Dying Wish: A Novel of the Sentinel Wars (20 page)

“I didn’t let you. No one knows.”

“I must advise Joseph.”

“You can’t. You gave me your word.”

Tynan’s mouth lifted in a sneer of contempt. “You tricked me.”

“Just like Jackie tricked me. We both want the same thing here, Tynan. I just need you to help me make it happen.”

“Your death would free her.”

“I know. If that’s the only choice…” He let his words trail off before the monster beat its chest, screaming that it would never surrender.

“What am I supposed to do?” asked Tynan.

“There’s got to be something. All I need is to be whole again for one moment—that’s all it will take to free Jackie.”

Tynan’s brows drew down in thought over his icy eyes. “If I agree, if I do this thing, I’ll want payment.”

“As much blood as you need for as long as I live.”

“Done,” agreed Tynan.

Iain’s vow threatened to buckle his knees. He gritted his teeth and suffered through it. “Now,” he told the Sanguinar. “Do it now.”

Tynan smiled. “With pleasure.”

Tynan wasted no time acting. He went straight for Iain’s throat, sinking his fangs into the other man’s flesh. He drank deep, willing the Theronai to sleep so there was no fear of violence.

Madoc had broken Tynan’s neck not long ago, and that was not the kind of thing easily forgotten. Tynan
took no chances now, especially not with a soulless warrior of Iain’s skill.

Iain went limp, and Tynan eased his bulky body to the floor. Power roared inside of Iain, and as Tynan drank that power in, his hunger disappeared and his body expanded with strength. He took as much blood as he dared, knowing that combat was only hours away.

Then again, if Iain was too weak to fight well, he’d fall in battle with no one having to know about his soul’s dead state. He could enter the Hall of the Fallen with honor, his life’s work intact and unblemished.

As much as Tynan hated the idea of causing Iain’s death, he wasn’t above doing so. Jackie was the important one in this equation. She was the one he had to protect at all costs so that her children could come into this world and save Tynan’s people from starvation.

He still hadn’t had time to digest the news that his cure had worked. All of his people would rejoice at the news. More Theronai children changed everything.

Tynan forced himself to address the task at hand and see if Iain was as bad off as he feared. He closed the wounds on Iain’s throat and ripped open his shirt.

There were several leaves left on his lifemark, but there was something wrong about them. They were still and hollow, as if dead. Perhaps it was the same kind of magic that had held Madoc’s soul’s decay in stasis for so long, giving him the time he needed to find Nika.

Tynan ran the tip of his finger over one leaf, concentrating on it. That’s when he felt the metallic tinge of pigment.

The leaf was a fake—a tattoo meant to fool others.

Anger coalesced deep within Tynan’s chest. How dare Iain endanger their lives by lying like this? He could have snapped and begun killing those inside Dabyr at any moment. The fact that he hadn’t was a testament only to his stubbornness.

Tynan plunged into Iain’s mind, not even trying to be gentle.
This man didn’t deserve gentle. He was a danger to all of them.

He wove his way through Iain’s thoughts, seeking out his intentions. Rage slammed into him, nearly knocking him back into his own body. There was so much of it, and it rose up in threatening waves, looming over everything, crashing around so violently that Tynan had no idea how Iain could stand it.

With a force of will, Tynan gathered that rage and shoved it aside, allowing him room to pass. What was left inside of Iain looked like the burned-out shell of a bombed building. There was no structure there, only charred clutter and chaos. His thoughts were a jumbled mass of greed, violence, and lust. It was a wonder that he hadn’t already hurt the people around him.

Over everything was a shimmering film of something Tynan had never seen before. As he inspected it more closely, poking at it with a tentative thought, he realized what it was. Rules, order, honor.

Iain had indeed been holding himself in check for all this time, controlling his actions so that his emotions didn’t come through.

And there was something else, too. A tiny, shining ribbon, as thin as a strand of hair, wove through the dark chaos, glowing wherever it passed. As he prodded it to see if this was some hint of a soul, he felt a distinctively feminine energy pass through him.

Jackie. This was her—the connection she had to Iain through the luceria.

Perhaps he could sever it here, freeing her.

Tynan funneled a small bit of power at the ribbon, testing it to make sure he wasn’t going to hurt Jackie with his actions. As he sent that spark sailing into it, it flinched, jerking away from his touch as if he’d burned it.

Clearly, that idea was not going to work. He couldn’t risk Jackie.

Iain was another story.

Before he made his final decision, he had to be sure of the man he was sentencing to death. There could not be so much as a flicker of his soul left, or what Tynan was about to do would be unforgivable.

He went searching deeper, letting his consciousness fan out in all directions, seeking out some hint of life left inside of the man. The deeper he went, the more chaos and rage he found. Dead tendrils of what had once been Iain’s soul branched out, swirling and trying to wrap around Tynan’s essence. He dodged the attacks easily, moving deeper until there was nowhere else to go.

A giant black mass loomed where Iain’s soul should have been. Tentacles made of oily blackness snaked around, writhing in agony.

There was nothing left. No flicker. No spark. Nothing. All that was here was dead and rotten.

A thick tendril lurched toward Tynan as if seeking prey. He moved out of the way, and as he did, he saw a minuscule fleck of something. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it glowed against the darkness, standing out in stark contrast.

He moved to get a better view and saw the ribbon.

Jackie’s ribbon.

She wove herself through the tentacles, wrapping around and around until she was knotted about the pulsing, dark mass, binding herself to it. As he watched, she looped herself around yet another sinuous tentacle, spiraling around it as if she wanted to be close. Wherever she touched, the tendrils quieted, as if going to sleep.

Tynan reared back in shock, landing hard inside his own skin. He didn’t know what that meant. Surely, if she was embedded that deeply, she’d have felt the dead thing rotting away inside of Iain.

Wouldn’t she?

More important, if she was lodged that deeply, what would happen to her if Iain died?

Tynan looked at Iain’s ring. It was snowy white, with only the faintest hint of gold moving within. Their bonding wasn’t complete.

Good as new.

That was not going to be easy to accomplish. The few minor scrapes and bruises were easy enough to fix. Tynan did so with a mere thought, now that his body was fueled with the power of Iain’s blood. When there was nothing left to fix physically, the only thing he could think to do was use peacebinding magic on Iain. It was common enough for his kind to force a promise from those they healed so they could never raise their hand against them in the future. The practice was useful for when the occasional wars between the races broke out.

Or for when one of the Theronai lost his soul.

If Tynan couldn’t break the bond between them, and he wasn’t sure what Iain’s death would do to Jackie, then at least he could prevent the warrior from doing anything to harm him. That would give him time to work on the problem and research it. Perhaps this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.

It was Iain’s rage that was the immediate concern. No man could walk around with that much anger and not act on it eventually. If he could get rid of the rage, then Jackie would be safe. At least for now.

So that’s what Tynan did. He gathered up as much of the pulsing rage as he could, and drew it into himself. There was no other way to get rid of so much at one time. He was going to have to bear the burden and hope that his years of exercises in self-control would pay off.

Iain’s fury hit him hard, making him cry out in pain. He felt like he was trying to swallow an electrified coil of razor wire. It lashed around within him, battering at its confines, seeking a way out.

Tynan reached for his power and did what he could to shove the violent anger inside as small a space as possible. The effort left him shaking and weak, lying on the
ground, panting on his back, but at least he could breathe again.

Iain woke with a groan. He leaned over Tynan, his brow etched with confusion. “Did it work?”

Tynan could barely speak. His throat was tight and his insides felt ruined. “I can’t break it. I’d hurt her.”

Iain let out a long sigh of resignation. “I can’t let you do that. I’ll find another way.”

There was only one other way. Iain’s death. “Soon,” said Tynan. “She’s tying herself to you. If she grows close and you die, it may be years before she chooses another man.”

The Theronai nodded his agreement. “I feel different. Better. What did you do?”

“Nothing,” lied Tynan. “Go. I need to rest.”

“You look sick. Did I hurt you?”

“Go!” he shouted, feeling the barrier around Iain’s rage bulging under the strain.

Iain stood and left. Tynan pushed to his feet as soon as he was sure Iain was out of earshot, and began smashing furniture with his bare hands.

J
ackie flopped onto the bed and fell into a hard, fast sleep without even taking off her shoes. She jerked awake a short time later, sure that something was terribly wrong. It was as if someone had taken a cattle prod to her brain.

She had to be imagining things. There was no one around, and she was simply reacting to the excitement and stress of the past twenty-four hours. She’d tied herself to a man she barely knew, been attacked—twice—and walked away from a chance to help, like the coward she was.

Sleep was going to be impossible now. She didn’t have to close her eyes to know that images of stolen children and ravenous demons awaited her.

Something was wrong. She could feel it. Iain was hiding something, and despite her request that he stay out of her head, she continued catching herself using the connection she had to him to poke at his mind, seeking answers.

Every time she realized what she was doing, she jerked back and scolded herself for being such a hypocrite.

In those few, small glances she’d had, she’d felt anger—so much of it that it overshadowed everything else. She wasn’t sure what had happened to make him so mad, but whatever it was, he hid it well.

Which only served to make her wonder what else he was hiding.

Jackie found some fresh clothes sitting inside of her doorway. She didn’t know how they got here, but she was grateful for something clean to wear.

She stripped out of her clothes, pausing when she automatically moved to take off her necklace. Of course it didn’t come off, but it seemed odd wearing it in the shower—like she was toting a small piece of Iain along with her.

Then again, if he were here, she doubted she’d be thinking about much of anything beyond getting her soapy hands on his body. And if the man’s kiss was any indication, she wouldn’t be thinking at all—just feeling.

Even now, the mere memory of that kiss had the power to make her skin heat and her nipples harden. She wasn’t going to forget that anytime soon, no matter how much distance he tried to shove between them.

She made quick work of her shower, dressed, and went in search of a distraction. Being around Iain was too much stimulus, but being alone gave her too much space to think. Now that she was spoken for, she felt like she could leave her suite and go in search of food. No more hiding in her room for fear of who might grope her.

Even though it was well before dawn, Jackie found a few people gathered in the open dining and recreation area. People at Dabyr kept odd hours in support of the Sentinels, making sure the place stayed running, even at night.

An elderly woman sat sipping coffee and reading a book, alone on one side of the room. For some reason, Jackie felt an instant kinship with her, as if they were both able to be alone even when surrounded by people.

“Can I sit down?” she asked the woman.

“I assume your legs function well enough. Or did you mean to ask if you
may
sit down?” The woman’s mouth
was painted red, with lines of lipstick fanning out into her wrinkles. A yellow pencil held her heavy bun in place at the nape of her neck.

Jackie tried to hide her grin. “May I sit down?”

“Please. Helen’s told me a lot about you.”

“You know Helen?”

The woman nodded. “I’m Mabel Hennesy. Miss Mabel to most people here. Your sister and I have been friends for a few years. She brought me here.”

“Helen made you live here?”

“At first there was a bit of a fight, but I find it suits me. It’s nice to be teaching again, though after all those years, I wouldn’t have thought I’d miss it so much.” She marked her place in her book with a silk ribbon and closed it. The pages were thick and yellow with age. The cover was worn leather, stained dark by the touch of many hands. There was no title, only an embossed tree sprawling across the cover.

“You teach? Here?”

“Someone’s got to pound some sense into those teens’ heads. I don’t need my walker anymore, but I make sure the troublemakers know I still know how to use it.”

Jackie wasn’t sure what she meant, but it seemed rude to ask, so she let it go.

“I haven’t seen much of you since you came to live with us,” said Miss Mabel. “Helen said that Logan and Tynan weren’t able to take your memories of what happened away, like they did with the little ones.”

“I didn’t let them. There’s no way I’m letting anyone else have my blood.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad having an attractive man put his mouth on you. You should try it sometime. Made a world of difference for me.”