Night Veil (7 page)
Authors: Yasmine Galenorn
But to Grieve, they were the magic key. He pulled me to him, his gaze searching my face. “You love me . . . how much do you love me? Enough to stay? Enough to marry me now?”
My breath caught in my throat. Marry him? The promise loomed lovely and brilliant and my heart skipped a beat. And yet . . . the image of my mother sprang up in my mind.
Krystal, strung out on heroin. On crack. On whatever she could get her hands on. Krystal, her dark eyes wide with fear, with the desire to forget who she was. It was me who kept us alive, ever since I was little. I’d learned how to survive. I’d kept myself off the dope and out of the bars. I’d learned how to pick pockets, to steal, to beg if need be. Together with Ulean, my Wind Elemental, I managed to keep us one step away from the cops and the pimps and the gangs.
If I left my mother . . . she’d die. She wasn’t prepared for the life into which she’d slid. I was the only thing standing between her and death.
I slowly turned to Grieve, torn. Wanting to say yes. Wanting to stay and live my own life. Wanting to come in from the cold. But . . . my mother was my mother. And she’d never come back to New Forest. She’d let me go, and then die cold and alone in some alley. How many times had she said, “Without you, I’d be dead. Cicely, never leave me. I can’t do it on my own. I need you.”
“I . . . I can’t. Not yet.”
He stared at me, a flash of pain shooting through his eyes. “Cicely . . . I need you. I need you to be with me. We complete one another. You are my soul mate. My only love.”
I stood, slowly. “My mother . . . she needs me.”
“You would choose your mother—she who has done nothing for you, who’s made your life a living hell? You would choose her over me?” He jumped up, cheeks flushing, voice bitter. “Are you toying with me? I wait for every summer, just to see you return home. The past few years, you’ve led me to hope for the future.”
His love was overwhelming, and even though it felt so right, I was afraid of how dark his eyes had clouded. “Grieve, I’m still young.”
“You are magic-born, not yummanii. You are older than your age. Cicely, I’ve waited all my life for you. I’ve waited a lifetime and more for you to find your way back to me, and now that you have, you turn me away?”
Shivering, I slowly backed away. “Just for a while . . . just till my mother gets herself settled—”
“And when will that be? She’s had you on the run eleven years. Is she showing any signs of getting better? Of finding her way in the world? She’ll keep you with her, a crutch, as long as she can.”
I choked up and waved my hands in the air, trying to make him realize how unreasonable he was being. But even as the words, “You’re talking about my mother!” came out of my mouth, I knew that he was right.
“I can’t promise when, but I will return to you,” I whispered low on the slipstream, and he heard me loud and clear.
“I need to know that I’m not waiting for a promise written on the wind. For a hope that will never come. I’d rather leave the Golden Wood than wait here, knowing I’ll never have you by my side.” He was angry now, and the hurt filled his face, making me feel horrible.
I turned, shaking my head, wanting nothing more but to forget my mother. Forget the streets. My wolf tattoo on my stomach was snarling and I reached down, trying to soothe it. Grieve paused, holding his breath.
I finally shook my head. “I promise I will return to you. But I don’t know when. I have to look out for my mother. I’m all she has.”
“Then go to her. Go to her now. Leave me with my pain.” He tossed the flowers he’d picked for me on the ground at my feet. “Go. Just go.”
“Grieve . . .” My words drifted off as he turned and slowly, head down, walked away from me, not looking back.
As a shadow passed over the wood, I turned and ran.
I should have gone back, talked it through with him, but I was young and afraid to fully trust anyone. I’d learned how dangerous it was, in my short years on this planet. And even though Grieve was standing there, heart on his sleeve, and I wanted to be with him, I knew that now wasn’t the time. I’d never trust him fully at this point—or myself.
Run, but never forget. Never forget him, Cicely. At the right time, you will return and your love for him will be fully grown, mature, ready to make promises.
I hope so, Ulean.
I shivered as I left the Golden Wood, my tears so dark they could not fall. It would be nine long years until I saw Grieve again, but I thought of him every day, and grew to understand just what I’d given up.
I shivered as I left the Golden Wood, my tears so dark they could not fall. It would be nine long years until I saw Grieve again, but I thought of him every day, and grew to understand just what I’d given up.
I closed my eyes and leaned against the shower stall. If only I’d stayed—could I have prevented the massacre out at the barrow? Could I have saved the Court of Rivers and Rushes? Could I have made a difference?
No.
Ulean was firm.
You could not have stopped Myst, and she might have destroyed you if you had tried. You were not so strong back then. You knew it wasn’t the right time. You did what you needed to.
Ulean was firm.
You could not have stopped Myst, and she might have destroyed you if you had tried. You were not so strong back then. You knew it wasn’t the right time. You did what you needed to.
I shook my head. She was right. In the two years I wandered around alone after Krystal died, I’d grown even stronger, more independent.
Stepping out of the shower, I reached for the towel. When I thought about it, Krystal had, in her own fucked-up way, prepared me for this. She’d taught me to trust only myself, to stand on my own two feet.
I toweled off, wandering around my room. A picture of Heather and Krystal on my desk caught my attention. Doomed sisters, my aunt and my mother. Were Rhiannon and I doomed as well? Were we fated to unhappy ends, to lose our loves, perhaps even our lives?
You are at war. War is never easy, and seldom pretty.
Ulean swept around me.
Try to stay in the present. Looking forward can do more harm than good, and looking into the past will merely make you melancholy.
Ulean swept around me.
Try to stay in the present. Looking forward can do more harm than good, and looking into the past will merely make you melancholy.
You’re right. I will be strong. I won’t let you—or my cousin or Grieve—down . . .
When I finally went downstairs, Rhiannon had left my breakfast on the counter. I could see her outside, sweeping the snow off the back steps.
Kaylin wandered into the room, dressed in camo cargo pants and a black wifebeater. His muscles were tight and defined, and he gave me a long look. “What have you been up to?”
I didn’t feel like talking. For one thing, I wasn’t sure what the hell had happened during my so-called dream. For another, even if I did, Kaylin would tell me what everybody else had: Forget Grieve, let him go and accept that Myst had won. And I couldn’t do that.
“Looks like Rhiannon made breakfast.” I slapped some toast and bacon on a plate, then added a hard-cooked egg and moved to the table.
Kaylin made an egg-and-cheese sandwich and joined me. “I heard about last night.”
Jumpy, I jerked my head up. “Last night?” Had I been making noise?
“Yeah, Lannan and everything. You need to talk?”
“Oh, Lannan. Right.” I was never sure what to think about Kaylin. He was 101 years old, a martial arts expert and computer geek, and he was also a dreamwalker. A night-veil demon had embedded itself into him, body and soul, while he was in the womb and had altered his very DNA. I thought he might be attracted to me, but I wasn’t sure if that was just him trying to be friendly or what. When Kaylin wanted to help, he could ferret out extremely private information.
I swallowed a bite of toast and licked the melted butter off my fingers, then told him about Geoffrey’s offer, and Lannan’s reaction. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to be a vampire, so I’m not interested in Geoffrey’s proposition. Nor do I want Lannan thinking he has some proprietary claim over me. I am indentured to the Crimson Court, not to
him
.”
him
.”
“You are walking a thin line. Lannan is not your master, but he holds the key to punishing you if you disobey Regina or Geoffrey. And he’s very good about creating infractions where there are none. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, but I sure wish you’d insisted on Geoffrey overseeing you.”
“Me, too.” I played with the bread, then shrugged. “Nothing I can do except deal with him the best I can. One day, though, I’ll stake him through the heart and that will be the end of Lannan Altos. But putting Perv Boy aside, I can’t imagine how badly they are going to fuck this up. They already screwed things over once trying to infect the Indigo Court. Look at how their plan backfired. Now . . . another attempt?”
“Stupid, really. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. And this antidote is definitely in the ‘fool me twice’ category. But we can’t do anything to stop them. Talk down a group of vampires and a Fae Queen? I don’t think so. We need them. And though Myst routed Lainule from her forest, the Queen of Rivers and Rushes is not to be trifled with.”
“No, but neither is Myst. Chatter still has nightmares, he told me. The blood from Myst’s routing of Lainule’s people stained the barrow red. And remember, he’s always been Grieve’s best friend, and he had to leave him behind. The Shadow Hunters have unleashed a horror on New Forest, even if the town doesn’t realize how much. Yet.”
“Eat.” Kaylin pointed to my dish. “We need all our strength because while they argue and plan in their mansions, we’re the ones sitting on the edge of hell. Is Peyton coming over today?”
I nodded, finishing off my toast. “We’re setting up the back parlor as my shop and her headquarters. We decided we might as well combine the two, especially since she’s only going to be working a couple evenings a week for a while. She still needs to help Anadey in the diner.”
“I think it’s a great idea to join forces.” He finished his breakfast and took my plate with his to the sink, where he ran a sudsy sponge over them. “So what’s next?”
“Lainule and Geoffrey told me to go about my business as usual and to stay away from Grieve. I guess . . . we figure it out as we go along, since they don’t seem interested in entertaining our suggestions. Mostly, we try to stay alive.”
The doorbell rang and I hopped up to go answer. It was Peyton.
Half werepuma and half magic-born, she took a lot of crap from the lycanthropes around town. Werewolves hated the magic-born and heckled us whenever possible. Peyton’s lineage was cause for ridicule in their circles, and she had endured a lifetime of it.
Peyton was half Native American; her father had run off years ago, leaving Anadey—a shamanic witch who used all four elements—and Peyton alone to fend for themselves. Peyton had grown up strong. Though soft-spoken, she was an expert in martial arts and she wanted to open a magical investigations agency.
“Hey, lady,” I said, inviting her in.
She was carrying a box, and I took it from her and set it on the floor. “I come bearing gifts from Mother. Ready to get the office in order?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I motioned to her and we headed back to our headquarters.
The room we were using for our joint operations was the back parlor. It was papered with pale roses and old coiling ivy vines; the floors were hardwood and the ceilings vaulted. A bay window faced the side of the house away from the Golden Wood, and built-in shelves covered one wall.
With room for two desks, as well as several display cases, both Peyton and I would have plenty of space. We’d managed to wheedle a good price on the display cases from a shop going out of business, and we’d each provided our own desk—Peyton had taken one of her grandmother’s antiques, and I’d confiscated one I found in the attic at the Veil House.
Other books
Surrender to Darkness by Annette McCleave
Good Mourning by Elizabeth Meyer
Escape by Elliott, M.K.
Diana by Laura Marie Henion
Hexad by Lennon, Andrew, Hickman, Matt
A Free Man of Color by John Guare
The Englisher by Beverly Lewis
Lucid by Adrienne Stoltz, Ron Bass
Cursed Love: Cursed Love (Cursed, #1) by snyder, t. h.
A Talent For Destruction by Sheila Radley