Renegade (27 page)

“Later.” As Sybil walked out, Griffin came in. The two of them exchanged tentative smiles. That was good.

Griffin closed the door behind him, and her heart plummeted. A man who’d come to celebrate with his lover would be grinning, hurrying toward her. Not standing with his feet braced and his face grim. She drew a slow breath.

“I’d be dead without you,” he said.

“We’re even on that score.” If he would stay, agree to fight for their future—

“It’s good of Harrison to give me a chance,” he said. “Most won’t.”

“Some won’t.”

“They still don’t trust me and may not ever. There’s no sense in sugarcoating that fact.”

“Is that why you’re planning to dump me?” The words surprised her. She hadn’t meant to say them out loud.

He looked startled. “You deserve better than you’ll get if you’re with me.”

“And you deserve better than you’ve had.” Val took a step closer, willing him to believe her. “Together, we can show them—”

“Maybe when hell freezes over.” The denial and pain in his eyes made her throat ache with frustration. “I love you,” he said, “and loving me is wrecking your life. I can’t do that to you.”

The last of her hope withered, but she had to give it one final try. “I never told you I was engaged once, to a man who wanted me to give up my dream of being shire reeve. He wanted me to do something safer. At least he had the balls to admit his fear was the problem and give me a choice. If you love me, you’ll respect my right to decide what I’m willing to face. Make a stand with me.”

His jaw tightened. At last he said, “That you’d choose me and all my baggage means more to me than I can say. But too many people have suffered terrible losses because of me. I couldn’t save them. I can save you.”

“So I’m paying your karmic freight for everybody? That is such bullshit.” Despite everything, she couldn’t believe he’d ask her to accept that. That he could accept it.

“Eventually you’ll see it’s not. People ostracized Allie. I won’t be the cause of that happening to you.”

He was adamant. Val took a deep breath that didn’t ease the heaviness around her heart. “Allie didn’t have you with her. With you beside me, I can face anything.”

He shook his head. “This way, you’ll have your job back. I know you will. You deserve it.”

“I’m not sure I still want it. If I do, I’ll find a way.”

“Your road’ll be easier without me.”

She didn’t want easy. She wanted him. If only she could make him see that. Make him believe in what they could have together.

“You know, you’re protecting me again, and I like it even less now than I did before. I’d hoped that would change when you were acquitted. Since it hasn’t, I guess things wouldn’t have worked between us anyway.”

Pain flickered in his eyes before they became unreadable again. “Maybe not,” he said.

“What will you do?”

“I’ll go home with my folks for a while. Meet my brother-in-law.” He shrugged. “There’s always another mural for Gray Walker or Simon Ishmael to paint. I’ll be fine. So will you. I’m doing this for you.”

Val shook her head. “No, you’re not. Doing what’s best for me would mean building a life together, whether it’s here or somewhere else. You’re doing this for yourself, so you don’t have to feel guilty.”

She took a deep, painful breath. “Good-bye, Griffin. Good luck.”

He looked at her a long moment, and sorrow filled his eyes. “Good luck to you, too.” He walked out, closing the door quietly.

Val blinked back tears. Sometimes love really wasn’t enough.

D
uring Griff’s two-week visit with his parents, he’d been antsy to get back to work, but painting didn’t offer the refuge it once had. Dabbing white on the stream, he frowned at the big canvas. His unreliable mind kept putting Valeria on the flat rock.

At least he had no memories of her here, in his new home.

He’d had to give up the place in the swamp. He couldn’t defend it if ghouls came hunting, but he’d found a refuge half a mile from the swamp that he could buy at a good price, a rickety old farmhouse with a sturdy, much newer barn. He’d set up a studio and living space in the barn and dived back into work because he wasn’t sleeping.

Griff dabbed blue in the water. She looked good in blue.

It had been a month since he’d seen her, half that long since he’d come back to Wayfarer. In time, she would realize he’d done the right thing.

Stepping back, he forced himself to think only of the painting. He had the trees roughed in, the stream almost done. Maybe he should’ve chosen another scene for his own mural, but this was one of his favorite places. Eventually, it would become a comfort again, a memento when he knew she’d moved on, a way to hold a bit of what they’d shared.

How pathetic.

Scowling, he chugged Coke. He’d grown to like it, even though he no longer had issues with the ammonia taste. With both the magic and venom in his system low, they seemed in balance. Finally. Hell of a price to pay, he thought, staring at the unoccupied rock he’d painted.

Shit.

Maybe that was justice, too. He’d killed people who hadn’t deserved death. If his powers were the recompense the universe demanded, he was getting off lightly.

He stalked to the window, where an air-conditioning vent wafted cool air through. With recharging not an issue, he could indulge the pleasures of climate control. When he had time, he’d maybe fix up the house, but the open space down below was fine for now.

Before heading out with his parents, he’d hired contractors from Wayfarer to build a kitchen, bath, and a couple of closets on the ground floor. They’d also built a real staircase up here to the loft, and put up drywall throughout. Which he still hadn’t painted.

He’d let his mom, who was desperate to do something, anything, for him, choose furniture. The big, cushioned pieces upholstered in blues and burgundies went together better than the secondhand hodgepodge he’d had before.

At least his paintings still looked as vivid as they ever had, despite the loss of his magic. At least to him. And the canvases he now had the time to do were selling well.

Stefan’s steel-blue BMW coupe crunched its way down the newly graveled drive. Odd, that he hadn’t called first. Stefan parked and climbed out, his expression one of grim purpose.

Had something happened to Valeria?

Griff set his brush aside and clattered down the steps from the studio to the main floor. He flung the door open while Stefan’s hand was raised to knock. “What’s wrong? Is it Valeria?”

“No,” Stefan replied, studying him. “Interesting that she’s your first thought.”

“Shove it.” Griff stalked back up the newly stained and waxed stairs. He’d bought the banister, with its smooth top and carved dragons swirling along the sides, from a local folk artist.

Stefan followed. “Nice to see you openly enjoying your success at last.”

“Yeah. The painting’s going well, but I have to take care that it doesn’t squeeze the shelter kids out of my day.”

“Can’t have everything.”

Or even the one thing he wanted most.

At least he’d kept his promise to make up to the kids for running out on them the night Valeria was hurt. “I’ve turned the magic tricks over to Will, but I bring goodie bags.”

They reached the loft. Griff shut the door, closing the cool air in. “Want a Coke? Beer?”

“No, thanks.” Stefan nodded at the painting. “That looks good, almost like I could walk into it.”

“Thanks. In this, at least, I seem to be normal. I guess the art wasn’t due to magic after all.”

Griff considered the mural. Maybe a little yellow in the water, for sunlight. He picked up his brush again. “So what brings you to my corner of the swamp?”

“A promise I made you.”

What promise? He hadn’t— Oh, fuck, yes, he had. Griff wheeled around, shoulders tensing. “So there is something wrong with her. Damn it, you should’ve said so.”

“It’s nothing that isn’t normal,” Stefan said.

“Good.” Griff relaxed.

Stefan added, “For a woman dealing with a broken heart.”

Griff scowled at Stefan to hide the way the words gouged his soul. “Stay out of this, bro. I’m warning you.”

“I promised I’d see to whatever she needed, and she needs you. I think you need her, too.” Stefan slid onto a stool.

“I need her to be happy,” Griff ground out. “Secure. She has a better shot at both without me.”

“That must be why she’s losing weight and always looks tired and drawn, as though she isn’t sleeping. Why she keeps to herself.” At Griff’s sharp look, Stefan shrugged. “The Council hired her to lead a new task force, uncovering traitors in the ranks, working on the demon problem. She recruited Javier and, for part-time, Tasha. She’s already rousted half a dozen from intel and recon in the shire reeve’s department.”

“I could’ve told them she’d be great.”

“And she is, at the job. But she keeps to herself. I guess it’s because she’s so damned happy and secure that she won’t have anything to do, at least in her off hours, with people who don’t forgive you. Doesn’t even do much with her team, Javier says.”

So she was lonely anyway. Tired and heartsore and lonely. The image flayed Griff’s heart. His fingers tightened on the brush.

“You don’t look so great, either,” Stefan added. “You need to stop trying to atone for things that aren’t your fault and start liv—”

“Shut up!” Pointing with his brush, Griff said, “We’re grown-ups. We deal.” Even though he couldn’t sleep without her and when he did manage to sleep, he dreamed of her. “In the long run, this is best.”

“I saw her kill you.”

The quiet tone, the pain behind it, stole Griff’s breath.

“I tried to stop her,” Stefan continued, “but I was dazed, too slow. I was ready to kill her. I had the power in my blade to fry her, more than enough. She was sitting on the floor, cradling you in her arms.”

Griff couldn’t breathe. He turned his back and snapped, “Enough.”

“She and I lived it. You can hear about it. I was about to blast her when she looked up at me. Tears ran down her face. Poured down, but her voice was steady when she said, ‘Do it. Please.’”

“Okay.” Griff pushed the word through his tight throat. “I get it.”

“If only. That’s when I realized what had happened, when she said that, and then she told me about her promise. Later, in the chopper, when you started to revive, she was terrified that you wouldn’t be you, that she would be honor bound to do that again, and she didn’t think she could. Hell, I don’t think I could’ve done it the first time.”

Griff’s throat tightened. He cleared it, hard. “So now she doesn’t have to worry about that.”

“You’re bonded to each other, Griff. Do you know how rare that is?”

“We
were
bonded. The traitors took care of that.”

Stefan made an impatient sound. “For a smart guy, you are so fucking stupid sometimes.”

“Hey—”

Stefan grabbed him, swung him around. Griff’s hands rose, fisting, but the pain in Stefan’s face stopped him.

“Griff, there’s no moving on from what she did for you. I bet she thinks you don’t forgive her. Maybe she doesn’t forgive herself.”

Griff could see it, could feel the echo of that pain, both Stefan’s and Valeria’s. That didn’t mean, though, that being with him was good for her. “Okay,” he muttered. “I understand.”

“I hope so.” Stefan released him. “What matters is what you do about it.”

What if Stefan was right? Four days later, the question still gnawed at Griff. The mural was progressing, and he’d resolutely finished the flat rock as an empty one. But the idea of Valeria suffering haunted him.

He’d thought she would get over it. She was strong. It had only been a month. Surely her friends would come around if he stayed away. Surely she would unbend toward them.

He feathered sap green along the branches of a pine tree. Her eyes were green, with flecks of golden brown.

You’re doing this for yourself
, she’d said.

Was he? He’d killed four under-reeves doing their duty. Allie, Corin, and Sykes wouldn’t have died if not for his choices. He couldn’t let Valeria also pay for what he’d done.

His phone rang, and Hettie’s number appeared on the caller ID. He picked up the phone. “Morning, Gorgeous.”

The familiar snort came back to him. “How come I haven’t seen you since you been back, boy?”

“I’m working. Painting, something I’m free to do partly thanks to you.”

“I got your letter, your offer of a freebie. I’d love a picture of Magnus. If you want to come take some photos of him, I’ll have fresh biscuits in the morning.”

“You can always bribe me with food.”

“Counting on it. I’ll have eggs, cantaloupe, and some of Elijah Kimball’s home-cured bacon. See you at nine.” As Griff winced, she added, “Don’t tell me that’s too early for you artsy types.”

“Even if it is.” Over her snort, he said, “Any news I should know about?”

“Bunch of mages have been messing around the old Adams place. They say it’s safe, but they’re keeping an eye on it. I’ve been taking ’em cold drinks.” She paused. “That girl of yours is there now.”

Valeria. His chest constricted. “How is she?”

Not what he’d meant to say, but he had to know.

“Come to breakfast and see for yourself. I’m inviting her, too, since she’s meeting with the mayor and town council late tomorrow morning.”

God, how he wanted to. Ached to. “That’s not a good idea. I’ll take Magnus’s photo another time.”

“Bullshit. Chicken shit, too.”

Anger flared white hot in his chest, pushed through the pain in his heart. “You have no idea—”

“You listen to me. Your mama and daddy won’t say this to you. Too worried about you, too glad to have you back, but you know I don’t pull punches.”

“So you’ve all talked about Valeria and me. Blast it, Hettie—”

“That girl deserves better than this from you. Lawyers deal with a lot of angry people, and I’ve had my share. But I’ve never seen anybody so damned furious, and so damned scared, as she was when we were trying to stop them from killing you.”

Damn it, could no one see? “I’m trying to give her the future she deserves. I owe her that.”

Yet she kept to herself, Stefan had said.

“Sell yourself that crap if you like.” Another snort. “I’m not buying it, and she doesn’t want it.”

“Has she said—”

“Of course not. Got her own share of stiff-necked pride, that one. I know grief when I see it, though.” Hettie’s voice softened. “And I’m telling you, it’s eating her up. You think about what you really owe her.”

Hettie hung up. Lips tight, Griff snapped his phone closed.

Turning, he spotted his car keys on the bar. Well, they would just stay there.

It’s eating her up
, Hettie had said.

First Stefan, now Hettie and, by implication, Griff’s parents. The way things were going, Magnus would weigh in next.

Maybe they all had a point, though. He’d meant to protect her, to keep her from paying a price for loving him. She’d paid one anyway. He was trying to keep the cost down, but was he fooling himself, as Hettie implied? Was he really making things worse for Valeria?

Leaders didn’t run, and Val hadn’t either. Nothing she could face as task force director would be harder than coming here, looking down the rutted, overgrown lane to the spot where Griffin had finally said,
I love you
. But she’d done her duty, seen the countering ritual performed, felt the residue of Chaos magic so she could recognize it again.

Now the job was behind her. One more thing down.

One more tie with him severed.

She’d found a reliable tracker and learned Tina Wallace and Jim Barcan had been murdered by rogue mages. The young deputy reeve she and Griffin had saved, Darren Hale, helped her prove it.

Computer records from the Americus nest had shed light on the ghoul breeding program. But there was no explanation yet for why the ghouls now used explosives at their nests, how they’d come to ally with Void demons, or what they planned.

Meanwhile, Will and his parents, who were famous archaeologists, were studying the amulet the ghouls had used on her. So far, they’d had no luck figuring out how it was made.

“Hey, boss.” Javier trotted toward her. “Looks like we’re done. Anything else before we head back?”

“I’ll check the monitoring crystals. You and Leah can go.”

“Thanks. See you at home.”

He jogged toward the portal site, where Leah probably waited. The guy never walked, now that Val thought of it. He must have a hell of a lot of nervous energy.

Hettie’s blue pickup truck bumped its way down the lane. The older woman had kept the working mages supplied with iced tea, lemonade, and homemade cookies. And she’d never once mentioned Griffin.

“There you are.” Hettie stuck her head out the driver’s side window. “Got a minute?”

“Sure. I have only a couple of things left to do.” Val strolled around the truck to Hettie’s side.

Magnus bounded from the truck bed and dropped an icky tennis ball at Val’s feet. She tossed it into the woods. With a joyous bark, he gave chase.

Hettie peered over her glasses. “Since you’re meeting with the town council tomorrow, would you like a bed for the night? I’ll give you a good country breakfast in the morning.”

Stay over in Griffin’s second home? In the bed she’d shared with him? No way.

“That’s very kind, but I have a room at the motel on the highway. Breakfast sounds great, though.”

“Suit yourself.” Hettie shrugged. “See you round about nine, then.”

“Thanks.” Val hurried to check the crystals and leave before Magnus thought to bring back that slobbery ball.