by S. Young
Horror eclipsed all other emotions.
One by one, the lights in her apartment exploded.
“What the fuck!” Craig ducked as he spun to see the last, the ceiling light, burst into pieces.
The sun had already begun to rise, so the room was merely dull, not dark.
Her landlord turned to her, a terrified, vicious look on his face, and he grabbed her by the hair, pulling her toward him. “You’re a fucking witch!”
Astonishment flooded her.
He knew about supernaturals?
His grip on her hair tightened as spittle flecked from his lips. He snarled, “How the hell did I miss it?”
“Step back,” Rose warned.
“Oh no, no.” Craig shook his head. “I haven’t come across a witch in a long time. You’ll be useful to me, Rose.”
Wincing at the sharp tug on her head, Rose wrapped her hand around his wrist. “I said, step back.”
All she’d meant to do was tug his hand out of her hair.
That was it.
Instead, she gave it a jerk. A loud crack, followed by his scream, filled the apartment. Agony pervaded his features as he fell to his knees, clutching his broken wrist in his other hand.
Holy. Shit.
Rose stared at her hands.
Her strength … she didn’t know how to control it.
“You bitch!” Craig screamed.
The whole building would have heard, including the staff at the bakery below.
In a whirl of panic, Rose blurred across the room to the drawer by her bed where she kept her passport. Shoving her feet into her comfiest boots, she then grabbed her wallet and her phone, along with her jacket. Turning toward the door, she saw Craig was gone.
She pricked her ears and heard him stumbling down the staircase.
Damn.
Okay. You can do this, Rose. Just focus.
Concentrating on the building door, Rose blinked and she was beside it.
“Holy…,” she whispered. It worked. A strange giddiness flooded her before she remembered to worry about being seen using magic. Thankfully, none of her neighbors saw her pop out of thin air. Shaking with a mix of fear and excitement, she lunged out through the building’s door.
Fionn.
Fionn knew what she was and he was here in Zagreb.
Trust him or not, someone had to help her control her abilities. And maybe he could tell her if she’d killed Judd. There was still a possibility he’d had a heart defect.
God, she hoped so.
Rose concentrated on Fionn’s hotel room.
Just like that, she was in the middle of a street with a tram coming right toward her!
Sidewalk!
She stumbled as she popped onto the sidewalk, fearful as people startled at her sudden appearance, staring at her like she was a ghost.
Shaking with panic now, Rose whirled, trying to get her bearings. Why hadn’t she ended up in Fionn’s hotel suite? Was it too far? Were there limitations?
Nearest alleyway.
She fell against a trash can, landing on her ass in the smelly alleyway. Tears glittered in her eyes. What if she’d just broken some cardinal rule about using her abilities in front of humans?
Humans.
She wasn’t human anymore.
In fact, according to Fionn, she never had been.
For the longest time, Rose had felt a distance between her and everyone else … and now she knew why. Deep down, she’d always sensed she wasn’t one of them.
Shit, shit, shit.
Pushing up to her feet, hands trembling, Rose pulled the business card out of her back pocket along with her cell. Sucking in a deep breath, she dialed.
He picked up after the second ring. “Where are you?”
“From what I can guess, about five blocks from the hotel …” She glanced around and saw a sign on an exit door. “I’m in the alley behind Bar Zubec. I, uh, a lot of people just saw me pop out of thin air.”
The words barely left her mouth and Fionn Mór was in front of her.
Rose cried out, tripping over her feet and falling against the downed trash can again.
“How did you do it? I tried to ‘poof’ to your hotel suite from my place and ended up nearly being crushed by a tram.”
Fionn’s lips twitched with a surprising show of amusement. “You have natural abilities and powers, but like any gift or talent, it needs practice to stretch to its absolute limits. And traveling has limitations.”
“Traveling?”
He shrugged. “To shift from place to place. We’re the only beings on earth who have this ability. But you cannot think of a person and travel to where they are. It doesn’t work like that. You can think of a place within the city or town you’re in and go there.”
Rose frowned. “It’s like putting a wheel boot on a car. What’s the point in having the car?”
“It can prove very useful in a fight.” Fionn took a tentative step toward her. “Don’t worry about being seen using the ability. Humans always rationalize these things to make sense.”
“Okay.”
“Does this mean you’re ready to accept my help?”
Rose felt her skin prickle at his nearness, her awareness of him almost supernatural in its intensity. She tried to retreat but had nowhere to go. Lifting her chin in stubborn defiance of this weird pull toward him, she shrugged. “It seems like the logical thing to do at this point.”
More amusement flickered in his cold, stunning eyes. “How you stroke my ego, Rose.”
“Somehow I think you’ll live.” She brushed past him, needing a little distance. “So, what now?”
Fionn turned toward her, all amusement dying. “Give me your phone.”
Frowning at the request but deciding if she was going to trust him she couldn’t half-ass it, Rose handed over her cell.
Seconds later, as he crushed it into dust in his big fucking paw, she wished she hadn’t.
“What was that?” She lunged too late for the now-nonexistent phone.
“Your phone is the first thing enemies will use to track you.”
She glared at him. “I’m loving this so far. What next, oh wise one? Cut my hair, plastic surgery on my face?”
He ignored her sarcasm. “Nothing quite so drastic as that.”
“Then what?”
“Now … we get the hell out of Croatia.”
7
Although Fionn traveled light, he’d left his iPad and his other suit, which the hotel had just dry-cleaned, in his suite. Anticipation thrummed through his body as his long strides ate up the sidewalk. He threw Rose a quick glance as she hurried to keep up with him. She was staring straight ahead, expression alert, her delicate chin set with determination.
A thrill of possession eclipsed the anticipation.
Rose belonged to him now. The restless animal that was his fae told him so.
She was the final key in this long road to revenge.
Fionn turned away, feeling a flicker of unease that he attributed to the once-human man he’d been. It was a shame to kill the girl. So far, she’d impressed him with how easily the fae abilities were coming to her and how quickly she was adjusting to her new reality. The truth could derail weak minds, or send humans into histrionics that lasted an interminably long time.
Not Rose, though. She’d been skeptical, as anyone would be, but with insurmountable evidence piling up, she’d accepted the truth and moved on.
Moreover, she’d told him about the encounter with her landlord and how she’d had the good sense to grab her passport before fleeing the apartment after the man declared her a witch.
Which was why they would jump on the first flight to Barcelona as soon as he’d retrieved his things from the hotel.
“Why Barcelona?” Rose asked.
Fionn turned his head and looked down at her. She stared up at him with those striking light blue eyes. Most eyes had striations of several colors in them, but Rose’s only had two. The dominant color was a pale
blue; slightly darker blue striations bled out from the edges of the iris. Strangely, they reminded him of Cónán, the wolf he’d raised from cub when he’d been human. When he became king, they’d called him Rí Mac Tíre. The Wolf King, because of Cónán. He’d been loyal only to Fionn, and eventually Fionn’s family. Everyone else kept a wary distance from the wolf, and for good reason.
A small splinter in his chest made itself known before Fionn adamantly ignored it. It had been years since he’d thought of Cónán and the fae captain, Lir, who had killed him.
Before Fionn had made his escape from Faerie, he’d used An Breitheamh to end Lir. Cónán had been one of the few beings in this life Rí Mac Tíre had truly loved. He deserved justice.
Rose’s question and his thoughts of An Breitheamh brought Fionn back to the moment. “There’s something I need in Barcelona,” he responded. “And then we’ll make our way to Ireland.”
Before she could question him further, Fionn’s mobile rang. The screen said it was Bran. Wanting her to trust him, she had to think he was an open book. “It’s my associate, Brannigan. He’s a … researcher, for lack of a better word. He keeps me informed on anything of importance regarding the underworld we belong to.”
She nodded, her expression thoughtful, as she watched him put the phone to his ear.
“Hello.”
“Ah, you’re not alone if I’m getting a polite hello.” Bran’s amused voiced filled his ear.
“That is correct.”
Bran chuckled. “Is it the girl? Rose? Is she with you?”
“She is.” And considering she was fae, she could probably hear every word spoken between them. “I promised her I’d help. So … do you have any word about her birth parents?”
Catching on, Bran replied with a carefulness that was probably only obvious to Fionn. “For a start, William Kelly was born Cian Cosway, and Anna Kelly was born Rhiannon O’Connor.”
The vampire stressed the name O’Connor, and Fionn stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “As in the O’Connor Coven of Dublin?”
Rose tensed beside him.
“As in the O’Connor Coven of Dublin. Rhiannon is Rose’s aunt. Her mother was Valerie, the eldest daughter of the coven leaders and heir to the coven. I remember when Valerie and her husband, Lorcan, died. It was a big deal in the supernatural community because they did in fact die in a car crash. A pretty horrific one. Folks surmised at the time that it had to have all happened too quickly for such a powerful witch and warlock to have not escaped it.”
Fionn watched Rose’s face and saw her expression fill with sadness as she eavesdropped on their conversation. If they hadn’t been in public, Fionn would have just put the bloody phone on speaker. The fact that she could hear over the noise of the traffic told him her hearing was acute.
“They must have known,” Fionn said, studying his captive’s features. She had a slight sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose, so light he hadn’t noticed them until now. A tiny sparkling blue stud pierced the right side of her small nose. With her dark hair blowing back in the gentle breeze, he saw the cuff of her right ear was also pierced in several places.
“Aye,” Bran agreed. “There’s no way of knowing how they worked out Rose is one of the children. Perhaps even as a newborn she showed signs. A coven like the O’Connors would know of the legends and—”
“And they’d know her life was in grave danger,” Fionn cut in. “They sought to protect her.”
“Not just her. The O’Connors, unlike the Blackwoods, realize how dangerous it would be to open that gate.” There was more than a hint of rebuke in Bran’s tone. Fionn ignored it. It wasn’t like he was planning on letting the fae into this world. He wanted into Faerie. Aine had worded her spell very carefully. It allowed people to cross from Earth into Faerie to stay permanently. Which meant that gate would close behind him.
“Is there more?”
“There is.” Bran sounded grim now. “If you’re planning on going to Barcelona, I wouldn’t take the airport out of Zagreb.”
Fionn marched toward the hotel with more urgency and felt Rose hurry to follow him. “Why not?”
“Because I’ve hacked into the security cameras and used face recognition tech. Not only did it alert me to several known lackeys of the Blackwood Coven walking through the airport like the guard dogs they are …”
“Lone wolves.” Fionn sneered. The Blackwoods were known for paying supes to do their dirty work.
“Yep. But they’re not alone. There are members of the Garm waiting at the airport. So I hacked into the train stations’ security cameras, and both the Blackwoods and the Garm have supes at every one of them.”
“Fuck.” Fionn grabbed Rose’s arm and led her toward a coffee shop. “Get me a car, Bran. Untraceable.”
“Got it.” Bran hung up and Fionn shoved his mobile into his coat pocket.
“What’s going on?” Rose jerked against his tight hold.
“When the spell broke, it was powerful enough to be felt by the supernatural community in Zagreb. Someone talked to the Blackwood Coven and the Garm.”
“And they are?”
Fionn’s patience was thin but he was determined to keep up this pretense of openness to secure her trust. “The Blackwoods are a North American coven, one of the most powerful in the world. They want to open the gate to Faerie.”
Rose shook her head, amazed. “It’s all true, isn’t it?”
Fuck, he thought they were past that. “The faster you accept that, the easier this will be.”
She swallowed hard and pressed her lips together before giving him a tight nod.
“The Garm is a group raised by an ancient vampire named Eirik. He was killed six months ago … by one of the few fae left on this world. He hated the fae, even though they were responsible for creating what he’d become. Perhaps that’s why, in fact. Like me, he knew the fae saw humans as mere playthings. And he knew how dangerous it would be if the gate to Faerie was opened again. I can’t explain everything here, Rose. I promise I will once we’re on our way out of the country. But what I can tell you is that his group, the Garm, go on without him. Do you know much about Norse mythology?”
She shook her head. “Valkyries and stuff, right?”
He tried not to sigh impatiently as he glanced from left to right, keeping his senses alert. “The Garm was a wolf described as the guardian of Hel’s gate. Hel was a goddess who resided in the realm of the same name where portions of the dead were sent in the afterlife.”
“That’s relevant why?” she asked.
“The Garm believe themselves guardians of the gate to Faerie. They will destroy anyone who intends to open it, intentionally or unintentionally.”
“You said I’m the key … to the gate. So the Blackwoods want to kill me to open the gate and the Garm want to kill me to stop me being used to open the gate?”
Fionn nodded, ignoring that incessant niggle of uneasiness in his gut. “I want you to wait in the corner of this coffee shop. I’m going to travel to the hotel, get my things, and meet you back here. Bran is arranging a car for us. We’ll have to drive to the airport in Venice.”
“But wait.” She grabbed his arm. “Are you a key? Are you in danger?”
He faltered, taken aback by her apparent concern for him. Most people would shit themselves at the news there were powerful people hunting them. He gave her a slightly discombobulated shake of his head. “I’ll explain later.” He pulled her into the coffee shop, led her to a table in the corner, sat her forcefully down, and ignored her penetrating stare before he stalked toward the restrooms.
Once inside a stall in the men’s restroom, he focused on his hotel suite.
It took seconds to locate his belongings, along with the garment bag draped across his bed with his other suit. With a flick of his hand, he could send the garment bag to his apartment in Paris, but it was quite a bit away from Zagreb and the suit might inadvertently get ruined in all the conjuring. He’d have to take it wi
th him.
Everything in hand, Fionn sent a quick text to Bran telling him to check him out of the suite since it was no longer safe for Fionn to do so himself. Then, in a blink of an eye, he was back in the coffee shop restroom.
Rose was still at the table where he’d left her. To his satisfaction, her expression softened with relief when she caught sight of him.
Good. She was starting to trust him.
That’s what happened when you were desperate. You trusted where you shouldn’t.
There was that inconvenient niggle again.
Rose’s gaze dropped to his garment bag and then lifted to meet eyes. “Really? You needed to grab clothing?”
He scowled. “One, it’s a $3,000 suit. Two, witches and warlocks can use personal items in spells against you.”
Rose startled in panic. “My apartment.”
Fionn waved off her concern. He’d already texted Bran to take care of it. “I have someone clearing your place as we speak.”
“You are efficient, aren’t you?”
“No time for chitchat, Rose. We need to leave. Now.”
“Are we still going to Barcelona? Why?”
“You want to know who you are? Who you really are and where you’re from? Do you want me to teach you how to use and control your abilities?”
“Yes to all the above.”
“Then I’m taking you to Ireland. But first we need to make a stop in Barcelona. Someone took something from me. Something important. And I need it back.”
His phone buzzed in his pocket and he switched the garment bag to his other arm as they strode out of the coffee shop.
It was from Bran.
Apartment is swept clean.
Another text came in.
There was a street address, along with the car model, color, and license plate.
Keys are beneath front passenger wheel.
Fionn almost grinned. The boy could chat for Ireland, but fuck, he was useful.
8
Fionn was what Rose called a “viber.” She wondered if he even realized how much he manipulated the vibe of the surrounding space. The tension in the car was so thick as they drove through the city in the silver car Rose’s chest was tight.