by Allison Pang
“What’s going on here?” I already knew the answer, but I needed to hear it from her directly.
“He’s not meant to be human, Abby. Whatever you did to him, he can’t sustain it.” Grief flickered at the corners of her mouth. “He’s spent his entire life searching for a way to have his own Dreaming Heart . . . and now he’s got one. He’s going to burn himself out trying to keep it.”
“And what happens when . . . when he can’t keep it anymore?”
She shrugged, looking away. “What do you think? His mortal form grows weaker by the day. We weren’t meant for this sort of life. He isn’t.” She grabbed my arm, her fingers pressing into my wrist. “You have to give it back. Find him and fucking give it back.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Please.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Please. You have to.”
I sucked in a deep breath, the weight of everything happening crashing down about me. Melanie. Maurice. Talivar. Brystion. How the hell was one person supposed to handle it all?
One step at a time, my inner voice reminded me. Or by drinking heavily.
“Because that’s helpful . . .” I muttered at it. “Is he in there?”
Sonja hesitated, her brows drawn tightly. “He’s rather . . . territorial about this place.”
I nodded. “All right. Let’s see what I can do.” Some part of me quailed at facing him here, but I also knew the succubus was right. The extra power her brother had granted me wasn’t mine to keep . . . and even if it was, I’d be damned if I’d just hold on to it. He’d given so much for me . . . could I do any less for him?
She let me walk away from her and I slipped through the trees, sparing a glance behind me. The succubus seemed so small, her wings hunched and sad.
The trees whispered something to me, but I couldn’t quite make out the words. The bells chimed eagerly, though, the pulse of longing sweeping through me, pushing me forward. The branches parted as I walked, letting me into tiny spaces I couldn’t have imagined getting through.
I hoped like hell I’d manage to get out if things didn’t go well. I wasn’t sure if the sharks would subconsciously manage their way in through here.
“Ion?” His name drifted into the darkness, swallowed up between the trees. A faint gold swell of color spilled from some place in the distance, edging the bark with its own halo.
Abby . . .
My name carried on the breeze, swirling around me like a nearly tangible force, beckoning and seductive. A deep pull pulsed through me, taking root in my groin, a flush of lust rippling over my skin and burning my limbs.
The Dreaming Heart of an incubus. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised at my reaction, given our particular relationship.
Still.
The golden glow grew brighter and I shivered, drawn to it. The trees faded away and I was running, pushing through, and my feet were bare and the pine needles stuck between my toes, but maybe they were hooves, and a set of antlers burst from my brow, a long tail flicking behind me . . .
I blinked. A stone cottage stood there . . . and I was myself. Dressed in my usual jeans and T-shirt.
In front of the cottage stood Brystion . . . or something like him. His figure shifted in and out from his mortal form to his daemonic form and back again, the edges of him blurry, as though his own subconscious couldn’t quite figure out what he should be.
“Abby?”
I approached him cautiously, ready to shield myself if necessary. I trusted him, but traversing Melanie’s dreams had shown me how easily I could be attacked. His gaze became confused and I stopped. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.” He glanced down, as though trying to figure out what to say. “I can’t seem to hold on to the Dreaming.” He held out his hand, waggling his fingers. “It’s slipping away from me.” He lurched forward and grabbed my arm. “Can you help me?”
Heat prickled up my wrist, arousal and lust mixing in a hazy rush. My mouth dropped open despite myself. If he was surprised at my reaction, he didn’t show it. His own eyes lit up with a familiar glow and I nearly sobbed to see it, his form becoming dark and antlered.
“Ion,” I murmured, stroking the top of his head, the hair trailing through my fingers like wet silk.
“Something’s missing,” he muttered.
“I know. You gave me your power. Don’t you remember?”
His daemon form scoffed at me. “Why would I do that?”
“To save me, Ion. You did it to save me . . . and it worked.”
Confusion warred on his face with something far more sly and he leaned forward to kiss me—
Desire exploded as his lips met mine and an instant later we were on the ground, my clothes gone, his clawed fingers pricking my shoulders. He nipped me hard, his cock brushing my belly. I kissed him, pulling back a moment later.
“We don’t have time for this right now.”
“There’s always time for this. For us. Don’t you see, Abby? This is how it should be. Every night. Every moment. This.”
I shook my head and pushed him off, my shields snapping into place. “This isn’t us, Ion. It’s whatever you put inside me, trying to get back to you . . . and I can’t.”
Hurt flashed deep in his eyes, but I pushed away the quell of my own emotions.
“I think,” I said softly. “I think this is a defense mechanism of your Dreaming Heart.” And why wouldn’t it be? After all, I was coming to potentially take it away from him. Surely he’d try to defend it on at least a subconscious level?
“Or maybe this is just the true me,” he retorted, rolling away from me. His tail twitched like an irritated cat’s.
I raised a brow. “What’s inside the cottage?”
“Nothing. Never you mind.” He scowled.
“Really? Because you’ve been all over the place in my Dreaming Heart. I think you ought to let me get a look at yours. It’s only fair,” I said dryly. Realizing I was still naked, I gathered some of the Dreaming around me and re-created my clothes. All well and good to stand my ground, but I wasn’t going to do it in the buff if I didn’t have to.
The apparition of Brystion lowered his head, the crystalline antlers growing dull. “Enter, then, if you must.”
I cupped his chin, my fingers lingering over his mouth. “I told you once that I never wanted you to become something you weren’t . . . not to please me. I meant it. If you truly want a Dreaming Heart, then so be it, but I don’t know if I can let you die for it.”
“It would be my choice to do so,” he said, hooves digging into the soft ground. The scent of crushed grass hit my nose and I stifled a sneeze.
“Yes. But at least let me inside.” I gave him a wan smile. “I’m selfish that way.”
He snorted and shook out his head so his hair rippled over his shoulders, the cupped ears trembling. “We both are.”
He moved aside and shoved the door open, gesturing me in. I glanced back but he didn’t choose to follow. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and slipped inside, the door shutting tightly behind me.
I blinked, adjusting to the flicker of candlelight. The inside of the cottage was sparse, but cozy. A crackling fire and a battered quilt, an overstuffed couch and a small table with a steaming cup of tea upon it. I hadn’t been quite sure what to expect. After all, he had been an incubus. Part of me thought I’d be walking into some sort of bordello. But this . . . seemed rather hollow for all that.
I frowned. Brystion had never been human before, had never had a childhood or a life as anything other than an incubus. He’d complained that he was only the sum of what he’d gleaned off of other people’s dreams—his skills, his knowledge. Why wouldn’t his dreams be the same?
A thick sadness strangled my throat and I struggled to push it away.
“Ion?” The house creaked in response, but the bells in my hair were silent. Inwardly I wondered if I’d be stuck searching every room for him. I sat down on the couch and picked up the cup of tea, the heat warming m
y palm.
The door on the opposite side of the room swung open invitingly.
Come in and see. Come look. Look at who I am . . . what I’ve done.
I sipped the tea instead, staring at the way the steam rippled around the edges. “It’s very good,” I murmured, and it was. Sweetened exactly how I liked it.
The scent of jasmine surrounded me, heady and nearly overwhelming for a moment, before dissipating. “I would do more if I knew how,” Brystion said from behind me.
He was in his mortal form, the daemon doppelgänger nowhere to be seen. “I think it’s lovely.” I took another sip and set the mug down.
He knelt beside me, something desperate in his face. “I could make you breakfast, if you like? An omelet, perhaps?”
I reached up into my hair and pulled out the bells, an odd chill lancing through my fingers. “These belong to you, Ion.” I thrust them into his palm, closing his hand into a fist, and kissed him.
He closed his eyes. “All I ever wanted was to have my own life . . . be what I wanted to be.”
“I know. But this . . .” I sighed. “I don’t know what to do, Ion. Your transformation—our transference—it wasn’t supposed to happen, and you can’t sustain it.” I shifted over, tugging on his arm so he sat beside me. “Unless this is what you want?” I winced at the sound of my own voice, the way the words broke.
“No. I’m not so despairing as all that.” His mouth kicked up wryly. “If it’s all the same to you, though, I’d like to keep it this way for a little while longer. If this is the only chance I get at having something of my own . . .”
I rested my head on his shoulder, the last of the fire flickering down to ashes. “I understand. I love you, you know.”
The words hovered between us like the soft notes of birdsong or the crackling of falling leaves, the sound of snow as it hits the windowpane. He stilled, and the tension stretched between us, wire tight, as though he were a star about to collapse upon itself. It was the first time I’d ever said that to him. The potential of his power flared to life within him, but he didn’t take it, though the answering flutter of it writhed madly in my belly.
He kissed me hard and I let him push me down into the couch. It was as though the words had unleashed something within him, but he didn’t go any further than that.
“Later,” he murmured. “When this is over, I’m going to show you something . . . just for us.”
“Are you sure there will be a later?” I said it coyly, but only to cover up the lance of fear that followed along behind it.
His arms wrapped tightly around me, but he didn’t answer. I buried my face in his neck, his pulse fluttering beneath my lips.
“Wake up,” he whispered.
Seventeen
I awoke, slumped in the chair beside Melanie’s bed. I caught the whispered hiss of low words from the other room, but I couldn’t tell what was being said. Somehow I managed enough of a conscious effort to raise my head, wiping the sand from the corners of my eyes.
And blinked.
Melanie was awake. A brittle exhalation escaped her as her head turned toward me. “Abby?”
I bit down on my lower lip at the frailty of her voice. Her trembling hand found mine and squeezed it tight as the first wash of tears welled up.
“I thought you were a just a dream,” she said finally, struggling to sit up. “Ion told me you were dead . . .”
“I know.” I let her lean on me, propping her up with a few extra pillows. She still clung to the violin with her other hand, but she put her arm around me despite it. For a few minutes we sat there, our bodies shaking with quiet sobs as our minds finally came to grips that we were, in fact, both alive . . . and together.
I broke away first, and laid a hand upon her forehead. She felt cool, but not overly so.
“The others will want to see you. I should tell them you’re awake.” I hesitated. “Nobu’s here . . . and . . . uh . . . I think he did something to your mother. To make her tell him where you were.”
Her face paled but she merely nodded. “I’m sure he did,” she said finally, her knuckles whitening around the neck of the violin. “I’ll talk to him. But first I think I’d really like a shower.”
“Yeah. You kinda smell.”
She snorted, her mouth twitching, both of us understanding the need to not be bathed in one’s filth while standing before one’s destiny. “Jesus, I hope I can stand.”
“Well your gown’s so ripe it could damn near walk you over there by itself, so I think you’ll be fine.”
Our smiles covered up the worry behind the words and I went into the bathroom to start the water for her—partially to help out and partially to give her the privacy she needed to make sure everything still moved all right.
A knock at the door snagged my attention. “I’ll get it!” I bolted to the front of her room, catching her hastily wrapping the blanket around her now mostly undressed form.
I cracked the door to see Brystion and Nobu standing there. Ion had a tray of something that smelled baconlike and my stomach growled in appreciation.
Nobu craned his head around the crack. “I heard the shower.”
“Yeah. She’s awake.” I held my hand up, my foot shoved neatly behind the door before he could force his way through. “But she needs some alone time. You know, girl stuff.”
“Move or I’ll break down the damned door,” Nobu snarled.
“It’s all right,” Melanie said softly from the edge of the bed. A quick glance behind me indicated she was bedraggled but presentable, a deep sadness still wavering in her eyes. She nodded once at me and I stepped back, tripping over my own feet at the speed in which the daemon thrust his way into the room.
“Seriously?” I turned to snap at him, my jaw dropping as my gaze met Mel’s. Nobu knelt on the floor at her feet, his head leaning against the bed, but not quite touching her. When her fingers laced through the spill of his liquid dark hair, the barest of tremors rolled through his shoulders.
She bit her lip. As the first tears streaked down her face, I slipped out the door and quietly shut it behind me. Snagging the tray from a bemused Brystion, I found an empty seat on the couch.
“I suppose someone has figured out which side he’s on after all,” I murmured, wondering what it meant for them now that he’d touched her. And then decided it wasn’t my problem.
Sighing, I proceeded to stuff my face, glancing up between bites to assess who else was still here.
Robert and Charlie were whispering in the corner, Benjamin playing at Charlie’s feet. Brandon was gone, but judging by the time he had probably needed to go open the Hallows. And there was Phin, chatting with Didi . . .
“Oh, shit. I totally forgot to call you.”
The pixie gave me a sour look. “Do you have any idea how many piss-scented subway cars I rode? I had a stoner chase me up two flights of stairs clapping his hands and screaming about how he was going to take me home and smoke my sparkles.” Her face squinched up. “Clap if you believe! Clap if you believe!”
I sniggered into my bowl of mac-n-cheese (with bacon!), smooshing it around with my fork until I regained my composure. “I’m sorry. I am.”
She scowled. “Whatever. I’m glad she was found, but next time—”
“Hopefully there won’t be a next time,” Ion interjected, nudging my arm. “Eat.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So how is she?” Phineas finally asked, his tail twitching.
“Awake,” I said helpfully. “She’s very weak, but the close proximity to the violin seems to have helped a lot. Hopefully with some solid food and a bit of real rest, she’ll be up to the task.”
“We may not have much time to wait,” Robert said, tapping his fingers on the table. “Each second is a second wasted.”
“And what good would it do for her to go off halfcocked and so sick she can barely play?” I retorted. “You know her. She’ll play herself to death if she thinks she has to.”
He said n
othing, his eyes dropping to where Benjamin rolled aimlessly about on the floor. “For someone who seems to have so easily thrown herself upon the mercy of the enemy, you’re hardly one to talk, Abby.”
“I was trying to fix things,” I snapped, the fork slamming into the bowl with a clank.
“Would you deny your friend any less?” Brystion said softly. “She’ll know the risks involved.”
I stood up swiftly and hurried into the kitchen without looking at them, rinsing the bowl out with a savage swipe of sponge. The kitchen held so many familiar memories. Me and Melanie at the table with Brandon, sipping absinthe. Me dancing a halfhearted jig as she played on the fly. An all-night movie session of Sixteen Candles and The Breakfast Club and Fiddler on the Roof, curled up on that ragged little sofa.
I shook my head against them. No, I couldn’t deny her the right to try to help, but it still hurt like hell to think I might lose her.
And now maybe you understand why she was upset enough to leave?
My inner voice pointed it out calmly, but I had no answer for it. Double standards were a bitch.
I set the dishes in the drain, staring absently at a glassy water droplet sliding over the edge to puddle on the counter. Behind me, a murmur of voices stirred up and I sighed. What new crisis could possibly have been created in the last two minutes?
Tossing the dish towel onto the counter, I thrust my hands into my pockets and leaned against the doorjamb, my mouth pursing as I saw Moira standing there, wrapped in her supreme regal coolness.
Not that she was looking at me at all.
Or anyone, for that matter, other than Benjamin. The elf stared at her child, her face paling, and I realized she hadn’t actually seen him since before I died. When she left him with me and her brother.
Months.
I wasn’t sure I understood how she managed to keep her composure, but an odd flash of regret twisted her mouth as she sank to her knees. Charlie let out a strangled sound and stalked away and past me into the kitchen, her eyes not meeting mine. And Robert . . .
Robert picked up Benjamin and held him out to his mother without a word. Benjamin’s wings spread out and he uttered a soft cry and turned away from the elf. Moira froze, her face ashen.
