Deven looked out the window around the street. “Okay,” he said. “Go.”
Their driver, a longtime Elite himself, obeyed with a “Yes, Sire.”
David let out a breath. “That’s a relief,” he said as the club building grew smaller. Eventually they turned onto another street and it totally disappeared from view. “How far out are they?”
Deven spoke into his phone. “Location? Good. Any signs of pursuit? Keep me posted.” He looked over at the others. “Halfway across town. Ramos is pretty sure they’re being followed.”
“Which means they’ve been watching,” Jonathan mused. “I wonder if they were at the courthouse, too, or if they just knew we’d be at La Caccia.”
“No telling,” David said. “If they already had surveillance on the club, it’s possible they didn’t know where we were before that and just saw us arrive—it can’t be that common for two limos to pull up there. They’re unabashedly conspicuous.”
“That’s what makes them an ideal decoy,” Jacob said, all the way in the very back seat with Cora asleep on his shoulder and Vràna riding happily with her tongue hanging out. “They’re a lot more comfortable, though. I haven’t ridden in a van since I was an Elite.”
A block away from the club, where there was an urban church with two large passenger vans parked on the street, a third van went completely unnoticed. Two by two, figures appeared from the shadows . . . if one looked closer, one might see they had on similar clothes to the vampires who had taken the limousines but weren’t nearly as heavily armed. It was almost as if the limo passengers expected an attack.
The limo drivers were to take a long and meandering route through town before leaving Sacramento toward the south . . . while the van went straight out of town and made for the Haven, to the west. If the limos could shake their pursuers before they reached the city limits, so much the better.
“How can we be sure they didn’t spot the fake us?” Miranda asked. “We know based on the stuff we found at the Texas base that their tech isn’t nearly as advanced as ours, but all they’d need to know that wasn’t us would be a pair of binoculars.”
“Well, we can’t be absolutely sure, but I think the fact that they’re following the limos is a good sign.” David turned slightly in the seat so that the Queen could lean on him. She looked pretty exhausted, and in fact was asleep within five minutes.
Olivia was conked out, too, and Jonathan, who had called shotgun so he’d have more room, was starting to nod off. It would be only three thirty when they got back to the Haven, giving everyone plenty of time to shower and unwind before bed.
David was looking forward to falling over onto the mattress and not moving for a while. He wasn’t sure how he felt about tonight. He was willing to admit that Miranda’s suspicions were right—she hadn’t said so tonight, but he knew she thought he was upset about the wedding. But just as Miranda had said, he had to mourn that loss—a loss that had happened sixty years ago and was still not remotely healed. There were so many layers to their history; every time one scarred over, another started bleeding . . . hell, he hadn’t even bothered taking the bandage off until after he met Miranda, and thanks to his decades of denial the Queen had been left with wounds of her own. She was just wise enough not to let them fester.
But if Deven’s getting married would help close that door and finally convince David’s heart it was over, maybe he could finally let go. He was tired of hurting over something that should have been long over with.
He stared out the window, not really seeing what passed by, thinking that humans were lucky, in a way. They had to age and die, often horribly, and their lives were so brief . . . but they had one distinct advantage over vampires.
They had only one lifetime to live with their regrets.
• • •
Everyone was grateful to arrive back at the Haven; even Vràna looked much happier once she was out of the van.
Deven checked his phone again; the last text he’d received had stated that they were pretty sure they’d lost the car that was tailing them and would be heading to the Signet-owned warehouse where they could leave the limos for the day and get some rest before returning the following night. He wouldn’t feel at ease about the whole thing until he heard they’d arrived.
In the meantime, the guests headed off to bed, most exchanging hugs and a few kisses. As soon as David and Miranda had vanished around the corner, Jonathan took Deven’s hand and pulled him toward their suite, giving him a mischievous grin as he did so.
Right outside the Signet suite, Deven finally got a text:
Arrived. All clear.
“So,” the Consort said, closing and locking the suite door behind them, “I suppose this is our one-day honeymoon.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Then you had better go clean up so I can get you dirty again.”
Deven grinned, pulling off his shirt with a yawn. “You know chances are we’ll just fall asleep.”
Jonathan came over and kissed him. “Not this time,” he said. “I’m not letting today slip away. After today we can both do what we want, like always—but today you’re all mine. I want to remember every moment—and trust me, Mr. Burke, I intend to make every single one memorable.”
Deven couldn’t help it—he smiled, damn near beaming, at the name, which gave him a surge of what he realized had to be real happiness. Jonathan was right; they had to grab it and hold on while it lasted. “All right,” he replied. “I’m all yours.” He headed toward the bathroom, but stopped and said, “Just do me a favor . . . have Marta bring up a really big pot of coffee.”
Fifteen
Night descended over the Haven and revealed a shining three-quarter moon; its cool blue-white light bathed the terrace, spilling inside through the windows, while the wind wandered aimlessly through the trees. It was a quiet, serene night, and a welcome respite for the seven Signets who had passed the day curled up asleep . . . or occupied in other ways.
Deven leaned in and nuzzled Jonathan’s ear to wake him. Jonathan grunted and said, without opening his eyes, “You have clothes on. I don’t approve.”
“You can sleep in for a while longer if you like,” Deven told him. “I saw Olivia off—her flight departs at ten, so she hit the road an hour ago. Jacob and Cora are about to leave as well. I tendered our official good-byes to all three of them—they understood your absence. David and Miranda will be here until midnight.”
“I’m meeting with the limo team as soon as they get here,” Jonathan murmured. “I’m getting up.”
“I can do that,” Deven said. “Go back to sleep.”
“No, no . . . Thomas asked me last night to come to the debriefing since it’s an evaluation of the Elite’s performance. As Second he wants me there as the commanding officer. It won’t take long.”
Deven stood, but Jonathan reached out and took his hand before he could walk away. The Consort’s eyes opened, and he held Deven’s, smiling softly. “I love you,” he said.
“I love you, too. Now take your time . . . I know you’re still worn out.”
“I keep forgetting how athletic you are. I’ll be lucky if I can walk.” Jonathan’s eyes had drifted shut again.
“Is that a complaint?”
He grinned. “Absolutely not, my Lord.”
Deven squeezed his hand, shaking his head. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Who wouldn’t be, with such encouragement?”
He rolled over as Deven left the room, pulling the pillow over his head, which meant he’d be up within ten minutes.
Deven left the suite through the terrace door, stepping out into the cool evening with a contented sigh. He had expected to be the only one up and about this early, but a feminine figure stood by the wall, watching the forest sway and shiver. Even if he hadn’t already known who it was, the large furry shadow next to her would have given it away.
“My Lady,” he said. “Do you mind if I join you?”
She smiled. “Not at all, my Lord.”
“You two are due to depart soon—is everything ready?”
“Yes. Jacob is making sure our things are safely stowed in the car. Truthfully . . . while I had a moment, I was hoping I might find you out here.”
“Oh? Why?”
Cora bit her lip, torn. “I do not wish to interfere in your private affairs, but . . . I have been worried about you for some time now.”
He had to smile at that. “Everyone is worried about me,” he pointed out. “You’re in good company.”
“I have somewhat different reasons,” she replied. Seeming unsure what to do with her hands, she put them on the wall the way most people did. “I am worried . . . about your soul.”
Deven’s heart sank. “Cora, please don’t—”
“Not in the way you think,” she insisted. “I have no sermon for you. I would be both foolish and incredibly presumptuous to think you have not heard it all a thousand times. But you must know . . . Jacob and I are less bound up in the Circle as we live so far away, but I have been able to feel your sorrow and pain trying to live without faith. I do not care what you believe, my Lord. But you must reawaken that part of you, or all the magic and strange creatures in the world will not save you.”
He blinked. “Strange creatures?”
She blushed a little. “A few weeks ago, I was in meditation, and I felt something over here in California by virtue of the Circle connection. I could feel something being done to you—magic. I felt a presence, and that presence greeted me as a friend.”
Understanding, he nodded. “You met Nico.”
“I believe so.” She cast a glance around them, though there was no one else outside, and said, “I know he is not mortal. I could sense it. I am not sure what he is—I did not know there were possibilities beyond human and vampire.”
He debated for a moment whether to tell her, and decided of all their friends she was the least likely to blab it all over the Circle. “He’s an Elf,” Deven said, expecting her to express some kind of incredulity.
She didn’t. She simply nodded. Then she looked at him keenly, and he knew what she was seeing. “You are, too,” she said. “At least in part.”
“Yes.”
Cora reached down and rubbed Vràna’s head with one hand. “When I was here in my mind, I got the strangest sense that I had seen him before. Since then I have thought about it many times, trying to remember. Almost the moment I stepped out here and saw your forest, it came to me.”
“Go on.”
“The first night I met you, you touched my hand, and I saw something . . . a young man. He had long auburn hair and deep violet eyes, and was watching me—you—with such love, my heart could barely contain it. It was gone in a second, and I thought I had imagined it.”
Deven’s heart had tightened more and more with each trait she described. “That was Nico,” he confirmed. “That was definitely him. But Cora . . . he’s gone. Back to his paradise and to his people. Even if he returns to heal me again, I don’t want to love him. It hurts too much . . . and I’ve hurt too many people. I’m not going to cause Jonathan any more pain than I already have.”
Cora gave him a sad smile. “Do you think love can be switched on and off at will like an electric light?”
“No. But I know it can be walled off, pushed aside.”
“You mustn’t do that,” she said earnestly, her lovely face grave. “The way to open the spirit is through love. It is through love that we are redeemed, made whole.” Cora returned her gaze to the trees for a minute before she asked carefully, “Do you pray, my Lord?”
Deven sighed and leaned on the wall. “No, Cora. I do not.”
“Would it bother you if I prayed for you?”
His first impulse was to snap at her that she should mind her own goddamned business . . . but he found that, after that first knee-jerk reaction, it didn’t bother him at all. If it had been anyone else, he might have felt differently, but he understood Cora’s motivations; she was his friend, and she was only offering love. Whatever his past, he couldn’t help but be touched. “No.” He smiled faintly at her. “Pray to your heart’s content, my Lady.”
She was unsatisfied but didn’t push. “Thank you.” Quickly, probably before he could change his mind, she came up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I believe my Prime is calling to me; I shall go now. I hope we all meet again soon.”
As she walked away, he replayed her words in his mind. First Nico, now Cora. It almost felt like they were in collusion. He hadn’t had so many people nosing into his religious life since he had a religious life.
He heard someone come outside and knew immediately who it was. The Queen of the South joined him at the wall.
“You’re not worried about my soul, too, are you?” he asked.
She gave him a long blink. “No more than usual.”
“Good.”
Rather than asking the obvious question, Miranda just asked, “How was the wedding day?”
“Exhausting.”
“That’s it?”
“No.” Deven leaned on his elbows, staring down at the ring. The question came out before he could really think about it. “Do you ever wonder why people love you?”
The Queen moved closer, extending a hand to cover his. “There is no why,” she told him, her tone brooking no argument. “They love you because they’re them and you’re you—flawed, tired, sad, strong, loving, all of it. Love doesn’t need a why.”
She sounded so certain that he almost believed her. He put an arm around her waist, and she leaned on him with a smile. “What’s His Lordship doing?” he asked.
“Most of our stuff’s already in the car,” she replied. “I think he’s anxious to get home. He’s up at the front of the Haven watching Jacob and Cora drive off. What about Jonathan?”
“In the garage talking to the Elite who posed as us in the limos and the lieutenants who led the security details last night.”
“I feel like I should be doing something useful,” Miranda chuckled. “But it’s so nice out here, and there’s never enough time for any of us to spend together. We should get your Nico to move here so he can teleport us back and forth.”
He didn’t reply, and neither spoke again until Miranda lifted her head, frowning. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“It sounds like an alarm clock,” she replied. “Kind of a—”
Deven felt the vibration a split second before thunder tore through the night.