Chapter 30 #2
He should probably apologize for that at some point.
Some idiotic phantom took a brief hold of his consciousness, and he winked at her, then immediately hated himself.
Dear Mother. Was this what sharing Sean’s soul meant? Was he now someone who winked at women? How vile.
But a flood of red stained Anna’s cheeks.
Intriguing. Maybe Sean’s charm had its perks. Maybe if he played this right, she’d let him touch her again. And again.
Distracted, David missed the moment Cathaire barked out their pairings, but he straightened as Sean approached.
“Ran into your one-night stand in the cookery this morning,” Sean said, unsmiling.
“Was she walking funny?” David replied.
He snorted. “You’re such an asshole.”
“Sticks and stones.”
“Right.” Sean crossed his arms. “Ever think we’d be here?”
That David had no inclination to fight or even argue was a testament to how much had changed between them, but he stuck to the tried and true—brutal sarcasm. “If I had, I might’ve let you kill me.”
Sean’s smirk struck a familiar chord in David’s brain, like looking into a mirror. “I can try now, but I doubt I’d like the results.”
“Alas,” came his dry response.
A couple steps closer, Sean searched David’s face. “Bel said she did it at the bonfire. She put it in our cups.”
That long ago? The sudden squeezing pressure in David’s chest robbed him of breath. She’d drugged him.
Bitch.
“Do you feel different?” Sean asked.
Giving up the useless pretenses, he lowered his guard. “I feel you. I didn’t notice because I feel everyone, but you’re brighter. I feel you when you’re not around.”
Sean’s unearthly blue eyes glowed like cobalt glass lit from behind. He trained them on David, his expression riveted. “What do you feel?”
David kept his stance relaxed and studied the other man, sifting through his emotions. “You’re scared.”
A muscle twitched near Sean’s eye. “So are you.”
He nodded. “For a different reason.”
“You’re afraid you’ll turn into your ancestor.”
“And you’re afraid you won’t.”
A rueful smile appeared as Sean gazed into the trees behind David. “I’m not who they think I am.”
“Neither am I.”
“No,” Sean said. “You’re not who I thought you were, either.”
A skittery, twitchy sort of sensation prickled over David’s skin. “What do you mean?”
“She said we’re connected, right?” Sean said. “I wanted to see what she meant, so last night I went looking, and I found it. The connection. Do you feel it?”
The world around David muted while he concentrated hard on Sean, searching for the attachment. What he found made him suck in a breath.
A core filament in David’s chest strained toward Sean, like it wanted to reconnect a broken link. Or perhaps strengthen a growing one. Sean’s nearness brought it into focus—a magical bond, a meshwork of ever-dividing threads that coiled infinitely, half himself, half Sean.
Sean’s voice lowered. “You hide the real you behind ice. Why have you kept the best parts of yourself frozen so no one can see?”
He stiffened. “There aren’t any good parts, Sean.”
“It’s fascinating,” Sean said, ignoring him. “Like looking inside a rotten chest only to find it’s full of gold. How do you keep people so blind to who you really are?”
The prickles clawed into David’s spine. Desperate to end the conversation, he motioned to the minute space between them. “We going to do this?”
Sean lifted a shoulder. “It’s not like we’ve never done it before.”
“Back when a punch to your face only hurt my knuckles and not my own face.”
His grin, friendly and teasing, was wholly familiar, but it had never been directed at David. “Scared?”
“Honestly? You’re a bloodthirsty bastard and no amount of coercion has ever worked on you, so…yeah. I’m a little edgy.”
With a laugh, Sean said, “How does that feel, knowing I’m the only one you can’t control?”
“Kind of feels like I’m shackled to someone who won’t shut up but only speaks in mildly offensive limericks.”
“That obnoxious, huh?”
“I hate you.”
Sean raised his brows. “Says more about you than me.”
“You’re probably right.” David rubbed his forehead. “How do you want to do it?”
“No Luster.”
“Right. Because we both know without it, you can fuck me up.”
Sean’s smile turned sharp and dangerous. “I can fuck you up with it, too.”
David fought the urge to roll his eyes. See, now this was Sean Archer—this lethal, threatening man no one else saw clearly. His easy charm hid a wealth of deadly intelligence and ability, exactly like Lhynion.
No one recognized it a thousand years ago, and they didn’t now, either.
Once again, the vision of Sean holding a pixie knife aloft before thousands glimmered in and out of David’s mind. The vision became clearer each time he Saw it, as if the moment drawing closer brought it into focus.
Something huge approached, and Sean had no clue the role he’d play in it.
David shook out of it and resigned himself to pain. “Fair enough. Let’s fight.”
They circled each other, and David considered how best to approach this.
He’d been watching Sean fight for weeks now, and despite his hatred for this sort of thing, David wasn’t bad at it.
Sean, however, had known how to fight even before he understood who he was, and now he was stronger, faster than he’d ever been.
Sean moved first, but David feinted left. Sean seemed to expect that and drove a fist toward David’s ribs. He barely twisted in time to avoid it. They danced around each other’s blows, each light on their feet, neither landing anything serious.
At the periphery of his awareness, David heard the crowd gathering, larger than usual. “This isn’t going to end well,” he said.
“Yeah, but we already knew that.” Sean swung hard, his fist like a boulder as it connected with David’s jaw. His head snapped to the side. The point of impact went numb while pain splintered outward.
David shook it off.
“You’re hesitating,” Sean said.
Obviously. “Remind me why we’re doing this?”
“So you can prove you’re not soft.”
“I don’t particularly feel the need to prove anything to this mob.”
“Then I will.” Sean swung again, but David dodged. He used the momentum to land a blow to Sean’s face. Something crunched and blood spurted from his nose. The pain echoed through David’s head.
Sean grinned, and the battle raged on. Bruising, breaking, bleeding.
David swung. Sean blocked.
Sean struck. David rolled with the pain.
David gripped his arm and flipped him to the grass. Sean rolled before David could land a kick to his ribs. Sean dove for David’s ankle, and David fell to the ground. Hard.
The air whooshed from his lungs.
Aching, David staggered back to his feet, as did Sean. Blood dripped from Sean’s chin, and David could feel his own trailing down his face. The crowd around them hollered and booed, the masses closing them into a smaller and smaller circle.
“This feels a bit too much like fighting myself,” Sean muttered.
“In a fight between you and you, which one wins?”
Sean laughed. “Probably the one who didn’t get laid last night.” He faked a lunge, but some spark in the connection between them told David to expect it. He gripped Sean’s arm in a move he’d learned from Anna. With a simplistic maneuver, David had his arm tight around Sean’s throat.
Sean knew the countermove—David had watched him perform it at least a dozen times—but he wasn’t allowed the chance.
The crowd exploded into a frenzy, the shouts now outraged and terrified. Dozens of hands ripped David away from Sean. He was held back, his arms restrained, as Sean stumbled to right himself.
Voices rose.
Take him away!
He’s tried to kill the Savior!
Hang him!
Why have we let him live?
Sean took in the crowd, horrified. “Stop!” he shouted, though his voice was lost among the rabble.
Claustrophobia clawed at David’s senses, though he knew he could free himself with the right words if he chose.
The smell of sweat and leather clogged his nose, and the heat of the bodies surrounding him swelled.
He should have just thrown the fight like usual.
He’d known what would happen if he was seen as a true threat.
These people believed he could coerce their messiah to end his own life.
He was lucky they hadn’t attacked before now.
Someone sucker punched him in the stomach, and his lungs spasmed. The emotions surrounding him grew murderous, singeing his skin with their rancor.
Don’t fight back, he told himself. Don’t use your magic. It will only make things worse.
Sean fought to get closer, but people dragged him backward until David lost sight of him completely. In his place, a blue-eyed angel appeared, shoving people out of the way to reach him.
Sharp, near blinding pain shot through his arm as one of the assholes holding him bent it the wrong way. He fought the groan. Seeing this, Anna struggled harder against the mob, and he could see the intent in her eyes, her desire to stop these people with the magic they didn’t know she possessed.
Don’t, he mouthed to her.
But she didn’t stop. Her mouth opened, and David threw his magic toward her, silently overcoming her will.
He hadn’t tried anything like this, but his magic had crept out quietly before, long before he knew what it was or the things it could do.
Plus, Galadaine had been a master of silent coercion.
David knew he could do it if he wanted it enough.
Stop!
The unspoken command hit her hard. She froze among the writhing masses, though her blue eyes and her frantic emotions blazed with fury.
With no idea how long the magic would hold her hostage, David surrendered to the inevitable.
If these people discovered her secret, they’d treat her exactly the same.
They’d hold her down and accuse her of crimes against morality.
They’d hurt her, and then he’d have to kill them all.
So David took a breath and let them have him instead.
“Release me.”
The words were quiet, but they hit their mark. The hands restraining him loosened. The crowd screamed in outrage.