Elf drew back and led him over to one of the seating areas on the balcony, gingerly helping him sit down on a chaise longue and lean back into the cushions. The loss of contact was almost physically painful.
Nico moved back to stand at the wall again, putting a few feet of distance between them.
“I did die at the hands of the Inquisition,” Deven said after a while. “I was dying on the floor of my cell, rotting from the inside out from infection, when a woman came to the prison and bought my freedom. She knew I wasn’t going to survive, so she brought me across—but doing that to someone already so weak should have killed me outright. She couldn’t even keep me unconscious for the transformation because I would never have awoken. I don’t know how I lived through that night, but I did.”
As he thought of Eladra and his years with the Order of Elysium, dizziness washed over him again with the onslaught of guilt, and he fought as hard as he could to push it away where it couldn’t destroy the tenuous balance the Elf had given him.
There was sorrow in Nico’s face as he said, just loudly enough to carry, “You have a strong heart.”
“Either that or I was too afraid of hell to die.” He didn’t really intend the words to come out as bitterly as they did, but the thought of Eladra brought the reasons for his mental breakdown back to the forefront of his mind, and it was hard, after all of that, not to get caught up in the emotions that went with it. He looked away from the Elf and shut his eyes a moment.
He didn’t hear footsteps, but Nico crossed the balcony and sat down beside him, and Deven felt the pressure of a hand on his forehead.
The pain vanished.
“Whatever the reason you survived,” Nico said, “I am grateful you did.”
The undeserved compassion, even affection, in the Elf’s voice was almost too much, but he managed to keep himself centered and said, “I should keep you around so you can zap me every time I get upset about something.”
A smile. “I would not normally intervene—difficult emotions have their place—but I am concerned that in the state you are in, dwelling too much in the past will shatter the energy matrix and we will be back at the beginning. I know how difficult the process has been for you and wouldn’t put you through that again unless I had to.”
“We need to change the subject, then.”
“I think it would be wise.”
“All right . . . tell me more about your home, Avilon . . . where is it?”
“Between,” Nico said. “It once existed here on earth, but when we were threatened with extinction, the Elders drew the Veil around it, essentially removing it from ordinary space and time. To leave it, or to return, one must cross through the Veil, an act requiring tremendous power now that the old portals are gone.”
“Did you know why I was calling?” he asked.
“Not at first. The Speaking Stone was in the Temple, locked away in a back room; no one had laid eyes upon it in decades. But the Acolytes were helping to move some old archives and artifacts from one room to another, and they found the stone, glowing red and pulsating. No one in the Temple knew what to do with it, so they brought it to me.”
“It just happened to be found when I was calling you? That’s one hell of a coincidence.”
Nico looked at him, amused. “Do you honestly believe in coincidence, my Lord?”
He had no answer for that. “Then what happened?”
“As soon as I touched the stone I could see you, and as shocked as I was to find out you existed—probably the only creature left on earth with enough of our blood to have our eyes—I knew immediately what was wrong, and I knew I had to help.”
Deven stared at him, unbelieving. “You were willing to leave your home and come to this world you knew nothing about, all alone . . . and then stay here for weeks to fix a broken-down vampire whose entire life has been devoted to death . . . just because I’m
Nico moved back to stand at the wall again, putting a few feet of distance between them.
“I did die at the hands of the Inquisition,” Deven said after a while. “I was dying on the floor of my cell, rotting from the inside out from infection, when a woman came to the prison and bought my freedom. She knew I wasn’t going to survive, so she brought me across—but doing that to someone already so weak should have killed me outright. She couldn’t even keep me unconscious for the transformation because I would never have awoken. I don’t know how I lived through that night, but I did.”
As he thought of Eladra and his years with the Order of Elysium, dizziness washed over him again with the onslaught of guilt, and he fought as hard as he could to push it away where it couldn’t destroy the tenuous balance the Elf had given him.
There was sorrow in Nico’s face as he said, just loudly enough to carry, “You have a strong heart.”
“Either that or I was too afraid of hell to die.” He didn’t really intend the words to come out as bitterly as they did, but the thought of Eladra brought the reasons for his mental breakdown back to the forefront of his mind, and it was hard, after all of that, not to get caught up in the emotions that went with it. He looked away from the Elf and shut his eyes a moment.
He didn’t hear footsteps, but Nico crossed the balcony and sat down beside him, and Deven felt the pressure of a hand on his forehead.
The pain vanished.
“Whatever the reason you survived,” Nico said, “I am grateful you did.”
The undeserved compassion, even affection, in the Elf’s voice was almost too much, but he managed to keep himself centered and said, “I should keep you around so you can zap me every time I get upset about something.”
A smile. “I would not normally intervene—difficult emotions have their place—but I am concerned that in the state you are in, dwelling too much in the past will shatter the energy matrix and we will be back at the beginning. I know how difficult the process has been for you and wouldn’t put you through that again unless I had to.”
“We need to change the subject, then.”
“I think it would be wise.”
“All right . . . tell me more about your home, Avilon . . . where is it?”
“Between,” Nico said. “It once existed here on earth, but when we were threatened with extinction, the Elders drew the Veil around it, essentially removing it from ordinary space and time. To leave it, or to return, one must cross through the Veil, an act requiring tremendous power now that the old portals are gone.”
“Did you know why I was calling?” he asked.
“Not at first. The Speaking Stone was in the Temple, locked away in a back room; no one had laid eyes upon it in decades. But the Acolytes were helping to move some old archives and artifacts from one room to another, and they found the stone, glowing red and pulsating. No one in the Temple knew what to do with it, so they brought it to me.”
“It just happened to be found when I was calling you? That’s one hell of a coincidence.”
Nico looked at him, amused. “Do you honestly believe in coincidence, my Lord?”
He had no answer for that. “Then what happened?”
“As soon as I touched the stone I could see you, and as shocked as I was to find out you existed—probably the only creature left on earth with enough of our blood to have our eyes—I knew immediately what was wrong, and I knew I had to help.”
Deven stared at him, unbelieving. “You were willing to leave your home and come to this world you knew nothing about, all alone . . . and then stay here for weeks to fix a broken-down vampire whose entire life has been devoted to death . . . just because I’m
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