And then . . . flash . . .

Grieve and I were standing there, together, on a mountain, scanning the vegetation below. Only he was Shy, not Grieve. “Can you see them? Are they coming?”

I shaded my eyes and searched the area. “I think so, but we are far enough away. We routed them, my love. We tore them to pieces.”

He flinched. “You tore them to pieces. I still can’t fathom your fury, Cherish. But we are free from the chase for at least a little while. My mother will never rest until you are dead . . . and me. I am a traitor to my people, because of you. But I choose you—it has always been you. Only you.”

And my heart swelled, as tears began to run down my cheeks. I dropped to my knees. “And you, my love. Only, always you. Traitors . . . we both bear the label. My mother will torture me in front of our people, if she catches me. I have dishonored her. But I am not like my people . . . at least not without reason.”

The memory of the guards, dismembered, bloody to the bone, tasting sweet in my mouth, filled my body, and I murmured a gentle moan. Their flesh was tender between my teeth, their blood still staining my lips. I’d taught them a harsh lesson about interfering with me.

Grieve-who-was-Shy knelt down and gathered me into his arms and slowly kissed me, long and deep, and the taste of blood mingled with the taste of his gentle breath. I slid my legs around his waist and he entered me, rocking gently against the mossy ground, as we mated. The sky shone crimson and yellow overhead, the sun high in the sky, and the feel of him on me, deep inside me, swallowed my anger.

“I will be with you forever, Cherish. We are fated together. No one else will ever measure up. You are my soul mate and we will never let them take us alive.”

“We’ll escape. Somehow we’ll escape and go to a place where our union is not forbidden. Now, take me. Love me,” I whispered. “Make me forget who I am. Who my people are. Who my mother is.” And he did.

Grieve shuddered in my arms, then inhaled a deep breath and gently pressed his lips against mine. “We are soul mates,” he murmured. “Together forever.” And then he dipped his lips to my neck and lightly nipped the skin, quietly lapping the blood that began to flow.

The pain was exquisite, and I flowed into his pleasure as my wolf let out a high pitched yip of joy. I wanted to lay him down, to straddle him in the snow, to feel him deep inside me, but this was not the place or the time. And Grieve seemed to sense it.

He voluntarily lifted his head, his eyes gleaming black, filled with stars. “You are mine, Cicely Waters. And your blood will sustain me. I can resist her, for a while longer. You are mine.”

“I am yours,” I whispered. “Keep her at bay, speak not to her, avoid Myst at all costs. And I will come for you—I promise, I will find a way.”

“Do not make promises you can’t keep, my sweet.” And then he turned, and like a ghost he was gone through the woods. And my wolf bayed in the waning light.

“We have to go.” Chatter was looking pissed out of his mind, but he said nothing. Peyton just glanced at me as we hurried through the snow, over the snowbank. She put in a call to Rhiannon, and after a couple of minutes, her car came rolling up the road and we scrambled in, exhausted and bone-weary.

“Did you make it to the Court of Dreams?” She sounded frantic.

“What happened? I can tell something happened. And yes, we did. I have the spell to help Kaylin.”

“Thank gods—I was afraid Myst might have caught you. You were gone two days.” She flashed me a worried smile. “Last night, a group of vampires and a group of Myst’s hunters got into a rumble downtown. It was bad, Cicely—very bad. Several of the townsfolk were nearby and there were deaths.”

“Holy crap. How many dead on each side?” I didn’t want to know, but it was like taking off a Band-Aid; better to just rip it off quickly.

“Three vamps, two Shadow Hunters, and five passersby. Including two police officers who didn’t know enough to stay out of it.” She sobered. “It was pure carnage down there. A bloodbath.” After a pause, she added, “Oh, and Lannan’s furious—he’s been looking for you.”

“Oh wonderful. Just what I need.” The thought that Lannan was looking for me made me feel as cozy as a bed of nails. It wasn’t time for my tithe, so whatever the hell he wanted had to be some other plan his perverted mind had come up with. “I guess I have to tell them about our trip.”

“All of it.” Chatter’s voice was somber as he leaned forward. “Grieve was out in the woods, waiting for Cicely on our way home.”

Rhiannon jerked her head toward me, then back at the road as we swerved on black ice. “Grieve? Oh, Cicely.”

“We’re linked . . .” I shook my head and stared at my hands. “I have to save him, Rhia. I can’t leave him to Myst— he hates what he’s becoming. I can’t let him turn into a monster. And he will, if we don’t get him away from her.” I suddenly stopped, angry that I had to defend myself against my family as well as the vampires and Lainule. “I love him. I know it’s risky, but I love him. If you can’t handle it, I’ll move. I’ll find another place where I don’t put you in danger.”

“Stop this.” Peyton’s voice came from the backseat and she leaned up, nudging Chatter out of the way. “The both of you, stop it. Grieve and Cicely are what they are and there’s nothing we can do to change it—or change them. They will go on seeking each other out because they bound themselves together on a level far deeper than a promise. So we have to deal with it. Even if Grieve spills that he saw Cicely, what’s he going to tell Myst? That we were out in the woods? Big fucking deal. They don’t know what we were doing. So might I suggest we go home and concentrate on helping Kaylin?”

Rhiannon blinked but nodded. “You have a point.”

Chatter fell back against the seat, his arms crossed, looking mournful. “Grieve will never give up. He’s always gotten what he wants, and he wants to be with Cicely. I still think she’s in grave danger.”

“We’re all in grave danger,” I said, ending the conversation. “There’s nothing in this world that’s safe for us now.” And that finished that.

At home, Leo was stewing. “I can’t believe you took off like that without telling me. Geoffrey was asking where the hell you were—and so was Lannan.” He was in my face, making me angry.

I poked him in the chest. Hard. “The vampires may own me, but they do not spend every moment of my waking day telling me what I can and cannot do. Kaylin needed help. You were off somewhere, busy. You weren’t any help. But most of all, you need to remember that I don’t play by your rules, nor are you my big brother or uncle or father. So chill out, dude.”

Leo looked about ready to blow, but I skirted him and went up to the room Kaylin had claimed for his own. He preferred the attic, which was a comfortable nook. I knelt beside him and took out the fetish.

“Kaylin? Can you hear me? We’re going to bring you out of it—we’re going to help you.” I looked up, motioning to Rhiannon. I was exhausted, but the shaman had warned me that we had very little time in which to perform the ritual; that Kaylin would retreat further into his mind if we didn’t rescue him and wake his night-veil demon soon.

“What do you need? And are you sure we should do this now? You look absolutely out of it.” She pressed her lips together, a worried expression on her face.

“We have to. Can you bring me a sandwich first? Then we need a pound of sea salt, enough belladonna to ring the circle, and a dozen quartz spikes that are at least two inches long each.”

I slumped on the floor beside Kaylin’s bed, wanting nothing more than to drag myself to my room, crawl into bed, and crash for a week, but it wasn’t going to happen. As I leaned back against his bed and rested my head on the mattress, closing my eyes, all I could see was a swirl of colors. I let them play out, following them on the screen of my closed eyelids, as they whirled and dipped. Red, green . . . a splash of yellow . . . and then they began to take form.

A creature, winged and fierce, appeared out of the sparkles, and it homed in on me, flooding me with panic. I wanted to move, but I couldn’t, and it latched hold to my shirt and began dragging itself up, its claws holding tight to the material. I couldn’t open my eyes but I could see it nonetheless, and I knew it was headed toward my face—and toward my mind.

What are you doing? What do you want? Who are you, Cicely Waters? Do you remember who you were?

The words flooded my mind and I stammered, trying to answer, but I didn’t understand the questions. Who are you? What are you doing to me?

Are you prepared to unleash me? Are you ready to accept the consequences for what you’re about to do? And then it was face to face with me, and it leaned close. All I could see were flashes of light everywhere.

Ulean! Help me! What is this thing? I can’t break free. I was struggling, trying to disconnect from its energy, trying to shake it off. But it had hold of me on a psychic level.

And then, as Ulean swept into the room and rattled the door and shook the pictures on the wall, the creature let go and moved off. I opened my eyes, trying to catch my breath. As I looked down, the front of my shirt was rumpled and I knew I hadn’t been dreaming.

What was that?

I believe it was a manifestation of Kaylin’s demon.

Do you think I’m doing the right thing, Ulean?

I believe you have no choice. There are murmurs on the wind. Kaylin must live. We need him. And she would say no more.

Rhiannon brought me a ham-and-cheese sandwich, and she also handed me an energy drink, which I slammed down. I wolfed down the food, and then, as she and Leo—who was still simmering—brought in the ritual items, I went into my room and changed into a loose gown. Nightgowns were fine for ritual, and I needed to get out of my clothes. I held up the fetish, staring at the image of the creature. Sure enough, it was the same thing I’d seen in Kaylin’s room. A night-veil demon.

I closed my fist around the figurine and brushed my hair back, slipping a headband on to hold it back. Picking up my stiletto dagger, I double-checked to make sure I was wearing my moonstone pendant. Then, I returned to Kaylin’s bedroom.

“Help me get him in position. He needs to be on his back, arms out at his sides, legs not touching one another, naked.” We stripped him, and I stopped when we pulled off the loose kimono that Leo and Rhiannon had dressed him in. He was toned, muscled but not muscle-bound. I automatically scanned his body and I found myself wondering what it would be like to touch that smooth, inviting skin . . . to feel him touch me.

My wolf growled and I gasped, pressing my hand to my stomach. Never worry, Grieve . . . I might like to look, but you know you are my only love, my soul mate and lover. The wolf settled down but felt restless and antsy. And I . . . I wondered once again where this was all leading, and how I could possibly save Grieve when I wasn’t even sure I could save myself.

I motioned for all of them to leave. “I need one of you—Chatter, will you stay? Otherwise, the more people there are, the more it will complicate the ritual.”

As Leo, Rhiannon, and Peyton filed out—the first looking ready to revolt—I shut the door and turned to Chatter. “You need to have my back. I have to release the demon but keep it contained within him. The only way I can do that is to struggle with it and break the fetish against his heart once it fully wakes. The shaman gave me its name, and with that I can control the creature, but it will try to attack me.”

“I thought it was already part of him,” Chatter said.

“So did I, but apparently what happened was that as it merged with his DNA and died, it left behind a hatchling. And it’s ready to hatch.”

“Ah.” Chatter nodded. He looked like he wanted to say something else.

“What is it? And don’t say ‘nothing.’ You’re upset about Grieve.”

“You should not count on him. I love him perhaps more than you—he’s like a brother to me, but I’m practical. Grieve belongs to Myst, and Myst won’t take lightly to anybody tampering with her toys.”

I let out a short sigh. “No offense, but I don’t give a fuck what you—or Leo—or Rhiannon thinks. You know that Grieve and I’ve been together before, in another life. I was part of the Indigo Court, he was Cambyra Fae. We were in love and we were hunted down and we bound our souls together before we killed ourselves. We’re here to even the score, we’re here to find each other. I will not lose him again, do you understand?”

Chatter’s eyes flashed and he leaned in—the closest to angry I’d ever seen him. “Of course, I know perfectly well that you were together before. I was there. I am as much a part of this whole mess as you are.”

I didn’t want to look at him. I knew what he was talking about but hadn’t yet admitted it to myself. I didn’t want to think about the truth—it was too raw; it made me too angry. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“One of us has to say it—and you have to accept it. You were Myst’s daughter and both you and I know that she’s out to destroy you for betraying her! Grieve is her bait—she doesn’t want him, she wants you. If you go charging in, she’s just going to capture you. That’s why she’s keeping him. You can’t really think she loves him. She loves no one.” He leaned back, arms crossed.

I stared at him as his words ricocheted through the room. “No, no—I was part of the Indigo Court but I was never her daughter! You lie!” But my protest was weak. He was telling the truth. I’d known since my first flashback a week or so ago, but I hadn’t wanted to admit it to myself. “I can’t face being Myst’s daughter. She isn’t my mother. Krystal is . . . was . . .”