Текст книги "Shadowfever"

Автор книги: Karen Marie Moning

Соавторы: Karen Marie Moning,Karen Marie Moning
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Текущая страница: 37 (всего у книги 37 страниц)

54

Jericho Barrons buried his son in a cemetery on the outskirts of Dublin, after five days of keeping vigil beside his lifeless body, waiting for it to disappear and be reborn wherever it was they were reborn.

His son never disappeared and was never reborn.

He was dead. Truly dead.

I kept a vigil of my own at the door to his study, watching him stare at the beautiful boy through the long days and nights.

The answer was so simple once I’d thought of it.

It had taken a while to find him flying over the city, but he’d finally soared in beside me, blacker than blackness, with his Nightwindflyhighfreeeeeee comments and his old friend remarks—serene and smooth, chuffing the night air in small frosted puffs. The wind had steamed like dry ice in his wake.

I’d asked a favor. It had been the best kind for a Hunter. It had amused.

It took Barrons and five of his men to get the beast from beneath the garage up onto the roof of a nearby building, safely restrained.

Once they’d been far enough away, they radioed me and I had my new “old friend” fly in and do what he does best.

Death isn’t nearly as final as a good K’Vrucking.

When he closed his great black leathery wings around the beast and inhaled long and deep, the beast turned into the boy.

And the boy died.

As if K’Vruck had simply inhaled his life essence.

After he’d suffered who-knew-how-many thousands of years, the child was finally at peace. So was Barrons.

Ryodan and his men had sat with Barrons through the days and nights, waiting, wondering if it was possible one of them could actually be killed. They’d seemed as offended as they’d been relieved. Kasteo had sat in the room and stared unblinking at me for hours. Ryodan and the others had to drag him away. I wondered what they’d done to him a thousand years ago. I knew what grief looked like when I saw it.

And when they’d left, although hostility had poured off them in my direction, I knew I’d won a stay of execution.

They wouldn’t kill me. Not now. I didn’t know how long they might feel benevolent toward me, but I’d take what I could get.

And if one day they decided it was war between us, it was war they’d get.

Somebody’d made me a fighter. With him by my side, there was nothing I couldn’t do.

“Hey baby, you up there?” Daddy’s baritone soared up from the street.

I peeked over the edge of the rooftop and smiled. Mom, Dad, and Inspector Jayne were standing down below, in front of the bookstore. Daddy was carrying a bottle of wine. Jayne had a notebook and a pen, and I knew he was planning to grill me about methods of Fae execution and try, once again, to get his hands on my spear.

I was thrilled my parents had decided to stay in Dublin. They’d taken a house in the city, so we could visit. One of these days, I would give Mom most of Alina’s stuff back. We would sit and talk, go visit her apartment. I’d take Mom to the college where Alina had been happy for a time. We’d remember her and celebrate what we’d had with her while we had it. Mom was a different woman now, stronger, more alive than ever before.

Dad was going to be some kind of brehon, or lawmaker, and work with Jayne and his crew to maintain order in New Dublin. He wanted to fight, but Mom wasn’t real keen on that idea.

She was spearheading a group called NDGU. New Dublin Green-Up was devoted to making the city green again—fertilizing the soil, filling the planters, putting down sod, and eventually bringing the parks and commons back to life. It was the perfect job for her. She was the ultimate nester, and Dublin’s nest was sorely in need of some feathering.

“It’s open, come on up,” I called. Mom was carrying two pretty ceramic pots, and I could see the green tips of bulbs sprouting. All my window boxes and planters were still empty. I hadn’t had time to get out to the abbey yet and dig a few things up. I hoped they were a housewarming gift.

I turned and checked the table. The drinks were chilled, the plates out, the napkins folded. It was my first garden party.

Barrons was looming over a gas grill, searing thick steaks and trying, unsuccessfully, to hide his disgust. I wasn’t sure if he found the act of cooking meat revolting—as opposed to eating it raw—or if he just wasn’t much for dead cow because he preferred live … cow. Or live something.

I didn’t ask. Some things are better left unsaid.

He looked at me and I shivered. I never get enough of him. Never will.

He lives.

I breathe.

I want. Him. Always.

Fire to my ice. Ice to my fever.

Later we would go to bed, and when he rose over me, dark and vast and eternal, I’d know joy. Who knew? Much later we might fly a couple of Hunters to the moon.

While I waited for our dinner company to come up the stairs, I stared at the city. It was mostly dark, with only a few lights flickering. It wasn’t remotely the same city I’d met last August; still, I loved her. One day she would be filled with life, teeming with craic again.

Dani was out there in the streets somewhere. Soon I would go looking for her.

But not to kill her.

We’d fight back to back.

Sisters and all.

I think Alina would understand.

The good guys and bad guys aren’t as easy to tell apart as I used to think they were. You can’t look at someone with your eyes and take their measure.

You have to look with the heart.

The end …

 … for now.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This novel would never have reached readers’ hands if not for my brilliant dynamo of an agent, Amy Berkower, nor would it have been remotely what it is without all the wonderful people at Random House. Special thanks to Gina Centrello, for listening and for being there. Words can’t express my gratitude! And to Shauna Summers, my fabulous editor and biggest fan, and to the rest of the team at Random House: Libby McGuire, Scott Shannon, Matthew Schwartz, Sanyu Dillon, Gina Wachtel, Anne Watters, Kristin Fassler, the art department for the sensational cover, the sales team for getting my books out there, and the booksellers for hand-selling the series with so much enthusiasm. Thanks to my first readers who see the manuscript before anyone else and give me their unflinching critique: the talented and amazing Genevieve Gagne-Hawes, and my husband, Neil Dover (chef, musician, editor, and my inspiration in so many ways!)—I couldn’t do it without you two. Thanks to Leiha Mann, for making all things cyber-Fever and event-related run smoothly and feel magical. Last but by no means least, thanks to YOU, dear readers, for your feverish commitment that has made the Fever series such a success, and allowing me to do what I love most every day.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

New York Times bestselling author KAREN MARIE MONING is the author of the Fever series, featuring MacKayla Lane, and the award-winning Highlander series. Her events draw fans from all over the world, and her novels have been published in fifteen languages. She has a bachelor’s degree in Society and Law from Purdue University, and is currently working on a new series set in the Fever world and a graphic novel featuring MacKayla Lane.