Never Again (37 page)
Happy’s soul.
“I have her,” said Trent.
“How long?” asked Ant, his voice hoarse.
“Five minutes should be enough,” said Ember. “I’ll keep the time.”
Each minute seemed to last a century. As soon as Ember intoned, “One minute left,” Lucinda felt her whole body go white-hot.
She cried out, her knees buckling. Gray caught her and scooped her into his arms.
Snap. Snick.
The sounds started at her feet and kept issuing over and over, faster and faster. Up her legs, torso, arms, neck, head.
Snap. Snick.
It was painful, this release. The magic clung to her, reluctant to leave its host, not wanting death any more than Happy.
Snap. Snick.
The sounds started at her feet and kept issuing over and over, faster and faster. Up her legs, torso, arms, neck, head.
Snap. Snick.
It was painful, this release. The magic clung to her, reluctant to leave its host, not wanting death any more than Happy.
Snap. Snick.
She felt herself go stiff, and then her eyes rolled back in her head. The light burst inside her, gold and black, light and dark. Then she heard a female voice echo inside her mind,
You are my Chosen. You and your mate shall protect the All in All, in the soul, in the heart, nevermore.
You are my Chosen. You and your mate shall protect the All in All, in the soul, in the heart, nevermore.
“Lucinda!”
The pain left her in a rush, and when it was all gone, she was left with the sure knowledge of what to do next. She looked at Gray, who held her so tightly, his gaze worried, and she smiled. “Put me down. I know what to do now.”
He did as she asked, and once Lucinda was on her feet, she walked to the bed where Ant cradled Happy’s lifeless form. It was so simple. She plucked Trent’s glittery gray bubble from the air, and his magic hissed away. “Go home,” she whispered to the soul. “You still have work to do.”
Then she placed her hand briefly on Happy’s still chest. Where her palm had lain, light glowed. The soul sank down into the light, and as soon as it disappeared into Happy’s body, the glow faded.
Lucinda leaned down and kissed Happy’s forehead. Then she whispered into her ear, “Awake.”
Happy sucked in a huge gulp of air, and her eyes flew open. “Holy shit!” she cried. “I can’t believe that worked.”
Gray couldn’t believe everything had turned out all right.
Lucinda was free of her curse.
And if she wanted, free of him, as well.
He was glad Happy had survived the experience. She’d been too excited to stay in bed, so Ant carried her downstairs so the rest of Nevermore could fuss over her. They were all still here, bringing her tea and scones, fluffing her pillow, and with Ant there, by her side.
Gray wondered if Ant knew what a goner he was. Sure, the kid was nineteen and Happy sixteen, but he knew love-struck when he saw it. For instance, his own expression in the mirror.
Lucinda played the hostess, filling teacups and plates until Ember and Rilton shooed her away. She stood in the living room leaning against the doorjamb and watching everyone chat. It was sort of the party she’d wanted, but he hoped . . . he hoped she would stay. He’d help her host a party every night if that was what brought her joy. He wanted to see her smile, hear her laugh, feel her hand in his. He wanted to wake up next to her and lose himself in her every night. He wanted to argue with her, and then have hot, stupid makeup sex. Goddess help him, he wanted to do the dishes with her, and sit in the library, even with Grit and Dutch carrying on, and read to her. They’d sit by the fire, her head on his shoulder, while he regaled her with Poe. He’d read “The Raven” to her first because that poem seemed the most appropriate.
Did she want him? Now that she was free of her curse and could do anything, have anyone . . . would she stay with him still?
He watched her intently, his heart trapped in his throat, his hands shoved into his pockets. He was riddled with doubts, but so in love with her that every centimeter of him ached with it. She seemed so serene now, as though she’d figured out her place in the world.
He wanted to feel that way, too.
But with her by his side.
“Let’s go upstairs,” he whispered.
She smiled. “We don’t have time for that.”
“Just for future reference, there’s
always
time for
that
,” he said, “but I just wanted to talk to you.”
always
time for
that
,” he said, “but I just wanted to talk to you.”
“Okay.”
He took her hand and led her upstairs to their bedroom. The whole way there, he rehearsed in his head what he planned to say. Yet, when they arrived in the room, and he’d shut the door to ensure their privacy, he blurted out, “Don’t leave me. Please.”
“I won’t leave you in the lurch,” she said carefully. Her gaze searched his face. Could she not see his desperation? His love? He wasn’t trying to hide from her anymore.
Gray’s throat knotted. If she wanted to go, he’d let her go. He wanted nothing more than her happiness, even if that meant a life without him in it. But he wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t love her, or that he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with her.
“I love you, Lucinda.”
Her eyes widened.
“I’m not pressuring you. If you don’t feel the same way, it’s okay. I don’t want any lies or secrets between us. And I won’t make you stay if you want to go. Just . . . please think about it, would you? About being my wife . . . forever.”
“You love me.”
Tears fell down her cheeks, and Gray felt like an asshole. He’d made her cry. What kind of an idiot made the woman he loved
cry
? He took her into his arms and wiped away her tears. “I’m doing this all wrong! Damn it. Baby, I’m—”
cry
? He took her into his arms and wiped away her tears. “I’m doing this all wrong! Damn it. Baby, I’m—”
Lucy pressed her fingers against his lips. “Shush. I don’t think I can take much more. I love you, too, Gray. When you’re not around, I feel like half a person. I’ll stay here, by your side, for as long as you want me.”
“Until the end of the time?”
“Hmm.” She tilted her head. “I may have to check my calendar. . . .”
“Why, you—” He scooped her up and tossed her onto the bed.
“Gray, our guests . . . ”
He kissed her until she went pliant beneath him. Then he grinned. “Our guests are fine. They won’t miss us.”
“You really don’t understand the concept of a calendar, do you? I can probably pencil you in on Tuesdays.”
“Every day,” he muttered, yanking up her shirt and planting kisses on every inch of smooth flesh. “For the rest of our lives. No. For the rest of
eternity
.”
eternity
.”
She threaded her fingers through his hair, and he looked up. In her eyes shone her love for him, and finally, oh, finally, he felt as though he’d found his place. In the world.
And in the heart.
Read on for a sneak peek at the next book
in the Wizards of Nevermore series,NOW OR NEVERby Michele BardsleyComing soon from Signet Eclipse.
Thirty years ago . . .
Millicent Dover loved children.
She would never, ever be able to have any of her own. So, she funneled all that unrequited tender regard to her charges at the Raven’s Heart orphanage.
Raven’s Heart was a repository for those darlings who were too different to succeed in their mundane families. Should an infant begin to show signs of magical heritage or be born with hex marks or, in some sad cases, otherworldly extremities—tails being the most common—the parents could drop off their newborns, or any child up to the age of four, at Raven’s Heart.
No questions asked.
A death certificate would be issued and if necessary, a coroner’s report.
And the poor, sweet dears would be left in Millicent’s care.
Since the House of Ravens funded the orphanage, their members received priority access to the young magicals. Even so, she worked very hard to place the children in good homes, and she worked even harder to make sure the children were well mannered, strong in mind and in body, and above all, obedient.
Millicent didn’t tolerate sass.
If by the age of five, the children at Raven’s Heart had not been adopted, some were sent to the workhouses in Mexico, and others were gifted to European businesses that catered to a . . . well,
particular
and wealthy clientele.
particular
and wealthy clientele.
And then there were Millicent’s angels.
Like the adorable cherub who now held her hand so tightly.
She was such a good girl. Smart, pretty, duteous. Millicent loved her angels the best—she really did—but it seemed as though Lenore had more to offer this world.
There was just something about the girl. She had a . . . sparkle.
Well,
thought Millicent,
perhaps that shine would serve her well on the other side.
Yes. Sweet little Lenore would be the brightest of all the angels.
thought Millicent,
perhaps that shine would serve her well on the other side.
Yes. Sweet little Lenore would be the brightest of all the angels.
Millicent opened the door to the special room. Only her angels were allowed to see it. It was all pink and ruffles and lace. Cheerful. Like walking into a pile of cotton candy.
In the corner sat a white chaise longue, the perfect spot for an angel’s repose. They always looked peaceful as they lay down to rest. It was a point of pride for her that they never suffered. She photographed their final moments and put those pictures into the scrapbooks she kept. Sometimes, she would take her dinner breaks in this room, and remember all the children she had loved, and who had loved her.
“It’s very pretty in here, Miss Millicent.”
“Thank you, dear.” She patted the girl’s bouncy black curls. “Go sit in the chair. We’ll have cookies and tea. And while you enjoy your treats, I’ll read you a story.”
The tea service was already set up, and so was the plate arrangement of paper-thin cookies.
Lenore took her seat and waited for Millicent to take hers.
“One lump of sugar, or two?” asked Millicent as she picked up the teapot.
“Two, please.”
Oh, she was so polite. Such a treasure. Millicent smiled as she poured the fragrant liquid into the delicate china cups. “You must drink all of your tea before taking a cookie.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The girl placed the edge of the cup to her lips, and for the tiniest moment, Millicent had the urge to knock it out of her hand.
No. She’d been given her directive. The girl’s father himself had insisted his five-year-old daughter be put into Millicent’s care, and more specifically, that Lenore be given angelic treatment. Even though it was rare for magicals to give up their own children—especially a powerful Raven like Lenore’s father—it wasn’t exactly unheard of, either. She’d seen the disappointment in the father’s eyes as he looked at his daughter.
Mundanes gave up their children for being too magical.
Lenore’s father had given her up because she was not magical enough.
Such a shame, too, because the girl was otherwise perfect. Ah, it was sad, yes. But Millicent had long ago learned that she should not question her betters. Her life was devoted to the children at Raven’s Heart. And though she was experiencing unusual qualms about seeing Lenore to the other side, she would do her duty.
The girl took the barest of sips before grimacing. “Miss Millicent, this tastes funny.”
Startled, Millicent stared at Lenore’s light blue eyes. She’d seen a crystal like that once, so light blue it was nearly white. Like ice.
Like judgment.
A chill stole through Millicent, but she would not be cowed by the girl. She frowned. “It’s very rude to make disparaging comments about what your hostess is serving. You are a guest, Lenore.”
“I apologize,” she said in a soft, penitent voice. “But isn’t it rude of the hostess to put death into the tea?”
Millicent blinked. The brew was her own special blend of herbs and alprazolam. She used just the right amount of jasmine and magic to disguise the taste.
“I would like to go home,” said Lenore. She put the full cup into its saucer then folded her hands onto her lap. She stared unblinkingly at Millicent. Those glacier eyes seemed more tinted now, more blue, more . . . magical.
The back of Millicent’s neck prickled, and sweat beaded her brow. Lenore really was the most amazing child. None of her angels had ever suspected the tea had been doctored. None had ever uttered a complaint.
“I’m afraid you can’t go home,” said Millicent.
She nodded, and sighed. “Father does not want me.”
“You really should drink the tea, dear. It’s for the best.”
Lenore glanced at the cup. “No, thank you. May I go now?”
“Where would you go?”
Lenore considered this question, one finger perched on her chin. “Away,” she said. “Far, far away.”
“That’s not a destination,” said Millicent. She rose, smoothed out her dress, and smiled at the girl. “While you decide where you would like to go, I will get the book. Do you like the story of Cinderella?”
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