However, I don’t stop. My focus, my fury, my determination to end this feeds on the suffering and loss at his hands—his attack tearing apart my life with Theo, our struggle to find our way back to each other, Corrin’s untimely death, every twisted way this has broken Dante, and my devastating loss of Oliver.
Flames burst forth across Valoin’s skin, setting clothing and hair on fire, licking at his tongue and throat, choking off his ability to speak, but I have plenty to say. “I am Caitriona Mary Hayden, niece of the late Sir Thomas Hayden Greyson, heiress to Hayden Holdings, Incorporated. I am a woman of power and influence without magick.” I smirk, knowing how much elves hate women out of men’s shadows. “I am the North Star of the Dracopraesi. Eternal dragons, older than time as humans know, bow before me, Valoin.” His eyes glimmer with a hint of acknowledgment, a shade of fear rising. “The fire of stars is far hotter than that of dragons. Did you honestly think you’d just walk out of here with me?”
The mere thought that he may have believed he could do just that flares my fury and ignites the flames engulfing him as if pouring fuel over his head. He drops to his knees, crying out in silent agony, throat closed by fiery vengeance. And I step closer, swiftly jabbing Theo’s knife into the side of Valoin’s neck, the flames not even warming my skin as they touch me.
I’ve never killed anyone before, but as the knife slides out, and he crumples to the floor, I feel only satisfaction. I just hope he’s actually dead. Really dead this time, not vampire dead.
A swirl of brimstone-scented, gray smoke gathers nearby, and a lean, towering man appears, wearing an easy grin that reaches the gentle blue-green eyes I can see once he pushes his sunglasses on top of his head, mussing the already tousled strawberry-blond locks. He tilts his head and brushes away a few stray curls. “Sorry I’m late, Caitriona. I was otherwise engaged. Urgent business matters.”
The crisp white shirt, expensive matching navy vest and trousers, and ‘power tie’ as my uncle called them—he looks the part of a millionaire playboy CEO. I’ve certainly seen more than a few of those.
“Uh huh. Whatever. Who are you? How did you get in here? And how do you know me? Or, at least, you think you do. I hate being called Caitriona.”
I’m already ignoring him for the most part, on my knees by Theo, fingers in his hair, hand on his heart. It’s still beating, not a strong rhythm, but he’s still with me.
“I will call you Cait, and you may call me Haiden,” he says in an elegant British accent, sounding painfully too much like Uncle Thomas and Oliver. “It is a pleasure to meet you finally. And let us just say I’m quite immune to dark magick.” He approaches behind me, dropping to one knee, assessing Theo for himself. “I’ll be taking Valoin’s body and cleaning up the rest of his mess, closing the portal behind me. You can rest assured he’s done for. You did a fine job, darling.”
Haiden runs a finger along the edge of the dagger’s bloody entry wound and slickens it thick with Theo’s blood. He looks at me, eyes boring into mine unnervingly, and brings his finger to his lips, licking it clean. “Dragon blood. Quite a unique and powerful essence, not one easily come by.” I have no idea how to respond to that. After a moment of silence, he goes on. “Theo is dying, Cait.”
The world seems to slip out from under me. Haiden takes my arm gently, helping me balance where I kneel and stay upright. I take a few deep breaths, trying to accept this. He’ll come back. Theo will come back. He will die. He will be different. But he will come back.
“I can stop it if you do not wish for him to die.”
I stare at him, words escaping my brain, working to catch up with what he’s said. “What? Yes. Of course. For Goddess sake, if you can save him, then do it. What are you waiting for?”
His smile is replaced with a half smirk. “You do not understand what you ask for, Cait. The High Realm trades in favors and debts. It’s all ‘who you know and who you owe’, darling. I do you this turn, and you owe me one. And considering whom you are, a little cheating death is well worth having you in my debt when you come into your eternity.”
They come back changed by death. Claaron told me what it did to him, and I saw what just coming close did to Agtos… Death will change him. I don’t want Theo changed. Flaws, frustrations, and all, I want him exactly the way he is. I love him, ego and fear alike. “Do it. Whatever you want, I’ll pay up when you ask.”
“Ah, love … that messy jumble of sacrifice and selfishness. Such a beautiful thing.”
It’s difficult to tell if he’s being serious or condescending, but I think the latter holds true with this guy. Still, he tears Theo’s shirt open, removes the dagger in one smooth movement, and runs his hand over my dragon’s chest, that same gray smoke and scent of brimstone accompanying the action, but when he moves his hand away, the near-fatal injury is healed.
“Give him a few minutes, and he’ll come around again. Fifteen or twenty minutes and your beloved dragon will be good as new, darling.” Haiden stands, dusting off his pants, setting his sunglasses back in place, running a hand through his messily styled reddish curls, and grins. “Well, I have business to attend to, but we will be seeing one another again soon, Cait.”
He reaches for my hand, and I politely give it, a little surprised how strong he is as he pulls me to stand, though he pulls me far closer to him than I expected. I don’t appreciate not being able to see his eyes past those sunglasses, but I have a feeling he does that on purpose. With a small bow, he lifts my hand to his lips, his movement brushing my fingers across the neatly trimmed hair on his chin. It seems to me his lips remain pressed to my skin far longer than necessary, but his hold on my hand is also stronger than necessary.
When he stands straight and looks at me again, he smirks. I glare. He grins widely, another smile that reaches his eyes, crinkling their corners, so I can even see it past his sunglasses. “Don’t be like that, Cait. You owe me, and you do so by your own volition.”
Without another word, he steps over to Valoin’s body, waving his hands over it, gray smoke and that scent lingering again. Haiden pulls what looks like a small, black, silk bag from his pant pocket, unfolds it, and captures the black smoke that Valoin has become, tightens the strings on the bag, and ties them in a knot. Then waving to me over his shoulder, Haiden ducks through the portal, (clearly created for much shorter elves and not someone of Haiden’s taller-than-Theo height) and it disappears as soon as he’s out of sight.
The bedroom door bursts open the second the portal is gone, Jai, Dante, and Ero pouring into the room so fast they nearly fall over each other in their rush. Jai is at my side, stroking my arm and inspecting me for any sign of injuries immediately, while Dante and Ero both go to Theo, helping him sit up as he regains consciousness, just like Haiden said he would.
“Where is Valoin?” Theo demands, though it isn’t too demanding in his current state.
“Haiden took him and closed the portal behind him. Valoin nearly killed you, then I killed Valoin. That Haiden guy showed up, saved you, and took Valoin.” Everyone stares at me as if I have three heads. “What?”
“Haiden.” Dante says the name with a stern expression I do not like at all. “As in Hades. He came.”
“Well, he didn’t say his name was Hades. He introduced himself as Haiden, and he was nice enough, though a little … odd. Very well dressed and suave, I suppose you’d say.”
Theo growls quietly, and Ero covers his face, looking at the floor. Jai holds my arm tighter, getting closer than I thought possible. Dante simply sighs.
“Caitriona, please tell me he did not ask you for anything in return when he saved Theo’s life.”
I shrug. “He did it as a favor. I just owe him a favor in return. What was I supposed to do? Just let Theo die?”
“Yes, Cait,” Theo growls. “I would have returned.”
“I’m afraid Theo is quite right, Caitriona. That would have been the better option.”
“Dante!” I gasp at his heartlessness. “He’s your
best friend. How can you say that?”
Ero stands, answering softly. “Cait, as I told you before, there are three of us who are the highest of the High Realm: Dana, Hades, and myself. Hades is the closest equal to Dana’s power among all the deities of the High Realm, more powerful than even I am.” He pauses, his gaze steady on mine. “At least, that remains true until you come into your own eternity. He knows your destiny, Cait. He knows how valuable your indebtedness will be. Debts of favors among the High Realm are like a sacred vow, the breaking of that vow such a disreputable act. Unless the terms are settled at the time of the debt agreement, the debtor must fulfill whatever request is asked of them when their favor is called in.”
Shaking his head, Dante stands, offering a hand to Theo, who stretches, pressing fingers against his chest, though there isn’t even a single mark where the dagger had been. “Caitriona, it’s time you understand what’s happening. The High Realm is colliding with your world already, and you must understand. The North Star is the Earthen Realm equivalent of my mother, and as Ero’s explanation goes, that makes Hades, or Haiden as he’s taken to preferring in modern times, nearly your equal as well. He’s a significant player in the realm’s political arena, and finding a way to gain you as an ally can shift the balance of power out of my mother’s hands. However, knowledge is his sole ruling principle. He is highly intelligent, gifted with a great brilliance, but he finds no use for morality or compassion.”
“Holy hopping hell-bunnies! I just sold my soul to the damn devil.”
Ero tries to smile reassuringly. “I wouldn’t go so far as to declare that. You’ve simply given the God of the Underworld the right to ask you to do essentially anything he wishes.”
I frown. “Yes. Because that sounds so much better.”
Chapter 22
*Cait*
Uncle Thomas used to swear a good cup of Earl Grey would fix anything, and I’m thankful Runa keeps some in her house, but it isn’t helping do anything other than make me too sentimental when I’m already a mess.
Jai enters the family room, cocking his head to the side, a small frown on his usually bright face, and I hate how many times I’ve seen that expression over the past few days.
“Cait sad.”
I tuck my feet under me and pat the spot next me on the couch, an invitation he’s quick to accept. “I’m a lot of things. Sad is somewhere on the list.”
“You not alone.” My little dragon rubs my arm, curling close to me, and reminding me of Evan’s spoiled tabby cat Sir Orange Julius. “No Oliver make me sad, too.”
Of course, Oliver’s death hit the Pendragons hardest, and whatever hurts Clifford hurts Jai. I lean over and rest my head on Jai’s shoulder. I thought it was just me being weak, letting Theo’s pain worsen mine that led to the choice I made, the desperate need to protect them all. Maybe I’m just as sensitive sometimes as my sweet little Mage dragon. “I made such a mistake, Jai.”
“Fix it.”
“Is it that simple? I’ve further complicated everything with Theo, dragged Dante into a relationship he won’t let himself out of, and put everyone into Goddess-knows what kind of new danger with Hades in the mix.”
Jai shakes his head. “Hades not bad. Hades not safe for you.”
“You heard what Dante and Ero said. This favor with Hades sounds bad. It sounds like it will lead to nothing but bad, bad, and more bad.”
“Hades not want war. Not kill. High Realm politics not Earthen Realm politics. Very different.”
Once again, I realize how in over my head I am with more catching up to do than I have time for, and too much at stake not to figure it out. There’s no telling where to start in guessing what Hades wants with me. “I always hated Political Science classes.” Jai is confused where Theo would have laughed. “You said to fix it. But can I?”
He nods, finally smiling the way I like to see. “Not be perfect. But we all broken.”
*Theo*
“In this respect, Dana and I believe you make a far better Lord Regent than Agtos ever did,” remarks Ero as I pinch the bridge of my nose, leaning back in Evan’s desk chair, ignoring the god staring out the office window, casual in his conversation as he ties up all matters of business on behalf of the Goddess. “He was always lax in the paperwork and such as times changed and the role of leadership changed with it.”
“Incident reports, death records, tracking spreadsheets … are you kidding me? Agtos never mentioned any of this.”
“Of course not.” I look to find his blue eyes trained on me, lopsided grin lighting his face. “Details he dislikes tend to slip his mind. … Don’t worry. Clifford has all the passwords and authentication codes. As the Virtual Fortress Network’s administrator, he’s the only other dragon with access to the Regent’s files. I assure you, he understands the confidentiality necessary for the role he plays in the duties associated with your new position, Theo.”
Scowling, I couldn’t care less if he’s a full deity or not. “Clifford is my brother. Telling me to what level I can trust him is unnecessary. Trusting Clifford is the least of my problems. It’s the … never mind.” I’ll save the rant against filing miles of electronic paperwork for someone who cares or can sympathize.
Oliver has long shared my distaste for excessive technology, though he’s more stubborn about it than I am.
Sir Oliver. One foot always stuck in an era long passed. Yet every second passing without him reminds me why he’s the first I’ve called for advice, more often than not.
“Is something wrong?”
Damned irritating God of Compassion.
“No.”
“Are you sure? I sense someth—”
Slamming my hands on the desk, I growl over the faint cracking of wood. “I said no. Now unless there are further matters to discuss at this time, please let me be, Ero.”
He studies me carefully then nods. “I see. If you should become unsure of anything later, decide you should not let some things be, I’ll be available, Theo.” Opening the door, there’s a shuffling of feet in the hall. “My apologies, dearest. I’m afraid Theo’s rather unfit for company at the moment, in a bit of a mood. Perhaps you should come back later.”
But I catch her scent in the air, and know later is unacceptable.
“There is no need to make her wait. Send her in if she wishes to see me.”
They exchange no words as he slips away, and she enters, closing the door. Wishing her closer, I take a deep breath, capturing everything so very Cait in this flash of our existence—the sweetness of lavender, clarity of winter creeping in, and the acrid scent of brimstone.
I refrain from frowning, the last an unwelcoming reminder of Hades’s visit.
She half smiles as if unsure how to do this, where to start, and I’m unsure I know any better. Too many words and actions in these days following a loss we could not comprehend now leave us lingering in suffocating air.
“No faded out t-shirt? I would have laid at least a couple million on the table in a bet saying you’d have given up the button downs by now to be in another old rock band shirt.” Her eyes roam over me, difficult to read, though I still want them to be full of need, and I step from behind the desk, two steps closer to my Cait. “I know you’ve hated all the dressing up, suits, and formalities from the moment we met,” she says, almost questioning, much softer than before.
“But this is not the stuffy black suit of the King’s Guard, Cait. The white shirt serves as a reminder I should not mourn Oliver’s death. We are to celebrate his rebirth, his coming return. It is the color of a fresh canvas, a new beginning, not an end.”
Her gaze drops lower. “I’m sure Oliver would have appreciated those lovely dark-wash jeans.” A smirk spreads across her face.
“We are still each unique and return as such. This is me … being me. He would appreciate that I’m wearing a button down shirt rather than a white t-shirt for him.” The smile widens on her face, but she does not look up. Following her eyes, I wiggle my toe
s and laugh quietly. “Yes. I ditched my shoes. I …” I sigh and look up to find Cait’s waiting for a truthful answer, eyes meeting mine. “I feel more grounded barefoot. I think better this way, and much weighs on my mind, Cait.”
“Mine too.”
I swallow and want to run, pull her into my arms, crush my lips to hers, declare all we said in the aftermath meant everything and cannot change despite what she’s done. Yet I stand my ground.
“In the deepest pain, in the heat of the moment, those are not times to make eternal decisions, Cait. We see where that has taken us, and it is not a road to travel yet again.” I want to clamp a hand over my own mouth, stop myself from saying the things I do, quit unraveling all I’ve done as I watch the pain in her eyes. “Do not misunderstand what I stand here saying before you now, Cait.”
Swallowing again, I lick my drying lips and take a deep breath. “Do not ask me how, but I know I am the one, and I will wait for you. I will wait as long as it takes for you to be ready, to know with a clear mind the words you say to me are of your own free will with no outside influence. … I say I love you because I have no other words for what I feel, Cait. Nothing else expresses what bursts forth from my heart when I look at you or hold you in my arms, but it pains me too greatly when you fall into my arms torn by that decision, knowing I do not hold every piece of you. … I will wait for you, Cait. I will wait until I have all of you, because you are too strong a woman for me to accept in broken pieces. I know you are more than that.”
Swiping a tear away with the back of her hand, she laughs, a small hollow sound. “Claaron is right. You really are a stupid dragon if you don’t understand we’re all broken in some way, Theo. But I’m not torn anymore, and I’m willing to give you every broken piece of me and trust you won’t shatter them. I’m willing to accept the broken pieces of you, and hold them carefully, love you for who and what you are.” Sighing, she offers a half-hearted smile. “Isn’t that enough, or do you expect a perfect fairytale ending, Theo?”
Blood of Stars and Gods Page 25
