by Sara DeHaven
Bree immediately didn’t like the idea, since it might lead to Daniel having contact with Franchesca, but she grudgingly admitted to herself that it might be a good one. “I remember when you did that finding spell on Hunter last year. You actually had some of his hair, didn’t you, from when you made him that locator amulet? Do you still having something like that of Franchesca’s?”
“Not exactly,” Daniel admitted. “But I have a couple of things she gave me a long time ago. And the other thing I have is shared genetics with Varga. We may be only distantly related, but blood is one of the best substances to use in finding spells. I’m picturing one focused on Franchesca that also uses some of my blood, which might incline the spell to be drawn to her more if she’s actually with Varga. Like the one I did on Hunter, it will take a couple of days to put together, and there’s probably only a fifty-fifty chance it won't work.”
“Yes, I remember your whole lecture on why finding spells are so hard to do. But you did succeed last time, when Javier was sure you wouldn’t.”
“At worst, I’ve lost a couple day’s time. At best, I’m able to provide intelligence that could actually make a difference.”
“What would the Keepers do with that information?”
There was such a long pause that Bree couldn’t resist a subtle pass at reading his tells. He was looking down and to the left, there was tension in his neck, and a tightening of his hands on one another where they rested in this lap. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to answer, he was reluctant to answer. He was preparing for her to be angry. Well, she would just have to try hard not to be.
“I don’t know how clear this is to most powered, but Keepers typically don’t kill Keltoi except in self defense," Daniel replied. "Maybe that’s a no brainer, because normal cops don’t do it either. But with many Keltoi, incarceration isn’t an option. Either they’re Casters or they have clan mates who are Casters and can get them out. Or they're Demon Masters, and cause all hell to break loose in prisons by causing possessions. And since we can’t kill them out of hand, under the principle that it would make us no better than they are, the best we can do is interfere with their plans. It’s essentially the Cold War model." He shifted his posture so that he had one foot on the floor, his ankle across his knee. "Now, the Ecclesias does sometimes hand down a sentence of execution on powered if they have proven to be a chronic and lethal danger. In those cases, someone on the Ecclesias performs the sentence.”
“So are you saying Marton Varga could be brought to the Ecclesias if he was caught and might be executed?”
“That's one way it could go down, but there's a chance they won't go after him, especially if there's not really solid proof he's behind all this. Look, the Ecclesias can’t just hand down a death sentence without proof. They have to make some effort at justice. There’s a trial of sorts, though it’s not usually as lengthy or complicated as trials in the normal community are. But there still has to be substantial evidence of not just one murder, or conspiracy to murder, but a long series of such crimes that cause social destabilization.”
“If Varga is behind these riots and bombings, he'd certainly meet that criteria," Bree replied.
“That's true. But the trouble is, the execution of a Keltoi clan chief can have significant repercussions. They don’t have the same taboos against killing, with power or without. Killing a high profile Keltoi has been known to start a war in and of itself. If Varga were to be caught, tried and killed, which is a big ‘if’ given his reported level of power, the L.A. clan and the other California clans he's co-opted would very likely go to war against the Ecclesias and the Keepers. So the Ecclesias is going to have an unusually high bar of proof in this case.”
“So you want to locate Varga to get proof?"
There was a long pause, and she realized he was about to tell her the thing he thought she was going to object to.
“That's part of it. But the other possibility is that someone not a part of the Keepers or the Ecclesias could go after Varga. If it could be done in such a way that it was obvious that the action wasn’t through official channels, it might not trigger a war.”
“Aw, hell no. You are not going to do a hit on Marton Varga!” Bree exclaimed. Daniel gave her a lock jawed look, but that didn't slow her down. “What were we just saying about how impossible it would be to deliberately kill people?”
“It would be difficult to kill innocent people, yes. That’s why we need to be sure he’s not innocent.”
“Have you ever killed someone when it wasn’t self defense? Are you even capable of that?”
“No, I’ve never killed when it wasn’t self-defense or in defense of another person,” he admitted. “But seriously, Bree, if I challenge Varga directly, and I kill him in battle, you can be sure it will be self defense. He’ll hardly lay down for me to kill him.”
Don’t get hysterical, do not get hysterical, Bree chanted inwardly. It was a tall order. Daniel was talking about sacrificing himself in an effort to stop the war. "What are the chances this guy would even agree to some kind of one on one duel? Why wouldn’t he just agree, then cheat, gang up on you? I’ve got a strong feeling the Keltoi still want you for the hiding spell. They’ve just been biding their time for some reason.”
“All the better to get the confrontation over with.”
“But even if you win, you lose because they’ll come after you. You’d have to do it in such a way that it was clear you were doing it solo, unofficially. That means his clan will know who to blame. How are you going to survive an entire Keltoi clan trying to kill you?”
“The Keltoi have gone after me before, a number of times. I’m still here, aren’t I?”
Bree considered throttling him for his arrogance. Then she considered, and discarded, any number of further arguments, but finally, a pattern fell into place for her. Her busy little Reader sense had been up and running for the whole argument. “You don’t mean to survive,” she accused.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed. “I’m not suicidal.”
All Bree’s admonishments to herself about her temper vanished like so much vapor. “Not suicidal, maybe, but not averse to dying. You’re going to make someone else kill you because you don’t have the guts to do it yourself!”
“And would it be such a fucking loss?” Daniel replied, finally showing some real anger of his own.
“You said the fix was working!”
His hands clenched and his eyes flashed. “It’s working for now. But you heard what Gelsenim said. What are the chances this fix of mine is going to last? Look, maybe you’ve forgotten what I almost did to you, but I haven’t. I’m not being big-headed when I say if I do completely lose it, if I become one of those completely burned Demon Masters, it’s going to be damned hard to stop me. You certainly won’t be able to, and I know you’ll try, you’ll dive right in with this insane idea of yours that you, a half trained Reader with absolutely no experience at psychic healing, will be able to fix me. What’ll happen is that you’ll get killed. And I’ll be loose in the world. I’ll be worse than Marton Varga, because as far as I can tell, this whole thing is not master minded by a guy who’s insane.”
Bree was so overcome with emotion that she threw herself off the couch, and stalked around the room, trying to calm herself enough to be able to think clearly. Daniel stayed put, not looking at her, just frowning as he dealt with whatever this argument was bringing up for him. As a line of thought came to her, she went to stand at the back of the couch, where she could look down at him. “You were able to heal Kevin. You did fine with being around Gelsenim. And as far as I can tell, you’re good and pissed off right now. And nothing’s going wrong. I bet if I read you now, I’d see that the restraint structure is still in place. You’re acting nothing like that night you attacked me. So there’s no reason to jump to the conclusion that the world is better off with you dead.”
“It’s just an idea, okay Bree? I haven’t said I’m going to run right out and try to as
sassinate anyone.”
Her hands landed on her hips. “You just said your death wouldn’t be a loss! That means you’ve been thinking about it. I thought you said you were feeling better, calmer!”
Daniel pushed his hands hard into his hair in obvious frustration, then he got to his feet as well, and paced around the couch until he was in front of her. “It’s been a bad fucking day, alright? The world is coming undone all around us. So maybe I’m being inconsistent. Have you considered that I might having mixed feelings about what’s been happening to me? What my chances are? Wouldn’t you be all over the map in my shoes?”
All the air went out of Bree's sails at once and her arms dropped bonelessly to her sides. As hard as it had been to watch him struggle all these months, how hard must it have been for him to see his mind unraveling? To feel like he was going to become what he’d spent years of his life fighting against? And that he might kill people he cared for in the process? Just look at how much it had set her back to accidentally kill Jim Scanlon, and he’d been involved in kidnapping Hunter.
It wasn’t that she’d never felt sympathy for his plight before, but it was hitting her hard in her gut in that moment. She wanted to bolt out of his house rather than have to feel what she was feeling.
Instead, she forced herself to look at him closely. As she’d told him, he didn’t have that edge to him he’d had the night he’d divided. But he seemed upset enough that she had to wonder if that whole emotion muting thing was up to the task of mediating what he was feeling right now. His jaw was pulsing where he clenched his teeth together, and his whole body was tense. She still felt shaky with emotion, but now she wasn’t angry so much as scared. She realized she was absolutely terrified to lose him.
“I know how awful this whole thing has been for you,” she told him. Her voice came out with a tremble, but she forged onwards. “I know it’s basically your worst nightmare coming true. It's everything your parents feared in you, what you’ve feared in yourself. And what I’ve feared in you as well. But my God, Daniel, look at what you’ve accomplished in the face of all that! You keep accomplishing the impossible. Nobody thought a hiding spell for talents was possible, but you came up with one. Gelsenim said there was no way to avoid your going divided, but in less than two weeks, you came up with a fix. Even if it’s not a perfect fix, with more time, you’ll come up with something better. I have faith in you.”
His eyes finally came up at that, and encouraged, she went on, not really knowing what she was going to say until it came out of her mouth, going on pure emotion, pure instinct. “I do, I always have. I’ve been afraid of you at times, I know. I’ve put you through hell with all my fears and doubts. But I’ve also trusted in your strength and your abilities, and I’ve never had cause to regret that. And more, I trust who you are, at heart. Your heart, my God, Daniel your heart.” She reached out and put a hand to his chest, in her need to somehow get through to him. “You have such a good heart. Please, please, don’t give up on it. I want, I can't go through, I need…” She stumbled to a stop, eyes filling with tears.
“What do you need?” Daniel whispered, his hand coming up to cover hers where it lay on his chest.
“Please don’t die,” she said brokenly, tears spilling out onto her cheeks. “You can’t die because, because I love you.”
Daniel’s face caught fire with passion at her words, and almost before she could register what was happening, he was kissing her, trapping her face between his hands, a hard, desperate kiss. And Bree surrendered to it, returned it with equal desperation. Their tongues clashed, and Daniel angled his head to be able to penetrate her mouth more deeply. Bree opened to him, hungrily, and reached for his shoulders, trying to pull him to her. She wanted him closer, wanted to feel the heat of his living body against her, and he obliged, reaching one arm over her shoulder, and another around her waist to pull her firmly to him. Her back arched as the intensity of his kiss pressed her backwards. Her tears had stopped as she threw herself into kissing him, into taking him in, the feeling of the ridged muscles of his back under her hands, the roughness of his beard stubble against her chin, her cheeks. Her whole body was swept by waves of emotion and desire. There was no room for thought as his warm hand worked up under the back of her shirt, and his mouth broke away from hers to kiss her throat.
Bree moaned at the flare of desire the kiss triggered. He moved his hands until they were holding her hips against his, freeing her arm so that she could push both hands into his hair. He raised his head and looked into her eyes, searchingly. An actual thought was able to make its way to her brain; he was wondering if he should stop, if they should stop. She answered by pulling him in for another kiss. At this moment, she didn’t care what would happen as a result. The world as she knew it was falling apart. This amazing, maddening, loving man might die in the resulting conflict. She might die. He might lose his mind and kill her. She didn’t care.
She reached her hands between them and began struggling with the buttons of his shirt. His hands gripped her hips harder, and she worked on his buttons until she was able to push his shirt off his shoulders. As he tugged at the sleeves to finish freeing himself, she kissed his neck where it met his shoulder. Daniel threw his head back, eyes closed in pleasure, allowing her exploration, hands temporarily trapped in his shirt cuffs. She took full advantage of the moment, tasting his neck, running her other hand across the strong curve of his chest muscles, down his side, then across his stomach.
Daniel nearly tore the rest of his shirt off himself at that. When he had his hands free he reached for the hem of her green sweater, pulling first that, then the t-shirt on under it over her head, mussing her hair. He pushed her hair off her face, dark eyes staring into her, reading her. Her Reader sense answered, and she felt the wild river of his desire, felt him feeling hers. Then he lowered his lips to hers again, but this time, he kissed her more slowly, tongue taking on a more languorous rhythm at odds with the burning need to consume her she felt inside of him. Then he moved his slow kisses across her shoulder, then over the mound of her breast above her bra. Bree gasped as he moved to the edge of the lacy material, and ran his tongue along it. She tried to move away from him, to reach down for the button on his jeans, but he moved her hand away, and pulled her against him with a hand at her back.
She started writhing with desperate impatience to get to him. She pushed against his shoulders, forcing his mouth away from her breasts. “Daniel, please!” she whimpered. He only kissed her mouth again, more forcefully this time, and began backing her across the room, towards the stairs. Bree reached behind her back as they went, unhooking her bra and letting it fall away so she could wrap her arms around his neck and press her breasts against his chest.
When they got to the stairs, he reached for her hand, took it, and led the way up. His bedroom was just down the hall from the top, and he stopped in the bedroom doorway to kiss her again. As his hands stroked her back, up her sides, Bree could feel they were trembling. Some tiny, sane voice told her that they were going to blow his whole restraining structure straight to hell with all this emotion, but then his mouth was at her breast again, and she laughed. He straightened to look at her. “What,” he asked, voice breathless.
“I don’t care,” she said out loud. “I don’t care what happens next. I don’t care if it kills us both.”
Daniel smiled a feral smile that sent a weird mix of fear and even greater desire through her core. “I don’t care either.” He kissed her again, moving her back until her legs were pressed against the edge of his bed. There was only one window in his bedroom, and the blinds were just slightly open, lending the space a dim but glowing light where the sun was trying to enter.
As Daniel ran his hands up her arms, goose bumps arose. He pulled back, and stepped away, gesturing to heat the air in the room. Instantly, the temperature went up fifteen degrees. Bree seized her moment to go after the button and zipper on his jeans, pushing them and his underwear off over his slim hips. He toed of
f his shoes and kicked his way the rest of the way out of his pants as he went to work on hers.
Then they were both naked, and he carried her down to the bed, one hand behind her neck, the other beneath her back. Then he pulled her to face him, side to side, and they pressed against each other, deep, devastating kisses interrupted by long, stunned looks as their Reader senses continued to entwine, feeding them information on each other’s feelings and sensations.
Daniel finally pushed Bree onto her back, and lay atop her. She opened her legs to him, but he didn’t enter her, although she felt the warmth of him pressing against her. They were both breathing rapidly. Daniel rested his weight on one elbow and ran a trembling hand along the side of her face, over her lips. His fingers gently pulled down her lower lip, and he kissed her again. She thought her heart might burst with the love she felt from him in that kiss. He kissed her like she was a holy sacrament, like she was his salvation, like he was going to his death. Then he looked into her eyes and whispered, fiercely, “I love you.” And then he entered her, eyes locked with hers, and began stroking slowly. “I love you,” he repeated, and tears came to her eyes even while she rocked against him, her body pleading for him to go faster. She kissed his cheek, his lips, his neck, anything she could reach. Daniel moaned then and closed his eyes, lost in the sensation, and his pace increased.
As her Reader sense attuned to him more deeply, Bree’s mind began forming images of the restraint structure. She didn’t want to see it, didn’t want to see it start to break apart if that was what was going to happen. She pulled back, focused on the blessed feeling of him inside of her, the pressure of his body against hers, the beauty of his strong face. They were both starting to sweat in the warmth of the room, and that generated by their movement against one another. As she went back to the layer where everything was emotion, she could no longer tell which were hers and which were his. All she could feel was a soul breaking amount of love and desire, and the intensity of it put her over the edge into release. As her body jerked against his, he groaned and surrendered to it as well.
