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The fire spread, eating away the interior of the circle, boxing her in. She pushed that awareness away and centered on him alone. His malevolence and darkness seemed absolute, but she kept her focus on that spark, fanning it with every thought and feeling she could. It was a spark far different from all the flames leaping around her and starting to scorch her flesh. Exhaustion closed in with the fire and smoke. That fatigue she'd been unable to shake ever since she'd returned from the Dark One world was dogging her again, because there hadn't been enough time for long naps and proper meals. Hadn't been enough time for anything.
Desperate, she gave him her images of what they'd shared to help him remember his own. If she'd had more time, she could have made more of a difference. Oh, Goddess, if she lost him, she would lose everything, and not just because her words to Seneth and the Fen about her destiny had been truth. It was more personal than that.
Dante would tear her soul in half if he was lost to her. He'd come to her in his dreams, and yet she thought maybe he'd always been there, the shadowy form of what she knew was hers. Nothing easy or the answer to a girl's romantic dreams, but a real, overwhelming devotion and love, something that would consume and elevate at once, always be a roller-coaster ride of challenge.
Dante, don't let me lose you. I believe in you.
She couldn't breathe anymore. Her vision was getting gray because of the effort, or perhaps because Dante's power had been an explosion of Dark One poison so much like what was in his world. She hadn't really gotten over her last bout with it.
But if this was the cost, she'd take it. Distantly aware of angry discord going on outside the circle, she hoped Mina understood and didn't take the choice away from her.
Dante, I love you. I would die for you, but I'd really rather not. And I don't want you to die. Please trust me. Come to me. Surrender to me.
Her arms were trembling. In another moment her cheek would be pressed to the hot ground, the ground that was even now burning her scales as if she were lying on heated tin. She'd give anything for that terrible stench to go away, the smell of death and hopelessness, decay and things best forgotten. As her arms gave out, she let out a cry.
She stopped just short of that heated surface. Dante's hands were on her upper arms, bringing her upright again. Her tail curved in a shimmering red and gold arc between his feet. Though his palms were almost as hot as the ground, and slick with sweat and blood, they could have been engulfed in flames and she would have welcomed the brand of their touch. Lifting her weary head to look at him, she gave him a tear-streaked smile. He stared at her, so many things struggling in his confused, tormented soul, more than she could understand, as always. She'd always had trouble reading him, because so much was there. But she would decipher every feeling, offer something to each one. Comfort to his sadness, companionship to his loneliness, love to a heart that had received so little of it. Please, Goddess, give us the time. We both surrender to Your Will. Please help us.
She held her breath. As his head slowly bowed, tears spilled out of her eyes. Since she couldn't stand, and he was already kneeling, he had to go lower. Curling up on his side, his wary gaze never losing its intent lock on her face, he laid his head on her lap.
Her hand fell to his shoulder, then over his bare hip, stroking him, soothing him. It took a while, long enough that she was shivering with pain, but then the flames withdrew, retreating to the outer edge of the circle, dying away until it was just her curved over Dante on a tiny, circular patch of hot but unscorched earth.
Taking a deep breath, she laid her hand on the silver band at his throat. On an impulse, she fingered the latch, and it sprang free at her touch. She'd collared him, she could release him. High emotions running through her, she slid the band out from under his throat. He remained motionless, though she felt a quiver run through him. Laying it aside, she put her hands on him again.
Blinking, she looked up and met Seneth's gaze. Surprise, speculation, but nothing else. Of course, the Bentigo were the judge, not the jury. Changing her probe, she directed it toward the Fen.
Her heart fell, stabbed by cold fear.
They were afraid of the magic they'd just seen, overwhelmed by it. But there was no alteration in their feelings. The anger was still there, the grief. Over it all was resentment at what she'd shown them. They weren't interested in healing his soul, or her destiny. What they wanted was blood and vengeance.
No, that was surface. Pushing aside her despair and pulling on a deeper well, she found the under layer. What they wanted was an easing of their pain and loss, and only time could bring them that. After Dante's execution.
Like the angels of her world, the Bentigo apparently knew the minds and desires of those they protected. Seneth spoke. "It appears you stand alone, angel's daughter."
She swallowed over a throat aching with tears and smoke. Dante's fingers tightened on her thighs. The bestial rage of the violent sorcerer had receded, leaving something far more heartbreaking. He was glad to be free of the bindings. They had hurt. He was glad for the softness of her thighs, her touch, however brief it might be. He was weary, so weary he wasn't sure any of it mattered anymore.
No, she demanded, as more of her tears spilled. Dropping onto his face and shoulder, they left a trail in the ash and soot.
"Alexis." It was her father speaking. She raised her face toward him, even though she didn't want to do so. Her feelings, her sense of failure, overwhelmed everything else, so she couldn't interpret his state of mind, but she knew his impassive expression. It was the way he looked when he was facing the most difficult of choices, or when he was concealing great emotion. "Come here, Alexis. Come stand beside me."
Go to him. I surrendered to you, but you must obey me. I will not have you in the middle of whatever is about to happen.
I won't leave you.
You must. Do this one last thing for me, and know that you have done far more than I ever deserved.
"Alexis." Jonah's voice was sharp now, sharp enough to cut through her emotions. She choked on a sob and looked back at him. He extended a hand, his voice gentling. "Come here, Seabird."
Trust your father. Unbidden, her mother's words came to her. But how could she trust him to do what she wanted him to do, when she knew it would be against everything he knew was right? Even what she knew was right. But the right thing wasn't always the right thing.
Go to him, Alexis. This time, it was Dante's voice in her head. I will allow your witch to kill me. I sense what she has done in her spell. Though she will not override their death sentence, she doesn't intend to give me back to them. She will make it quick, and I will not be bound or made a slave. They are right, Alexis. No matter why I did it, I took from them. And you have shown me . . . made me understand something of what it would be to lose someone like that. Give me the gift I cannot give them. Let me know the one I came closest to loving is safe.
She wouldn't do this, wouldn't just step aside and let them or Mina kill him. It was wrong, but she didn't know how to make them understand that, any more than she'd already tried.
"No," she repeated, and levitated off the ground. Though it was agonizing, she forced her damaged wing to help her move. Her fingers slipped off of Dante reluctantly, but she moved and hovered at the edge of the circle, placing herself between him and Seneth. "I will not let you harm him."
At his implacable look, she reached out through the circle's barrier, closed her hand on his crossed forearms in desperation. "There is a reason there are gods wiser than us, who understand what we don't. He's in our world now, learning to be different."
When his expression didn't change, she looked toward the Fen. "You may not be in a place where you can forgive him enough to let him go. But justice is as deep as a river, and as unfathomable. Let his justice be meted out during his life."
"Alexis." Jonah's voice was low. "I am only going to say it once more. Come here and stand beside me."
If he had to do so, he would snatch her back next to him before
anyone here was even aware movement had occurred. A lump grew in her throat. No . . .
Alexis. Dante's soft voice in her head broke her heart, as he repeated his words. Obey him. I will accept this punishment.
They were all united. She'd lost. The witch will make it quick . . . That was the best outcome now. She turned and faced Dante. He'd risen to his feet, but the eyes on her face were no longer enraged. They held tenderness, something she'd taught him. Their touch was a caress. Her heart clogged her throat. Protection or no, her soul would be incinerated with him.
She wanted to go to him one last time, but he gave a faint shake of his head, jerked his head toward her father. Stifling a sob she thought might choke her, she turned and moved out of the circle, relying on the one wing and the base of her tail to move her along at a crippled shuffle that reflected how she felt inside. Scraped raw, burned to ash, aching from a beating that would never heal. Numb, she kept her head down, wondering if she could just close her eyes and imagine this wasn't happening. Her father's hand touched her arm, guided her until she stood at his side. David, Mina and Marcellus stood shoulder to shoulder with them, Marcellus's arm going around her waist to take her weight.
"Now," Jonah said mildly, adjusting to face Seneth. "It appears she does not stand alone."
AT first she wasn't sure she'd heard him right. Apparently, Seneth felt the same way. He blinked. "You would reject what is clearly the course of justice here?"
