She wiped her eyes and straightened her spine. Her past had become as uncertain as her future. Time had become a crucible burning everything away. There could be no greater or profound crisis.
But this much she could know. In both versions of her past she had been born into poverty and taken as a slave. And in both versions she had reached for immortality and had become a Queen.
I didn’t change you, Rune had said. Not you, not your soul or spirit.
She finally understood what he meant.
“I know who I am again,” she whispered.
And I will take ownership of this new life as well, for however long I may have it.
? ? ?
Rune slung Carling’s bag on one shoulder, collected his duffle bag from the main house, and went down the bluff to wait for Carling on the beach. A briny breeze blew off the water. The cool wet air felt good on his tight, overheated skin. He stripped off his ruined T-shirt and dropped it on the ground by the bags and the waterproof container he’d left on the beach when he arrived. Then he rotated his shoulders to work out the tension that strung his muscles as tight as piano wire.
He felt antsy, just barely over the county line from the land of irrationality. He didn’t like being apart from her. Didn’t she realize how vulnerable she was when she went into a fade? The thought of her caught on a busy city street made him just about break into a sweat. She was one of the most dangerous of the Nightkind or of any of the Elder Races, but now at times she was also one of the most defenseless. It would be such a simple matter to slip a stiletto between her ribs as she stood still and unresisting, her mind locked in another time.
And if being in proximity to one of her episodes could affect him the way it did, who or what else might be affected by it? What other creatures or Powers might be able to slip into her mind or the past, or whatever the fuck was actually happening, to encounter that brave, fierce, painfully fragile tiger cub that was Carling’s child-self?
Do you not study the tools your enemies use? She had said it in passing, and that one question had hinted at a hidden vista of magical tensions and Power plays. He thought of the dark Powers she had talked about, those hungry forces that ate the souls of both victims and black magic practitioners alike. He pictured something coiling around the young Carling like black smoke, and then he did break into a sweat.
He also lost all interest in keeping his promise. As he turned to go search for her, he caught sight of Rhoswen coming down the bluff path. Rhoswen was dressed in a wet suit, her pale hair pinned back in the usual tight chignon, and she carried a bundle in her arms. She had a pair of diver’s swim fins, a dark waterproof bag, and Rasputin’s silent, motionless form. Her cold bitter gaze raked down the length of his body and ran over the bags on the ground, and paused on Carling’s worn leather bag.
“Carling’s leaving?” she asked.
“We’re going to the city to research a few things,” he said.
Even as Rune started to ask about Rasputin’s odd stillness, she tossed her armful, Rasputin and all, to the ground. He lunged forward to snatch up the dog before Rasputin hit the sand. He said, “The hell’s the matter with you?”
The Vampyre curled a lip at him. “Relax, Wyr. The little shit’s in a stasis spell. He wouldn’t have felt a thing.”
Rune studied the dog he held in his hands. Rasputin’s body was lax and warm under thick, luxuriant fur. He wasn’t breathing, but Rune could feel his life force, glowing like a firefly underneath his fingers. An unfamiliar metallic collar at his throat thrummed with magic. Gently Rune manipulated one of his legs. The flesh was pliable under his fingers, and the delicate muscle and bone flexed easily. The dog might not have felt the initial impact, but the stasis spell would not have prevented him from being injured in the fall.
“How long can he stay this way?” he asked.
“For as long as a day or so, until the collar wears down and has to recharge. It’s the same spell Carling used to hold Tiago in stasis when he was bleeding to death. The dog doesn’t know a thing. He’s perfectly fine, more’s the pity.”
He noticed the leg he was flexing was one of Rasputin’s crooked ones. He bent to place the dog carefully on the sand.
Then he pivoted on one heel and sprang at Rhoswen with a snarl. Shock flared across her face. She tried to leap back, but he was far too fast for her to evade.
He locked one hand around her slim neck, lifted her off of the ground and shook her hard. Her body snapped back and forth. Her eyes flared red, her mouth opened wide and fangs sprang out. So did her claws. She raked at his forearm, gouging deep furrows until his blood splattered over the sand.
He ignored it as he yanked the Vampyre close. He said into her distorted face, “Grow the fuck up, you petulant bitch.”