Another bad idea occurred to Erik, tiptoeing velvet-shod through his head.Islington was a smallish city, yes—but he and Jake hadn’t come across any potentials before Liv Stellack.Not a single one, on endless nights of patrol.
Ten years was a long time for mortal treachery to ripen, but the Mad God was immortal and his Sons, unless they met a horrifically violent end in battle, shared a measure of that longevity.
Dakshi was still eyeing him.“Can we at least consider another full trio for her?If she won’t choose, why can’t we just nominate?”
“It’s an excellent idea,” Robert weighed in.“She’s uncomfortable with her own power, but everyliraibegins so.More amplifiers, more force, but…”
“But she’s safer that way,” Erik said heavily, and knew he wasn’t just agreeing to selecting another trio.They were deferring to his primacy because he’d found her first and known her longest, but that wouldn’t last forever.
Especially if one of the others caught her eye.Lonely and vulnerable, in freefall with normality snatched from underfoot, thrust into high-danger situations, Liv would naturally look for some comfort.
It would be… easy, to take advantage.He could even tell himself it was the right, the safest thing to do.
Yet the tiny voice of his conscience, the only part of his mental landscape the Mad God hadn’t managed to crack, was still speaking loud and clear.
Would it be better if that particular whisper stopped?Or worse?
“That is the goal,” Robert said.“Our overarching, our only goal.”
Dakshi’s dark eyes hooded, sleepy and thoughtful.“I thought it was fightinghim.”
“Try doing that without the Dreamers.”Erik tipped his head, rested the back of his skull against the door, baffling-sorcery tingling pleasantly on his slowly relaxing shoulders.
Once a man decided, all that remained was to perform.
Erik found, with some relief, that he was still going to stick with his conscience, come what may.
* * *
Her scream ended on a throat-cut gurgle; if there was anything that put a cold knife in his guts, it was the thought that something had breached this temple too, slithered through a window, and found its way to her.
The bedroom was dark except for a soft edge of pale gold from the bathroom nightlight, and he ripped aside navy velvet curtains as Dakshi headed for the window, guns drawn.Robert, his sword a glimmering bar, halted near the door, ready to move in any direction.
Liv fought—clawing, kicking, biting—and managed to elbow him on the cheek before he could pin her, grab her wrists, and immobilize her slight frame.The resident chefs apparently couldn’t tempt her with haute cuisine, and she’d lost yet more weight since arrival.A bad sign, and this was another one.
Every night, in the dim dead reaches of deep darkness, the nightmares came.
By the time he wrestled her into stillness she was awake, tears slicking her cheeks and ribs heaving with deep, hopeless moans.She shuddered like a trapped animal, and he heard his own voice, soft and soothing—or as soothing as a growl from a Son could be.
“Shhh, beautiful.It’s all right, I’m here.We’rehere.It’s a nightmare, just a bad dream.”
Liv went limp.He gathered her up, glanced at the window.Dakshi’s guns were gone; he was reinforcing the invisible shimmer of sorcerous protection on glass, metal, and stone.Soft orange snowlight feathered his hair, the ground reflecting a city’s electric stain; his back was wide open, exposed to the room while he concentrated.
It was an unintentional compliment.
Robert was still in the doorway, a sticklike figure with his signet giving a single harsh glitter, his sword dipping slightly as he decided, increment by increment, there was nothing to fight.
“The door,” she whimpered.“The fuckingdoor, my God, my God,make it stop!”
“It’s stopped.”Robert, with the snap of command that made a Father polishing the edge of both words.“It is done,lirai.”
Silk moved.She liked the pajamas; they’d arrived in a plain white box with a small, exquisitely painted card from Sara.Liraiknew what others of their kind would need, it was axiomatic.Erik moved, getting his legs underneath him, and finally Liv settled against his chest, pushing a knifehilt out of the way so it didn’t dig into her cheek.He propped his back against the headboard, wishing he could get his boots off the bed, and stroked her hair—but didn’t loosen his grasp otherwise, just in case the fear returned.
She couldn’t hurt him, but she might do herself some damage.
Liv trembled, and Erik stroked her back with soft fingertips.Low, soothing nonsense slid past his lips—it’s over, it was just a dream, it’s fine, shhh, I’m here.
He should have saidwe’re here.He was part of a trio, he wasn’t sealed, and yet the words wouldn’t shift.“Just a dream,” he repeated.“It can’t hurt you.I’m here.”
