Sunrise(Pact Arcanum 2) (28 page)

Zachariah swallowed, relieved. Then he turned toward the door.

Nick grabbed the lapels of Zachariah’s suit jacket with both hands. Spinning around, he dragged the Nightwalker off his feet, slamming him onto the table. Holding him down, Nick growled, a sound more animal than human. “But you tried to kill my friend,” he said in an angry whisper. “You threatened his life. For that, I am not inclined to be merciful.”

“No, Lord, please—”

“Give my regards to Luscian—in hell.”

Zachariah disappeared in a flash of ruby light. His fists now empty, Nick watched as another layer of ash settled over the table. Straightening, he finally allowed himself to turn his gaze to his bandmate, who had backed as far away as possible, eyes wide with horror. Watching Scott shrink away from his gaze, Nick suddenly felt exhausted, the adrenaline rush of combat fading. He dropped heavily into his empty chair, defeated.

“Scott, in thirteen years, I’ve never asked you for anything you didn’t want to give. But now I’m asking you to trust me. You need to decide if a decade on the road together, everything we’ve been through, means enough to let me explain.” Nick raised his hand to where the wound had been on his neck and wiped the blood away from the unbroken skin beneath. “Say yes and I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Say no, and I’ll walk right out that door and you won’t see me again. It’s your choice. And I’m sorry, but you have to make this decision right now.”

Scott found his voice. “Nick, what the hell is going on?”

Nick slipped on his windbreaker and zipped it up, hiding his torn shirt. “Yes or no, Scotty. All or nothing. There are no other choices.”

Scott’s slumped at the use of his nickname. “Yes.”

Standing, Nick reached into his pocket and removed his wallet. Grabbing the entire wad of cash, he threw it on the table. “Not here,” he said. “We’ll go back to the hotel, and then I’ll tell you.” He walked over to the unconscious bodyguards and snapped his fingers. The four guards woke immediately and scrambled to their feet.

“What the hell?” Don asked in surprise. Then all four went still.

“We had an uneventful meal, and no one else came in,” said Nick in a commanding tone. “You see nothing out of the ordinary, and now you’re going to take us back to the hotel.”

Joey blinked, confused for a moment, and then his face cleared.

“Ready to leave, boys?” The other bodyguards watched the musicians expectantly, ignoring the disorder of the room and the pale flakes of ash coating their clothes.

“We’re ready.” Nick turned back to Scott. “Aren’t we?”

CHAPTER 34

Anchorpoint City, Colorado

Rory reclined contentedly on the couch in their living room, listening to Takeshi play his latest composition on the piano. A soft tone sounded through the apartment as the security AI announced a visitor. “Nicholas Magister Luscian is requesting entry.”

Rory jerked upright. It had been more than a year since he’d heard from Nick. The young musician had kept in touch with Takeshi, who had handled his basic citizenship arrangements, but he had made no attempt to contact Rory since that day in France, after the Burning. Rory swallowed and looked at Takeshi, his eyes bright.

With a sigh, Take rose from the piano and walked to the front hallway. As soon as he pulled open the door, Nick stumbled inside. “Hello, Takeshi,” he said, slurring his words and trying to hold himself upright. “Is Rory home?”

Take wrinkled his nose at the stench of blood and alcohol on Nick’s breath. “Damn, Nicholas, what have you been drinking?”

Nick giggled. “A bit of this; a bit of that.” His expression turned somber. “Take, where is Rory? I need him.”

Takeshi silently took in Nick’s torn shirt, the white fabric stained with blood and ashes. “Come in. I’ll take you to him.” He led him to the living room with Nick leaning heavily against him for support.

As soon as they entered the room, Nick launched himself forward to throw his arms around Rory’s neck and sobbed into the Nightwalker’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled over and over, his words almost unintelligible.

Rory stood stock still, his arms around Nick, his senses full of the Daywalker’s scent—still so achingly familiar, even corrupted by alcohol. Then, Nick deliberately turned his head to the side, exposing his throat. Rory’s bloodlust came violently to the fore, his predatory instincts immediately aroused by the gesture of submission. Unable to help himself, he bared his fangs and bit down into Nick’s neck, the blood magic bridging their minds. The memories Nick offered him flooded out—his fight in the restaurant in London, and Scott’s disbelief as he explained what he was. Rory filled the other vampire’s mind with images of their friendship, all the happy times and late-night conversations they had shared. After a few moments, Rory felt the stream of terrified thoughts from the other vampire ease as Nick passed out. Drawing back carefully from Nick’s neck, Rory cradled the unconscious Daywalker protectively in his arms. Only then did he feel his lover’s eyes on him. “Take, I—”

Takeshi held up his hand, his eyes half-closed in smoldering anger. “Please, don’t, Rory. I always knew he’d be back someday.” He sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to get used to the competition.”

Rory settled Nick gently on the couch before turning to Take again. “He’s not your competition. You always come first. If you want me to clean him up and send him away, I will. Just say the word.”

“I wouldn’t do that, Rory. I know how much he means to you.” Take studied the pattern of slashes in Nick’s shirt. “He looks like he was in a fight. Did you see what happened?”

“He got caught. House Daviroquir came after the two of them together. He’s not sure if his bandmate kindled, but he tried to tell Scott the truth about what might be in store for him. I guess we’ll know more in the morning.”

Takeshi nodded silently. “Let me know how things turn out.” He walked to the hall closet, grabbing a light jacket.

“Where are you going?” Rory asked, wide-eyed with disbelief.

“I’m going to crash at Anaba’s,” Take answered, one hand on the door handle. “Do me a favor and change the sheets if you decide to fuck him in our bed.”

Rory’s jaw dropped at the vulgar insinuation, but he was too speechless to protest as Take walked out, closing the door behind him. Rory collapsed into the easy chair next to the couch, wallowing in misery. Then, slowly, he gazed over at Nick’s sleeping form. Some of his sadness lifted involuntarily.
If you love something, set it free.
Leaning forward, he gently ran his fingers through the Daywalker’s hair. “You came back,” he said quietly.

CHAPTER 35

London, England; The next day

The sun climbed into the sky as Scott watched.
Is this all I have to look forward to?

His conscience answered him.
It isn’t everything. You’ll just have to try to find a balance between what you are now and what you were before.

His thoughts turned sour.
What am I going to do about Nick?
He could feel the empty space in his mind, like a missing tooth, the absence of the voice that was meant to be there.
They took him from me.
He clenched his teeth in rage.
The dyad is incomplete. How can I do this without him?

He’s not gone. He’s still here and he wants to stay with you,
he answered himself.

Scott took a deep breath.
I want to let him in. I really do,
he thought uncertainly.
But can I? Even the thought of sharing space with one of them sickens me.

Don’t you owe it to him to try?
argued the other half of his mind.

He lied to me. He kept me in the dark. The only reason he told me anything was because his hand was forced.

He was trying to protect you,
came his own reply.
You would have done the same thing if you had been in his shoes.

I am a Sentinel,
he thought.
We take care of our own.

The other half of his mind agreed.
You’ll find a way to make it work.

And just like that, it was decided. After pausing to absorb the implications of his final judgment, Scott set about considering the strategy and tactics that might protect them from the threats they would face. He was still at it two hours later when he heard a soft knock on the door. He psychically probed the hallway beyond, identifying the visitor before opening the door. “Hey, Don.”

“Morning, Scott. Just wanted to remind you we’ve got to get going to the airport in a couple of hours. You guys should probably get down to breakfast soon if you want anything to eat before we leave. I’ll send one of the security staff up for your bags.”

Scott cursed silently. “Can you give us a few minutes on that, Don? We were kind of out of it last night. I don’t think either of us finished packing.”

Don raised his eyebrows. “You’ve been doing this for how long now? Ten years?”

“Yeah, I know. We were just distracted.”

Don’s eyes narrowed. “Is this about that group meeting you had last night?”

Scott decided a half-truth would be easier to remember than a lie. “Yes. Nick told me about some personal problems he’s been having, and I’m still processing the information.”

“Anything we can do to help?”

Scott shook his head. “No, we’ve got it covered. I might want to go over the security arrangements for the rest of the tour with you later, though.”

“Anything specific?” The bodyguard was all business now that they were dealing with his area of expertise.

“I think Nick is more worried than usual that someone might try to get to us this time. I just want to make sure everything is covered.”

“Yeah, I can understand that. You know, we got a call from the restaurant last night. Apparently, someone trashed the dining room where you guys ate. I told them everything was fine when we left, so it must have happened right afterward. The weird thing was that they left the cash on the table, untouched.” He grinned. “Apparently, you guys left quite a big tip on top of the actual bill. They were willing to forgive a lot because of that and agreed not to raise a stink so there won’t be any bad publicity.”

“You know how it is, Don. Some of our fans can be a little crazy sometimes.”

Don laughed. “Don’t I know it. So I’ll give you another hour before we come by to collect your things.”

“Right.” Scott closed the door.
I should probably decide what I’m going to say before I speak to him.
Scott took a shower and dressed while he considered how best to approach the inevitable. Then he grabbed his room key and headed out.

“Nick? It’s me.” He knocked lightly on Nick’s door. After waiting a minute or so, he knocked again—louder. Glancing around, he placed his hand flat against the door, feeling the ward that threaded through the wood.
“Let me pass in peace. I mean no harm. The way is opened.”
A faint yellow glow spread from his palm across the surface of the door, then faded as the ward recognized him as a friend and shut down.
Looks like Nick left me the keys.

He glanced at the antiquated mechanical lock.
If only.
Scott touched his fingertips to the lock below the doorknob and concentrated, extending a delicate psychic probe as he tried to manipulate the lock with his limited telekinesis. A moment later, the tumblers of the lock slipped into place and he turned the knob to open the door. He slipped inside and closed the door behind him, then locked it.

The bed hasn’t been slept in.
Scott looked around.
Damn it, Nick,
he thought angrily to himself.
Where the hell are you?

“Scotty?”
He was shocked to hear Nick’s groggy voice in his head. The link flared into full wakefulness, and he finally became intimately aware of exactly what he truly was meant to be. Suddenly, he was whole—more than he had ever been in his life. The dyad was complete. He’d come home.

Turning his new awareness to his best friend and dyad brother, he asked,
“Nick, how?”

He could feel Nick in his mind, fully awake now and perfectly integrated into the dyad link, exactly as he should have been. The Daywalker answered quietly.
“Luscian liked to make hybrids. It was a hobby of his.”

“What do you mean ‘hybrids’?”
asked Scott.

“Whenever he killed a latent Sentinel, he drew the death out so that the Gift would progress far enough to fully activate the latent’s powers but not enough to protect the victim from being turned or to induce the biological hatred for vampires that would have made him useless as a scion. He became quite good at it over the millennia. It was one of the reasons House Luscian was so influential: he could create scions stronger than normal Nightwalkers, with all the power and abilities of a Sentinel. None of the other houses could match his success rate.”
Nick’s tone was disturbingly matter-of-fact.
“He kindled my Gift, making me a dark shadow of who I was meant to be, before he killed me. I guess the pre-existing bond was retained after I died. I think we’re stuck with each other.”
He hesitated.
“That is, if you still want to be. I can mask the link if you’ve decided you don’t want me around.”

“I want you to stay, Nick,”
thought Scott.
“We’ll make it work, somehow. This just makes it easier.”
He paused.
“Where are you, by the way?”

“Colorado.”
Scott felt Nick climb painfully out of bed, the vampire’s head throbbing from the exertion.
“I’m in one of the Hidden Cities, called Anchorpoint. It’s the Triumvirate’s capital, and the largest metahuman population center in North America.”

“What are you doing there?”
Scott asked.

“I wanted to see someone. Scott, hold on, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Before Scott could frame a reply, a flare of white light filled the center of the room and Nick appeared looking hungover and exhausted.
How did he get the stains on his face? Oh, man
 
…
 
he doesn’t actually weep blood, does he? This is going to be tougher than I thought.