She could sense him, but for once he didn't answer. She felt his sudden fear, his own desire to run and hide. He hadn't meant to show her these things. They were being forced out of him by the same power that was dragging at Jez.
I'm sorry. I didn't mean to look, she thought to him. I'll go away....
No. Suddenly he wasn't hiding anymore. No, I don't want you to go. I want you to stay.
Jez felt herself flow toward him, helplessly. The truth was that she didn't know if she could turn away even if he'd wanted her to. She could feel his mind touching hers-she could taste the very essence of his soul. And it made her tremble.
This was like nothing she'd ever felt before. It was so strange... but so wonderful. A pleasure that she couldn't have dreamed of. To be this close, and to be getting closer, like fire and bright darkness merging ... To feel her mind opening to him...
And then the distant echo of fear, like an animal screaming a warning.
Are you insane? This is Morgead. Let him see your soul... pry open your innermost secrets... and you won't live long enough to regret it. He'll tear your throat out the instant he finds out...
Jez flinched wildly from the voice. She didn't want to resist the pull to Morgead any longer. But fear was shivering through her, poisoning the warmth and closeness, freezing the edges of her mind. And she knew that the voice was the only rationality left in her.
Do you want to die? it asked her point-blank.
Jez, Morgead was saying quietly. What's wrong? Why won't you let it happen?
Not just you dying, the voice said. All those others. Claire and Aunt Nan and Uncle Jim and Ricky.
Hugh...
Something white-hot flickered through her. Hugh. Whom she loved. Who couldn't fight for himself. She hadn't even thought of him since she'd entered Morgead's mind-and that terrified her.
How could she have forgotten him? For the last year Hugh had represented everything good to her.
He'd awakened feelings in her that she'd never had before. And he was the one person she would never betray.
Jez, Morgead said.
Jez did the only thing she could think of. She threw an image at him, a picture to stir his memories. a picture of her walking out, leaving the gang, leaving him.
It wasn't a real picture, of course. It was a symbol.
It was bait.
And she felt it hit Morgead's mind and clash there, and strike memories that flew like sparks.
The first meeting of the gang with her not there. Questions. Puzzlement. All of them searching for her, trying to find a hint of her unique Power signature on the streets. At first laughing as they called for her, making it a game, then the laughter turning into annoyance as she stayed missing. Then annoyance turning into worry.
Her uncle Bracken's house. The gang crowded on the doorstep with Morgead in front. Uncle Bracken looking lost and sad. "I don't know where she is. She just-disappeared." And worry turning into gut-wrenching fear. Fear and anger and sorrow and betrayal.
If she wasn't dead, then she'd abandoned him. Just like everyone else. Just like his mother.
And that grief and fury building, both perfectly balanced because Morgead didn't know which was the truth. But always with the knowledge, either way, that the world was cold because she was gone.
And then... her appearing in his room today. Obviously alive. Insultingly healthy. And unforgivably casual as she told him he would never know why she'd left.
Jez felt Morgead's outrage swelling up, a dark wave inside him, a coldness that felt no mercy for anyone and only wanted to hurt and kill. It was filling him, sweeping everything else away. Just being in contact with it started her heart pounding and shortened her breath. Its raw violence was terrifying.
You left me! he snarled at her, three syllables with a world of bitterness behind them.
I had to. And I'll never tell you why. Jez could feel her own eyes stinging; she supposed he could sense how it hurt her to say that. But it was the only thing that would work. The pull between them was weakening, being smashed away by his anger.
You're a traitor, he said. And the image behind it was that of everyone who'd ever betrayed a friend or a lover or a cause for the most selfish of reasons. Every betrayer from the history of the human world or the Night World. That was what Morgead thought of her.
I don't care what you think, she said. You never cared, he shot back. I know that now. I don't know why I ever thought differently.
The force that had been trying to drag them together had thinned to a silver thread of connection. And that was good-it was necessary, Jez told herself. She made an effort and felt herself slide away from Morgead's mind, and then further, and then further.
You'd better not forget it again, she said. It was easier to be nasty when she couldn't feel his reactions. It might be bad for your health.
Don't worry, he told her briefly. I can take care of myself. And you'd better believe I'll never forget.
The thread was so fine and taut that Jez could hardly sense it now. She felt an odd lurch inside her, a pleading, but she knew what needed to be done.
I do what I want to, for my own reasons, she said. And nobody questions me. I'm leader, remember?
Snap!
It was a physical sensation, the feeling of breaking away, as Morgead was carried off on a wave of his own black anger. He was retreating from her so fast that it made her dizzy....
And then her eyes were open and she was in her own body.
Jez blinked, trying to focus on the room. She was looking up at the ceiling, and everything was too bright and too large and too fuzzy. Morgead's arms were around her and her throat was arched back, still exposed. Every nerve was quivering.
Then suddenly the arms around her let go and she fell. She landed on her back, still blinking, trying to gather herself and figure out which muscles moved what. Her throat stung, and she could feel dampness there. She was giddy.
"What's wrong with you? Get up and get out," Morgead snarled. Jez focused on him. He looked very tall from her upside-down vantage point. His green eyes were as cold as chips of gemstone.
Then she realized what was wrong.
"You took too much blood, you jerk." She tried to put her usual acidity into the words, to cover up her weakness. "It was just supposed to be a ritual thing, but you lost control. I should've known you would."
Something flickered in Morgead's eyes, but then his mouth hardened. "Tough," he said shortly. "You shouldn't have given me the chance."