Falling Blind: The Sentinel Wars Page 17

  In the living room, Paul was already rolling down his sleeve after feeding Ronan. A flush of color stained the Sanguinar’s cheeks, and a faint glow lit his eyes.

  “Is that enough?” asked Cain.

  Ronan shook his head. “It was all I dared take from Paul. He needs to be able to fight.”

  “Take my blood,” offered Andra.

  “No,” clipped Paul.

  Cain should have been right there with his brother, defending Andra’s blood, but he couldn’t do it. If the choice was a small sacrifice from Andra to save Rory suffering, it was an easy one to make.

  Paul took Andra’s hand in his. “You’re too tired. You haven’t been sleeping or eating. It’s not safe.”

  Ronan stayed where he was, his body still. Excitement and hunger shone in his eyes, but he made no moves to take what he so clearly wanted. “If not Andra, then you will need to call someone else. Not a Gerai, either. I will need more power than that if I’m to fight this demon.”

  Andra gave her husband a hard look. “I’m doing this. I can’t help Tori right now. At least this way, I’ll be helping someone.”

  Paul shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a good—”

  “I need this, Paul. Please don’t fight me.”

  He let out a long sigh, but gave a grudging nod. He looked at Ronan, warning clear on his face. “Don’t push it.”

  * * *

  Ronan had lied, but for all the right reasons. He could hear the heartbeat of Andra’s child and needed to reassure himself it was safe. The strain of Andra’s grief was weighing her down, exhausting her. It was obvious in her listlessness and the heavy fatigue riding her features. That strain wasn’t good for the child she carried, which meant it was his duty to do what he could to rid her of it.

  And the only way to do that was by having access to her. And her blood.

  Paul was overprotective of his wife, and the only person who could have swayed his decision was Andra herself.

  The setup had been too perfect for Ronan to resist, so he’d woven the lie, refusing to feel even a moment’s guilt. Every Theronai child was a gift, and Andra needed to be strong right now to ensure that child was healthy.

  Ronan didn’t dare go for the woman’s throat. Instead, he held out his hand for hers, and bent over her wrist. Hot, potent power flowed into him, clouding his thoughts for a moment. The baby was a boy, and the strength of that little life was shocking. It seeped into Ronan, filling him with a giddy sense of hope. He knew he wouldn’t have long before Paul intervened, so Ronan gathered his wits and moved past sensation into pure intellect.

  Weariness pounded through her with every beat of her heart. Grief. Guilt. Loneliness for her baby sister. All of it swirled together into a tight knot he wasn’t sure he could loosen. He was inundated with input, with emotions so raw and ragged they were nearly overwhelming.

  Using a burst of power fueled by Andra’s rich blood, Ronan went straight for the source of her anguish—her baby sister—and laid a muting veil over it. The fix wouldn’t last long—only a few days—but it would give her time to rest and regain her strength before those deep, searing feelings of guilt and loss came back to haunt her.

  Ronan sought out the new life, needing to reassure himself it was safe. As he did, he felt a curious stand of magic winding through her.

  Someone had altered her, and based on the familiar feel of it, Ronan was sure that either Logan or Tynan was to blame. Or thank, depending.

  Whatever had been done to her, she was fine. The baby was fine. And taking more blood would not be good for either of them. If her emotions interfered with the safety of the child, then he was sure that Paul would not stand in the way of Ronan doing what needed to be done.

  With a thought, Ronan closed her wounds. He sat back on the couch, feeling a wide grin stretch his face.

  “What?” asked Paul, his hand on his sword.

  He didn’t know. There was no way he could know. Andra didn’t even know.

  Ronan considered not telling them, but there seemed no point in waiting. Good news might be just the thing for them right now—something to help them through these trying times.

  He looked at Andra, who sat calm and still. A soft, sleepy look tugged at her eyelids. “You’re pregnant.”

  She blinked slowly, as if not understanding his words.

  Paul’s body went still in shock. “What? Are you sure?”

  “I am.”

  Andra looked up at her husband. There was no accusation in her eyes, only faint curiosity. “How? I thought you couldn’t get me pregnant.”

  “I was with you when you found out Nika was pregnant. I’ve been with you as you watched her over the past few months. I felt what you did.” He sat down beside Andra and took her hands in his. “You know I would do anything for you. Give you anything you wanted. And you wanted this. I bargained with Tynan for the serum.”

  Andra’s words were slow and halting, tinged with guilt. “I didn’t want you to know how I felt. The timing was bad. The war . . .”

  Paul gave her a lopsided grin. “To hell with the war and the timing. Our child will grow up with Nika’s. I’d say that’s all that matters.”

  “Your son,” said Ronan.

  A smile quivered on Andra’s lips. Tears flooded her eyes. “Our son.”

  Ronan saw Cain leave the room in a rush he tried to hide. The Theronai disappeared into the kitchen. Ronan decided it was his time to leave the couple alone to absorb the news as well. He had a call to make. Tynan was going to be overjoyed.

  * * *

  Cain was happy for his friends, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to hide his jealousy over their news. Staying would have given his selfish feelings away, ruining what was an otherwise beautiful moment.

  He wasn’t hungry, but he hadn’t eaten in hours. Neither had Rory. And Paul and Andra had both given blood. They all needed food, whether or not they wanted it, so Cain made himself busy in the kitchen, whipping up some pancakes and eggs.

  The faint blue light of Andra’s shield was still shimmering over the window, reassuring Cain that Rory was safe to rest. But once that shield went down, they needed to be ready to move.

  Cain needed a plan.

  Ronan slipped silently into the kitchen just as Cain was flipping the last batch of pancakes. He glanced at the Sanguinar. “Hungry?”

  “I am. Will you wake Rory?”

  “You said she shouldn’t sleep. That the dreams would screw with her head.”

  “I believe Andra’s shield will keep the Synestryn out. I can’t sense him right now.”

  “Then maybe she should stay asleep while she can.”

  “That’s your call.” Ronan started a pot of coffee.

  “Any ideas on how we’re going to find that demon?”

  “It’s a Synestryn lord—like Murak.”

  “Who nearly killed us.”

  “Indeed. In fact, I got the distinct impression that the two of them were related.”

  Cain slid the pancakes onto the growing mound. “Great. Strength runs in the family.”

  “This demon is angry. Filled with the need for vengeance.”

  “Can you find it?”

  “I think so. And if not, I’m certain it can find me.”

  Cain sighed. “I don’t like it. We can’t risk Andra, and even if Rory wasn’t being mind-fucked, she’s not strong enough yet.”

  “So we call in the others. Helen and Drake. Perhaps Liam and Dakota.”

  “Dakota isn’t exactly a veteran yet, either.”

  Ronan poured some coffee and offered it to Cain. “No, but she is powerful.”

  Cain had heard rumors of the Defender who had a talent with electricity, but he had yet to see her in action. “I think our safest bet is to go back to Dabyr.”

  “You think Rory will go quietly?”

  “No. I’m not sure how much I care at this point. My job is to keep her safe.”

  “Forever,” said Ronan.

  “What?”r />
  “Your job is to keep her safe forever. If she walks away from you because you were an overbearing ass, how will you ensure her safety then? You have to think long term. Tie her to you now with a bit of indulgence and you will be rewarded with a lifetime together.” Ronan’s gaze met Cain’s. “Perhaps also children of your own.”

  Cain shoved away from the stove, anger driving the air from his chest. “You had no right to go snooping around in my head.”

  “I do what I must to protect the survival of my race. Just as you will.”

  “I can’t risk her getting hurt just to trick her into caring about me.”

  “Who said anything about tricking her? You’re a good man. You want to give her what she wants. And she wants to stop her visions.”

  “If that happens, then she’s free to go.”

  “Only if your vow is fulfilled.”

  “I don’t understand. You’re not making any sense.”

  “You’re not looking at this objectively. Her vow will be fulfilled only if she finds the person who stops her visions, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So what if she never finds them?”

  “I’ve already thought of that, much to my shame. I won’t tie her to me that way. I won’t leave her to suffer just so that I can get what I want.”

  “There are other ways she could lose the visions. If she grows strong enough, she could block them herself. Had you considered that?”

  Cain hadn’t, which proved that Ronan was right. Cain wasn’t being objective.

  “See,” said Ronan, sounding smugly pleased with himself. “Everyone gets what they want. Rory’s visions go away and you get a family.”

  Leave it to a Sanguinar to tie everything up and dangle it right where Cain had no choice but to long for it. “It doesn’t seem right. It seems . . . sneaky.”

  “Perhaps a bit, but ask yourself what you’d be willing to do for a child of your own.”

  “You’ve been in my head. You know the answer to that.”

  “Tynan’s already given you the serum, has he not?”

  “He has, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything about it.” Despite how much time he’d spent fanaticizing about it.

  “Rory wants you. I’ve seen that delightful truth lurking in your memories.”

  “Me. Not a baby. There’s a big difference.”

  “So what will you do? Resist your desire for her? Resort to human methods of birth control?”

  “If I have to, yes.”

  Something in Ronan’s expression shifted from genial to scheming. The look faded so fast, Cain wasn’t even sure he’d seen it.

  Paul stuck his head in the kitchen. “Andra and I are leaving. I’m taking her back to Dabyr where it’s safe.”

  Cain’s instant denial of their decision died a swift death. Of course they had to leave. They had a child to protect now. Cain would have done no differently.

  However, that didn’t stop him from worrying about what would happen to Rory now. He questioned his ability to keep her safe without their help. All he had was his sword, and that wasn’t nearly good enough for her.

  “Are you sure it’s safe to leave now? You could wait until dawn.”

  Paul shook his head. “If I wait, she may change her mind about letting me take her home. I’ve worn her down, and I’m getting her away from you while the getting’s good. No offense, but knowing some Synestryn lord has your blood and can find you is just too much of a risk.”

  “I understand,” said Cain.

  Paul gave him a relieved nod. “Andra says her shield will hold for another hour or two. That will buy you some time.”

  Ronan set his coffee down. “I’ll see if I can find some way to obscure the blood connection to Rory.”

  “What about you?” asked Cain.

  “I’m much more capable of protecting my mind from invasion than Rory is. I’ll be fine.”

  Cain wasn’t so sure. “If you’re too weak—”

  “I won’t be. Now go and wake her. I want this done before Andra’s defenses fail.”

  Paul gave Cain a grim, apologetic look. “I’m sorry to ditch you like this.”

  “You’re doing the right thing.”

  Ronan pushed Paul out of the doorway, shooing him. “Cain can handle his woman. You need to do the same. Go.”

  Cain was fairly sure that Rory wasn’t the type of woman anyone simply handled, but he said nothing and went to do what he could to keep her alive for one more night.

  Chapter 14

  Joseph stood in the doorway of his friends’ suite, letting his grief hit him head-on. There was no other way to face something like this. As far as he knew, no one had come here since Angus and Gilda had died. Their rooms were just as they’d left them.

  An old book sat open on the coffee table. There was a glass in the sink. One of Gilda’s gray cloaks lay over the back of a recliner. Angus’s boots stood by the front door.

  Despite all these little signs of life, the suite was empty. Hollow. It echoed of loss and desolation, mocking what could have been.

  As the leader of the Theronai, Joseph should have come here long ago to clean out his friends’ home. But every time the thought crossed his mind, something pressing would come up, allowing him to put off the sad chore for a while longer.

  Now that “something pressing” had forced his hand. A new female of their kind had been found, and she was in need. Joseph couldn’t allow anything to come before that, no matter how much he wished to avoid more grief.

  With a heavy sigh, he went to the spare bedroom they’d used as a library. Shelves lined the walls. In the center of the room was a small, antique desk that, based on its size, had to have been used by Gilda alone.

  Joseph leaned over the desk and saw a leather-bound notebook filled with her elegant, scrawling script. As he began to read, he heard her voice in his head, lilting with her Celtic heritage.

  This was a journal of some kind, recounting the events leading up to her last days. She’d been worried, upset. Angus had been angry with her for a reason she didn’t state.

  The longer he read, the more he felt like an intruder. He had no reason to pry into her private thoughts. All he needed was her book listing the magical artifacts she’d catalogued over the centuries.

  Joseph went through the drawers, finding nothing of importance. He scanned the shelves, searching past the mass-produced titles to those that were older, and made by hand. He opened each one, pausing at those containing handwritten passages. As the stack of books he’d rejected grew, he heard a tentative knock on the doorframe.

  Lyka stood there, looking like sunshine incarnate. His pounding headache eased, and some of the weight of grief he’d felt since coming here seemed to lighten. Something deep in Joseph’s chest lurched toward her, desperate to be closer.

  He didn’t move an inch. Every time he’d approached her, she’d fled. This time he would hold his ground and hope that she stayed for more than a few seconds. He really needed her to stay, to ease him, just for a minute or two.

  “Lyka. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  As usual, her lean body was covered by soft, clinging clothing that revealed as much as it hid. He’d never seen her arms or legs bare, even when they’d been hit by a sweltering heat wave. She crossed her arms over her chest, tucking her hands out of sight. “Yeah. Fine.”

  “Why are you here? Not that you’re not welcome, of course,” he hurried to add. “I just mean that it’s unexpected.”

  She stared at the walls, the carpet—anywhere but at him. “I was told I could find you here. Miss Mabel said I’d need to get your permission.”

  “For what?”

  “It’s probably a bad time. You’ve got a lot on your mind, I’m sure. I’ll just go.”

  “No, please. I could use a bit of a distraction. Go ahead.”

  She pulled in a deep breath like she was about to jump off a high dive. “I want to work with the kids—teach a class.”


  Lyka was a Slayer, held here to ensure her brother Andreas maintained the truce between his people and Joseph’s. In return, Joseph had sent one of his own people, and there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t wonder how Carmen was doing. The few reports he got via e-mail were sent from one of Andreas’s men. Joseph never got to speak directly to Carmen, just as Lyka was never allowed to speak with her family. It was the only way to prevent suspicion of her being sent here as a spy.

  The idea that Lyka was starting to fit in here unknotted a tension right between his shoulder blades. He hated thinking that she suffered, that she was lonely. Her wanting to lend a hand was a good sign.

  “Sure,” he said, hoping he sounded happy about the idea without giving too much away. Lyka was prickly, and he worried that if she thought she was making him happy, she’d stop. Even if she suffered because of the decision. “You’ll have to be supervised. You understand.”

  “I understand I’m your enemy. You don’t want me brainwashing your kids or luring them to my suite so I can toss them in my oven for dinner.”

  That ridiculous image pulled a smile from somewhere deep down. “We’re not enemies anymore, remember?”

  She lifted her shoulders in a shrug, but it only emphasized how vulnerable she was here. She hadn’t let any of the Sentinels get close to her. She played with the kids when she thought he wasn’t looking, but truth be known, whenever Lyka was around, Joseph was always looking. He couldn’t help himself.

  “So, do I have your permission?”

  He nodded. “Pick one of the teachers to supervise. Come by my office later and let me know who you chose.”

  She frowned as if confused. “That easy?”

  “What did you expect? Some kind of torture session?”

  She stared at him for a long time, her pale yellow eyes fixed on his face. “I never know what to expect in this place.”