Shadow Rising (The Shadow World Book 7)

by Dianne Sylvan

  “Care to elaborate?” Deven asked wryly.

  “Hold on.”

  Now Deven sighed. Miranda knew he was as annoyed with David’s behavior as she was, perhaps more. “I hope you’re planning to at least be present in conversation with our guests,” he said. “They did fly all the way here from Europe, after all—they might like to actually see your entire face for a minute.”

  “That’s why I’m running a systems check now,” David said shortly. It wasn’t quite a snap, but close enough. “To get it out of the way. In case you hadn’t noticed I do have a lot going on right now.”

  “I have noticed,” was the reply. “And I’ve also noticed that you refuse to let any of us help you even though we have a considerable pool of skills available.”

  “Since when do you want to get involved?” David asked, still not looking up. “You never liked any of the night to night logistics of running a territory. You wanted the fun parts, not the responsibility.”

  Deven sat forward, and Miranda and Nico both sat back at the unexpected anger that crackled suddenly in the air between the Primes. “Excuse me?”

  Miranda knew that tone.

  Luckily so did David.

  And, luckily for the sake of their collective evening, David knew when he had made a mistake.

  He took a deep breath and put away his phone.

  Miranda noticed that David didn’t apologize, but Deven didn’t seem to expect him to. Just the acknowledgment that he’d overstepped was enough.

  Deven might have—for the time being—left leadership behind, but every once in a while he reminded them all that he was still very much a Prime, and that he hadn’t just been David’s lover, he’d been David’s commander. Certain tones of voice and mannerisms, Miranda had noticed, still brought David to heel before the younger vampire even realized what he was doing.

  Nico cleared his throat. “You’re worried about Olivia, David?”

  Blue eyes flicked over to the Elf. There was gratitude there. “Um…worried isn’t really the word.” He picked up his glass again with one hand and twined the other’s fingers with Miranda’s. She squeezed them gently. “Obviously the Signets know what they’re doing. They always have. And they’re getting along, just…” He trailed off as if unsure how to describe the situation.

  “Sometimes it’s not instantaneous,” Deven pointed out, pretending their tense moment hadn’t even occurred. “Look at Jacob and Cora. It took them months to do more than hold hands.”

  “It’s not that. According to Olivia they’re sleeping together. They’re just butting heads a bit more than I would like.”

  “Is Avi trying to take charge?” Miranda asked. “That doesn’t really seem like him, but then, she’s the first female Prime. Centuries of tradition and gender roles are hard to overcome.”

  Deven shook his head. “I doubt it’s anything to do with Avi trying to assert control. Look at their life experience: Avi is a powerful vampire and a skilled warrior, but he’s always been subordinate to someone else. He went from the Mossad to the Israeli Elite, to the Red Shadow, then to your Elite. He can make his own decisions but he’s used to framing that within a set of orders. Olivia was never a full Second since Jeremy was usurped, and she has been out of the Elite for quite a while—she’s used to independence, and she’s been Prime on her own for a couple of years. Neither would have the slightest idea how to create a partnership.”

  “That’s what I’ve observed,” David agreed. “Granted I’ve only seen her side, but it seems like they like each other a lot on a personal level but are having trouble ruling together. He definitely wants an active role, but it’s hard for them to figure out exactly what that is—I suppose that’s where tradition butts in. We all know what Primes are supposed to do and what Consorts—up until recently only Queens—are supposed to do. But they have the chance to completely redefine those roles however they want. The issue is how.”

  “Maybe this weekend will be good for them in that respect,” Miranda mused. “They haven’t had much opportunity to observe other pairs from the perspective of equals. We all have different ways of defining what Prime and Consort mean. That aspect of their relationship will affect the rest—you can’t fully compartmentalize something that goes as deep as your soul.”

  Nods all around.

  Not long after, Cora and Jacob joined them, and Miranda got a better look at the Queen’s forearms without her gloves. Rather than a solid design, the tattoos were almost a combination of flames and vines, winding around her wrists and up to her elbows in a pattern that were intriguingly reminiscent of Nico’s.

  “They’re only two months old,” Cora told them, holding out her arms so they could admire the artwork. “Jacob was not terribly enthusiastic about the idea, but I think he changed his mind once they were done.”

  Jacob smiled at his Queen. Miranda loved how he looked at her—with adoration, of course, but also with pride that was neither paternalistic nor proprietary. He obviously loved watching Cora come into her own, and was excited to see what fruit her blossoming would bear.

  “Well it’s your skin, of course,” the Prime said with a laugh. “And I’ve learned that whenever you get the bit between your teeth about something, there’s no dissuading you, but I admit I wasn’t expecting them to be so…attractive.”

  Miranda studied the tattoos and said, “I love how the color changes as they get closer to your hands.” She looked up at Jacob. “Are you and I the only two people in the room without any tattoos?”

  Jacob and Cora exchanged a look, and Jacob said, “I’m afraid you’re on your own, my Lady. I have a couple of rather old ones from my days as a fighter, and Cora persuaded me to have a small design done that coordinates with hers.”

  Deven raised an eyebrow. “Do we dare speculate where it is?”

  The Prime laughed. “It’s on my chest, don’t worry.”

  Dev looked Miranda up and down and told her, “That means you’re next. If you need suggestions I have a few ideas for you.”

  Miranda felt herself blushing. “I bet you do.”

  He seemed to realize how it had sounded, and she noticed his ears went just the slightest bit pink as well, which made Nico stifle a laugh—Jacob too.

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” Deven insisted, as the stifled laughter turned into actual laughter at his sheepishness. “Tell her, Nico.”

  The Elf grinned. “He’s been doing sketches—I’ve seen them. Nothing salacious, I assure you, though I fear it doesn’t matter—you know how those two are about tattoos. If you ever have any done you’ll never have a peaceful day’s sleep again.”

  “Those two?” David gave Nico a sardonic look. “Good evening, my dear Kettle, this is the Pot calling.”

  Nico blinked. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Never mind,” Deven said, feigning weariness with their behavior. “Cora, light something on fire for us, would you?”

  Miranda started to point out the obvious about being in a room full of wood furniture, but Cora just smiled and held out her hand, palm up. Miranda heard a faint, familiar noise she realized was like a stricken match, and a small flame appeared in the Queen’s hand, floating just a scant half-inch above her skin.

  They all stared at it in sudden, dumbfounded silence.

  Cora, clearly amused by their expressions, continued to smile as she stared at the little flame, and it grew taller, dancing in the study’s warm air. Just like her tattoos, it was blue at the base—a slightly different color than regular fire, Miranda noticed, a little more on the purple side. It faded into more traditional blue, then into yellow-white as it rose. While the fire was bright, it had a strange sort of quality to it that made it easy on their eyes—almost as if the flame was born of darkness as much as they were.

  Cora passed her other hand through it, and opened that palm, the flame transferring from one hand to the other. “I wear the gloves to remind me not to play with fire in pu
blic,” the Queen explained. “Humans find it rather distressing.”

  “So do vampires,” Jacob pointed out. “Let’s not forget all the Elite you’ve spooked walking around with that going on.”

  “You said you found a teacher,” Miranda said. “How long did it take you to learn to do that?”

  “Only a few weeks—my yoga training had enabled me to ground and center very quickly, which is the first step to controlling any gift, as you know. The hardest task was learning not to fear the fire. To view it as my friend, almost as I do Vràna. A companion, a guardian, an ally.”

  “I’ve lit a few candles,” Miranda admitted, “but I don’t think I have enough of it to do much more. I’m kind of relieved to be honest. Fire and empathy seem like a potentially destructive mix.”

  “Fire is destruction,” Cora said, her eyes dancing with the flame in her hands. “But then everything is, in its way.” She closed her fingers around the flame, shrinking it until it vanished. There was no puff of smoke or smell of a snuffed candle; it simply ceased to be. Cora picked up her wine glass as if nothing extraordinary had happened. “We are all creators and destroyers, darkness and light, life and death. Still, it is probably best that we don’t all have the full force of all everyone’s gifts. Controlling one is labor enough.” She looked at Miranda with a hint of mischief. “I can give you some tips, if you like, while we are here. Even without a large dose of the gift it is rather useful.”

  “I’d love that.” Miranda and Cora clinked wine glasses and grinned at each other.

  Conversation continued in an easy, companionable flow; though they all spoke at least occasionally over the phone and internet, it was rare for any Pair to have their allies face to face and just have a chance to spend time together. Miranda felt that sense of rightness again, albeit with a feeling of absence where the rest of the Circle would be soon.

  This is how we’re meant to be. Family.

  She watched, amused, as Vràna gradually snuck closer and closer to Nico until her head slid ninja-like under his hand, and he was rubbing her ears before he knew what had happened. One of the dog’s huge paws hoisted off the ground and came to rest on the Elf’s shin, as if she were hugging his leg. She’d probably have her head in his lap in the next few minutes if he didn’t notice.

  Jacob inclined his head toward the tableau. “Have you ever thought of getting your Consort a Nighthound, Dev? You found Vràna for Cora, after all.”

  “What would you think of that, Nico?” Dev asked, watching the Elf fondly.

  Nico smiled down at the dog, who looked up at him with her tongue lolling out in a canine grin. “I never thought about it.”

  “A guardian like Vràna would help you feel safer walking around the city without us,” Miranda pointed out.

  Jacob was nodding. “She was a godsend for Cora, especially in the beginning, wasn’t she, my Lady?”

  Cora, too, nodded. “I cannot imagine how I would ever have come out of my shell without her, and not only because her size and strength cow most possible threats with any survival instinct. Her presence is grounding—I do not think she is aware of it, but I have leaned on her energy more than once in a moment of panic.”

  Nico’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re saying she does a sort of intuitive magic? That tracks with what I’ve heard from the creature-speakers among my people, as well as Stella’s tales of familiars.” He looked at the rest of the Tetrad a little sheepishly. “Assuming of course that my bondmates would not object to another animal’s continuous presence, the idea is intriguing.”

  “It’s got to be better than that damn cat,” David said. Miranda punched his arm, but he just shrugged. “I love you dearly, my Queen, but that beast is what would happen if a wolverine shagged a cactus. I’ll bet you a hot fudge sundae the boys agree with me on that.”

  Miranda looked at the others, who pretended not to hear for a moment before Nico said, “Well…she shredded the arms of two of our chairs.”

  “And my thigh,” Deven added. “For just a second I thought she was going to let me pet her, then she went berserk and clawsploded all over me.”

  Miranda burst out laughing at the word “clawsploded,” and she wasn’t the only one. “Fine, get a dog,” she managed between cackles. “When she eats all your precious leather goods don’t come crying to me.”

  As the discussion drifted to Jacob and David’s Friesians, Miranda caught the way Deven was watching Nico, and when Dev glanced up at her, his lips quirked in a half-smile, and she knew at least one of them might receive an unexpected Christmas gift. She smiled back.

  So now there would be a baby and a dog in their lives. Things were getting almost disturbingly domestic in the Haven these days.

  She half expected some emergency to crash their evening, but amazingly, things remained quiet out in the world, and eventually the party started to break up; Jacob and David headed to the stable for their traditional late-night ride.

  “Have you learned anything from those poor humans at your concert?” Cora asked a while later.

  Miranda hadn’t been expecting the question, but said, “A little. All but two of them have died, and Novotny thinks there might be hope for those last two. I’m going to see them on Monday night after all this Solstice stuff is done. I’m hoping with our combined gifts we can figure out a way to break the spell over them. I was able to disrupt the Prophet’s control long enough to knock them out, but it wasn’t broken.”

  Cora looked thoughtful. “It is too bad we cannot get our hands on a copy of Morningstar’s Codex. If we could see the spells themselves we could learn a lot about how to counter them.”

  “And how to save the person inside such a possession, if there’s anything left to save,” Nico said. They all knew who he meant.

  “It really is a shame all the Morningstar soldiers are brainwashed—and that they’re all human.” Deven shook his head in frustration. “I would love dearly to get an operative in there. At the very least I hope unlocking the rest of our Codex will give us some more ammunition, perhaps a scrying spell or something to get a look at their plans. This whole thing where we have zero intel on what they’re up to is driving me mad.”

  “You and all of us,” Miranda replied. “The Prophet must be wetting himself with glee knowing how powerless we are right now. We can defend ourselves, and we can counterattack, but we can’t get a step ahead if we have no idea what the steps are.”

  “Let him laugh,” Nico said quietly, a low current of anger in his words like rolling thunder. “He will have little to laugh about when I get him out of my brother and have him at my mercy.”

  There was a moment of silence, no one entirely sure what to say that wouldn’t make Nico feel worse, but again Cora took the lead. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to play for us, Miranda?”

  “Play music?” The Queen blinked at the Queen—Cora had a particular skill, it seemed, in catching her off guard. “Oh, I don’t know, I haven’t…”

  “Haven’t touched an instrument since that night,” Deven finished for her, frowning. “All the more reason you should.”

  “I’d have to go—”

  As she should have expected, she didn’t have the sentence out before Deven disappeared, and by the time she finished rolling her eyes, he had reappeared with her guitar—her “real” one, not one of the performance instruments like the one that had been shot. This was her oldest, the model that had been custom designed for her, and all her others were based on it. It was the one David had given her to replace the one burned in her apartment, and in its way it was like her own inanimate sort of Nighthound.

  Miranda sighed, sat up, and took the guitar, giving Deven a dirty look he pointedly ignored.

  Well, if they wanted her to play, she was going to do it comfortable; she pushed off her boots and crossed her legs on the couch, guitar in her lap. Taking a cue from her, Cora smiled and took off her own shoes, shifting off onto the floor onto a cushion, Vràna
peeling herself off of Nico to join her mistress on the floor. Meanwhile Nico nestled into the corner of the sofa with Deven leaning on him as Miranda started picking out a few chords, gradually drawing them into a melody with no real destination in mind.

  She wanted to keep the quiet, relaxed mood of the evening without veering too far into up-tempo or down into depressing, so she stuck with a couple of her less angst-ridden singles—that being of course a relative concept—and some of her old favorites, like Mazzy Star and Katie Melua, some early Tori.

  She hated to admit it, but putting her fingers on the strings was an immense relief; tension in her heart she had ignored for days began to dissipate, and rather than losing herself to sorrowful thoughts about her career, she just enjoyed the music and the company.

  She had a sneaking suspicion that was Cora’s intent from the beginning. Miranda shook her head a little, smiling behind her hair. Queens.

  “I search your profile for a translation

  I study the conversation like a map

  ‘cause I know there is strength

  In the differences between us

  And I know there is comfort

  Where we overlap…”

  Eventually, Miranda became aware of something moving out in the hallway besides the usual breathing and shifting of the door guards. A youthful but timid presence drew closer, and another behind it. The person’s energy was shimmery and light, with a moonlit edge around it.

  Elves, she realized. A couple of the younger refugees must have overheard her singing as they passed by, and decided to investigate.

  Miranda reached out into the hallway and mentally tapped the guards, impressing upon them to leave their post for a little while and do a circuit of the other end of the wing, getting them out of the way and leaving the hallway empty of scary vampire types. If anything threatening got this close the Signets in the room would certainly know it.