“Damn close.” Layla breathed, astounded by the Fallen Ephilohim’s deductive logic, as usual. “Pretty spot-on, actually.”
“Interesting.” Heathren sipped his tea, reading her only with his eyes now rather than his magic, though those were intense enough. “And why is that my emergency?”
“I mean, it’s Hunter.” Layla frowned now, confused at his nearly blasé attitude. “Don’t you want to know everything about him, in order to bring him in?”
“Yes.” Heathren nodded, though his silver-white gaze was still piercing upon her. “But I gave Adrian that cube for emergencies only. And now you are here in my private residence on my off-work time from my Intercessoria duties insinuating by your arrival that this was such a deep emergency that it merited you coming to me directly, at once. So why the emergency?”
“Because this evening, when my Bind-mates and I had—” Layla hesitated, not knowing how to say it.
“An orgy.” Heathren spoke as plainly as Reginald might have done. “Yes, I can smell it all over you, and I read it in your energy just now. Go on.”
“Hunter… pushed himself through the ether to give me a vision of himself. At the height of it. Physically in the place of someone I was…” Layla trailed off, trying to avoid the deeper details with Heathren, who still unnerved her.
“Someone you were having sex with.” Slowly, Heathren put down his cup, watching her with his intense silver eyes. Something about the Fallen Ephilohim’s presence intensified, as if his now-invisible wings had manifested a thousand razor-sharp knives. “He’s using your new awareness to push through the ether to be with you, physically. And this is a very deep change from his previous patterns. Before, he simply came to you in person, albeit disguised, to try and sway you to his side of things. But now, he’s contacting you with finesse. Like a lover. In a way that is etheric but feels… very real.”
“Very.” Layla nodded, blowing out a breath as her drakaina suddenly stirred, thinking about how Hunter had come to her earlier. It was a deep heat, and Layla rocked in her chair, having forgotten how impossibly sexual her drakaina’s eros felt, though she was reminded of it now.
Heathren’s pale eyes sharpened on her quite a lot now. Opening his lips, he scented the air. “Your Dragon stirs to thoughts of Hunter. She wishes to have him as a mate, just as much as he is now showing how much he desires you. And I’m guessing this is a very deep secret you do not wish the rest of your Bound mates to know. Ever.”
“Ever.” Layla spoke softly, though her body gave a deliciously erotic shiver as she felt an echo of Hunter’s hands upon her – and his body buried deep inside hers.
“So you wish to figure out how to use etheric magic,” Heathren continued as he watched her alertly, “while your Dragon is still unavailable. You wish to learn to do as Hunter does and figure out how to manipulate ether; to dream-send and vision-contact and create portals at will. And to stop his sendings. You come to me because you need a teacher who knows how to do these things from a Dragon’s perspective… either an angelic who still lives in the Ascended Realms, or a Royal Dragon Bind who has learned to manipulate ether like Hunter has.”
“Right on all counts.” Layla breathed, some part of her immensely impressed at the depth of Heathren’s deductive logic. He was like some kind of angelic Sherlock Holmes – five steps ahead of her and haughty all the way.
“And so you come to me.” Swirling his tea thoughtfully, Heathren suddenly put it down on the tiled counter as he regarded her. “I know of Royal Dragon Binds in hiding that understand how to manipulate ether, but it is beyond my power to put you through to them. However, as an Archangelic, I could teach you etheric magic myself, as I am a master of it. But to learn such things necessitates a deep bond of trust between teacher and student – trust you and I do not share.”
“What about Rake André?” Layla asked, frowning now that Heathren had withheld information on other Binds from her, though that was a topic she intended to address. “Could he teach me?”
“Rake André uses his breath as a crutch to access the ether; all Deathkeepers do.” Heathren spoke with a scathing eyebrow lift. “To truly manipulate the ether requires the teaching of an angelic who is not so removed from the Ascended Realms by countless generations of bad habits. I am only a second-generation Fallen Ephilohim. My father Vladimir Merkami was generated in theSattic Vir, the Twelfth Realm, only one step distant from the ether itself.”
“Your father Dracula – Vlad the Impaler – was born an Archangel in the Ascended Realms?” Layla blinked incredulously.
“Like the human stories of Lucifer,” Heathren spoke with a dire glint in his eyes now, “my father precipitated down to theSevne Vir, the Twilight Realm, to have a mortal experience. Why do you think the legends of Dracula are so brutal, Layla? Because my father got stuck here, drowning in terrible emotions he’d not possessed in his etheric state. I am his only progeny, and was born understanding how to manipulate ether almost as easily as he. I can teach it from any perspective – Mermaid, Faunus, Dragon, etcetera. But it is prohibited for me to do so outside the Intercessoria. So tell me. Why should I go behind the Intercessoria’s back to help you? You may speak freely; I have intensive wards here to prevent Intercessoria eavesdropping, or any other ears for that matter.”
“Because if you teach me etheric magic, I’ll find Hunter for you.” Layla spoke with no bullshit, knowing the bait that would hook the haughty Ephilohim.
“Fascinating.” Though Heathren’s comment was breezy, his demeanor was not – now trained upon her so sharply it felt like a million silver swords. “Hunter has proved quite elusive, manifesting his little pocket-realmsde novolike he does. I have picked up his vibrational trail many times in the past centuries, particularly since he’s been so focused hunting you now. And yet… I do not have a personal connection to him. Hunter does not call me with his energy, and so I cannot dial him back, so to speak. You, however, do. And with the intensity with which he contacts you now… I do believe you might be able to trace his whereabouts. And pay him a little visit – if you had the proper training in etheric magic.”
“So will you train me?” Layla pressed, wondering what it would take.
“Patience.” Heathren spoke as he poured himself more tea, though his pale eyes never left hers. “We still have the problem that you do not trust me, Layla Price. Without trust, training in etheric magic goes nowhere. It was because you trust Rake André that he was able to initiate you to it this far.”
“So where does that leave me?” Layla sighed, feeling like she’d hit another dead-end.
“It leaves you… learning how to trust.” Heathren spoke with a clever brightness in his eyes now. “Can you?”
“Learn how to trust?” Layla asked, Heathren’s words strangely precise in how they echoed Adrian and Dusk’s earlier. “I’ve never specifically tried to learn such a thing before. It sort of just comes, doesn’t it?”
“True, between most people, trust is earned.” Heathren nodded, watching her with that clever glint still in his eyes. “But any skill is strengthened by repetition, Layla Price. Trust is a perspective about the universe which can be strengthened through practice. Trust grows between two people by shared hardships. But trust strengthens with the universe byallowing it to hold you, and allowing your guide to hold you also, as you did with Rake André.”
“So what?” Layla sassed, feeling tired now. “I’m supposed to just do trust-falls with the universe in order to get to know the ether?”
“That’s exactly what you have to do.” Heathren spoke quietly, his gaze very direct now. “And also with the teacher you choose to guide you there. Boundaries break down when you study the ether, Layla – all boundaries, every boundary. You mustbecomeether to learn how to manipulate it. And to do that… you have to give up everything you are, every boundary you have, and become something new. I could take you there. But you’d have to open your heart and trust me to guide you through a boundless state. You would become me; I would become you. Only then could I take you through the dance of moving the ether to your will.”
“Sounds erotic.” Layla spoke, feeling suddenly breathless in the Fallen Ephilohim’s presence as he described etheric magic.
“It is. Exceedingly.” Heathren lifted a dark eyebrow over his raised cup. “In the arms of the angel, fly away from here. From this dark, cold hotel room and the endlessness that you fear.”
