Shadowbound (30 page)

She said as much to Jonathan, who laughed. “Come with me.”

He led her to a very short side corridor that dead-ended in a locked door, which opened into a downward flight of concrete stairs. At the bottom, there was another door—this one with a security panel. The whole setup reminded her of David’s server room.

Jonathan grinned at her and fed the panel a numeric code, then touched his index finger to a small scanner. The red light over the door changed to green, and Miranda heard a deep metallic click.

The door slid open to the side—the effect was very
Star Trek
, and she wondered if David had been involved in the security measures. Jonathan beckoned for her to follow and hit a switch that brought up the lights one by one.

She crossed the threshold and gasped.

“Okay, this is more like it,” she said.

They were in a rectangular room whose walls were lined with drawers and niches . . . dozens and dozens of niches, each one displaying a weapon of some kind. Swords, daggers, crossbows, axes, spears, knives of every possible description . . . most of them she didn’t recognize, though there was an entire bank of swords that looked very much like the ones she, David, and Deven all carried. Whereas the weapons in the Gallery represented most of history, what was in here was obviously meant to be used; most of it was of modern design, dozens of styles of each type.

“What does this do?” she asked, patting the top of a small machine that looked like it belonged in a woodshop.

“It’s a stake sharpener,” Jonathan said with a grin. “Much faster than doing it by hand—there’s another one in our Elite armory.”

“Do the Elite get their swords from here?” she asked, wandering around the room and gently pushing in drawer fronts, which caused them to click open. Each weapon had a card beside it detailing its type, country of origin, year crafted, designer or smith, and its name if it had one. Most of the finest-looking swords, which were on the wall instead of in drawers, had names; smaller pieces didn’t. She read them to herself:
The Darkened Star. Silver Rain. Shadowbreaker. Stormfire.

Jonathan was smiling. “The Elite have their own armory. This is Deven’s private collection—he’s used every single one of these. Many of them were custom made for his hand. A few he checks out to Red Shadow operatives when they need something special. That’s why we’re underground—this is millions of dollars we’re looking at, and some of his most valued possessions. Needless to say they had to be kept someplace fireproof and secure.”

Hearing that, Miranda felt a little guilty being here without Deven; it was like she had gotten past his shields and was poking around in his head.

“David has a room like this, only it’s full of servers and computer equipment,” she said.

“We have one of those, too. As you can imagine, your Prime insisted on climate control for our system. In fact, there are three subterranean rooms; the third holds documents, what few archives we found when we got here, and a few other things Deven wanted kept secure.”

They took the stairs back out; the door to the armory slid shut as they left, and she heard the lock reengage as the light turned back to red.

“Now for something completely different,” Jonathan said. “Down this hallway is our suite, but when you’re back in yours, look for a door that leads outside; it’ll be behind a curtain you can pull back if you want. It leads out here . . .” He led her to a pair of French doors, and out.

Again, she gasped. The view was quite literally breathtaking.

She walked up to the wall that stood between them and the cliff and stared out in silence for a while. She loved the Texas Hill Country and loved her Haven, but to live in a place with this view . . .

“All those trees,” she said. It didn’t feel appropriate to speak louder than a reverent whisper. “You know . . . this feels exactly like the sort of place Deven would live.”

Jonathan chuckled. “Do you think so?”

“Yeah. Are there big forests in Ireland? I can’t remember.”

“I think places like this are in his blood.”

Miranda put her hands on the wall in front of her. “Blood . . .”

Jonathan seemed to be waiting for her to say something, but when she did, apparently it wasn’t what he was expecting.

“My sister,” she said. “Her daughter. My bloodline. I just wish I knew what it meant. I know in my gut the answer is in the Codex, but Novotny hasn’t had any luck translating that runic alphabet, and even David couldn’t work it out. He’s sent out messages to any contact he could find who might know an Elysian, but there hasn’t been a word yet. So we’re just . . . waiting. We’re always waiting.”

He reached over and put a hand on her shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. Nobody forced these madmen to declare war on us.”

“What do you think it means?”

“I do have a theory. I don’t think we’re interchangeable, but . . . suppose a Pair of us were Bondbroken, leaving one alive and going mad. What if somehow the empty space in the Circle could then be filled by someone else of the dead Signet’s bloodline—not as a replacement for the dead, but as someone to fill the gap in the Circle long enough for us to defeat Morningstar? That’s a lot of ifs, but if there were even the
possibility
, Morningstar would have to hunt down anyone who could potentially fill that empty space. Otherwise killing one of us wouldn’t guarantee victory.”

“But now it will,” Miranda said with a nod. “Now we’re all we’ve got.” She stared out at the trees for a while before adding, “Maybe it’s just as well. If Jenny was the only one, that means she’d replace me, which would mean I’d be dead. Even if somehow David survived that and wasn’t insane, I can’t imagine making him live without me. I know what that feels like. I survived his death, and I was willing to keep going, but . . . if some random guy had shown up wanting to take his place, even without bonding to me directly . . . I don’t think I could have lived that way.”

Jonathan shook his head. “It seems to be an awful lot for Persephone to ask of us . . . it wouldn’t be fair, or right. But I guess there are a lot more lives in the balance than just ours.”

Miranda suddenly realized she’d brought both of them down with her brooding, when they should be celebrating. She shoved the thoughts of Morningstar away; there would be plenty of time to deal with that after this weekend. For just a couple of days, maybe they could all simply enjoy each other’s company.

“Okay, enough of that,” she said. “Let’s get back to the matter at hand. Tomorrow’s your wedding, Mr. Burke. Do we get cake?”

He laughed. “No, none of that. Really, the ceremony’s barely going to be worth putting on a tux. After that Deven wants to go dancing—there’s a hunting ground in the city that’s already Signet affiliated so it’ll be easy to secure.”

“That sounds like fun,” she said. “I’m still kind of amazed you got him to do this.”

“I honestly thought he’d say no,” Jonathan admitted. “But at the time . . . seeing him go through that again, thinking it was going to get worse . . . I had to try.”

“How is he now?”

“He’s been fine since then. I know I overreacted, but when I think of watching him fade away again, I panic. I would do anything to save him from that . . . but all I can do is be a battery for this power-web Nico made to hold him together. I feel utterly helpless. In that moment all I could think of to do was propose. Silly as it sounds now, damned if he didn’t say yes.”

She watched the emotions play over his face. “I guess he was pretty surprised.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” Jonathan grinned, his levity returning. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but . . . he cried.”

“No way!”

“Yeah. Then he dragged me to bed for nearly five hours of very intense and enthusiastic sex. I could count the number of times that’s happened on one hand. He’s been way more affectionate in the last couple of years, but still, this was different. Apparently the promise of a ring lit him on fire.”

“You really got to him,” Miranda said. “Good for you.”

She heard another door open behind them and turned in time to see Deven and David emerge from the house. David came to stand behind Miranda, wrapping his arms around her and watching the view with her for a moment; Deven and Jonathan did much the same.

“Do you feel reassured?” Miranda asked.

David actually nodded. “We made some adjustments, but the plan Dev came up with is rather inspired.”

“So shouldn’t you guys be having wild bachelor parties or something?” Miranda looked over at the Pair. “Strippers, booze?”

Deven smiled. “I can see naked men any time I want. And I have better booze here than I could get at a strip club.” He tilted his head back to look up at Jonathan, giving the Consort the opportunity to kiss him on the nose. “What about you?”

Jonathan gazed down at him adoringly. “I’d rather be here with you. Not to mention with our friends, who’ve come all this way to watch me make an honest man out of you.”

The Prime laughed. “No ritual in the world could do that, my love.”

Miranda couldn’t help but grin broadly at the two of them—she so rarely got to see them being cute. Pretty soon Jacob and Cora would be here, and . . .

“Guys,” she said, “We should make sure Olivia doesn’t feel weird being the only single person here. It’s got to be hard enough already, being Prime alone.”

David kissed her ear. “I’m glad you thought of that, beloved. I guess that means shagging out here on the terrace is off limits.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Miranda replied. “A lot of people would enjoy watching that.”

“Like who?”

Deven and Jonathan each raised a hand.

Miranda giggled. “See?”

“Hell, let’s do it right,” Deven said. “We’ll all come out here, throw down some tarps, and have a nice orgy.”

“Not tarps,” Jonathan suggested. “Twister mats.”

They were all laughing when the Haven Steward called Deven.
“Sire, the Pair of Eastern Europe has arrived.”

“Thank you.” Dev took Jonathan’s hand and pulled him away from the wall. “Come on, love, let’s go say hello and get them settled.” As they reached the door, Deven called over to them, “We’ll pick up the Twister mats on our way back.”

 • • • 

When they left the Haven the next night, David took a moment to scan each of the two limos for explosives; Morningstar didn’t usually use them, but a bomb would have been an ideal way to eliminate any of them instantly, and they did seem to get blown up on an alarmingly regular basis. He even did a quick visual inspection to satisfy his own nerves.

The courthouse was full of Elite, and the Signets all Misted from the car into the building so there was no way they could be shot disembarking as Varati had been. It wasn’t without its costs: Olivia wasn’t a strong Mister yet and ended up being very loudly sick in the ladies’ room when she materialized.

David smiled sympathetically at her when she emerged still faintly green. “You’ll get used to it,” he said. “It looks like you’ve got pretty good control already. It’s just the vertigo that you have to conquer.”

Despite her nausea, Olivia gave him an appreciative look. “You look really hot in a tux.”

He grinned. “Not so bad yourself, Prime.”

She was wearing a lovely forest green dress that set off her gray-green eyes and even had her dreads pulled up elegantly, showing off the intricate tattoos all over her shoulders.

Before either of them had a chance to feel awkward, the courthouse door opened and one of the Elite guards came in with Cora’s Nighthound, who did not respond well to Misting. He handed off Vràna’s leash to the Queen, bowed, and went back outside.

Cora, too, looked beautiful in her shining royal blue with her dark hair falling down over her back, and he told her so in Czech, which made her blush. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Even surrounded by such beauty, it was Miranda who made his heart skip. She had chosen another dress in the same violet shade as the one she’d worn to the Council ball, and just like that night, neither of them could look away from each other. She walked up to him, and they joined hands.

“Are the boys ready?” she asked.

He looked around; Jonathan was talking to the justice of the peace, but Deven was nowhere in sight. It felt a little strange to be in an empty government building at night—it was just them, their numerous guards, and the JP. David walked over and asked Jonathan, “Where’d he go?”

“There’s a little room over there where the bridal party usually waits,” Jonathan replied. “I think he went in there to have a panic attack.”

The courthouse had a chapel, but Deven had said “absolutely not” to that, so they had opted for another room set aside for nonreligious weddings; it was small and fairly unadorned, with a few seats and, against the back wall, a studio piano that looked like it had been constructed at the same time as the building. The room was big enough for perhaps twenty guests. In this case there were five guests and a dog, or, as Jacob had told the human security officer, a “service animal.”

David followed Jonathan’s gesture and poked his head into the little side room, which was lit with candles and lined with mirrors, all showing nothing but the opposite wall.

Deven stood staring into one of the mirrors. When he heard the door open he turned toward David. “I just needed a minute.”

David came to stand in front of him. “Cold feet?”

He shook his head. “It’s funny . . . this is the one rite of passage I never expected to take part in. I know we’ve been together for sixty years, so it’s not as if we weren’t already committed, but . . . it just feels different, somehow. I don’t think it really hit me until we got here. I’m getting married, David.
Me.
I have no idea what to do with that.”

David laughed, understanding perfectly. “Believe it or not, I felt the same way, and it was just me and Miranda with Faith as a witness. We weren’t even dressed up—she said she didn’t care about a wedding, she just wanted a marriage. I kept telling myself it was just a human convention, that it was our Signet bond that mattered . . . and I was wrong. It
was
different. Not more important, or stronger, just different.”