Soul Kissed (16 page)

Mason screwed the cap on. How he could get his skin remotely close to any smear of the stuff was beyond her.

Shadow wisped inside the bottle. Grasped in his hand, he raised it. “Hold,” he said. The plastic of the bottle crackled with lines of black magic, like shattered glass.

Shadow filtered out through the sides, like mist. “How did you do that?”

He didn’t seem in the mood to answer. “Open your purse.”

She almost complained about putting the unclean thing in her very nice bag. But it was the logical place to transport it. She fished out her phone and gave it to Mason to hold in his pants’ pocket. He rolled his eyes when she handed over her driver’s license and credit cards, too.

Then she opened the bag wide and let him drop the awful thing inside.

“Let’s get out of here.” He had good reason to be angry. She’d invaded his most intimate space, sought his soul. After seeing its light, she understood what an insult, what a terrible breach that had been. There was no way that Mason could’ve ever set the plague on magekind. She
knew
him.

“Mason—”

“Not now.” He gripped the open door.

Cari let the matter go. She wasn’t going to apologize later either. She’d had to know, and now she did. She shouldered her bag
.

“They’re all below, at the base of the stairs.”

Yes, a gathering of Lures, standing in a semi-circle like a smoky net to catch them. “Maybe they’re just waiting for word of what we found.”

“They’re not. They want you, the new Dolan, at their beck and call, and this is probably their only chance.”

It was simply what their House did for power, and she had to concede that Dolan was a tempting target.

“I’m not afraid.” She’d been practicing. “Let me go first.”

He started out into the hallway without looking back. “I’m here for a reason, princess.”

 

 

He’d failed, a gut-punched feeling. He’d been discovered. There was no good reason for her to keep his secret. She didn’t owe him a damn thing.

How was he—or anyone—to have known how much she was capable of?

Didn’t matter. She knew. He had to think. Now. Of what he could offer to compel her silence.

Problem was, as always, he had nothing but his life and the labor of his hands to his name. And neither was worth this secret when it would give her a chance to strike at Kaye Brand. Never mind that it would also impact Webb . . . and therefore Fletcher.

 

 

Cari followed, but she wasn’t about to play the weak woman just because she felt bad about insulting Mason. She was the Dolan, and these Blakes would understand what that meant if they tried anything.

Mason drew a gun from the holster on his right kidney underneath his shirt. The weapon smoked, so she knew he’d tricked it with Shadow, too.

“You can’t get all of them one bullet at a time,” she said.

Is he ours, then?
Maeve sounded thrilled.

He’s mine.
Cari didn’t trust what Maeve intended to do with or to Mason’s star soul.
Mason Stray is mine alone. I want him.

At the top of the stairs, Mason paused. “You’d be surprised how fast things go when you hit the target every time.”

Cari hadn’t the experience with shooting people to argue, so she started down after him. She put a hand on Mason’s shoulder to keep their progress synchronized. Below, the Blake family waited, including what looked like two teenage children. It didn’t take long before the Lures noticed Mason’s weapon.

Takum flicked a hand toward it. “What are you doing?”

Mason descended a few more slow steps. “I’m being careful.”

A Blake woman leaned toward them. “Did you find anything? Could you tell who did this?”

“No,” Cari said. “The investigation is still inconclusive.” She wasn’t going to inform them that she didn’t think a mage was responsible. “But it was very helpful that you kept Lorelei’s body the way it was when she died.”

One of the children, a girl about sixteen, gave a gasp of outrage. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, her voice thick. “Aren’t you supposed to be able to, like,
see
everything?”

Cari stepped down when Mason did. Soon the Blakes would have to back out of the way, or declare other intentions.

The old man, Takum, growled at the teen. “Shut your mouth, girl.”

The teen rounded on him. “You said the Dolan bitch would know who killed my mom.”

Takum’s eyeballs did a quick swivel to see if the word “bitch” had done any damage. “I said they were trying to find out.”

“You’re a liar!” the girl screamed.

This was familiar to Cari. Stacia and Zel had screamed a lot, too, when they were her age. And this girl had good reason to be upset—Lorelei was her mother. Cari knew exactly how it felt to lose a parent—cold, desolate, isolated.

Mason had halted four steps up from the bottom, probably waiting for them to comfort the girl or take her away to explain that there wouldn’t be any immediate gratification. Some things took time.

But Takum was more direct with his communications. He back-handed the girl with a slap that had the teen whiplashing around, her body flying limply, painfully, to collapse . . . at Mason’s feet.

Cari felt him shudder under her hand.

Could a Lure ensnare a human soul?

Mason answered her question. “If this child does not remove her hand from me, I will damage her.”

The teen immediately cringed. “It didn’t work!”

Takum grabbed one of her legs, which was sprawled near him, and dragged her off the stair. Her head bumped and she screamed again, then scrambled back behind the others, who closed in on Cari and Mason’s progress.

“The Council will never recognize Blake House again,” Cari said. It was a safe bet, though Dolan House was positioned opposite Brand and she had no authority to speak for the High Seat.

The old man gave a yellow smile. “I think our standing with the Council is about to rise.”

A bright crack to Cari’s right signaled gunfire from a Blake, and her sight blackened with Shadow.

Oh, no you don’t.
Give me power, Maeve.

Mason turned to fire back, but it seemed he moved in achingly slow motion. Both shots hovered in Shadow air, sparks glinting from their sources. The moment had no beginning or end; it stretched and twisted and Cari understood that time wasn’t as Ordered as she’d thought it was. Time was nothing.

Magic filled her and filled her until there was no room for air in her lungs. Maybe she didn’t need to breathe.

Cari snorted.
I just want to get out of here.

The Blakes’ house began to rattle. Its loose boards clamored against each other, dark faelight gleaming through the cracks. The place trembled like chattering teeth. A strange sensation of airiness filled the stair area and the rooms within her sight, as if she were freshening it up. The teen was screaming again; if Cari tilted her head this or that way, the sound could be laughter. The other child, the boy, had backed toward the front door to escape. Cari wanted him to run, because then she could pursue.

Mason’s voice cut through her delight. “Back it down, Cari.”

She smiled, feeling glorious. “No. I got this.” It was strange how good it felt. The Blake wards were as weak as old Takum, but being able to overcome them filled her with a snap of pleasure. She could do anything. The world would be hers again.

The Blakes cringed and brought their arms up to shield their heads.

She’d worked for mastery, and all in all, thought she was doing pretty well. Would it kill Mason to acknowledge it?

“Enough,” Mason said.

Seemed it would. Fine. She didn’t want to be here any longer either. Her father had told her only to use what force was actually necessary. Nothing more.

She reached with magic and lifted the Lures off the floor so that their legs dangled in the air. Then shunted them over to the right, against the wall, so that the way to the front door was clear. “After you.”

But Mason foiled her again. He stepped aside so that she could pass and he could bring up the rear—though she’d demonstrated pretty spectacularly that she could take care of herself. She walked down the rattling steps—they didn’t challenge her balance at all—across the main room and out the door. The porch was even more unstable, and she had the odd awareness that in the crawl space beneath, dark things dwelled.

Well, they couldn’t hurt
her.
And she wouldn’t let them hurt Mason.

Her face warmed in the sun. Really, it was a gorgeous day. The sun had never been so gorgeous. So vivid, a burnished yellow. The great life-giver. Masculine to her ready soil. She wanted to bake under it, naked, let the gold in her blood run hot through her veins.

Take it then,
Maeve said.
This is ours, too.

Ours. The sun even?

A beat of want sent a tremor through her.

Inside, Mason was instructing the Blakes to release the wards so that they could leave the property. Then he came up behind her and took her arm. “Let’s go.” He led her forcefully to the car. “You can let go of the house now.”

Oh. She looked back as they rounded the car. The house had seemed rotten and unstable before, but now the slats were worn and broken. The paint had flaked off completely, so that the structure was naked. Naked was the official state of the day.

She’d come here to find a house of cards. If she let go, would it collapse?

 

 

Mason reached across Cari to rifle through the glove compartment. Not his car, so he didn’t know what he’d find. Happened on a pack of tissues. He handed the lot to Cari. “Here.”

Her nose was bleeding again, and the princess hadn’t even noticed.

She took the tissues and dabbed. “I did better that time.”

“Better than what?” Every time she tried something, the sense of heavy, absolute night overcame him. Shaking Blake House—spectacular, but completely unnecessary. And he was not even going to bring up what had happened in that bedroom of death, with Lorelei rotting on the bed, how Cari had . . . reached inside him somehow.

He needed to find out what this new power was, and she did too. No one should have that much magic. No one. Once, even a week ago, he might have said that he trusted her with it, but now that he’d witnessed its hold again, he knew that not even Cari Dolan could manage it. This was danger the likes of which he’d never experienced before, and he’d seen some damn scary things.

“I did better than last time, at Vauclain House.”

Mason glared at her incredulously, then shifted gear. Cari had been just as overtaken as she had before. That she could be articulate now was a miracle—her eyes were full black, drugged with magic. Her skin gleamed fae. Her beauty had become fierce, harsh . . . frightening. She couldn’t afford to be oblivious. It was against her true nature, and she had a House to sustain.

“You’re getting worse.” He gripped the steering wheel. He wasn’t going to soft-pedal this. She needed to know. “You’re out of control.”

“I beg to differ.” The princess Dolan thing. “I’m exactly as I should be.”

“In fact,” Mason added, “I don’t think control is even possible. If it were, you’d be the one to manage it. And you can’t.”

“Well, we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?” A sharp smile, from a sharp woman.

But because he’d been her friend once, he was not going to leave it at that. “We’re going to Segue now. Get you some answers. They can’t wait any longer.” He redlined the car in each gear until the speedometer needle shook.

“Segue has no wards.”

“Doesn’t sound like you think you need them anymore.” She’d been the one who’d wanted to speak to Khan. Where was
that
Cari?

“I’m not stupid. There’s a crazed angel out there.” She looked out the passenger window. Cold and stony. The bloody tissue was clutched in her hand.

“Segue has an angel or two if you are concerned,” Mason said. “And everyone there is fucking crazy, too.”

The princess had iced him out for most of the drive to West Virginia and had dozed, slack-jawed, the rest of the time. He liked her that way, vulnerable. Human, almost. But as the miles peeled away, he became more and more certain that this was the best thing to do.

Cari needed help, and she needed it badly if she could no longer recognize the fact for herself.

A couple hours into the trip and a new worry gnawed at him. Cari might just—no, he wouldn’t fool himself either—Cari could
easily
challenge Kaye Brand. And while Mason had always liked Cari—more than liked her—he couldn’t dismiss what Brand and her angel had accomplished between them: peace. However tenuous, there were too many other concerns—the fae came to mind—to allow anything to break the truce between Order and Shadow.

Cari could not take control of the Council.

It was close to midnight before Mason began the twisting climb that led to Segue’s compound. Adam Thorne, its founder, had the full support of the US government, so soldiers stood at the ready before the massive gated entrance.

Mason braked the car to roll down the window to speak to a soldier at the main gate. The sweet smell of the surrounding forest and mountain air filled his lungs. He’d always liked it here. “Mason Stray. They’re expecting me.”

He recognized the guard on duty, and the guard recognized him, too. “And the lady?”

“Cari Dolan, also expected.”

Cari had sat up and was blinking the sleep from her eyes. “Where are we?”

“Segue,” Mason answered.

The guard must have received some sort of confirmation in his ear piece because he held up a hand and made a whipping, circular signal. The gate began retracting.

“What is this place?” Cari was getting that black-black glaze to her eyes. Her shoulders were migrating upward, tense. She must be scared.

“Stop it.” Mason touched her chin to get her to look at him. “These soldiers and this gate are as close as Segue can get to wards. They won’t hurt you.”

She seemed to wake more fully, tucking one side of her hair behind her ear, straightening her blouse. She was always better after sleeping. He wished she’d been able to sleep longer.

He accelerated through the gate and drove toward the main building. The Segue Institute was run out of a retrofitted turn-of-the-century hotel. The place was haunted, and its chief function was to dispose of wraiths, but all in all, it wasn’t such a bad spot to pass time.

“They are very nice people.” Mason wanted to put her at ease. “Fletcher loves Thorne’s boys.”

“Thorne.”

“Adam Thorne. Runs the place. He’s Khan’s son-in-law, married to Talia.”

He drove around the building to the back lot where Segue’s staff parked. He embraced the dart of jealousy he got every time he faced the massive garage that housed Adam’s very nice collection of cars. The ’65 Shelby Cobra was definitely one to pine over. He’d spent a very happy afternoon poking around under its hood.

The combination of night and altitude had chilled the July air, so that it tingled against his skin and made Cari cross her arms. “This way.”

The back door was already opening, silhouetting Adam against the light from inside. “Must you always come at awful hours?”

Mason laughed as he and Cari approached. “What’s the matter, old man? Kids stealing your youth?”

“You would know.”

Mason’s hand was out for a shake, but the reaching motion became a kind of brotherly hug. Mason had been negotiating this strange kind of acceptance for the past year. He wasn’t one of them, but the people at Segue didn’t seem to know that. They all ignored his handshakes. Talia had once kissed him on the cheek. He’d brought something for her boys, a little gadget that Fletcher had liked when he’d been their age, but the kiss was still strange. He’d expected Adam to slug him.

Mason gestured to Cari. “This is the great Cari Dolan. Old family. Pure blood going way, way back. You’re in the presence of mage royalty.”

Cari put out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Adam shook hers. “I hear you’ve had some trouble at your place of business. DolanCo, yes? I saw the clip of the mob—very nice work, by the way, Mason.”

“Not my first time.”

Cari gave a diplomatic answer. “Magekind couldn’t stay secret forever.”

“I met your father once, a few years ago.” Adam drew them inside the building where the sweet night air was replaced with the processed cool of air conditioning. “It was at a charity function for inner city youth sponsored by many companies. I had to go back and look it up, but I even have a photo of myself standing next to Caspar. I wonder if we would’ve come to know each other, become friends, if I had brought my wife that night. She’s half fae. As it was, neither your father nor I had any idea that we both had Shadow in common.”

They passed through the lab level, all white, sterile. Low ceilings. Some of the doorways were open a crack—the researchers kept all hours here. Others were shut and darkened for the night.

“I’m sure he would’ve liked that.” Cari’s polite voice, which Mason knew was meant to keep everyone at a distance.

So he made a sound of disagreement. “I don’t know, Adam. The Houses usually tread very carefully where outsiders are concerned. Magekind, even now, keeps to its own.”

Adam looked back at Cari as he led them to an elevator. “That’s too bad. Maybe we can get beyond that with your visit.”

“An optimist for the Dark Age.” Mason laughed. But it wasn’t going to happen, not with Dolan’s allies at least. They drew strict lines.

Cari glanced his way. “I’m an optimist myself.”

Mason sighed heavily. She was going to cause trouble among her faction if she mixed with outsiders. Humans, angels—they were barely tolerated.

The elevator took them up to the main level, which was illuminated with ambient light coming from the back of the building, where Mason knew the kitchens were. Too bad about Segue’s cook, who’d been murdered by someone from Martin House not too long ago. Maybe that’s why Adam was trying so hard to make nice with Cari. Maybe Adam was looking for allies. Martin and Segue had bad blood between them.

The ground floor rooms here were open, restored to the hotel’s previous glory, though Shadow webbed the darkest corners. Magic was thick, but as there were no wardstones, there was no sense of movement, no prickly-neck feeling of being watched, as there was at Dolan House. Adam’s attention to period detail was lost at night, but a feeling of open-spaced timelessness still prevailed.

Indistinct voices murmured ahead, so it seemed that others had waited up to meet them, too. Or rather, waited to meet Cari. If he’d come alone, he would’ve been let in by whoever was awake and would’ve had to fend for himself from there.

Through a pantry, Adam pushed a swinging door that led to the kitchen. The heady scent of coffee smacked Mason in the gut, made his mouth water. Segue was very much like that—a cup of good coffee waiting in the middle of a long night.

Introductions first.

Talia, Adam’s wife, started forward when they entered. Pixie blond, her Shadow-black eyes looked tired, but her smile was fresh. She held out her hand to Cari. “I’m so pleased—”

But Khan was suddenly there, blocking his daughter with an outstretched arm and pushing her back. His severe face was drawn into acute wariness as he examined Cari. His height made him impressive; the blackness of his slick, long hair and the shape of his eyes said he had once been fae.

Talia was cut-off, midsentence.

Mason too had halted, mid-smile, caught by surprise. Well, this was the person that Cari had wanted most to meet.

Khan welcomed Cari, saying, “Your father was a weak, sentimental fool.”

The gathering in the kitchen strangled into silence.

“Whoa.” Mason put a shoulder in front of her and held up a hand to keep Khan back. As if the mage who’d once been the Grim Reaper could possibly be stopped by flesh and bone.

“I don’t under—” Cari’s smile flickered on her face like a lightbulb about to burn out.

Mason’s smile had been snuffed already.

Khan didn’t move forward, but was still undeterred. “There’s a very old saying among the magicked of the world: Never suffer a Dolan female to live.”

Mason didn’t dare break his concentration from Khan to find out who else had gathered in the kitchen to meet Cari. Adrenaline, however, had done the coffee’s job. He was alert now, blood pumping fast and free. What had crawled up Khan’s ass?

“Your father should have left you in the wild as a babe, exposed for the beasts of the world to prey upon.”

“Mother of God, Khan!” Adam stepped back to protect Cari as well. “What’s your problem?”

Khan lifted his chin to indicate Cari. “The Dark Age begins with her.”

“You just met her,” Adam said to Khan.

“I’ve known her for ages.”

“I’ve known her since she was a teenager,” Mason said. “She’s a nice girl.” Er, woman. But it was too late to correct.

Khan craned his neck down to look into Cari’s eyes. “Mad Mab was never a nice girl.”

Adam leaned his head toward Mason to mumble, “Reincarnation?”

Mason shrugged. He didn’t know, but a hot and grim confirmation of his worst fears burned in his chest. He’d been worried something was wrong with Cari, and now he knew he was right. Mad Mab? Cari used to be the epitome of control and poise . . . until lately. Khan’s reaction reaffirmed everything Mason feared. Cari’s power
was
dangerous.

“Dolan Girl,” Khan said, “would you lay down your life to save humankind?”

Damn, but she was making no friends today.

“I serve my House—” Her voice quavered. Few, okay, none, were prepared to meet Khan in person the first time. And it went beyond his physical stature and unusual looks. His power was life and death, and every living thing in his presence knew it.

Mason had had enough of this. Khan would step the hell back. The Dolan Girl had had a rough week. Besides, Cari had already given her life . . . to her House. It was her duty, her honor, to do right by her people. The future of Dolan rested on her leadership and her womb. It was House 101. Khan had best sign up for the course.

“Retreat, Maeve,” Khan said into Cari’s face. “Or I swear I will bend my power to smothering the Dolan line.”

Mason put a hand on Khan’s chest to move him back. The badass mage didn’t budge a millimeter. “Enough. You need to explain yourself.”

Khan transferred his attention to him, eyes lit with predatory humor. The stray . . . no, a
human
. . . tangling with Death?

So squash me then,
Mason thought.
But lay off.

“You cannot think to shelter her here,” Khan said to Adam. “The fae queen abides in her umbra, and one day this poor girl will give birth to her, and madness will reign on Earth.”

Mason hadn’t thought Cari’s condition was
that
bad.

“Cari Dolan”—Khan straightened, as if making a pronouncement to all of Segue—“you need to die. And I am more than happy to dispatch you.”

 

 

Cari had steeled herself, but she couldn’t stop a slight tremor on the inside. It would help if Maeve would shut up for a minute. Queen of the fae? Mad Mab?

Mason was arguing, and Adam Thorne arguing on top of him. Talia had rounded on her father, her pale fairness clashing with the jet black of his long tresses. And another woman stepped up, with reddish hair, and actually had the nerve to grab the arm of Death and make him turn to face her.

Cari’s heart beat against her ribs. So much yelling, and her life seemed held in the balance.

“No,” Cari answered. She wouldn’t argue or beg for her life. It was hers and she was keeping it. These people, even the scary ones, could argue all they liked.

Someone nudged her elbow and she flinched. A very strange man held out a coffee cup. He had the look of Kaye Brand’s angel—perfection, though he was olive-skinned with dark blond hair—but Cari was certain that Shadow ran in his veins. The very darkest of Shadow.

The dark angel spoke: “They may be at this a while, so relax and take a load off.” For some reason Cari could hear him over—or under—the clamor. “I’m Custo Santovari, and I have a fae trapped inside me, too. We should start a club for the possessed. I’ll order jackets.”

He couldn’t be serious. Strait-jackets maybe.

He held out the cup again. “It’s good stuff. Adam always gets the best for his people.”

She let go of Mason, utterly bewildered, and took the cup. The warmth in her hands did feel good. Steadying.

“They’ll argue, but anyone who’s spent any time at Segue could tell you the decision they’ll come to. Each and every one of them would die
for
you before killing you. Including me, by the way.”

She couldn’t find a response to that.

Custo waited a beat, then said, “I understand you have something for me? A sample to analyze?”

He had to mean that bit of Lorelei Blake that Mason had scooped up. Cari hugged her purse closer. “I was going to turn it over to the mage Council.”

“The Order can identify any soul by the person’s DNA, and I hear both you and Mason think the plague came from someone with one. I swear, you’ll be the first to know our findings.”

He made sense. She handed him her purse, relieved to be rid of it. Everyone would want answers sooner than later anyway. Based on the raised voices in the kitchen, peace was deteriorating pretty quickly. Well . . . kinda.

Over by the sink, some other woman watched the argument with avid, almost happy interest while she dipped her finger into what looked like hot bun frosting and licked. She noticed Cari watching her and held out the platter of sweet rolls.