Shadow magic, p.29
Shadow Magic, page 29
Hannah nodded as she met his gaze, her expression sobering. “You didn’t move. Didn’t twitch. I was worried about you.”
Garran pushed himself up to a sitting position and Hannah rose at the same time. Two days? What had he missed? How were his people doing without him? He had much to do with Carden’s training before—before he used the power a third time.
And died.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
HANNAH STARED AT GARRAN, so many emotions causing her chest to tighten. After the talk with everyone last night, she’d come back to the room and had slept next to his still form again.
It had irritated her that the D’Danann insisted on posting Fae outside the door. A pair of warriors stood guard now and Hannah didn’t care that they had no doubt heard her and Garran having sex.
Garran shook his head as he pushed his hand through his now white-blond hair. “My people—the battle—Ceithlenn … What has happened during my … absence?”
“A lot.” Her stomach clenched and she shifted on the sleeping bags as she looked away from him. “We have so much to talk about.”
Garran caught her face in his hands and forced her to look at him. He looked grim. “From the beginning.”
Beginning? Goddess, it already seemed so long ago. “It started with all of the other witches scrying.” She brought her hands up to his wrists and pulled his palms from her face.
“You will scry again.” He clasped her hands in his. “Perhaps another mirror or some other divination tool. You are a D’Anu witch and you will continue to do as you always have done.”
The knots in her belly returned and she drew away from him and held one hand to her abdomen. “I’ve lost the only divination tools I’ve ever used. And at least two of the Dragons have abandoned me.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“When Ceithlenn captured me, I had just finished summoning the Dragons, my spirits, my totems.” Pain slammed into her so hard her head ached with it. “The Fire and Water Dragons made it clear they’d gone over to Ceithlenn’s side.” She tore her other hand from his and clenched both of her fists against her temples and her voice caught. “The Air Dragon wouldn’t help me. Only the Earth Dragon gave me some of its power.”
Hannah dropped her hands to her lap, her voice hoarse. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Garran. Goddess help me, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Garran took her into his arms and she let him, let him fill her with the strength of his presence, like chardonnay flowing through her veins, relaxing her a little.
“We will win this war together, you and I.” Garran’s words were spoken in a firm, resolute tone. “Together we are stronger and we will not let Ceithlenn destroy this city.”
Seeing Garran awake and well had pushed aside almost every other thought from Hannah’s mind. Every question, every concern … everything she’d learned … everything that had happened.
Hannah pushed away from Garran’s embrace, rolled over and got to her feet. His expression was puzzled as she stepped into her panties, pulled them up then grabbed her bra.
“How could you, Garran?” She kept her gaze focused on him as she reached around and fumbled with her bra hook. Bless it. Her hands were shaking. “How could you let that—that Guardian being give you the power to kill yourself?” She snatched up her T-shirt and held it in front of her, her hands still shaking. “And how could you not tell me?”
Garran’s jaw dropped and he just looked at her. Hannah jerked on her T-shirt as she waited for his answer.
He slowly got to his feet, shock evident on his features. “You cannot possibly know this.”
Heat burned Hannah’s cheeks as she yanked on her jeans one leg at a time. “Rhiannon and I went to see the Drow.”
Garran’s muscles bunched as his body tensed. “You went alone to my realm?”
Hannah had scooped up her socks and she paused and narrowed her eyes. “The other witches scried about the Drow attacking us and believed you had used a dark power to transport the Fomorii someplace where they’ll be able to attack us.”
She started to tug on her socks but went completely still as she studied Garran. His jaw was set, his eyes more a shade of steel than liquid silver. Anger rolled off him in tangible waves that made her shiver. “Is that what you think of me? That I would betray you?” he asked in a deadly quiet voice.
“In my heart … I—I trust you.” She fiddled with the socks and met his gaze. “I don’t think you would do anything to hurt us. I believed that once you made your decision to help in this war against the Fomorii and Ceithlenn you would keep to your word. I still believe that.”
His expression softened and he walked toward her. She backed up and he looked confused.
“Even though I feel that way, I’m angry at what you’ve done.” She raised her voice and heard the tremors in it. “How could you do something that might kill you?”
He pushed his hand through his hair again and his eyes looked tired. In that moment she could see centuries of life in his gaze, proof that he truly was an ancient being, no matter how young he appeared to be on the outside.
The memory of the nightmare came back to her—of Garran lying sightless on the ground as rain pounded his body. She swallowed. The nightmare had been so clear and she remembered it as if she had been right there—feeling the rain on her skin, watching the carnage as the demons ripped apart humans and Ceithlenn absorbed the peoples’ souls.
She blinked and found herself feeling an odd ache behind her eyes. “You can’t use that power again. You can’t.”
This time when Garran walked toward her, she didn’t back up. “Hannah,” he murmured. “What I will do … it will be the right thing.” He cupped her face in his hands and studied her as if trying to imprint her on his memory. The fact that he could die was like a punch to her gut.
She dropped the socks and pushed his hands away. “Don’t you start giving me some kind of self-sacrificing crap.” She clenched her hands at her sides. The vision, her nightmare, and the feeling deep inside her belly told her more than his words.
Garran turned away, went to the pile of clothing and began climbing into a pair of jeans. “It is not for you to concern yourself with.”
“Like hell!” Hannah’s whole body was on fire as she finished putting on her socks, unable to look at him. “You’ll leave the people you care about, who care about you, and the people who need you as your leader.” She shoved her feet into her shoes. “Already your being out of it has screwed things up royally.”
“What do you mean?” He walked back to her, grabbed her by her upper arms, and forced her to look at him. “What has happened?”
“Some of your people attacked last night, that’s what.” She placed her palms on his bare chest and pushed him away. “A lot of our own died—PSF officers and D’Danann—because of the Drow.”
Shock followed by outrage made his fair skin flush. “This is not possible.”
“A few of the Drow weren’t killed and are locked up.” She jerked her thumb in the general direction of the cells. The heat in her body made her words sound harsh. “According to them, they were following Vidar’s orders.”
Garran stilled. “Vidar?” The name was uttered like a curse. He fisted his hands. “Does he live?”
Hannah crossed her arms over her chest. “He’s in one of the cells, too.”
“I will kill him.” Still clad only in jeans, Garran strode to his gear, grabbed his sword by the hilt, and drew it from its leather sheath. The metal gleamed in the sunlight and the jewels on the hilt glittered.
“Stop.” Hannah blocked his way. “Two D’Danann warriors are guarding this door. Because of the Drow attack, they won’t let you out of here until you’ve been summoned for questioning. And then they have to decide if they believe you.”
The fury in Garran’s face was so great she took a step backward and bumped into the door.
“You fear me now?” Garran’s knuckles whitened as he grasped his sword. “You do not believe me?”
Hannah moved away from the door and went to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek against his chest. “I’m not afraid of you. And I believe in you.”
His body was so taut, so rigid. She held on to him even though she could feel the tremors his anger caused. She expected him to relax, to return her embrace, but instead he took her arms from around his neck and stepped back.
The loss of his touch made the knots in her belly tighter. Hannah’s palms itched with the desire to spell him for pushing her away. Maybe she’d even make it so he couldn’t move. That would serve him right.
She rubbed her forehead, trying to collect herself. These irrational thoughts were driving her crazy.
“I will not be held prisoner.” Garran brushed past Hannah and she could feel his cold, hard anger like ice against her skin.
“Wait.” She grabbed his sword arm as he jerked the door open with his free hand.
Garran shrugged her off as he looked from one D’Danann guard to the other. Each man had drawn his sword.
At that moment Garran looked more like a king than ever. His presence was arrogant, powerful, purposeful, with no fear in his eyes. Only anger and an expression that demanded respect.
“Escort me to Hawk.” A command.
“You must relinquish your weapon,” one of the D’Danann said without flinching.
Garran narrowed his gaze but handed the warrior his sword, hilt first. The men walked to either side of Garran and Hannah. The three men strode with the masculine grace of the Fae and Elves, but it was Garran who kept her attention. His long blond hair falling past his shoulders, the muscles in his back and biceps flexed as they walked toward the main part of the warehouse. The tight jeans molded his body, his bare feet silent on the concrete floor.
D’Danann and PSF officers watched him as he passed by with his escort.
When Garran, Hannah, and the D’Danann guards reached the strategy area of the warehouse, they came to a stop in front of Tiernan, Hawk, and Keir.
Hannah stepped to the side, prepared to defend Garran if she needed to.
Keir’s expression was openly hostile, one hand gripping his sword hilt. Tiernan folded his arms across his chest. Only Hawk appeared casual as he leaned one hip against the map table and met Garran’s gaze head-on.
“Explain why your people attacked ours.” Hawk’s voice was even, but an underlying tone of anger tinged his Irish brogue.
“I cannot.” Garran looked to each man as if assessing them one by one. “If what Hannah said is true, and Vidar led this attack, he acted on his own.” Garran’s jaw clenched. “I shall kill him myself.”
“How do we know you are telling the truth?” As a former Lord of the D’Danann High Court, Tiernan’s voice was more cultured, refined, his expression more unreadable than Hawk’s or Keir’s.
“Did I not save the life of your mate, Copper?” Garran asked Tiernan. “Did we not fight side by side against the giant of Underworld and against the beasts fleeing the door to that foul place?”
“It was you and your warriors who helped let the godsdamn demons out,” Keir growled. “You allowed Ceithlenn to escape.”
“This is true.” Garran’s expression didn’t change and his powerful, kingly presence didn’t diminish. “You also know that I realized I had made the wrong decision and turned the tide of battle against the beasts.”
“How many times are we going to go over that? It’s history.” Hannah pushed her way forward so that she stood in the middle of the formidable men. “What is important is the here and now. I was in the Drow realm when we discovered what Vidar had done. His people had nothing to do with the attack.” She glared at each man and almost shouted, “So let’s move on.”
She sucked in her breath. So much for keeping her cool.
All four men studied her. Tiernan finally nodded before speaking to Garran. “From the beginning, because of what you did for my mate, I have trusted your word. I trust it now, as well.”
“Then you are a fool.” Keir moved closer to Garran, crowding out Hannah. “Drow are naught but selfish, betraying bastards.”
“You’re talking about my father.”
Hannah turned to see Rhiannon glaring at her husband, Keir. Her cheeks were red and her Fomorii scars white against her cheek.
His features and his voice softened, as they only did with Rhiannon. “But can the Drow truly be trusted?”
She moved closer to him and tilted her chin up so that her eyes met his. “Do you trust me?”
He turned from Garran and reached up to run his knuckles over Rhiannon’s scars. “You know the answer.” She backed away from his touch and he frowned.
“Then listen to me.” Red still flushed Rhiannon’s cheeks. “You’re all wasting time posturing and acting like idiots when you should be taking care of the real offenders and planning together how to beat Ceithlenn.”
Keir only hesitated a moment before he released his grip on his sword. He turned back to Garran. “For my mate I agree to allow you to continue working with us and for the Drow to fight by our sides.”
Tiernan unfolded his arms. “I agree to this, as well.”
“As do I,” Hawk said.
The tension within Hannah relaxed and she let out her breath.
Garran’s expression was still proud, imperious even, as he took back his sword from one of the guards. “Show me where Vidar is.”
AS HE STRODE TO the cells, Garran’s grip on his sword hilt tightened as did the fury in his chest.
With Hawk, Tiernan, and Keir following him, Garran entered the darkened room where all light had been diminished due to the Drow inability to tolerate sunlight. With his keen vision he saw easily in the dark, his gaze traveling the cells where a few of his warriors remained. He knew these men, as he knew every one of the Dark Elves, including any child born into the realm.
Each man bowed from their shoulders in deference to their king. These were good men—why had they fought those working to eliminate Ceithlenn, against his orders?
Garran turned away from the men and met Vidar’s dark eyes, eyes that held no remorse, only anger. For a moment Garran simply stared at the man.
Garran had no one to blame but himself, and his muscles tensed further at the realization. At one time he had trusted Vidar, had thought to place the future of his people in Vidar’s hands should Garran die.
Truly Garran’s failure was in his arrogance—he had never thought he would pass from this world or his own to travel to Summerland and leave his people without a strong and just leader.
The fact, too, that he had erred in judgment with Vidar was a boulder of tremendous weight in his gut.
With his teeth clenched, he bypassed his other men and strode to Vidar’s cell.
The man had one shoulder hitched against one bar of the cell, his arms crossing his chest. His gaze slowly traveled from Garran’s white-blond hair, down Garran’s naked torso that exposed his daylight-fair skin. “So, you have taken the gift for yourself, I see.” Vidar smirked. “You claim to desire the light for all Dark Elves, but you have cheated all your people.”
“Under whose orders did you attack?” Garran demanded, his eyes narrowed.
Vidar shrugged. “I did what was necessary when you let down our people as king.” He pushed himself away from the bar of the cell and approached Garran. “You stole from me what was rightfully mine.”
“The blame lies with me—for not seeing you as you truly are, Vidar, until it was almost too late for our people.” The urge to reach through the bars and throttle the man with his bare hands was so great that Garran shook with the desire. “And still it was too late for what you have done.”
Vidar’s eyes were dark as obsidian against his blue skin and blatant hatred twisted his expression. “We killed many, but not enough. As a failed king, you should have died, as well.”
Garran’s arms trembled with fury as he thought of how satisfying it would be to behead Vidar. Garran forced himself to think as a king and not as a man filled with such rage he would strike down an unarmed prisoner.
Garran loosened his hold on his sword hilt. “I would choose your life as forfeit for being a traitor to the Drow. But I will allow those most affected by your treachery to select your fate.”
Vidar scowled and wrapped his hands around the bars. “The Directorate will agree that I acted for our people as you have not.”
Garran gave Vidar one more hard look, then turned and walked past the D’Danann and out of the room.
When he left the room and entered the main portion of the warehouse, he saw the sunlight had faded and looked down at his arms and chest. Even as he watched, his skin turned from fair to bluish-gray, and his long hair that had fallen over his shoulders shifted from white-blond to silvery-blue.
At one time Garran had thought that to walk in the daylight was the most valued thing any Drow would wish for. But now … they had made a world for themselves belowground and it was a good world. Perhaps he had been too consumed with the past to live for the present. His people, as well.
Once again he had to ask himself if he had made the right decision. He straightened and looked up at the dark windows. For his daughter, for Hannah, and for their people, yes. As a father and a lover, he could not be expected to ignore their needs for his own. Carden would make a good leader—and Garran hoped to have the opportunity to see to Carden’s further training before … before the final battle.
Angry voices came from the door to the warehouse as it was opened.
Carden and Hark.
Garran strode toward the Drow men flanked by D’Danann warriors. Two more Fae had their swords unsheathed and stood behind Garran’s men as they walked into the warehouse, fog swirling in the background.
“We will see the king and the traitor, Vidar,” Carden said in a voice befitting a Steward. A king even. Powerful, forceful, with justified anger behind it.
“You shall be taken to our leaders,” one of the D’Danann said. “At once.”
Garran had approached close enough that he could see Carden. The Steward had a proud lift to his head, his features no longer youthful but commanding. Hark stood at his side, looking just as much the warrior, but with his usual calm.
