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Luc
She’s not dead. She’s not dead. I seriously can’t believe it.
I’m so happy to see her alive I begin squeezing the life out of her.
“Stop—Luc—can’t...breathe.”
Hell! I release the pressure of my embrace. It’s just hard for me to believe that she’s here, that she’s real. I’m almost afraid that she’ll turn into mist and leave me once again.
“Sorry, I—I thought you were dead.” I take a step back so I can really look at her. She’s even more perfect than I remember. “I thought you died, and she took you back to...well, to wherever fae go when they die.”
When Aleah’s mother first took her away, I hoped against hope that she had taken her to Faerie for healing. When she didn’t return, hope began to fade. I don’t know why I chose to stay here in the middle of nowhere. I think her cats appreciated the company, even if they still don’t like me much. I made sure to feed them.
“They used fae magics to heal me,” she says, though I can tell by the tilt of her head that she still seems confused by what happened. “I couldn’t believe it either, when I woke up. I’m fine, Luc. I’m alive, and I’m truly fine, I promise.”
Eventually I let her down, but keep her in the circle of my arms. It feels good to hold her solid warmth against me. I close my eyes. I try to memorize the feeling. I never want to let her go again.
“Wow, you’ve lost weight, Luc.” Her hands flutter over my ribs, and exploratory fingers knead my back. “Haven’t you been...feeding?”
I shrug. “I waited here seven weeks, just in case you returned. I fed your cats. They almost tolerate me, now. But feeding myself didn’t seem as important as waiting to find out if you had...survived.” The despair grew every night she didn’t return. “But when time passed and you didn’t reappear...”
“I can’t believe that woman didn’t send word to let you know I made it,” she says, her fists balled at her sides. She releases a hefty sigh. “On second thought, knowing a little more about my mother, I can believe it now. Wait, seven weeks? What’s the date?”
When I tell her, her mouth drops open. “The attack happened two months ago?” She runs her fingers through her hair and steps back. “It’s been only a few days for me, Luc. I woke from a four-day coma—well, a healing sleep they called it—this morning. Wow. Time really does work differently in the fae realm.”
I don’t care how long or short it has been. She’s here, and breathing, and now I have the chance finally to ask for forgiveness.
“We need to talk, Allie.” Even I’m surprised by how serious I sound. I don’t want to worry her but I need her to understand.
“Hmm.” She disentangles from my embrace and steps back, crossing her arms in front of her. “That we do.”
There’s awareness in her eyes.
“You know?” I swallow but it does nothing for my dry throat.
“Renna took great pleasure in telling me you were there at my father’s death,” she says, her words short but not angry.
“No! At least, that’s not quite how it was. I—”
“I know what happened.” She steps closer until her hands rest on my chest. “I’m so sorry, Luc. Sorry that you had to be the one to...um....”
My flinch is instinctive. Even after all these years, the guilt is like a gut-wrench of pain. She’s trying to spare my feelings, but maybe it’s finally time to face them squarely.
“The one to kill my Mistress?” I ask. The words are easier to admit than I expect. “Yes. It was the most difficult decision I’ve ever had to make. No choice though, in the end. Veronique went rogue.”
“She and another?” Aleah asks. Her gaze is full of sympathy and compassion. “Working in tandem, like the ones in this area?”
“Yes, exactly like that. And it wasn’t as if Veronique showed any signs of madness in advance. One night she was her usual self, holding court at the house and barking orders like she did every evening in our Melbourne nest. The next night when we all woke, she was gone and the killing spree began.”
Memories of family—the only family I’ve known since my turning—cause a pang in the region of my heart.
“I had no idea, until you mentioned it after our lovemaking, that you were the banshee baby everyone talked about after your father’s death.”
She shivers, and moves away from me to take a seat on the top porch step. “What did everyone say?”
“They said the banshee child cried out when Veronique entered the apartment,” I say quietly. “She cried out to sing of death and sound a warning to her father, but a blast of protective power silenced the child.”
“Protective power?” She wrinkles her forehead. “Someone took out my voice?”
“Your mother,” I say. “Or at least, someone she appointed to watch over you.”
Aleah’s shoulders droop. It seems as though this information has completely gutted her. “I don’t whether to love or hate that woman.”
She drops her face into her hands.
“For what it’s worth, they do say that, without the protection, the baby would surely have died as violently as the father,” I tell her. “They didn’t know you were there at first and I believe that is what saved you.” My voice is tentative. It’s hard for me to say this at all, especially knowing Aleah was that baby and she could have died a violent death because of my Mistress. “The baby—or rather, you—would have been drained and left a husk. So, I guess that protection did save your life that day.”
“Or—” Her voice is low, spilling out between the fingers still covering her face. “Perhaps the baby was saved because a decent vampire swept in and took action. Action that went against every grain of his being. Action that involved a life and death decision between saving a human life, and destroying the Mistress he loved—the woman who gave him life. Perhaps that’s why I’m alive and sitting here with you today.”
She lifts her head up and locks eyes with me. Those beautiful eyes are unflinching, unblinking. I can’t help but return her gaze, even though it pierces me to my core.
“Perhaps.”
“Oh, Luc.” She lowers her hands from my chest. She’s so close now, we’re nearly kissing. How badly I want her to kiss me. How badly I want to lose myself in her. “I may have saved your life in recent times, but I suspect, twenty-five years ago, your actions saved mine. And most likely, many other innocent lives as well.”
The thought that it was my action that contributed to letting Aleah live all those years ago eases the ache that invaded my soul when I thought she was dead. I take a seat beside her on the step. Where our thighs touch, heat ignites.
“I think I still owe you one,” I tell her. “Or at least, I definitely owe your bees.”
She smiles at me, and the vision is priceless. “I thought that was a hallucination. My dying brain playing tricks on me.”
“Nope.” I shake my head, glad to see her smile. “Without the intervention of your bees I would not be here now. How did you do that?”
“I have no idea. I just called them in my mind. Asked them to protect the one I—” Her cheeks transform from pale to an attractive shade of pink. Instead of looking at me, she looks down at her hand. She picks at her dress—a beautiful white silky thing that reminds me of distant human memories of clouds in the sky on a particularly bright day.
I knock her gently with my shoulder. “The one you...like?” I tease. “Maybe just a little?”
She stares down at her feet. “The one I like more than a little.” Her voice is strained but rough. Honest. “The one I like quite a goddamn lot.”
I place a finger under her chin, forcing her face back up to meet my gaze. I hope she can read my conviction when I nod and say, “I like you a lot, too, Aleah. More than a lot. When I thought you were dead—” A shudder shakes my frame, and she rests a gentle hand on my thigh and leans her head on my shoulder. The pain of loss dissipates.
“I’m not planning to go anywhere, Luc.” Her voice is firm. “How about you?”
“I can’t promise to be here every night. It is the nature of my work to have to travel. We still haven’t gotten to the bottom of whatever or whoever is controlling the rogues. Or turning supernaturals into rogues in the first place.”
She nods. “I think it might be necromancer magic.”
“How do you know that?” I lean back so I can watch her reaction. I can’t exactly read her face, but I’m curious to know how she came to this conclusion.
“I saw it, that night.” Her gaze is suddenly far away, as though she’s remembering. “I thought it was part of my dying. The purple haze...it seemed to be winning, devouring you. I’m so glad it didn’t.”
“Hmm. Me too.” Necromancer magic. The fact that Aleah saw it too makes me certain my guess is correct. “We found a medallion at the site of your neighbors’ murder—a pendant with an unusual and intricate pattern. We think either Darrie or Gwen tore it off one of their attackers in the frenzy.”
She nods slowly. “Laura said something about that. With everything else that happened, I never got the chance to ask you about it.”
“It’s back at SUDAP now, in the secure facility in Melbourne. They’re still working on unlocking the pendant’s secrets.”
She shifts as if restless. “Did you touch it?”
“No.”
“Good. Not sure why that matters, but I feel like it does.”
“It felt wrong when I first saw it lying there in the dirt. Wrong...like...bad magic.” A shiver traverses my skin. Very bad magic.
“The thing is,” I add, shifting a lock of hair behind her ear. “I saw another medallion, on the vamp that tried to kill you.”
Her eyebrows rise up toward her hairline. I don’t want to scare her, but after all Aleah has been through, it seems petty to keep anything back at this point.
“I believe there’s a hidden agenda that is playing out here. An agenda that relates to the Accord. Someone, or a group of people, are trying to work against everything the Accord stands for. Possibly led by a necromancer who is creating the loups and controlling them somehow via the pendants. Your mother mentioned a movement against the Accord—a Restoration, she called it.”
“Mother knows what’s going on?”
“Only snippets, I believe. My team will need to investigate further. But at least now we’re no longer proceeding completely blind.” I cover her hand where it rests on my thigh and interlace our fingers. “While I will still need to travel, I do need a base...a place that...perhaps I might call...home?”
She raises our interlinked hands to her lips and drops a kiss on the top of my knuckles, one by one. The gesture sends tentacles of warmth reaching into every part of my cold vampire body. The residual unease that rose when I mentioned the medallion seems to dissipate into thin air. It feels so good to be warm. It feels so good to be with Aleah. It feels so good to finally, once again, feel alive.
“You are home, Luc. If you want. You have my permission to enter or leave this place as you wish. I rescind my own power to rescind the invitation. There. What do you say about—”
I end her inane chatter with a kiss that feels like everything I’ve ever wanted wrapped up in this one connection. Her mouth, her lips, her generous heart—even the strange gift of her banshee cry. I accept everything she has to offer, and give all that I have in return. Home. Yes, I truly believe I may have finally found my place.
And in this moment, I realize I’m hopeful for the first time in a long, long while.
