A Mermaid's Ransom (Daughters of Arianne 3)

Jonah lifted a shoulder. "There are times justice must take a different path. What guides us is balance. As she said, until the past several days, he's never known anything else but evil and death. Now, thanks to my daughter, he has. He is not pure evil, with no interest in being more than that. I think you and I both sense that." Jonah held the gaze of the Bentigo commander. "I believe that he could be and do something different with his life, if he had the chance. We can't get back the harm he's done, but if he's willing to change who he is, help and save others, then by killing him, we lose his attempt to balance the scales. One life cannot pay back sixty-two lives, not unless he has the chance to save the lives of three times sixty-two souls. And my daughter's gift is not a light matter to be dismissed, either. I do not exonerate him from his crimes. He will pay for them. But let him pay a different way."

As Seneth shifted, Jonah did as well. In a blink Alexis felt the energy alter between the two groups. Marcellus and David became far more alert, and Jonah's hand was now resting with deceptive casual-ness on his sword hilt. "I advise you to give us this opportunity," her father continued in the same reasonable tone. "You know we are honorable. I do not believe the lives lost to the Fen should go unanswered. Trust us to make sure that amends are made. But give us his life."

Seneth looked toward the Fen chief. The tribal leader seemed to have a dialogue of body language with the others, a rapid communication Alexis couldn't follow, since her own tensions had drawn up in a knot, blocking all others. At length, the leader surprised her by walking forward and looking directly at her. "Give us her life instead."

The slide of steel from three scabbards was swift, but not as swift as the response within the circle. Naked and bloody, Dante hit the circle's edge closest to the Fen so hard the binding flashed in reverberation. Seneth's angels moved to block him, though the circle held. Barely. Lex noted a strain to Mina's expression that suggested his impact had taken its toll on even the witch's strength. But Dante's gaze never left the Fen chief, even as the electrical current of the circle's edge sparked in front of him.

"You touch her, you scratch her, you make one move toward her, and nothing will hold me away from you. You will join your wives, sisters and mothers."

The escalation to combat was something she'd never experienced, but in that heartbeat, she felt Seneth's protectors preparing for full engagement, as well as her father. The only ones who weren't were the Fen.

The Fen leader held Dante's gaze. After a weighted pause, he nodded, as if he'd received an answer. He raised his hands, apparently a gesture indicating his next words would be of import. The Fen behind him stilled, as did the Bentigo, the only movement the rustle of the leathery wings as the wind strengthened. The myriad emotions sweeping Alexis came from all directions. Violence, sadness, fear, anger, hatred. The hushed moment was so significant, she could almost feel the universe holding its breath, waiting for the decision.

When the Fen leader spoke, his face might have been carved from stone. His voice was wooden. "When evil becomes something good, the weapon has two edges." He lifted his spear, gestured to the bladed end. "One day, you will know what you took from us. Not in your mind. In your soul, your heart. When that day comes, you will prefer to die a thousand deaths than face what you are."

His gaze turned from Dante, toward Alexis. "Because all worlds are just, it is when you love her the most that Fate will take her from you, as payment for what you have done to us. And that loss will have the power of sixty-two broken hearts, to shatter your soul three times sixty-two times."

The words died away on the knoll, echoing among the silent audience. The chief nodded to Jonah. "Take him from our world and never let him return. We will mourn our dead."

Thirty-one

WHEN Mina brought them back to their world, she transported them to Machanon. Though Lex was worried about Dante's injuries, she noted his wounds were healing already, most of what the Bentigo had inflicted upon him tender red lines only, not open wounds. Even so, she noted he held himself stiffly, and suspected he needed blood.

It made her wonder about the wounds that couldn't be seen, the ones that were usually more severe than anything that could be done to the flesh. Was it possible to heal such wounds, when the salt of slain innocents had been rubbed into them sixty-two times?

She was sure that thought was uppermost in more minds than hers. The mood was somber. Though she'd succeeded in bringing Dante back, this couldn't feel like a victory to any of them. The angels spent their entire existence protecting the innocent, not those who harmed them. Yet they had stood with her, been willing to fight the Bentigo, who were creatures of the Light as well.

The angels are rarely wrong . . .

When they arrived on the outer bailey of the Citadel and oriented themselves to their return, she saw Dante's gaze alight on the Garden of Eden. It was a distant roll of green, the silver blue of the river winding through it, the rainbow a ribbon stretched over it that never faded. She'd wanted to take him there. Had her own yearning toward it tugged his subconscious in that direction now, or was he just focusing on something lovely and clean, trying to manage what had happened?

He took a seat on the parapet, his back to them all, and a stillness settled over his shoulders. Visibly, it was as if he'd turned to stone, a permanent gargoyle seeking the horizon for answers, but Lex could feel the powder keg of his emotions. She wanted to go to him, but instead, Raphael's hand fell upon her, and it was backed up by Jonah shifting in between them.

"Let him heal you first," Jonah said quietly, brushing a knuckle against her cheek to temper his words. "You're about to fall down, Seabird."

She just wanted to touch Dante, see his eyes for one second, but then he spoke in her head. Go with them, Lex. I will wait here. He's right.

As she hesitated, torn, Raphael touched her arm. "We can go inside the turret right here. You'll be less than twenty feet from him."

She wondered, because looking at that wide back, she suspected Dante was much further away, perhaps as far away as the Dark One world.

RAPHAEL healed the break and strengthened her with an infusion of light energy that cleaned out the damaging effects of the smoke and fire. However, as he pressed his palms on her chest and back, his attention focused on whatever he sensed going on inside of her, she felt his concern, the dissipation of his usual cheerful aura.

Lex glanced up at him. "It's permanent, isn't it?"

Raphael pressed his lips together. "It's difficult to have a patient that can read her healer's emotions."

&n

bsp; "I've been tired since I came back." Lex raised a shoulder. "The Dark One atmosphere would have destroyed any of you. Dante's protection helped me survive, but it didn't make me entirely immune to it, did it?"

"No." He held her gaze. "The damage is irreversible. I wasn't certain when you returned from the Dark One world. I needed time to see the rate of recuperation of your body's systems. There was some marginal improvement, but it's not enough. You'll be more susceptible to injury. That's why your wing broke again so easily. Your lung capacity has been reduced by a third. And your muscle weakness . . . if you rest, convalesce properly, receive regular treatments from me, as well as blood from your vampire, it won't degrade rapidly, but it will continue. Your life span . . ." He stopped.

Closing her hand on his wrist, Alexis managed a weary smile. "Might as well just say it."

"Your life span has likely been cut in half." He grimaced. "However, I cannot say how dour a prediction that is. Unlike your mother, who we know will live until three hundred unless she's injured, or your father, who would have to be struck out of the sky, we don't know how long you'll live, because your blood falls somewhere in between them. I just know it will be less than any of us want."

Alexis swallowed. "Well, isn't that the way it always is? I can still have children, right?"

"Childbearing is an enormous strain that may exacerbate your symptoms. It's--"

"Raphael." Her grip tightened. "Can I still have them?" Her gaze flicked toward the outer bailey, where her father was standing, speaking to several of his captains. Raphael followed her look. He sighed.

"Yes. You can still have them."

"Okay." Lex took a deep breath, wrapping her mind around it. A glance toward the wall showed Dante still in statue-mode, thank Goddess, because that meant he likely wasn't listening in. "You're a Full Submission angel, right?"

Raphael nodded.

"Can you block everyone out there, including my father and Dante, from hearing what we're doing or saying in here?"