A Mermaid's Ransom (37 page)

Go to him. I surrendered to you, but you must obey me. I will not have you in the middle of whatever is about to happen.

I won't leave you.

You must. Do this one last thing for me, and know that you have done far more than I ever deserved.

"Alexis." Jonah's voice was sharp now, sharp enough to cut through her emotions. She choked on a sob and looked back at him. He extended a hand, his voice gentling. "Come here, Seabird."

Trust your father.
Unbidden, her mother's words came to her. But how could she trust him to do what she wanted him to do, when she knew it would be against everything he knew was right? Even what she knew was right. But the right thing wasn't always the
right
thing.

Go to him, Alexis
. This time, it was Dante's voice in her head.
I will allow your witch to kill me. I sense what she has done in her spell. Though she will not override their death sentence, she doesn't intend to give me back to them. She will make it quick, and I will not be bound or made a slave. They are right, Alexis. No matter why I did it, I took from them. And you have shown me . . . made me understand something of what it would be to lose someone like that. Give me the gift I cannot give them. Let me know the one I came closest to loving is safe.

She wouldn't do this, wouldn't just step aside and let them or Mina kill him. It was wrong, but she didn't know how to make them understand that, any more than she'd already tried.

"No," she repeated, and levitated off the ground. Though it was agonizing, she forced her damaged wing to help her move. Her fingers slipped off of Dante reluctantly, but she moved and hovered at the edge of the circle, placing herself between him and Seneth. "I will not let you harm him."

At his implacable look, she reached out through the circle's barrier, closed her hand on his crossed forearms in desperation. "There is a reason there are gods wiser than us, who understand what we don't. He's in our world now, learning to be different."

When his expression didn't change, she looked toward the Fen. "You may not be in a place where you can forgive him enough to let him go. But justice is as deep as a river, and as unfathomable. Let his justice be meted out during his life."

"Alexis." Jonah's voice was low. "I am only going to say it once more.
Come here and stand beside me
."

If he had to do so, he would snatch her back next to him before anyone here was even aware movement had occurred. A lump grew in her throat.
No . . .

Alexis.
Dante's soft voice in her head broke her heart, as he repeated his words.
Obey him. I will accept this punishment.

They were all united. She'd lost.
The witch will make it quick . . .
That was the best outcome now. She turned and faced Dante. He'd risen to his feet, but the eyes on her face were no longer enraged. They held tenderness, something she'd taught him. Their touch was a caress. Her heart clogged her throat. Protection or no, her soul would be incinerated with him.

She wanted to go to him one last time, but he gave a faint shake of his head, jerked his head toward her father. Stifling a sob she thought might choke her, she turned and moved out of the circle, relying on the one wing and the base of her tail to move her along at a crippled shuffle that reflected how she felt inside. Scraped raw, burned to ash, aching from a beating that would never heal. Numb, she kept her head down, wondering if she could just close her eyes and imagine this wasn't happening. Her father's hand touched her arm, guided her until she stood at his side. David, Mina and Marcellus stood shoulder to shoulder with them, Marcellus's arm going around her waist to take her weight.

"Now," Jonah said mildly, adjusting to face Seneth. "It appears she does not stand alone."

AT first she wasn't sure she'd heard him right. Apparently, Seneth felt the same way. He blinked. "You would reject what is clearly the course of justice here?"

Jonah lifted a shoulder. "There are times justice must take a different path. What guides us is balance. As she said, until the past several days, he's never known anything else but evil and death. Now, thanks to my daughter, he has. He is not pure evil, with no interest in being more than that. I think you and I both sense that." Jonah held the gaze of the Bentigo commander. "I believe that he could be and do something different with his life, if he had the chance. We can't get back the harm he's done, but if he's willing to change who he is, help and save others, then by killing him, we lose his attempt to balance the scales. One life cannot pay back sixty-two lives, not unless he has the chance to save the lives of three times sixty-two souls. And my daughter's gift is not a light matter to be dismissed, either. I do not exonerate him from his crimes. He will pay for them. But let him pay a different way."

As Seneth shifted, Jonah did as well. In a blink Alexis felt the energy alter between the two groups. Marcellus and David became far more alert, and Jonah's hand was now resting with deceptive casual-ness on his sword hilt. "I advise you to give us this opportunity," her father continued in the same reasonable tone. "You know we are honorable. I do not believe the lives lost to the Fen should go unanswered. Trust us to make sure that amends are made. But give us his life."

Seneth looked toward the Fen chief. The tribal leader seemed to have a dialogue of body language with the others, a rapid communication Alexis couldn't follow, since her own tensions had drawn up in a knot, blocking all others. At length, the leader surprised her by walking forward and looking directly at her. "Give us her life instead."

The slide of steel from three scabbards was swift, but not as swift as the response within the circle. Naked and bloody, Dante hit the circle's edge closest to the Fen so hard the binding flashed in reverberation. Seneth's angels moved to block him, though the circle held. Barely. Lex noted a strain to Mina's expression that suggested his impact had taken its toll on even the witch's strength. But Dante's gaze never left the Fen chief, even as the electrical current of the circle's edge sparked in front of him.

"You touch her, you scratch her, you make one move toward her, and nothing will hold me away from you. You will join your wives, sisters and mothers."

The escalation to combat was something she'd never experienced, but in that heartbeat, she felt Seneth's protectors preparing for full engagement, as well as her father. The only ones who weren't were the Fen.

The Fen leader held Dante's gaze. After a weighted pause, he nodded, as if he'd received an answer. He raised his hands, apparently a gesture indicating his next words would be of import. The Fen behind him stilled, as did the Bentigo, the only movement the rustle of the leathery wings as the wind strengthened. The myriad emotions sweeping Alexis came from all directions. Violence, sadness, fear, anger, hatred. The hushed moment was so significant, she could almost feel the universe holding its breath, waiting for the decision.

When the Fen leader spoke, his face might have been carved from stone. His voice was wooden. "When evil becomes something good, the weapon has two edges." He lifted his spear, gestured to the bladed end. "One day, you will know what you took from us. Not in your mind. In your soul, your heart. When that day comes, you will prefer to die a thousand deaths than face what you are."

His gaze turned from Dante, toward Alexis. "Because all worlds are just, it is when you love her the most that Fate will take her from you, as payment for what you have done to us. And that loss will have the power of sixty-two broken hearts, to shatter your soul three times sixty-two times."

The words died away on the knoll, echoing among the silent audience. The chief nodded to Jonah. "Take him from our world and never let him return. We will mourn our dead."

Thirty-one

WHEN Mina brought them back to their world, she transported them to Machanon. Though Lex was worried about Dante's injuries, she noted his wounds were healing already, most of what the Bentigo had inflicted upon him tender red lines only, not open wounds. Even so, she noted he held himself stiffly, and suspected he needed blood.

It made her wonder about the wounds that couldn't be seen, the ones that were usually more severe than anything that could be done to the flesh. Was it possible to heal such wounds, when the salt of slain innocents had been rubbed into them sixty-two times?

She was sure that thought was uppermost in more minds than hers. The mood was somber. Though she'd succeeded in bringing Dante back, this couldn't feel like a victory to any of them. The angels spent their entire existence protecting the innocent, not those who harmed them. Yet they had stood with her, been willing to fight the Bentigo, who were creatures of the Light as well.

The angels are rarely wrong . . .

When they arrived on the outer bailey of the Citadel and oriented themselves to their return, she saw Dante's gaze alight on the Garden of Eden. It was a distant roll of green, the silver blue of the river winding through it, the rainbow a ribbon stretched over it that never faded. She'd wanted to take him there. Had her own yearning toward it tugged his subconscious in that direction now, or was he just focusing on something lovely and clean, trying to manage what had happened?

He took a seat on the parapet, his back to them all, and a stillness settled over his shoulders. Visibly, it was as if he'd turned to stone, a permanent gargoyle seeking the horizon for answers, but Lex could feel the powder keg of his emotions. She wanted to go to him, but instead, Raphael's hand fell upon her, and it was backed up by Jonah shifting in between them.

"Let him heal you first," Jonah said quietly, brushing a knuckle against her cheek to temper his words. "You're about to fall down, Seabird."

She just wanted to touch Dante, see his eyes for one second, but then he spoke in her head.
Go with them, Lex. I will wait here. He's right.

As she hesitated, torn, Raphael touched her arm. "We can go inside the turret right here. You'll be less than twenty feet from him."

She wondered, because looking at that wide back, she suspected Dante was much further away, perhaps as far away as the Dark One world.

RAPHAEL healed the break and strengthened her with an infusion of light energy that cleaned out the damaging effects of the smoke and fire. However, as he pressed his palms on her chest and back, his attention focused on whatever he sensed going on inside of her, she felt his concern, the dissipation of his usual cheerful aura.

Lex glanced up at him. "It's permanent, isn't it?"

Raphael pressed his lips together. "It's difficult to have a patient that can read her healer's emotions."

"I've been tired since I came back." Lex raised a shoulder. "The Dark One atmosphere would have destroyed any of you. Dante's protection helped me survive, but it didn't make me entirely immune to it, did it?"

"No." He held her gaze. "The damage is irreversible. I wasn't certain when you returned from the Dark One world. I needed time to see the rate of recuperation of your body's systems. There was some marginal improvement, but it's not enough. You'll be more susceptible to injury. That's why your wing broke again so easily. Your lung capacity has been reduced by a third. And your muscle weakness . . . if you rest, convalesce properly, receive regular treatments from me, as well as blood from your vampire, it won't degrade rapidly, but it will continue. Your life span . . ." He stopped.

Closing her hand on his wrist, Alexis managed a weary smile. "Might as well just say it."

"Your life span has likely been cut in half." He grimaced. "However, I cannot say how dour a prediction that is. Unlike your mother, who we know will live until three hundred unless she's injured, or your father, who would have to be struck out of the sky, we don't know how long you'll live, because your blood falls somewhere in between them. I just know it will be less than any of us want."

Alexis swallowed. "Well, isn't that the way it always is? I can still have children, right?"

"Childbearing is an enormous strain that may exacerbate your symptoms. It's--"

"Raphael." Her grip tightened. "Can I still have them?" Her gaze flicked toward the outer bailey, where her father was standing, speaking to several of his captains. Raphael followed her look. He sighed.

"Yes. You can still have them."

"Okay." Lex took a deep breath, wrapping her mind around it. A glance toward the wall showed Dante still in statue-mode, thank Goddess, because that meant he likely wasn't listening in. "You're a Full Submission angel, right?"

Raphael nodded.

"Can you block everyone out there, including my father and Dante, from hearing what we're doing or saying in here?"

Raphael studied her, then closed his eyes. As the door slowly swung shut, a cocoon of energy settled over them, as strong as the heat that had surrounded her in the circle, only this was pure comfort, the warmest, safest times of childhood wrapping around her.

Raphael, being the healer he was, knew what was needed. He opened his arms and she went into them, letting the sobs take her.

WHEN she emerged into the bailey, her wings were working properly again, so she stayed in that form, stretching them out to feel the afternoon sunshine. Someone had brought Dante new sunglasses and a belted half-tunic, and he'd moved to a portion of the parapet shaded by the turret. He didn't look toward her, and though she ached to feel his arms around her, hear his voice, she was glad to have this steadying moment to just look at him. Raphael skirted around her, pressing her shoulder briefly before he approached the vampire, likely to check on his physical status.

She felt her father at her shoulder and looked up at him, giving him a smile. "It turned out to be a beautiful day, didn't it?"

Jonah nodded, looked out at it with her. "You're all right?" he asked.

"Yes." She leaned against his side, putting her temple on his shoulder, letting his arm hold her up. White clouds floated past. "The beauty helps, doesn't it? Helps you remember that light and dark are a balance."

He put his fingers beneath her chin. "Yes. And when a male is blessed with a daughter and mate like I have, the light is strong enough to blind him."

She held on to this second, feeling the beauty of the day, his love, Dante's existence and the potential for all of it wrap around her, bolstering her. "I'd like to take him to Eden," she said at last. "May I, for just a little while? He can bathe there and recuperate. I'd intended to ask your permission to take him there earlier, but things got a little derailed." She attempted a smile and failed. "The whole abduction and fight for his life thing."

Jonah's dark eyes roved over her face. Unlike him or even Dante, she'd never be able to hide her feelings behind an impassive mask. She needed to touch Dante, feel that he was alive, back here with her. She needed to be with him without others.

Some of the happiest days of her childhood had been in Eden, playing with the animals and on the grass with her parents. There'd been long afternoons with the three of them napping there, her sandwiched between them, her father's wing stretched over them both, curved around Anna's back like a blanket. Their soft even breath, the rush of the water. It was Paradise. Deep in their ancestral subconscious, all humans remembered it, a dream they all hoped hadn't been one.

Though she could tell Jonah understood, he wasn't entirely placid. There were things they needed to resolve between them. He was probably going to take her to task for taking the lead the way she had, admonish her for risking herself as always . . .

Instead, he turned and placed his hands on her shoulders as she hovered before him, her wings holding her aloft. "You are an angel of these Heavens, just as I am. You need no one's permission to go to Eden. You did what every parent hopes and fears today, Seabird. You surpassed me."

Unbidden, tears returned. As he had when she was little and had scrapes, he plucked a feather, dabbed it like a handkerchief at the corners of her eyes. "Now, enough of that," he said gruffly. "I need to let your mother know you're all right."

"That
we're
all right." She sniffled and caught his wrist brace, the heel of her palm resting on his. "She worries more about you than she does me. She knows you're far more likely to get into trouble."

His arms and wings closed around her, flooding her with reassurance. Things had changed between them in the past several days, and they could never go back. They would both mourn that, but at the same time, she knew it was all right. Everything would be as it should be.

Pulling away at last, she held on to his hand an extra moment then turned, moving to the parapets where Dante stood facing Raphael. The healer sat upon the parapet with his amused expression back in place.

"He's not letting me touch him," he explained, "But he's moving well enough. His vampire constitution will heal him. He just needs a bath, desperately. After that, I'd recommend a muscle-deep attitude massage."

"Thank you, Raphael." She wanted to smile, but now that she was close to Dante, she couldn't. She could barely breathe. As she turned to face her vampire, the restraint on her frayed emotions nearly crumbled. She'd almost lost him. More than that, she knew how his soul-deep rage at being imprisoned and helpless had nearly consumed what was left of his tattered soul. But it hadn't.

He was strangely blank to her right now, but she was certain her belief in that wasn't resting on hope alone. Not trusting herself to say or do anything else, or think about the possibility of rebuff, she glided forward. Sliding her arms around his waist, palms traveling up his back, she hooked his shoulders. She could fly weights greater than her own with her wings for a short distance, but her arm strength needed help.

I'm taking you somewhere to clean up. Can you put your arms around me?

She closed her eyes as his arms slid over her shoulders, hands under her wings, mostly bare legs and feet capturing her tail to steady their passage as she went aloft. Even though he was covered with blood and filth, there was the flutter of dark hair against her lips, the muscles in his body shifting against hers. It was him, and he was alive.

The trip to Eden was a short one, and they didn't speak, though she sensed him gazing around, taking in the magnificent silver spires of the Citadel they'd just left, the sight of other angels in the sky going about their daily business.

Unlike earthly rainbows, Eden's had a glittering substance to it that coated her skin as she passed through it. She remembered times she'd played in the rainbow, positioning herself so those five colors striped one of her wings. She'd giggled, asking Jonah to make it permanent. Those colors passed over Dante's face, highlighting the harsh planes, the set of his mouth.

She landed them near the river. If they'd come a day or so ago, she might have dropped him in for fun. Right now, her emotions had built to the point she could barely speak. It was hard enough to let him go, move back and transform to her human form so her bare toes could grip the soft grass. She discarded the bra, leaving her skin free to feel the soft touch of Eden's breeze and gentle sun.

All she wanted to do was run to him, embrace him, but she couldn't tell by sorting his emotions what he wanted. He moved away from her after they landed, walked to the water's edge to stand under the canopy of a shade tree and stared all around him. She couldn't blame him. She'd grown up an angel, used to seeing marvelous sights, but there was still something about Eden. It contained peace, a quietness of the soul that was contagious while that soul rested within its embrace.

Eden's many magics included this blissful isolation. There might be others here now, but they would not be seen unless the powers that drifted through here knew a soul needed someone else's presence. Now Dante watched a pair of deer move to the water's edge and drink, gazing at him curiously before drifting on. They passed so close he could touch the deer's flank. He lifted a hand as if he intended to do just that, but then his gaze lighted on the blood staining him, and he closed it into a fist.