Sins & Shadows

Sylvie closed her mind as best she could. Falling into worship of Bran was dangerous, but falling for Lilith was just plain suicidal. She whimpered; her skin buzzed, caught between the two gods of Love. If she could have, she’d have crawled away and hidden. Du

“I want you to do something for me, lover,” she said.

Du

“No,” Bran said, but the kind of force Sylvie needed to hear in it was lacking. Lilith had lapped him on the field, taken the main bulk of his power into her. We, Sylvie thought bleakly, are losing.

“I need you to strengthen those lovely shields of yours,” Lilith said to Du

Clever, Sylvie thought. Du

“Bran, do something,” Sylvie said, even as Du

“Thank you,” Lilith said. “Keep it strong for me.”

Madness flashed in Du

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself—”

“Thought you weren’t big on obedience,” Sylvie said. Her body might be down for the moment, but never her mouth. “Thought you wanted independence of thought. Guess you’re not content with being the god of Love. Aiming for god of hypocrisy . . . ?”

“Du

“Don’t do it, Kevin,” Bran said.

Du

Self-preservation uncoiled fangs in her belly, chasing away some of the hapless admiration and dread. Bran had Du

Get up, her voice said. Will you let her win? When you beat her once already? Will you lie still while she kills you? Will you yield?

“Get up, then what?” Sylvie muttered, but the voice was not to be denied, even if it had no answer. She clambered to her feet, stiff, sore, her knees treacherous. She swayed.

“Hey, Grandma,” Sylvie slurred. “Got something to tell you. About genetics. About our blood.”

“I’ll see anything your blood hides soon enough,” Lilith said. “Spread out over the roof.”

Sylvie shrugged. “Probably. Your point?”

“I’m not so sure you’re mine after all,” Lilith said. “If you had any survival sense at all, you’d be trying to crawl away.” She smiled, thrust a casual hand out, and Sylvie’s legs were swiped out from under her.

Sylvie whimpered as she hit the rooftop again, banged her head. Again. She staggered back up to her feet, and said to Lilith’s back, “You’re soft, Grandma. Your enemy’s never fought back.”

Lilith’s spine went rigid. Sylvie laughed, high and strained. “But me . . . My enemies come at me from all directions, and I’m still standing. I’ve won. Every single time. Cedo Nulli. I will not yield. Not to you, not to anyone, not even to my own better instincts.”

Lilith raised a hand, plucked the gleaming spindle from her breast, and aimed it like an arrow at Sylvie.

Light flared, brilliant in the demiglobe of their world, and Sylvie watched it burn toward her. There really wasn’t any point in ru

The sudden impact of warmth and weight, rolling her across the roof, left her gasping and stu

“Bran?” she said. Du

“Help me,” Bran said, a breath in her ear. “I need something of yours.” His arms cradled her head, his body nestled against hers; his skin was velvet heat beneath her clutching hands.

She’d wondered how Bran could stand to be held by a god, to feel that power thrumming against his skin. Now she knew. Being so close to a god, to this god, was . . . pleasant. Definitely pleasurable.

“Anything,” she said, all instinct and desire, then shrugged, a shred of rationality struggling through. “Though I haven’t got anything left.”

His hands stroked her neck, her nape, traveling down her back. “This,” he said. “Give me this.” She shuddered, feeling his touch reach far deeper than just her skin.

The dark voice within her purred uncertainly, stopping and starting like a faulty engine.

“Give me this,” he repeated.

She hesitated—give him what? His touch was within her, but wanting what? She couldn’t tell. Everything in her throbbed to his presence.

“Sylvie, now. . . .” The determination in his voice decided her. Anything he wanted that badly could only be a good thing.

Yes, she thought. She didn’t have to say it aloud, not with him so close, within her skin. . . . He pulled, and Sylvie screamed as her entire soul woke to blazing pain.

If Sylvie had ever doubted the dark voice was hers, she didn’t any longer: As Bran tugged on it, it felt like he ripped free a piece of her soul.

Panting for breath, her eyes stinging with tears, she could only stare up at his face. His pretty-boy looks hardened. Something dark touched his eyes, something unforgiving. Black bloomed along his collarbone, like the butterflies had along his belly, though it was her doing, her soul’s design. A serpent coiled around his throat, tail to head, forked tongue flickering down from the divot in his collarbone.

The spell light from Lilith’s casting sucked into his skin all at once, and he stood, graceful, beautiful, and newly deadly with Sylvie’s borrowed strength of will.

Sylvie rolled to keep him in her sights. The sudden change raised the hairs on her neck. Lilith, grappling with Du

“Does it matter how you lost? Or just that you have,” Bran said. “I trusted you, Lilith. I believed you were my friend. You’re not capable of it. And if you can’t even be a friend, you sure as hell aren’t fit to be god of Love. As much as I hate the responsibility, you have to give it all back.”