Nightbound (34 page)

“What must I do with them?” He saw her lips move, and bent to put his ear next to them. But she did not speak again, nor did she take another breath. “Alys.
Alys.
”

“Beau.” Christian gripped his shoulder, and nodded at the other side of the cave. A shimmer of gold sparkled on the opposite ledge, growing brighter and more dense-looking until it formed itself into a solid figure.

Golden armor covered nearly all of Cristophe’s body, and when he spoke, his voice rang like a thousand bells. “I warned you of this, boy.”

“You bastard.” Beau got to his feet, and strode to the edge of the water. “You and your scheming. You’ve killed her.” He was shouting now. “God damn you. God damn you to hell.”

“My strength is almost gone with my body. It took the last of it to come here now. I failed heaven, and your brothers, and the last of my kin.” Cristophe closed his eyes, but his lids turned transparent. “Forgive me.”

Beau reached out with his talent, seizing what was left of Cristophe’s flesh and using it to drag the smith across the water. He held him suspended as he showed him the jewels. “Alys said these will explode, and their power will destroy everything around us for miles. Millions will die. Tell me how to stop it.”

“It is too late now,” Cristophe said as his head disappeared and reappeared. “Good-bye, my son.”

Beau heard Alys’s voice in his head.
Shield them.

With a roar he thrust the gems into the center of Cristophe’s body. Pain engulfed his arm as the shimmering light burned into his flesh. He gritted his teeth and held his fist in place until the smith’s body began to solidify around his wrist. Spreading his burning fingers, Beau released the gems, and yanked back his arm. Cristophe looked down at the crater in his abdomen, watching as his flesh grew solid and closed over the diamonds. He lifted his face, and the light in his eyes changed from gold to green.

“Into the mouth of the water, my son,” Cristophe whispered. “Hurry.”

Beau pushed the smith through the air to the back of the cave, and released him just above the source of the
spring. Cristophe’s form radiated thin beams of green light as he sank beneath the surface.

As the water began to boil, Beau lifted Alys’s body into his arms. “Run as fast as you can,” he told the other women. “Don’t look back. Don’t stop for anything.”

“We won’t make it in time.” Simone glanced at Christian, who nodded. “No, I think we will stay here,” she said kindly, “with you and our sister.”

As the light from the fissure grew brighter, the women flanked him and Alys, encircling them with their arms. Beau blinked back tears of sorrow and gratitude as he pressed a kiss to Simone’s brow, and the top of Christian’s head, and finally Alys’s sweet lips.

The light grew blinding, until it filled his eyes with brilliant emerald, set in shining gold. The air seemed to ripple, once, twice, and then without any sound at all lifted him from his feet, sending him soaring in a fountain of light into the night sky and scattering him among the stars.

“Excuse me. Miss? Excuse me.”

Jayr looked up from the body of the dead
tresora
to see a young mortal couple standing by the gate. Both were dressed in shorts and T-shirts, and the male was taking photos of her with a digital camera.

The female smiled. “Sorry to interrupt your performance, but, um, we were hoping to get some tickets for the next show?”

Jayr stood up and surveyed the area. Through the smoke she could see the figures of her warriors and Lucan’s moving across the field, checking bodies and collecting
weapons. Harlech appeared driving their largest cart and called out for the men to bring the dead.

“God, it looks so real,” the young man gushed, snapping away merrily. “What battle are you reenacting?
Hey.
”

Jayr used her strength and ability to pluck the digital camera from his hand and pull it through the fence before he could blink. “We don’t allow photographs in the park.”

The mortal stared at the gaping hole she had punched through the chain links. “Sure, okay.”

She erased the images he had taken of her and the Kyn from the memory card before she handed the camera back to him.

As she turned her back on them, she heard the woman ask, “What about tickets?”

Byrne appeared before Jayr, and yanked her off her feet to hold her tightly against him. Over her head he said, “This was a rehearsal, lass, not a performance.” He paused to kiss Jayr soundly on the lips. “We are also in the midst of renovating the Realm, so tickets are not currently on sale. We will be reopening in a few weeks with bigger and better shows, and hope to see you at one of them.” He swung Jayr around and began to stride off with her, calling back, “Have a nice day.”

She buried her face against his strong neck. “I can no longer be immortal. You just scared the life out of me.”

“You should have known better,” he chided, setting her down. “’Twas you who insisted I take all those bloody anger management classes on the computer.” He brushed the hair back from her face. “Lucan is coming.
Try not to puke when he takes all the credit for our victory.”

“I assisted with your ambush, helped you corral the traitors in the keep, and devoted much effort to keeping them busy until my men arrived.” Dressed in assassin’s black, Lucan walked out of a swirl of smoke. “Thus I
deserve
most of the credit.”

“You dinnae even get dirty,” Byrne pointed out.

“One of the few benefits of my talent.” Lucan held up a bare hand before he took a pair of leather gloves from his jacket and slipped them on. “My garrison will aid with the disposals. Shall we—”

A sudden and enormous flare of bright green from the west interrupted him, and made them all shield their eyes. Although there was no sound from the eruption of light, a moment later the ground trembled beneath their feet.

“What in God’s name was that?” Jayr gripped Byrne’s hand as the shaking died away.

“It’s near where Beau’s woman has her encampment.” Byrne watched the horizon as the glow spread and settled. “They must have finally found those wretched baubles.”

Lucan glanced at him. “Were they using explosives to search for them?”

“However they’ve done it, it doesnae look good.” The big Scotsman flagged one of the warriors passing by them, and gave him orders to assemble a team of trackers. “Have Farlae and Rainer take the lead.”

“I will have the lead in my Ferrari,” Lucan told him.

“That fancy auto of yours won’t take kindly to the
marshland, my lord,” Byrne said. “No reason for you to trouble yourself. Leave it to the lads.”

“No reason?” The former assassin’s voice grew icy. “Christian is still out there somewhere.”

Byrne shrugged. “Aye, but you needn’t trouble yourself. If she yet lives, they’ll find the lass.”

Before Jayr could intervene, Lucan reached out, grabbing a handful of Byrne’s tunic and using it to jerk the big man closer. “That
lass
is the closest thing to a daughter that I shall ever have. She gave up her mortal life to protect me, Samantha, and my entire
jardin
. So, no, you ignorant behemoth, I will not
leave it to the lads
.”

“As you say, my lord.” Byrne glanced down at his fist and, when Lucan released him, looked almost pleased. “We’ve a stable of fast horses. Do you still ride?”

Lucan straightened the line of his sleeve. “Do I still breathe?” He strode off.

“No,” Jayr said as Byrne turned to her. “I will not stay behind. Beau and Alys are still missing.”

He glanced at Lucan’s retreating figure before he said in a softer voice, “Then brace yourself, wife. Whatever caused that light and the ground to quake may not have left anything for us to bring back.”

Riding to the old mission took less than an hour, and when they were within a half mile of the site, Jayr began to see the damage wrought by the queerly silently explosion. The trunk of every pine they passed now tilted toward the east; some of the younger saplings lay uprooted where they had toppled. The sound of flapping wings drew her gaze up, where she saw dozens of birds flying away from the site toward the Realm.

Lucan reined in his mount, stopping in front of a
blackened length of metal sticking up from the soil. “This did not sprout here.” He leaned closer, and then exchanged a look with Byrne, who rode his mount in front of Jayr’s.

“Now that I think on it,” her lover said, “you should go back to the stronghold. No doubt Alexandra will need some help with the wounded.”

“No doubt.” Jayr dismounted and strode over to the half-buried blade. An odd-looking clot of dirt clung to the hilt, one that looked more like a hand with every step she took.

“Jayr.” Byrne put himself between her and the blade. “You need not look upon this. Let us see to the rest.”

She went around him. “This is Beaumaris’s blade.” She knelt down in front of it and studied the severed body part still clutching the hilt. “He must have been holding it when the blast occurred.”

Byrne helped her up. “Then he died fighting, which is what the lad would have wanted.”

“Someone did, but not Beau.” Jayr nodded at the burnt hand. “Do you see there, on the third finger?”

Lucan joined them and peered at the appendage. “A ring.” He sniffed the air. “From the stink of it, fashioned from copper.”

“No mortal could take Beau’s blade from him,” Byrne insisted.

“No.” Jayr gazed at the oak grove, where the setting sun silhouetted the dozens of trees that had been jerked, roots and all, from the earth. “Unless Beau gave it to him. Come.” She strode to her horse.

Jayr expected to see nothing but flattened, blackened earth as they drew near the mission, but aside from a
missing roof and some scorch marks on the exterior walls, the structure remained largely intact.

Jayr called out for Beau and Alys, but only silence answered her.

“They must have taken shelter in the lower chambers,” she told Byrne as they dismounted and secured the horses. “We will begin there.”

“My lady.” Lucan’s quiet voice sent a pang of dread through her. “Your man and his lady are here.”

Jayr’s steps dragged as she approached the ruin of vines and shattered stone blocking the entry to a cave. Lucan brushed back the rubble to reveal a pair of entwined bodies. Her throat went tight as she saw how Beau held Alys still cradled against him.

More stone shifted, and Lucan stepped back as a slim hand emerged from the debris. The fingers groped the air.

“A little help,” a muffled, disgruntled voice said, “would be great.”

Lucan reached into the rubble and snatched the girl from it, holding her at arm’s length before he jerked her close and embraced her.

“You are an idiot,” he muttered against the top of her head. “I am taking you home and locking you in my dungeon for the rest of eternity.”

Chris coughed out some dirt. “Hello. You don’t have a dungeon.”

Lucan began wiping the soil from her cheeks. “Then I shall build one. One riddled with rats and devices of torture and hundreds of video screens that play nothing but reruns of
The Brady Bunch
.”

“I’m glad to see you, too, Dad.” She rested her cheek against his shoulder.

The sound of vegetation moving and sticks snapping made Jayr scan the area, until a bedraggled figure emerged from the brush.

“I don’t know why anyone dreams of flying,” Simone said as she joined them, cradling a broken arm. “The landing isn’t very pleasant.” She looked at the bodies in the rubble. “The traitor murdered the doctor just before the explosion.” Her voice softened. “Even after she was gone, your man would not leave her.”

“No, I expect he would not.” Jayr bent down to remove the gravel away from Alys’s peaceful face before she straightened. “We will bury them together.”

“As it should be. The lass was his mortal wife,” Byrne explained to Lucan.

“Then it is fitting that they died together,” the suzerain said as he placed Chris back on her feet. “But I believe you are mistaken on one point.” When everyone looked at him, he added, “That female in your man’s arms is not human.” Lucan nodded at Alys. “Look at her face.”

Jayr gazed down and saw that the cuts and abrasions on Alys’s skin were slowly shrinking.

“God in heaven.” She pushed back Alys’s upper lip to reveal two gleaming
dents acérées
emerging from her palate. “She is Kyn.” She turned to Byrne. “But yesterday she was mortal.…How can this be?”

“The legends say if a mortal is worthy, the emeralds will give them eternal life.” Byrne removed a copper dagger from his belt. “’Tis no one more worthy on this earth, I think, than a courageous, warmhearted Scotswoman.” He used the blade to slash his wrist, and bent to hold it to Alys’s face. “Except perhaps a Scotsman.”

“It’s all that whiskey you lot drink,” Lucan told him. “It pickles your soul.”

A strong hand shot out of the debris to seize Byrne’s wrist.

“Easy, lad,” Byrne said, grinning with delight as Beau glared up at him. “Your lady has made the change. I’m wanting only to help her.”

“Mine.” With some difficulty Beau freed his other arm, bit into his wrist, and then pressed it to Alys’s lips.