Shadow's End

FOUR

When Graydon strode into the alley, Bel thought she knew what to expect. She had been around Wyr many times, and she had seen several in flight before. On occasion, ancient memories of Dragos flying overhead in his Wyr form still gave her nightmares.

None of that prepared her for the sheer physical impact of watching Graydon’s human form flicker and change, to be replaced by an immense, majestic creature. With a panicked yowl, the two alley cats fled.

The gryphon standing in front of her melded eagle and lion together so seamlessly, she knew it was the most natural thing in the world, and yet it was so strange, she had to stare.

She had expected he would be large. She hadn’t realized he would be quite so huge. His gigantic lion’s body was heavy with powerful muscle, the feline shape both masculine and deadly. Immense bronze wings were folded tight against his back, the tips of the great feathers brushing against the brick wall at the end of the alley.

She glanced down at one of his paws. It was easily twice the size of a large serving platter. The hidden claws sheathed by that paw had to be as long as her hand.

Lost in wonder, her feet began to move of their own volition and drew her closer to him. His sleek eagle’s head bent, and he watched her with one immense golden eye. His beak had a deadly curve at the end, as sharp as a scimitar.

Even though his visage was naturally fierce, he seemed to be watching her with a mild, uncertain expression, almost as if he were . . . self-conscious?

For some reason, she thought of the indifferent cut of his waistcoat, and the arrangement of his cravat that had managed to achieve a state of adequacy. Again, she felt the urge to pat him.

Raising one hand, she hesitated. “Is it all right if I touch you?”

The gryphon nodded in silence.

Slowly, she let her hand trail along the sleek feathers that cloaked his neck. When she reached the area where the feathers turned to fur, she brushed the thick, tawny fur covering his powerful breastbone.

It was slightly damp from the light drizzle. Luxuriating in its richness, she sank her fingers into the fur until she touched his skin. His body threw off heat like a furnace.

“I wish I could see you in better lighting,” she told him. “Even here in the shadows, you’re one of the most beautiful creatures I’ve ever seen.”

The gryphon bent its head even further, until it very gently touched its beak to her shoulder. He could decapitate her with a single snap, yet it never occurred to her to be afraid.

Graydon’s deep, telepathic voice sounded in her head. Thank you. Do you think you’ll be able to climb onto my back?

He was helping her out of the pure goodness of his big, generous heart. She would not scorn such kindness by snorting.

Instead, she retreated several yards, gathered the skirt of her cloak and gown in one hand, and raced toward him. Even though his shoulders were the same height as her head, she gathered her body into a gracefully powerful leap.

As she settled into place just behind his neck, he chuckled. I expect you’re a talented rider, but I need to warn you, this won’t be the same as riding a horse. The beat of my wings has an entirely different rhythm than a horse’s gait. When I launch, I’ll do it from a standstill. Again, it won’t be anything like jumping a fence. You also might experience vertigo, as we’ll be high in the air. If you find you’re having trouble for any reason, be sure to tell me.

“I will.” Her promise came out breathless.

She was worried about Ferion, and very angry at him, and she felt as if she had come to her wit’s end in trying to figure out how to help him with his problem. Yet suddenly, in the midst of all that, she was more excited than she could remember being in a very long time.

And more than a little nervous too.

She thought she would be okay with flight. It seemed like something she might love desperately, but that was a created scenario in her head.

This was reality. For all she knew, she might be overcome with the vertigo he mentioned and not able to keep her seat. She gripped him tightly with her knees.

This was . . .

In a classic feline move she had seen before in hundreds of barn cats, the gryphon crouched, tail lashing. Then he leapt.

The surge of power between her legs was incredible. The world fell away.

He was too big, too heavy. He shouldn’t have been able to do it, but as he cleared the restriction of the alleyway, his massive wings snapped open and hammered down, once, twice, and then again. Each time, he lunged higher.

Almost before she realized it, they were soaring over rooftops, and oh my gods, the view of London from the air was utterly breathtaking.

The sharp wind caught at the edges of her cloak, and moody clouds wreathed the pale smile of a new moon. Sparks of lights lit the night-darkened city. Even from where they were, she could feel the concentration of Power emanating from Vauxhall.

Incredulous laughter spilled out. She realized she was shaking like a leaf and clamped down harder on him.

Are you all right? the gryphon asked.

“I’m absolutely splendid!” she shouted.

There was a smile in his mental voice. Not dizzy or nauseated?

“Not in the slightest!” Overcome with delight, she pointed then realized he couldn’t see her. “Look at the Thames. It looks like a huge shining ribbon, or maybe a snake. I wish we could see the stars. Graydon, this is glorious!”

He laughed gently and banked, and the entire panoramic landscape spun below her. I’m not sure of the exact address, but Malfeasance is somewhere on the street below. We’ll have to walk the length to find it.

Disappointment pulsed. Their flight had only just begun, and the experience was so joyous, she didn’t want it to end. “We can’t be there already.”

She had a sudden, passionate desire to forget about all her troubles and leave them behind.

To tell him to keep flying. Keep flying and never stop.

Traveling by flight is quite a bit faster than it would be if we had to contend with the traffic in the streets, he said. It’s also much more direct. Hold on.

His prosaic words grounded her back into her body. He wheeled in great circles, so that they descended at a slow, careful pace. She sensed he did so for her sake, not for his. She had seen how eagles could plummet when they were in search of prey, and how cats could pounce with breathtaking speed. He embodied the best qualities of both creatures.

After coasting a short distance, he landed behind a derelict, dark building, in another alleyway. Her legs shook so badly when she slid to the ground, she had to lean against him before she could stand on her own. He held steady, with no sign of impatience, until she moved away.

When she turned to face him, he had already shapeshifted back into a man. Without a word, he offered his arm to her again. After pulling the hood over her head once more, she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. Together, they stepped onto the street.

Bel had never explored this part of the city. She saw that she hadn’t missed much. An acrid stench came from piles of refuse, while prostitutes plied a busy trade and raucous laughter spilled from taverns. Street toughs watched passersby with sharp smiles and predatory eyes.

As she took in the scene from the fragile privacy within the cloak’s hood, she had a sudden, deep pang of longing for the fresh, clean air and green scents of her Wood. Her Wood was wild and sentient, and while it wasn’t always a safe place for strangers to wander, it was the child of her Power, her hearth and home.

She also noted how a few of the sharp, edgy men eyed her and Graydon. Their gazes lingered on Graydon’s height and bulk, and the men left them alone.

They were fools to only take Graydon into consideration. If she had come here alone, she could have handled them, but that might have indeed brought her unwanted attention, so she was glad she didn’t have to.

“There,” Graydon said suddenly.

The sound of his voice made her jump. This place gnawed at her nerves. “What?”

He inclined his head. She looked in the direction of his nod to a plain building that was in much better repair than its neighbors. A single letter M hung above a doorway that was guarded by two hulking Orcs.

She sighed. She hated Orcs.

“I don’t understand how he could stomach coming to such a place,” she muttered as they strode toward the building.

Graydon sounded as grim as she felt. “If he’s caught in the throes of a gambling addiction, then he may not have had much choice. This might be the only place that would run him a line of credit.”

A combination of anger and despair made her clench her teeth. As they grew closer to the building, she switched to telepathy. I don’t know how to help him, and I can’t keep bailing him out. Each time the debt grows higher and higher. Sooner or later, he’s going to come to his father’s attention.

If that happened, Calondir would react as he always did when he was confronted with a situation that made him angry. When he lost his temper, he could be verbally abusive. Sometimes he lashed out physically.

The thought caused her stomach to clench. Calondir never lashed out at her, not after she had threatened to cut off his hands and had left him. That had happened many years ago. For a very long time now, they had existed in two separate spheres emotionally, and they only came together to work on demesne issues.

Ferion was a different matter. Throughout his childhood, she had worked to protect him from his father, but now that he was an adult, she could no longer be present every time he met with Calondir. All she could do was try to keep Calondir from finding out.

You can’t make Ferion quit, Bel, Graydon told her gently. I’ve seen it with people who can’t stop drinking. Ferion is the only person who can make him quit. He has to hit bottom, whatever that might mean to him, and he has to choose at a fundamental level to change.

Her gaze dampened. She said, One step at a time. For tonight, I’ll just be glad to get him out of here.

The Orc guards watched but did nothing as they reached the door. When Graydon opened it, heat, light and noise poured out. Squaring her shoulders, Bel stepped inside and he followed.

In contrast to the air of general decay outside, the interior was decorated with plush carpets and paintings. A variety of scents assaulted her nose—liquors, a clash of perfumes, the grease from cooked meats, and unwashed bodies.

Smoke hung in the air, both tobacco and hashish. Music played somewhere, competing with shouts, loud conversation and coarse laughter.

The place was packed with both humans and those of the Elder Races. While some women were scattered throughout, the majority of the clientele was male.

Most stayed focused on the game they played, but several glanced at them curiously. In direct contrast to what had happened in the street, the males’ attention lingered on her cloaked, hooded figure.

Graydon moved so close, she could feel the brush of his muscular body at her side. His energy had grown darker and bristled with aggression.

The only way to get through this was, well, to get through it. Squaring her shoulders, she strode through the first room.

Soon, she was sweltering. The loud sights and sounds assaulted her senses, and the confinement of the heavy cloak became intensely uncomfortable.

She couldn’t seem to draw in a deep breath, and the thick, overly scented air caught at the back of her throat. Her heart pounded in hard, heavy slugs, and she longed to shove the hood away from her face.

Ferion wasn’t in the first room they searched. Nor was he in the second, or the third.

She picked up her pace, shouldering between people as her gaze darted everywhere. From time to time, Graydon’s muscled arm shot out to block someone from approaching her.

He’s not here. Distress flooded her. He’s not here.

Take a deep breath, Bel. Graydon put a hand on her shoulder in a solid, reassuring grip. He drew her to the nearest wall, shielding her from curious stares with his body.

With the fingers of one hand, she lifted the edge of her hood so that she could peer up at him. His rough face was grim, his eyes hard. He looked entirely different from the gentle, easygoing man she had seen earlier at the masque.

Ferion might not be here now, but he was recently, he told her. I can catch hints of his scent, even through the stink in this place. We need to check upstairs, and in the back rooms. He paused. Will you allow me to do that for you?

There was something about how he phrased the question, along with the expression in his eyes, that sent her back to their earlier conversation.

They had walked through all the public gaming rooms, but Malfeasance pandered to more than just the gambling vice. There were drugs here, and somewhere, there would be rooms for sex.

Graydon was trying to spare her, in case Ferion might still be here after all.

Within the span of a moment, her imagination ran riot. Images of Ferion drugged or naked crowded her mind.

Abruptly, she shoved them away and decided to let Graydon help her. If Ferion really was still here, she didn’t need to see her son in such a state.

She nodded. I would appreciate it if you would.

He hesitated, looking down at her. I don’t like to leave you here alone.

She touched his hand as it rested on her shoulder. Remember, I can take care of myself.

I’m quite sure you can, but I still don’t have to like it. His fingers tightened. The sooner I go, the sooner I can return. I’ll be as quick as I can.

Thank you.

She watched him leave. For such a massively built man, he was remarkably quick and light on his feet. His powerful frame was thick with muscle, yet his movements were as lithe and sinuous as the cat in his Wyr form.

As he disappeared, the atmosphere in the crowded room underwent an almost unidentifiable change. The room felt colder without his presence.

Repressing a shudder, she turned on her heel to scan the area. She took note of the number of males who began to watch her, some slyly, while others perused her with open assessment, even avid curiosity.

Opening herself partially to the psychic currents, she caught snatches of thought and intention. Some wondered why she kept her identity hidden. One or two took note of the unremarkable quality of her cloak and dismissed her as a potential mark. Others fantasized about the body her cloak hid.

A few contemplated rape.

She regarded them all coldly. If you wandered into my Wood, she thought, not a single one of you would escape alive.

One of the men approached her with an unsteady gait.

“Ooh, you looks like you might be a tasty bird underneaf all that,” he said. A strong scent of brandy washed over her. “’Ow much d’you charge for the night?”

She scanned him, but he wasn’t one of the would-be rapists. Dismissing him as innocuous, she pulled a gentle swath of Power between them.

An expression of confusion crossed his face, and his eyebrows drew together. He turned away, muttering to himself. After wandering along the edge of the room, he shouldered his way into a game of dice.

She sent a second glance over the room. Her small spell of misdirection had shaken off the attention of several of the others, but she hadn’t rid herself of all of them.

That was the problem with such spells. They worked on some people, but not everybody. Someone with a strong enough, determined mind could break through them.

She couldn’t stand and do nothing while she waited for Graydon to return. Focusing her attention on the games, she tried to imagine what Ferion might do.

Or at least what she thought Ferion might do. It was painful to admit that she was no longer quite sure.

She did know he favored games of both dice and cards. As she considered the various tables, she noticed the presence of several more armed Orcs standing at attention at regular intervals along the walls.

While she studied the Orcs, a well-dressed Vampyre male gave her a long assessing glance before he turned back to watching the tables.

He was so clearly not like any of the other males who were watching her, she opened her mind again to sense his intentions and got the impression of a cold, businesslike mind. The Vampyre wasn’t at Malfeasance to gamble. He was working.

Coming to a decision, she strode toward him. While he did not appear to notice her approach, he swiveled to face her as she grew near.

The Vampyre bowed. He was not a young one. He had some strength of presence and an aura of accomplished Power.

“My lady.” His smooth smile contained a hint of sharp tooth. “We are honored that you would grace us with your presence. Are you interested in joining a game? Perhaps a discreet one, in a private room.”

So much for trying to keep her identity a secret. Still, one person recognizing her was not the same level of disaster as it would be if the whole room had.

She told him telepathically, I am not here to play any of your games, but I would appreciate a few answers to some questions.

He cocked his head and switched to telepathy. Please, do tell me more. It would be my pleasure to service you in any way you desire.

His oily manner ran along the surface of her skin. Repressing a shudder, she snapped, Ferion Thalinil. He was here at some point in the recent past. Do you know where he is?

Ferion is your son, is he not? The Vampyre prowled close, eyes flickering with a predatory gleam. How heartwarming to see such familial concern. It speaks well of you, my lady.

Disliking his overly familiar attitude and how close he came, she held herself stiffly. She refused to let this creature see how he affected her. Have you seen him today? she persisted. Do you know where he might have gone?

The Vampyre inclined his head and assumed a mournful expression. My deepest regrets, but we at Malfeasance consider the privacy of our patrons to be one of our highest priorities. Whether or not the Elven heir mentioned where he might go upon taking his leave here is not for me to s—

The insincerity in his voice was as abrasive as his oily manner. Bel did not often feel the urge to violence, but as she considered him, she imagined taking his head in both hands and twisting it off his shoulders.

She interrupted. I’ll make it worth your while.

His dark gaze flickered, and the corners of his mouth indented as he repressed a satisfied smile. How might you do that?

Lifting the edge of the hood again with one hand, she met his gaze and said softly, I’ll let you live.

The Vampyre froze, and all hint of a smile vanished. Ma’am, he said, his attitude stripped of pretension. I’m not supposed to divulge that information. Please understand, this isn’t personal. My employer is—he’s not a man to be crossed.

After the traits he had exhibited, she had no pity for him.

It will be much worse for you to make an enemy of me, she said softly. I know your face. I will find out your name, and where you live. Whereas, if you tell me what I want to know, your employer need never know that the information came from you, or that I was even here. You have an opportunity right now to make an intelligent choice.

Breathing heavily, a sure telltale sign of stress in a Vampyre, he glanced sideways with just his eyes at the nearest Orc standing against the wall. Your son was invited to attend an exclusive game at my employer’s country estate. He left shortly after arriving here.

She felt another pang that Ferion would have chosen to leave without letting her know. What kind of grip did this need to gamble have on him?

Perhaps he had left a note at the house. Even as she thought it, she knew she was grasping at straws.

While the Vampyre did not mention his employer by name, she knew he meant Malfeasance’s owner, the pariah Djinn Malphas. A Djinn had no need of a physical residence, unless he chose to entertain creatures of other Races.

She asked, Where is this place?

I—I’ve never been to his country estate, personally. The Vampyre loosened his cravat with pale fingers. From listening to other patrons talk when they’d been issued an invitation, I do know that it’s a day’s ride out toward Wembley.

Wembley, she repeated, searching her memory of the geography of the outlying areas. That’s west.

Yes, my lady.

What else can you tell me of this estate’s location?

The patrons complained about one of the inns on the highway, close to the estate. They said the food was terrible and it took forever to get service for their horses. A touch of desperation entered his mental voice. Truly, that’s everything I know.

All he had offered were minuscule bits of information, but she could hear the sincerity in his voice. In a clench of despair, she turned away, just as a volcano of fury entered the room.

For a moment, she almost didn’t recognize the towering figure. While she stared, she heard everyone in the room take a collective breath as they moved away.

Only then did she realize it was Graydon who stalked toward her, his face pale and set while his Power boiled in a chaotic, hot corona around his clenched body.

She felt the blood leave her face and forgot to telepathize. “What is it?”

His white, taut lips barely moved. He said in a low voice, “He’s not here. We need to leave before I start murdering people.”

In the background, to his right, a couple of men slipped out a doorway. They were inconsequential. As soon as she saw them, she put them out of her mind. She took one of Graydon’s hands. It was bunched into a rigid fist. Even his skin was hot to the touch.

She could not imagine what had happened to fill him with such rage. As soon as she touched him, his hand loosened, and he curled his fingers around hers.

“Come on,” she whispered.

Together they strode for the front door. She noticed that the Orcs standing against the wall wouldn’t look at them any longer.

Once outside, she gratefully took deep breaths of the chill night air. Not even the whiff of stench from the street rubbish could dampen her relief at leaving the stifling smells inside Malfeasance.

Graydon strode down the street so fast, she had to trot to keep up. His anger was still palpable, and his expression so dark, she bit her lip and kept silent for several blocks, until they had left all the activity behind them and reached a quiet, dark section of street.

With immense relief, she shoved back the confining hood. A slight, cold breeze, still damp from the recent rain, brushed against her overheated cheeks.

“I’m going to burn that place to the ground.” His whisper was so forceful, it came out as a hiss. “I didn’t do it because you were there. I know how much you need to find your son, but I’m going back to level that building.”

“Dear gods,” she said. She stopped walking, which meant he had to let go of her hand, drag her along behind him, or stop walking too.

He stopped. As she gently tugged, he spun around to face her. He had clenched her fingers so tightly, they had gone numb, but she didn’t protest. Overhead, the cloud cover had broken, and a pale spray of stars arced across the clear night, silhouetting his tawny head.

Even though his rough features were in shadow, she still tried to search his expression as she asked, “What happened?”

He blew out a forceful breath and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. Then he rubbed his face as well. Through her palm, she could sense when the furious rigidity in his body eased.

“No,” he said. “I won’t saddle you with that information. I’m handling it.”

She rejected that, categorically. “How on earth could you be handling whatever is back there, when we just walked out? I should know what the cost of rescuing my son is. He should know what his actions cost.”

“That’s not fair or accurate.” He stepped closer. The heat from his body warmed her. “Ferion has nothing to do with this. I caught no hint of his scent throughout the rest of the place. It’s likely he has no idea what happens beyond the gaming rooms.”

Again, her imagination ran riot. She had seen the gambling for herself. What was left?

Drugs and sex. She thought of how several of the men had considered her figure. Even when there was virtually nothing for them to see, other than the fact that she was feminine, they had assessed the possibilities in what lay hidden underneath the cloak. How a few had contemplated rape.

A sudden wash of emotion brought tears to her eyes. She pointed back in the direction of Malfeasance. “Whatever is back there—you would stop it right now if it wasn’t for him, wouldn’t you?”

No, she thought. If it wasn’t for me.

This has nothing to do with Ferion. Graydon checked his behavior for me.

Slowly, his grip on her fingers loosened. He raised both hands to cup her jaw. His hands were so big, she felt completely nestled within the warmth of his hold.

“Beluviel, listen to me,” he said. His voice had gentled. “Normally I do a much better job with my temper. I shouldn’t have lost control like that, or said anything that I did.”

She gripped his thick, strong wrists. “Don’t apologize. Just explain.”

“You’ve done me a great honor by trusting me tonight.” He touched her lips with his callused thumbs, as if he would read her expression in the darkness by touch. “I want you to trust me a little further. Let me handle what I found at Malfeasance. Trust that I am handling it. And trust me when I also say this doesn’t need to concern you.”

He had said before that he was handling it. Whatever it was. What could he have possibly done to handle anything in the short amount of time he had left her alone?

But she trusted him. Didn’t she?

Poking at herself, she realized that, yes, she did trust him, substantially more than she had at the beginning of this gods awful evening, and even more than she had realized.

“You’ll tell me if I need to know?” she asked.

“I swear, I’ll tell you if you need to know,” he said. “But you don’t need to know. Stay focused on your son. This does not have to become your battle.”

She thought about that. Then she gave him a little nod. “Very well.”

He bent his head.

For a crazy, heart-stopping moment, she thought he might actually kiss her.

On the lips, no less.

If he did, it would turn this whole evening completely upside down.

As it turned out, he did kiss her, but not on the mouth. He pressed his lips to her forehead, almost as if he thought she might need comfort, which was stupid, of course, because nobody had offered her comfort in a donkey’s age.

People always came to Bel with their problems and expected her to fix them, and she did. Somehow, she always did, no matter how difficult the problem or how long it took.

The press of his mouth against her sensitive skin evoked the wildest upsurge of longing she had felt in a winter’s eternity. It mingled with the earlier yearning she had felt to fling herself against his chest, to pat his waistcoat, to nestle against the warm, friendly blaze of his aura.

Closing her eyes, she pretended to drift into his caress, as if she had every right to enjoy his touch and they had all the time in the world.

And every single part of that was wrong.

He murmured, “I’m so sorry we didn’t get any information about Ferion.”

His words jolted her back to reality.

Reluctantly, she pulled away, and his hands fell from her face. With the same kind of wildness that had gripped her several times already that evening, she missed his touch so desperately, she almost reached for him again, except she didn’t have the right.

She forced herself to be relevant. “We did get some information,” she said. “The Vampyre I was questioning when you showed up—he said that ‘his employer’ had invited Ferion to an exclusive game at a country estate, a day’s ride west of London toward Wembley. He claimed Ferion left right after he had arrived.”

“Did he, now?” Graydon said thoughtfully.

She chewed at her lip. “It’s not much to go on, but it will have to do. I didn’t think to ask how long ago that happened. Since Ferion didn’t attend the masque, I had assumed he arrived at Malfeasance sometime this evening, but that isn’t necessarily true. The only thing I know for sure is that I saw him at breakfast. If he went to Malfeasance directly afterward, he’s had almost a day to travel already. I don’t have a moment to lose.”

The gods only knew how much financial damage Ferion might do before she found him, let alone how much time she might be gone.

Her absence would be noted, and the chances that she could keep this from Calondir were growing terribly thin. Lianne and Alanna were in her confidence, but none of their other guards and retainers were.

“What do you mean?” Graydon asked.

“A carriage will take too much time,” she muttered. “I’ll need to travel by horseback, and take either Lianne or Alanna with me. The other one will fuss, but someone needs to stay behind and try to run interference.”

Big hands settled onto her shoulders, startling her out of her preoccupation. Graydon said, “I said, what do you mean, you don’t have a moment to lose?”

Looking up into his shadowed face, she said, “Thank you so much for what you’ve done. Can you possibly do me one more favor and take me to Grosvenor Square before we part for the night?”

His hands flexed, and for some reason, his body tightened again.

He said, “No.”