Chapter 16 The Hunt
THE HUNT
Ryder had been avoiding this moment. He told himself–and others–that he was not giving Legion the satisfaction of seeing him. Even standing outside the bars and staring in, saying nothing, would have given Legion a gift.
Even now, he could feel Legion’s longing for him like a physical pull.
So he’d not gone to the dungeon in Daemon’s palace since Legion had been imprisoned there.
He hadn’t even gone past the palace, staying well away, as he nursed Grayson back to full health.
Or as full health as the young man seemed capable of since bringing the tidal wave.
His determination to ignore Legion was to punish only Legion.
But that was not true.
And everyone knew it.
Especially him.
But no one called him on it. Not even Balthazar who just gave him a sad smile, patted his shoulder, and changed the subject whenever it was brought up and Ryder began to spiral.
They understood that he needed a moment.
Maybe more than just a moment to absorb the past, the present and what he intended to do in the future.
There’s only one solution. Legion cannot be allowed to go on. After they are interrogated and there’s nothing left to get from their mind then… then I’ll have to do something.
So there had been no necessity for him to see Legion. There had been no rush to speak to them or deal with them in any way. It was all done with as little inconvenience to him as possible.
But now the time had come.
Legion’s mind had been delved, probed, scraped clean, cut into pieces and reassembled.
They knew everything that Legion knew. What Shaela knew too.
And, Caemorn had taken particular pleasure in interrogating Roan with Christian’s help.
Caemorn was crueler to himself–or a part of himself–than Ryder had ever been to any enemy.
He had to admit admiring the other Immortal for it, but also bleeding internally for him.
But already, loyal Vampires had spread out into the Ever Dark and throughout Earth to hunt down those who opposed them in their formerly hidden nests.
While many had fled in advance of their coming, not everyone had been so quick.
And each person they caught led them to more information, more locations, a better understanding of the Sect and its people.
They hadn’t located all the Kalys–or the Roans–yet, but it was only a matter of time until they caught them all.
So Legion wasn’t necessary to them any longer.
There was nothing stopping Ryder from giving them the Second Death that they so justly and richly deserved.
Even if Ryder had felt an ounce of pity for them, it wouldn’t have mattered, because he knew–they all knew, even Legion knew–that Legion could not be allowed to go on.
They were a monster. Literally. Figuratively.
They couldn’t–or wouldn’t–control themselves even if their past acts could have been forgiven.
Yet he was still hesitating at the top of the dungeon’s stairs.
He felt the air stir behind him and the familiar scent of his king filled his nostrils. Daemon had a scent that was purely his, though Julian’s smell was now very similar. It reminded him of the Ever Dark itself. Cool, crisp with underlying warm notes.
They’d spoken only once since the loss of Forsworn.
Since he had pieced himself back together.
It had been a brief conversation, but Ryder could not have borne much more.
He braced his hands against the walls as if he needed them to keep him upright.
Was now the moment when Daemon would finally tell him how disappointed he was in what Ryder had done in the War?
Would now come the recriminations that Daemon must have in his breast?
Ryder let out a long, slow breath. Being punished–finally–for his transgressions, his failings, his utter and completely contemptible actions would be a relief in some way. Then it could be over. Put in the past. He could be done with it.
“Legion is a representation of everything that I did wrong when you were away,” Ryder said to the empty air in front of him. “I should not get off so easily as to destroy them and go on by myself.”
“You find this easy?” Daemon’s voice was warm and sad.
Ryder hung his head. “Kaly was ill, but what is my excuse? I have none.”
“In war one must be ruthless. Half measures lead to failure. You know this,” Daemon reminded him. “You are my Soldier, not my representative of peace, Weryn.”
“But I attacked our brothers and sisters. I created disposable Children. It is because of me that there are so many broken Vampires now,” Ryder pointed out.
“War leaves scars.”
“You’re making excuses for me. You shouldn’t! I know that you must be angry.” Ryder shook his head. “So angry.”
There was a soft sound as Daemon let out a breath. Ryder’s shoulders tensed as if for a blow. Daemon had never hit them. Never used violence against them. It was unnecessary. Yet still he waited for that blow that he had earned.
“Are you angry with me, Weryn?” Daemon asked.
“Yes,” Ryder was surprised that the word slipped out. He was surprised that he felt anger. “No. I…”
“You are angry, because I left you all in the mess I did. But you understand why at the same time. So yes and no. Like you, I am angry about what happened. I am angry at myself for allowing it to happen. I am angry at all of you for making it happen,” Daemon admitted.
The hair on the back of Ryder’s neck lifted as he felt Daemon come near.
He was shaking. Trembling. In this life, his father had once taken a belt to his back.
Not just once. Many times. The physical scars had faded.
But the mental ones had not. In some sick way, Lawson had been a continuation of the abuse he’d suffered under his father.
Did he think Daemon would be yet another continuation of that toxic trend?
Daemon’s hands landed on his shoulders and he almost shrieked. But they were gentle. Daemon rested his forehead against the back of Ryder’s head. He felt the Vampire King’s warm breath.
“You are all my Children. My friends. My family. And I am bleeding out because of how much you suffered. How much you still suffer,” Daemon murmured.
Ryder turned his head but remained otherwise still. “We deserve to suffer.”
“No, no,” Daemon insisted. “Suffering is only good when it is useful to deter us from bad courses. Now your suffering just makes you hurt.”
“Suffering is punishment,” Ryder disagreed. “A just and right punishment.”
“No one who loves you would ever think that. And I love you, Weryn,” Daemon told him. “You are precious to me. All of you are. And I am so sorry that I allowed my pain to blind me to your need for me.”
Ryder slowly reached back and covered one of Daemon’s hands with his one. His eyes burned and his chest and throat were tight with emotion.
“Just before I died,” Ryder got out, his voice thick, “before Roan put me in that soul gem, we were at your tomb. And I…”
“Yes?”
“Daemon, I wanted to go to you. I wanted to beg you to wake up and fix everything. I wanted you to help me undo it all. All the death. All of our people,” Ryder swallowed.
It was so painful. His throat felt like he was swallowing cut glass.
“I dreamed of you,” Daemon whispered. “It seems I was not really dreaming.”
Ryder gripped his hand. “If I had gotten to you, would you have woken up?”
Daemon was silent, but then he said, “Yes.”
Ryder rested his head against Daemon’s. Tears were streaming down his face. His skin felt hot and tight. He let out a burbling laugh.
“You would have woken. You would have come back. You would have,” Ryder found himself saying over and over again. “I’m glad I didn’t make it.”
“Why?”
“Because you would have been in even more pain than you were when you went to sleep,” Ryder said. “There would have been no Julian there to comfort you.”
Daemon’s hands tightened on his shoulders. “You needed me.”
“We will always need you.”
“I let you down.”
“It was us who let you down,” Ryder corrected. “Seeyr knew that we were not worthy of you. We needed to make our mistakes. We needed to face the consequences. And then… we were brought back.”
“To suffer more?” Daemon let out a harsh breath. “When I think of what happened to you with Lawson and Balthazar with Roan and Caemorn with Artemis and Fiona… You all continued to suffer. I can hardly bear it.”
“We needed to go through it,” Ryder said, honestly believing it. “It was wrong for me to want to wake you and have you fix everything for us yet again.”
“I am your king.”
“And we are your subjects. We have a duty to you just as you do to us,” Ryder said.
“But I have been rewarded for my dereliction. Julian woke me. My beloved fledgling. Everything I hoped for and more,” Daemon murmured, his love evident in every word.
“You have Julian to sweeten what is a very sour situation,” Ryder said. “Your Immortals scattered. Countless Vampires ruined. The humans are untrusting, but more sophisticated than when you last knew them. The challenges are extreme.”
“They are, but that makes it interesting,” Daemon chuckled.
Slowly Ryder turned to face Daemon. The Vampire King stood tall and broad behind him.
He wore his favorite wolfskin coat that fell all the way to his feet, which were bare.
His chest was bare too. Other than the coat, he had on a pair of black, leather pants.
His toes scrunched against the cool stone floor.
“Did you shift with Julian?” Ryder asked.
A nod. Those red eyes–like banked coals–glowed hotly with pleasure. “He is doing so well. He flew with the raven he restored to life. It hardly leaves his side, but to perch in a nearby tree or at the end of our bed. Waiting for him.”
“Does he have a bird form? Fantastic!” Ryder enthused and meant it.