I slung my jacket over a chair and then headed downstairs. I was determined to wash the blood off before Nerissa got home. I peeled off my clothing, piece by piece, dropping it in my tracks, until I reached the shower. I flipped on the water, hot as my skin could take it without blistering. I would heal up from any burns, but I didn’t need to look as rough as I felt. Stepping under the spray, I lathered up my cornrows with a vanilla-scented shampoo that was Nerissa’s favorite. The water streaked down me, turning crimson as it pooled at the drain, then washed away.
And then everything hit me. I seldom went to pieces—I had learned too hard that you couldn’t let yourself falter or you would die. Dredge had taught me that. He had taught me what pain really was, taking me beyond the limits of what I thought I could endure to the brink of death, then dragging me back to experience more. Every scar on my body, every intricate piece of scrollwork he had carved into my flesh, reminded me of what I was capable of surviving. Even after he had killed me and turned me, after a long night’s torture, and sent me home to feast on my family, I had somehow managed to hold on long enough for Camille to lock me in the safe room. I had gone insane, yes, and it had taken all the resources the Y’Elestrial Intelligence Agency could muster to bring me back to myself. But I had endured. I had survived.
I had seen so many people die that I cared about. I had turned Erin when I swore I’d never sire another vamp. I had destroyed Sassy Branson, who was my friend, at her request. I had taken my friend Chrysandra out of the world of pain in which she was immersed, which she would never be able to heal from. Right now, I was feeling very much an angel of death.
No, that’s Delilah’s department, a small voice inside whispered. She’s the Death Maiden. And Camille runs death magic under the Dark Moon. All of us have suffered. All of us have caused suffering. It’s the nature of being alive. It’s what being human . . . what being Fae . . . means. We live. We die. We kill. We save. We burn brightly and then are gone to the ancestors. What matters is which side we fight on. Which side we pledge ourselves to.
Tired of thinking, tired of worrying over my thoughts, I turned off the water when it finally ran clear and clean and wrapped myself in a towel. As I padded into the bedroom, I passed the mirror. It was just as well I couldn’t see my own reflection. I didn’t want to face myself right now because it felt like the ghosts of the past would be staring back at me.
Nerissa was sitting on the bed, my bloody clothes piled in a laundry basket at her feet. She pushed it aside when she saw me and silently held out her arms. Her welcoming eyes, the bow of her lips, the soft rise and fall of her breasts beneath the V-neck sweater she was wearing, the nimbus of tawny hair tumbling down to her shoulders . . . the sight of my wife waiting for me in silence broke the numbness. Stumbling forward, I landed on the bed and she wrapped me in her embrace, holding me as I began to shiver. I wasn’t cold—vampires didn’t feel the cold or heat unless it was extreme, but a bone-chilling weariness spread through me to the point of where I felt barely coherent.
“Ssh . . . don’t speak. Just be. Just let me hold you.” The empathy in her voice, the love, filtered through and I found myself starting to cry. I tried to push away the tears—vampire tears are a bloody affair and I didn’t want to ruin her sweater—but she simply grabbed my towel and slid it over her shoulder and tucked me into that wonderful nook again. I struggled against my emotions, not wanting to feel, not wanting to admit how exhausted I was by this war, but the face of the young boy flashed through my mind again. The fear in his eyes, the realization that he was very young but had joined an army to destroy a city and had probably done his share of killing . . . it all hit me, and I began to sob in earnest.
“So much death. There were so many screams. The fires . . . we were a thousand dragons strong, and the night was on fire.” Pausing, I admitted what I really didn’t want to tell her. “I lost control. My inner predator came out and I gave her free rein. I went on my own rampage.”
Fearing to see her expression, I slowly sat back and used the towel to wipe my face, then raised my eyes to meet hers. But she merely shrugged and gave me a sad smile.
“This is war. This is what war does to you. It breaks you, and you pull yourself back together. You go back in and fight, and you do it as many times as necessary. Rozurial told me that you won the night?”
I nodded slowly, once again amazed by her ability to accept stark reality. “We destroyed Telazhar. His armies . . . there aren’t that many troops left and I doubt if there’s anybody alive to lead the cause now. Vishana led the attack. She drove them into the ground. Never, ever get on the bad side of a dragon.”