Bloodring (30 page)

“It won't matter if his gifts are ruined and unusable; they will want him anyway. But in a Realm, he'll be lost, an outcast, isolated, perhaps imprisoned. And because he may well be without the ability to use any of his gifts, he'll be worthless to them, useless, as the second-unforeseen were without use until we became warriors. His life as he knew it is over. They will take him. Unless . . . ,” he said.

“Unless what?”

“Unless he chooses, as we two chose, to say nothing. To live as he desires, instead of as the archseraph chooses. He may be willing to keep our secrets if we keep his. An association of sorts, with self-preservation as its establishing bylaw.”

That sounded pretty good to me. Positively ducky. If he could pull it off it meant no hot pincers, no shackles, no going insane. “Sure.” I wondered if that meant I'd get a chance to—

“If he agrees, you will have to give up any thoughts of taking him as your mate.”

I kept my face on the kylen, my expression unchanged, though my body reacted to the words. I fully recognized that if I took Thaddeus Bartholomew to my bed, I would conceive and bear a litter of half-mage, half-kylen pups. My mind twisted through the screwy genealogy. It would make my children one-half mage, through me, and through their father, one-fourth human, three-sixteenths mage, one-sixteenth-seraph. They could be powerful, or they could be powerless. That part would be a crapshoot. But one thing was certain. I would be found out and destroyed. My children taken away and raised by the seraphs. “I couldn't have him anyway. They wouldn't let me.”

“No. They wouldn't.”

Thadd hung up the phone, moving slowly, as only humans can move. I had found the leisurely motions disconcerting when I came here as a child. Now they spoke of safety and home. The kylen should be able to move nearly as quickly as I, however, which had to be another response to the ring's workings. Only a seraph could conjure a ring that could juggle so many different incantations at one time.

He met my gaze. “She lied to me. My whole life.” It was an indictment he laid at his mother's door, and equally at ours for revealing the hidden and unknown to him. If not for us, he would never have discovered the awful secret his mother had kept for so many decades. Her fault. Our fault. With Thadd the only innocent party. That his mother had slept with a kylen was no sin in the eyes of the world, that she had hidden the pregnancy and then the child was.

“And what will you do now, kylen?” Audric asked. “Will you turn us in and yourself as well? Arrest your mother? Arrest your father, a being you have never met, but who may wish to meet you, develop a relationship? Or will you take a different path?” At Thadd's questioning look, he said, “Keep our secrets. Let us keep yours.”

The air in the loft swirled with anger pheromones as the cop looked at us, at the phone in his hand, and then to the mirror and the wing bone structure that had tried to sprout. I wanted to trace my fingers down the ridges, run my tongue across the red scratches. And I knew I could never take the chance. I hooked my fingers around my restored prime amulet, drawing on its protection.

Thadd placed the phone in his pocket and walked to his shirt, pulling the torn fabric gingerly up his arms and into place on his back. He unkinked the tie and draped it around his neck. Slipped into the holster and suit coat. Audric tensed as the cop touched his gun, but the moment of danger had passed.

Dressed, Thadd extended his hand and stared at the ring, which had shrunk to fit his slender fingers, spelled, both man and ring. A mighty amulet, created for a kylen by a kylen or a seraph. His father? Had to be. “Can you scry for the amethyst?”

My mouth opened slightly. I had no idea. I started to say so, but Audric held up a hand. “Do you agree, Hand of the Law, that we will protect one another? That we will keep one anothers' identities undisclosed?”

Thadd nodded stiffly. “Yes. For now.” Audric dropped his hand and Thadd looked at me. “Can you?”

“I never thought about it,” I said. “Maybe.” I could ask the lavender stone in the storeroom to show me where it came from . . . and gain even more of it. Lovely, lovely purple stone, lovely lavender energies. And it would be all mine. I'd be drunk, gorged on power. That was almost as good as mating with a kylen. Almost. “I'll try. Later.”

His tone diffident, Thadd said, “I came here in an official capacity. To tell you that Jason Stanhope is dead.”

I was glad I was sitting down. He'd done that little drop-and-punt thing again.

“The body was drained of blood and pretty chewed up. An elder was found nearby, burned to a crisp. You know anything about it?”

“First I've heard,” Audric said. “Have you told Rupert?”

“Yeah. Just now. Ciana was listening to music,” he said at my concerned look. The cop glanced at the bigger man. “Not a lot of love lost between the brothers, was there?”

“Jason was a drunk, a wife abuser, and a gambler,” Audric said. “He brought nothing but shame on the family for the last ten years. Jason had also been branded twice; once for cursing, once for blasphemy. His lack of self-control in front of kirk elders was well known.”

I was surprised. I had known Jason was a trouble-maker but hadn't known he'd been kirk branded.

“The family had it done privately,” Audric said. “The elder who performed them put both in inconspicuous places.” Audric looked back to the cop. “When did he die?”

“Last night. We think between two and four a.m. The body was resting on top of El-car tracks in the mud. We know exactly when the El-car went down the road, and the body was discovered at six a.m., already cold.”

“Cop El-car?” Audric asked. Thadd nodded, and Audric said, “I'm guessing that the public knows this already, or you wouldn't be telling us so much.”

Thadd inclined his head, composed. Except that his shirt had no buttons, he looked like his ordinary self. I was hoping the shirt would gap a bit, but his posture was pretty good. “The body was discovered by an SNN reporter. Her screaming woke half the block. The rumor mill got it all correct except a few details. Even SNN got it right.”

“Imagine that,” Audric said, the mocking tone again in his voice.

“One of the details they didn't get was the rock dust they found at the scene.”

“Amethyst dust,” I said, instantly. “Ground-up amethyst.”

“And how do you know that?”

I smiled at the kylen and opened my mage-sight. “I smell it on you.” I pointed at a pocket. “You put some of it there.” He looked at the pocket and scowled at me. “And if you didn't have as big a secret as we do, you'd take me in because of that.” I peeled myself off the couch and walked to him, moving slowly and deliberately. “But I'm a mage, kylen. You'd have to catch me first.” In an instant I spun and darted across the room. It took him about three seconds to spot me coiled beside the tub. “Catch me, mate me if you can,” I sang, feeling the mage-heat flare anew.

Audric sighed. “Go home, Thadd. She'll try to scry for the stone.”

Clearly not happy, Thadd left the loft. But I could still smell him.

Audric stalked to a window and threw it open. “I have to go see Rupert. You, little mage, are going to have to watch your mouth.”

I stood up from the tub. “What'd
I
do? He's the one sprouting wings.”

 
The heat hangover lasted most of the day, leaving me with a headache that pounded with each heartbeat and refused to respond to over-the-counter meds. In the intervening hours, Rupert notified his gramma about the death of his brother and made arrangements for a funeral. The service would take place once the police released the body, though that could take weeks. Rupert decided not to feign public mourning for his brother's passing, and refused to speak of the death.

Near dusk, when the sun rested on the ridge of the mountains to the west, I felt well enough to scry for the amethyst. Rupert kept Ciana busy in his apartment making sugar cookies, while Audric and I set up the conjure. This time, Audric locked the door.

Using the excuse of needing a larger quantity of the amethyst to work with, I brought up a double-fist-sized hunk of the lavender crystal, one that appeared to have lain in contact with the ground for long years on one side, but was freshly broken off the motherstone on the other. It was both comforting and energizing to hold so much amethyst. To make the circle, I used clean salt, untainted by the mystic residue of past conjurings. I added the silver bowl and water, candles, my knife in case I needed blood, a small steel mallet, and all my amulets. Satisfied that I had everything I might need, I centered myself and closed the circle.

With the hunk of amethyst beside me, it was easy to gauge the amount of creation energy I needed for the scrying. I was able to resist the pull of the deeps, settling my amulets over my head without difficulty. In mage-sight, I was an inferno of purple light. It was becoming too easy. And maybe Audric thought so too. He said, “You okay? This is . . . odd.”

I soaked up the amethyst energy like a drunkard would a bottle of rum, and sighed a long breath that I could follow with the enhanced mage-sight. A purple mist of breath. “Easy as pie,” I said. Audric raised his brows, which made me giggle. Yep. I was power drunk, all right. And I wanted more.

Struggling to put on a serious expression, I said, “I'm fine,” and waved him away from the circle. I took slow breaths, and when I was calm and wouldn't chortle in the middle of the incantation, I took up the hunk of crystal, setting it into the water in the silver bowl. Fine bubbles of air were trapped along its sides, like perfectly round baubles of light.

We didn't think I needed an incantation for this but hoped I could simply match my body's energies to that of the stone and then use mage-sight to look for a resonance. I pictured the ground, broken gray boulders and snow, a big purple rock protruding. When I was perfectly centered, I dropped a small shard of amethyst into the water. It plunked down, sending clear, concentric rings out from the center of impact. The shard swirled through the water fast and landed with a tap on the larger stone beneath. Without pause, I dropped in a second crystal, and a third. When nothing happened, I took up the knife and pierced my finger. Three drops of blood fell into the water. It swirled and spread, a soft cloud of ruby over the lavender stone. The water darkened as I watched, the vision as lightless as the inside of a mine. Rough walls, dirt with roots protruding. Dark, but with a strange glow, like the color of my blood in the water. There was no purple stone.

I almost gasped but managed to maintain my breathing. I searched the dark vision. Dripped in three more drops of blood. Through the images,
something
reached out, mage-fast. A clawed hand. Bloodied. It ripped through the vision and slashed my face, blinding me. It grabbed my body. My breath stopped. It wasn't mage-fast. But demon-fast.

“Mage,”
it whispered in my mind.
“My mage.”

I struggled in the grip, fought for a breath, pulling against it. I forced my eyes open. I was no longer in my apartment. I was underground. Sulfur burned me, acid bright. The claw around my middle tightened. My breath stopped, and I couldn't turn my head. A fire burned in a brazier. Water trickled. Blood splashed softly. A flat-topped stone was in the center of a charmed circle.
An altar.
Lucas was spread-eagled across the altar stone.

To his side, sitting on the ground, was a mage. I was so stunned, I stopped fighting to breathe. The mage was filthy and emaciated. Dark hair hung in lank strands over her face. Her mouth moved in an incantation, her blood dripping fast into a stoneware bowl. Lucas' blood dripped nearby, a steady tink. She was shouting the prophecy Lolo had spoken as I was born. The mage was scrying for me.
“A Rose by any Other Name will still draw Blood.”
She repeated. Her thoughts were instantly in my head, beneath the incantation of the prophecy.
“Help me, mage. Help me.”

Our eyes met; she lifted her bleeding hand and wiped it across Lucas' side, leaving a long smear, mixing her blood with his and spreading the mixture on heavy steel links. A short length of strong chain.

The scene darkened. I still had not taken a breath. I pulled against the hold of the Darkness, fought, threw back my head, but I was immobilized in the grip of the thing. The Power. My heart stuttered, missing beats. I was caught underground. By a Power. I heard it laugh. Beneath the grating tone came the beat of a drum, the tone of a flute, and Lolo's voice, too soft to hear.

The Dark mage's eyes widened in shock and hope.
“Lolo?”
she asked.

With mage-sight dimming, I could almost see the mathematical properties of Lolo's incantation, like linked droplets, alternating large and small. Lolo, who was in my mind again, as she had been the last time I had used the amethyst to conjure. That was important somehow, but a problem for later, if I lived that long. My lungs burned. If I passed out, I'd belong to the thing that had trapped me. Almost out of strength, hot coals blistering my lungs, I prepared myself and suddenly went limp, resting in its grip, letting it support me.

A tremor ran through the hand that held me and I could have sworn I startled it. Prepared for the jolt of vertigo and nausea, I took advantage of the Power's surprise and stole a breath of air, converting it into a quick scan.

I could see Lolo's conjure forming round circles of power, like tiny, interconnected diamond drills, a rivulet of them, corroding into the strands of the Darkness' conjure as she wrapped her incantation around it. But as each strand of the dark conjure was cut, another grew to take its place, a spider lace of glowing red and black strands. Desperately, my vision again drawing to a pinpoint of perspective, I drew on the amethyst.