“What will happen to the Phoenix?” Layla asked, feeling tired and sad.
“They’re restructuring,” Dusk spoke softly, petting her curls back again. “There will be a lot of dominance-battles in the near future, to decide who will be the next King or Queen. Arini was their lead for over two thousand years. He was a force of nature, and rarely challenged.”
“Except Hunter was stronger than Arini.”
“He was.” Dusk lapsed into silence as he held Layla, the both of them breathing quietly in the mid-afternoon. Beyond the vaulted windows, snow skirled down in lazy drifts, brightening the world to soft hues. But all Layla could think about were Hunter’s enormous fangs crunching down on Arini’s neck.
“He’s a Desert Dragon.”
“What?” Dusk glanced down at her.
“Hunter. He fought King Arini as a black Desert Dragon, his own ancient Lineage.” Layla looked up at Dusk. “Something happened between us, Dusk, some kind of resonance. Hunter showed me his memories, and I tapped into them so deeply that it rebounded on him, I think. He told me he didn’t recall his human form. But he saw it when our magics interacted. And it triggered his shift. I don’t think he meant to shift, he just wanted to talk with me. But it seemed like he went mad… smashing his head against the walls of the tower as if regaining the memory of himself was too painful to bear.”
“Maybe it was.” Dusk spoke softly. Layla could practically hear the wheels churning in his mind. “Maybe being so many people over the years was easier than recalling his own visage; facing himself. Facing what he’d done. Did he tell you why he’s been hunting you Layla, and Adrian and I?”
“He thinks my magic comes from some god,” Layla spoke softly. “He thinks I’m the culmination of a bloodline descended from his ancient enemy, a woman named Nadia and an Otherworld Being she mated with to screw him. Hunter was stalking you and Arini and Adrian, messing with you all because you three have traces of that bloodline, same as me, and he was trying to trigger that magic in you. But when I was born, Hunter felt me in a different way than the rest of you. He thinks I have some foretold ability to restore the one thing most precious to him that he’s lost.”
“His sanity?” Dusk snarked softly, though he was listening.
“His beloved, a man named Nimir.” Layla continued. “A Desert Dragon from his tribe that he Bound in his youth but then killed in a case of mistaken identity. Hunter’s been at war with Nadia, the third of their Bound triumvirate, ever since. I think he believes that if their lost lover is resurrected… that he’ll get the love back that he lost. All three of them – together again.”
Dusk whistled low. He snugged Layla closer, sliding a hand over her hip beneath the covers. “Hunter went insane when his Bound trio was fractured? And he really believes you can what, bring his lover back from the dead?”
“I think he and Nadia both went insane when their third died.” Layla breathed. “Maybe they never came back from it. In any case, Hunter truly believes I can perform some Jesus-like maneuver, Dusk. You should have seen the belief in his eyes. It was scary. Like, Waco Texas scary.”
“Well if losing one third of his Bound triumvirate drove him insane… let’s try to keep you and Adrian and I alive then, shall we?” But though his comment was glib, Layla heard the truth in it. She felt Dusk’s deep fear – that if their trio of power was ever fractured, it would drive the surviving two mad.
“Let’s.” Layla murmured as she recalled her vivid image of their blood on her hands – the entire concept too horrible to even think about.
Just then, her apartment doors opened. In strode the two people Layla least wanted to see, but who had saved her life – the Ephilohim Judiciaries. Moving to the bed with his lithe, smooth walk, Heathren Merkami reached out, touching his knuckles to Layla’s cheek. He was warm and Layla felt the sensation of seven-layered wings rise up in his aura as he closed his pale silver eyes, inhaling deep. When he opened them, a smile crossed his lips.
“You’re healing well. Another few days of soreness, but it will pass. We’d like to interview you now about the things you saw and heard during your travels, before anything fades. Starting from the moment you metTempeste Durant. Do you feel well enough? We can remain here in your chambers and the Head Concierge may stay present to bolster you – this briefing concerns him and the Hotel’s welfare also.”
Though it was the last thing Layla wanted to do, recounting all the horrors that had happened from Hunter’s scheming, the sooner she told the Intercessoria, the sooner they could get Adrian back. Pushing up against the pillows with Dusk’s support and tucking the duvet around her nakedness so nothing showed, Layla eyeballed Heathren. “And I have your word that if I give this testimony, you’ll release Adrian? No tricks?”
“I give you my word.” Heathren Merkami spoke quietly, his pale silver gaze piercing. “Adrian Rhakvir shall be returned to you immediately upon completion of your testimony. If you learn anything about me from our dealings together, Ms. Price, learn this: the word of Heathren Merkami is feared in the Twilight Realm, because Ialwayskeep it.”
Layla watched him, thinking back on the story Hunter had told her about Heathren’s origins. Seeing the Fallen Ephilohim now, so regal and deadly before her, Layla suddenly wondered if Hunter’s tales had been true. “Just tell me one thing. Are you the firstborn son of Vladimir Merkami, who was called Dracula? Is it true Dracula was actually a Fallen Ephilohim?”
“I was Vladimir Merkami’sonlyson, and my father is dead by my hand.” Heathren’s pale eyes sank into her soul, a sensation of righteous viciousness seething off him as his eyes glittered, dangerous. “I promised him I would bring him down, and so I did. No Vampire was ever as ruthless as my Fallen Ephilohim father the Impaler. And no Ephilohim will ever be allowed to go mad like that ever again – not while I am watching. Now. May we begin?”
Layla nodded, satisfied that Hunter had at least told her some truths in his tales. The proof was standing before her, austere in his black Judiciary leathers and silver weapons. But how far Hunter’s truths went was still a question. Taking up a glass of water from her bedside table, Layla drank as Heathren Merkami liberated a small white cube from an inner pocket of his leathers. Gold script scrolled across it as he set it on the bedside table, pulling up a chair with Insinio Brandfort taking up a standing posture behind him. Dusk had risen from the bed naked as a jaybird, moving to Layla’s closet to fetch her cobalt silk robe and get himself some sleep-pants. Returning to the bed, he helped her into the robe as the Juds turned away briefly, and once Layla was settled and clothed, she began.
Layla briefed the Juds on everything she had experienced during her trip to Manarola. Over the next hours, they asked questions, circling back often to note precise details of how Hunter had behaved as Tempeste Durant. Heathren Merkami wanted to know the things Hunter had told her, the evidence he’d used to confirm his identity as Tempeste and also his history as Hunter. Insinio spoke up in his big, booming voice, asking numerous times about how it felt when Layla’s magic had resonated with Hunter’s memories, what Hunter had looked like in Dragon-form, and any special powers she may have noticed.
Through it all, Dusk sat with her, bringing her food and water and coffee, stroking her back and pouring his bolstering vibrations through her. Layla learned about the real Tempeste Durant, and that he’d been almost exactly as Hunter had impersonated him; an Intercessoria family man with a moderately cruel sense of humor, devoted to his loved ones and doting on his youngest brother Reginald. When Tempeste had been killed on duty five years ago, his knife-rig, wallet, and Intercessoria briefcase had all disappeared. Those items had actually been Tempeste’s and Hunter had stolen them, using them to further his impersonation to a frighteningly accurate degree.
As the conversation turned to Hunter’s memories, Dusk asked clarifying questions about the god-infused Dragon Lineage Hunter was tracking and his belief that Layla was the person who could re-unite him with the dead third of his broken Bind. Heathren and Insinio had frowned at that, sharing a glance Layla didn’t understand and was too tired to ask about. Layla had also recounted her vision of blood on her hands after Hunter’s battle with Nadia, and how it had layered Hunter’s lovers with Dusk and Adrian.
Dusk had scowled deeply at that, a hard wash of refraction flashing through his hair.
But at the end of it, Heathren Merkami was as good as his word. The moment they wrapped up conversation after nearly six hours, he put the white-gold cube away in his leathers. Taking out a vial of golden dust, he stuck one of his silver boot-knives in the vial, then stepped from the bed to trace a circle on the floor. Layla watched him, seeing the dust solidify into the same golden perimeter she had traveled through during the murder investigation. Heathren stood inside it and spread his seven-layered aura, though Layla saw no actual wings sprout from his back like she’d seen on the boat. Murmuring something, he stepped out, then snapped his fingers – and Adrian was suddenly shunted through in a pop and whirl of magic.
Adrian stumbled to his knees as he arrived. Disheveled and weak, he was still wearing his shirt, vest, and pants from the Owner’s party, though the shirt was deeply stained with sweat, the collar stained with dried blood. Barefoot with a five-day stubble, Adrian’s breath heaved as if he’d just been released from some sort of magical or physical trial. His entire body trembled, his face drawn and his lips parched as if he’d had no food or water for days.
As he came through, he shuddered and began to fall down to his face. Dusk rushed to him and hauled him up under one arm before he could collapse to the floor, and Layla saw numerous bite-marks like fangs over both sides of Adrian’s neck, the origin of the blood on his collar. Red blisters and raw, chafed areas ringed his wrists – manacle marks, with more deeply-bruised bites on his inner wrists, even through the coiling red dragon-tattoo on his left forearm.
With a cry of indignation, Layla struggled up from the bed. Though every bone in her body screamed, she rushed to Adrian. Supported by Dusk and still on his knees, Adrian could barely keep his eyes open. But his gaze went a beautiful Mediterranean-gold when he saw Layla, and as she fell to her knees before him, they embraced – kissing tenderly right in front of everyone.
