Nick moved his bishop across the board. “Checkmate,” he said with a grin.
“Shit!” Jeremy mumbled, staring at his exposed king. “How did I miss that?” Frustrated, he grabbed his glass of scotch and swallowed a good third of it.
“Best of seven?” Nick leaned back smugly, taking a sip of Tiamat.
“Damn right!” growled Jeremy. Then he sighed. “I’m never going to get this game.”
“You’re getting better, Jer. Trust me, you used to be awful.” He laughed at Jeremy’s glare until a soft tone signaled a visitor. “Back in a sec,” Nick said. Checking the external monitor, he smiled and unsealed the door.
Lorcan stepped inside carrying a bottle of wine. He kissed Nick and made his way into the living room while Nick sealed the door behind him. Glancing at the antique ebony and mother-of-pearl chessboard on the coffee table, he snickered. “Another horrendous defeat, Jeremy?”
Jeremy didn’t even look up as he flipped Lorcan off. “Blow me, Bloodsucker.”
Lorcan settled down on the couch, placing his bottle on the coffee table next to open bottles of Double Voice and single malt. “I don’t do humans, Terrorist.”
Jeremy looked up from studying the chessboard, his face turning red. “Don’t call me human, you piece of shit.”
“Okay guys, time out.” Nick stepped between them. “It’s getting late, Jer. I’ll see you tomorrow before we head out to Washington.”
“It’s not late, Nick. It’s barely eight o’clock. If you want me to leave so you can get laid, just say so,” Jeremy said snidely.
“He’s got you there, Nicholas.” Lorcan put his feet up on the coffee table. “Good night, Terrorist.”
Jeremy downed the rest of his scotch and rose to his feet. “Don’t keep Nick up all night fucking, Bloodsucker. Tomorrow’s a big day for him.” He walked to the door, the bottle of scotch in his hand. “See you in the morning, Nick.”
“Good night,” Nick said, red faced, as Jeremy unsealed the door and let himself out.
The Daywalker dropped onto the couch next to Lorcan, who was studying the positions of the porcelain pieces. “Isn’t that the gambit I showed you last week?”
“Yes. He’s getting better. I have to be creative to keep ahead of him.” Nick sighed. “I wish you’d stop calling him human. You know he hates being reminded of how different he is from other Sentinels.”
“Of course I know. He just irritates me. I don’t like how he hangs around with you every waking minute.”
“I enjoy spending time with Jeremy.” Nick shrugged. “I never have to explain myself to him. He already knows everything about me.”
“True,” Lorcan said grudgingly. “And I can’t fault his devotion. I think if you were human, he would gladly step in front of a bullet to protect you.”
Nick silently picked up his glass and finished his drink. “I know. Medusa really did a number on him.”
“That level of commitment can be very dangerous. I have met more than my fair share of fanatics over the centuries, and your young protégé reminds me greatly of them. Jeremy was prepared to die for Medusa, no matter what it cost in lives to those around him. There are no limits to how far he will go for the sake of his loyalties. Be careful with him, Nick. He’s a loaded gun. Make sure he’s only pointed at your enemies when he finally goes off.”
Nick slumped in his seat. “He’s my friend. That’s all I want from him.”
“Then you should encourage him to have other friends. He can’t be focused entirely on you all the time. I know your allies are starting to warm to Jeremy somewhat. Maybe you should ask them to put more effort into forming stronger relationships with him.”
“I already have,” Nick said. “Jer has made it obvious he doesn’t care what they think of him, but it’s plain that he respects their skills, and he’s certainly willing to learn. Rory has been working with him on developing his psychic technique beyond the limitations of the Gift, Scott’s teaching him unarmed combat, and Take says his sword work is improving.”
“And Ana?”
Nick grinned. “Ana’s trying to teach him to dance. Apparently Jer has two left feet.”
“That’s a start. Has he considered joining Armistice Security?”
“I think Jeremy has had enough of taking orders.” Nick moved the chess pieces back to their starting positions. “He’s perfectly happy to remain a civilian. And I certainly have enough on my plate to keep him busy as part of my diplomatic staff.”
“That you do,” said Lorcan. “He’s right about one thing at least: tomorrow is a big day for you. Formal recognition by the United States—I haven’t seen anything like it in five hundred years. If the human governments in Canada and Mexico follow suit, as you expect them to, you will have eclipsed everything I have ever achieved in my career as a diplomat.”
Nick smiled at him. “You helped me out a lot in setting this up, Ruarc.”
“I honestly thought you were insane to accept the position when the Triumvirate assigned you to this duty, but you’ve displayed a remarkable degree of creativity in your efforts. It was my pleasure to advise you; however, I think the Court would seriously disapprove if they learned of my involvement.”
Nick leaned over to kiss Lorcan lightly. “I won’t tell,” he said.
Lorcan traced Nick’s cheekbone with a fingertip, and red sparks began to ripple across his irises. “Nicholas,” he whispered and Nick felt his own thirst rise in response. “I have something to commemorate your victory.” Lorcan swung his feet to the floor and reached out to pick up the bottle he had brought with him.
“What is it?” Nick noticed the bottle for the first time
Stripping the wax from the neck of the bottle with his claws, Lorcan used telekinesis to draw out the cork. “A special kind of bloodwine. I brought it from home.” He met Nick’s startled gaze. “Don’t worry, it’s freely offered.” He poured a generous measure of the burgundy liquid into the two empty glasses on the table, then warmed them with a weak heat cantrip.
“What’s so special about it?”
“You’ll understand when you taste it,” Lorcan murmured. He tapped his glass against Nick’s, making the crystal sing. “To us.” He took a sip.
Nick copied him, closing his eyes as the flavor of the liquor spread across his palate. “Wow,” he said after a moment, “this is great. Better than Single Voice, stronger too.” He took another sip. “It almost tastes like—” he trailed off, his eyes snapping open as he turned to stare at Lorcan. “It tastes like you,” he whispered.
Lorcan nodded and took another sip. He closed his eyes, plainly savoring the taste. “It is me.”
Nick carefully set his glass down on the table and faced Lorcan again. “It can’t just be you,” he said hesitantly. “It has a soul echo. There’s mortal blood in this as well, and you said it was freely offered. What is it?”
Lorcan smiled, his eyes still closed. “This is Selene.”
“Selene?” Nick was startled. “That’s only made for formal matings, when both partners contribute equally to symbolize the union.”
“Yes,” Lorcan opened his eyes, staring straight at Nick. “This is made from my blood, and Connor’s. I was saving it for the day I finally turned him, when he’d be able to drink it without ill effects. I never got the chance to share it with him before he died.” His gaze turned to the bottle on the table. “I have kept this bottle protected, unopened for centuries.”
“Ruarc…” Nick struggled to find the words to express the turmoil he felt. “I don’t…this is…it’s too much.”
Reaching out, Lorcan picked up Nick’s glass and pressed it into the Daywalker’s hand. “You are the only one I have ever allowed to see the memories of what he and I shared. My closest friend in four hundred years. I want you to feel what I felt when I was with him.”
Nick lifted the glass to his lips and took a larger sip, trying to untangle the shadows of memory and emotion contained in the soul echo. “He really loved you.”<
br />
“Yes, he did,” the Nightwalker whispered. “It had been so long since I let myself remember.” He looked at Nick. “Until the night I showed him to you. You gave him back to me, Nicholas. I wanted you to know how grateful I am. This bottle is for you, to thank you for that gift.”
Nick finished the rest of his glass and placed it back on the table. Picking up the cork, he slid it carefully back into the mouth of the bottle and renewed the preservative cantrip Lorcan had broken when he opened it. He turned back to the other vampire.
“You’ll find that feeling again someday, Ruarc.”
“Yes, I will.” Lorcan smiled at him sadly. “Someday.” He finished his glass and laid it on the table. “Thank you for sharing this moment with me.”
“It was my honor.”
Lorcan pulled Nick close and then leaned forward to gently run his fangs down the line of Nick’s throat. “I’ve never wanted you as much as I do right now,” he whispered into Nick’s ear.
The Daywalker shivered at his touch, and then, growling, pushed Lorcan backward and began to uncinch his belt.
* * *
Only when Nick and Lorcan began to get more violent, their bloodlust mixing with sexual desire, did Jeremy withdraw his psychic probes from their minds and stop eavesdropping. Instead, he focused his thoughts on maintaining proper form as he continued his exercise routine. Vampires liked it rough, he’d discovered. It had taken all of his self-control not to intervene the first time he looked through Nick’s eyes and saw what Lorcan did to him in the dark.
That Nick plainly got off on it was bad enough, but the fact that Lorcan was so obviously in love with Nick just made it worse. Jeremy sighed, finished his crunches and turned over to start his push-ups. Lorcan’s feelings were something of an open secret among Nick’s close associates, all of whom had tacitly agreed not to interfere. The only one who didn’t seem to have a clue was Nick.
Briefly, Jeremy considered whether he should let Nick in on the facts regarding his apparently casual relationship with Lorcan. After all, Nick asked me not to hold back the truth, hadn’t he? That was the bargain—that I force Nick to confront the truths the Daywalker needed to see. Somehow, Jeremy doubted Nick would thank him for this particular insight. And Lorcan? Lorcan would cut out my heart and eat it. Not that he was afraid of the Nightwalker. If he wanted to, he could kill or incapacitate Lorcan with a thought. In the end, however, the only person he’d be hurting would be Nick, and Jeremy wouldn’t do that.
He finished his final set and walked over to the couch in his living room, kicking off his shoes and lying down on the firm cushions. Besides, taking Lorcan out of the picture would only push Nick right into Rory’s arms; that might not be a bad thing, but it would get messy if Rory were finally forced to choose between Nick and Takeshi.
Without doing a deep read on Rory, Jeremy couldn’t be sure which way that would go. So far, he had refrained from reading Rory’s mind, given the power the Traveler had at his disposal. It was entirely possible that someone like Rory, who had learned to draw on the strength of the Grace in the years since the Pact Arcanum, could detect Jeremy’s intrusion into his mind. That would be an instant death sentence. The Children of the Dawn would tear him to pieces for such a blatant slight to the Redeemer’s honor. Jeremy wasn’t afraid of them either, but if a Daywalker challenged him to honor combat as a member of House Luscian, it was conceivable that Nick might exercise his right to act as Champion and fight the duel himself. Better not to risk it.
Another possibility bubbled up out of his subconscious, but he immediately dismissed it. There is no way I would ever do that to myself. Why even think about it?
Jeremy looked at the clock, trying to stave off the depression that threatened to claim him. It was only 8:45 p.m., much too early for bed. It was going to be a long night. He looked around the relatively spartan room. The only thing breaking up the monotony of the living room wall was his degree, now hanging in a rich rosewood frame that had been a gift from Nick. Jeremy didn’t much care about the mementos of his largely wasted life, but Nick thought they were important, so he indulged the Daywalker. He smiled as he thought of Nick, the first real friendship he’d forged in as long as he could remember.
As he contemplated what to do with the remainder of the evening, his AI spoke into the silence. “Jeremy, Scott Phillips is trying to reach you.”
Jeremy scowled at the interruption, then schooled his expression. “Put him through, Grendel.”
A virtual screen opened up over the coffee table.
“Hello, Jeremy.” Scott looked back at him
Jeremy nodded. “What can I do for you?”
“You know how I usually meet up with Take, Rory and Anaba to play poker on Wednesday nights?”
“Of course.” Jeremy snorted. “The Winds’ night out. Did you guys decide to skip it to get a good night’s sleep before the ceremony tomorrow?”
“No. I was wondering if you’d like to join us.”
Jeremy frowned slightly. “I beg your pardon?”
“If you’re not interested—”
“No!” said Jeremy. “No, I…I was just surprised. It’s like a private ritual with you guys. You don’t even invite Nick to your game. Why me?”
“Jeremy, I don’t forgive you for what you did to Nick in Los Angeles, but I can’t argue with the fact that it helped him turn his life around. In the meantime, you’ve tried to be a loyal, supportive friend to him, and I can’t argue with that, either. Now, I know you’re probably planning to spend the night sitting alone in your room, so I thought I would make you a better offer.”
Jeremy swallowed. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes or say no. It’s up to you. If you want to come over, we’re meeting at Ana’s apartment in twenty minutes.” Scott grinned. “Bring cash. Newbies don’t get credit.”
The virtual screen turned black and disappeared. Jeremy stared silently at the space where it had been for several seconds, then he got up from the couch and headed for the shower.
* * *
Lorcan woke about an hour before dawn, gently lifted Nick’s arm from off his chest, and rolled over in bed to face the sleeping Daywalker. Nick’s cheek was warm beneath his light kiss. “Someday, Nicholas, you’ll find that feeling again, too,” he whispered. “I just hope it’s with me.”
He slid silently out of bed and dressed, his senses sharp in the dark. Casting another glance at Nick, he smiled and walked to the living room. He picked up the bottle of Selene and carried it into the kitchen, placing it in a cabinet with Nick’s bottles of Tiamat. With a last look at the bottle he had guarded for so long, Lorcan closed the cabinet and walked to the front door, letting himself out.
As he walked the streets of Anchorpoint toward the gateway back to the Court of Shadows Embassy, he found himself whistling an old lullaby he hadn’t thought of in centuries. The ever-present rattle of the perimeter screen, a staccato crackling similar to fracturing ice, formed a percussive counterpoint to his melody. Fragrant flowering vines grew prolifically along the edges of the wide streets, protected from the sharp mountain chill by warming spells; he breathed deeply of the fresh scent.
Connor, he thought, as he looked up at the pre-dawn sky. If you’re watching, you know you will always be first in my heart. But I don’t want to be alone anymore. He makes me happy for the first time since I lost you, and I don’t want to let him go, even if he doesn’t feel the same way. I hope you understand, and that you forgive me.
His mind on his two lovers, Lorcan paid scant attention to where he was going as he walked to the low tower that served as the embassy’s antechamber. Entering the lobby, he made his way to the teleport gateway and punched in his security code for transit to the main embassy building in Icehaven. In a flash of light, he jumped directly to the living quarters on the top level.
Placing his hand on the security plate, Lorcan let the AI recognize him and opened his door, yawning. When he stepped into his quarters, he immediately
sensed he wasn’t alone. Instantly, he raised his defenses and prepared to fight, centuries of training taking control before he was even aware of his actions.
“That will not be necessary, Lorcan. Please come in.”
Lorcan rocked back on his heels at the voice, noticing the familiar figure who stared out of the window at the city of Icehaven. Impossible! He could not be here. Lorcan took a few steps forward, letting the door close behind him. Ignoring the eight other Nightwalkers in the room, he had eyes only for the man at the window.
“My Lord?”
Brion Magister Diluthical turned away from the window and regarded him frankly. “Lorcan Primogenitor Diluthical, have you forgotten all basic courtesy in your time away from us?”
Lorcan immediately dropped to one knee. “My Lord, forgive me. My life is yours. I am your blade to wield.”
Brion tilted his head absently. “I accept your honor, to defend as if it were my own. Rise.”
Lorcan scrambled to his feet. “Master, I don’t understand. I received no notice of any request for a member of the Court to enter the Armistice Zone.”
Brion turned his back to Lorcan again and gazed at the low obsidian buildings, which gleamed beneath the opalescent dome of force. The vampire lord’s sandy brown hair seemed almost blond in the low light that the denizens of the city preferred. “I did not request entry. Armistice Security has no knowledge of my presence.”
Lorcan’s mouth was dry and it took him several seconds to find his voice. “Master, how is that possible?”
“The Court has sympathizers within Armistice Security. You will forgive me if I do not give you their names, I trust?”
Lorcan nodded numbly. “Of course, Master.”
“In any case, these agents have altered certain intelligence records in the Armistice Security database to allow us to substitute the entry records of several embassy staff to match those of myself and my associates. After that, it was a simple matter of impersonating them as we entered the Armistice Zone.” Brion slipped his hand into the vest pocket of his charcoal gray suit, and pulled out a skeleton watch on a silver chain.
Sunset (Pact Arcanum) Page 18
