by Sara DeHaven
They stayed entwined, breathing hard, long enough that his arms started to quiver with the effort of holding his weight off of her. With a little shake of his head, he pulled himself out of her and collapsed onto his back next to her. Bree rolled onto her side, her head on his shoulder, arm across his waist. Little aftershocks made her draw in her breath as she moved against him, throwing a leg over his thigh. Without conscious volition, her Reader sense drew back inside her. They lay quietly, his arm caressing her shoulder, hers his side and hip. “Well,” he said after a time, “we didn’t die.”
Bree started giggling, and once she got started, she couldn’t stop. Daniel started laughing as well, and he laughed until tears came. Bree felt a wild relief. It was true, they hadn’t died. And that internal structure of his hadn’t prevented his having feelings for her after all.
Her giggles began to run out, and it took her a few beats in her relieved and satiated state to register the tinge of hysteria creeping into Daniel’s laughter. She pulled away a little so she could look up at his face. His eyes were closed, and his breath was being pressed out of him now in small, explosive jerks. His body started to shudder, and he brought a clenched fist up to his chest and started hitting himself with it. Bree grabbed at his hand and said, urgently, “My God, Daniel, stop! What are you doing?”
His eyes flew open, and his pupils were dilated, making his eyes look entirely black. “The divided thing, it’s happening,” he gasped. “The structure, I blew it out. You've got to leave, now!”
Bree felt like she’d been shocked with a cattle prod. Her whole body flooded with electric panic. “No, Daniel, let me help!” She prepared herself to go into him in a read, prepared to call on Gelsenim for help.
“No!” he roared. He reared up and shoved her off the bed, then pointed at her, shouting, "I bind you to my will! You will leave, now. You will not try to read me or perform a healing on me!”
She felt the force of his binding strike her, and against her will, she gathered up her things and ran down the stairs. She barely spared time to pull on her jeans and tug her crumpled sweater over her head. She abandoned her shirt and bra, shoved her feet into her boots and snatched up her coat.
She was at the front door when she heard Daniel’s voice call her name. She turned to see him halfway down the stairs, dressed only in his jeans. He was clutching the stair banister in a death grip, and his face was white. “You will sit in your car and activate your Demonsense. If you feel me call a demon, you'll drive away, then call Javier or any Keeper you can get hold of, and you will tell them I’m a burned Demon Master and I’ve lost it, that they’ll need the best the Ecclesias has to take me out. If I don’t call a demon within that hour, do not call a Keeper or the Ecclesias.”
No, a tiny voice, pressed almost to nothing beneath the binding, protested. Shaking with effort, she said it out loud. “No.”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed, and the binding wrapped her tighter, so tight it was hard to breathe. “You will stay for an hour, and may go at that time if nothing has happened. When I’m able, if I’m able, I’ll call you. You will not attempt to come back inside or contact me until I contact you. Go now, and do as I said.”
She found herself opening up his door, closing it behind her, and went to her car, where she called up her Demonsense. As she sat there, shivering in shock and grief, tears coursing down her face, she brought up her Reader sense as well, but at this distance, she couldn’t get anything on Daniel. You idiot! she berated herself. You irresponsible fool! Why did you have to admit you loved him? Why come over in the first place? Had she wanted this to happen? Had she wanted to push him? Well, she’d pushed him, all right, pushed him right over the edge. And all because she was too weak to bear her upset over the bombings alone, too weak to put a stop to things when it was clear he was starting to feel strong emotions. She should have known then that the restraint structure was weakening. She’d wanted too badly to see proof that he still wanted her, that he loved her as she loved him.
Her Demonsense remained quiescent, and her trembling and tears gradually abated, though she started to shiver with cold. She took the time zip up her and fasten her coat. As reason started to reassert itself, she admitted Daniel bore some part of the blame. He’d been as irresponsible as she. She suspected they were both reacting to some kind of primal urge to procreate in the face of possible looming war and death. Well, procreation was probably off the table given where she was in her cycle. And that was a relief, though a small part of her swelled with emotion at the thought of having Daniel's child.
As fifteen minutes went by, then a half hour with no demon sign, she began to hope that the worst hadn’t happened, that he hadn’t fully divided again and called a demon. One of the strange things about the binding was that she didn’t really have to contend against an impulse to go back inside. That would be against his instructions, and she mentally just couldn’t go there.
Less fortunate was the fact that her mind was free to imagine what all this meant. His fix wasn’t good, at least not good enough to withstand certain kinds of emotion. They weren’t going to be able to be together. Even more than before, she wanted the chance to try her idea of healing the divide. But what he’d said earlier had struck a nerve. She was untrained in Reader healing techniques. Given she’d shown Exorcist talent, and given that was more rare than being a Reader, her training had prepared her for doing exorcisms instead. She wasn’t even sure where to go to learn Reader healing techniques, or even whether those would be enough without significant Healer talent to back them up. Maybe Dion would know something about it or could hook her up with someone who did.
Finally, an hour passed, and in accordance with the binding, she didn’t try to get back in to see Daniel. She was exhausted from keeping her Demonsense at its maximum level for a whole hour, not to mention the emotional drain of waiting for disaster to occur. She drove home, where she collapsed on her bed, dry eyed, the creepy sensation of having been bound warring with her desperate worry for Daniel.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The binding didn’t wear off, and rest of the day had a disjointed quality to it. Time didn’t run in normal ways when a part of Bree’s mind was wrapped in thick layers of gauze. The bound part of her was quiescent, while the rest of her mind was spinning with what-if scenarios. She fielded worried calls from her parents and from her brother up in Bellingham, wanting to make sure she wasn’t involved in the downtown bombing. Leander called again, and she continued ignoring him. She felt guilty about it, but she just wasn’t up to taking on the further complications he brought with him.
She did go to work on her one client of the day, a guy who, strangely, didn’t even mention the bombings. Bree respected his apparent need to not go there, and she thought she did a workman-like job on the massage in spite of her anxious preoccupation. As usual, working had helped calm her some.
When she was finished and her client had left, she pulled her phone out of her purse, hoping for some message from Daniel, but there was none. She turned the ringer on and set herself to cleaning up her office.
She was just reaching for a lamp's light switch on her way out when her phone rang. She saw on the display that it was Daniel, and had an odd sensation of resistance, almost as if the binding was deciding if answering his call was permitted. With some effort, she pushed through and answered. "Daniel?"
His voice came from the other end of the line, quiet and firm, saying, “I release the binding.” Bree felt dizzy and grabbed for the edge of her massage table with one hand in an attempt to steady herself. A swishy, liquid sensation in her head accompanied the dizziness, like tiny competing waves sloshing around in a jostled fishbowl. Her breath bounced back at her from the phone, warm and moist as she panted a little into it. Daniel remained silent, waiting for her. She felt like swearing at him, but that would require a coherence of which she was not currently in possession.
“Bree?” Daniel’s voice came, sounding flat now.
“I
’m here,” she managed.
“I’m calling to let you know that I rebuilt the restraining structure.”
Bree was vastly relieved, but competing with that was an anger that was an ugly knot in her gut. She was furious at how scared she’d been for him, and so incredibly furious about being bound. And she was angry at herself that her yearning to see him, to lay hands on him, to know for certain that he was all right, overrode everything else.
Anger at herself won out. “I’m an idiot,” she said.
“What are you…”
“I’m an idiot for being so impulsive. I should have known how dangerous it was,” she interrupted him. “I did know, and I went ahead anyway.”
“Obviously you weren’t alone in that,” Daniel replied. It would have felt better if she could detect some emotion from him, but she couldn’t. He sounded shut down again, and she knew if she were smart, she wouldn’t mess with that.
She tried to be smart. “Well then, I guess we were both idiots. Fine. Now what?”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line before Daniel spoke again. “Now I apologize for binding you and admit I shouldn’t have promised that I would never do that to you. Apparently, when I think it’s warranted, I'll do it.”
“In this case, I guess I understand why you did,” Bree begrudgingly admitted. “I know you didn’t think there was time to convince me…”
“And that’s precisely the problem, isn’t it? I had a good reason, a good excuse. That’s the slippery slope. Right now, my motives may appear benign, but when it comes down to it, I chose to control you rather than reason with you. And that’s the kind of thing a Binder does. That’s why it’s a forbidden gift.”
She sat down in the soft purple chair wedged into the corner of the room and closed her eyes. She knew he had a point, yet wasn't it true that she would have refused to leave? And wasn't it right, what he'd said earlier, that she wasn't truly prepared at this point to try a fix on him? All of that was important, but she had more immediate worries. "I accept your apology, and maybe we can talk more about it sometime, but right now, I want to know what you're going to do about Varga."
"Find him and go after him." Finally, some emotion in his voice. He sounded weary.
Pretty much the reply she'd expected. She pressed her lips together and fought off frustrated tears. "Why are you so sure he'd agree to a duel anyway?"
"If I say I'm challenging him for control of his clan, if I register the challenge through the local clan chief, he'll have to do it. In the Keltoi, a clan chief has to take on any formal challenges to prove he or she is still the strongest. Varga has made a name for himself taking over L.A. and consolidating most of the other California clans under his control. It's vital to all his plans that he be perceived as an uncontested leader."
"Yes, but wouldn't you have to be Keltoi to make that kind of challenge?"
She heard the sound of him scooting a chair across a wood floor and pictured him sprawled in his kitchen chair, looking as tired and dispirited as he sounded. "Normally, that would be the case. But it has happened that high power Keepers go over to the Keltoi and make an up front bid for power. And I have something of a reputation with the Keltoi from my time as Keeper. At the clan leader level, it's common knowledge that I'm a serious threat. In other words, I'm a legitimate challenger."
"And if you win? Are you seriously going to take over the L.A. Keltoi?"
There was a long silence on the line. "Honestly, if I did, and managed to get someone to challenge me in turn, I might get out of the whole thing without reprisals. I'd have to stage it so it looked like I was defeated soundly and surrendered."
"So it's not always a duel to the death?" Bree finally began to feel a bit hopeful.
Another long pause. "It is usually. But there have been some cases where the leader surrendered and was allowed to live as long as they left town."
Her hope fizzled. "Varga wouldn't let you live if he wins and you agreed to leave town, would he? That would be considered a sign of weakness. If he really is making a big time play for power, the political consequences might be too big for him."
"Then I guess I'll just have to beat him."
She tried again to slow him down, make him think. "I still don't see why you think this is the only way to stop Varga. The Keepers suspect it's him behind all this, right?"
"Maybe it's not the only way, but it's the only way to stop him quickly, before more people get killed. And besides, it's ultimately a win-win scenario. If I beat him, this whole Keltoi plan loses steam. If I don't, well, with this divided thing looming over me, I'm a risk. Hell, my very existence has always been a risk. A Demon Master with my power level who loses it would hurt a lot of people. I always swore I'd die rather than see that happen."
As painful as that last was to hear, she couldn't pretend she hadn't had those same thoughts about herself since she learned she had some degree of Demon Master talent. "I just want more time," she got out through the choking sensation that was blocking her throat. "More time to try to study this divided thing, to get some training so maybe I can help you with it. Or maybe just more time for you to work on it yourself. Don't you think there's a risk of you going divided in the stress of battle?"
He had a quick answer for that one. "I didn't during the Alki riot, and I was not only exposed to a shit load of demons, I was exposed to seeing you in danger. I suspect I didn't lose it then because battle situations are familiar to me. I usually feel focused and in control in a way that's steadying for me. I got far more wound up in a quiet room just hearing about you being assaulted."
An inspiration hit her, and she straightened in her chair. "Yeah, but what if Franchesca is at the duel? I know how much she means to you, how much you want her to get out of the Keltoi. Isn't it those kinds of feelings that cause you trouble?"
"Franchesca nearly killed Hunter, putting that demon in him last year," he replied, voice gone icy. "I was deluding myself that she really wanted out of the Keltoi, that there was still a way to pull her out of demon burn. Anyone who would do that to a six year old child is too far gone to reach."
At last, something that sounded like sanity. "If she's at least as demon burned as before, she'd be a wild card in any scenario where you're involved. She seems, if anything, more affected by you than you are by her. If you show up by yourself, who's going to counter her if she loses it?"
"You just finished saying she's likely still affected by me. Doesn't that argue for her having a hard time killing me? I'd think if she snapped, she'd be more likely to go after Varga than me."
That dead tone was back in his voice. She wasn't getting through to him, but she wasn't ready to give up. "We don't know anything about her relationship with Varga. And even if she's not there, I have hard time believing that Varga is going to let beating you in some face saving fair fight trump his wanting your hiding spell. I'd bet you money he'll bring reinforcements so he can take you. You've got to have back up of some kind!"
"I have thought of that, Bree. If I can get a locate on Varga, and can get hold of the local clan chief quickly to register the challenge, I could catch Varga by surprise, without reinforcements."
"That's a pretty damn big if."
"Who do you expect me to use for backup, you?"
"I kicked Franchesca's ass last year when I had Gelsenim on board," she replied hotly.
"I don't think I can take another round of seeing your life at risk."
"But you said, at Alki it was okay because..."
"God damn it Bree, I just know, all right?" The sudden tension in his voice stopped Bree cold. Some part of her was clearly not insane and knew she should not be fucking with him in any way whatsoever right now. He went on, voice coming faster. "I don't have an explanation. All I have is an intuition, and that's telling me that my stability, my sanity is like some kind of crystal where, if you hit it at just the wrong angle, it shatters. And you, how I feel about you, it hits me at the wrong angle. If you want to help m
e on this, Bree, just stay away from me. Don't get involved with the Varga situation, don't try to follow me, don't try to be my back up."
"So how are you going to find Varga if that finder spell focused on Franchesca doesn't work?" she asked, looking for a way to distract him away from her intention to be his back up whether he liked it or not.
"I thought I might have you ask Leander Rayne. He's got a thing for you, right? He might get the information for you. I doubt he would for me."
Bree was shocked a little out of her upset. She'd never told him what Leander had said about knowing Varga when he was in the Keltoi.
"What makes you think he knows anything?" she said, stalling.
"You really are a terrible liar, Bree. He's Keltoi like I thought, isn't he? I can hear it in your voice that you know something about that. What did he tell you?"
She seriously considered lying to him, no matter how obvious it was to him, but it finally came home to her that one way or another, he was going to do this. What if Leander could help locate Marton? Wouldn't Daniel have the best chance, as he'd said, if he could basically spring the challenge on Marton?
"He said he was a street kid adopted by Varga into the L.A. Keltoi, and he got out when he was eighteen."
"Yeah, right, he just walked away."
"Well, I believe him," she said stubbornly, then amended, "I mostly believe him."
"Even though he's unreadable?"
"I guess I'm just stuck going with my instincts like almost everyone else on the planet."
"I've been thinking he's likely been put on me to try to suss out the hiding spell, that he's trying to get to me through you."
