Sunset: Pact Arcanum: Book One (23 page)

Rory sighed at her harsh tone, and continued to pace. “He knew Medusa intended to detonate the bomb no matter what happened, Layla. He needed a way to keep her off balance until she gave him an excuse to intervene.”

Layla regarded him coolly. “He did not need to offer one of the terrorists asylum. That decision has had political ramifications that have only made his job more difficult.”

“He acquired a Fourth Order telepath,” Take reminded her. “Jeremy will be a very useful resource if we can find a way to bind his loyalty to us.”

Rory finally stood still and folded his arms as he glared at Layla. “Frankly, I fail to understand your hostility toward Nick. He’s performed admirably under the circumstances.”

“I despise weakness. He was a broken man, lost in his own despair and self-pity until after Los Angeles,” Layla said scornfully. “We only appointed him Ambassador to the Court because it was too dangerous for either you or myself to enter the Court’s sphere of influence, and he was the only other Magister under our control.”

“He’s not under our control, Layla,” Rory protested. “He’s not a pawn.”

One of her eyebrows arched delicately. “Isn’t he?” She stared intently at Rory. “We appointed him Ambassador to Humanity for a specific purpose. Have you forgotten that?”

“No.” Rory didn’t meet her eyes. “No, I haven’t.”

“I know you love him, but it’s blinding you to his faults. Nicholas is not ready for the task we plan for him. It is up to us to make sure he becomes so, before it is too late. We are the crucible that will fire his spirit. If you are unwilling to do what must be done to mold him into the man we need him to be, you should stand aside and let Takeshi and me handle him.”

Eyes downcast, Rory sighed and nodded. “All right,” he said finally.

Take stood and squeezed his lover’s shoulder lightly before facing Layla, his expression hard. “How do you think we should proceed?”

Layla looked at Rory silently for several seconds. Then she turned to Takeshi and began laying out her plans.

P
ART
IV
: 
D
ECEIT

C
HAPTER 17

July 2040; Anchorpoint City, Grand Mesa, Colorado; Six months after public exposure

Nick moved his bishop across the board. “Checkmate,” he said with a grin.

“Shit!” Jeremy mumbled, staring at his exposed king. “How did I miss that?” Frustrated, he grabbed his glass of scotch and swallowed a good third of it.

“Best of seven?” Nick leaned back smugly, taking a sip of Tiamat.

“Damn right!” growled Jeremy. Then he sighed. “I’m never going to get this game.”

“You’re getting better, Jer. Trust me, you used to be awful.” He laughed at Jeremy’s glare until a soft tone signaled a visitor. “Back in a sec,” Nick said. Checking the external monitor, he smiled and unsealed the door.

Lorcan stepped inside carrying a bottle of wine. He kissed Nick and made his way into the living room while Nick sealed the door behind him. Glancing at the antique ebony and mother-of-pearl chessboard on the coffee table, he snickered. “Another horrendous defeat, Jeremy?”

Jeremy didn’t even look up as he flipped Lorcan off. “Blow me, Bloodsucker.”

Lorcan settled down on the couch, placing his bottle on the coffee table next to open bottles of Double Voice and single malt. “I don’t do humans, Terrorist.”

Jeremy looked up from studying the chessboard, his face turning red. “Don’t call me human, you piece of shit.”

“Okay guys, time out.” Nick stepped between them. “It’s getting late, Jer. I’ll see you tomorrow before we head out to Washington.”

“It’s not late, Nick. It’s barely eight o’clock. If you want me to leave so you can get laid, just say so,” Jeremy said snidely.

“He’s got you there, Nicholas.” Lorcan put his feet up on the coffee table. “Good night, Terrorist.”

Jeremy downed the rest of his scotch and rose to his feet. “Don’t keep Nick up all night fucking, Bloodsucker. Tomorrow’s a big day for him.” He walked to the door, the bottle of scotch in his hand. “See you in the morning, Nick.”

“Good night,” Nick said, red faced, as Jeremy unsealed the door and let himself out.

The Daywalker dropped onto the couch next to Lorcan, who was studying the positions of the porcelain pieces. “Isn’t that the gambit I showed you last week?”

“Yes. He’s getting better. I have to be creative to keep ahead of him.” Nick sighed. “I wish you’d stop calling him human. You know he hates being reminded of how different he is from other Sentinels.”

“Of course I know. He just irritates me. I don’t like how he hangs around with you every waking minute.”

“I enjoy spending time with Jeremy.” Nick shrugged. “I never have to explain myself to him. He already knows everything about me.”

“True,” Lorcan said grudgingly. “And I can’t fault his devotion. I think if you were human, he would gladly step in front of a bullet to protect you.”

Nick silently picked up his glass and finished his drink. “I know. Medusa really did a number on him.”

“That level of commitment can be very dangerous. I have met more than my fair share of fanatics over the centuries, and your young protégé reminds me greatly of them. Jeremy was prepared to die for Medusa, no matter what it cost in lives to those around him. There are no limits to how far he will go for the sake of his loyalties. Be careful with him, Nick. He’s a loaded gun. Make sure he’s only pointed at your enemies when he finally goes off.”

Nick slumped in his seat. “He’s my friend. That’s all I want from him.”

“Then you should encourage him to have other friends. He can’t be focused entirely on you all the time. I know your allies are starting to warm to Jeremy somewhat. Maybe you should ask them to put more effort into forming stronger relationships with him.”

“I already have,” Nick said. “Jer has made it obvious he doesn’t care what they think of him, but it’s plain that he respects their skills, and he’s certainly willing to learn. Rory has been working with him on developing his psychic technique beyond the limitations of the Gift, Scott’s teaching him unarmed combat, and Take says his sword work is improving.”

“And Ana?”

Nick grinned. “Ana’s trying to teach him to dance. Apparently Jer has two left feet.”

“That’s a start. Has he considered joining Armistice Security?”

“I think Jeremy has had enough of taking orders.” Nick moved the chess pieces back to their starting positions. “He’s perfectly happy to remain a civilian. And I certainly have enough on my plate to keep him busy as part of my diplomatic staff.”

“That you do,” said Lorcan. “He’s right about one thing at least: tomorrow is a big day for you. Formal recognition by the United States—I haven’t seen anything like it in five hundred years. If the human governments in Canada and Mexico follow suit, as you expect them to, you will have eclipsed everything I have ever achieved in my career as a diplomat.”

Nick smiled at him. “You helped me out a lot in setting this up, Ruarc.”

“I honestly thought you were insane to accept the position when the Triumvirate assigned you to this duty, but you’ve displayed a remarkable degree of creativity in your efforts. It was my pleasure to advise you; however, I think the Court would seriously disapprove if they learned of my involvement.”

Nick leaned over to kiss Lorcan lightly. “I won’t tell,” he said.

Lorcan traced Nick’s cheekbone with a fingertip, and red sparks began to ripple across his irises. “Nicholas,” he whispered and Nick felt his own thirst rise in response. “I have something to commemorate your victory.” Lorcan swung his feet to the floor and reached out to pick up the bottle he had brought with him.

“What is it?” Nick noticed the bottle for the first time.

Stripping the wax from the neck of the bottle with his claws, Lorcan used telekinesis to draw out the cork. “A special kind of bloodwine. I brought it from home.” He met Nick’s startled gaze. “Don’t worry, it’s freely offered.” He poured a generous measure of the burgundy liquid into the two empty glasses on the table, then warmed them with a weak heat cantrip.

“What’s so special about it?”

“You’ll understand when you taste it,” Lorcan murmured. He tapped his glass against Nick’s, making the crystal sing. “To us.” He took a sip.

Nick copied him, closing his eyes as the flavor of the liquor spread across his palate. “Wow,” he said after a moment, “this is great. Better than Single Voice, stronger too.” He took another sip. “It almost tastes like—” he trailed off, his eyes snapping open as he turned to stare at Lorcan. “It tastes like you,” he whispered.

Lorcan nodded and took another sip. He closed his eyes, plainly savoring the taste. “It
is
me.”

Nick carefully set his glass down on the table and faced Lorcan again. “It can’t just be you,” he said hesitantly. “It has a soul echo. There’s mortal blood in this as well, and you said it was freely offered. What is it?”

Lorcan smiled, his eyes still closed. “This is Selene.”

“Selene?” Nick was startled. “That’s only made for formal matings, when both partners contribute equally to symbolize the union.”

“Yes,” Lorcan opened his eyes, staring straight at Nick. “This is made from my blood, and Connor’s. I was saving it for the day I finally turned him, when he’d be able to drink it without ill effects. I never got the chance to share it with him before he died.” His gaze turned to the bottle on the table. “I have kept this bottle protected, unopened for centuries.”

“Ruarc…” Nick struggled to find the words to express the turmoil he felt. “I don’t … this is … it’s too much.”

Reaching out, Lorcan picked up Nick’s glass and pressed it into the Daywalker’s hand. “You are the only one I have ever allowed to see the memories of what he and I shared. My closest friend in four hundred years. I want you to feel what I felt when I was with him.”

Nick lifted the glass to his lips and took a larger sip, trying to untangle the shadows of memory and emotion contained in the soul echo. “He really loved you.”

“Yes, he did,” the Nightwalker whispered. “It had been so long since I let myself remember.” He looked at Nick. “Until the night I showed him to you. You gave him back to me, Nicholas. I wanted you to know how grateful I am. This bottle is for you, to thank you for that gift.”

Nick finished the rest of his glass and placed it back on the table. Picking up the cork, he slid it carefully back into the mouth of the bottle and renewed the preservative cantrip Lorcan had broken when he opened it. He turned back to the other vampire.

“You’ll find that feeling again someday, Ruarc.”

“Yes, I will.” Lorcan smiled at him sadly. “Someday.” He finished his glass and laid it on the table. “Thank you for sharing this moment with me.”

“It was my honor.”

Lorcan pulled Nick close and then leaned forward to gently run his fangs down the line of Nick’s throat. “I’ve never wanted you as much as I do right now,” he whispered into Nick’s ear.

The Daywalker shivered at his touch, and then, growling, pushed Lorcan backward and began to uncinch his belt.

* * *

Only when Nick and Lorcan began to get more violent, their bloodlust mixing with sexual desire, did Jeremy withdraw his psychic probes from their minds and stop eavesdropping. Instead, he focused his thoughts on maintaining proper form as he continued his exercise routine. Vampires liked it rough, he’d discovered. It had taken all of his self-control not to intervene the first time he looked through Nick’s eyes and saw what Lorcan did to him in the dark.

That Nick plainly got off on it was bad enough, but the fact that Lorcan was so obviously in love with Nick just made it worse. Jeremy sighed, finished his crunches, and turned over to start his push-ups. Lorcan’s feelings were something of an open secret among Nick’s close associates, all of whom had tacitly agreed not to interfere. The only one who didn’t seem to have a clue was Nick.

Briefly, Jeremy considered whether he should let Nick in on the facts regarding his apparently casual relationship with Lorcan.
After all, Nick asked me not to hold back the truth, hadn’t he? That was the bargain—that I force Nick to confront the truths the Daywalker needed to see.
Somehow, Jeremy doubted Nick would thank him for this particular insight. And Lorcan?
Lorcan would cut out my heart and eat it.
Not that he was afraid of the Nightwalker. If he wanted to, he could kill or incapacitate Lorcan with a thought. In the end, however, the only person he’d be hurting would be Nick, and Jeremy wouldn’t do that.

He finished his final set and walked over to the couch in his living room, kicking off his shoes and lying down on the firm cushions.
Besides, taking Lorcan out of the picture would only push Nick right into Rory’s arms; that might not be a bad thing, but it would get messy if Rory were finally forced to choose between Nick and Takeshi.

Without doing a deep read on Rory, Jeremy couldn’t be sure which way that would go. So far, he had refrained from reading Rory’s mind, given the power the Traveler had at his disposal. It was entirely possible that someone like Rory, who had learned to draw on the strength of the Grace in the years since the Pact Arcanum, could detect Jeremy’s intrusion into his mind. That would be an instant death sentence. The Children of the Dawn would tear him to pieces for such a blatant slight to the Redeemer’s honor. Jeremy wasn’t afraid of them either, but if a Daywalker challenged him to honor combat as a member of House Luscian, it was conceivable that Nick might exercise his right to act as Champion and fight the duel himself.
Better not to risk it.

Another possibility bubbled up out of his subconscious, but he immediately dismissed it.
There is no way I would ever do that to myself. Why even think about it?

Jeremy looked at the clock, trying to stave off the depression that threatened to claim him. It was only 8:45 p.m., much too early for bed. It was going to be a long night. He looked around the relatively spartan room. The only thing breaking up the monotony of the living room wall was his degree, now hanging in a rich rosewood frame that had been a gift from Nick. Jeremy didn’t much care about the mementos of his largely wasted life, but Nick thought they were important, so he indulged the Daywalker. He smiled as he thought of Nick, the first real friendship he’d forged in as long as he could remember.