Crest (Ondine Quartet Book 3) (10 page)

Four bodies lay twisted on the floor. It was impossible to tell what color blood pooled beneath them. But given the neck injuries, they appeared Aquidae.

The light shifted to a brighter white and my stomach lurched.

Four chevaliers, crimson blood leaking from multiple gashes.

"The heart of drama resides in conflict. Everything has finally lined up. This is your story, Kendra. What will you give up to achieve what you want?"

"You should know what my answer is."

I'd already accepted and paid for the cost of my fate.

"No, I don't." He swiveled his chair around and tilted his head, eyes wide with curiosity. "Will the
sondaleur
give up the life of one to save all? Or will she give up everything she's spent her life working toward to save someone she cares about?"

I stilled. "Is that a threat?"

"I'm simply presenting options. The choice is yours." He lifted his hands. "You may find out what I know about the Shadow. Or you may find out how to protect your loved ones."

Sweat lined my palms. I gripped my dagger tight to keep my arm from trembling.

"There is no choice. When I'm through with you, you'll tell me everything."

"So you think you can have it all. That means you haven't learned your lesson yet." He shook his head sadly. "You can't have what others have."

A painful flood of memories roared to life.

My mother used to say that.
 

Whenever I tried to take something for me, something outside of war and training, she'd express her disappointment by bashing into my head all the reasons I couldn't.

That's not for you, Kendra. You can't have what they have.

I froze, impotent and paralyzed, suddenly caught in the grip of the past.

The door burst open.

The Lieutenant leaped and yanked me against his chest. Pain rocketed up my arms and dagger clattered uselessly to the floor.

Tristan's overwhelming presence filled the room. "Let her go."

Forearm clamped over my neck and his other arm locked around my torso in a vise-like grip. Pressure ground against my throat.

If I pulled, he'd snap my spine.

"Is she important to you, Warrior Prince?" he said, voice coy. "As important as Eric?"

Tristan's face looked carved out of stone. Realization made my chest tighten.

Oh, God.

"Your brother fought valiantly, Prince Belicoux," he continued. "You should've seen how much he struggled before I turned him. Such delightful resistance."

He said the last words with particular relish.

Tristan had hunted and killed his brother in New York. No wonder he hated the city.

Simmering fury boiled over. Once I got what I needed, I'd make this fucker pay for what he'd done.

Ice settled over Tristan's face. I'd seen him in battle, when the royal mask of diplomacy and compassion faded and the power that lay at his core shone through.

But right now his face was that of the Warrior Prince who inspired fear and fueled the whispers of his reputation. Something unchained and merciless glittered in his dark eyes.

"I promised to find you." Lethal menace imbued every word. "That one day you'd look into my eyes and see the justice that awaits you."

A shiver raced down my spine.

"And after seventeen years of waiting, here you finally are." The Lieutenant laughed, the sound slicing my eardrums. "Yes, yes. This is so much more interesting than I thought it'd be."

Eager excitement threaded his voice. Nausea swelled. He was turned on.

"You know what I want," Tristan said.

"Yes and I'll offer you a choice, Warrior Prince. You may either have me and all the information you seek." His finger brushed the curve of my jaw. "Or you may have the
sondaleur
back alive."

A slight give in his position. A little more and I could get my leg free.

"Will it be this war you detest so deeply, the war that consumes the lives of your people? The answers you have waited so long for?"

The tiniest movement was all I needed.

Come on.

"Or will it be this ondine? The one prophesied to end the war for you?"

Just a little more
.

Tristan's voice was so calm. "I choose the
sondaleur
."

The Lieutenant shifted his weight to the left.

Right foot snapped back.

He wobbled, freeing my arms. I escaped his neck grip and pitched forward. In one fluid motion, Tristan pulled me behind him.

The Lieutenant tumbled onto the control panel. "Your choice."

Golden light blazed.

"No!"

Black blood's stench tainted the air, the thick fluid seeping between knobs and sliders and dripping onto the floor.

The Lieutenant wore a wide grin, eyes bright with insanity. Cai's missing
kouperet
impaled his Origin scar.

I couldn't believe it. He'd staked himself.

Furious, I kicked the table and a pile of DVDs crashed to the ground.

I swore and whipped around. "I could've handled him! What were you thinking?"

Part of the anger came from the sheer disbelief and frustration that we'd been screwed out of answers again.

It was also much more than that.

He'd given up his opportunity to confront the person responsible for his torment. The demon who'd turned his brother and set off a chain of events redefining his life.

Tristan ignored my question and walked over to a small closet beside the control panel.

"Someone else is here." His voice was flat. Only cool command and focus.

He opened the door and her body fell out. Blonde hair swept up in an attractive updo, a look of surprise in her lifeless eyes. Rebecca.

Another avenue permanently closed.

Tristan continued going through the rest of the control room, every movement composed and in control.

No words, no expression, nothing to indicate he'd finally faced the monster of his nightmares. It was as if something had shut down inside him.

Another wave of anger rushed through me. Over the weight of memories he had to bear. That I couldn't be as calm and emotionless as him.

I wished he trusted me enough to let something through. That made me angriest of all.
 

I turned on the theater lights. The battle had wound to a close. Dozens of bodies lay broken and bleeding across the seats, aisles, and on stage. Limping chevaliers and gardinels slowly made their way through the carnage.

I took a deep, steadying breath. "We got nothing."

No info on the Shadow. Not even the artifacts we'd tracked down.

"The Manhattan Lieutenant is gone. That's a big something."

"Yeah, well." I strode to the door. We hadn't even killed him ourselves. "Explain that to the families of those dead down there."

They'd come in here for a retrieval mission. Instead, I'd led them straight into an ambush.

I headed back downstairs, the dark stain of frustration blooming in the pit of my stomach.
 

The Shadow orchestrated every interaction. Even the Lieutenant's dramatic death scene had been planned and wrenched out of our control.

Julian's stormy eyes briefly met mine. One month of investigation for nothing.

We'd gone big and come up empty. He was just as pissed off as me.

Tristan returned to the theater. Instead of helping him clean-up, I headed backstage to search for anything we might've missed.

Large set pieces, racks of glittering costumes, and boxes of props lined the corridors. Overly harsh ceiling lights cast everything in a garish glow.

Three dressing rooms and a bathroom only yielded a few hair pieces and forgotten make-up left from previous performances.

I rounded the corner into the final storage area.

Covered by a coarse, ugly material, the large square object rested between a grand piano and four large timpani.

A perfect deep blue iris lay on the floor in front of it.

Heart rate picked up. Dagger ready, Empath engaged.

Nothing.

Skin prickled. I approached slowly and yanked.

The heavy canvas fell away revealing a framed oil painting of a female.

Me.

Shirt ripped, blade glimmering in the dark. I stood, feet apart, eyes closed in an industrial basement.

Shadows coiled around me, ominous and threatening.

On the right corner, an ivory notecard was tucked under the frame.

Trembling hands removed the elegant paper and unfolded it.

Title: Sondaleur in Lyondale

Artist: ?

Hide and seek. You lose.

A knot of dread twisted in the pit of my stomach.

Edmundo said the Shadow was everywhere and nowhere, the ultimate puppet-master tugging the strings of this war. An evil so ancient, he existed as a corrupted presence in the black blood of every Aquidae.

The more I gave chase, the more he slipped into the darkness. He knew everything about me and I knew nothing about him.

How did you find someone who only showed what he wanted you to see?

Note crumpled in my fist. I stared at my painted figure, at the taunt represented in every brush stroke.

I'm coming for you.

Lieutenant. Traitor. Shadow.

One down. Two to go.

***

Desert wind swirled, hot air raking against my skin and stirring sand across the curved land.

I perched on a swing and waited.

Something white glimmered in the distance, the mirage of a tower against a sky the color of the ocean.

He walked to me, more solid, more real than the last time.

"I knew you'd come," I said simply.

The knowledge sang in my heart, a security only he could provide.

"You didn't find it."

"I don't know what to find."

He pushed. Air brushed against my legs and I soared.

I closed my eyes, searching for it.

Yes, there. There it was.

At the very top of the arc, just before gravity pulled me back.

That one millisecond of sheer freedom.

Legs swung, each arc taking me up higher, closer to the sky until I could almost touch the clouds.

"It is ours," he whispered.

All I knew was that this sky, this heat, and the mirage that fooled all came from us.

THE UNIVERSE DECIDED IT WASN'T done laughing.

Scowling, I glanced across the aisle.

Renee gave a wide smile and wiggled her fingers. Helene thankfully had her camera trained on the view outside her window.

Catrin was visiting Haverleau for a few days before flying on to the Selkie Kingdom. Unfortunately, she'd brought her daughters along.

My month with them had now extended to another.

Renee's attitude was markedly different from the beginning of the flight. She'd waited until the last possible minute, eyes anxiously scanning the private airfield as if expecting someone to show up.

When she finally boarded, hurt glinted in her face and she'd spent the first hour unusually quiet. I suspected she'd been waiting for Oriel, but couldn't figure out why it was such a big deal. Maybe they'd had a fight.

Eyes drifted toward the front of our private plane. Catrin relaxed in her seat, a sleeping mask over her eyes. Fujio and Urian sat across from her, heads lowered in conversation.

Julian's dark head was bent, attention absorbed in another book. We hadn't spoken since the incident at the DuBois building last night.

But the energy crackling around him when we left the brownstone this morning indicated how angry he still was.

I was, too.

In fact, the anger and adrenaline had led to a night of fitful sleep and strange, hazy dreams.

"New York was good for you." Tristan slipped into the seat beside me.

"Yeah. I think it was."

The admission felt a little strange. No one ever asked if something was good for me. My life was usually filled with things I had to do, which meant there wasn't much enjoyment in it.
 

I asked the question reflected in his eyes. "Did you think I wouldn't return?"

He shook his head. "I always knew you would."

"Catrin did a lot."

She'd guided me through countless sessions on politics, laws, and Redavi society. Chasing Aquidae, exploring the city, and drinking in cultural nourishment with Julian also helped.

I understood Julian's desire to stay. But part of the test was experiencing it and still choosing to return.

"I heard the Bach suites live in concert."

Eyes brightened with delight. "Was it better than listening to a recording?"

"It was more...real."

In the hushed hall, silence amplified rather than muted the experience. Each note rang like a separate word, speaking to me of beauty and horror, loss and life.

It'd been personal, a kind of intimate solitude I thought I only experienced in my room at nights. Instead, I'd found it in a concert hall full of listeners also searching for something to hold on to.

The air between us shifted.

We were both thinking of the time he gave it to me, just before he left for six months. I never asked what he did while he was gone.

And asking him now felt uncomfortable because I didn't know what we were.

Friends? Allies? Warriors? Acquaintances who knew what kissing the other felt like?

I choose the sondaleur.

He hadn't chosen Kendra. We couldn't choose each other.

As soon as that thought came, it was easy to slip back into professional boundaries.

"Is everything ready for the Elemental conference?"

Last week, Catrin informed me it'd been moved ahead by two months.

The growing uncertainty over elemental leadership and the current string of Redavi murders contributed to the date change.

"As much as they can be," he replied. "I preferred it a month or two later because the weather would be more suitable. But everything worked out. Headmaster Pelletier moved the Academy's spring break up two weeks and we found a workaround to the weather problem."