Jason cut him off with a hard, demanding kiss, and Rowan laughed into his mouth, surrendering one hunger to another one, this one far older, far sweeter, and far more urgent to fulfill.
Epilogue
Autumn came early that year, brown strands sneaking into Rowan’s hair even before the heat had relented; by mid-September his eyes were already turning gold, even though it usually took until the beginning of October to see such a change. There was a softness in the evening air that hadn’t been present even a week before.
He knelt beneath the Blessing Tree, settling the carved stone among its roots, then sat back to look over his handiwork.
He had commissioned the same memorial artist who etched names into the gravestones for the Agency—in fact, this was his stone, taken from the cemetery and turned over to be carved on the back. He had fretted over which name to have written on it, but Sara had suggested both; so now the stone bore Kir’s name, and beneath it, Kellan.
There would be another like it in the village once claimed by Clan Yew. Those who remained had discarded the old name and the Way, and were in the process of restoring both sanity and society. The Council had been executed—an unprecedented act on the part of a Clan, but unanimously voted for and carried out quietly, with no fanfare and no ceremony. The Elves who had survived the catastrophe had renamed themselves Clan Ash.
Rowan had been grimly amused by that—the Council had led everyone to believe that Sethen was the sole survivor of Clan Ash, but in truth, there was no Clan Ash. They had chosen the name because in North America rowan trees were also sometimes called “mountain ash.” The new Clan adopted the name partly in his honor, partly out of symbolism, and partly because of the forest climate where they lived. Many of the old members had left, finding relatives in other places, but the new Clan still had about twenty-five Elves, half of them once Silent, all determined to create something beautiful from the ashes of the past.
Almost a month had passed since he had come home. He’d been back on duty for two weeks, and already things were changing; no longer content to stay at the base and wait around to be needed, he’d requested a patrol shift, which had shocked Ness and floored Jason. There had been arguments among the three of them, but Ness had finally agreed to let him go out with another Agent two nights a week with the understanding that he was not to put himself in jeopardy. His psychic abilities were too valuable to the SA to risk on a routine drug bust.
As for those abilities…he had kept the knowledge mostly to himself, but something was different there too. The shields he’d regained were still holding, effortlessly as they had before he had lost them in the first place. Frog hypothesized that the memory magic the Council had used required strong shielding, so they had imposed the barriers into his mind and then made him forget he had the power to control them.
But beneath the shields, his powers were growing. Steadily. He was afraid to mention it to anyone official, but of course Jason was aware of it…because since the Agents had done the spell that found Rowan, he and Jason had become aware of each other in a way they never had before. It wasn’t anything obvious, but they constantly knew how to find each other anywhere in Austin, and sharing thoughts was as clear as if they were standing face to face.
It had also elevated their sex life from “phenomenal” to “shifting the laws of physics.”
Jason had actually finished his bereavement leave instead of going back to work, so they had stayed in bed for almost an entire week, only emerging to eat (which ended in sex), to shower (which ended in sex and another shower), and entertain the occasional guest who dropped by to welcome Rowan home (which ended in sex as soon as they were alone again).
Things were settling back into routine, though, and he was glad. Even with the changes, he had come to realize how much he loved his life here, and his work.
He’d also remembered how much he loved food, and he’d gained enough weight that Nava had stopped mumbling about post-chemotherapy nutrient milkshakes, and when he looked in the mirror he recognized himself much more easily.
Then too, he’d asked Beck to teach him more about martial arts, so the extra strength he’d acquired as a Guardian had no time to atrophy. She had remarked more than once that he was “mighty butch these days.”
He had looked over from the practice ring to see Jason watching their sparring session, staring wide-eyed at his lover’s bare upper arms in one of the vampire’s “wife beater” shirts and standing there, transfixed (which ended in sex).
Bringing himself back to the present, Rowan got to his feet, brushing the dirt off his knees.
He thought back to the last time he’d stood here; there were still one or two ribbons hanging in the branches, over a year later, faded from the sun and tattered by the wind. He remembered Sara reading the traditional Elven text and then giving her own blessing over their lives together; he remembered the energy he’d felt moving through them that night, energy he recognized now as the indefinable thing that had led Jason to him.
As if on cue, he felt the vampire’s presence emerging from the building into the courtyard, and he smiled. A moment later arms moved around him from behind, holding him close, and Jason rested his head on Rowan’s shoulder with a sigh.
“I wish you could have met him,” Rowan said.
Jason kissed the side of his neck, still bare—Rowan hadn’t let his hair start growing out yet, and was still deciding if he wanted to at all. It was rather nice not to have someone roll over onto it in the middle of the night and jerk him awake. “So do I.”
“What’s your schedule like tonight?”
Jason, still occupied with placing a line of kisses along his skin, spoke inbetween each one, bringing another smile to Rowan’s lips. “New case. Necromancy. Should be a real laugh riot. You?”
“I’m in the lab tonight with Frog. He’s still researching the memory spells and needs an Elvish translator. Then I have a psychic assessment session with that new trainee, and a sparring match with Beck.”
“Mmm…hope I have time to come watch.”
Rowan turned in the embrace and flicked his tongue over Jason’s lips, eliciting a groan. “Try to get done early. I have plans for you later.”
Jason bit him firmly on the ear, and this time Rowan made an appreciative noise. Jason chuckled, then pulled away slightly and reached into his coat. “I have something for you.”
Rowan made a face at him. “That line didn’t work last night and it’s not going to work tonight.”
“No, I mean it.” He withdrew a small box, and held it out, flipping the lid open.
Rowan put a hand to his mouth in surprise. “Oh…you fixed it!”
“Ardeth did. I sent it with him when you came home. He was more than a little pissed that they managed to break it, so he did something to it to make the metal even harder.”
Rowan held out his hand, and Jason took it, pressing the palm to his face for a moment before asking, “Is it still your will to pledge your heart to mine?”
Rowan nodded, his heart so full that it seemed to fill his entire body. “It is. Today and as long as I draw breath.”
Jason took the bracelet from the box and fastened it around Rowan’s wrist, where the silver settled as if it had never been parted from him.
Something inside him that had still been hurting finally released, and he breathed out the last of his sorrow as Jason took him into his arms and kissed him again, while a rain of leaves shook themselves free from the Blessing Tree and tumbled down all around them, bearing witness.
line-share-buttons">share
The Agency, Volume II Page 35
