Night Season (21 page)

It landed across her left calf. She jerked her leg out, panting.

Cullen-wolf stood over the one he'd just dispatched. His fur was heavily spattered with blood. It dripped from his muzzle. His lips were pulled back, baring his teeth, and a deep growl rumbled up from his chest.

There was no one left to kill.

Not all of the lumps Cynna saw on the deck belonged to slug-men. Two guards were down. As she watched, Steve Timms leaped over one of those motionless forms, racing toward her. Tash stood about thirty feet away, a bow in her hand. She was barking out orders that the remaining guard scrambled to obey—
Get leather to protect your hand, fool
, whispered Cynna's charm.
Get those bodies overboard—fetch ash and salt
—
see what the hell happened to the tritons
.

Cynna wasn't listening. The huge wolf shook his head once, looked right at her, and his tongue lolled out in a doggy grin. Then he collapsed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Floating … thoughts breaking up, shutting down, sliding off into gray…

I've got you.

Huh?

"… don't touch him!"

"Where's the ash, dammit?"

Something splashed.

"Cullen? Oh, God… No! You can't have him!" That was Cynna's voice. He knew it, clung to it, through the haze dimming his mind. "Let go, or I'll—"

"Don't touch him." He knew that voice, too… Tash. "He's got the poison on Mm."

"My coat's leather. It will protect me."

Was Cynna touching him? Why couldn't he feel it?

Another splash. Funny. He could hear things going on but couldn't see anything, couldn't feel…

A sigh. "You can't help him, girl. He's gone."

"No! He can't be." Cynna again, stubbornness personified.

She was right, though. He wasn't gone. He couldn't move, couldn't see or smell. He had no sense of his body whatsoever. None. He didn't understand what he was, but he wasn't gone.

Tash's voice, very gentle: "His heart isn't beating."

Well, hell. That couldn't be good.

Footsteps, then: "I've got the salt and ash, but you're wasting it, using it on him."

Cullen didn't recognize the speaker, but the man had used the Common Tongue. He noted that with a quiet corner of his mind. The spell was still working even though, technically, he was dead.

Didn't feel dead. Where were the tunnel and the white light?

"Give it to me. Ash neutralizes the poison, right? I need to get it cleaned off—"

"It is too late, Cynna Weaver."

Tash was probably right. He wasn't astral traveling. He'd done that twice, and this was nothing like it. His astral form still saw and touched… well, it wasn't the same kind of touching he did with his body, but there was a similar sense. Not this… nothingness.

"He'll heal it," Cynna was saying stubbornly. "He can heal it. I just have to get the poison cleaned off."

"Healing doesn't work on poison," Tash said in that gentle voice. "Only with wounds. That's why the obab are so feared. Nothing stops their poison. It's a… I don't have your word, but it paralyzes everything. The lungs stop working, the heart stops beating."

"Lupi heal from poison. He can heal this. Dammit, Cullen!" Fury whipped her voice. "You
will
heal, you hear me?"

Doing my best.

Tash again. "It doesn't usually act this quickly. He must have swallowed some."

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart." Who was—oh, Daniel Weaver. "You have to accept that he's gone."

"No, but anyone who tries tipping him into the river will be. Steve, keep them back."

"Got you covered," That was Steve's voice. "No one touches the wolf."

"All right," Tash said, weary. "We'll leave him for last."

"Hail, Mary, full of grace," Cynna whispered. "Our Lord is with you…"

Cynna was praying for him? Couldn't hurt. Probably wouldn't help, but it couldn't hurt.

Another splash. Cullen knew what the sound meant now—dead obab being dumped over the rail into the river. Maybe some of their own dead, too. Couldn't be environmentally sound, but he was more concerned with Tash's intention of doing the same with his body. He wasn't finished with it. He just had to figure out how to get connected to it again.

"… for us sinners now and at the hour of our—our—oh, dammit, Lady! Bring him back! You can't have him! If you're real, if you want me as your priestess or whatever, bring him back!"

At once he was
all
sensation. Pain. A giant had him in his grip and was trying to make lemonade from his chest. His ribs shuddered with the effort to draw in a breath. Alive
hurt
.

"He's breathing! Look, he's breathing!"

Scents flooded Cullen. His other vision came back, too, but dimly. He was about empty. He forced his eyes open… oh, yeah. He was still wolf, which meant his vision was black-and-white. And that was Cynna, her face shiny-wet, scrubbing at his fur.

Damn fool woman! She was going to get the poison on her. He drew another breath, found the moon's song, and forced the Change.

And oh, shit, but that
really
hurt. Took way too long, too. Changing always hurt. Changing away from earth and right after a cardiac arrest… well, he'd survived. "Stop," he whispered.

"Stop?" She blinked damp eyes. "Stop what?"

Crying
, he nearly said. That would piss her off, knowing he'd seen her crying over him. His lips twitched at the thought.

"Why did you do that?" She was kneeling beside him, her coat gathered carefully around her to keep her from touching any of the slime the assassins had left behind. Good. She wasn't completely stupid. Fear and joy and anger vied for control of her face… such an expressive face. Those tattoos she hid behind had never concealed her from him. "Why did you Change? You can't afford to waste your power that way. You need it to heal."

"Got rid of the poison," Cullen pointed out in the whisper that was all he could manage. Whatever was on him—clothing, blood, poison—couldn't follow him through the Change.

"Oh. Right." Her breath shuddered out. "God, but you scared me."

Scared himself, too. His eyes were trying to close. Sleep sounded like a fantastic idea, but first… "Steve's here?"

"Yes. He held them off with his gun so they didn't… we thought you were dead. Your heart had stopped."

Tell me about it

. "Need to tell him something."

Hurt flashed across her face, but she motioned. A moment later Steve's face hovered over him. "Yeah, buddy?"

"They were after Cynna," he whispered. His eyes were trying to close. "Targeted hit."

"Don't worry," Steve said grimly. "I'm on it."

Okay. Good. He'd just rest his eyes for a bit…

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

A hand stroked the hair back from Kai's face. A warm hand, warm as the body propping her up… Nathan. She lay on the ground, her back against his front, her legs curled to one side. She heard one of the horses stamp, a tail swish.

The last time she checked in with her body, she'd been standing up.

"Are you all right?" he asked, voice low and worried.

Kai nodded. "That was… intense."

She didn't move or speak for a few moments. Nathan didn't, either. He must have had questions, plenty of them, but he was more patient than she was. Once assured she was back and okay, he relaxed, content to wait until she felt ready to talk.

"That's the longest I ever stayed in fugue," she said finally. "Not counting when I was little and got trapped there. This wasn't the same. I knew I could get out."

"What happened?" he asked softly. "Your warning worked. I could see that much."

She and Nathan had been ready to turn in. She was getting used to sleeping rough, though she had wistful thoughts of mattresses most nights. Their sleeping bags were excellent quality, but the ground did not remind her much of a bed. Something had alerted him, some sound or stray scent—he hadn't been sure what it was. He'd gone to the river's edge, staring out at the barge.

They'd gotten slightly ahead of it before stopping, knowing the barge would pull well ahead while they slept. Couldn't be helped, and they hoped to make up the time tomorrow. The river bent around some low, rocky hills up ahead; they'd be able to go straight and meet it around the bend. So the barge had still been upriver of them, but not by much.

He'd seen or sensed the assassins. So had Kai—but her seeing wasn't like his. Or anyone else's. She'd seen the shapes and colors of their thoughts. She was, she reflected, becoming too familiar with the way the intent to kill shaped thoughts.

She'd told Nathan she was going to warn the people on the barge, and she'd fugued.

And now she didn't want to tell him what she'd done. He hadn't freaked over her other abilities, but this… "I guess I'm freaked by myself. I did something I could have sworn wasn't possible."

He waited. Nathan wasn't one to use words unnecessarily.

"Those—what did you call them? Obab? They went for the woman. You were right about the sorcerer. He's a lupus. I guess you saw that?" She hadn't exactly seen it happen. Unlike Nathan, she didn't have super-duper night vision, and the glow from a single mage light at a distance wasn't enough for her to make out much. But she'd seen his thoughts change.

"They killed him," she said flatly. "Or as good as. I've seen animals die. I saw the dondredii die a few days ago. I know what it looks like—the way the thought bodies start to fade, to break up… I hated it! I couldn't just let him die, could I?"

Nathan was startled. "You had a choice?"

"He's lupus, so I thought… it seemed that if I could hold his thoughts together, keep him
there
a little longer, his magic would finish healing him." Now she twisted to look at him. "I didn't do it by myself."

"You asked me for power. I gave it to you."

That's what she'd thought—though she hadn't asked out loud. Her own well had emptied too quickly, before the lupus's body had finished purging itself of the poison.

She'd been deeply in fugue. She'd touched Nathan's thoughts with one of hers—just a touch, nothing that would stay topped in his thoughts and confuse or influence him. She'd asked, yes. And power had flooded into her.

Kai chewed on her lip. "You didn't know what I was doing. Shit, I didn't know what I was doing. I could have hurt you, taken too much—"

"I will always give you power if you ask. You wouldn't ask for evil reasons. For unwise ones, perhaps, but not evil."

"It was a lot of power."

Nathan smiled, the glint in his eyes pure amusement. Sometimes his sense of humor escaped her. "I have a lot of power, Kai. Better that you asked me than Dell. Her magic is strong, but shaped for her own use. And she doesn't replenish it as readily as I do mine."

It hadn't even occurred to her that she could draw from Dell, "I have so much to learn!"

"You are learning." He paused. "I'm glad the sorcerer lives. I think they may need him."

"You still think…"

"Oh, yes." He was certain as only one of his kind could be. "They are the ones my queen spoke of. They will find the medallion. Then, if necessary, we will take it from them."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The staterooms straddled the middle of the barge, with four on one side of the hall, three and a bathroom on the other side. Cynna followed the two guards who were carrying Cullen to her stateroom. She was chilly. Her coat and boots, contaminated by poison, were still on the deck. Her father had offered to scrub them with the salt and ash that neutralized the poison. He'd been upset, asking her over and over if she was okay, and seemed glad to have something to do to help.

One of the guard would show him how after their ceremony. They weren't as callous as it had seemed when they tipped their dead into the river. Not sentimental about bodies, obviously, but they mourned their dead.

Gan was right behind her. "I don't know why Tash is so mad. I checked out the tritons, didn't I? Even though it's very dangerous in the river, I did it."

After Tash threw her in. "You were brave. Did you catch any fishies while you were there?"

"Only one. And the tritons were dead, like I figured, so what was the point?"

The slug-men—obab, they were called—had taken out the tritons first. No one was sure how they'd pulled that off. Tritons meshed minds with their mounts, but were also able to sense life directly, making them hard to sneak up on. Somehow the obab had managed it, leaving the barge tethered to riderless sea oxen.

Cynna supposed they were lucky the obab hadn't killed the sea oxen, too. Huey—turned out he was the barge's captain—had sent one of the two remaining tritons to ride the sea ox in turn, keeping them calm while the barge was at anchor.

"The point," Cynna said, "was that the tritons' bodies had to be released from their harnesses. You're immune to the poison since you're not fully converted, so—"

"That's what they say." Gan glowered. "But they can lie."

"You think the gnomes lied about your immunity? You're not dead, so—hey, careful!" she snapped at the two guard neither human, who were maneuvering Cullen's stretcher through the narrow doorway. They'd nearly spilled him.

"Okay, they were right about the poison, but they could lie if they wanted to. Bilbo doesn't like me. He wouldn't care if I got killed."

Cynna didn't know what had Gan's tail in a twist. At the moment she'd didn't much care. She followed the guard with their sleeping burden into the tiny stateroom. Instead of a bed it had a padded, wraparound sofa-bench like the ones back at the Chancellery. Two sides were long enough for a human; the two guard deposited Cullen on one of them. She had to sit on the other side to give them room to clear out with the stretcher.

Sitting was okay. Her knees kept trying to knock together anyway.

Gan had followed her inside and was watching, her mismatched little face all broody. Cynna sighed. "Look, it's late. I nearly got killed and Cullen did die for a while. Can we talk about whatever is bothering you in the morning?"

"No morning here."

She grabbed for patience. "When we wake up."

"I guess." But she didn't leave. She looked at Cullen, then at Cynna. "You're all upset about Cullen Seabourne. I don't know why. He didn't stay dead."

"It's a human thing."

"Do humans always get weird about the people they fuck?"

Cynna swallowed a hysterical giggle. "Sometimes yes, sometimes no. We worry about our friends when they're hurt."

"I don't have any friends. Well, except for Lily Yu. She cares if I get killed or not, but she isn't here."

That punched Cynna right in the gut.
Don't anthropomorphize
, she warned herself. Maybe Gan wasn't quite a demon anymore, but she had been very recently. She probably wasn't capable of feeling lonely. She probably confused "ally" with "friend"—she wanted people on her side to increase her odds of surviving. Not because she felt adrift, cut off, alone in a strange place.

Logic did no good. She couldn't help it. Cynna got down on one knee and looked square into the absurdly large, pretty eyes set in that ugly orange face. At the moment those eyes were narrowed in a suspicious frown. " 'Friend' is a big word for me. It holds a lot of meaning. A lot of trust. You and I are maybe on the way to being friends. I don't know that we're there yet, but I would not like it if you were killed."

"Sure, because I can cross and you might need me."

Cynna shook her head. "Even if you couldn't cross, I would be sad if you died."

"Maybe you're lying."

"I'm not, but that's where the trust thing comes in. That's why people don't become friends all in one gulp. It takes a while to know if we can trust each other."

The scowl tightened a notch. "Would you be as sad about me as you would be if Cullen Seabourne had stayed dead?"

"No. But sad."

Gan stared at her a moment longer, then heaved a great sigh and ambled out the door, muttering, "This is confusing. This is really confusing."

Cynna followed to close the door behind her. Gan did not close doors.

"You got a license to practice demon therapy?" Cullen said.

"You're awake." She turned, a smile breaking out. "How do you feel?"

"Like a used lemon. Did you retrieve my diamonds?"

She nodded, suddenly swamped by an odd feeling that kept her silent. She couldn't think of anything to say… or maybe there was too much that she didn't want to say. Or even think. She felt… shy?

Cynna hadn't felt shy since the fourth grade, and she didn't want to handle it now the way she had then, Maria never had forgiven her for the bloody nose.

"C'mere." Cullen patted the crescent of space on the bench beside him as if her butt could fit there.

Her feet decided it was a good idea and carried her to him. Since she couldn't fit beside him, she sank to the floor. He raised his ami to make room, and she settled down with relief, her head on his chest, his arm looped loosely over her shoulders. He toyed with her hair.

This was enough. Right now, this was enough. He'd lived, and he was with her, touching her, wanting to hold her. She had plenty to think about, but for now she just wanted this. Her eyes drifted closed.

Maybe it was enough for him, too, because for long moments he didn't speak. Cynna would have thought he'd gone back to sleep if not for those warm fingers sifting her hair. Finally he murmured, "I heard pretty much everything. I was more or less dead, so I don't know why I could hear, but I could. You wouldn't let them dump me overboard."

Her throat closed up. After a moment she managed to say, "See? Denial isn't always a bad thing."

Cullen tugged at one strand of hair. "God knows I don't want to encourage you, but your denial worked out well for me this time."

"You're going to be okay, right? You can heal whatever the poison did to you?"

"Already healed that, or I wouldn't have woken up. Got some heart damage now, but—"

She squeaked.

He tugged her hair again, "That's what happens when oxygen flows back into heart cells when they've done without for too long… five minutes, according to recent studies. It looks as if the cellular surveillance system can't tell the difference between cancer cells and cells being reperfused with oxygen, so the mitochondria trigger apoptosis—"

"TMI, Cullen."

"I'll heal the damage in a couple days. What I don't understand is why my heart started beating again after it quit."

"I was doing chest compressions."

"You were praying."

"Well, yeah. But I was doing chest compressions, too. Got to give God something to work with."

"It was the Lady you called on at the end."

She remembered.
Bring him back
. "Your Lady doesn't do the miracle gig—or so you keep telling me."

"No, I keep telling you she isn't in the god business. She does sometimes respond to requests from a Rhej. Not often, but sometimes."

"I'm not a Rhej. I'm not even apprenticed to a Rhej."

"Take it up with the Lady. She seems to think you're hers." His voice was drowsy, fading.

"It was the chest compressions that did it." And maybe the Lady. Maybe Cynna wasn't hers, but Cullen was.

"Sure."

She needed to let him sleep. Needed some sleep herself, and God knew she was tired enough. But she didn't want to move.

Didn't want to think, either, but all the talk had kicked her brain into gear again, and it was presenting her with some facts. When she'd thought he was dying… dying, hell. He'd been clinically dead. There hadn't been room inside her for more than one big denial, and she'd spent it all on disbelieving in his death.

Cynna couldn't tell herself reassuring lies anymore. He mattered. He mattered all the way down, reaching places inside her no one had ever touched. Not even Rule. She was going to have to find a way to get over her notions about fidelity, because she wasn't getting over him.

Outside, a low chanting began. "
You who know Mershwin
," Cynna's charm whispered, "
You who know our fallen comrade, gather him close
…"

"What's that?" Cullen said.

She pulled the translator charm out, letting it lie outside her sweater. The whispery voice ceased. Somehow it felt intrusive or rude or something to eavesdrop. "Funerals. In addition to the tritons, two of the guard were killed." She sighed. "We'd better get some sleep."

"Cynna." He curled his fingers around her arm. "When you tried to kick Theera's ass—or whatever you were aiming at…" His grin made a brief, weary appearance. "I didn't block you because of the glamour, or because I didn't want you to punch her out. I didn't want her punching back. Sidhe can punch pretty hard."

His words settled into her gradually the way a dog circles a spot before curling up to sleep. Her smile rose from that settled-in place. "Okay. Good." She hesitated a second, then did what she wanted to do, and kissed him lightly before repeating, "Get some sleep."

"I'd sleep better with you beside me."

So would she, Cynna realized. And was almost too tired to find that scary. "You see a full-size bed here?"

"Move the cushions to the floor."

She thought about that, or tried to. But her brain had turned to mush, and if he wanted to feel her close while he slept, why not? She hated the skinny little benches, anyway.

A few minutes later the cushions were lined up on the floor and Cynna was settling onto them. Cullen was already stretched out. With a flick of her hand and a murmured word she shut off the lights. The darkness was full and cozy, like a blanket in winter.

His breathing was even and soft, but he wasn't asleep. When she lay down, he lifted his arm and snuggled her close.
Fantasy number three
, she thought, her eyes closing. She used to fantasize about sleeping with someone all the time… not about the sex, but the sleeping-with. She'd picked up guys a few times back in her young and stupid days because she didn't want to sleep alone.

Fantasy played better than reality. Reality was having a stranger's elbow poke you when he rolled over. Reality was cover hogs, feeling crowded, and morning breath. A man she scarcely knew who wanted her to
talk
first thing in the morning, for God's sake. Reality was that she could feel even more alone when she wasn't technically alone.

Reality tonight was Cullen. Who'd died protecting her. No heartbeat, not breathing… that equaled dead, however temporary the condition turned out to be.

Protecting the baby-to-be
, she reminded herself… but the reminder felt hollow. Did she really believe he would have stood back and let the slug-men kill her if she weren't pregnant?

He smelled familiar and welcome. He felt warm and living and
necessary
, which made her eyes burn.

All right, Lady
, she told the one she knew existed, however much her existence complicated Cynna's life.
You brought him back. Now what
?

Though she listened as long as she was able, all she heard was the quiet sound of his breath, the gentle lap of water against the hull, and the soft chanting in a language she didn't know. It was soothing, somehow, that chanting.

She fell asleep, still listening.