Burned

I catch myself about to audibly clear my throat. I glue my eyes to his face, where they will remain until I leave this room, so help me God. I’m staring at Barrons’s brother naked. It makes me feel vaguely unfaithful somehow.

 

Ryodan stalks across the room, stops a few feet from her, close enough to unnerve, not so close that she won’t—if there’s as much red-blooded woman in her as I think there is—have as hard a time keeping her eyes locked on his face as I am.

 

Great, now I have to not look at his ass. With a distant part of my brain I admire that Jada/Dani doesn’t comment on Ryodan’s nudity, ask where his clothes are or demand he put some on. Ignoring it makes it irrelevant. No man wants his nudity to be irrelevant.

 

“One would think you wouldn’t bother to come looking for it, then.”

 

“It offends in letter only, not verse.”

 

“You know it has power. Over even you. Should I choose to exercise it.”

 

“Should you choose to exercise it, you’ll die more quickly than I currently plan.”

 

“You admit you’re Dani, then.”

 

“It would be inefficient for me to continue to deny that which we both know was once true. ‘Was once’ are the key words there. Dani is dead.”

 

“You’ve got that wrong. You’re the one who’s dead.”

 

“I’m alive. She was never as alive as me. She was in constant pain. I terminated it.”

 

“By terminating all emotion.”

 

“I feel.”

 

“Bullshit. The currency of life is passion, and as with any coin, it has two sides: pleasure, pain, joy, sorrow. Impossible to slip a single side of that coin into your pocket. You take all or nothing.”

 

She cocks her head and says coolly, “Perhaps we are alike, you and I, and I prefer my pockets empty.”

 

“My pockets are far from empty.”

 

“Says the man whose face is etched by neither laugh nor frown lines. Feeling nothing is called traveling light. It’s called freedom.”

 

“It’s called being dead inside. You will return her to me.”

 

“I won’t. She was too stupid to live.”

 

“Is,” he corrects. “And she’s not. She’s the one who’s smart enough to live. You merely survive.”

 

“One of us must. You were no help. You lost her the instant she stepped through the portal and entered Faery. You didn’t save her. She waited, thinking you were different from those who used and betrayed her. She believed you would find her, come charging to her rescue. That belief was as misplaced as the monsters we faced were deadly. The day came she finally lost her faith in you, and I was there as I’ve always been there when she needed me, and she was grateful. I saved her. Not you. You failed her. Failed as in: did not accomplish the specified, desired objective; performing inadequately or ineffectively; neglecting to honor promises, implied or contractual—”

 

A muscle in his jaw twitches. “Like I need a fucking dictionary.”

 

“It would seem you do. You broke her finger that night in Chester’s. I’ve not forgotten. I forget no wrong done to her.”

 

“It was unintentional. Sidhe-seer or not, I’m unaccustomed to young humans. Their bones are different.”

 

“I’m no longer young.”

 

“I’m bloody fucking aware of that.”

 

“ ‘I’m aware’ would have sufficed. ‘Bloody fucking’ is superfluous and contributes nothing to the sentence in either connotation or denotation.”

 

“I’ll bloody fucking decide what’s bloody fucking superfluous.”

 

“You’re so … human. It’s inefficient.”

 

“Wrong on that score. And efficiency is no guarantee of survival. Nor is intellect. What it takes to be the last one standing is an unquenchable hunger to live. He who wants it the most wins. It takes fire, willingness to burn down to your motherfucking core.”

 

“You’re ice. Yet you live.”

 

“Not as cold as you think.”

 

“Omission or commission. You said you would break more bones that night.”

 

“A necessary threat, one I knew she wouldn’t test. I’ve rescued her in Dublin’s streets more often than you. Saved her times uncounted without her knowing. She’s not as unbreakable as she likes to believe. The day Jayne took her sword, I was there before Christian. It was I who nudged Christian in her direction.”

 

“You do nothing without motive.”

 

“She needed to see what he was becoming. Not hear it from me. She has never been unprotected, from the day I learned of her existence. First my men, then I, watched over her. But you know that. The night the gang of drunken men attacked her near Trinity, it wasn’t you who got her out of that one.”

 

“Only because she fought me instead of them. She should have killed them. I would have.”

 

“Unlike you, she prefers not to kill humans.”

 

“You make it sound like a virtue. Protecting those sheep. Rather you should knit sweaters from their skin and roast mutton of their flesh. Three nights ago I finished what you failed to complete those many years ago. They’re dead now.”

 

“There are lines. You’ve dragged her across enough. I’ll do whatever it takes to preserve what humanity she retains, and guarantee she lives long enough to master her staggering power and intellect—”

 

“My staggering power and intellect.”

 

“—while keeping you out of the driver’s seat—”

 

“I belong in the driver’s seat.”

 

“—and giving her a chance to fly.”

 

“They’re my wings.”

 

“It’s her sky. You were made, not born. It’s Dani’s life.”

 

“Was. She was a fool. She wept like a helpless child that night at Chester’s while the entire club watched. Not because you broke her finger or threatened her but because you were alive and she was that happy to see you. She was always happy to see you. She lit up inside. You lost her. You let her be lost.”

 

“I ripped this city apart for a month looking for her.”

 

“That month was five and a half years for me.”

 

Ryodan flinches almost imperceptibly.

 

“Five and a half years in Hell. Don’t berate me for being. Thank me. She was weak. She needed me. I became.”

 

“She was never weak. She was a child. Treated abominably. Yet she shined.”

 

“I was never a child. I couldn’t afford that luxury. She made mistakes. She is dull. It is I who shine. You of all people should see that.”

 

“That’s why you’ve come today. To show me you’re all grown up and display your dazzling new persona.”

 

“As if I care what you think. I came for the contract, nothing more.”

 

“Because you believe it’s the only hold I have on you. You’ve been back for weeks and haven’t tried to kill me. I’d imagine, considering how hard I was on Dani, I must rank high on your list of scores to settle. Yet you’ve avoided me. You fear me.”

 

“I fear nothing.”

 

“Or perhaps you can’t quite bring yourself to kill me and have begun to wonder if my contract somehow mystically prevents you from harming me.”

 

Jada tenses slightly, and I realize Ryodan’s nailed it. Barrons told me a few months ago that Ryodan had coerced Dani into working for him, that he was being tough on her, trying to make her see that she wasn’t indestructible, curb some of the recklessness that would one day get her killed. Jada would surely despise Ryodan for controlling Dani. So why has she been back in Dublin for weeks and not once tried to get even with him? That’s not Dani’s way at all, and since Jada appears to be Dani on steroids, well … I hold my breath, waiting for her to answer.

 

“Let me make it simple for you.” Ryodan reaches beneath his desk, presses something, and a hidden panel slides soundlessly out.

 

“I would have found that,” Jada says instantly.

 

He pulls out a sheet of paper and glances at it. “Said contract. Signed in blood. By Dani. In your hand. Binding both of you. You think this keeps you from killing me. You want to kill me, pick up the blade on my desk.”

 

“You would only come back. When I kill you I will do so for good.”

 

“Get a little practice. See what it feels like to drive a knife through my heart. Relish it. Watch the light fade from my eyes, stare into my dying, taste it, see how you like it. There’s a moment in death that is unlike anything else in all existence.”

 

“You think I don’t know that. I began killing far younger than you.”

 

“Not even close. I’m here now. So are you. Do it.” He rips the contract in half, drops the pieces to the floor. “Contract void. Kill me. Dani.”

 

Jada says nothing. Her gaze drifts down to the knife on his desk, then back to Ryodan, but not starting at his face. It makes it there only after a false start from his feet.

 

“Pick up the fucking knife,” Ryodan orders.

 

“You don’t order me around. I’m not she who once obeyed.”

 

He steps forward, closing the space between them. I wonder how many of the Nine I’m going to watch die today.

 

Ryodan takes the knife from the desk, grabs her by the wrist and slaps the hilt into the palm of her hand. “I said kill me,” he says softly.

 

And all I can think is, God this is a terrible bluff. He’s trying to force Dani to stir behind Jada’s implacable countenance, force her alter ego to do something he believes Dani won’t let her do because she lit up whenever he was around.