by Sarah Piper
She opened her mouth, then closed it, nodding somberly. “You’re right. That could’ve been a lot worse than it was. I didn’t realize I had the power to do… whatever that was. Not with animals.”
“It’s another form of necromancy, of which there are many,” I said. “And this was not the first time you’ve done such a thing.”
“What? But I’ve never…” I watched as she combed through the archives of memory, the realization slackening her jaw. “Oh my God. The mice? But… I thought I’d healed them.”
“No, Gray. You merely brought them back, like you did tonight.”
She sat on the grass and pulled her knees to her chest.
“Gray?” Emilio sat down next to her. “What’s he talking about, querida?”
She pressed her forehead to her knees and sighed. “Back in Phoenicia, before everything… you know. There was this stray cat that used to come around, blind in one eye, skinny as hell. Calla wouldn’t let him in the house—she’d said he’d been around for years, and that he simply preferred to be wild. But I used to leave food outside for him anyway.”
“Of course you did,” Darius said fondly.
Gray lifted her head and smiled, but it quickly dimmed as she continued her story.
“One time I went out there to leave him some milk, and I found he’d left something for me instead—six dead field mice and a robin. I know it’s supposed to be this great honor when cat’s do that, but I was horrified.” She pulled her hands inside the sleeves of her sweatshirt and hugged her knees close again. “I tried to do a healing spell on them. I just focused all my intent on making them okay, so when they started moving again, I really thought I’d… God. I can’t believe I resurrected them. I turned them into those… those things.”
Gray shuddered at her memory, and the human vessel I’d chosen began to malfunction. Why else would I feel a sharp pain in my chest at her words? What was it in this collection of bone and muscle and blood that made me ache to touch her, to comfort her as the others did?
No matter. Her destiny was more important than the whims of my very human, very fallible body.
“Gray, we must leave now,” I said. “You’re at a critical point in your magical learning, and if we don’t—”
“I can’t,” she said simply. “Not until I help my friends. The hunter has them in some kind of prison. I’m sure of it.”
“How can you be certain they’re even alive?” I asked.
“Can’t you feel it?”
“I’m not… connected to them in the way I’m connected to you. I feel many things, all at once, backward and forward. Time is irrelevant. Only you are clear.”
“Wait.” She got to her feet, looking at me with new eyes. “How long have you… known me? Or sensed me like that?”
“Twenty-five years, seven months, four days, and nine hours, give or take a few hours, adjusting for differences in local time zones and seasonal—”
“My entire life. You’ve been watching me my entire life.” Her sadness turned suddenly to anger, though I couldn’t comprehend why. “Well, you’ve got Ronan beat there.”
The demon in question sighed. “Gray, it’s not—”
“Show of hands,” she said, raising her own. “Who here doesn’t know my life story?”
No one moved.
“So just me, then,” she said. “Great. Hey, my birthday’s in a couple months. Here’s a fun gift idea—maybe you could all put together a little scrapbook for me.”
She swiped at her eyes with her sleeves, then crouched down to pick up her book. I thought one of the others would go to her, touch her as they always did, try to take away her pain.
But they remained still.
“You are Shadowborn, Gray,” I said matter-of-factly.
“So you keep saying.”
“I am connected to all Shadowborn beings, across all realms and time periods. It’s not a choice, but it is a privilege. One I take quite seriously.”
She lowered her eyes, seemingly unconvinced.
“None of us knows your life story,” I assured her. “That is something only you can know.”
“But I don’t, Liam. That’s the problem. My memories are faulty—you just proved that with the story about the mice. I don’t even know how I got to the Bay or what led up to it—only that these guys found me and took me in. Which, by the way, I also don’t remember. So much of my life is just a big… blank.”
“Memories do not exist,” I assured her. “Not in the way you believe.”
“They don’t exist for you, because you don’t live in one time and place like we do,” she said. “That doesn’t mean they aren’t important.”
“They are only important because you make them so. Memory is a time-bound construct that has no more bearing on this moment than anxieties about a future you cannot possibly know.”
“That’s real Zen of you, Liam, but that’s not how humanity works. We are made by our memories. Shaped by them, every time we take them out and polish them up again for another look, hoping to see something we missed the first time around. We change them as much as they change us, and the cycle never ends.”
“And that, little witch, is your fatal flaw.” I offered a sad smile. This was not the first time I’d had this conversation with a human, and it would not be the last. I feared that when their world finally ceased to exist again, it would not have been war or famine this time that proved to be their fatal undoing, but their inability to live in the present, haunted endlessly by a past that no longer existed for them and a future that hadn’t yet dawned.
“Alas,” I said, certain I’d no more change her mind than I had anyone else’s, “life stories are just that. Stories, constantly created and revised, moment by moment. And no matter what anyone tells you, no one can write yours but you.”
She was quiet a long moment after that—all of them were. As fiercely protective of her as they’d been, they seemed to be waiting for her to make the next call on her own.
“Well, here’s the story we’re dealing with right now,” she finally said, her voice heavy with exhaustion. “The witches are still alive—you’ll have to take my word on that. I’ve managed to bond with earth magic and reconnect with my book, which means I’m more powerful than I was even a week ago, though I still can’t control it, obviously. And the hunter has to know we’re looking for him. Best guess, he’s either licking his wounds after you guys decimated his vampire squad, or he’s focusing on the captive witches. Either way, I have no doubts he’ll come after me again soon.”
“Agreed,” Darius said, and the others nodded. “You’re safe at the house here, but staying at the house means you can’t help us search for the witches.”
“Not an option,” she confirmed.
“Well, the bastard doesn’t know you’ve leveled up,” Ronan said. “So we’ve got an advantage there.”
“He also doesn’t know I can scry,” she said.
Darius raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“More plot,” Asher said. “We’ll fill you in later.”
“I was able to see Reva in the flames tonight,” Gray continued, “and I believe she and the others are being held in a cavern, probably close to the ocean.”
“So now that we’re all here,” Asher said, “what’s the next play?”
Gray locked eyes with him, some new understanding passing between them.
I had no idea what, if anything, had happened since I’d last seen them, but it seemed they’d worked out their differences.
“The play is… I need training,” she finally said. “Serious, hardcore, dedicated training.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” I said, relieved she’d finally come around. “We can begin with—”
“Magical and physical,” she said. “And I’d really love it if you guys could help.”
“That goes without saying, querida,” Emilio said, and the others grunted out their agreement.
Her earthly concerns were not my p
riority, but they were hers. As much as I wanted to ferry her away to the realm, I knew she’d never come to embrace her true destiny if she didn’t accomplish her tasks here first.
So when she looked at me for my response, I nodded brusquely and said, “I believe this is the first time all five of us are in agreement.”
Gray smiled, but there was no humor in her eyes, and the earlier exhaustion in her voice was quickly giving way to the fierce determination I knew she was capable of.
“We need to find that prison and save the witches,” she said. “Their lives are the priority. But once I know they’re safe?”
She met my gaze as if the answer was intended for me alone. The look in her eyes sent a shockwave through my vessel—some icy, primordial emotion that tightened my chest and raised the hairs on the back of my neck.
Fear.
It was a human response to a perceived threat, though I couldn’t understand why my body suddenly found her threatening.
“Gray?” I prompted. “What is it?”
The breeze whispered through the pines and stirred her hair, gently blowing the curls away from her face to reveal the grim set of her jaw. She clutched the book of shadows to her chest. Then, as smooth as water flowing over stones, she held out a hand before her, and a flame ignited in her palm, blue and beautiful and brighter than the moon.
The ferocity in her eyes took on a sinister cast in the glow, and in a voice all the more treacherous for its eerie calm, she made her proclamation.
“I’m going to watch him burn.”
Seven
GRAY
Back at the house, the walk from my bedroom to Ronan’s at the other end of the hall felt like a thousand miles, and when I finally reached up and knocked on the door, the sound of it made me jump.
“Come in,” he said, and my heart rate kicked into overdrive. I’d just showered and changed into clean pajamas, but already I was sweating again.
Ronan and I hadn’t been alone since we’d spent that one blissful night in each other’s arms, just before we’d rescued Asher from Norah’s attic.
There hadn’t been time to talk after that.
But now there was.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped into his room.
This side of the house had high, slanted ceilings, and through a row of skylights over the bed, the full moon winked down at us from above.
He’d also lit candles, always preferring them to artificial light, and I shut the door behind me, taking in the welcome sight of him in the flickering glow.
His thin beard had filled in a bit more, but his cheeks looked hollow, his eyes haunted.
“Hey,” he said softly, a smile touching his lips.
All the time we’d spent together, all the years we’d been friends, I’d never felt as nervous and awkward as I did just then, suddenly conscious of dumb things like whether I was slouching too much or my shirt was too see-through or what I should’ve been doing with my hands. They’d made incredible, awe-inspiring magic tonight, yet now they felt like two slabs of ham dangling at my sides.
Why didn’t these useless pajamas have pockets?
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, it’s just… It’s been a long couple of days.”
“Asher giving you a hard time?”
I shrugged and leaned back against the door, not even sure how to answer that question. “I don’t want to talk about Asher right now. I came to say… I mean, I wanted… I was thinking…”
I closed my eyes, searching for the words again.
There was a time in our relationship—not that long ago, actually—when being around Ronan didn’t leave me tongue-tied and stupid. But when I opened my eyes and found his autumn-hazel gaze looking back at me now, those days felt like a million years ago.
Being friends was different. I could be my fumbling, imperfect self and know that Ronan would still be there, looking at me as he always had.
But love? Love made me want to be better. To be perfect. To stoke the embers in his eyes into a red-hot, roaring fire.
Just-friends made me feel safe.
Love was making me feel crazy.
Maybe that was part of the package.
Ronan stepped closer, pressing his hands against the door and boxing me in with his arms. The fire in his eyes had already kindled, and as he swept his gaze down to my mouth, the flames spread straight to my core, heat licking between my thighs.
“I, um… I wanted to apologize about before,” I stammered. “I didn’t mean to bring up that stuff about my past and—”
“Apology accepted.” The fire in his eyes blazed, and he leaned in close, capturing my mouth in a kiss.
Relief mingled with pleasure, and I sighed, parting my lips and welcoming the now-familiar taste of him on my tongue.
Ronan lifted me up and carried me to the bed, crashing down on top of me, kissing every inch of the skin he exposed as he peeled off my pajamas. Moments later he was naked, too, settling between my thighs, exactly where I needed him most.
I closed my eyes and whispered his name, threading my fingers into his silky hair as my body relaxed under the delicious weight of his, and it felt so, so right.
I knew how this would end. It might not happen tomorrow, or in a month, or even in five years. But it would happen. Ronan was my demon guardian; when I died, he’d have no choice but to deliver my soul to the demon who held my contract.
Ronan knew it, too.
But despite our already-scripted end, I could no more have walked away from him than I could’ve stopped the magic bubbling inside me. Both were part of my destiny, however tangled and complicated it may have been.
I suspected Ronan felt the same, and here in his bedroom, tangled up in the sheets as he finally slid inside me, kissing me as if the world were burning, there was no more awkwardness between us. No distance or discomfort. Only love and friendship and connectedness and the warm, familiar touch I’d come to know.
To crave.
After spending the last handful of days apart, neither of us seemed capable of prolonging the exquisite end, and it wasn’t long before I felt my muscles tightening around him, my body so, so close to the edge. Ronan let out a low growl, thrusting harder and faster, the pressure building until we had no choice but to tumble right over that sheer cliff together, spiraling down into pure, white-hot bliss.
Perfection.
After, I lay my head on his chest and closed my eyes, once again finding my home in the strong, steady beat of his heart.
“I hate being away from you,” he whispered into my hair, his arms tightening around me. “Always have.”
“Me, too.” I relaxed into his embrace, letting out a soft sigh. “Did you guys find anything at Norah’s?”
“Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow,” he said. Then, with a low chuckle, “What about you? I was worried Asher would have some kind of bullshit incubus meltdown just so you’d kiss him again.”
“No meltdowns.” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “Only a nasty bite from a zombie cougar, and yes, I kissed him again, but that’s definitely a story for tomorrow.”
“If you keep insisting on collecting boyfriends,” he teased, “we’re going to have to start wearing name tags.”
I sat up at that, pulling the sheet up to cover my bare breasts. “Okay, first of all, Asher is not my boyfriend.”
“Mm-hmm.” Ronan tugged the sheet back down, his lips buzzing lightly over my nipple before trailing up to my earlobe. “And Darius? Is he your not-boyfriend, too?”
“Darius is also not my boyfriend. But… he is someone I care about, yes.”
Ronan didn’t say anything, and my chest tightened.
“Does that bother you?” I asked, hoping I hadn’t hurt his feelings.
Ronan nuzzled my neck and snuggled closer, his hand sliding across my belly, his touch so tender and protective it made my heart swell. “I could never be bothered by anything that makes you happy, Gray. That’s all I want for you. For all of us.�
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“Even Asher?”
“Especially Asher.” He sighed against my skin. “He’s had a rough life. Same goes for Darius and Emilio. I know we’ve all had our differences—and I spend more time fantasizing about beating their asses than is probably healthy—but they’re my brothers. No matter what fucked-up shit happens between us or how much time passes, that won’t change.”
In the short time we’d all been together, I’d sensed that bond among them, rekindling now after many years. It was one of the few silver linings in the black cloud of the witch murders and kidnappings; somehow, it had brought them closer.
A pang of longing hit my chest, but it was short-lived. Ronan, who always seemed to know exactly what I needed, kissed my shoulder.
“You’re part of that now, too,” he said. “Part of us. You have been for a long time.” Ronan grinned, nudging me with his nose. “So if you wanted to start collecting boyfriends…”
I flashed him a devious grin. “You’re okay with sharing. That’s what you’re saying?”
“As long as I’m your favorite.” Ronan bit my neck, making me squeal.
“Well that’s hardly fair,” I said. “I’ll have to give you monthly reviews to make an objective determination. I’ll call it the boyfriend assessment test—BAT for short.”
“What? Asher’s an incubus, for fuck’s sake! He’s got a built-in competitive advantage!”
“Better bring your A-game, Vacarro.” I cracked up, surprised at the direction this conversation had taken. Surprised at the direction I had taken.
The intensity of my feelings for Ronan was blinding. For so long, I’d truly believed that the heart wasn’t built to contain so much love—not for more than one person.
But maybe I’d been wrong.
I hadn’t known the other guys long enough to start throwing around words like feelings or—god forbid—love. But the more time I spent with them, the more I felt my heart expanding, making room for the possibility that love wasn’t something that had to be contained at all.
If love was truly infinite, I reasoned, perhaps our capacity for it should be infinite, too.
“What are you thinking?” Ronan whispered, smoothing the wrinkle between my eyebrows with the heel of his hand. The glint of humor in his eyes had dimmed, leaving the familiar intensity in its place.
