Burning Alive
Page 42

The more she got to know Drake, the closer she got to him, the worse her vision hurt. Why would he just stand there and watch her without trying to help? Was all his selfless nobility some kind of act? Or was it something else? Maybe he was looking at her with pride because she was doing something worthy of it. Would she be willing to burn alive if it was for a good cause? If it saved the life of another? She wanted to believe she would, but in truth, she knew she was too much of a coward. Maybe she could accept some other fate if it was to save the life of another, but not that one. She’d feared it for too long. Burning alive was her worst nightmare. “I don’t want to use fire,” she told Gilda in a voice filled with shame. “Not ever.”
Gilda nodded in grim acceptance. “Then you should stay here and serve us as the Gerai do.”
“She is not a Gerai,” said Drake through clenched teeth. “She is far more than that and you know it.”
Gilda turned her black gaze on Drake. As lovely as she was, there was something frightening about her—some almost alien quality that demanded respect and obedience. “What I know is that I do not want to hang your sword in the Hall of the Fallen. I also know that if you take this damaged child into battle with you, that I will be doing just that.”
“It’s not your decision,” said Drake.
“No? I could kill her right now and be done with it. I care nothing for her and I would happily see her die in your stead.”
Helen didn’t doubt for one second that Gilda was telling the truth.
Drake’s hand went to his sword and Angus set Gilda aside and came to his feet in a movement so fast it was hard to believe it had happened. “Back off, son. Don’t make me hurt you.”
Drake’s jaw clenched, but he released his sword and took a deep breath. Helen could feel tension vibrating in his body, feel it humming between them. That control had cost him much effort. “Don’t talk like that, Gilda. You know we need her. I need her.”
Gilda had regained her feet, but was leaning against the carved boulder for support. “We need her to give the unbound Theronai hope, and to ease your pain, but that is all. Keep her for yourself. Use her as you will, but do not risk your life to her incompetence.”
“Use me?” asked Helen, unwilling to stay silent when they were talking about her like this. “No one is going to use me or keep me. For heaven’s sake, you make it sound like I’m some kind of slave.”
Drake gave her a hard stare. “You’re no one’s slave, Helen. Don’t listen to her.”
“Who else should she listen to if not me? There are no other female Theronai around.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re right,” Drake insisted.
Gilda sighed. “I understand the kind of feelings you have for Helen, but Logan has seen inside her mind and there is no hope for her. She is damaged. She will never be what you want her to be.”
Helen wasn’t sure what shocked her more, the fact that Logan had been able to pull something like that from her mind, or that he might be right.
“You haven’t even given her the benefit of the doubt, but you’re willing to believe a Sanguinar? Do you even know what he did to her?” demanded Drake.
Gilda glanced at Helen, who was totally lost. She knew Logan had walked around in her memories and that he’d taken some of her blood, but the way Drake said it, it sounded as if he’d violated her civil rights or something.
A pressure filled her ears, and the sounds of the night—the crickets singing and the wind through the trees—all disappeared. Helen rubbed her ears and tried to yawn to make them pop. A moment later the feeling was gone, but she’d missed whatever Gilda had said.
Whatever it was, it infuriated Drake. His face darkened with anger and his fingers dug into her hip. “Is Logan still here? I’d like to have . . . words with him.”
“You should be more worried about what your lady is going to do and less about what Logan is doing.”
“The Sanguinar are up to something,” said Logan.
Gilda waved her hand in a weary gesture. “The Sanguinar are always up to something. It is their nature.”
Angus pulled Gilda to his side. “And it is my nature to make you rest. You’ve given the girl food for thought. Give her time to digest it.”
Digest it? More like choke it down and pray it didn’t make her sick. “I promised I’d help Drake find Kevin’s sword,” said Helen. “I won’t go back on my word.”
“Foolish child,” muttered Gilda. “At least speak to Sibyl before you try something so foolish.”
“I’ve already asked for an audience with her,” said Drake.
Gilda’s black eyes narrowed. “Will she receive you?”
“I don’t know yet. Cain said he’d tell me in the morning if she will see Helen.”
“Sibyl will see her. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Thank you, my lady,” said Drake, bowing his head formally.
“Don’t thank me until after Helen has spoken with Sibyl,” said Gilda.
“That’s enough of that.” Angus picked Gilda up into his arms. “It’s bed for you, woman.”
Helen watched them go, feeling her world spinning out of control under her feet. There was so much she didn’t understand. Part of that was how Gilda could be a fierce, fire-breathing warrior one minute and cuddling in Angus’s arms the next. It seemed totally out of character somehow.
“You need to rest, too,” said Drake.
Helen nodded. She was bone tired and ached everywhere from her earlier attempts to create magical fire. “Who is Sibyl and why do I need to see her?”
Drake hesitated as if he didn’t want to tell her, but finally said, “She knows about how visions of the future work.”
“How?”
“Because she has them herself.”
Chapter 19
“You were awfully hard on that girl tonight,” said Angus as he laid Gilda in their bed.
Gilda wasn’t sure she had the strength to even pull the covers up. She’d pushed too hard tonight. In fact, she’d been pushing herself too hard for too many nights in a row. Synestryn seemed to be bubbling up everywhere lately. Something bad was coming. She could feel it in her bones.
“I had no choice,” she told her husband.
Angus pulled off Gilda’s shoes and slid her feet under the cool sheets. “You shouldn’t have told Drake you were willing to kill her. You had to know that would only rile the boy’s protective instincts.”
Gilda looked at her husband, studying his movements. He was gentle as always, but there was a slight hesitation about him that she couldn’t figure out. Angus never hesitated. He moved with sure, self-controlled certainty. It was what had kept them both alive for so many centuries. Maybe he felt it, too—that impending doom that seemed to throb in the air around all of the Sentinels.
“You think I was bluffing, don’t you?” she asked him.
Angus’s blunt fingers moved to the top button on her gown and started working it out of its hole. He didn’t look her in the eye, but instead focused on his task. “You weren’t?”
“No.” She kept her emotions under tight control so that none of them could slip through their link. She was used to keeping secrets from him by now. She didn’t like it, but she was good at hiding the truth. She never wanted him to know what she’d done to him—what she’d done to all the Theronai. “I would rather see her die than Drake. We’ve lost too many lately. Thomas, Kevin, Andrew. And that’s just in the past few weeks. How many more men do we have to lose before I’m allowed to be angry?”
“You’re allowed to be as angry as you want, Gilda. But you’re not allowed to sacrifice one person for someone you love more.”
“I can’t lose any more of them. Not now. Not so soon. Poor Thomas—” Her throat clamped down as she fought off the tears she could not let fall. It took her several seconds before she was sure she wouldn’t cry.
Thomas’s death played through her mind again. She’d pulled his last memories from his sword and forced herself to relive them over and over until they were burned into her brain. He’d been like a son to her and he’d died in excruciating pain.
Like so many of the others.
Angus’s wide hand smoothed over her hair and he looked at her with so much love in his blue eyes she thought she might split open with guilt. He loved her and she’d betrayed him. She was still betraying him with her silence, day after day.
“You have to stop doing that to yourself,” he gently admonished her. “None of them would want you to carry those last moments of their life.”
How could she explain to him that it was the only way she knew to keep them from dying alone? She couldn’t be there to protect them. She couldn’t be there to ease their pain. She couldn’t be there to tell them how much she loved them, how proud she was. All she could do was carry their deaths with her so that they would never again be alone.
“I’m just tired,” she told him.
They both knew it was a lie, but it was one they’d grown comfortable with. One they could both live with.
Angus finished unbuttoning her gown and slid it off over her head. She’d never been able to get used to modern underclothing, so she was naked beneath the smooth silk.
She felt a throb of desire pulse through the link before Angus had time to control himself.
It never ceased to amaze her that after having the same woman for several hundred years, Angus could still get aroused by something as simple as seeing her naked. But, rather than do something about it, he pulled the smooth sheets up over her and kissed her on the forehead. “Sleep, my lady. We’ll figure out what to do about Helen tomorrow.”
“I’m going to force Sibyl to see her. She’s the only one who will know whether or not Helen’s vision is real.”
Angus’s hand tightened around the sheet. “Do you really think that’s a good idea? Sibyl is still angry with you, and forcing her to do anything will only make things worse between the two of you.”
As if they could get any worse. “Do you have a better idea?”
Angus pushed out a weary sigh. “Helen isn’t ready for Sibyl. She’s not even ready to face the fact that she’s one of us. I don’t want to push her too hard or too fast.”
“Would you rather I simply kill the girl?”
“You can’t do that.” His voice was hard, final.
“You don’t think I’m capable of killing an innocent?”
Angus gave a sad shake of his head. “No, I know exactly what you’re capable of. But you still can’t kill her. If you did, you’d be killing Drake as well. He’s nearly bonded to her permanently.”
Permanently? It couldn’t be. Gilda felt a stab of fear. “No. It’s much too soon for that. He should have weeks left, if not months.”
“He has a few days at best.”
“How do you know?”