked at Jane. "Can you walk?"

He was worried about her. From within she seemed bathed in light and life, but now he saw that was only in comparison to the overwhelming presence of the deadly poison. Looking at her now, as a doctor views his patient, he saw the weakness of her aura, the deeply etched lines of fatigue and confusion.

Nevertheless, she nodded. "I..." Her voice was thready, barely above a whisper. She drew another breath, "I think so. Will you help me, Steve?"

Still shaking violently in her arms, the boy didn't seem to hear.

"Steve?" she repeated, her voice growing stronger with each word. "I need you. Just for a little longer. Think you can do it?"

Daken turned away, the faint tang of bitterness souring his mouth. He'd just saved her life, and now she turned to the boy, asking for his help. But of course, she didn't know what they'd just shared. She didn't remember, and so for her, they were still Oracle and King, Council Member and Petitioner.

Suddenly fed up with the situation, Daken made a resolution. Once she was fully recovered, once his own strength came back, they would talk. Or rather, he would correct her mistaken impression. There would always be more between them than cold, political ties. When he finally got her alone, he vowed, he would show her just how much they shared.

For now, there was business to attend to. Waiting beside her, he counted the seconds while she coaxed Steve out of his shock. Then all three together stumbled to the stairway.

She saw Kyree, of course. There was precious little possibility she'd miss the expanding pool of drying blood. She let out a brief gasp and turned her sickened eyes to Daken, her expression horrified, her accusation clear.

"He tried to kill all three of us," he said, the bite of his anger in every word. "If you had a better idea, why didn't you do it?"

Jane bit her lip and carefully skirted the gore. "I'm sorry. I've just never seen... I mean not in real life. A body..."

Daken nodded, feeling his insides churn with the movement. "It's nasty, brutal butchery, Jane. And I'm very good at it." He took a deep breath, hating the self-disgust that ate at his insides. "But without it, all three of us would be dead."

"And Kyree would be well on his way to butchering thousands more people the world over. Thank you, Daken." She glanced up at him, her eyes shining with love and gratitude. "Thank you for everything."

Daken acknowledged her thanks with a grunt. It wasn't gratitude he wanted from her. "We'll talk later," he muttered, his attention focused on getting the three of them up the stairs.

It wasn't until they'd made it to the top that Daken realized Kyree's hands were empty.

The gun was gone.

Chapter 13

Jane ground her teeth into the blanket, wrapping her arms around her body. The chills hadn't set in until after Daken left her. He had to tell Ginsen what happened, he'd said, and so she let him go, assuring him she would be fine.

But the moment he left her side, the chills began. It was as though Daken's presence held off the sickness, and now with him gone, she was vulnerable to a thousand pains.

She didn't call for Steve. The boy was sleeping, curled up in a tight ball near the fire. He was exhausted, his limp form looking more like a big pillow than a guard dog. Nevertheless, she knew he would stir at the slightest sound.

She lay in her bed as silently as possible while spasms racked her body. Between gasping breaths, she prayed for Daken to come back, his name dropping like a litany from her lips. She knew his very presence would soothe her tormented body.

She heard him the moment the door opened. From her position in bed, she could see into the outer room as he sent Steve away. "I'll watch her tonight," he said to the sleepy boy. "Take my chamber and don't let anyone wake you until you're ready to get up."

Steve left, and a moment later, Daken was in her room, his large form a comfort rather than the diminishment she used to feel.

"By the Father! You're shaking like a leaf. Why didn't you say something?"

"N-n-nothing he-e-e could d-d-do."

She heard his muttered curses as he stripped off all his clothes except his undergarments—soft breeches that looked like long biker shorts. Then without another word, he settled into her bed, pulling her flush against the heat of his body before settling the blankets over them.

"Th-th-thanks-s." Already the spasms were subsiding into mere shivers. Soon they would be gone altogether.

"Shhh," he whispered into her hair. "Try to sleep."

"You too-oo. You're t-tired too." She nuzzled deeper against him, the downy soft hairs of his chest tickling her nose.

She slept.

* * *

She woke hours later. From the silence of the campus, Jane knew it must be past midnight, maybe later. Despite the terror of all she experienced, her encounter with Kyree had lasted less than an hour. Daken had joined her in bed long before most of the campus was asleep.

Feeling warm and comfortable as she hadn't in years, Jane snuggled against the hard planes of Daken's chest. Beneath her ear, she could hear the steady beat of his heart. She sighed happily, curling her fingers into his chest hairs.

She didn't know what tipped her off that he was awake. His chest continued to rise and fall with a slow, steady rhythm. Perhaps it was the gentle pressure of his arm around her back, keeping her flush against him. Or perhaps it was a side effect of the communication spell. Whatever the reason, Jane lifted her head to look down into the dark well of his eyes.

"Daken?"

A shudder ran through him, and his other arm came around her, locking her against his chest with a ferocity as startling as it was welcome. She returned the bear hug as best she could, showing him with her touch that she needed him as well.

"I almost lost you," he rasped, his voice a low rumble of anguish translated directly from his body into hers.

"But you didn't. I'm alive, thanks to you."

His hold gentled as he partially withdrew into himself. "Not thanks to me. Thanks to Steve."

"No—"

But his words continued, flowing like blood from a wound that wouldn't close. "Steve made me try. I'd never seen poison like that before. I was... I was so sure you were dead." His voice broke on his last word and once again, he crushed her against him.

She let the embrace continue, returning as much as she received. Eventually, she pushed away, raising up on her elbow so she could see his face.

"But you did try, and you did save my life. I owe you more than I could ever repay. I owe you everything."

He reached up a hand to brush the hair from her eyes. She turned into his palm, kissing the calluses she found there.

"You don't owe me anything," he said. When she turned to deny it, he pulled her down to him, taking her lips in a kiss both hungry and afraid. She returned his desperation with passion, opening herself to him as easily as a bud opens to the sun.

He plundered her mouth. Touching, stroking, tasting her in a frenzy of movement, and she was nearly overcome with the sensuous assault. It was just a kiss, but he attacked it like a man fighting to keep gold in a leaky sieve.

Instead of matching his furor, she did her best to soothe him. She gave herself to him, telling him as best she could that she was alive, and she was his.

He still held her, one hand at the back of her head, pulling her down to him. In time, after her lips were bruised and swollen, he finally gentled his touch. Then he broke away, taking a shaky breath as he buried his face in her shoulder.