Nightwalker
Page 32

“You!” It reached out a shaking finger, pointing at the black woman whose electric blue wings were taut and tense. “You will pay for this meddling. These are not your affairs! Be warned!”
And then the god disappeared.
All else faded away. She screamed Jackson’s name over and over again, willing him to hear her. Willing him to awaken.
He did neither.
—
 
Ceara came out of the memory with a gasp. She lifted her hand to her cheek and found it was wet with tears. Her whole body felt wrung out, the emotions she had felt still solid in her heart. She was having trouble breathing, having trouble separating herself from the emotions of the memory she had just shared.
She realized everyone was looking down on her, including Cordo. He sat up beside her in the bed and his eyes looked haunted. He looked the way she felt.
“This is a terrible thing,” she whispered to him.
He nodded. He looked to Jackson. “How did you survive?”
“With a lot of hard work,” he said grimly. “Next thing I knew I was waking up in a bed surrounded by my loved ones. Although, in between all of that, I felt like I was floating away. Like I no longer had anything to tether me to this plane of existence. The only thing that kept me here was…”
He looked over at Marissa, love shining in his eyes. Marissa crossed the room and they met in a hard embrace. Ceara felt her throat tightening up once more with emotion.
“We must tell our Chieftain of this,” Ceara said. “Of all of this. Including the beauty we have found here. You are not what we were told you were.”
“What you were told we were?” Kamen echoed.
“Once long ago we used to live in this civilized world. Our leader was called something else, a Tsar, and we would ally ourselves with other races for various reasons. In the end it brought us nothing but trouble, so centuries ago we absented ourselves from the world of Nightwalkers and the world of men. Now we live in peace and quiet and we will not have that changed. Our Tsar is now our Chieftain and he rules with the assistance of a ring of elders, of which Ceara and I are two.”
“No one has had contact with your species of Nightwalkers for centuries,” Kamen said. “We had no way of knowing you had done this. No way of knowing the changes you have gone through.”
“This is the way we preferred it to be,” Cordo said. “The elders of our people told us contact with the outer world was a dangerous thing. And you see that is the truth of it. Your own memories show that to be true.” He paused. “However, it is clear that this s a concern great enough for all of us to take heed of. I would have said this was just a Bodywalker problem, but the ease with which you were cut down…a man of such incredible power. The ineffectiveness of your best attack against the god…it must be noted. It must be heeded. If, as you say, Apep will not stop until he has destroyed us all, it must be heeded. We will go back and tell our Chieftain what we have discovered. Then we will return and be liaison between our tribe and your court.”
“Thank you,” Viève said with relief. That was one down, now one to go! If they got the Mysticals on board, then the Wraiths would follow.
But no sooner did she have the thought than she realized that once that happened there would no longer be a reason for her to be here. She would be expected to leave.
But she couldn’t leave yet. Not when so much had changed. She needed more time. She needed…she needed to feel what she was feeling for just a little while longer. She had been made to feel special for the first time in her life, and she didn’t want that to end.
“I will bring you home and then back again,” Kamen said. “Are you prepared?”
“We are.”
Kamen turned to Viève. “You will be all right while I go?”
His thoughtfulness made her throat tighten. He was looking out for her. No one ever looked out for her.
She nodded to him even though everything inside of her was screaming not to let him out of her sight.
He reached out, took the two Phoenixes’ hands, and disappeared from sight. That left Viève alone in the room with Marissa and Jackson, who seemed to be wrapped up in each other for the moment. Not wishing to intrude, she inched toward the door.
“Viève.”
She froze when Jackson spoke her name.
“Yes?”
“Stay a while. We wish to talk with you.”
“Oh. Well…what could we possibly have to say to one another?” she asked with an uncomfortable laugh.
“You can tell us about the Wraiths.”
“Oh. Them.” She must have looked as disappointed as she sounded, because Marissa laughed.
“You do not seem particularly impressed with your own people.”
“They’re hardly my people,” she said as explanation.
That made Marissa frown. “What does that mean? You are a Wraith aren’t you?”
“Well yes. Mostly. Partly.”
“Partly?”
“I’m half Wraith, half human.”
“Oh. But half is still enough, isn’t it?” Marissa said.
“Depends on who you ask,” she muttered in reply.
“I see. So some would say you aren’t Wraith enough?”
Most. But she didn’t want them to think she wasn’t a proper representative of the Wraiths.
“The Doyen thinks I’m Wraith enough for this assignment, and that is all that should matter.”
“True,” Marisa said slowly. “But why do I feel like there’s more to this story?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Viève said, trying for a careless shrug but ending up with little more than a hunched shoulder.
“You know, before I was a Bodywalker, I was a psychiatrist,” Marissa said, moving away from Jackson and coming to take Viève under her arm. Viève stiffened at the contact, but didn’t want to seem rude so she allowed it. “If there is something you wish to talk about, I’m here to listen.”
“No. There’s nothing,” Viève assured her. But she was grateful for the offer. It was a kindness and she had had very few in her lifetime. “But I’ll keep it in mind. In case something does come up. But I’m not anticipating anything will,” she added quickly.
“All right. But I would like to talk about something, if that’s all right?” Marissa said.