Page 22 of A Lost Light

“Aahil is right,” the water weaver was telling Andy. “It takes some adjustment to calibrate travel. And…” they paused to glance at Aahil before continuing. “To keep from losing myself in my element. I can feel the ocean from here. It whispers to me.” They tilted their head, and their turquoise eyes glowed. “I think I could move it, if I wished. Call it to me.” Shaking themselves, they held out the orb to Dyre. “Be careful. I have a feeling the ancient one inside you may struggle.”

Dyre nodded once and took the orb. As usual, he was difficult to read. He showed not an ounce of hesitation or fear, his gauntly handsome face devoid of expression. But I thought he was hiding his true feelings. Perhaps the necromancer was more complex than we all assumed.

His fingers closed around the orb, and suddenly I wassureof that. I could feel him, somehow. Like a second (and maybe third?) presence inside my own mind. The faint whispers of a conversation that you could just barely overhear if you strained. Interest. Curiosity. Fear. Worry. Loneliness. Tenderness. And then thepowerslammed into me, dropping me to my knees.

Dyre released a slow, shaky breath as he stared at the ground. When he lifted his head, his eyes were pure black, glittering and cold. “There's so many of them,” he whispered, eyes scanningour surroundings, seeing things the rest of us couldn't see. “They're everywhere, calling out to me. They want torise.”

My legs shook as I pushed myself back up to my feet. I felt so strong. Sodetermined.I moved closer to Dyre without thinking, called to my master. Ready to do his bidding. If only he would hurry up and raise my brothers and sisters so we could carry out his will….

“Dyre,” Andy called out. “Whatever the fuck you're doing, you need to stop!”

A black aura hung over us all, invisible but heavy, pressing down, squeezing, compelling, leeching the life from the world. The others had closed ranks around Andy, instinctively protecting our witch, the heart of our family. But I was frozen, torn between the desire to see her safe and theneedto be with my maker.

My feet moved of their own accord, taking me closer to Dyre. His long red hair lifted in a breeze that touched only him, a blood-bright splash of color in a rapidly dulling world of gray. More darkness fell as Ambrose appeared at his back, wrapping his arms around Dyre's narrow waist and resting his head against the necromancer's back. “Hey sweetheart,” the boogeyman murmured. “Let go of the power,” he cajoled, his own dark shadow magic reacting to the artifact, amplified, curling around us all in hungry tentacles of fear. He could take over. Probably. Swamp Dyre's mind with nightmares and wrestle the orb from his hands.

But would that make Dyre react? Right now, the necromancer wasn't actuallyusingthe dark magic that pulsed around him. If he felt he was in danger, he might accidentally do something awful. Like raise every dead thing within miles. Or tap into Sunny's hunger and start feasting on souls.

And he would never forgive himself for harming the others. Not my sweet, powerful, self-loathing master. The thoughts were absurd. I knew that. And yet….

I shuffled closer. One step. Another. A faint glow began to suffuse the darkness, a warm, fuzzy gold among the shadows. There was a yearning in me. A call to mend what the dark being had just thrown out of balance.

Moving through the murk of black magic that poured off from Dyre and Ambrose was like wading through a river with a strong current. But I kept going, the glow around me increasing until I stood before Dyre, and he had to squint those black eyes against the radiance of angelic magic that poured off my outstretched wings.

“Elijah,” he said, his deep voice more resonant than ever, full of dark promise and command. I shuddered, waiting for his orders, even as I felt my own magic reaching for him, my wings arching up and forward, wrapping around the man who had given me a second chance at life.

“Master,” I whispered, my arms going around his neck as Ambrose released him into my embrace. I enfolded Dyre in my wings, hiding us both from everyone around us.

The artifact thudded to the ground, and I kicked it out of the way so I could press closer, so I could hold the slender, fragile body of this immensely powerful being against my own. Dyre's long arms wrapped around my waist, and he buried his face in the crook of my neck. He was taller than me, even in my newly shaped and molded body, but he hunched over, curled around the darkness in his core.

“Sunny?” I whispered, concerned about the battle that seemed to be raging inside my creator.

“It burns,” the ancient wraith hissed against my neck. “The light. It hurts.”

I nodded. “I know. I'm sorry. But I can't let you make Dyre do something he'll regret.”

Fingers dug into my back, and I was immensely grateful my master didn't have claws, like some of our other companions, as he clung to me. “Make it stop.”

His deep voice was rough and broken, but it wasDyrewho spoke. Not Sunshine. Taking in a deep breath, I made a massive effort and pulled my magic back inside myself.

“Well,” Andy said, her voice shaky, coming from somewhere behind us. “At least we know no one stands a fucking chance against us if we have to hand the damned artifact off to Dyre. Fuck that was… well, justfuck.”

I didn't think Dyre was the only one she had to be afraid of. My own magic was every bit as powerful as my superiors in the choir had been afraid it would one day be, back when I was alive. I could have manipulated them all, reached out and toyed with the soul spark of every being in this meadow just now. And they couldn't have stopped me.

Only the necromancer could command me. And yet he had no interest in that, even with the limitless power of the orb singing through his dark veins.

Dyre's grip on me loosened, and I felt the first inkling of embarrassment over my strange thoughts and behaviors. I moved back slightly, allowing space between us once more, though my wings still arched around us in a curtain of sparkling light. Dyre's violet eyes regarded me from inches away as his cool hands came to rest on my hips.

“Are you okay?” the terrifying necromancer asked in a hushed whisper.

I huffed a laugh as I shook my head. “I'm fairly certain I should be askingyouthat, necromancer. And yet… I already know the answer. I suspect you do too?” I could feel him still, throughwhatever strange bond we shared. And I suspected he had an even clearer read on me. Since I was his creation.

He closed his eyes in a long blink before letting out a sigh and meeting my gaze again. “Yes.” His intense gaze searched my face for a moment as we completely ignored the chaos and questions around us, hidden away in our glowing shelter. “I was hoping you couldn't feel it,” he murmured with a wry grimace. “The bond. I'm sorry.”

I placed my hand on his chest, over his sluggishly beating heart. “You gave me life. I can hardly be angry at a few… side effects.”

He covered my hand with his own, and it felt oddly right somehow. “A permanent bond with a creepy necromancer is hardly aminorside effect. I should have thought about the implications before I offered to do the spell. Now you're stuck with me. Withus. Forever.”

I knew I should see a problem with this. Any other angel in my position would probably be fainting from themoral implicationsof being tied to anabominationlike Dyre. Let alone from the fact that I was a ghost inhabiting a corpse that didn't belong to me. But I couldn't find it in me to be repulsed.

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