Mad for Love: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 2 (29 page)

“They must have their reward,” he said, grabbing both Aurelia’s hands and spinning around and around with her until she had to close her eyes against the dizziness.

But the mood had its effect on her too. Sharing Blaize’s heat, his burning godhead, she could scarcely avoid it. A savage joy filled her, making her laugh in turn, almost forgetting the purpose of this bacchanale, the first true one that London had seen.

Not the first frenzied mob, though. Mobs could be angry, wild or celebratory. This was a mixture of all three. People joined the tail, handed around bottles of wine or beer. Aurelia grabbed some, heedless of the mouths that had touched the neck of the bottle before, but Blaize snatched it from her and passed it on.

“You shall have your own,” he promised, and she did. He obtained a bottle, still sealed, and uncorked it for her. She kept hold of it and drank long. She’d never drunk like this before, but she felt strangely safe in the middle of the mob. As she’d said, the best place to be was the eye of the storm.

Although they were jostled occasionally, nobody pestered them. They whooped and whirled about Blaize and Aurelia. By now a few people had found some torches, and they held them high, the golden flares sending out signals to the night sky. More joined, so the number was more like eighty by the time they reached the top of Whitehall and passed St. James’s Palace. Not a reception night, so relatively quiet. Or perhaps Blaize and Aurelia could have entered in state and taken the thrones.

With their attendants, the bacchantes and the cats.

Exhilaration filled her when they passed the grand houses on the Strand. Most of the aristocracy had moved out a century ago, and the places were given up to more nefarious pursuits. At the moment they were mostly barring their doors and shivering behind them, if she was any judge. Word must have got around because the thoroughfare was strangely silent. They’d escaped Whitehall because they moved fast, but opposition would be growing. They’d have to hurry if they were to reach the theatre intact.

But at the moment, the celebration was at its height. More alcohol went around and Aurelia passed her half-empty bottle to someone else—she’d had enough. Blaize didn’t take it. Instead, his power grew. She felt it, the way it expanded and filled the space around them. The godhead. The part of him that had entered while he’d been a babe in the womb, the part he kept locked away for the most part. What a waste!

He glanced at her and she smiled at him, not hesitating, even though his wildness all but swamped any semblance of civilisation he’d retained. He seemed tireless, joyful. Terrifyingly amoral in the true sense of the word, because here morals had no place. Good and bad had no meaning, except for the quality of the wine.

She was losing her sense of right and wrong, or the edges of her firm world were blurring. Torches flared past her face and she laughed, leaned into them for the dare, because so what if they burned her? She’d heal soon enough. Blaize had grown a tooth back, for heaven’s sake!

But he dragged her back. “No pain, not for you.”

Oh yes, she’d forgotten about pain.

By now they’d nearly reached their destination and the yells and screams had become a roar. Fear touched her for a moment, then left without her having to dismiss it. Because they were close.

People were emerging from the Theatre Royal at Drury Lane. Word had obviously reached it and they were bolting for their homes. Or a safe place. Most of the establishments they passed were barred. Unusual for a part of London that was packed with whorehouses, shops and clubs. The mob rampaged through the narrow streets skirting Covent Garden.

“If we take them through the piazza, we’ll lose them,” he remarked, sounding saner than she felt, but the next moment he was laughing again, grabbing her hand and running, the animals racing by their side.

Without hesitation, Blaize forced his way into the theatre. It was barred and people stood in the lobby, trying to get away. They’d left it too late, but this was an angry mob. Aurelia had been there before, sweet and virginal, sitting with the elite. Part of a mob now, dressed so badly, filthy, she felt like the most important person there. The queen.

Balance, that was it. She’d moved to the other side of the seesaw. “She’s here,” she said.

Her mother’s presence filled her strongly. Not a threat to her in this state, Aurelia anticipated confronting her parent with delight. Showing her she didn’t care.

While the mob was here, creating a noisy, rowdy presence, d’Argento was working somewhere else. If they couldn’t make Themis reveal Lyndhurst’s whereabouts, Massimo would work in the shade, discovering, uncovering.

An orgy of emotion like this would release more than the recipient intended. This was where Blaize’s talent came to the fore. On the parade here he’d fed off the increasing frenzy of his followers, taken everything they’d released for himself. Now he had the power he needed to force an answer and deal with the dowager, whatever guise she was taking.

The dowager stood on the stage, actors in full costume standing at the sides, like her followers. Panic filled the atmosphere. Without hesitation, Blaize took it and replaced it with budding joy. It was up to the actors to bring it to fruition, if they wanted to.

The duchess’s voice filled the space. “I am here. You can’t defeat me this way.”

“I have no desire to defeat you. I’ve come for your life.”

Ensuring Aurelia was still by his side, Blaize spread his hands, felt the power he’d taken. Nobody could stop him in this state. Nobody. Especially not this woman whose power lay in order and rational thought. “I am the person you fear. The one you can’t defeat.”

“You don’t believe that, surely.”

When she sent a spear of clear, white light, he defeated it with a jagged slash of pure fire. He didn’t reply to her sneer. More darts followed, and he fended them easily, although at least two were killing shots. She couldn’t touch him now.

“Where is Lyndhurst?”

“Him?” The corner of her mouth kicked up. “Dead.”

“No, he’s not.” Blaize would have known if Mars had passed to a new host. “He’s alive.” But weak, he felt that too. “Release him and I might release you.”

With lavish abandon, he tossed a net into the air, fashioning the golden mass into a web of fine threads, each one stronger than the thickest rope. Everyone raised their heads, watching the glittering, showy net as it drifted down.

In the meantime he sent something more lethal. A single rope in shining silver to lash around her waist and draw her close. “Do you believe me now, old woman?”

She cried in fury, because he’d snared her with something she couldn’t fight. He’d done his research. Without looking, he pushed his hand into the air. The net dissipated, but he let it drift down in a series of twinkling gold flakes. His followers cried in delight, fighting to catch the pieces. The extra emotion fuelled his resolve.

He’d snared her with the truth, one that shone past her attributes. This was the result of the frenzy he’d evoked and he’d spent his time fashioning it so there was no escape. The real, honest truth knew no rationalisation, and however men tried to snare it, it would burst out at the most inconvenient times. He used it now, as ruthlessly as he knew.

By his side he sensed an island of stillness as Aurelia watched. But he had to do this. When he broke her, they’d know what they had. How much their love depended on the thrall her mother had put her into, and if Blaize’s devotion to her owned anything to the net she threw around men she drew to their destruction.

The lash of truth glowed, strengthened, tightened around the dowager, curling around her body, the tip swirling up toward her mouth.

“My house!” she cried, vomiting the words. “In Seven Dials!” One of the most disreputable rookeries in London, a place the authorities never ventured. It belonged to thieves and ruffians; murderers lived there.

With swift efficiency, he relayed the information to d’Argento, who waited close by but out of the mayhem. In Seven Dials, any aura of misery would be hidden, because it was a miserable place. “Where?”

He caught the flash of the image from the dowager. A tumbledown house close to the junction of seven streets that gave the district its name. Close enough for d’Argento to keep in touch mind-to-mind.

He’d had enough. The woman before him was poison. As she regarded his disgusted expression, her face broke into a broad smile. “I know this much. I trapped you. I had you. You will only love my daughter as long as I’m alive. The spell is connected to me.”

He saw it now. This woman had caused the deaths of at least twenty men. He hid the knowledge from his wife and hated the necessity, but he wouldn’t allow her mother to do that to Aurelia. Even if he lost her in the process, he had to stop what she was doing.

With ruthless efficiency, he took what she was. Reached in and stirred her brain, whirled her thoughts. She’d never recover from this. He couldn’t trap her inside her body, as he’d done to others, but he didn’t want to release Themis to wreak havoc on the next generation.

Rather than that, he’d take the woman, remove the essence of the person so that only a husk remained.

The work was intricate, and he concentrated on her and nothing else. She fought him at every turn, a tiger when cornered. But as he worked he saw no compassion, no care for anyone else. She’d looked after her daughter because she was useful to her, her son because he was an immortal and she wanted to turn him to her cause. That she’d failed spoke to Kentmere’s integrity.

The deep dark recesses of her mind made Blaize want to return to the relative cleanness of Bedlam. Her wants, her needs, her desires. Strongly tempted to kill her, he resisted.

A movement by his side, an absence made him stretch out his arm and feel for Aurelia. Immediately she returned and nestled against him.

“Kill her,” she whispered.

Then he realised he hadn’t blocked her at all. She was so much a part of him that she’d seen what he’d seen. She would surely hate him now. But he wouldn’t kill the dowager. Instead, the whip holding her steady, he forced truth into every part of her body and mind, so she couldn’t escape it. She’d spend every day for the rest of her life facing the truth of her actions, reliving it in the cold light of honesty. That alone would drive her mad.

Because Aurelia was with him, he made fast work of it, but took care to leave nothing behind that he would regret. No spark of the woman that had been the Duchess of Kentmere.

In the end, he withdrew. If not for the revelry going on around him, he’d have collapsed, but he drew enough strength to stand upright and face his foe before he let his whip sink deep into the dowager’s heart and soul, absorbed by her.

She stared at him blankly, unseeing, because he’d forced blindness on her, the better for her to face her internal demons. “This is worse,” he said, thin-lipped. “I should kill her in truth.”

But he could not kill the woman who had borne the woman Blaize was privileged to call his wife.

While he hesitated, the first time his resolve had weakened, d’Argento raised his hand. Calmly, he released a river of silver liquid, the mercury that belonged to him, deadly and beautiful. It hit the dowager and as if she couldn’t help herself she opened her mouth and let it in.

“She is no kin to me,” d’Argento said.

The duchess collapsed, crumpling to the floor.

Blaize turned his back on the woman who was no threat now. “Let’s go home.”

Time to face his own demons.

Chapter Fifteen

The mob continued rampaging around all the premises foolish enough to leave their windows and doors unbarred. They stormed a brewery until beer ran down the streets and people lay head down, drinking out of the gutter.

After ensuring the big cats came to no harm, Blaize took Aurelia back to their house, telling the servants that their appearance was because they’d been caught in the whirlwind. The mob didn’t venture into the West End and Mayfair. Instead it concentrated on the City and the area around the Tower and St. Paul’s.

Mobs had risen before, and this was a particularly energetic one.

D’Argento waited for them, Edmund by his side, and between them hung the limp, but alive, body of Lyndhurst.

“He needs rest,” d’Argento said. “Let him sleep the clock around and he’ll be fine. She hurt him, but his wounds will heal quickly.”

They helped Lyndhurst, more unconscious than otherwise, up the stairs.

Ignoring the sighs of the servants, Blaize ordered baths brought up to their bedrooms.

Aurelia went to him, her hair still damp from her bath, a robe wrapped around her naked body. When she saw the empty bottle on the bedside table, she breathed a sigh of relief. Even more when she noted the decanter was half-empty. The servants were too good to leave a half-full decanter in their master’s room. As she went in, he was lifting a glass of ruby liquid to his lips. His eyes were normal again, no longer sparking that ethereal light that drew her so effectively.

He finished his drink and put it down on the table, watching her warily. “Do you want to come to me? Or will you sleep in your own bed tonight?”

She spared the richly canopied bed a glance. The sheets were already turned down. “I thought this was my own bed.”

His smile was thin, but he must be exhausted. “I’m myself again.”

“I just want to sleep.”

“With a monster?”

She advanced, hands outstretched. “You were no monster. You were you—but more so, in a way. I want to see that again.”

He barked a harsh laugh. “I thought you’d run in fear. We should ensure everything is well before we retire. Come.”

When he held out his hand, she went to him, as she always did. They went to the guest room Blaize had given to Kentmere. He lay on the white sheets, his dark face at rest. D’Argento glanced around as they entered. He was in his shirtsleeves, which he’d rolled up. Mercury was a physician, she recalled. Nobody better to care for Lyndhurst, the man she liked but did not love. “I brought him straight here. He will be fine, now that she’s gone. The thrall is broken.”

“I locked her inside herself,” Blaize said. “She had to face her own sins before she died”

Edmund showed not the slightest remorse or sorrow, and nodded to Blaize. “You did what was necessary.”

“What next?” Aurelia asked.

“We continue to look for immortals.” D’Argento went to the bowl of clean water and rinsed his hands, then reached for a towel. He regarded the small group standing by the bed. “We’ll hunt for Themis, but it will be difficult. I have been thinking about that. It’s time immortals came to us. Lyndhurst searched in vain, and Kentmere found one immortal. We need a rallying point. I have bought a property in St. James’s, close to White’s Club. I intend to start a club of my own.” London abounded with clubs, the members of which discussed anything from poetry to beefsteak. Sometimes at the same time. “I will call it the Pantheon Club and it will be for immortals only. There we can be ourselves, and others can find us. They’ll know what we are.”

“How can you ensure that?” Edmund asked.

“A simple blood test. There are worse initiation ceremonies. A drop of blood is relatively straightforward.” D’Argento shrugged. “The club will give us a place to meet and discuss strategy, but mostly a place for immortals to come. People who know they’re different, but not why. I will have to allow a few chosen mortals in to fill the rooms and to employ the staff, but not many. And the upstairs part of the club is immortals only. I can even make a joke of it.”

Blaize was gazing at d’Argento in outright admiration. “Brilliant. You surpass yourself.”

D’Argento shook his head. “No, my friend, you did that.” His soft voice held no trace of the Italian accent he used in public, and often in private too. “Tonight you were magnificent. You did everything you needed to, and with your queen by your side. Now we know her part.”

“We do indeed. She kept me to my purpose and stopped me going entirely mad.” Turning to her, he smiled, and she could almost believe he still loved her. “I could have wreaked far more violence than I did. When I cast off the shackles in that way, there are no limits. I can lose myself for days. Weeks. The frenzy becomes an end in itself.”

She tried to understand how this sensitive, endlessly tender man could turn into the wild one she’d seen tonight. All she knew was that she loved them both. “I’m glad I can do something.”

He spoke to her directly, ignoring everyone else. “You did it all. You don’t hate me now, for what I did?”

Wordlessly, she shook her head. Then said the only thing she could think of. “You’re tired.”

“I am indeed.” Fatigue beat at him, and because she was still linked to him, it hit her too. Her feet ached from the long walk and the dancing, and her eyes grew heavier.

“Come.”

With a nod and a smile, they left the room and went to Blaize’s.

“Are you certain you wouldn’t like to sleep alone? I fear I’m too tired to pleasure you tonight,” he said, once they’d slipped inside.

“You pleasure me whatever you do,” she pointed out. “I want to sleep with you.”

He nodded. “Very well. We’ll need to talk in the morning.”

He sounded distant. Aurelia prayed it was because of his work tonight and his exhaustion, and not because of what her mother had said. Oh, she’d thought of it, how could she not? But because she reciprocated his love, she’d imagined it was real, that their love existed outside the dowager’s baleful influence. Now she wasn’t so sure. Blaize wouldn’t admit to her if he’d fallen out of love with her, if all he’d felt for her was the result of an enchantment, one that was broken with her mother.

They slept the clock around, so they didn’t wake until noon the next day. She woke to the tinkling of the clock on the mantelpiece chiming the hour and counted all twelve before she opened her eyes. Her husband was leaning on one elbow, gazing down at her, smiling. When she opened her eyes, he kissed her. Her heart breaking, she returned the kiss that felt more like a benediction than one of passion.

He drew away. “You were majestic, my love. A true queen.”

“Thank you. You see why I had to be there?”

“Yes, though I hated that you did. You saw most of the ugliness. I shielded you.”

“I’m too deep for that.” She considered. “At least, I was. Blaize, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“That you had to marry me.” He shouldn’t have done it. Perhaps she’d have been better with Lyndhurst after all. At least he’d never loved her, not truly, and she hadn’t reciprocated, so their falling out of love wouldn’t have been so heartbreaking.

“I didn’t. Lyndhurst could have, but I wanted you far too badly to let anyone else have you.” He brushed a lock of hair off her cheek so carefully she hardly felt it. “I still do.”

When he would have leaned in for another kiss, she placed her palm on his chest, holding him off. “Blaize, you don’t have to. You gave my mother the truth last night. I want that for us too. However brutal it is.” What she’d seen in her mother’s black heart would take her some time to get used to, but knowing it was the truth would make it easier.

“Why should it be brutal? I love you, Aurelia. You think I don’t know my own mind? Me?”

“But she’s gone,” she protested. “I’m not enchanted anymore.”

“Enchanted perhaps not, but you’re still enchanting. I saw you and I wanted you. Remember what you told me?” He made no effort to move away, but gazed deep into her eyes. “You’re my Ariadne. That’s stronger than any witch’s spells.”

“It was her, wasn’t it?”

“Mostly. Although if she was using potions, that might be someone else. We’ll investigate. In time. But not today, not now. How do I convince you that I love you? That I will never, ever regret marrying you?” He glanced down. “You have your hand on my heart. It’s yours, darling. Every bit of it. What we have was no spell. It never was. I see through fallacy and confusion. You’ve seen that for yourself. That spell never affected me.”

Wonderingly, she ventured to broach his mind, just to skim it, to see if he was telling the truth. She saw no deception there, neither self-induced nor by someone else. What she saw was deep and heartfelt. And yes, it was love.

“I was afraid because I loved you back. I didn’t love any of the others. Only cared for some of them a little. I’ve never fallen in love before.”

“I never will again.” Carefully he laid his hand just below her left breast, where her heart pumped. “Feel that. They beat together.”

He was right. Their hearts throbbed in harmony, deep, pulsing and real. As was their love.