Soul Kissed (23 page)

She didn’t have the presence of mind to note that he still breathed and was looking right at her.

Her expression shifted through hurt and heartbreak—
Cari, see me
—then blackened into raw, Otherworldly rage. A tsunami swell of Shadow rose within her. The earth shuddered with the impending rush. A choral keening filled the air—multilayered, eerie voices from Twilight shattering the night. The air smelled like tears and blood.

Cari had used a lot of Shadow during the plague investigation, but not nearly as much as this.

Didn’t matter that he’d lost a lot of blood fast.

It was time to get up.

What was left of Cari’s thready control broke.

Mason, glassy-eyed. Pallor gray. His throat slit, blood dripping into a macabre collar. Breathing his last.

The angel was going to die. By her hand. Now. He’d taken too much from her already. But no longer.

Yes. She reached for the Martin dagger, buried in the heart of a dead man.

Yes. She lifted the blade and drops of warm blood skated onto her clenched hand.

Yes! She held the knife up, ready for its true victim.

Magic burst from Cari in a cataclysm of night. Shadow roiled out from her body until the black, star-studded sky above became a cloak, the silver on the water glittered for her adornment. The consciousness inside her merged with her mind so that she and the fae were one in sight and power and purpose. The fit was perfect, as if Cari were a vessel born to hold such power. She was the ultimate Umbra. Dolan. Dark House. The world, hers to rule.

The angel raised golden weapons to combat her. He had age and glory on his side, but she was as old as the Earth.

“You killed my Mason.” Her voice echoed in many tones, all of them anguished.

“He was already dead,” the angel yelled back at her.

No. Not an hour ago Mason had moved inside her. She had been going to claim him for her House and offer him her hand. Mason Maker. And this island would be the place they came to escape the politics of the Council, the pressures of all her duties. This would’ve been their happy place. But now, the whole wide world would be.

“He was dead the moment you were born.”

“And yet
you
are the one who has taken lives.” House after House. Her father. “I’ve only saved them!”

She swiped at her bloody nose, felt a warm gush between her legs, tasted iron—the magic was challenging her flesh. And at the same time, she was changing to accommodate it. She could feel the golden turn of each cell and nerve, a gorgeous ache in her womb. She was becoming immortal and shedding weakness.

“I remember the last time Queen Mab gained a foothold in the mortal world and plunged humanity into darkness and despair.”

Cari stalked toward him. All the living things in her wake screamed, just as she was screaming inside. “I’ve done nothing to harm any human. They surround my property, pound on my car, shoot at my wards, yell foul things, and I do nothing.” While this angel-fiend in his pretty, glowing skin had bled her Mason. “I
loved
a human.” Now she’d kill for him.

The angel lifted his spear. “Do you even remember what you do with your human lovers?”

Eat them. Nothing felt so good as a bright soul within her. She’d always wanted one—so pretty, prettier than any jewel, any golden bauble—a soul. She’d seduced men and women alike to give up theirs. And for a little while she could have one burn inside her breast, too. It hurt a little, but then, pain and pleasure were sides of the same coin. Sometimes it was difficult to distinguish between the two.

Mason had belonged to her.

Movement. She looked over as Mason lurched to his feet. Mason. Alive? He stumbled once to the side, pale and sick to death.

Joy made her eyes wet.

But he was alive. Soaked in his own blood, but alive. And now that she was really looking at him, she could see the Shadow that had sealed his wound.

Clever Maker. He’d be at her side forever.

Mason drew out his gun, his eyes going cold black to match hers. He aimed with both hands at the angel—still steady, even after Xavier’s attack. He fired three shots in rapid succession.

Xavier didn’t even look over as he swatted the projectiles out of the air like summer bugs. “You have to die, Cari Dolan.” He surged forward, light bursting from his being, his spear aimed for her chest.

And her limitless Shadow countered in a rush of her own.

Lightning snapped between the two forces as each strained forward, the spear piercing the monstrous wind of Shadow. Cari bared her teeth in a primal snarl. She was going to tear the weapon from the angel’s arm. She’d take his arm, too. Rip him apart, like he’d tried to rip her life apart and had almost succeeded.

Her vision fell to utter blackness. A storm blew the grass and trees and water into nothingness. She stood on a ruined plain of scorched earth. The desolation was beautiful and serene.

“Cari!” a voice called.

Mason. Shining bright. Wading into the fray after her. He’d picked up a shovel, now smoking with magic. Mason was so beautiful, the hue of his intensity shifting to white. White hot. She wanted him inside her. Deep, deep inside her. Wanted that shattering feeling every moment of every day.

Xavier must have seen the rapture on her face. “You will snuff out that light. You won’t be able to help yourself. Give him up.”

“He’s mine.”

“Save his life. Give
Mason
the world.”

Mason’s head was down to angle into the storm. His shirt was blown back by the gale, the open sides flapping. His chest and belly were flexed with his effort. He’d grabbed the shaft of the shovel, lifted it, twisting his body for additional force.

And it occurred to her that Mason and Xavier were two of a kind. Her fae-turned mind couldn’t discern which of the advancing lightning souls belonged to the man she loved and which to the one obsessed with killing her. The glare of Shadow and Light washed out their features. Both strove with equal intensity.

Had to be the one with the spear. But he was pretty, too. And the earthy scent wafting from his body—it had a pull that she could only describe as intriguing.

Maybe she would take him, too. She tightened her grip on the Martin blade.

Part of her mind rebelled. No. She didn’t want either of them. She had a duty to her House. She was the Dolan. These creatures of Light were not her business.

Except she wanted Mason Stray.

She would have just that one.

No.

She didn’t trust
how
she would take him inside her or
which
ecstasy her body desired.

Her nerves recoiled, drawing her tight with fear. She was frightened of what she could do. Of losing enough of her mind that she wouldn’t know the difference.

“You can’t kill me,” she sneered in the face of a lesser adversary, but part of her meant it.

The world required magic to thrive, which was why Shadow was necessary. It was time for an age of beauty and innovation, when dreams could be rich with ideas. Heroes could rise, inspired by truth.

But she would take the world farther, into a time when magic dominated. Whim could be reality. Dreams and nightmares would be reified on the land, not just trapped in a slumbering mind. Made real. And humankind could conceive some terrible things. But nothing quite as terrible as she, queen of it all. Her great beauty would be barbed with thorns of fear plucked from the hearts of children. Where she stepped, flowers would bloom. Where she wept, they would die. And her House would grow to such proportions that it would blot out the sun.

No.

Cari dropped the Martin knife. Shadow still fought the angel—she couldn’t help her nature to strive against Order—but if the angel could reach her with that spear, he could end her brief reign.

The moment was not unlike waiting for the nod of the gallows man. The last Dolan woman had chosen to hang.

“Fight!” Mason shouted.

She was fighting, but on the side of the angels. She’d already come to this conclusion at Segue: she needed to change her House’s loyalties. Well, she was giving it her best shot.

She used Shadow to yank the shovel from Mason’s grip. It whistled off into the wind and disappeared over the flatlands that had been the lake before she and Maeve had emptied it.

Xavier primed his arm, the gold spear aiming for her chest.

She wasn’t afraid. And she wouldn’t, couldn’t die. She might not have a soul, but she was immortal just the same. She just belonged in the
Other
world. The stars would keep turning in the sky. The waters in the sea. Everything in its place. How this little island would bloom where her blood had been spilled.

“Take me back,” Cari said. The angel needed to strike while the madness was controlled by the reason her father had taught her. She raised her Dolan chin to take the blow. The storm could rage and rage, but she was a queen and could face anything.

But I want this world,
Maeve roared in her mind.

Xavier had the moment—she’d given it to him like a gift—but he hesitated, surprised, seeming confounded by her cooperation.

Cari braced—hurry! Maeve was writhing within her, a ghost trapped in a bottle. Cari tried to hold her back, but the fae climbed over her resolve, into her skin and bones . . . through her like a doorway . . . ripped through her flesh in a bloody advent . . . and escaped into the world with Cari’s gasp of dismay. Shadow convulsed around her, accepting the queen into the world. Formless she rose into the air, free.

Maeve was free.

Xavier’s expression flexed with an indrawn breath, ready to strike.

But he was too late, in more than one way.

Mason came up behind him, a hand to the angel’s chin, the other curving around his forehead. Black spider lines etched through the angel’s skin. With a hard yank, Mason broke his neck.

Even as the angel’s neck snapped at Mason’s hard yank, the wraiths let up shrieks of hunger.

Soul. Xavier’s faded in his arms. Which left Mason with the only soul on the island. He tried to cover it again, but was too damn weak and too shocked by the blood gushing from Cari’s nose to look beyond her. He tried to step over the angel’s fallen body, but his own knees buckled. He was so cold. “Move!” he warned her. The wraiths would trample her in their rush to be the first to suck his face.

She whirled around as he dropped to his knees. He ended up propped on Xavier’s back, where he would have collapsed if not for the alarm stringing him upright.

Cari’s arms had lifted to the sides, outstretched as if to hold the monsters back. Wraiths had superhuman strength; she was no match for even one. She had to move out of the way.

Their jaws were low, razor teeth ready to clamp like a bear trap to hold their prey in place for their kiss. Their fetid stink preceded their rush, carried by a gust of air. Their sallow skin and eyes of terror suggested this was a horror to them, too.

Shadow convulsed—Mason felt it like a sonic punch.

And before his eyes the wraiths were mowed down by a scissor shear of lashing magic. It took them from behind so that they went down in pieces—living, immortal chunks of gore that putrefied his lawn. A disembodied arm, still twitching, landed at Cari’s feet.

“Very thorough,” Mason said.

She stumbled back as he pitched forward, so they caught each other. One arm held on to her waist, another around her upper thigh. Which was warm and wet. He brought his fingers back, to find more blood. It was a red night. The iron stink was everywhere.

“It wasn’t me.” Cari’s teeth chattered audibly.

The wraith bits would eventually reassemble—probably as wights. The monsters were trapped in the world, no matter their state.

He pulled on Shadow to cover his soul, though he didn’t know how long he could keep it up. Cari was trying to say something, but he was more concerned with how much she was bleeding. And from where. What the fight with Xavier and this wraith mincing had cost her. She had to stop. “No more. Not safe.”

She turned, swiping at her nose, and smeared blood across her cheek. “Crossed, Mason. Maeve crossed.”

Sweet Shadow, her eyes were scary blood-shot, too.

“Stop using Shadow. You’re done.” She was done, or she was dead.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I didn’t do it.”

He made himself stand. They’d lived. Now they just had to survive. First thing—he had to check Cari out. And he was dying of thirst.

“Mason, listen to me.” Cari’s irises had grown. The circumference had enlarged slightly. More black. More fae. “Maeve. She isn’t in me anymore. She got out. I couldn’t hold her back. She got out. I tried to hold on, but—”

Relief almost dropped him.

Had they won their happily ever after?

“Maeve got out. Good,” he said. Cari needed to be free of her.

Cari shook her head in denial. “No, not good. Not
good!
She’s insane. I saw
everything!
”

“As long as she’s not in you.”

“Not in me, but still here.” Cari pointed to her chest. “Connected.”

Movement on the water. Mason squinted to see. No more. Not now. Three boats skimmed forward. Mason grabbed hold of Cari to try to put her behind him, but the move was clumsy with the angel’s body in the way.

Light and Shadow flickered, and the face of Laurence was revealed at the helm of the first vessel. He and several other angels were quickly approaching.

Mason surveyed the carnage. He put his mouth to Cari’s ear. “Do not tell them about Maeve.” Lest they take up Xavier’s cause now that the worst had indeed come true. Mad Mab had crossed into the world.

Cari shook her head. “I have to warn them.”

He grasped the sides of her face. He would not let them hurt her, but he wasn’t worth much now. “Please trust me. My friend. My sweetheart. My love.”

Her chin quivered.

“Do not tell them. They will have to try to cut the threat out of the world. And what will Maeve do to
them
?” She’d diced the wraiths into pieces.

“She hates angels.”

Yes. Perfect. “So don’t pit them against her. We’ll find a way. Just promise me . . .”

“Ho, Mason!” Laurence called.

“No more blood tonight,” Mason whispered. “Please no more blood.” Not Cari’s.

He would not break eye contact with her until she nodded. Not even as the angels came ashore and approached the battle site.

“Cari.” He needed her assurance. “Do you trust me?” That devilish trust again.

Finally, she nodded.

 

 

Angels were here. They were beautiful people in a clean, bright way, with eyes so clear that Cari thought they must see everything. A group went to deal with the shuddering, scattered messes that were the wraith leftovers. She couldn’t bring herself to look over to see how they handled the muck.

A trio came to collect Xavier’s body from where she and Mason stood. Two lifted him and carried the dead angel away, his arms slung over their shoulders like a wayward friend who’d passed out from drinking too much.

A white-haired angel remained behind to speak to them. His eyes were sharp blue, like chips of ice.

“Do not go into my mind,” Mason said between clenched teeth.

Cari knew he was covering for her. He didn’t want them to know about Maeve, when they
should
know. It was the end of the world.

“I always ask,” the angel said.

Mason shook his head, disagreeing.

The angel gave him a beatific smile. “The day we scarred you?”

Mason jerked.

So this was the one who’d put the plague sores all over Mason. And here the angel looked like distilled peace.

“Mason Stray, you
showed
me everything you are, of your own free will. But then, you were in so much pain after leaving your son that I don’t think you realized it. Your mind is your own. I will not invade it without permission.”

“He’s going to fall over,” Cari said. And so was she. Mason was so heavy.

“Will you let us care for you?”

She didn’t know what that entailed.

“After all, you took care of our problem. Let us do what we can to finish this business.”

Please let’s.
“I don’t think either of us can walk.”

The angel raised a hand and a female approached. She was slender, almost androgynous in her body’s angles, but utterly lovely. Cari reached out to her, as the white-haired angel caught Mason’s inevitable collapse.

“Xavier cut his throat,” Cari said so they’d be extra careful.

But it just made the white-haired angel look very sad as he one-shouldered Mason’s weight.

They were gentle, quiet, and organized.

She was taken to the kitchen, where she was stripped. She was washed, the blood cleaned from her body. The angel had the efficiency and detachment of a nurse. A needle found its way painlessly into a vein in her arm, and with a tingling rush, Cari didn’t feel so bad at all.

In her drugged vision, she imagined a being of great golden beauty looking on curiously. Her proportions were strange: Very tall. Taller than any person she’d ever seen. Her skin was burnished to a brilliant shine. Her lips were full and shimmered with metallic sheen. Her eyes tipped up like a cat’s, and while the concentric circles of her irises were rings of varying black, her lashes were indigo, exaggerated into a thick curl. Her black hair waved away from her forehead and licked and twisted in tendrils and spits of silky magic.

The Lovely Being sneered at the angel before she squinted her eyes to examine Cari, peering into her face. Cari squinted back into hers. It was a strange face. One Cari thought she should know, but her brain was too slippery to find and attach the name. Father would know her name. She’d ask him just as soon as she saw him.

The angel nurse didn’t seem to notice the third person in the room while she helped Cari. She was trying to dress her in big, ugly gray sweats. Cari pushed the heavy cotton away.

“They’re Mason’s,” the nurse said. “We couldn’t find anything else that would be comfortable. Your other clothes are too fitted for you to rest.”

Oh. Mason’s. That was okay. She stopped fighting. “Where is he?”

“He refused to sleep, so Laurence set him up on the sofa.”

“So-fa. That’s where I want to go, too.” Wherever he was, she wanted to be.

The Lovely Being reached out to put a finger to Cari’s lips. The touch sent a shiver over Cari’s whole body.
Don’t tell them I’m here.

The white-haired angel came into the kitchen. “How is she?”

The Lovely Being hissed.

“No injuries that I can see. I think her blood loss was due to Shadow poisoning. But she’s shivering again, so I’m watching for fever.”

“‘Too much Shadow and the body weeps,’” the white-haired angel said. “There’s so much of it here.”

The Lovely Being turned toward him. She bent her beautiful neck and licked him on his jaw.

He startled and stepped back. His gaze skated around the kitchen, seeking with those keen eyes.

The nurse paused in her fiddling with the IV line. “What?”

“Fae. They’re everywhere.”

The Lovely Being poked him in the chest with a long black claw of a fingernail. She needed a mani. The white-haired angel frowned.

“Crossed. End of the world.” Wait. Cari wasn’t supposed to say anything. She covered her mouth with her hand. She’d been taught to keep secrets.

The sharp blue eyes turned to her. “The fae have been crossing for almost a decade.”

“Not like this,” Cari said. Her hand wasn’t doing a very good job. Father was going to have another long talk with her.

“No,” the angel said. “Not like this.”

Cari Dolan was beautiful. Maeve couldn’t stop admiring her. The delicate sweep of her eyelids. The gentle dimple in her upper lip. The small knob and arch of her collar bone. She was perfection. Dark royal blood seeped through her veins.

What an exquisite child.

If ever there was a vessel to hold umbra, Cari Dolan was its model. And at just the right moment, she’d tipped the pot and poured out upon the world a faery queen.

The act had harmed her though, which was the only reason to tolerate the presence of the angels. Cari needed to be well and strong, in this her final change. Without the flesh, there was no anchor to keep Dolan Shadow in the world. And Maeve wanted to stay. Now that she was back, she intended to stay forever. She and Cari would live together and celebrate this world.

Night still cloaked the sky, but Maeve could hear the growing hum that would be dawn. Sensation was at its most exquisite when it hurt just a little. She would go out onto the water—wet, limpid, cool—and wait for the cruel master that was the sun. And she would quiver under his unforgiving rays, this once again, since time forgotten.

And she would laugh in the old bastard’s face.

 

 

Late morning was moving into the glare of noon, and still the Order was crawling all over his place. Mason sat on the sofa with his arms around Cari as the angels conducted their final assessment and clean-up of his little island. She couldn’t stop shaking. She’d said she was cold though the day was coming on humid and hot. She’d dozed a bit, and he’d wanted to, but he didn’t trust the Order. Didn’t trust anyone where Cari was concerned.

She’d said that Maeve had crossed. The fae queen was in the world.

Cari had been so beautiful in her fight against Xavier, with golden light shining through her skin, eyes an unfathomable black of magic. Shadow had whipped all around her. Until that moment, he’d never considered that Night had its own brilliant illumination.

The ordeal with Xavier was almost over. How ironic that the angel himself had brought about what he’d most feared. Xavier had all but invited Maeve into the world.

The skin at Mason’s neck itched. Laurence had put something on the wound. Shadow had sealed him back together, but maybe the Order’s stuff would hurry the healing process along. He wanted the Order gone, but would endure their clean-up. He hated disposing of bodies.

There was some hammer banging, so someone was repairing something. Very considerate of them. The house itself had not taken any obvious damage, but he could sense that the structure and foundation had been infused with Shadow—the fae whispers found in the great Houses now hissed within his own.

Laurence finally sat down opposite them, heaving an exaggerated sigh. It was the most human Mason had yet seen him. “Your land has been restored, though it will take a few weeks for the grass to grow back in places. The wraiths have been collected. The dead are now being taken elsewhere for burial. The other body was that of Stanley Piernik, whose home is on the Canadian side of the bay. Xavier used him to test for a trap.”