Gray Dawn, page 19
Sand flew as Dad struck the beach in a crouch with the force of a punch. “I will accompany her.”
“You don’t trust me with your daughter,” she surmised, her expression sour. “You…care for her.”
“I love her,” he corrected her, his attention touching on the spot where the director had vanished. “I was given more of a chance to know her than you were to know me, but Father cost us both something precious.” He rested his hand on my shoulder. “I lost her once. I won’t risk her again.”
“You may enjoy safe passage as well,” she said after a long consideration. “However, if you—or your daughter—seek to liberate Albert Nádasdy, say in ten years’ time, your lives are forfeit.”
“I give you my word I have no interest in my father or his fate or his future.”
“Me neither,” I chimed in quick, happy to reassure her he was one gift we didn’t require a receipt for.
As she began sinking into the water, Dad and I stood shoulder-to-shoulder and watched until she and her retinue had returned to the depths.
“Quality family time.” I cocked an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t see that coming.”
“I don’t like how much she praised your ruthlessness.” He shook his head. “It was too admiring.”
“That’s what worried you? I was more afraid she would attempt to trade for Asa.”
Had she known the extent of his influence, she might have decided ruling Hael would be easier with the former high prince on a smaller and lower throne beside her.
“She will require an heir when Aedan is released from his duties. If she gets you under her sway, she might not look any farther for his replacement. She’s cunning, and neither of us can afford to forget it.”
Because I was curious and had recently undergone my own parental-identity crises, I asked, “No interest in fostering a relationship with your mother?”
“I regret what Father did to her, to us, but no. I’m not opposed to developing a cordial relationship with her, but I’m not interested in inviting her deeper into our lives until she proves herself trustworthy.”
So, sometime next to never then.
“I can respect that.” I let my head fall back on my shoulders. “I can’t believe we actually did it.”
“We secured Aedan’s freedom,” Asa said from behind me, “but we have more work to do if we intend to stop what Luca put into motion.”
“You’re right.” As ready as I was to set down my burdens, it wasn’t time yet. “Everyone, pack for Boston.”
With access to Nan’s files, Colby could track down Luca’s remaining allies and their stashes of king killer. From there, the Kellies could coordinate efforts with agents in the field. But first, we had a stop to make.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Isiforos sat in a cell playing solitaire on his bunk with a deck that looked as beat up as I felt. He heard the door open at the end of the hall and lifted his head with resignation in his eyes. He spotted me, and the cards fell out of his hands.
“Hey.” I waved to him, like an idiot. “Ready to get out of here?”
Jumping to his feet, he gripped the bars. “Are you serious?”
“Luca is dead.” I winced at the scar tissue left from his tattoo removal. “You’re free, in more ways than one.”
His forehead hit the metal, and his fists tightened, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at me again.
“I’m sorry, Rue.” He blew out a long sigh. “I’m so damn sorry. For everything. I know that’s not enough. If you want to demote me, kill me, or revoke your licensing permissions with Dad, I understand.”
That he lumped the loss of his dad’s crafting empire in with his death as potential punishments told me I wasn’t wrong. He was one of the good ones.
“You don’t owe me any apologies. You were under orders. You had no control over yourself or your actions. You never would have done the things you did without someone else forcing your hand.”
The clench of his fingers lessened, but he didn’t withdraw. “But—”
“But nothing.” I was a pro at this, having given the speech to Clay many times. “You’re absolved of any and all wrongdoing. The tattoo is gone. Even if someone from the Lyonne coven tried to use it to control you, they can’t.” I covered his hand with mine. “It’s okay, Isiforos.” I pried each digit off the bars. “Let’s go.”
When he finally hauled his gaze up to mine, his eyes shimmered. “Where to, boss?”
“The hotel. We need to coordinate with the Kellies.”
His swallow was audible.
“They know you’re not to blame.” I hooked my lips up in a grin. “However, I would recommend taking Arthur a tumbler of fresh, body temperature blood and Kelly some Kung Pao chicken with a quart of hot and sour soup. Apologies always go down easier with food. Not that I think you need to make nice, but I can’t speak for them. Plus, it never hurts to bribe the folks in charge of case assignments.”
A guard arrived a few minutes later and let Isiforos out.
I walked him through the building, to the curb, and put him in a waiting SUV.
“Clean up, eat something, rest.” I smiled. “Then get your butt back in black and to The Spinnaker.”
We had a lot of work to do.
The pine crate stood three feet taller than me and four feet wider, and the only thing that kept me from ripping the door off with magic and flinging it was the fact Clay didn’t need to breathe to survive stasis. Still, it caused my heart to beat harder to find him trapped in an airless box. Even if he didn’t know, I did.
The location I chose for this awakening was strategic. We were out in the middle of nowhere. Nothing in sight but grass, grass, and more grass. A sea of the stuff. It was serene, in its way. Isolating too.
Clay would have no choice but to listen to us if he wanted a ride home. That, or he could ignore us for the half day’s walk to the nearest town. I was hoping, with Colby present, her face wet with tears, he would see reason. But, I had to admit, that was also what worried me. The tears.
“I brought crowbars.” Derry handed one to each of us. “Let’s get him out of there.”
Marita, Blay, and I put our backs into prying off the front while Colby flew loops over the top.
“Are you sure he’s okay in there?” She held a stylus in her hands. “He’s not…?”
She would have chewed her fingernails to the quick if she had any.
“He’s okay.” I said it as much for my benefit as hers. “I promise.”
Wood splintered as we gained leverage, and a cold sweat drenched my spine. A tiny gap was all we needed for Derry and Blay to slide their fingers in. They pried off the front and tossed it aside, then each took one of Clay’s elbows and lifted him out of the box.
The second he touched down, Colby plastered herself to his scalp, sobbing her heart out.
“We’ll take care of the mess.” Marita clamped a hand on my shoulder. “You take care of him.”
As the Mayhews carried off the crate to return to their storage courier, Blay and I got comfortable.
“Rue pet.” He offered me a length of his hair. “Pets make Rue feel better.”
“Mmm-hmm.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure it will.”
While I played the role of the sucker I was, Colby got to work redrawing Clay’s shem with exquisite care.
“Here we go,” she whispered, finishing the final loop, holding her breath as his innate magic began thawing him. “Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay.”
Her chant nearly broke my heart, but the worst was yet to come.
“Hey.” He spotted her first. “What’s with the tears, Shorty?”
The familiar intonation, the warmth, the life was back in his voice.
“Clay.” She flung herself against him again and held on with everything in her. “I’m so glad you’re back.”
That was when he noticed we stood in a field with nothing around us for miles, and his face crumpled as he locked his gaze with mine in a silent question. Always the same one.
What have I done?
In the past, I had hidden episodes from him when I could get away with it to spare him more pain. I couldn’t this time. There were too many witnesses, and he would wheedle Colby down until she broke.
“We have a lot to talk about, old friend.” I didn’t give him a chance to recoil, just slid my arms around him and hugged him close, grateful to have him back. “Want to sit?”
A faint tremor moved through him, warning me he might stagger if he didn’t, and he nodded twice.
“Yeah,” he rasped, cradling Colby in his hand. “Let’s sit.”
Scooting me aside, Blay accepted Clay’s weight and eased him down gently.
We sat next, careful not to crowd Clay. I rested my hand on his knee as I told him what he’d missed from my point of view. I wished that had been the end of it. I saw in his eyes he did too. Then came the hard part.
While Colby remained in barnacle mode, she began telling her side of the story, and I did too. Both of us afraid of how he would react and what he might do to distance himself from those actions until he could accept them.
“I didn’t hurt you?” He held Colby on his palm, level with his eyes. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” She hugged his thumb until anyone else would have lost circulation. “You took care of me.”
“And you let her go.” I rubbed his shoulder, having the same problem. “You saved her life.”
Familiar with what came next, I prepared my secret weapon.
“I endangered it in the first place—” He spluttered when I launched my attack. “That was my eye.”
The water gun I had kept concealed was the size of a navel orange, but I had spelled it to never run dry.
“You have two.” Colby giggled. “Besides, it’s just water.”
“Et tu?” He clutched his chest. “I thought you were on my side.”
“I am.” She drew the tiniest water gun on the market, barely the size of a plump strawberry. “Mostly.”
Pulling the trigger, she shot water up his nose, and he coughed until he spat beside him.
“Oops.” She cringed. “I didn’t factor in the angle.”
“Shoot me all you want.” He kissed the top of her head. “Drown me if you want. I deserve it.”
This time Blay shot him in the ear with his cannon-sized soaker, and he yelped when it hit him.
Did I forget to mention the water was ice cold? As in, fresh glacier-trickle cold?
I mean, if you’re going to spell something, you might as well spell it right.
“What was that for?” He scooched farther from us. “I accepted the blame—”
“Exactly.” Colby shot him in the cheek, shaking her head all the while. “Quit it.”
“No blame,” Blay echoed, firing madly, soaking his shirt. “Clay stop or else.”
Eyes darting between us, Clay couldn’t help but blurt, “But it was my—”
“Hmm?” I shot him in the forehead, my aim getting better all the time. “Did you say something?”
“No.” He covered his face with his empty hand. “I didn’t say a thing.”
Noticing Blay take aim again, I rested my hand on his weapon and forced him to lower it.
“There’s one more thing I wanted to tell you.” I locked gazes with Clay. “You’re free.”
“The director is with Calixta.” He pieced it together. “He can’t get to me unless—”
“There’s no unless.” I gathered his large hands in mine. “No ifs, ands, or buts either.”
Confusion charted a course across his features. “I don’t understand.”
“Dad and I bound the director’s magic. He has no control over you.”
“Clay do what he wants,” Blay explained. “Like Blay.”
“That’s not possible.” His fingers went limp. “A golem always has a master.”
“He could walk up to you on the street, beg you to save him from Calixta, and you could tell him no.”
“Clay.” Colby sailed onto his head and leaned down to put them eye to eye. “You’re free.”
A sob cracked his chest like a boulder splitting. He pressed a hand where his heart ought to beat, but he couldn’t hold in the sound. He rocked himself, arms wrapped tight around his middle, while Colby caressed his brow. Tears poured down his cheeks, and he was helpless but to let them fall.
“Come here.” I pulled his head down onto my shoulder and rocked with him. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Am I dreaming?” He hiccupped against my neck. “Is this real?”
“One hundred percent.” I kissed his cheek. “You’re safe now. You’re you now. Forever.”
“I love you, Dollface. I don’t say it half as often as I should, but I do. Thank you.”
“It was a group effort. I can’t take all the credit.” I squeezed him close. “I love you too, you know.”
“Yeah, well.” Colby dropped a kiss on top of his head then glided over to nuzzle me. “I love you both.”
“Blay loves everybody,” he announced. “Everybody loves Blay?”
“We love you both too,” Clay and I said in tandem, as if we had rehearsed it.
“Good.” Colby twitched her wings as her attention snagged on the sky. “Then we should get going.”
“Yes,” he gusted out, standing in a rush. “Let’s go…find a trash can for those guns.”
A shadow blotted out the sun, and Clay spun with a clenched fist until he spotted its owner.
“Moran,” he breathed, his expression somehow eager and miserable at once.
A stream of water nailed him between the eyes as she came in for a landing, her pistol-sized squirter in hand.
“Not you too?” He groaned as he wiped his face dry. “I thought you were here to save me.”
“I am.” She shot him again, point-blank. “From yourself.”
“That’s our cue to leave.” I hugged him quick then stepped back, summoning my wings. “Colby?”
Stubbornly, she clung to him. “Do I have to?”
“Yes.” I opened the neck of my shirt. “Climb in.”
As she sailed over, she shouted, “I love you, Clay.”
Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Blay yelled, “Blay loves Clay too.”
“Dial it down, you two.” I couldn’t stop my smile. “We’ll see him again in like ten minutes.”
As Blay watched Colby disappear, where she settled against my chest and looped her arms through my bra strap, an idea struck him, lighting up his face.
“Upsies.” Blay waved his arms over his head. “Blay call upsies.”
“Good grief.” Clasping hands with him, I cast the spell to make him weightless. “Hold still.”
With everyone secure, I launched us into the sky.
The nearest town was tiny, which had been the idea, and the Black Hat SUV idling in the parking lot of a boarded-up fast food restaurant stuck out like a sore thumb. Fergal sat behind the wheel, wrapped up as tight as a mummy. Arden rode shotgun, and she climbed out the second my feet hit the cracked pavement.
“Well?” Her focus slid over my shoulder. “Where is he?”
As soon as I released the spell on Blay, flames engulfed him, returning Asa to me.
“Change of plans.” I helped Colby out of my shirt. “He’s awake, but…”
“Moran wanted a moment alone with him,” Asa finished for me. “She called earlier with the request.”
Colby, eager for Clay to return, wasted no time ditching us and gaining altitude for a better vantage. Not that she was likely to catch a glimpse of him, but hope springs eternal.
“She didn’t want an audience?” Arden’s eyebrows winged higher. “Interesting.”
“Their relationship is…complicated.” I didn’t have a better answer. “I’m trying to stay out of it.”
Much like I was a package deal with Colby, Moran had to consider her son, Peleg, in all her decisions.
Things were different now. Clay was free. As free as any golem could hope to be. But she had almost lost her son once, thanks to the Hunk manipulating my bond with Colby, so I wasn’t sure it would be enough to convince her he was worth the gamble.
I hoped she would give him a chance, a real one, now that things were as close to normal as they got for people like us. But Clay was notoriously private when it came to his romantic relationships, a luxury he didn’t afford the rest of us, so who knew where they stood in the aftermath of…well…everything.
“You’ve got that look.” Her lips pinched. “You want to talk to me about what comes next.”
“You need to head back to Samford.” I didn’t sugarcoat it for her. “The Bureau is no place for humans.”
“What do I do with everything I’ve learned?” She shook her head. “I can’t unlearn it.”
“I’m not suggesting you do.” I had a second, better offer for her. “I’m hoping you’ll put your skills and knowledge to use at the farm, with the centuria. It’s not far from Samford, so you could live at home. You could keep working at the store and volunteer there in your spare time to keep a hand in.”
“A hand in how?”
“Few of the daemons had ever visited this realm until recently, and they could all use help acclimating. To our world, to having a say in their own lives, to living among humans. Who better to help them learn to be more human than a human?”
Her brow gathered while she thought about the offer, and she cut Fergal a glance.
“Moran can take over your training.” I sweetened the pot. “I need Fergal, and he wouldn’t enjoy country living anyway. He’s a big-city vampire.”
Most were, really, but only because that made it easier to feed without calling attention to their dining habits.
“Will I see him again?” She scuffed the toe of her sneaker. “He’s…grown on me.”
For that exact reason, I decided I had been misusing a valuable resource. Fergal was an excellent training officer. He enjoyed mentorship. He was patient, kind, and—most importantly—in control of his impulses. I planned to place my teenage recruits under his care. I believed he would be good for them.
