Fire Kissed (11 page)
Then he put her to bed, drew a chair to the side. Waited.
The vigilante, whom Jack learned was named Tom Peterman, was taken from his home late that night by mages—Grey’s people, Jack was sure. Peterman would tell Grey what he saw Kaye do.
She slept through the next day, and she couldn’t be roused for food or drink. Her skin seemed thinner, her lush body hollow. Jack felt hollow too.
Mr. Peterman was delivered back to his doorstep, dead, one of the first casualties of the war. Jack decided not to tell Kaye anything about it. More darkness on his soul, compromises made that couldn’t be helped.
When Kaye didn’t stir on the third day, Jack appealed to The Order for aid. They sent an angel by the name of Custo Santovari.
Kaye cracked an eye. The brightness of the room made her close it again. She had the weirdest sensation of being like dead weight, and yet strangely bodiless as well. She didn’t like it, so she grunted.
“There she is,” said an unfamiliar voice.
She wet her lips with a gluey tongue to answer, but decided talking would take too much energy.
“Kaye, can you drink some water?”
Hands lifted her into a sitting position. She begrudgingly opened her eyes. There was Jack Bastian, frowning as usual, and a strange-looking man—angel, if his perfectness spoke true, but with gray veins and an animalistic kind of intensity.
Bastian nudged her mouth with a glass, and just in case he tried to pour water down her throat himself, she took it from his grasp. Sipped.
“You’ve been out for almost three days,” Bastian said.
She recalled the wraiths, the fight, her river of fire, and the overwhelming weakness that followed.
“I was tired,” she answered. Still was. If they’d just leave her alone ...
The other angel chuckled. “We’ve been steeping you in Shadow. You were completely spent, but we finally got some color back in your skin.” The strange angel slid his gaze over to Bastian, then back to Kaye. “He was very worried you’d never wake.”
Bastian’s expression hardened.
The other man’s face grew more mobile as he grinned hugely. “And he thinks you’re pretty.”
They had to be doing the angel mind-reading thing. Thanks to Shadow, her mind was her own. How did the angels stand it? And she already knew Bastian thought she was pretty, just like she knew he thought she was pampered, weak, and self-indulgent. So what? Maybe she was.
A muscle twitched in Bastian’s cheek. “This is Custo Santovari, part angel, part fae. He opened a way to the Shadowlands and filled the room with its darkness. He brought you back.”
That made her sit up straighter. The Shadowlands, or Twilight, was a legendary place among the mages. But the description of Santovari was even more surprising, “A fae who’s an angel?”
“Not quite,” Custo said. “I’m an angel first, with a fae trapped within me. I can’t ever shutter my light, like Jack here, or the beast will take over. I’m more like a cousin to you mages.”
Unbelievable. This man, this angel, had Shadow magic coursing through his veins. Weren’t the angels bent on casting magic out of the world? “The angels don’t kill you?”
“Oh, we want to,” Bastian said. “Believe me, we want to. I’d do it myself with pleasure.”
Custo ignored Bastian and furrowed his brow in concern at Kaye. “Don’t get so close to the edge again. Burn your Shadow out, and you will die.”
Kaye felt like she’d come close. Custo’s tone made it sound as if he was leaving, but there was so much she wanted to know. She had so many questions.
“Do you have to go?”
Custo nodded. “It’s not wise to have an unrepressed angelic light in this house. The mages will discover it and wonder.”
The mages would know her for a traitor. Yes, he had to go, and right away. “Thanks for ... everything.” She wet her lips—still so dry. “And when you have time ... if it’s okay, I mean ... I’d like to talk to you about Shadow and about the fae.”
She had only what her father had told her to go on. He’d said angels would murder her if they got close—and she’d come into contact with two, and both of them had done the exact opposite. And now here was Custo, someone who was of Shadow and Order. It made no sense, and if she was going to do this mage thing, she needed answers.
“Absolutely,” Custo said. “I’d like to learn something about magekind.”
And then he shocked her breathless when Shadow pulsed and converged around him, as if summoned, and he stepped out of the world and into a realm of color and music that made all of her ache. Heart thudding, Kaye dropped the glass of water, drenching her lap, and reached after the velvety darkness, her core vibrating with longing. But as soon as the glimpse of Twilight appeared, it was gone.
She was left with a gnawing emptiness within.
“Don’t worry,” Bastian said. “It’s always there, on the other side of the veil. Doesn’t help when he keeps going in and out, though, and letting more Shadow into the world.”
Kaye turned, furious and helpless at the same time. Tears welled and blurred her vision. “You couldn’t possibly understand.” It was Shadow, the
source,
it was the stuff in her blood, yet she could never, ever cross into it herself because she had no soul.
source,
it was the stuff in her blood, yet she could never, ever cross into it herself because she had no soul.
“I’m sure I couldn’t,” Bastian said, that all too familiar clip back in his tone. There had been a moment—had she dreamed it?—when he’d spoken to her differently. Like they’d finally reached an accord. She guessed she was wrong.
He turned and picked up something. “While you were out, this was delivered.”
He held out a crisp, square envelope, an invitation. Kaye’s name was scrawled in black, by a masculine hand. The seal on the envelope was broken, Bastian’s work no doubt. She pulled out a white linen card, the words hand-lettered in careful, modern calligraphy.
Ferrol Bartholomew Grey
invites you to a formal reception
honoring the triumphant return of
honoring the triumphant return of
Kaye Ilona Brand
January 12, 8:00 pm
Grey House
Shadow only
“He’s throwing you a party,” Bastian said. “It’s unfortunate that you’re too ill to attend.”
Kaye stared at the invitation. The dark lettering grew starker as she contemplated its meaning. Ferro Grey was throwing her a party. That had to mean that her show of fire had met with his approval. And now he was presenting her to magekind.
He was both her tormenter and her sponsor, but that was mage life for you.
“Oh, I’m going,” Kaye answered, though the prospect sent terror screaming through her.
“You can’t even get out of bed.” Bastian rose from a chair at her bedside and paced the length of the room. “Count the days, and you’ll figure out that the event is tomorrow and you’re still as weak as a baby.” He stopped and faced her, expression furious. “And you look like hell.”
The man actually seemed worried.
“There’s no choice here,” she said. Bastian had to see that. “He’s throwing the damn party in
my
honor. It would be an unforgivable insult not to attend.” She pushed the wet bedsheet away and found herself in a T-shirt, not hers, and underwear. Fantastic. “The repercussions would be terrible.”
my
honor. It would be an unforgivable insult not to attend.” She pushed the wet bedsheet away and found herself in a T-shirt, not hers, and underwear. Fantastic. “The repercussions would be terrible.”
Bastian leaned forward and grabbed the card out of Kaye’s hand. “Look here.” He pointed to a line on the card. “Right here. It says, Shadow only. Which means I cannot accompany you.”
“I wouldn’t want to take you anyway,” she mumbled, trying a little weight on her legs. “I thought we already covered that.” The shift to standing made her heart pound like a drum.
But Bastian was at her side, his arm under her shoulders. Solid. He smelled of sweat, as if he hadn’t showered in days, but still, disturbingly, good. “He sent ten wraiths to test you. I’m not letting you anywhere near magekind, especially not when you’re this weak.”
“Bathroom, please,” Kaye said, taking a first step. “I have a whole day to rest, but I
am
going. This is the opportunity you wanted for me to join Grey’s circle, to gain his trust.” She tried for humor, patting his hand when they reached the bathroom door. “You can come next time.”
am
going. This is the opportunity you wanted for me to join Grey’s circle, to gain his trust.” She tried for humor, patting his hand when they reached the bathroom door. “You can come next time.”
His body filled the door frame behind her, which he gripped as if he could hold his ground in the argument by remaining steadfastly at the threshold of the bathroom. His angel’s light was still missing, but the glower of his frustration was just as intense.
She must have really scared him.
“Of course I’ll need something to wear,” she said to distract them both. And there was little time to have anything altered to fit. Shoes too. And jewelry.
“You don’t have the energy to shop,” he returned, biting.
Her heart had kicked up again, making her breathless, so she leaned nonchalantly against the counter. It was either lean or pass out, which wouldn’t help her cause. She had the sense to lift a feminine smile. “I
always
have energy to shop.”
always
have energy to shop.”
His expression went mean. “What about fire?” He stepped inside, too close for comfort, and looked down at her like a bully, or a lover. “Show me a little Shadowfire to prove you can handle yourself.”
She stuck up her chin, met his glare. “I’m pretty sure I’ve already proven myself. Or do I need to demonstrate one more time?”
Tension hung in the air. Bastian’s jaw finally twitched and he stepped back. “You’d probably spend yourself again, and that wouldn’t do anyone any good.”
No, it wouldn’t.
His gaze bored into her, and she knew the argument was far from over.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” Kaye said. When he didn’t move, she added, “If you please?”
“God damn it.” His ferocity made her drop her smile. The man was angrier than she’d ever seen him. Maybe it was better not to push just now.
Bastian turned and closed the bathroom door with chilling control, but his question remained. Kaye lifted her hand, palm up. She closed her eyes and searched for a spark within, sought a little heat in her blood, that dark twist of ecstasy, and pushed.
Nothing.
She tried again for Shadow, harder this time, made the room tilt and stars prick into her vision.
But still, nothing.
Panting for breath, Kaye dropped her hand to the counter and wracked her brain for what to do. It was as if she was fifteen all over again, and at a total loss. Bastian’s opinion was clear.
She shook her head. No, that was not an option.
She had to attend, or she’d incur Ferro Grey’s wrath. For all that he’d seemed so friendly at the coffeehouse, the mage had still sent ten wraiths for her to prove her mettle. Shadow bred ruthlessness.
Right.
There was really no choice, not unless she wanted to run away. Or hide among those self-righteous angels, a fate worse than death.
Her mind reached back to the suffocating press of power among the gathering of mages, the other ceremonies she’d attended as a child. The seduction of the darkness, the cruel illusions cast to trick and test and torment. She was a grown woman now.
She would attend her party, with fire, or without.
Chapter 5
Ferro descended the great hall’s sweeping staircase while surveying the space below. Decorations were in place—candles and sconces everywhere, as yet unlit. Shadow roiled on the floor and gathered in the corners, whispering. At the turn, he caught sight of Alistair Verity, ankle deep in magic. Alistair was frowning into his jowls like a bulldog, his head thrust forward as if he were already refusing. The collar of his tuxedo shirt must have been strangling him.
Ferro checked the clasps of his cuff links; he’d dressed for the formal reception quickly. But no, he was ready, just nervous, a welcome jittery feeling in his belly. A little excitement for once.
Kaye.
Kaye.
“You summoned me?” Alistair growled.
Alistair Verity didn’t have the luxury of refusing. Ferro had a need; Alistair would meet it. And so it would be until Alistair’s son took head of House, at which time Ferro would come to terms with him too. How else did they think they got the Florida Panhandle? And how did they think to keep it? The arrangement was very reasonable.
Ferro came to the landing and approached, his hand out to seal the bargain.
Alistair got red in the face. “You’ll leave me defenseless.”
“That’s not true.” Ferro pulled back his hand, soured. “I am your defense.”
“Too much and you’ll kill me.”
“I’m careful.”
Alistair spoke through gritted teeth. “You’re a vampire.”
Ferro went as cold as his House iron. He’d been called many things behind his back, all foul, but this—he breathed through his sudden anger—this he was going to like. If only he had that one vampire characteristic that eluded him. He’d regained his youth, yes, but immortality still escaped him. Vampire. There were worse names; he could own this one.
Besides, these days everyone loved vampires. Especially old ones wrapped in young bodies.
“That’s why we’re such good friends, Alistair,” Ferro said, the rest of his ire evaporating. “You’re all about the truth, while the rest of us stick to the Shadows.”
It was a House Verity trait.
“This is against my will.” Alistair Verity did not, could not, deceive.
“You’ll of course be excused from the party tonight.” Ferro made a beckoning gesture to hurry things along. “Your hand? Or would you like a fresh spot?”
He had to know if Kaye’s intentions, however ambitious, were true.
Alistair’s hand came up, an old circular scar at the center of his palm. Ferro moved quickly; she’d be here soon. He touched the Shadow setting in his iron ring on the spot and closed his eyes to conceal the eye-flickering rapture of Verity Shadow entering his being. Did it make him bisexual to enjoy Alistair so?
Bisexual was popular too.
Ferro opened his eyes, his gaze inadvertently on the man’s jowls. No.
Alistair fell, gasping, to one knee, his hand smearing the floor with a streak of blood as he tried to catch himself from falling all the way. His resting position was not unlike the deep bow of a knight before his liege. Their relationship was not much different.
“Sir Verity?”
Alistair drew a shuddering breath. He seemed beyond humor just now.
“Do you want help leaving?”
“I want to kill you,” he said.
A bright echo, like harmonics climbing a major scale, sounded within Alistair’s words, and Ferro knew—
knew
—that what he said was true.
knew
—that what he said was true.
That was the power of Verity Shadow.
When the Bentley pulled up to the receiving portico at Grey House, Jack immediately slid out of the car. Though he’d accompanied Kaye in the backseat, rather than driving, they hadn’t spoken since they’d left the house. She sat like a queen in her deep red slip of a dress and dark wrap, her gaze hard, jaw set, though her complexion lacked its customary warmth.
An attendant in Grey livery reached to assist Kaye, but Jack raised a
stay back
hand. No one would touch Kaye while he was present. And since he couldn’t enter the main house—
Shadow only
—he intended to at least deliver her to the front door.
stay back
hand. No one would touch Kaye while he was present. And since he couldn’t enter the main house—
Shadow only
—he intended to at least deliver her to the front door.
He turned back to the car to find Kaye rising gracefully into the night. He’d have preferred to help her, but as always, she didn’t need anyone. She adjusted her wrap so that her upper arms were covered, but not her bare shoulders or neck. Her hair was swept up, her scars on display, which reminded Jack of the last time a party had been held in Kaye’s honor, and how perilous that had been.
“Deep breaths,” he said. He’d already given her instructions for the evening. Attaching names to faces, who spoke with whom, general dynamics of the group.
“I got it,” Kaye murmured.
Why was he returning her to a world of danger and treachery? His mind fought with the question. His spirit rebelled too, straining against his control. But underneath the personal melee, he knew the answer—to discover the role of magekind in the wraiths’ reorganization. Danger on the streets, power consolidating. If not Kaye, then who could discover what was going on?
She walked a step ahead of him, up the stone walkway toward the main door. The path was lit by fat, white candles, and their flames stretched at Kaye’s approach. The sight made the tension collected in Jack’s chest even more acute. The Shadowfire welcomed her. It leaped at her approach, a mage coming home. And the only solace he could take was that her power was returning. She would not be completely unarmed.
The arched double doors to the main house’s entrance opened, though Jack and Kaye had several yards to go. Quiet within, but it was early yet. Ferro Grey himself came to stand in the doorway to await his companion for the evening. He wore a smart, trim tuxedo and a smile of anticipation. When Grey reached out
his
hand, Kaye answered with a reach of her own—pale, gorgeous skin, a band of diamonds at her wrist. They clasped, and Grey drew her to his side, twining her arm in his.
his
hand, Kaye answered with a reach of her own—pale, gorgeous skin, a band of diamonds at her wrist. They clasped, and Grey drew her to his side, twining her arm in his.
“You’re breathtaking,” he said.
Jack hated him.
“You’re dashing,” she answered.
Jack hated her too, until she glanced over her shoulder in farewell. Her face gleamed with its polish, but in her black eyes lurked terror.
“I’ll be waiting,” Jack said. He kept the words short, useful, but hoped with everything he was that she understood he would be near, straining for any indication of trouble. Nevertheless, the Grey House wards would prevent him from entering. She was all alone.
She arched a brow and replied with seductive mirth. “It’ll be a long night.”
Ferro Grey laughed as the doors were shut in Jack’s face. And all Jack knew was that a bright light, not so different from a soul, had been swallowed by Shadow.
He knew on every level of his being that her presence in Grey House was wrong, the kind of wrong he’d dedicated his existence to fighting.
And he knew that he’d been the one to put her up to it.
Kaye stood at Ferro’s side in the massive foyer of Grey House to welcome guests as they arrived for her reintroduction party, each mage in elaborate evening finery. French doors were open to both sides of them. The chatter of early party conversation was just rising, a girl with a low-key band crooning a jazzy version of that pop hit about Shadow. Deeper still into the foyer, another set of doors. More talk. A staircase swept up from the right. And if she went very still and listened very closely, she could hear the maddening undersigh of Shadow whispers.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Kaye said, clasping hands with yet another guest. This one was furtive and nervous, barely meeting her gaze. His head was bowed, shoulders hunched when he took Ferro Grey’s hand.
Ferro said only, “Arman,” like a reminder, although whatever business they had, it seemed to her that Arman remembered just fine on his own.
Kaye didn’t want to know the particulars.
And yet, the jagged edge of the interaction was familiar. Everything was familiar. The party raised the sensory specter of her childhood: Candles covered the marble foyer tables, their flames flickering in a bouquet of fire. Tall floor sconces flanked the doorways, fire dancing there too. Those flames nearest to her brightened and stretched in response to her proximity, the shadows moving as if alive, layered and elemental.
In the open rooms beyond, the shifting glowlight promised more fire. Ferro was honoring her with her element everywhere. All this for her. What did he want?
She didn’t have time to figure it out, not as the guests approached to greet her. Some faces she recognized, but it took Ferro’s gentle, sometimes humorous, reminding to put a name to them. “Reynold Heist,” he said. Then under his breath, “who cheats at cards.” Her laughter was feigned at first, but after a while, begrudgingly genuine. How strange, and typical of Shadow, that she should laugh with Ferro and fear him simultaneously.
His presence at her side required each attendee to stop, take her hand, smile, and wish her well, a courtesy she hadn’t expected. She knew that she and Ferro appeared to be a couple, which many remarked upon with a silent shift of their gazes, a question in the sly stretch of their smiles.
“Raiden Terrell and his son, Alex,” Ferro said as a man stepped up with a teenage boy who stared openly at her cleavage, his face reddening.
“I’m very happy to meet you,” Kaye said, remembering Raiden. “I think my father said you owed him money.”
He winked. “Or was it the other way around?”
The boy’s palm was a little damp.
And so it went on.
“Lorelei Blake,” Ferro said. His mouth thinned as he regarded the tall woman in blue satin. “Don’t touch her.”
Kaye didn’t take her outstretched hand, and the guest passed by, slighted.
“Why?” Kaye asked as she tracked her progress through the French doors and watched everyone curiously step out of the way.
“She’s a lure. Her touch will make you want to follow her,” he said. “Make you want to do as she says. One touch and her umbra will overtake yours.”
Ah. A chill swept Kaye’s skin. She’d been too long away from magekind and too sheltered when among them. And now she had to depend on Ferro Grey, of all people, for safety. The realization made her very uncomfortable. “Thank you for the warning.”
“But of course.” He turned to her, searching her gaze for something. He seemed earnest when he said, “I would never let anyone harm you.”
“You are very kind.” Kaye smiled warmly at him, thinking,
If he wanted me harmed, he’d see to it himself.
If he wanted me harmed, he’d see to it himself.
The great doors to the house closed, shutting out the night. The guests had all arrived, and either lurked in the doorways, watching Kaye, or added to the rising din of the party. And under it all, those incomprehensible whispers, slithering over her bare skin to find her ear, yet only speaking nonsense. It had been a long time since she’d heard them, these almost imaginary friends of her childhood.
“I think we’re done here.” Ferro opened one arm toward one of the larger rooms; his other arm fitted low on her waist. “Let’s get you a drink.”
“That would be lovely.” Though there was no way Kaye would be drinking anything. It was one thing to dull the edges on her own, and another to be careless around magekind, taking drinks from people who did not wish her well. She’d learned her lesson in Vegas.
Ferro led her to the first of the French doors, which opened to an enormous room. The ceiling was made of clear glass panes, so that starlight looked down on them. And tall candle pedestals stood throughout the space, waist level, so that no one could mistake the fire for mere lighting. Ferro was making a point, but to whom? The guests, who had to navigate the flames? Or to her, but why?
Kaye’s nerve faltered when she saw the beverage of the night: Black Moll. The high alcohol content would spin any room, but its use was usually reserved for ceremonial functions. Only a drop had ever touched her tongue, when she was ten and Brand House had sworn fealty to Grey. She wasn’t about to swear anything tonight.
She took a crystal goblet of the stuff, wondering what its purpose was here. More importantly, how could she get rid of it without drinking?
“So let’s see some of that fire!” a woman called.
Kaye turned toward the voice, her heart leaping. Party talk lowered as her gaze swept the faces of those nearest to find the source. Beyond, the singer didn’t miss a note, swaying on a raised dais before the band. A nearby group of people shuffled out of the way, looking over their shoulders for gossip.
“I want fire!” the woman all but shouted.
There. The woman wore a black evening gown with a concealed corset, its boning pushing up her blue-veined breasts. Black hair, black eyes. She obviously hadn’t figured out that there was such a thing as too much black. Her mouth had the lines of someone who was disappointed all the time.
A goblet full of Moll and a challenge for fire—the moment couldn’t be worse.
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