That wasn’t all she admired, though. I wasn’t sure anyone had gotten the best of Gwyn in a century or two, and she couldn’t help but respect me for it. I wasn’t a complete fool, of course—I knew there were more feelings and thoughts at the end of Gwyn’s thread. She was probably forming a plan to kill me while she undressed me with her eyes. I knew she was, because I was doing the same thing.
“Did we miss the party?” someone called, startling both of us.
The voice floated from the dark, and its owner emerged a second later. Gil strode toward me casually, his hair artfully gelled, hands shoved in the pockets of his grease-stained jeans. Finn was slightly behind him, fresh from the transformation. He’d been too frantic to hose off, because pieces of torn flesh clung to his neck and forearms. The clean clothes Emma had left for him already needed to be washed again.
“Sorry, boys, party is over,” I told them. “Our guests were just leaving.”
Though I was responding to Gil, I directed the words at Gwyn. She gave no indication that she’d even heard me. The werewolf moved to stand on my right, and the vampire appeared on my left. They must’ve felt the new bond I’d made, but I didn’t sense anger from either of my friends. For once, the two of them were in perfect agreement, identical waves of protectiveness emanating from both of their minds. I realized these natural enemies had finally found a common ground—me.
Gwyn studied each male closely. When she was finished, she met my gaze again, and her expression was fathomless. “It’s been mere weeks since we spoke last, Nightmare,” she said slowly, “and in that time you’ve bound this many to you? I underestimated that delicious darkness writhing in your heart. It may be the death of us all… and what a death it will be.”
For these final words, her voice was an eerie, anticipatory whisper. I stared back at her, thinking that it almost seemed as though Gwyn of the Wild Hunt wanted to die. Suddenly I was tempted to use the connection between us to learn more about this ancient warrior. She wouldn’t be able to keep me out now.
Her taunt was the only reason why I hesitated. No, why I resisted.
Instead, I walked into the barn. It took exactly seven steps to reach it, and for those seven seconds, it felt like the only sounds in the world were my boots on the frozen gravel and the hollow wind. Neither Gwyn or her hunters tried to stop me—they couldn’t. Hiding an unexpected rush of satisfaction, I waited for Gil and Finn to pass before I pulled the door shut. It clanked into place and enshrouded us in silence. No one said anything. I stood there for a moment, processing what had just happened. What I’d just done. Then I squared my shoulders, took a breath, and headed for the stairs.
I had left Emma alone with a hysterical necromancer who was responsible for murdering her husband.
I pulled out my cell phone to send Damon a warning. I also sent a text to Lyari, asking if she was all right. My companions followed me up into the loft, and the thunder of the Wild Hunt’s departure filled the air, then faded into nothing.
As soon as we walked over the threshold, the lights hit Finn, and the sight of him hurt. He was even filthier than I thought. Blood smeared every part of his solemn face, and bits of bone were buried in his hair. He must’ve sped the transformation process when he heard the Wild Hunt arrive.
Concern pricked my heart. Werewolves lived extraordinarily long lives, if they weren’t killed… and if they didn’t kill themselves. I’d heard of their bodies giving out, wearing down, and Finn’s lined face made me worry he was on his way to being one of those wolves.
But those wolves didn’t have a meddlesome Nightmare in their lives.
“Why don’t you use the shower in my room?” I suggested gently.
When Finn didn’t acknowledge me, I put my hand on his shoulder. It was hot, as if the guilt he felt was radiating through his very skin. I didn’t need magic to know why he was so full of self-loathing—he thought he’d failed me. Just as he thought he’d failed me at the hospital. Just as he thought he’d failed Katie and his mate before that. I put my palms on both sides of his neck, forcing him to focus. “It wasn’t your fault, Finn. Any of it. Do you understand me?”
By now, I knew the werewolf so well that I didn’t expect an answer in words. Finn’s language was a silent one, but it was no less powerful. My question floated between us for a moment, then he wrapped his fingers around my wrists and bowed his head, breathing deeply. The bond between us lit up, glowing with our shared love, grief, and pain. I used our connection to communicate the truth Finn still couldn’t bring himself to believe, chanting it like a spell. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault.
“I am… uncomfortable,” Gil decided, his voice cutting between us.
The bond dimmed and Finn released his hold on me. I rolled my eyes, but it had done exactly what Gil intended—the tension in the room eased. It felt like I could breathe for the first time since Savannah had knocked on the door. I was still buzzing with magic and adrenaline, though. I turned to Gil and asked, “How much have you picked up from the bond? What do you know about Savannah Simonson?”
Finn’s footsteps made the floor creak as he went to shower. Considering my questions, Gil’s head tilted. “I know that she’s a necromancer, and a powerful one,” he said. “I know that she’s the kid’s mother. I know that whenever she’s nearby or her name comes up, people’s scents change and their hearts beat faster. And I know that she’s in the bathroom with Emma, who basically told me everything when we got high together last Tuesday.”
Savannah and Emma were in the bathroom? Why was it so quiet, then? Anxious for the old woman’s safety, I strode down the hall quickly. Faint sounds floated through the door, and I recognized Emma’s voice. They were talking about Fred. My shoulders slumped, and as I turned, my gaze flicked to the door on the other side. I considered checking on Nym—in my mind’s eye, I saw that strange nod he’d given me during the confrontation with Gwyn—but my head was starting to hurt. Conversations with Nym tended to be confusing and sad, which would only add to the dull throb.
Telling myself I’d talk to him in the morning, I returned to the main room instead. I sank onto the couch and released a long, weary sigh. Gil dropped on the cushion next to me, hitting the leather so hard that it sounded like a slap. For a minute, we listened to the sound of running water. The refrigerator hummed and rattled as it made another batch of ice.
“It figures that, instead of finding a way to break the bond, I just make another one. Story of my life,” I muttered, already brooding over everything I could’ve done differently during my latest confrontation with Gwyn.
“Break the bond?” Gil echoed, his face turning toward me.
I looked back at him. My eyebrows drew together, and remorse stabbed my heart for the thousandth time. “Yeah. That was always my plan, but we keep getting attacked, so I’ve been a little distracted. When I did the spell, I didn’t want to enslave you to me, Gil. I was trying to defend myself. I will fix it, okay?”
“You think the bond took away my choices?” Abandoning the couch, Gil squatted in front of me, his hands folded between his knees. There was no trace of sarcasm in his voice as he said, “The bond doesn’t take anything away from me. It gives to me.”