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But when he rose at last, his fists clenched and eyes blazing, Mina was still there, regarding him impassively.
"You're surrounded by those who know there is often a wide chasm between what we want and what is right, Dante." She stepped forward. "But you can straddle both, if you know the way."
Before he could jerk back, she'd grasped his hand and put it on her chest, over her heart. A tremor of energy coursed beneath his feet, then shot upward through his body. He was flailing, dropping through darkness, into an abyss of pain and fear, desolation. It was Dark One energy, only instead of being in that world, he was merely inside the head of the seawitch. A light pierced the fog, reaching for him. Panicked, he clawed toward it, but he was not in charge of anything. Instead, he was being pulled, as if held backward and forward by tethers that moved him at a controlled pace toward it. As it drew closer, it grew too bright. It was going to illuminate the darkness of his soul, destroy that nocturnal, damned creature and leave nothing of him, because that was all there was. He cried out and bucked as his body began to glide into that light.
Then it stopped. He hovered there, his body bisected between his familiar darkness and the light that created such yearning and fear both. But as he drew deep breaths, struggling for control, he began to feel something different. Tendrils of . . . tranquility. It was how he'd briefly felt, sitting under the park tree in Alexis's arms, puzzled and yet warmed by her every action, her smile and love.
He broke out of the vision. Mina stood before him, still holding his hand to her heart, her eyes swirling with the darkness he knew far too well. It had taken over her features, turned both eyes red, elongated her fangs and turned her fingers into talons in truth. Her Dark One side. But he still felt that tranquility emanating from her. As he focused, he realized why. David stood next to her, his hand resting on her shoulder, his one black and one white wing spread, the feathers fluttering in the breeze created by her magic. His gaze was intent on the seawitch.
As Dante struggled to absorb what he was seeing, Mina spoke in a sibilant whisper, the Dark One language. "Balance implies more than one side, Dante. Do not deny yourself that."
With another blink, she was herself again, her eyes bicolored once more. David was back on the perch above him as if he'd never left.
Dante stared at her. She was beautiful now, but he remembered, back when he'd first seen Mina, she'd been scarred. Something mesmerizing about her had existed even then, powerful and frightening. She was the clean breath of another world, another way of living. He'd told himself he never believed her promise to release him if he proved himself. And yet, during the Mountain Battle when the curtain had drawn back fully, he'd been inundated by those many images of earth. Green, blue and colors of all kinds. He'd been close enough to see blades of grass, the stalks of flowers and trees . . . He'd wanted to be a part of it, burned to be a part of it, and then she'd slammed the door in his face.
Wanting wasn't an affordable luxury in the Dark One world, but when his anger had ignited, sweeping away fear, he'd realized desire--true, gut-level desire, a desire that gripped the soul--could not be denied.
Mina was watching him. As if she could hear his every thought, the realization that swept through him, she inclined her head. "Your intent is noble," she observed. "But noble idiocy serves no one."
With that acerbic comment, she left, David casting him a wry and almost sympathetic glance before he launched himself to follow in her wake.
HE wanted to see her, but he expected her to come to him, in Hell. As if he was Lord of the Underworld himself. Alexis was sure he expected her to come eagerly, because she couldn't bear to be away from him. Because she'd been aching with need for him ever since he left, not just due to the third mark, but because of what he'd said, that they were somehow part of one another.
Damn it all. The fact all of that was true made it all the more inexcusable. Would it have killed him to occasionally send her a thought, something simple? "Hi, how are you? Doing fine down here in Hell. Wish you were here." When she'd lost her pride and called out to him, more than once, he'd been radio silence. Even for this, he'd sent Marcellus with his message.
No, she wasn't that easy. No way, no how. She made him wait a day, had a gripe session with Clara that involved tears, chocolate and Clara playing the loyal friend by telling her he was a jerk and she deserved better. Then in the morning her friend kissed her and said, "Go get him, honey."
Jonah came to the town house to take her. Her mother was with him, and gave her a brief hug. They'd seen one another many times since that terrible night, so there was little to say. But as Jonah exchanged information with Marcellus, she had a few minutes to curl up on the couch, settle her nerves and watch her mother arrange fresh flowers in a vase.
Lex had picked them just this morning. Ever since he'd left almost a month before, she'd been collecting things she thought he'd like to see, like a widow who wouldn't believe her husband was dead. Okay, terrible analogy, but until his request had come, she'd been moving perilously close to those waters. He hadn't even come into her dreams. Though she'd dreamed of him, her imagination and desires had always been the conjurer, not him.
It had been hard to order her thoughts when he was in there picking things apart before she made her own decision on things. But now she didn't care if he did that. Maybe it only annoyed her because he anticipated her needs before she had them herself.
He hadn't asked, but she'd sent him her blood. She'd convinced Raphael to take it at regular intervals when she came for his treatments, and send it to Dante via David. She might have lost all pride, but she knew the intimacy of a vampire blood taking and she couldn't bear the idea of someone else doing that for him. She was his servant. Just her.
She wouldn't ask for his blood in return, not yet, but before long she knew Raphael would press the issue. She was hoping for a response from Dante before then. However, there'd been no thank you, no message, though David said he did take it for his nourishment. At first that had given her hope, but as the silence stretched out, she wondered if he was going to relegate her to an anonymous blood donor, rather than the fully bonded vampire-servant relationship she'd seen in Jacob and Lyssa. Something she was willing to embrace, if only he'd come out of his hole and let her. Idiot male.
"I can hear your thoughts as if you're shouting." When Anna turned to her, Alexis was struck by the disarming blue eyes which, coupled with her gentleness, gave so many the mistaken idea of fragility. Maybe she'd proven a few people wrong on that score herself. It made her proud to be her mother's daughter, enough that she'd tried not to sob in her arms from loneliness more than once or twice. Tigger, on the other hand, was in danger of water rot.
Her mother stroked her hair back from her temple. Sighing, Alexis leaned her head into her hand. Anna and Jonah knew about her physical condition now. It would have been impossible for Raphael to see her every few days without Jonah's knowledge, anyway. Plus, despite her desire not to hurt them, Alexis knew they deserved to know.
Fortunately, Raphael's healings were going well. She was following his rest and diet instructions to the letter, so some of her energy had returned. That helped, but she'd still feared a delayed reaction from Jonah to the initial news. However, aside from visiting and checking on her more often, he'd said nothing, not even a tirade against the vampire he'd view as responsible for it.
"Myel?"
"Hmm?"
"What did you say to Pyel, before we left for the Fen world?"
Anna's brow furrowed. "I told him to be safe and take care of you, of course."
"But there was something else, wasn't there? You told me to trust him, and there was a particular intensity when you did it. It was the same when you were speaking to him, before we took off. And the way he looked at you, and then me . . ."
"Oh, that." Anna shrugged, her lips curving. "I told him the same thing. I told him to trust his daughter."
Lex swallowed, shifted her attention to Jonah. As if feeling her r
egard, he glanced over his shoulder and gave her a smile, his gaze caressing her face.
"Thanks," Alexis managed with a thick throat, glancing up at her mother. "And thanks for saying the same to me. I forgot how much I can depend on him. He's forgiven me, but I still feel so awful . . ." About that. About Dante. About everything. "I didn't trust him, because I knew how he felt about Dante. And what was weird were his feelings didn't change. He still didn't like Dante, but I trusted him anyway."
"You're so close to emotions, Lex. It's your great gift and your curse. Actions are not always based on our feelings. Sometimes they are counter to them, when we love someone enough to act on their feelings, not our own." At Alexis's expression, Anna sat down on the couch and slid an arm around her. "Trust is always the most difficult between people who love one another. Particularly in dangerous situations. Because we love one another so much, we're afraid the decisions you make will take you from us."
"Like Dante, deciding to go back to Hell. He may decide to stay there always." Alexis got it out, though her voice quavered.
"He might," Anna responded, and cupped Lex's cheek. "But if you love him, you'll figure out how to deal with that. That's how love works. It can bring Heaven and Hell together if it needs to do so."
"You think so?"
"I have faith." Anna smiled then. "After all, your own birth was proof that miracles exist."
SO here she was. Lucifer had met them in the upper chambers, and they'd been winding their way through tunnels for a while, long enough for her nerves to be jangling. Any other time, she would have been soaking up everything around her, because she'd always had avid curiosity about Hell, and about the angel who ran it. But now her mind was completely on Dante, and what he would say to her. Or she to him.
Lucifer stopped at last, and Jonah with him. "Go to the end of this tunnel," the dark-winged angel told her, his deep voice a sensual, soothing slide along her nerves, though his dark, flickering eyes were unsettling. "It will open up to a narrow bridge. The bridge takes you out to the platform. That is where he prefers to stay, though he has handled tasks I've given him well."
"Sounds like a great new hire. Make sure he gets a good dental plan."
Lucifer raised a brow. Alexis bit her lip. "My apologies, my lord."
"Female temper is not unknown to me. Or its causes." Lucifer nodded to the tunnel. "Go to him. He missed you very much, Alexis. Remember that."
