Feversong
Page 63

No one had been willing to let me open the music box again, although Dancer asked me to bring it by the lab the next day. Everyone agreed that it shouldn’t be permitted out of my or Barrons’s hands, as Cruce had clearly coveted it and could easily take it from Dancer.
“I’ll listen to it again tomorrow but I want to hear it at my lab. I think there’s something to it. Any frequency that has such a profound effect demands further inquiry. It felt like the Devil’s tritone to an exponential degree,” he told me, grimacing as he reflected on it. He paused at the door, ready to leave, and glanced back at Jada, a smile lighting his face. “You coming?”
She gave him a cool look. “Something came up. Raincheck.”
His smile faltered. Though he tried to quickly conceal his disappointment, it was evident for all to see.
Ryodan said, “I don’t need you tonight after all, Jada. Go with him. Take the night off.”
Her head whipped his way and she glared daggers at him.
“Cool,” Dancer enthused. “Let’s go.” He was back to being happy again.
“Ryodan’s…issues…weren’t the only things that came up,” Jada said tonelessly. “I’m busy.”
Ryodan said in a voice I’d never heard before, and couldn’t even peg the emotion of, “Jada. Go. With. Him. Now.”
They locked gazes for a long moment, then she stood, bristling, blasted past Dancer and stormed out the door, tossing a “C’mon, let’s go” over her shoulder to the bewildered looking young man.
Once they were gone, I said to Ryodan, “What on earth happened between you two? Last thing I remember is you saving her from the fire. I thought she’d appreciate that.”
“She did. Even bloody thanked me. But then something else happened.”
I waited.
He assessed me a moment, taking in the Khaleesi-blond hair, lingering on my eyes a long moment. “I’ll be damned. You really are turning Fae. Do they have the power to heal human bodies?”
I pondered that a moment then said, “I believe they do to some degree but I don’t know how, nor do I know how fully. I suspect they use the Elixir of Life to heal serious wounds on the exceedingly rare occasion they want to keep a mortal alive, and that has a serious side effect.” Immortality. “Why? Who’s injured? And can’t you do anything about it?”
“Not something of this severity. This is beyond my ability to affect unless I did the same thing I did to Dageus—”
Barrons growled, “Which you are never doing again.”
“I have no intention of it. I doubt he’d survive it anyway. He’s not the right raw material.”
“He—who?” I demanded.
“Dancer,” Ryodan said tightly. “He has a congenital heart problem. Apparently quite serious.”
I went rigid. Dani adored him. They had something more than mere friendship. Once, long ago, she’d blushed when she told me he’d given her a bracelet. I’d often wondered if a romance might bloom between them. And as she continued to thaw, becoming more like Dani and less like Jada, he seemed the perfect fit. The right young man to make her feel alive again, perhaps recapture a sense of innocence. Whether or not that happened, it would still break her heart to lose him. And she’d already had more than her share of heartache and loss. Why him, of all people? “This is complete and utter bullshit,” I seethed.
“I agree,” Ryodan said grimly as he vanished out the door.
 
 
JADA

I threw my leg across the Ducati, glanced back at Dancer to motion him to get on behind me then shot right back off it and growled, “I changed my mind. Let’s walk.” If I crashed the bike, no big to me. Every big to him. Besides, he was already excited enough about Mac and the song and music box. I didn’t want him getting any more excited. Don’t kill the boy before he’s dead, Jada, Ryodan had said with his cool silver gaze moments earlier. You’ll hate yourself for it one day. Go talk with him.
He was right. But I would certainly have appreciated a little more time to deal with the unpleasant reality of Dancer’s flawed biology before having to deal with the very pleasant reality of Dancer, alive and laughing and ready to tear off on our next reckless adventure—which would never happen again because he wasn’t blowing out his heart on my watch. That was something I’d really hate myself for, and not one day. Instantly.
“Aw, c’mon,” he protested, “I’ve never ridden a Ducati before. Show me what it can do!”
I was gripped by a sudden fierce desire to protect him. Or lock him up somewhere and never even let him breathe hard.
“Seriously, I want to walk.” I loped off down the street, knowing he’d follow.
He didn’t. But I didn’t figure that out for a block and a half, when I turned to snatch a sideways glance at him, see if I saw any signs of strain in his face, if I was walking too fast.
I was alone, confirming how off-kilter I was. With my senses, I should have registered that I wasn’t hearing him.
I spun around, peering into the night. There he was, way down the street, still standing in front of Barrons Books & Baubles, arms folded over his chest, leaning against a streetlamp. I felt my chest grow tight and caught my breath. I’d always thought he was attractive, now even more so with the amber glow of the gas lamp burnishing his dark hair with a kiss of gold, his eyes the color of tropical sea surf. It made me feel perversely mad at him. “What the hell are you doing?” I snapped.
“Waiting for you to come back here and tell me what the bloody hell is wrong with you,” he snapped back.
A dozen caustic replies took shape on my tongue but all that came out was a soft, miserable sigh. There he stood, six feet four inches of solid, healthy man, but the heart inside his athletic body didn’t possess the same strength. What kind of universe pulled such a dickhead stunt? And why him? Why not, say, someone mean and deceitful like Margery or someone evil like Rowena—but no, that old bitch had lived well into her eighties! I sank down cross-legged on the sidewalk as the unthinkable happened and tears stung my eyes. I ducked my head so he wouldn’t see it, so he’d think I was just being stubborn and staying where I was, making him come to me.
A few seconds later I glanced up and saw the weirdest thing. Dancer was hurrying down the street toward me, but that’s not what was weird. Ryodan was the weird thing. He was standing outside the bookstore, staring down the street at us, hands fisted at his sides, looking quite possibly angrier than I’d ever seen him, and I’ve seen that dude ten shades beyond pissed, well into homicidal fury.