Soul Kissed (28 page)

So Mason said simply, “One threat at a time. At least humanity has not yet found its power.”

“Just like you, they will.” The faint cries against Shadow filled the silence again. “Do you really want to bring Fletcher here?”

And have Cari for a wife and mother of his child? Yeah. He did. Besides, “No wards come stronger than Dolan’s. All of humanity might be screaming at your gates, and this is still the safest place in the world.”

The tone of the light in the room altered, magic flowering into a burst of Shadow that parted the veil between the mortal world and Twilight. Their ride to the ball. Marcell Lakatos must have been sick of his taxi service into and out of Twilight.

Cari wrung her hands, clearly nervous about her first transport.

But Mason was anxious to get going for another reason. His heart was bouncing with excitement. Fletcher was supposed to be waiting on the other side. “You’ll love him,” he said.

Cari knew exactly whom he was talking about and smiled. Something to look forward to. “Do you think he’ll like me?”

Cari was shaking with power when she crossed back into the mortal world. It throbbed, alive within her. The Otherworld was her domain, just as it was Maeve’s. The strangely toned music, the drugging scent of the air, the fluid brush of Shadow on her skin—it made her feel wild inside, so that when she emerged in Maya House, in a room with splendidly dressed people, she could only be disappointed by the dullness of the world.

“Shadow’s pitch, look at her eyes,” said Arman. His House was the only warded place with allies on both sides of the dispute against Order. And this room seemed to be located off the main ballroom, where the murmur of voices waited.

“It’s a good look,” Mason assured her.

Cari gave him an exasperated groan and turned in question to Kaye. At least she was a flash of vibrant color—fiery hair, porcelain skin, a sculpted red gown that screamed sex and power.

“Your eyes are all black, even the whites, like a fae’s,” Kaye answered. “It’s frightening, which can only help us. You are still helping us, right?”

“My conditions?”

“Met,” Kaye said.

Cari gave a Dolan smile. “Then you have my full support.”

Kaye’s gaze went wary. “Would you be willing to do it in the old way?” She was asking, not demanding. And the way she was worrying her manicure said she was nervous. Kaye Brand, firemage, nervous. Interesting.

“The old ways are all the fashion lately,” Cari drawled. “You mean fealty.” Kaye wanted her to basically acknowledge Brand House as magekind’s sovereign.

Kaye gave a short nod. Mason’s brow tightened, disturbed. He was so handsome when he glowered. But the others in the room all seemed to have been prepped on this idea. Their eyes went shifty.

“Gutsy of you,” Cari observed to Kaye. The last House that had asked for fealty was Grey House, and Ferrol was dead. Martin, for one, would never bend knee. This was inviting open hostilities against Brand.

“We’ve got a fae queen eating human souls,” Kaye said. “This division among the Houses has to stop. Details will be worked out later, but I swear that for your cooperation, Dolan will be my First House.”

So second in line for hostilities. An honor and a noose.

Cari glanced over at Mason. “What say you?” Dolan would be his House too if they both had their way. And with Kaye’s help, they might just get it.

“I think you would be just as good as Kaye in the Seat,” he said. A deep breath. “But her connection to the Order via Jack Bastian has broader repercussions.”

“The Order is even now marshaling against the fae queen,” Jack put in.

The heavy subtext was that they were already fighting Dolan’s battles. Cari had no trouble admitting she’d need all the help she could get.

“I’d do this tonight, publicly?”

Kaye colored at the possibility of her acceptance. “It would have the most impact and at a very critical time.”

Cari cast her gaze down to the floor, which she didn’t see because her brain was working overtime. What would her father do? She shook her head no. She had to stop thinking of him. He was dead. This was her decision, and it would have far-reaching effects. If she did this, there’d be no ultimate glory for Dolan, but if Cari really wanted that, then she need only welcome Maeve. Maeve was all for Dolan glory.

She lifted her head again. Met Kaye Brand’s black gaze. “Is there a title I should use? Formal language? Secret woo-woo symbol I draw in the air?”

Kaye broke into a brilliant smile. “Thank you.”

Suddenly everyone was breathing deeply and looking at each other with tight smiles and jerked nods.

Kaye twisted a little toward Jack Bastian, but the angel was already there with a supportive hand to Kaye’s elbow. “Jack remembers how the ceremony went from way back in the day. He’s old.”

Her last words made everyone chuckle, the tension completely broken.

“Ironic that an angel has to remind magekind about its own oaths,” Mason said.

Surprised, Cari looked up over her shoulder. He’d somehow moved to her side in a blink. She liked that he was behind her. Liked the heat coming off him. Liked the stroke of his voice. Felt right.

“It appears I have something to memorize.” Cari squeezed Mason’s hand. He must be going out of his mind with this waiting. He had something better to do than listen to her recite lines over and over. “In the meantime, has Fletcher arrived yet?”

 

 

Mason let himself out of the side room where the others were settling in to an impromptu tutorial. The ballroom was full of mages in fancy clothes and cloying perfume. Gunnar Martin had a severe frown of disgust across his face and had worn a sword that Mason didn’t think was for ceremonial purposes. That was okay. Mason had come armed as well—he had the Martin House blade
and
Xavier’s weapon of the moment. Both were concealed under his tux jacket, along with his holster.

But Mason wasn’t looking for a fight. He was after a short stop, rib-high, whom he hoped was looking for him, too. Dad had saved the day. A grin from Fletcher was all he needed as reward.

Mason ducked around people, who felt the need to shove their palms into his for a shake, when they’d never deigned to recognize the stray in public before.

“Well done!”

“Congratulations!”

“An honor to meet you, Greatmage Stray.” That “greatmage” and “stray” should be put together boggled Mason’s mind. Like “esteemed” and “scum”—a laughable combination.

Alistair of Verity House actually bent his head to his ear and offered to claim him and Fletcher.

“Thank you, but I’m taken,” Mason said, disengaging himself. How utterly surreal.

If he could just find Fletcher—

There. On the far wall, next to Webb. Mason should’ve been looking for the old man.

The kid was all choked up with a tie. And at second glance, he didn’t look right in other ways either, though Mason couldn’t quite tell how. An ice pick migraine jammed into Mason’s brain. He’d thought it’d be pure joy to see Fletcher, but the intensity of the emotion remained as it morphed into acute alarm.

Fletcher’s eyes grew big and unblinking when he spotted him coming through the crowd, but he didn’t return Mason’s smile.

“Riordan,” Mason said, when he reached them. But he couldn’t help lower himself to kid height. He looked into his son’s black eyes, searching for the smartass inside. “You in there?”

Fletcher nodded.

But the drawn expression on his son’s face made Mason burn. It’d only been two weeks. He’d left Fletcher with Maria for longer and had come back to elaborate, life-threatening pranks.

Mason wanted to grab Fletcher and hug him, to lay his hands on that head, stroke his hair, check his ears, feel the bones, smell him, anything to assure himself that his son was whole. That his kid lived was suddenly not enough. Not nearly enough.
Whole,
damn it.

But Fletcher had been sensitive lately to displays of affection in front of other people. So Mason had to satisfy himself by squeezing his shoulders with his hands and standing to address Webb.

“Does he know?” Mason asked.

Fletcher’s face didn’t light with the knowledge of good news. They needed a private reunion, so Mason could shake the kid back into himself. As it was, he could only snag his son by the collar in case he had to wrench him away from Webb.

“If you were looking for a House,” Riordan said genially, “you should’ve mentioned it. I’d have been happy to claim you. Keep it all in the family, so to speak.”

Bald-faced lie, but Mason wanted to stay nice. They’d have to work together in the future. “Cari made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.” Just wait until Fletcher heard.

“I’m very excited to begin planning the Umbra project with you,” Webb said. “I have some ideas—”

“—which, I’m afraid, will have to wait until later tonight. I’ve got to introduce Fletcher to Cari.” A lie of his own. Cari was busy. Mason wanted to grill Fletcher to get at what was wrong. The pressure of concern in his chest was getting unbearable.

“Certain—” Webb was saying.

But Mason was already pushing Fletcher ahead of him, while searching out a quiet corner. He resisted the instinct to pick the kid up and make a run for it. His instincts were screaming fire. Keeping his cool was an act of pure will, but the effort was making him sweat into his brand new custom tux.

Another door. Looked okay.

Unlocked. Even better.

Inside was a narrow room loaded with party miscellany. Perfect.

As soon as the door shut, Mason went down on his knees and grabbed his son into a tight hug. The small body went rigid in his arms, but the size, the contours, the density—tough and soft—were all unmistakably Fletcher. Mason’s ear was at his chest. Fletcher’s heartbeat was the sound of peace and rest and hope. But not cooperation. Mason sat back on his heels to beg. He’d rip out his own heart and hand it over, if only to get real answers. “What happened at Webb House?”

Took too long for Fletcher to answer. “Nothing.”

The answer sounded truthful, but Mason didn’t like it. He tried a different tactic. Ask around the issue. Come from a different side. “How did you find out about the Lures?” The first sign of trouble.

“I made it up.”

Lorelei Blake’s death and Fletcher’s text message had not been a coincidence. “We promised we’d never lie to each other.”

“But you left me anyway.”

The first lie, and the root of whatever was bothering him. Mason did not mistake the recrimination in his son’s voice. They were getting somewhere. Yes, he’d sworn that they’d stick together, forever. And then the plague had hit. Mason had thought his son had understood. Fletcher had even said it was okay. Mason was a fool for trusting an eight-year-old’s understanding of adult nightmares.

“And Mr. Webb just traded me to some lady for his business. I’m going to her House tonight.”

“What lady?” Was he talking about Cari?

“Like you care.”

Two weeks had done this. Two fucking weeks. “I do care. I know the lady. Cari Dolan. I’m staying at her House. You’ll be with
me.
”

“I hate her. I’m going to kill her the first chance I get. She killed my mother.”

“That’s not true! I was there!” Mason took his son by the upper arms and shook. “A fae killed your mom. Cari tried to stop her.”

But Fletcher’s face closed. His mouth pressed tight. He was a small, but impregnable fortress of secrets. Something had been said. Some idea had taken root. His son had come to some awful conclusion and had built a wall between them when Mason wasn’t looking. A sear of frustration ran along Mason’s nerve fibers.

“Goddamn it,” Mason said, standing, but keeping a tight hold on one of Fletcher’s arms. He was never letting go of the kid again. Never. “We are resolving this now.”

“Where are you taking me?” Kid’s voice had turned mean.

“To meet her. To hear what she’s done for us so that we can be together again,” Mason said.
Together, like I promised.
“Then you tell me again how you want to kill her.”

 

 

A bright spark burned in Maeve’s eye, and she turned her countenance toward the Light. Another joined it, and another, until her vision danced with bothersome fireflies. Angels, here to fight the wrong.

But she was far more beautiful than they; she had the illumination of thousands within her. She was a torch, her mind heavy with their understanding.

She wasn’t
wrong.
She was inevitable.

“And Shadowman, too? He’ll help?” Cari was astonished at Jack Bastian’s news. She’d learned her lines for the big announcement and the conversation had turned to the insane fae queen. Maeve was not Segue’s problem—they didn’t even have
wards
—but it seemed Adam and his people had agreed to throw down and fight against the fae queen, too. The Order was already actively engaged against her.

Cari put a hand to her chest to quell the rise of feeling, but couldn’t express how deeply moved she was for the support. Any reservations she had about swearing fealty to Brand evaporated.

Bastian put a hand to her arm. “She won’t be the only fae to cross. Darkness is rising. Dolan will have its work cut out for it in the years to come.”

Cari clenched her teeth, steeling herself. Yes, she would do whatever she could. Her House, its long strength, was behind this effort. This was what she’d been born for. Plus, she’d have Mason beside her. It wasn’t such a terrible future.

There was a sharp knock, then the door opened without their having had a chance to answer. A kid was propelled inside—Mason’s eyes!—the father behind him.

Cari’s stomach fell. Fletcher Stray. This was it. And Mason looked angry.

Jack Bastian disengaged and stepped back toward the door. “I’ll let Kaye know you need a few minutes.”