Wait for Dusk

Chapter Thirty

Venice had never looked so good to me. It represented the last stop on a tedious journey; the last thing keeping me from my beloved Savannah. I needed to go home. My sudden departure from the southern city had left many things hanging in the air. Tristan needed me. His battered psyche was being eaten away by guilt from having a hand in Lily’s death. The chaos created by the presence of the bori left the nightwalkers unsettled, and Knox had been forced to manage things in my absence. I needed to return home so I could smooth everything over. I needed to be there for Tristan.

But for now I was stuck in Venice while I waited for the members of the coven to reconvene. I sent Valerio on ahead to check in on the court and see what the recent gossip was. Danaus and I wandered along Guidecca Island as we awaited his return. The sidewalks were slick from a recent rainstorm and the water in the canals was high, slopping over the sides and past the railing. Storm clouds churned overhead with the promise of yet another storm that would leave many of the low-lying plazas underwater by morning. The lights in lampposts seemed to have dimmed, barely beating back the night, and an oppressive feeling hung in the air.

“Something ill is waiting around the corner,” I said, slipping unconsciously into Italian. This place, with its centuries of bloody memories and violent flashes, pulled me into the safety of old habits.

“It is only the weather,” Danaus replied in Italian as well.

Stopping near the edge of the island, I stared out across the lagoon toward San Clemente Island, the resting place of the coven. My stomach twisted into knots and I anxiously shoved my hand through my hair, pushing it away from where it had blown across my face. I couldn’t remain waiting here. I needed to get on that island to find out what was happening. I needed to wrap my hands around Macaire’s neck so I could rip his head off.

Everything will be fine, Danaus whispered across my brain. He laid his hands on my shoulders and attempted to massage away the tension, but the stiffness wasn’t going anywhere until I heard from Valerio.

To my relief, the Ancient appeared beside us a few minutes later, but by his expression, I knew I didn’t want to hear what he had to say. “The coven has gathered at the hall. They know that you’re in town and are waiting to hear your report,” he said.

With a jerky nod, I expelled a deep breath, trying to force myself to calm. I still had to deal with Macaire, and that would be no easy battle. “Then let’s get going,” I said, starting to walk toward a boat I had already chosen to use to cross the lagoon.

“There’s more, Mira,” Valerio said, stopping me in my tracks. I flinched, waiting for the news, but nothing could have prepared me. “Tristan’s here.”

I whipped around and pinned his with a dark stare that could have pierced straight through him. “What are you talking about? He can’t be here. I left him in Savannah.”

“Macaire has him.”

My stomach heaved as if I had been punched and I felt my knees go weak, threatening to send me to the ground. “How long?” I whispered in a broken voice.

“Mira, you can’t blame yourself. He—”

“How long, damn it? How long?” I shouted, sending my voice echoing through the vast nothingness of the night. I didn’t care who heard me or what they thought. Macaire had Tristan again, and I hadn’t been there to stop him. I hadn’t been there to save him again from the court.

“It sounds as if he was here since our first night in Budapest. He’s been here several nights at Macaire’s mercy.”

Mercy . Macaire didn’t know the meaning of the word. I had no doubt that Macaire had taken advantage of Tristan’s weakened and fragile state following the death of Lily to torture the nightwalker. I was just afraid to see what I would find when I finally reached the coven. I clenched my teeth and tightly balled my fists as I fought back the scream of frustration and anger. Tristan had never reached out to me for help. I had never sensed that he was in any kind of danger. I should have known that Macaire would strike someone from my home while I was away. I should have known and done something.

Blinking back angry tears, I boarded the boat and turned the engine over. I was only vaguely aware of Valerio boarding the boat, while Danaus untied us and jumped in as well. I shot across the whitecapped waves in a flash, cutting across the water with single-minded determination. Macaire would pay. He would pay with his life for nearly killing me, Danaus, Stefan, and Valerio. He would pay for the hours of torture that he undoubtedly put Tristan through because of me.

We crossed the lagoon in a matter of minutes and I circled to the back side of the island to dock at the small stone landing closest to the Main Hall. I paused only long enough to kill the engine before I jumped off the boat. Walking down the path, the glass in a nearby lamppost exploded into flames. My energy snapped and flowed around me as I no longer attempted to rein in my temper. It poured into the other energies I could feel in the air from the nightwalkers nearby. I didn’t need to access any of it. For the first time in my existence I felt as if I was fully in tune with my abilities.

Two narrow rows of flames lit the sides of the path, flickering suddenly into life as they led us toward the Main Hall. I walked between the fiery lanes, clenching and unclenching my fists. I was going to kill him. I didn’t know how, but before this night was I out, I knew I would be holding his heart in my hand.

“Mira, you can’t just attack him,” Valerio said, following close behind me. “He’ll rip your head off. He’s stronger and older than you by centuries. You have to be careful about this.”

“We’re beyond careful.”

“I’m here for you,” Danaus volunteered, but I just laughed.

“You’re not to do a thing. I will handle Macaire alone.”

“Mira—” Danaus started, sounding unsure for the first time, and then his voice firmed again. “My abilities are at your disposal.”

That was somewhat reassuring. I would have tapped his powers whether he wanted me to or not, but it was nice to know that at least now he was willing to aid me in this battle, even if it was only from a distance.

As I mounted the stone stairs to the Main Hall, Danaus and Valerio stepped ahead of me and pulled the massive wood and iron doors open. I marched through the long foyer, sending candles sputtering into life as I passed. The second set of doors swung open of their own accord as I reached them.

On the dais, Jabari, Elizabeth, and Macaire sat in their chairs, appearing calm and regal as always. Meanwhile, I was windblown and looking as if I had crawled from the pits of Hell to confront them in all my fury. They were the Old World, with their old traditions and old schemes. I felt as if I were purely a force of nature, ready to rain down my terror on all of them. But for now all my energies were going to be focused on one smug face. He didn’t think I would dare to confront him head on because of his age and powers. I was more than happy to prove him wrong.

“Where is he?” I growled as I marched across the enormous hall. Overhead, the candles in the crystal and gold chandelier exploded into life. The bright light reflected in the black marble floor under my feet and sent shadows scurrying into the far corners of the room. Around me, I could sense more than two dozen nightwalkers gathered along the walls, watching my long march into the room, but I didn’t see them. My narrowed gaze never wavered from Macaire.

“And who are you referring to, my dear?” he inquired.

I mounted the stairs and grabbed the front of his suit jacket. I started to fling him out of his chair, hoping to throw him onto the floor, but the bastard disappeared from my hands. He instantly reappeared behind me, straightening his jacket.

“You know who I want,” I snarled, starting to come back down the stairs. “Where is Tristan?”

“Oh, that young one,” Macaire replied, his smile returning. He waved his hand and a pair of nightwalkers slipped through a door at the side of the hall. I was sorely tempted to follow, but I forced myself to remain standing in the hall. I wasn’t about to let Macaire out of my sight for a second if I could help it.

“You know, considering your struggles with the nightwalkers, warlock, and naturi, I grew concerned that you weren’t going to make it out alive, so I thought it would be best if I went to fetch the boy. Sadira had been so concerned about him. She was sure that he wouldn’t be able to survive on his own.”

As he spoke, the fire in the candles overhead increased. Wax rained down, creating a sickening sound as it hit the marble floor. Flags that hung from the ceiling erupted into flames and nightwalkers screamed in terror as they scrambled frantically away from the fire.

Close the doors! No one leaves, I directed Valerio, knowing he could use his powers to hold the doors shut. I didn’t know who was responsible for Tristan’s torture beyond Macaire, but I would be sure that everyone witnessed this fight. I wanted to be sure that everyone understood that I was a force that was not to be messed with.

The side door opened again and two nightwalkers dragged a limp Tristan between them. His brown hair was matted and knotted and his clothes were in disarray. I scanned over him as I ran to his side. I could find no physical injuries beyond a handful of scratches. Of course, it wasn’t bodily harm that had me concerned. The two nightwalkers dropped him near the center of the room and retreated again to the side, putting as much distance between me and them as possible.

Sliding to my knees before Tristan, I helped him sit up, cupping his face in both of my shaking hands. “Tristan, look at me,” I said, pushing the words past the lump in my throat. His gaze continued to dance around the room as if he were struggling to process his surroundings. “Please, Tristan, I need you to look at me.”

After another couple of seconds I finally got him to look at me, but his gaze was vacant and lost, as if he weren’t truly seeing me. Lines of pain and horror were etched deeply into his face, scarring and aging him by nearly countless years. My handsome, young Tristan looked as if he were trapped in a perpetual nightmare from which there was no escape.

“Tristan, it’s Mira,” I said, forcing my voice to firm. “Please, look at me and tell me you recognize me. Talk to me, Tristan. I’m going to take you home.”

“No!” he screamed, jerking out of my grasp. He crawled across the floor a few feet before curling up in the fetal position in the middle of the floor. I heard someone snicker, and she immediately erupted into flames. Her screams of pain faded into the background as I crawled over to Tristan and pulled him into my lap as best I could. My heart was breaking into a million jagged pieces as I held my wounded Tristan.

“Why don’t you want to go home?”

“She’s there. She’s waiting for me. She’s going to kill me,” he said in a trembling voice.

“Who?”

“The Fire Starter,” he whimpered. “She’s going to kill me.”

“I’m not going to kill you, Tristan. I want you to come home with me. I will keep you safe. Macaire will never touch you again.”

Tristan violently shook his head from side to side. “No, Macaire will protect me. The Fire Starter is going to kill me.”

“No, Tristan. I won’t hurt you,” I said, forcing back a swelling of tears. I wasn’t reaching him. He didn’t see me. He was lost in his fear of the Fire Starter, his mind locked in the horrible world that Macaire had created for him.

“Fire Starter is going to kill me. Fire Starter. Killed her daughter. Killed little Lily,” he murmured as tears streaked down his pale face.

“No, Tristan. It wasn’t your fault,” I argued as tears started to slip down my own face. “Lily’s death wasn’t your fault. You know that. I would never harm you.” I carefully maneuvered him so he was seated on the floor again with his face in my hands. I tried to get him to look me directly in the face, but it was as if I wasn’t really there. But in truth, he was the one that wasn’t there. He wasn’t truly in the Main Hall. He was locked in a never-ending nightmare surrounding Lily’s death.

Closing my eyes, I plunged into Tristan’s mind. His thoughts were a swirling chaos of fragmented memories. Nothing flowed in a natural order. The only constant was the vision of Lily’s death running over and over again in his mind like a broken record. I could find no sliver of Tristan’s conscious mind left. His sense of identity had been completely shattered, and that all that was left was a shell of fear and pain.

I pulled out of his mind and wrapped my arms around him in a fierce hug. I had failed him. I had promised to protect him and keep him safe from nightwalkers like Macaire. “I’m so sorry,” I cried, choking on the words as they crashed over the silence of the hall. “I am so sorry.”

There was no way to save him. There was nothing left of Tristan to save. He was trapped for the rest of his existence in a world of pain and horror. He believed that the one person that would defend him was going to kill him. He believed that Macaire was going to protect him, when the Elder was only going to add to his terror at every turn. I couldn’t save him.

Roughly wiping away the tears with the heel of my palm, I pulled Tristan away from where he was curled against me. I forced him to face me again and gave him a hard shake in frustration. “Tristan, look at me!” I ordered in a rough voice. “It’s Mira. Look at me. It’s Mira and I want to take you home.”

Tristan just shook his head, looking anywhere but at me as he whimpered softly in pain. A flicker of recognition would have stopped me. Just a glimmer of the old Tristan that would have indicated I might have been able to draw him out again. But there was nothing left.

Shoving to my feet again, I stalked toward Macaire drawing knives from my sides. With amazing speed I flung them at him, hoping that at least one would hit its mark before the bastard disappeared. I just needed to score a minor hit. Something to slow him down a bit so I could get a tiny edge.

“No!” Tristan screamed to my surprise. I watched as the spinning knives came to a sharp halt a mere inches away from Macaire as he stood before his chair. The blades hovered in the air, reflecting the shifting candlelight.

I turned around to find Tristan kneeling on the ground with one hand extended out toward Macaire. He was holding the knives steady in the air, his face twisted with fear. “You cannot harm him. He is my only protection from the Fire Starter!”

“He’s trying to destroy you,” I screamed in frustration as I grabbed more knives. I threw them at Macaire as well, but they hit the same invisible barrier. I was stunned that Tristan could stop any of them, considering how weak and fragile he was, but I could feel the fear radiating off him in sickening waves. It was enough to give him the strength to push on.

“He is my savior,” Tristan said. He waved his hand once and I turned toward Macaire in time to see the knives shooting back across the room at me. Running a few steps, I dove forward and rolled into a kneeling position. Three of the knives clattered against the floor while the fourth embedded itself in my back.

Macaire’s laughter echoed through the hall, pushing me past any rational thought. Not only had he tortured Tristan, shattering the poor creature’s mind, but he had turned him against me. Still kneeling on the ground, I twisted around and threw out my right arm, sending out three fireballs hurling toward the Elder.

Again Tristan’s desperate, terrified scream tore at the air. Pushing off the ground, he ran across the room and threw his body in front of the fireballs in an effort to protect Macaire. I didn’t have enough time to stop it. The flames pounded him square in the chest, engulfing him for a full second before I could extinguish them. He flopped to the ground, twitching and writhing in pain as all his exposed flesh was scorched by the flames.

I pulled the knife out of my back as I rose to my feet and walked over to where Tristan lay on the ground. His wide eyes stared up at the ceiling as tears ran down his burned cheeks. He didn’t see me any longer. He didn’t recognize the love I felt for him. There was only the pain and the horror that Macaire had manufactured in his mind. Tristan was locked in that world now.

The only thing I could give him was release from the pain. I could give him peace. Gritting my teeth, I placed my left hand on his right shoulder and plunged my right fist into his chest. I pulled his heart out as quickly as I possibly could so I wouldn’t cause him any more pain than he was already suffering. He slumped against me as I cradled his heart against my chest. His cool blood ran down my arm and dripped from the edge of my elbow onto the hard marble floor. I bowed my head and rubbed my lips against his soft hair as fresh tears rained down my cheeks. I had lost my dear, sweet Tristan, and Macaire had forced me to kill him in an effort to spare him from any more pain. I had lost my sweet Tristan and it was my fault because I hadn’t been there to protect him.

Danaus walked over and knelt beside us. He gently laid Tristan down on the floor, straightening out his legs and folding his arms over his chest. I slipped his heart under his folded hands. I wiped away my tears, smearing his blood across my cheeks. I was ready to kill Macaire now. I was ready to kill them all.