The Supernaturals of Las Vegas Books 1-4

by Carrie Harris

  “There you are, Citrine,” said a melodious voice from behind her.

  It couldn’t be, but it was. How had Ilimitaine found out they were there? She would have asked, but she couldn’t. She heard a snarly noise next to her and knew it was Derek, but she couldn’t turn her head to see what was going on. She couldn’t focus. Couldn’t breathe. She was going to die…

  Just as the world began to narrow around her, the pressure eased just enough for her to gasp. Somewhere close by, Derek snarled.

  “By all means, take us down.” Ilimitaine sounded completely unruffled. “But know this. If you destroy me, you will never release the illusions that are holding Citrine and your kin. They will be stuck like this. Forever. Do you think they will be grateful to you for that? If so, please do strike.”

  Citrine forced the words out, gasping for breath between each one. “Leave…him…alone!”

  The king laughed.

  “I’m afraid that is quite impossible. If I did that, then anyone might take it into their heads to trespass in my castle and kill my courtiers. Benveniste was getting a bit tiresome, true, but that doesn’t mean that I can allow this insult to go unanswered. I am just happy that I was able to catch wind of it before it was too late. My dearest Ben thought he was so subtle, but he was about as subtle as a rock. I suppose that’s why you got along so well, mmm?”

  Citrine wanted to say something, but the bands around her body tightened anew the moment she opened her mouth. For a moment, she felt the wiry fur of Derek’s pelt. He’d shifted, and now he was pressed up against her, trying to offer her some comfort since he could no longer talk. She grasped at him, but then it felt like he faded away from beneath her hands. She knew it wasn’t real, that he was still there with her, but she couldn’t feel him. She couldn’t feel anything except for the crushing pressure all around her. It was like floating in an angry sea, where escape was impossible.

  She couldn’t help it. She began to weep, and then choked on her tears. Ilimitaine laughed again, and everything went dark.

  When she came to, she was on the familiar smooth tile floor of the arena. She was face down, her hair draped over her mouth and eyes. She kept them closed anyway, not wanting to betray to anyone watching that she was awake. Perhaps it would buy her precious seconds that would make all the difference. Or at least, if she was to be gutted by a ravening beast, she wouldn’t see it coming.

  First, she took a quick physical inventory. Her body hurt from thrashing about under Ilimitaine’s spell, but it didn’t feel like she’d broken anything. More than once, his illusions had caused her to break ribs, burst blood vessels in her eyes from screaming, or bleed from the ears. Once, she’d bitten off the tip of her tongue. But this time, he’d stopped before causing any damage. He wanted her intact, then. But for what?

  Her senses were restored, and now she put them to use. Although they weren’t as keen as Derek’s, maybe she could still learn something that she could use to her advantage. Like whether or not Derek was here with her. She couldn’t decide for a moment if she wanted that or not, because if he was gone, that would likely mean he was dead. He wouldn’t leave without her. She knew that for a fact.

  She heard agitated breathing just across the room and the click of nails on tile, but picked up on no other signs of life down here with her. The creature that made that sound would be big, about the size of Derek’s werewolf form. She dared to open her eyes just a sliver to confirm it.

  Derek paced along the opposite side of the circular arena in his wolfman form. He seemed unhurt but agitated. She hoped that Ilimitaine hadn’t found a way to make his magic work on the werewolf. He would force Derek to kill her and then leave him with the knowledge of what he’d done. It would break him more surely than anything else. She knew that.

  Something sat on the ground in front of Derek. A weapon, perhaps? She couldn’t see without moving her head, but she had to do it sometime. Ilimitaine was almost certainly sitting in his chair on the balcony high above, watching the show. She’d gained all of the information she could. Now it was time to use it.

  She lifted her head. The hushed murmur from the gathered audience indicated that the movement wasn’t lost on them, but she didn’t care. She was focused on the object on the floor, the one that seemed to be causing Derek so much agitation.

  It was the Wand of Doors.

  But that didn’t make sense at all. Why wouldn’t Derek just grab it? They could leave right now! She sat up cautiously, trying to figure out the twist. Surely, Ilimitaine had come up with one. He wouldn’t just give them a way out; she knew that to be true even though she might hope differently.

  She was in the center of the room. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw the shifterkin. An arc of colored sand separated them from the rest of the room. They cowered away from it as if afraid to touch it.

  Derek saw her move. He whined and paced back and forth in front of the wand, looking up at Ilimitaine’s balcony with a snarl of frustration. She wanted to ask him what was happening, but he wouldn’t be able to shift back to talk to her, as upset as he was. And she’d be damned if she asked Ilimitaine for anything. So she turned to the shifterkin.

  “What’s happening?” she asked.

  Jenny shot a nervous look up to the balcony, but Hex seemed too spitting mad to hold back her words.

  “That sadistic bastard,” she said. “He gave Derek a choice. He can take the wand and bring us home, but he has to kill you first. If any of us cross the line, we all die. If you touch the wand, we all die.”

  “It’s ridiculous,” said Jenny, straightening up with effort. “We’re not leaving you, Citrine. It’s not right.”

  “He can take his stupid choice and choke on it,” Hex agreed. “I could step over this line right now and end it all. Should I?”

  She inched toward the line, trying to work up the courage to do it. Citrine could see it on her face. She would do this, and they’d all die, and it would be for nothing. She took a step forward, but she couldn’t hold Hex back without crossing the line herself. The only thing she could do was argue, and argue she did.

  “Don’t do that!” she snapped. Hex stopped short, taken aback at the tone of voice. “I’m going to die anyway, right? At least let it be a merciful one. Derek will make it quick.”

  “That’s a good point,” Ilimitaine interrupted from above. “A revision, then. Her death must be slow and painful, Derek Ranier. She shall not be released from life until I say so. And if you refuse, your kin will undergo the same torture under my hands. I can guarantee that I will not be merciful.”

  Derek stopped, listening with clear comprehension. His eyes welled with a terrible sorrow, and he threw back his head and howled. Citrine couldn’t stand it. She took a single step toward him, but then held herself back. She couldn’t let Ilimitaine think she was going for the wand. He would take any excuse to push this confrontation in one direction or another.

  “Stop,” she begged. “It doesn’t matter. I choose this. I can take it. The end result is still the same. I’ll be gone either way, and I’d rather go knowing that you’re all still alive.”

  He shook his shaggy head. His yellow eyes bore into hers, and she could almost hear him protest that he couldn’t possibly leave her. That he would be with her until the end. There would be no reasoning with him, except maybe if she said one thing.

  “I love you,” she said simply. “Let me save you. Let me die knowing that I did that. Please.”

  Behind her, she heard sniffling, but she didn’t dare turn her head. She keep her eyes locked on Derek. He froze in her gaze, shrinking down into himself like maybe he could hide from this horrible duty. But what else was there to do? After a moment, he took one uncertain step toward her and howled again.

  “Derek, it’s okay. I love you,” said Citrine.

  He took another step toward her, his anguish evident in every line of his body. He whimpered once again. Citrine didn’t break eye contact. She wanted him to be the last thing
she saw.

  “Citrine, is that you?”

  The soft, dreamy voice cut through the arena like a knife. Citrine hadn’t heard it in years, but she would have recognized it anywhere. But the bearer of this voice didn’t speak. She hadn’t spoken in years, except to whisper in Ilimitaine’s ear, her words for him alone.

  “Mother?” said Citrine, tears choking her voice.

  She didn’t know why she was so emotional. Her mother had abandoned her all those years ago, standing woodenly by the king’s side as he dished out punishment after excruciating punishment. Queen Thelisyle hadn’t even seemed to notice what was going on. She was too wrapped up in her own gentle musings to care that her daughter was dying inch by inch right in front of her. But hearing her name come out of that mouth completely undid all of Citrine’s hatred. This was the most painful moment in a life full of pain, and she wanted her mother despite herself.

  “Ilimitaine, you must let them go,” said Thelisyle, putting her hand on Ilimitaine’s shoulder.

  Her skin was so pale that it was almost translucent, and her silver hair framed a face of childlike innocence. It was earnest now, filled with a life and vitality that Citrine could only dimly remember from her youth.

  For the first time Citrine could remember, Ilimitaine was at a loss for what to do. He gaped for a moment, trying to come up with something to say. Then he bent his head, his greenish hair falling about his perfect face, and kissed the hand on his shoulder.

  “Darling,” he said in a voice so gentle that Citrine could barely believe it was his. “Be at peace. I will take care of everything as I promised you. You needn’t worry about a thing.”

  The strangest thing about this situation was that Citrine believed every word he said. He seemed to honestly love her mother. Could it be another of his illusions? She didn’t think so. In her day, Thelisyle had been every inch the illusionist he was. Better, even. She wouldn’t be taken in by fakery. That didn’t make any of this better, but strangely, it comforted Citrine somehow. How could the king be such a monster to her if he truly loved her mother? Was that possible?

  “No.” Thelisyle’s voice sounded petulant. “She’s willing to sacrifice herself for him. It’s true love, Ilimitaine. True love just like ours. You cannot destroy that. It would be a sacrilege.”

  “Hush, now. Why don’t you go back to your rooms? I’ll meet you there in a bit, and we’ll take a stroll in the gardens. The lionflower is in bloom.”

  “Why, so you can let her die and say it was an accident?”

  Thelisyle drew herself up and stared daggers at him. She wasn’t much taller than her daughter, but her sudden fury made her larger than life. Ilimitaine shrank before her, looking completely taken aback. He’d never seen his wife in such a state. Neither had Citrine, and she was so shocked by it all that she could barely breathe. It was one of the few times when she and Ilimitaine were on exactly the same page.

  “Of course not,” said Ilimitaine.

  His urbane mask was back in place in an instant. Perhaps the queen had taken him by surprise, but he hadn’t maintained his hold on the throne for all of these long years by being slow witted. He rapidly adapted to this situation just as he had all of the others. Citrine’s heart sank. Her mother would be taken in by it, just like she had all of the other times. For a moment, she had hoped, but she knew how this would end.

  But she could do one thing with the moment of distraction her mother had gifted her. She reached out and took Derek’s paw-like hand in hers. The wiry fur poked at her skin, and he shifted his hand so his claws wouldn’t catch her. She kissed the back of his hand, which was foolish, because it only gained her a mouthful of fur. But she was glad she’d done it anyway.

  “Look!” Thelisyle raged. “You can’t tell me that you can look on them and not be moved.”

  Ilimitaine looked down at them, his brow furrowed. Citrine could see him trying desperately to figure out how to bring this situation back under his control. Or maybe she was wrong. Maybe he was honestly trying to understand what his wife was trying to tell him. But he couldn’t, and the frustration rankled him. He turned to face her, his mouth in a bitter twist.

  “Don’t you trust me?” he asked. “I know what they’ve been up to. They killed Benveniste, and for that they must pay. Let me take care of it, dearest heart, and stop taxing yourself so. You know how fragile your constitution is. I wouldn’t want to see you hurt.”

  “Killing my daughter would hurt me. You shall not do it! And quit treating me like a child! I am the queen, and my wishes will be heard!”

  With every sentence, the queen’s voice got louder and louder until it filled the room and shook the walls. Citrine clapped her hands over her ears, which helped, but not for long. The queen screamed in rage. A white light filled the balcony, so bright that it seared her eyeballs. Closing them did no good; it felt like her eyelids were burning. Derek crouched in a tiny ball, howling, his keen senses decimated by the laser-like light. The shifterkin weren’t much better.

  There wasn’t much time to act. Citrine reached across the forbidden line, grabbed the shifterkin, and dragged them over to where Derek crouched over the wand. A quick flick of her wrist opened the portal. She shoved Jenny through, pushing hard enough in her panic to send the older woman flying. Hex went next, stumbling through but managing to not lose her footing.

  “Come on!” she grabbed Derek by the arm, dragging him toward the portal.

  He was heavy, and although he tried to stagger along, it was difficult to steer him in the right direction without exposing himself to the light that still emanated from the balcony. From her mother. Citrine tried to look for her, but it was like staring into the sun. For all she knew, everyone else on that balcony had been vaporized.

  Grunting with effort, Citrine managed to push Derek through the portal. Now she was the only one left, and she knew she had to get through it quickly, before Ilimitaine could recover and stop them. The light began to fade as she hovered uncertainly at the bridge between the worlds, looking up toward her mother.

  “Thank you,” said Citrine. “C—come with me?”

  “No.” Thelisyle’s voice was sinking back into its gentle, dreamy tones again. “I cannot leave here. But go in peace.”

  “I love you,” said Citrine. She was getting used to those words. She rather liked saying them.

  “I know, daughter. I dream of you, every day. Now go.”

  Citrine stepped through the portal, her face streaked with tears. This rescue mission hadn’t turned out at all like she’d expected. It had hurt worse than anything ever had. But she’d gained so much.

  On the other side of the portal, the light winked out. She took a half step toward it, wanting to make sure that Thelisyle was okay. But she could hear voices on the other side, and she couldn’t afford to let any of the other fae through. She had to break the wand before that happened, or Derek and the shifterkin would never be safe.

  She hovered indecisively. But Thelisyle had proven that she was strong enough to take on Ilimitaine if necessary. She didn’t need Citrine. And Derek did.

  With a flick of her wrist, she closed the portal. Then, before she could think twice, she snapped the wand in half.

  Chapter 20

  The moment he stepped through the portal, Derek’s head cleared. The constant magical buzz of Faerie had nearly driven him mad. If he hadn’t had the shifterkin and Citrine to look after, he might have lost himself entirely.

  It was a frightening proposition. Mark had been a terrific alpha, a much needed father figure, and a good friend. But all of his skills hadn’t been enough to keep him sane. Jenny had been hurt by a demonspawn. Derek hadn’t been there to stop him, and Mark had lost his edge. His wolf took over and went crazy, tearing through the demonspawn and then through the rest of the pack. He’d stopped himself before he killed Jenny, but the damage had already been done. Mark had jumped off the building rather than face down what he’d done.

  Derek didn’t blame Mark. In
sanity was a well-known hazard of being a shifter. Sometimes Derek felt torn between what he knew was the logical choice and what his wolfish instincts told him to do. Sometimes it felt like the tension might rip him to pieces, and he inevitably wondered if that was what Mark had felt, moments before he broke. But now he knew that the everyday stresses he faced—even in his demanding line of work—were nothing compared to the strain of seeing the woman he loved in danger.

  His wolf still wanted blood. It hadn’t liked the constant magical bombardment of Faerie, and it hadn’t like seeing his woman and his kin in danger, and it thought someone should pay. It felt unsatiated and hungry, and it didn’t want to let go of the reins. Usually, changing between forms was easy for him, but not this time. It felt like he had to beat the wolf down and fight for control of his own body, and that fact left him shaken. Once he’d taken his human skin again, he crouched there for a moment until he was sure that he would remain him. His wolf stirred, more restless than it had ever been before.

  “Here.”

  Jenny’s motherly tones shook him back to himself. She handed him the jacket to her tracksuit to cover himself. He tied it on absently, looking around to see where Citrine had brought them. They stood in the same grassy patch they’d left from earlier, the one right near his office. It was evening now, and hopefully all of his business neighbors had gone home so they didn’t see him standing naked with three women. Nope, no luck there. The lady who ran Mighty Maids in the office just downstairs from him was getting into her car. She shot them a scandalized look and pulled out of the lot as fast as she could, like Derek’s nakedness might be catching. Under different circumstances, he might have laughed.

  “Thanks,” he said to Jenny. “You two okay?”

  Hex stepped up next to her. “Yeah. The slimy bastard didn’t lay a finger on us. Still, he was a scary thing. And his guard dog was a monster. I’m going to laugh in the face of the next person who tells me a pit bull is scary.” She rolled her eyes to show what she thought of all that nonsense.