Yield the Night

by Annette Marie

  She wished they could leave. Just sitting here made her want to scream, but the last rays of sunlight were disappearing behind the mountains. According to Miysis, it was too dangerous to travel at night. The path was treacherous, and lighting their way would attract all sorts of unpleasant attention, from both the natural predators of the area and the ryujin. No one, not even Piper, trusted that a second encounter with the ryujin would go as well as the first. There was no way to know if the one ryujin she’d met had been the norm or an exception to the caste’s violent reputation. Miysis had decided they would camp among the trees for the night. Piper didn’t expect to sleep.

  A little ways away, Seiya reclined against a tree, Zala in her lap. She’d taken Piper completely by surprise by saying how sorry she was that the healer wouldn’t be able to help her. Piper didn’t know whether she believed Seiya’s apparent sincerity.

  She rubbed both hands over her face. So many emotions were jammed inside her that none of them could get out, leaving her outwardly calm while panic whirled around in her head. Her chances of survival had dropped to single digit percentages now. And the most painful wound of all came from knowing that it was her mother’s fault that she was probably going to die. She’d been planning to find her father and uncle as soon as she got back; they still thought she’d died in the Consulate explosion. But maybe it would be kinder to let them continue to believe that she was dead. She couldn’t even imagine their reactions to the news that she’d died because of her mother’s crazed ambitions.

  The first tears welled in her eyes at the agony of the betrayal. She blinked them back.

  “We should start planning,” Lyre said, still trying to hide his apprehension. “You know the names of these hybrid women, right Piper? I can search for records on them while you go to the Gaians for information.”

  She pulled in a deep breath and let it out. “Yeah, there were three. Calanthe Nike—no, Nikas. And Raina ... G-something. Umm. Golkin? Glovin?”

  “Golovkin?” Lyre guessed.

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “And the third?”

  “Um, Natania something. Natania ... Roth.”

  She fell silent, staring at nothing. Natania. The name was familiar—really familiar. She tried to push away the spinning urgency so she could think. How did she know that name? It had seemed familiar when Mona had first mentioned it, but she’d had more important things on her mind at the time.

  Natania. She heard the name in her mind, spoken by a male voice like music, beautiful and crystalline. Natania. The name again, this time murmured by a voice like silk, deep and powerful.

  And the connection she should have made when she’d first heard the name clicked.

  “Oh,” she breathed, eyes wide.

  “What?” Lyre demanded. Ash straightened, turning toward her.

  “Uh—nothing. Nothing. I was just thinking. So, Natania Roth is the third one. Do any of the names sound familiar?”

  Lyre shook his head. “I’m sure we can find something on them though.”

  Piper rather doubted it. There hadn’t been a method for storing information since before the Third World War, but maybe daemons had their own record-keeping systems. She hoped so. Her thoughts returned to Natania and she bit her lip.

  Miysis and Koen appeared from the shadows, stepping out from the trees and onto the trail. Koen was dirt-smudged but Miysis looked as perfect as ever—as she’d suspected.

  “It’s done,” he said, green eyes catching the last of the sunlight. “Does anyone want to say some words?”

  Piper shook her head. She didn’t know Vejovis well enough, and it wouldn’t feel right knowing she was far more upset that he couldn’t save her life than she was about him being dead. Maybe the ryujin would bless his grave, though she doubted it. Whatever his agreement with them had been, they hadn’t noticed—or hadn’t cared—about him being killed.

  “We might as well set up camp here,” Koen said, his voice nearly as musical as Miysis’s. “There likely aren’t any better places nearby, and we’re far enough from the river, I think.”

  Miysis nodded and Koen turned to the stack of packs that he and his fellow bodyguards had been carrying for the group. After passing out blankets and rations, he and Miysis sat on a mossy root, talking quietly about the journey back. The last light of the sun vanished, plunging the forest into even darker shadows with abrupt speed. The glow of the blue pods brightened noticeably, though the light was too dim to do more than create strange, swaying spots of light in the black forest.

  Piper stared upward at the unseen treetops. The river murmured its song somewhere in the distance, and the breeze whispered through the leaves. The night was beautiful, peaceful, but she sat as tense as a pole, hands clamped between her knees.

  Lyre shook out his blanket with a sigh. “Sleeping on the ground,” he grumbled. He cast a sideways glance at her and shifted closer until their hips touched. “It’ll probably be cold during the night. We should really share a blanket, just to be safe.”

  “You think?” she said dryly.

  “Definitely. You need to keep up your strength. In fact, we can share our body heat more effectively without our clothes on.”

  She snorted. “I think I’ll be fine.”

  “Well, if you change your mind—”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll let you know.”

  Lyre sighed rather wistfully and stood, searching for a flat spot to lay his blanket. Piper watched him move away, then glanced toward Ash. In his dark clothing, he was nearly invisible. He still leaned against a tree, eyes turned toward the distance, folded blanket tucked under one arm.

  Leaving her blanket on the root, she rose, and with a quick glance to see Seiya spreading her own blanket out, she tiptoed over to Ash.

  “Hey,” she whispered. “Can we talk?”

  He glanced toward the others.

  “Privately?” she added.

  He nodded and tossed his blanket over with hers. With a similar glance toward his sister, he took her hand and pulled her down the path. He could see—or sense—the trail far better than she could. She walked after him, trying to be quiet. A little ways away, he turned into the trees, the soft moss completely absorbing their footsteps.

  He stopped. She looked around, unable to see or hear the others. Or see much of anything, in fact, except for the glowing spots of blue among the trees.

  “Um,” she said, blinking at him. All she could see was the outline of his body, a darker shadow against the rest. His hand was still holding hers, fingers warm and reassuring.

  A tiny light appeared, glowing in the palm of his other hand, too dim to be seen beyond the tiny circle of space in which they stood. It lit his face from beneath, casting harsh shadows over his jaw and cheekbones. For a moment, she forgot what she’d been going to say, transfixed by his dark eyes looking into hers, sliding right down to her soul.

  He lifted his hand, tossing the light into the air. It stuck in place, hanging there as if suspended by an invisible wire.

  “Ah,” she tried again, keeping her voice low without actually whispering. “I, uh, need to tell you something.”

  He nodded again. She wished he would speak. Her voice sounded so loud in her ears, even though she was barely murmuring. She held his hand tighter.

  “And it’s going to sound crazy, but bear with me, okay?”

  He sighed. “Just spit it out, Piper.”

  She shivered, his voice caressing her down to her bones.

  “Right,” she said breathlessly. Gathering herself, she cautiously began, “You remember how I used the Sahar to break that gold collar Samael made me wear, right?”

  Surprise flickered across his face—not the topic he’d been expecting. “Yes.”

  “Well, when I broke it, I passed out for a few minutes. And while I was unconscious, I ... had a vision.”

  “A vision?” he repeated blankly.

  “Yeah. Keeping an open mind, remember? This vision was from the perspective of
another person, like I was reliving someone else’s memories. Her name was Natania.”

  His eyebrows rose.

  “Natania was meeting with two daemons,” she said quickly. “Her, ah, lovers. One was a draconian and one was a Ra and she called them Nyrtaroth and Maahes.”

  His eyes widened slightly and he gestured for her to continue.

  “So Natania meets with the two of them, and Maahes asks her if she’ll help them complete their special lodestone. After she agrees, he surprises her with a spell that puts her to sleep, but she resists long enough to overhear their conversation.” She let out a breath. “They discussed how they were going to kill her to make their lodestone, because the strongest emotion comes from a human soul while the strongest magic comes from the soul of a daemon, so they needed the soul of a hybrid haemon to complete their lodestone.”

  Ash rubbed a hand through his hair. “You saw this in a vision? Like a dream?”

  “Sort of, but it wasn’t nonsensical like a dream. It was more like a flashback, except it wasn’t my memory.”

  “So you think,” he said carefully, “that the Sahar was made by imprisoning this Natania woman’s soul inside it, and your vision was one of her memories?”

  Piper licked her lips and nodded. “Pretty much, yeah.”

  He frowned. The silence stretched, but she waited, knowing he was weighing her words carefully. Her fingers involuntarily closed tighter around his. He always took her seriously; she couldn’t think of a single person who wouldn’t have gone ten rounds with her about whether it was just a dream before actually considering the possibility that it wasn’t.

  “The name coincidence is too much,” he finally muttered. “The girl in your vision is named Natania, and there’s a famous hybrid haemon from hundreds of years ago with the same name. You didn’t find out about the haemon woman until your mother told you a few days ago, right?”

  She let out a relieved sigh. He didn’t think she was crazy. “Yes. I didn’t mention the vision before because I was afraid it was just a vivid dream, but the name made me realize that it probably wasn’t. And the thing about the Sahar being made from a person’s soul ...”

  He nodded. “A soul would make sense. It’s utterly abhorrent, but it makes sense. We siphon emotional energy from humans to charge lodestones. An unlimited lodestone would need some kind of power source.”

  Piper shivered, disturbed for a moment by how much Ash sounded like Nyrtaroth.

  “I can’t deny I felt something alive in the Sahar,” he continued. “I thought it was ancient magic that had taken on a life of its own, but maybe the Sahar started out as something—someone—who was truly alive.”

  He focused on her again, eyes sharp. “That can’t be all you wanted to tell me.”

  “Well, Natania was like me. A hybrid haemon. But she clearly wasn’t dying. In fact, she was as powerful as a daemon. That means she must have figured out the secret to surviving her magic.”

  His eyes lit with a sudden spark of hope. “So if she knew the secret—”

  “And her soul—her memories—are inside the Sahar, then maybe I can find out the secret from her.” She squeezed his hand. “I already relived one of her memories. If I can see into her memories again, maybe I can find the answer.”

  “Do you know how you saw the first memory?”

  “I lost consciousness while tapping the Sahar’s power. That’s all I know.”

  He frowned. “That’s a risk. You know what happens when you use the power. And I can’t take the Stone away from you without ...”

  She nodded. She had no desire to see him driven mad by the Sahar’s violent power ever again. He’d almost killed her the last time.

  “We’ll have to figure out a safe way to do it,” she said. “When we return to Earth, you can get the Stone from wherever you—”

  “Actually ...”

  “What?”

  He rolled his eyes toward the sky, avoiding her gaze. “Ah, well. We don’t have to wait until we’re back. The Sahar is here.”

  “You brought it? But you—you told Miysis—”

  “I don’t have it on me. But I couldn’t leave it behind unguarded.”

  She spluttered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t tell anyone.”

  “So where is it?”

  He gave a low whistle. With a quiet rustle, Zwi dropped out of the darkness, wings flared, and landed on his shoulder.

  Piper stared. “You mean—you mean Zwi has it?”

  Zwi fluffed her mane with satisfied self-importance.

  “No one can catch Zwi if she doesn’t want to be caught. And I always know where she is, so the Stone is perfectly safe.”

  “Huh.”

  He released Piper’s hand and pulled Zwi into his arms. He unbuckled the leather armor on her chest and flipped the breastplate over to reveal a leather bag sewn into it. Zwi hopped onto his shoulder. Tearing off the bag, he dumped the Sahar into his palm. The oval stone shone silvery blue in the dim light hovering above their heads. Piper clenched and unclenched her hands. Memories of the Sahar’s limitless power—and limitless rage—swirled through her head. She really didn’t know how she felt about seeing it again.

  “We need to figure out a safe way to do this,” he said. “Not only to keep you from losing control, but also to make sure these visions are safe. This is completely uncharted territory for me.”

  “Well, I don’t have a lot to lose at this point.”

  His eyes darkened, his expression going tight. She remembered again the look in those eyes when he whispered that he couldn’t take it anymore, thinking she was dead.

  “We can’t put anyone else at risk if I go crazy with the Sahar’s power,” she added. “But if you can’t take it away from me ...”

  “That won’t be a problem.”

  Ash and Piper both jerked in surprise at the unexpected voice. Zwi screeched angrily, her scales turning red with menace. Piper whirled around and her jaw dropped as alarm rushed through her.

  Miysis leaned casually against a tree, a few steps away.

  “You—where did you come from?” she stuttered.

  “This is my world,” he said coolly, a purr touching his melodic voice. “I know how to hide here far better than you.”

  “How long were you there?” she demanded.

  “The entire time.”

  Ash swore. He held the Sahar in one clenched hand, his eyes black. He was ready to fight for it, but Miysis didn’t move.

  “I’d hoped, despite your earlier assertion, that you had brought the Sahar with you. It makes matters so much simpler.”

  Piper pressed her lips together.

  “Piper needs to be unconscious to tap these memories,” Miysis continued. “So I don’t see why we need to be concerned about stopping her from going on a rampage. The moment she taps the Sahar, hit her with a sleep spell. Simple.”

  Piper and Ash exchanged a quick look.

  “Between the two of us,” Miysis said, “we can put her down before she causes any trouble.”

  “You’re going to help?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Of course. I don’t want you to die.” He flicked a glance at Ash’s hand, where the Sahar was hidden. “And that is already mine. Our agreement was for you to give it to me after I found Vejovis, which I have done. But I will loan it to you for your experiment.”

  Piper quashed a scowl at his arrogance. She could use all the help she could get, so no point in arguing.

  After a moment’s discussion, they sat down with Piper in the middle, Ash behind her, and Miysis in front. Ash handed her the Sahar, then lightly touched his fingertips to her temples, ready to put her to sleep. Miysis kneeled in front of her, green eyes intense, ready to call out the exact moment for Ash to spell her.

  “Try for a light connection first,” Ash murmured. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  She swallowed hard. “Are you guys sure about this?”

  “Go ahead, Piper,” Miysis said.
“You’re sitting between two of the most powerful daemons of our generation. I think we can handle you.”

  Not bothering to hide her scowl this time, she looked down at the Sahar in her hand. It was heavier than it looked, cool in her palm, and tingled against her skin with a strange kind of alien life—a soul trapped inside a stone prison.

  “Okay,” she said on a heavy exhale. “Here I go.”

  Closing her eyes, she mentally reached for the Sahar’s power. When she’d first begun using it consciously, she’d had to think violent thoughts to trigger the Stone. But with all the practice she’d gotten while escaping Asphodel, it was now as easy as turning her thoughts toward the waiting power and letting it rush in.

  And rush it did. It exploded inside her on a wave of burning rage and poisonous hatred. The power lit her blood on fire, electricity under her skin, ready to strike.

  “Now,” Miysis said.

  Tingles rushed across her skin where Ash touched her. Darkness instantly closed over her.

  CHAPTER 17

  SHE SAT on the cushioned stool and methodically pulled the brush through her golden hair, humming softly. Her reflection smiled mysteriously in the mirror, cheeks flushed a pretty pink, blue eyes large and sparkling with contentment. She pulled the brush through another lock. There were no tangles; she simply enjoyed the motion, the soft pull of the brush, the silky feel of her hair.

  Her gaze drifted across the mirror to the reflection of the bed and to the one who reclined in it.

  Dark hair and commanding grey eyes. He was in glamour, a rare choice for him, but it was not often she saw him so relaxed. He lounged atop the quilted blankets, propped on a pillow, his hair tousled. He wore only casual slacks, his muscular chest cast in sharp relief by the dim lamp on her dresser. In his hand was a handful of papers, his eyes tracing the notes he and his partner had detailed on their last meeting.

  She smiled as she watched him in the mirror. Her magnificent dark moon. She missed his wings though. It was such fun to tease him when he was out of glamour. A light touch on his wings was all it took to make him shiver and retreat. She knew it was a pleasant sensation, but he didn’t like it. Still, she teased him anyway. Exploiting that simple weakness—that small power she could claim over such a powerful man—always delighted her.