“The Order could have handled it,” Bastian cut back and slammed the door behind him.
“The Order cannot be the executor of mage Council business.” The tolerance of the Houses where angels were concerned was already strained, especially with the rogue on the loose. She was barely holding on to the Houses as it was.
His hands to her shoulders, he restrained her now as he couldn’t before. She actually kind of liked it, so she leaned forward to brush her mouth across his, adding a little sex to his fury. Her angry man. Just try to boss me.
The ice in his eyes belied the heat underneath. “It is too dangerous for you,” he said, “for the Council, for peace, for you to leave your wards. I won’t let you do it again, not for anything.”
“I’ll do what I must.” She loved to bait him. It was one of her favorite things, ever. Better than shopping. A close second to sex.
“You don’t think I can stop you?” A threat.
She smiled darkly. “I think you’ve met your match, or do you need me to demonstrate?”
The light in his eyes shifted. A shadow of pain. “Kaye—”
That tone in his voice, her Bastian wounded, did more than his arguments could have.
So she softened, too. Where he led, she couldn’t help but follow. “It’ll never be completely safe, Bastian.”
“You don’t have to keep proving how brave you are.”
“Yes, actually I do.” And all the Houses had to see it, or else they’d forget. Kaye Brand, firemage, did and would continue to burn every day, every night, under any circumstance. “It’s what holds their respect, that I will do what needs be done. And you were there to protect me, as always.”
Tensions had escalated perilously high, rivaling the time of Ferrol Grey’s tenure in the High Seat of the Council. The threats came from all sides now and whispers had begun that perhaps Grey’s plan had been the better one after all. What would Grey have done about the plague? Something definitive and foul. Would he have tolerated the mob growing around Dolan House? Not for a minute.
“Stop it,” Bastian said. “Do not begin to doubt yourself.”
Kaye smiled. “At least now you’re arguing my side.”
“I’m always on your side.”
Her thoughts had shaken her, and she could think of one easy way to feel good again. She’d bet her considerable shoe collection that Bastian would cooperate.
She stepped back out of his reach, and with a smile that promised utter sin and ruination, started down the buttons of her blouse. Soul-hungry desire filled Bastian’s eyes. The silk fell to the floor. The pencil skirt next, with a zip to the side. She wiggled her hips to help it fall. The slip floated down a second later. She stood in her underwear and heels, and stretched her arms overhead, both to lift her breasts to show them to their best advantage and to ease the tension ache at the small of her back.
Bastian did come to her, as she knew he would. She didn’t understand the pull between them, but couldn’t ever deny it either. She was his; he was hers. The universe had decreed it so. Didn’t matter that she was born to Shadow, and he to Light.
He grabbed her raised arm, so gently, stroking the hollow of her armpit with his fingertips.
“This is new,” she observed. “I’m not saying I’m not into it, but—”
Actually, he was making her hot. He always made her hot.
“Burn, Kaye,” he commanded. His voice had gone harsh, so she knew he was worried.
She craned her head to look, too, and found blackening fine lines converging into an abscess under her arm. Even Bastian’s softest caress ached.
Her mouth went dry. Tremors began to shake her, when she’d made sure that she never showed fear. Her legs buckled, but as always, Bastian was there to catch her. He lowered her to the floor. “You need to burn. Burn this sickness out of you. Come back new.”
He was so calm. Her soldier, battling himself.
Plague. Few survived this. She could name three mages, not including Mason. The poison had taken the strong and weak alike. It could take her.
“Burn.” Bastian held her.
And that’s how she knew he was scared, too, in spite of how composed he seemed. He wasn’t thinking. Faefire burns on angelic skin never healed. He had a trophy on his arm from last year, and it would sear his skin for the rest of his life.
She could feel the sickness now, poisoning her Shadow within. She was used to heat, but this didn’t come from her. It lacked the erotic pulse and shimmer of Twilight. This heat scorched in a way that fire never had before. It crackled and ached as it raced through her body. A terrible pressure pained her chest. She had to do this now.
She pushed Bastian away. He fought for a moment, and then let her go so that she could have her chance. She would never forget the unblinking agony on his face as he crouched nearby.
Kaye had never been so happy, so relieved, he wasn’t Shadow born so that he would not be taken up.
She reached for the drumbeat of her umbra, the bit of her that was elemental, which was power. She stoked it upward, carelessly, accelerant to flame, and gave herself to the eruption.
Bastian rocked in a near-fetal position. His head was roaring, senses rough as he watched.
Kaye was burning again, a second fiery molt, this time silently. Every time she came back—her power resurrection—the plague ate at her again. Sooner or later she wouldn’t want to return; she would linger in Twilight rather than face the pain and horror another time.
He was tempted to grab hold and burn with her. Remind her to come back or follow her into darkness. Anything was better than this.
“We have confirmation.”
Mason opened the door wider to let Custo inside the small suite. That the angel had come up here to speak to them privately meant he was respecting the deals made by Brand and Bastian. The results of the blood test were back.
Cari came out of the bedroom, dressed just in time, a questioning look on her face. “What’s going on?”
Mason directed Custo to a chair with a quick nod. “Have a seat.”
Cari came to the correct conclusion. “Who is it?”
Mason took her hand and tugged her toward the couch opposite the chair. She was better now. There had been a moment before when he’d been worried for her. Strong, dutiful Cari grappling with bad news after more bad news. But her gaze was as direct as ever. Her composure set. Maybe the Dolan aptitude for Shadow was really courage.
“The blood belongs to the rogue angel, Xavier, the same one who attacked you outside Vauclain House.”
Mason groaned. The angel. So much for Brand and Bastian’s peace. Maybe Cari would have to take Kaye’s place after all. Magekind would not stand for Order in their presence when they learned this.
“Rogue angel? Don’t make me laugh,” Cari said in the voice of all magekind. “I don’t believe you. He alone is well on the way to accomplishing what the Order has done time and time again—crush Shadow.”
And here Mason had thought she’d liked Custo. Not anymore.
“Angels have the same capacity for evil that any other soul has,” Custo told her. “He is very, very old. Found a way to sustain himself, probably with Shadow. I’m told that as a human he had the same aptitude for making that Mason here has.”
Mason caught Cari glaring at him. “I’m not like Xavier.”
Custo leaned forward. “He created a pathogen that his angelic blood could carry and that could be disseminated via Shadow.”
Shadow, the bread and breath of magekind, contaminated.
“The Order is tracking him. Xavier can’t run forever. We will not tire, not after what he’s done. He will be apprehended and escorted to Hell.”