“Hoo-whee! You lucky I came along,” William Farmer said.
“Yeah,” Sebastian muttered. “Lucky.”
“Don’t usually pick up strangers this close to a bridge. Can’t never tell what might be crossing over from another place. But you look like a regular fella.”
The farmer spent a minute making various noises at the two horses pulling the wagon, which didn’t seem to have any effect on the animals. It certainly didn’t increase their speed.
Travel lightly. Sebastian closed his eyes and tried to feel grateful that the farmer had offered him a ride. Even if he’d followed the cart path that had led from the bridge, he could have spent days trying to reach Wizard City, getting detained one way or another over and over again. His reluctance to get anywhere near the wizards was at odds with the knowledge that it was what he needed to do. But Ephemera responded to the heart, not the head, so the landscape would have provided obstacles to keep him from reaching the city, turning the journey into a battle of wills—his against Ephemera. He still would have reached the city eventually, but the people he’d left behind in the Den didn’t have time for eventually.
So when he’d reached the spot where the cart path joined the main road at the same moment the wagon was passing by, he’d accepted William Farmer’s offer of a ride for what it was—a sign that the journey would go smoothly if he didn’t turn away from the gifts that were offered.
No one ever said gifts like this came without a price.
But, he thought with a sour glance at the farmer, if he had to listen to the man hoo-whee all the way to Wizard City, the price of this particular gift was a bit steep.
“You really going up to Wizard City to talk to a wizard?” William asked.
“I am.”
“Hoo-whee! Don’t know as I’d want to do that. They’s not like regular folks. Don’t matter that they’s the Justice Makers. Got that magic in them that makes them different. Wouldn’t want to be jawing with the likes of them.”
Sebastian looked sideways at William. “Have you ever seen a wizard?”
“Seen ’em, sure. They prowl the marketplaces in the city from time to time just like everybody else. But never talked to one—and hope I never do.”
Something—a change in inflection, a shift in the way William held himself—made Sebastian look at the man more closely.
“Why do you do that?” he asked, curious.
“Do what?”
“Talk like that. You’re not a hayseed.”
“What makes you think I’m not?” William sounded indignant.
Sebastian smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. “You try too hard. The hayseeds I’ve run across always give themselves away, but they try to talk better than they do at home. You roll in the words like a…” He couldn’t think of anything to compare it to that wouldn’t be an insult.
“Like a pig in muck,” William said.
Sebastian tipped his head. “All right.” He paused, then added, “You may be a farmer, but you’re not a hayseed.”
William was silent for the first time since he’d picked up Sebastian. Finally he said, “Are you going to rob me?”
“I’m not a thief,” Sebastian snapped. “Besides, robbing you after you gave me a ride”—Wouldn’t be a kindness—“would be wrong.” He studied the farmer in the dusky light. The clothes were sufficiently worn-out to be a practical choice if a man was going to spend a day traveling along muddy or dusty roads—or they could have been the best clothes the man owned. As soon as he’d heard William speak, he’d assumed the latter. And any would-be thief, after listening to William for a minute, would figure there was nothing easy to steal and either endure the chatter for the length of the journey or escape at the first crossroads that offered an excuse to leave.
All in all, it provided a camouflage against potential predators that didn’t change the resonance of the man’s nature, like a rabbit whose fur changed from brown to white to better match the land when summer turned to winter.
Sebastian looked over his shoulder at the baskets of fruits and vegetables that filled the back of the wagon. “Isn’t there a market closer to your home? You said it’s a day’s journey to the city.”
William nodded. “And today it was a long day’s journey. I usually reach the city well before sunset. Guess those delays were meant for a reason.” He shrugged. “I sell half of what I harvest at the market in my town. The other half I bring up to the city.”
“Why?”
“It’s a kindness.” William hesitated. “Someone told me that what you give to the world comes back to you. I guess there’s truth in that.”
Sebastian looked away. The waning daylight was enough to travel by, but not enough, he hoped, for the farmer to see his face clearly.
He remembered Glorianna, with those clear green eyes focused on him, telling him the same thing. What you give comes back to you, Sebastian. It’s not tit for tat—life isn’t that simple—but what you give always comes back to you.
His heart ached. He missed his cousins. Especially Glorianna. There was a bond between them, something more than he felt with Nadia or Lee. Nothing…carnal. Never that, despite his nature. But her words had always sunk deep into his heart, had been the reason he’d learned to consider human needs as well as his own when he hunted as an incubus. Hearing her words coming from a stranger…
No matter what landscapes she might be walking now, no matter what she might be doing as a rogue Landscaper, Glorianna Belladonna wouldn’t bring terrifying death into a landscape. Guardians and Guides, the world held enough of its own terrors without unleashing more.
“It’s like this,” William said. “A few years ago, things were bad. The farm is good land, and I worked hard, but I could never make things what they could be. Crops were poor, and I couldn’t get a decent price at the market. I turned to drink, and I turned mean. Stone-hearted, I guess you could say. Blamed my neighbors, blamed the merchants, blamed the land. Blamed everyone and felt sorry for myself.
“So one day I packed the wagon and came up to Wizard City. The merchants laughed at the country farmer, and the price offered for what I had in the wagon…Might as well throw it in the street as take what they were offering.
“It was close to sunset, and I was on my way home, since I couldn’t afford to spend the night in the city. I picked up this girl walking along the road. Was going to drive by, but she lifted a hand and asked if she could have a ride to the next bridge. Said it would be a kindness.”
William shook his head. “Don’t know why I stopped. I wasn’t feeling kindly toward anyone. But I gave her a ride. She asked about the produce in the wagon, and I spoke my mind, poured it out like I was draining a festering wound.
“When I was done, she said, ‘There are people in the city who could use the food in this wagon. The poor in the outer circle. The children who are outcast for one reason or another, who feed on despair and never know the sweet taste of hope. A stone heart can only harvest stones. What you give to the world will come back to you.’”
“And I said, ‘Who says so?’ and she said, ‘I do.’”
“‘And who are you?’ And she said—”
“Belladonna,” Sebastian whispered.
William nodded. “Didn’t know what that name meant. Not then. But after I let her off near the next bridge—almost the same place where I met up with you, as a matter of fact—I turned the wagon back to the city. Went to a poor section in the outer circle and sold off my produce for pennies.
“Some of the youngsters couldn’t even scrape up a penny between them for a handful of fruit and a few vegetables.”
Sebastian swallowed hard. There had been times when he’d been one of those children—running wild in the streets, as cunning and dangerous as animals. Then Nadia would arrive and take him back to her home for a few weeks or months—until Koltak showed up and the cycle started again. The children in Aurora, Nadia’s home village, knew what he was, and their name-calling and taunts revealed a nature more vicious and cruel than any creature he’d met in the Den, but being with Nadia meant being with Lee and Glorianna. Their love and acceptance couldn’t erase the cruelty, but without that tempering, he would have become the kind of incubus that was feared—the kind that thought of humans as nothing more than prey.
“So I told them they could have the food in exchange for doing a kindness for someone else,” William continued.
When the farmer didn’t say anything more, Sebastian prodded. “What happened?”
“Things changed,” William said quietly. “Not all at once. It doesn’t happen that way. But I brought up a wagon of produce each week once the land started to ripen and sold it in that section of the city. And things started to change. The children who paid for the food I gave them by doing a kindness for someone else helped old shopkeepers by sweeping the sidewalk or cleaning the shops. Some began to learn the merchant trade and were given cots in the back rooms and food as pay.
“Things changed for me, too. The land became richer. What I brought to the home market got a better price, and I began to prosper. One day at the market, I met a fine woman who wasn’t too proud to be a country farmer’s wife. We’ve got two children now, and that’s a wonder to me.” He paused and cleared his throat, as if emotions and memories had choked him for a moment.
“It’s still a poor part of the city, but it’s different now. Troublemakers aren’t comfortable there and don’t stay long. Folks look beyond their own doors these days and give their neighbors a helping hand. And I still bring a wagon of produce each week once the land ripens.”
“Did you ever see her again?” Sebastian asked.
William nodded. “Couple years ago. I was selling my last bushel of apples, and this woman held out a penny and smiled at me. By then I knew who she was, what she was, how dangerous she was. But I tell you, I don’t care what other folks say about her. She gave me a chance to change things the day I gave her a ride, and nothing but good has come from it.” He raised a hand and pointed. “There’s the city’s south gate. I’ll be turning off once we get past it. Will you be able to get on all right after that?”
“I know the way to the Wizards’ Hall,” Sebastian replied.
The land around them wasn’t flat, but the hill upon which Wizard City had been built dominated the countryside, as if some massive creature swimming beneath the surface had suddenly arched its back. No, more like a giant dog stretching its back and front legs in an invitation to play and pushing the earth up with its movement. The hill sloped gradually on this side, giving people enough of a foothold to build houses and spiraling roads that led to the plateau where the Wizards’ Hall and Tower looked down on the rest of the city. The other side of the hill was too steep for anything but pasturing sheep and goats.
They drove through the south gate in the high stone wall that circled the hill. William stopped his horses long enough for Sebastian to climb down.
“Travel lightly,” William said.
Sebastian nodded. “Thank you for the kindness.” He watched the wagon until it disappeared around a curve. Then he strode in the opposite direction toward a courtyard that was as old as the city.
In the beginning, the courtyard had been a place for meditation, for quieting one’s heart and thoughts before climbing the Thousand Stairs to Justice. Now it was flanked by barracks for the hard-eyed guards who kept order in the lower levels of the city, and he doubted if anyone who lingered in that tired place, with its dying trees and weed-choked flower beds, found any peace there.
He didn’t know if there had been a thousand stairs when they had been created or if someone had called them that because it sounded impressive. There wouldn’t be a thousand now, since the roads that were built afterward eliminated some of them, but it was still a climb that tested the strength of a man’s legs—and his determination to reach the top.
And it was still the fastest way up to the plateau where the wizards, the Justice Makers, reigned.
He heard the bell chime nine times as he stepped into the courtyard. Guards who had been lounging against the buildings straightened when they saw him. Ignoring them, he settled one strap of his pack over his shoulder and strode to the back of the courtyard as if he had every right to be there.
And he did. Anyone could petition the wizards for help. Of course, asking for help wasn’t the same as getting any.
The moment his foot touched the first stair, the guards lost interest in him. Wizards’ magic supposedly had built the stairs and still resided in them. It was said that the audience was merely a formality, that the wizards knew all that was needed about the petitioner by the time the person climbed the last stair.
He didn’t believe that was true. Even so, as he climbed he tried to empty his mind of everything but moving from one stair to the next. He didn’t want to remember the other times he’d been in this city—or the one and only time he’d seen the Wizards’ Hall.
But his muscles tightened, his heart pounded, and the despair and bitter anger that had colored so much of his childhood was a heavy rock strapped to his back with chains forged by cruel words.
He’d climbed these stairs once before.
How old had he been? Five? Maybe six? Just lingering at the edge of the street where he lived, as much to get away from the latest woman who was looking after him as to watch three girls playing catch with a bright-colored ball. He watched them, drinking in their laughter and happiness, unaware of his own nature or why their emotions made him feel as if he were gulping down cool water after being thirsty for so long.
A girl missed the catch, and the ball rolled right to him. He picked it up, and as he looked at the girls, he felt their happiness change to wariness. He knew what other boys would have done—kept the ball, since it was the kind of pretty toy rarely seen in this part of the city, or thrown the ball hard at one of the girls to scare her or hit her so she’d cry. But he wanted to hear the girls laugh again, so he tossed the ball gently to one of them. They studied him a moment, then went back to their game. But when the ball came around to the one who had missed it before, she motioned him forward and tossed the ball to him. And the triangle of girls became a square of four children playing catch and having fun.
Then the woman stomped out of the building and dragged him inside to the cramped, smelly rooms he called home.
She screamed at him about the demon inside him and the depraved nature she’d been told to watch for. Then she hit him, her heavy hand cracking across his face hard enough to send him to the floor.
But he’d scrambled to his feet, dodged past her…and ran until he reached the courtyard and the Thousand Stairs to Justice.
Some of the other women who had looked after him had been a little kinder. They’d told him his father was an important man, a wizard. But children weren’t allowed to live in the Wizards’ Hall, so he had to stay with them. He’d accepted that, had never questioned their explanation.
He raced up the stairs, his young legs fueled by anger. He hadn’t seen his father often, and the feelings that flowed out of the man made him uneasy, but that didn’t matter now. His father was an important man. His father was a wizard. And his father, after learning how mean the woman had been, would take him someplace else to live.
Yes, that’s what would happen. He would go live in a nice house with a kind woman who didn’t yell at him all the time or say bad things about him or hit him. And maybe there would be children to play with. Children who liked him, who wouldn’t call him names.
The need for that kind woman and those children swelled inside him, blotting out the anger. Hope filled him as he raced up the stairs.
When he finally reached the top of the stairs and ran along the path that led to the street and the high stone walls beyond, a vine of doubt curled around the hope and tried to smother it.
How was he supposed to get inside and find his father? What if he went inside the Petitioners’ Hall and asked for Koltak and the other wizards just sent him away? He had to get inside!
Then luck, or fate, or the nature of Ephemera gave him the opportunity. A man walked out of the wrought-iron gate next to the Petitioners’ Hall and gave it a negligent shove to close it. The gate stopped a hand-width away from locking.
He ran across the street and pulled the gate open just enough to slip inside. A different world, with more trees and greenery than he’d ever seen. He wandered along the paths, his father momentarily forgotten. It was so clean here. No smell of garbage or sour bodies.
Then, hearing laughter, he turned and made the discovery that changed his life.
Boys, not much older than him, running along another path toward the buildings at the other end of the courtyard garden. Boys. Living at the Wizards’ Hall.
He could have lived here, in this clean place—if his father had wanted him.
He stepped off the path and sat down next to a bush, curling up as much as he could to keep from being noticed. He cried silently while all the cruel words that had been said to him over the years took root deep in his heart.
Hearing footsteps on the path, he curled up tighter. But the footsteps stopped suddenly, the person stepped off the path and came around the bush—and he looked up at a woman with dark hair and dark, angry eyes. He flinched at the anger pouring off her, but when she crouched down, her voice was gentle.
“Who hit you?” she asked.
“The woman,” he muttered.
“Your mother?”
He shook his head. “The woman I lives with. She…keeps me.”
“Are you an orphan?”
Another head shake. “Don’t know my mother. My father…he doesn’t want me because I’m an incubastard.” He wasn’t sure what that was, but he knew now it was the reason he would never live in a clean place with kind people.
“What’s your name?”
“Sebastian.”
“I’m Nadia.” She hesitated, studying his face, staring deep into his green eyes. “Are you Koltak’s son?”
He nodded.
“Well, then. I guess that makes me your auntie.” She stood up and held out her hand. “Would you like to come live with me, Sebastian?”
The anger inside her had faded to sadness, but the warmth and kindness beneath the sadness, at the core of her, dazzled his young heart.
Getting to his feet, he took the offered hand—and the two of them walked away from the Wizards’ Hall.
Opportunities and choices. That was how Aunt Nadia explained how the currents of power worked. When a person made a heart wish, that wish resonated through the currents and things would happen to give the person an opportunity to make that wish come true. Like a gate not closing all the way. Like a woman, distressed and angry over the disappearance of her husband, hurrying down a path and stopping suddenly at the exact spot where a boy, who had the same green eyes as her own children, was hiding. Like a hand offered—and accepted.
Sebastian shook his head as he continued to climb.
Travel lightly. Think of something besides the past. Think of sitting in Philo’s courtyard on a summer night, drinking wine and watching the ebb and flow of people looking for a taste of the dark side. Think of sitting in Nadia’s kitchen, a room that felt bright and warm on even the dreariest day. Think of Nadia’s birds, those bright, playful little chatterheads. Travel lightly—or this place will swallow you whole.
His legs burned by the time he climbed the last stair. His heart burned, too, but not from exertion.
A cobblestone path cut between the stone walls that protected the houses of the wealthy who now shared the plateau with the wizards, leading to the street. Directly across the street was the Petitioners’ Hall—the only entrance common folk had to the part of the hill the wizards considered their exclusive domain.
As he crossed the street, he glanced at the structure that dominated the right-hand side of the wizards’ estate.
The Tower was the oldest structure in the city, and even now, centuries after it had been built, wizards still walked sentry duty, still kept watch.
For what? What had they once feared that they had built on the highest piece of land in this landscape? What did they still fear that they continued to keep watch?
He shook his head and banished those thoughts. Wizards claimed they feared nothing. He knew that wasn’t true—at least, not for the last fifteen years. Which was the only reason he risked entering this city.
The Petitioners’ Hall was connected to the wall surrounding the wizards’ private domain, separated from the buildings that made up the Wizards’ Hall by the expansive courtyard and garden he’d wandered through so many years ago. It still looked open and friendly with all its trees and greenery—if you didn’t consider the fact that only one gate next to the Petitioners’ Hall provided a way back into the rest of the city.
He opened the door of the Petitioners’ Hall and stepped into a long room. Stone floor, stone walls, and unadorned wooden benches that were, no doubt, uncomfortable if anyone had to sit on one for very long. The room was lit by oil lamps suspended from the ceiling, which had to burn all the time, since there were no windows to let in light. The place felt cold and hard as the stone it was built from.
He left the door open, more to give himself a way to escape than to indicate discourtesy, and strode to the desk at the back of the room.
Here there was some luxury. The big wooden desk gleamed in the lamplight. Beneath it was a pool of thick carpet that would keep the cold damp of stone from seeping into the feet of whoever was on duty.
Tonight it was a surly young man who closed the book he’d been reading and folded his hands over it. The badge he wore on his robe declared him a second-level wizard to anyone who knew what the symbols stood for.
“I need to see Wizard Koltak,” Sebastian said.
“It’s late,” the young wizard snapped. “Wizard Koltak isn’t on duty this evening to see petitioners. Take a seat and I’ll see who—”
“Nevertheless, Koltak will see me.”
The wizard looked outraged. “And who are you?”
“Sebastian. From the Den of Iniquity.”
The surly look gave way to fascinated revulsion. So. This one had heard the stories that had been whispered in the student quarters—and perhaps still were. A lesson for the lusty and foolish.
The wizard grabbed a small piece of parchment from the stack on the corner of his desk. Snatching up the quill and dipping it into the inkwell, he didn’t notice that he dribbled ink on the desk’s gleaming wood. Hurried scribbles. The ink barely had time to dry before the wizard folded the parchment and shouted, “Boy!”
A boy dozing on a bench close to the desk scrambled to answer the summons. The folded parchment was handed off, and the boy dashed out the door in the back of the room.
Your pen dribbles. A simple phrase that held a wealth of meanings when an incubus said it. It was tempting to see if this young wizard would find the call of an incubus more alluring than that of a succubus, but he already had enough enemies among the wizards.
So he just gave the wizard a lazy smile that suggested traveling to reach this place wasn’t the reason he looked disheveled.
A few minutes later, the boy dashed back into the room, breathless, and handed a folded piece of parchment to the wizard. The man looked startled as he read the command, but he said, “The boy will lead you.”
Giving the wizard an insolent salute, Sebastian followed the boy out the back door and across the courtyard. Instead of going through the door of the main building, the boy turned to the right and led him to another door.
The hair on the back of Sebastian’s neck rose as he noticed that the windows on either side of the door had a queer sparkle in places where the light from the courtyard lamps touched the glass. Wooden shutters were folded back on the outside of the windows.
The boy pushed the door open and entered the dark space.
Sebastian heard the clink of glass against metal, then the scrape of a match. Staying in the doorway, he watched the boy light the candle and replace the globe over the metal candleholder.
When the boy turned to leave, Sebastian stepped into the room to let him pass. But when the boy reached for the handle to pull the door closed, some instinct made Sebastian grab the wood and growl, “Leave it open.”
The boy bolted into the night.
Not sure why he’d responded that way, Sebastian looked at the door—and felt a shiver run down his spine.
No handle on this side. No way for a person inside this room to open the door.
Slipping his pack from his shoulder, he set it against the door and went over to one of the windows, alert for any sound in the courtyard.
Thick glass that extended into the stone. A mesh of wire embedded in the glass. Even if someone managed to break the glass, he still wouldn’t be able to escape through a window.
Turning, Sebastian studied the room. A table, two chairs, and the globed candleholder. No other visible means of exiting the room, although there probably was a hidden door or other kind of opening.
What it all meant was that once the door was closed, the only way a person could leave this room was if someone on the outside opened the door.
His hands trembled as he went back to the door and picked up his pack. After settling it over his shoulder, he shifted so his back wasn’t completely exposed to the courtyard. At least he’d have some warning if someone tried to rush him and shove him into the room.
A scrape of boot on stone. Sebastian scanned the courtyard. The place looked so open, but the lamplight played with the surroundings in such a way that there were patches of deep shadow that could hide anything.
“Why are you here?” a harsh voice said behind him.
Sebastian whipped his head around to look into the room and felt a muscle in his neck twinge in protest. He swore silently as he realized he’d been caught by a sleight of hand. There was no one in the courtyard, but that magical distraction had allowed Koltak to slip into the room without revealing the location of the hidden door.
“Did you hear that I was finally being considered for a seat on the Wizards’ Council and decided to remind everyone of why I’ve been passed over all these years?” Koltak kept his voice low, but that didn’t diminish the venomous tone.
I don’t give a damn about you or your ambitions. “I came here to report an incident to the Justice Makers,” Sebastian said, keeping his voice just as low. “I asked for you because I thought you would prefer it rather than have me talk to another wizard.”
“The Justice Makers have no interest in the Den of Iniquity or what goes on there,” Koltak said.
“Even when a human is murdered?”
Koltak hesitated, then made a sharp, angry gesture with his hand. “Come in then. You may think nothing of making your affairs public, but things are done differently here.”
“I’ll stay where I am.”
Spots of color blazed on Koltak’s cheeks. “What do you think I’ll do? Lock you in this room and deny you were here?”
“If you could get away with it, you’d do it in a heartbeat,” Sebastian snapped.
“As if anyone would care if you disappeared.”
“One person would.”
The unspoken name—and the threat—hung between them.
Belladonna.
“We think the woman who was killed came from a wealthy family. She always wore a wide gold bracelet.”
“Every wife of a prosperous man wears a gold bracelet,” Koltak growled. “What did she look like?”
“I don’t know! There wasn’t enough left of her face to describe it!”
Koltak paled, but Sebastian couldn’t tell if it was because of what he’d said or because he’d raised his voice.
“Listen to me, Koltak. Something came into the Den that is brutal and vicious. It killed a succubus a few days ago. Now it’s killed a human woman.”
“Maybe it will wipe the Den clean and stop all you demons from luring decent humans into doing things that will ruin their lives.”
“It’s not just demons who live in the Den. And I’m half-human, remember?”
Koltak’s lips pulled back in a rabid snarl. “There’s nothing human about you!”
Sebastian looked away. Apparently those heart-wounds hadn’t scarred over enough after all. Then he forced himself to look Koltak in the eyes. “You’re right. How could there be anything human in me with a succubus for a mother and you for a father?”
“Get out!”
He took one step back, which left him standing on the threshold. “There’s something out there, Koltak. The Den may not be its only hunting ground. I did what I was supposed to do. I reported this to the Justice Makers. If you do nothing because I was the one who came here, then the blood of the next person who dies will be on your hands, not mine.”
He stepped out of the room, unwilling to turn his back on the man whose seed had helped create him—the man who hated him for existing.
When the door swung shut, hiding him from Koltak’s view, he pivoted and moved across the courtyard as fast as he could without running. He had to get off this hill, get out of this city. Wizards ruled here, commanded the guards. He could be detained, locked away.
It felt like forever before he reached the wrought-iron gate next to the Petitioners’ Hall. When the gate resisted his efforts to open it, his chest tightened until he struggled to breathe.
Trapped. Was Koltak watching, exerting his will and wizard’s magic to keep the gate closed until…? Until guards showed up and decided a man who couldn’t get out of the courtyard must be dangerous and should be detained for questioning. Or, worse, Koltak would appear and tell the guards to take him back to that room for questioning. Latch the shutters and close the door—and no one but Koltak would know he was trapped in that room. Oh, the guards would know, but they wouldn’t care what happened to an incubus who had dared enter the city.
Detain him. Contain him. Kill him.
He had to get out of here!
Travel lightly, travel lightly, travel lightly.
Sebastian took a step back from the gate and closed his eyes.
A simple gate designed to open only from inside of the courtyard. A simple latch that might be a bit rusty. That was all. A simple gate that would open easily at his touch. Then he would leave this courtyard, leave this city…and go home.
Sebastian opened his eyes and reached for the gate. A gentle tug. A click as the lock slid back.
The gate swung open.
His heart pounded, but he walked through the gate and headed for the Thousand Stairs, keeping his pace easy, as if he were strolling the main street of the Den.
As he reached the stone path that led to the stairs, he glanced back—and saw guards hurrying toward the Petitioners’ Hall.
They have no interest in me, nor I in them, beyond simple curiosity, Sebastian thought. His stride lengthened, despite his efforts to appear unconcerned that the guards might notice him. My business in the city is done. I’m going home to enjoy a meal and a pleasant evening with friends. I’m going home. To the Den.
No hue and cry sounded behind him, and by the time he reached the stairs, he was trembling with relief. He paused at the edge of the stairs to give himself time to regain his composure—or as much as he could while he was still within the city walls. No point getting away from the Wizards’ Hall if he took a spill down the stairs and ended up with broken bones that would leave him helpless.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he put his foot on the first stair for the descent that would begin his journey home.
Koltak watched the guards mill around the courtyard gate. No point slipping a suggestion beneath their surface thoughts a second time. There was no longer anything tangible for them to deal with to confirm the “instinct” or “intuition” that had compelled them to check on the gate beside the Petitioners’ Hall. Even if he gave them another nudge, Sebastian had too much of a lead now and could elude any guards long enough to get out of the city.
Stepping back into the room, he closed the door, then snuffed out the candle. He walked to the back wall and, with the experience of the years he’d lived within the Wizards’ Hall, touched the concealed latch for the hidden door.
As soon as the door swung open, Koltak slipped out of the room, then paused long enough to make sure the door was securely locked before hurrying along the corridors that were used mostly by the servants.
He gave silent thanks to whatever Guide was watching over him that he made it back to his suite of rooms without running into anyone who might wonder why he’d been coming back from the direction of the Petitioners’ Hall—and the detention rooms.
Not that the other wizards would wonder for long. By morning, they’d all know who had asked to see him. It would have been different if he could have contained the problem, but…
Koltak stared out his sitting room window. It didn’t face the right direction, but he stared anyway, as if that alone would somehow locate Sebastian before he got out of the city. Again.
For thirty years he’d been punished for that indiscretion, that weak hungering for the kind of sexual gratification that made human women little better than a container for a man’s seed. Plenty of wizards had indulged themselves with succubi. Plenty. But their liaisons hadn’t threatened to topple the power structure that gave wizards a place in the world, that made them the Justice Makers.
How could there be anything human in me with a succubus for a mother and you for a father?
Just words flung out in anger. Sebastian didn’t know the truth. Couldn’t know what his existence meant.
Secrets tightly held within the Wizards’ Hall were flaunted daily because that whelp had been born. Oh, most of the citizens wouldn’t realize what it meant that a mating between a wizard and a succubus had borne fruit, but the wizards knew it branded them for what they were.
Something not quite human. Beings whose ability to influence minds sprang from the same roots as the seductive power the incubi and succubi unfurled to attract their prey.
We’ve paid for our secrets. We pay every day by keeping order, by standing for justice. We’ve paid.
But tonight, the thing he’d personally feared the most had finally displayed itself.
Sebastian was not only an incubus; he also had some measure of the wizards’ kind of power. He couldn’t have opened that gate otherwise, couldn’t have shrugged aside Koltak’s mental persuasion so quickly that there wasn’t time for the guards to arrive.
If the other wizards realized Sebastian controlled the same magic as the Justice Makers, everything he, Koltak, had done for the past thirty years to make up for his lustful mistake and prove himself worthy of the kind of authority he’d always craved would have been for nothing. So there really was only one thing to do.
Somehow, some way, Sebastian had to be eliminated once and for all.
Sebastian was a stone’s throw beyond the city’s southern gate when he heard the bell ring twelve times. Midnight. The city gates were locked at midnight, and no one could enter or leave until the following dawn.
A shiver of relief went through him. Turning east, he struck off across the open land. Not that it would make any difference if Koltak ordered guards to come after him on horseback or on foot, but being off the road made him feel like he had a better chance of getting away from this landscape before his father—he let out a quiet, bitter laugh—found a way to force him to remain.
Besides, if he went back along the road, there wasn’t a closer bridge than the one he’d crossed to get to this boil on the world’s backside. Out here, there were bound to be other bridges. They might not take him back to the Den, but they would get him away from here, and that was the most important thing right now. Except…
If he was delayed in getting back home, who else might die in the time he was away?
He had to get back to the Den!
He’d put a fair distance between himself and the city when a veil of clouds covered the moon. He froze, unwilling to shift his feet. The land suddenly felt soft and strange, as if it were strewn with hidden traps. Which was foolish. He’d spent the past fifteen years in a landscape that never saw the sun rise. He was used to traveling at night.
But that was different. He knew the dangers that lived in and around the dark landscape he called home. Out here…There was something wrong out here.
A chill went through him. His skin felt clammy, as if he’d brushed against something that had smeared some kind of illness inside him.
Trying to shake off the sensation, he listened for any movement or sound that would confirm the wrongness. All he heard was the burble of water. He forced himself to move, and, following the sound, he found the creek. It was narrow enough that a man could scramble down the bank and jump across the water, but there were two rough planks stretched from one bank to the other. Since the planks didn’t look sturdy enough or wide enough to support the smallest cart, there was only one reason for them to be there.
A Bridge had put those planks across the creek, using that particular magic to create a link between landscapes.
Sebastian studied the planks. Had to be a resonating bridge. Those were the ones that tended to be in places that were found more by chance than design. Which meant he could end up anywhere the moment he stepped off the other side of the bridge.
Just cross over, Sebastian thought as he hooked both arms through the straps of his pack and settled it comfortably on his back. You can’t end up in any place that doesn’t live in your heart. Isn’t that what every child is taught? That a person is where he deserves to be? Isn’t that what Koltak always said when he dragged you back to that thrice-cursed city? But Nadia always said life was a journey, and the landscapes reflected the journey. That even when bad things happened, the journey eventually would lead a person where his heart needed to be.
He looked back toward Wizard City. He hadn’t deserved to be caged inside those walls simply because he’d been born and the succubus who had birthed him handed him over to his father instead of leaving him somewhere to die. He hadn’t needed the cruelty or pain that had shaped his childhood.
But if he hadn’t been shaped by those things, would he have known Nadia or Lee or Glorianna? Would he have ended up in the Den, a place where he belonged?
Sebastian shook his head. Pointless thoughts. An exercise in self-indulgence.
Then the feeling of sickness shuddered through him again. The memory of feeling sand beneath his feet instead of the hard ground of the alley made him shiver. And with every second that passed, the conviction grew stronger that if he didn’t cross the bridge now, he might never again see a landscape he recognized.
“Guardians of the Light and Guides of the Heart, please listen to me,” he whispered as he set one foot on the planks. “I need to get back to the Den. I need to get back to the Den.”
He hurried over the bridge.
Night. Open land. Nothing significantly different enough to tell him where he was—or even to indicate that he had crossed over to another landscape.
Get away from the bridge.
His body was in motion before he could decide on a direction. Maybe because there was only one direction that mattered—away.
In this flat, undulating form, It flowed beneath the surface of the land as easily as It flowed through water, moving swiftly toward the mound of earth. It had found the Dark Ones—the ones who had opened up the darkness in human hearts and had forced the world to bring It into being.
Then It slowed, circled, headed back to that finger of water that was too insignificant to hold any of the creatures It controlled.
For a moment, as It had passed the water, It had brushed against something…familiar.
Nothing there now. And yet…
It reshaped a piece of Itself. A tentacle broke through the soil, rising up like some strange, malignant weed. The tip explored, found the planks that still resonated with the heart that had recently crossed over to a different place. More of the tentacle emerged from the soil, elongating as the tip moved across the planks.
Yes, It recognized the resonance of this heart. One of the ones who had eluded Its attempt to alter the alley in that dark hunting ground called the Den.
The tip reached the other side, pressed into the dirt to feel the resonance of this other landscape.
Ah! It recognized this place. It had hunted in this dark landscape recently. The creatures who lived there had been a delicious feast, although not as savory as human prey.
Nothing was as savory as human prey.
Its power flowed through the tentacle. Pulsed in the tip that pushed into the ground.
The world struggled to resist Its dark resonance, which surprised It. It probed a little more, trying to tap into the Dark currents that flowed through this landscape. Then It withdrew, wary now. Almost afraid.
A powerful resonance flowed through the Dark currents. Something much stronger than anything It had found in the lair made by the enemies who had caged It long ago.
Unwilling to yield completely, It tried again, pushing the tentacle back into the ground near the wooden planks.
Just a small bit of darkness, It wheedled. A change that won’t even be noticed in a dark landscape. Something that will protect this place from dangerous hearts.
Ephemera hesitated. Then the world surrendered a small circle of ground near the bridge—a piece now malleable to Its will.
Perhaps that was for the best. A small anchor would be hard to detect by whatever heart flowed through this landscape, but that anchor would be enough to give It access to this place.
Careful to conceal Its glee in having tricked Ephemera into giving up a piece of itself, no matter how small, It reshaped the ground to provide an access point into one of Its own landscapes.
The tentacle tip withdrew from the soil. The ground in front of It lifted slightly, revealing sod covering a latticework of sticks that formed a trapdoor big enough to fit a full-grown man. Two large legs emerged from the trapdoor, testing the ground around the burrow.
Satisfied that It had a way into this landscape, It drew Its tentacle back across the plank and reshaped it to match the rest of Its current form.
Then It turned and headed for the mound and the minds that resonated so closely with Its own. It was time to slip into that twilight place between wakefulness and dreams. Once the Dark Ones knew It had returned, It would be that much closer to regaining what rightfully belonged to It.
The world.
Tired and thirsty, Sebastian trudged up another low rise. He still didn’t know where he was, had seen nothing but open countryside since he crossed over at the bridge. At least the trees he’d passed didn’t look alien, even in the moonlight, so there was hope that he’d crossed over to a landscape that had some connection to the Den.
As he headed down the other side of the rise, a black horse pricked its ears and ambled over to meet him—and he knew where he was.
It was a beautiful creature, but its looks didn’t make it any less a demon. Seeing the waterhorse confirmed he was in a dark landscape that bordered the Den. Unfortunately, it also confirmed he still had a long walk ahead of him before he got back to the Den itself.
Sebastian kept walking, aware that he could be ensnared by the demon’s magic as easily as any human. But the waterhorse suddenly lunged, blocking his path. Its nostrils quivered, as if it wanted to get a good whiff of his scent but was afraid to get within reach. Which was queer behavior for one of these demons. They usually wanted to entice humans into taking a fatal ride.
Moving slowly, Sebastian held out his hand. The waterhorse stretched its neck, bringing its muzzle close enough to snuffle him. Then it stepped back, tossed its head, and headed toward a glint of water.
When Sebastian didn’t follow, the waterhorse returned.
Sebastian shook his head. “I know what you are. I’m not going near water with the likes of you.”
The waterhorse tossed its head. Stamped a foot.
“No,” Sebastian said.
A whicker that sounded sad. Almost a plea.
Not knowing what to make of the demon’s behavior, he looked toward the glint of water—and felt a sick certainty that he already knew what the waterhorse wanted him to see.
He moved blindly toward the water, not even realizing his hand now rested on the waterhorse’s neck. They stopped close to the remains of something dark and bloated that rested on the bank of the large pond. He tried to move closer but couldn’t do it. The waterhorse had used its particular magic to bind his hand to its neck, preventing him from getting too close to the edge of the pond.
Not that he really wanted to get closer. Guardians and Guides, this was a pond, probably fed by small streams. The waterhorses were the creatures to be feared in this landscape. But something had not only killed a waterhorse; it had ripped out great chunks of flesh. Feeding.
The waterhorse’s body quivered as it backed away from the pond, pulling him with it.
No humans would regret the death of a waterhorse. After all, those demons drowned any humans foolish enough to ride them.
But the way that body was ripped up…
How many predators had found their way into the dark landscapes? And where had they come from?
“I…” Sebastian cleared his throat. “I have to get back to the Den. I have to tell the others about this.” He tried to step away from the waterhorse, but his hand was still ensnared in its magic.
It turned its head and studied him. Then it released its hold on his hand. But when Sebastian started walking away from the pond, it blocked his path.
“What do you want?” He was tired, hungry, frustrated, and scared. Oh, yes. He was scared. He didn’t need another demon playing games with him.
The waterhorse tossed its head, then lifted each foot in turn.
Four feet that weren’t tired. Four legs that could run faster than his own.
“You’re offering me a ride?” Sebastian asked.
The waterhorse bobbed its head.
“No tricks? No gallops into deep water to drown me?”
Head shake.
“Why?” He knew the answer before the waterhorse turned its head to look at the pond. They’re scared, too.
He wasn’t used to riding horses, and he mounted with little skill and no grace. The waterhorse didn’t seem to care, and as he felt the tingle of magic ensnare his legs, he acknowledged one advantage to riding this particular mount—unless a waterhorse chose to release its prey, a person couldn’t fall off.
So they raced over the land and splashed through streams until Sebastian saw a cairn. As they passed it, he felt the tingle that meant they’d passed through a border and were now in another landscape.
Borders and boundaries, Glorianna called them. Boundaries separated one kind of landscape from another—or the landscapes controlled by one Landscaper from those controlled by another Landscaper—and could be crossed only by using a bridge. Borders marked the places where similar landscapes belonging to a Landscaper were connected, despite how much physical distance existed between them.
That was the way things worked in Ephemera. A man might not be able to cross a bridge to reach a neighboring village if he didn’t resonate with that particular landscape, but he could cross a border and walk through a village in an entirely different part of the world.
A few minutes later, they were racing along the edge of a cliff Sebastian recognized—just as he recognized the lake. He felt the waterhorse hesitate, no doubt tempted by the combination of deep water and a rider. But it kept to the land instead of looking for a way to scramble down the cliff. Shortly after that, the waterhorse slowed to an ambling walk and stopped at the door of Sebastian’s cottage.
They could still hear the lake performing a slow dance with the sand and stone on the beach.
The waterhorse sighed—and released him.
Sebastian slid off its back, grateful for its help and wary of its nature. “Thank you,” he said, moving around the other demon until he had his hand closed around the handle of the cottage’s front door.
It watched him for a moment, then turned and trotted back the way it had come.
He’d intended to drop his pack and head out for the Den, but a lingering scent of woman made him check the other rooms in the cottage.
He found Glorianna’s note next to the bag of koffea beans.
Sebastian,
There’s something I need to see in another landscape. Then I’ll be back. We need to talk. Be careful.
No signature. She never signed her notes. Not even with an initial. Since he saw her so infrequently anymore, the unsigned notes made her seem less…real.
Considering what the wizards and other Landscapers thought of her, maybe that was her intention.
But—daylight!—the note meant she’d been close by. If he’d waited a few hours before riding out to Wizard City, he could have talked to her instead of facing Koltak.
A shiver went through him. He rubbed the back of his hand over his forehead. Was he ill? He certainly didn’t feel well. But that could be nothing more than a sick feeling in his gut caused by seeing Wizard City again—and remembering things he tried hard to forget.
He rode Philo’s bicycle back to the Den. As he coasted up to the courtyard, he wondered how long he’d been gone. Were the daylight landscapes now passing into another evening or just beginning to see the sunrise?
Since the Den never saw sunrise or sunset, what did it matter?
Admit it. You were disappointed that you hadn’t seen daylight. That’s one of the reasons you were willing to go to that city. To see the world in daylight. To feel the sun on your face. Didn’t happen, though. Hasn’t happened in years. After all, an incubus is the kind of lover women only want to meet in the dark.
Feeling unsettled, and trying to ignore the craving for the hunt growing inside him—a craving that was sharper than anything he’d felt in weeks—Sebastian walked the bicycle to the storage shed at the back of the courtyard. Teaser sat at a nearby table. Since there were plenty of tables available, the other incubus must have chosen to avoid the flirtatious games that usually took place at the tables closer to the street.
Which wasn’t like Teaser at all.
“Why aren’t you out trolling?” Sebastian asked as he pulled out a chair and sat down.
Teaser gave him a pale imitation of his usual cocky grin. “Wasn’t in the mood for it.” He raised his half-empty mug of ale, then pointed a finger at Sebastian.
A few minutes later, Philo came to the table with a full tray. He set down two mugs of ale, a bowl of melted cheese, and a basket of Phallic Delights.
“He’s been swilling ale for hours now,” Philo muttered, not looking at either incubus. “Get him to eat something before he’s so drunk he can’t even manage a blundering grope.”
Teaser snorted. “Like I’m interested in playing slap and tickle.”
Sebastian, reaching for his mug, froze for a moment. Teaser wasn’t interested? Teaser?
“What’s wrong?” Sebastian looked from Teaser to Philo and back again. “Has something else happened?”
Philo wiped his hands on his apron and kept his eyes focused on the table. “You didn’t tell him?”
“He just got here, didn’t he?” Teaser snapped. “Hasn’t even had time to swallow some ale and wash the taste of Wizard City out of his mouth.”
“What’s wrong?” Sebastian asked again.
Someone at another table called to Philo. He hurried away.
Teaser picked up a penis-shaped roll, swirled it in the melted cheese, and took a bite. Chew, swallow, swirl the next piece of the roll.
Sebastian plucked a Phallic Delight from the basket and swirled it in the cheese. The first bite was a sharp reminder that he hadn’t eaten anything while he’d been away from the Den. Since Teaser didn’t seem anxious to tell him what had happened—or find out what had taken place in Wizard City—he gave his attention to the simple meal.
Then Teaser glanced toward the front of the courtyard and muttered, “Could have done without seeing her.”
Glorianna? Sebastian looked in the same direction, his heart suddenly pounding. Then he looked away as quickly as Teaser had, hoping the succubus eyeing the other customers was too preoccupied with her own games to notice them.
“Can’t say I’d feel sorry if that one disappeared,” Teaser said, tearing off a piece of the Phallic Delight before dipping it in the cheese.
“You don’t mean that,” Sebastian said sharply.
Teaser flinched. “No, I don’t. It’s just…well…that one. You know the bitch will ooze over here and make snide comments about incubi eating cocks.”
Sebastian huffed. “It’s bread and cheese. We don’t get a vote on what shape Philo chooses to make the rolls.”
“Tell her that.”
I’d rather not get that close. Since they usually weren’t competing for the same prey, the incubi and succubi who lived in the Den tended to get along fairly well—and sometimes even played with one another for a night of mind-blowing sex. But that particular succubus…She didn’t live in the Den, but she visited often enough, and every time he encountered her he felt…uneasy. She was sharper, darker, more predatory than the Den’s residents, and there was a maliciousness to the way she played with her prey that made it clear to those who also played the game that she deliberately stripped all the fun out of sex and turned her prey’s need into desperation and addiction. And she was just as malicious when she tried to lure an incubus into playing her particular game.
They sighed with relief when the succubus turned away from the courtyard.
Breaking the last roll in half, Sebastian scraped the remaining cheese out of the bowl. He handed one piece to Teaser and ate the other. Full, and yet still hungry for something food couldn’t ease, he leaned back in his chair. “You ready to tell me what happened?”
Teaser lifted his mug, then set it down again without drinking. “The alley changed.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s been altered,” Teaser said, his voice sharpened by uneasiness. He paused, clearly struggling with some strong emotions. “We figured we should move the…remains. Couldn’t just leave them there to attract other kinds of predators, could we? But the body was gone. In its place there are green plants growing in the middle of the alley right where the body had been.”
Teaser stared at him. Sebastian looked away.
“Belladonna was here,” he said reluctantly.
“So she did—”
“No. She wouldn’t bring a killer into the Den. She had to be the one who altered things after we left the alley, but that’s all she did. Although why she’d put plants in a dark alley is anyone’s guess.”
“Covering her tracks?”
Sebastian swore. “How many times do I have to say it, Teaser? I know her.”
“You know the girl she was,” Teaser replied. “Do you really know the Landscaper she’s become?”
No. But he wouldn’t admit that. Not to anyone. Because he had to believe Glorianna wasn’t so different from the girl he’d known.
Teaser hesitated. “Maybe you should stay at the bordello tonight instead of going back to the cottage.”
He almost snapped that an incubus couldn’t afford to be afraid of the dark. Then it occurred to him that Teaser was afraid—afraid to be alone right now and afraid that anyone he invited to his room might give him more than he’d bargained for.
“I’m going back to the cottage,” Sebastian said. “There’s only one bed, but the couch is comfortable enough.”
“You asking me to stay?”
Sebastian shrugged. He wasn’t willing to play scaredy-boy, but he also wasn’t going to insult his friend by indicating he knew which of them really needed company. Besides, Glorianna had said she would be back, and he wanted to be where she could find him easily.
“A couch,” Teaser grumbled. “Course, you’ve also got koffee, so I guess that’s an even trade. All right, I’ll keep you company. You settle with Philo, and I’ll see if I can snag another ride with a demon cycle.”
Sebastian remained at the table, knowing Philo would come to clear the dishes.
“Well?” Philo said, keeping his voice low even though there was no one at the nearby tables. “What happened in Wizard City? Did you get an audience?”
“We’ll get no help from the Justice Makers. They don’t care what happens in the Den.”
Philo sighed. “We’re on our own then.”
Belladonna will help. He didn’t think anyone else in the Den would find that thought comforting, so he said, “Yes, we’re on our own.”
It stretched out beneath the place where the Dark Ones dwelled. In the land above It, dogs howled a warning, only to be hushed or ignored; flocks and herds of animals stirred, alert and edgy, their simple minds aware that a hunter had come among them. But the best prey ignored their instincts, believing themselves powerful and superior.
It unfurled a thousand mental tentacles, sending them into that twilight place between wakefulness and dreams—that place that revealed the heart’s hopes and fears. The wakeful mind denied or caged so many desires. The dreaming mind cloaked fears in symbols. But here, in the twilight, the heart couldn’t hide or be denied. Here, in the twilight, was the true feast upon which It fed.
She’s acting strange. My business depends on her family’s wealth. Has she discovered I have a mistress?
I put those coins in the money box. I did! But they’ll think I’m a thief and will send me to a different landscape. Maybe even a dark landscape.
It fed, and fed on, the fears, glutting Itself as It hadn’t been able to do since that long-ago time when It lost the battle to control the world.
Yes, It whispered through the tentacles. You are right to fear that. It will happen, has already happened.
Sated, It withdrew the mental tentacles. It had found the Dark Ones. But something tickled old memories, nudging them into a different pattern. So It turned away, intending to leave the city, pleased that It knew where to find the Dark Ones but they didn’t know how to find It.
Then a mind, rising up into the twilight from uneasy sleep, caught Its attention. Seduced by the powerful emotions, It extended a tentacle, slipped into that mind.
Yes, It whispered eagerly. Yes, you have reason to fear, reason to hate. Yes.
But the mind was rising to wakefulness too fast. There was strength there…and power that would recognize an intrusion.
It left the city, looking like a rippling shadow as It moved under the landscape. The last mind It had touched puzzled It. So much fear, so much rage, so much loathing. But It didn’t understand the word that was the source of all those delicious feelings.
Sebastian.
Feeling awkward, Sebastian dropped a blanket and pillow on one end of the couch.
Foolish to feel that way. Lee had bunked on the couch any number of times when he’d come to visit.
But Lee was human. Teaser was not.
“Need anything else?” he asked.
“Nope,” Teaser replied, pulling off his boots.
“Sleep well.” Sebastian walked to his bedroom doorway. Before he stepped into the other room, Teaser said quietly, “Pleasant dreams.”
He turned to face the other incubus, who watched him with too much understanding.
“There’s a…feel…about you when you’ve abstained from hunting for too many days,” Teaser said. “I know you need to feed the hunger, but…Just be careful, all right?”
Not knowing what to say, Sebastian nodded, walked into the bedroom, and closed the door.
Was it apparent to everyone? Or was it that Teaser, being an incubus, could spot the signs of a craving that had taken on the sharp edge of need?
He undressed, tossing his clothes on to a chair to deal with them later. Then he slipped into bed, extinguished the oil lamp on the bedside table, and pulled the sheet up to his waist.
In the dark, he felt the steady beating of his heart as he unfurled the power that made the incubi what they were. He let his mind drift as he sought a female mind yearning for a dream lover. This time he wouldn’t try to shape the scenario. She could set the stage for this interlude. And in the twilight of waking dreams, he would provide a face and voice to her imaginary lover, would provide the sensation of touch, would create the stimulation that would arouse her until she came.
And he would feed on that arousal, on that orgasm, until it eased the hunger inside him. It wouldn’t hurt her. He never hunted to cause harm. But the feelings he stimulated in the female were as necessary to his well-being as food and water and air.
Please.
He narrowed his focus to that female thought that resonated with something inside him and tried to strengthen the link between their minds.
I didn’t want him to feel that way. I didn’t encourage him to want…lustful things…from me. I didn’t!
Ssh, Sebastian whispered soothingly. It’s all right.
Why can’t someone love me?
I can. I will.
The Landscapers will send me to a bad place. I just want—
What? What do you want?
I want to be safe. I want to be loved. I want to be someplace where I’m not afraid all the time.
He hesitated. This wasn’t a female yearning for pleasure. Daylight! Why had his power pulled him toward her when she wasn’t going to do anything to ease his hunger?
Please.
Something warm and sweet flowed through the link between them. Something that lived inside her, waiting to bloom. Something elusive and so seductive it took his breath away.
Come to me, he demanded. Come to me.
I—
The link between them snapped.
Sweating and frustrated, Sebastian furled his power.
What had just happened? And why? He had no sense of who she was or where she was. Nothing that would help him retrace his path and find her again.
And why would he want to find an obviously troubled female?
Something warm and sweet inside her and so, so seductive. Something that made him feel as if he’d just gotten the tiniest taste of something he’d been searching for—and craving—all his life.
Sitting up, he rubbed his hands over his face. He was past tired, but he wasn’t going to fall sleep anytime soon.
Come to me, he thought, feeling his heart ache with wanting. Come to me. Because I don’t know how to find you.