by S. Young
Danger.
Rose gasped. “Fionn … I feel weird.”
He looked in his mirrors and saw a black car traveling much too quickly toward them. He pressed his foot to the accelerator and weaved through traffic. “Do you know how they say animals have a sixth sense?”
“Yeah.” She turned to look over her shoulder and her lips pressed together. “We’re being followed?”
“We are. And the strange feelings you just had … never ignore those, Rose.” It crossed his mind in that second that maybe he shouldn’t tell her this, but if she was going to sense danger in him, she would have already. “The prickle across your neck and spine—fuck,” he bit out just as he missed clipping the front of someone’s car. The other driver hit their horn, hard.
“The racing heart, the dread in the gut … they’re warning signs. Of coming danger. You feel those things, you get ready to fight or to flee.”
She nodded frantically. “Who’s following us?”
Fionn flipped up the armrest between them where he’d put his cell. Driving with one hand, he dialed with the other and set it on speaker.
“You do know I sometimes need to sleep,” Bran complained as soon as he picked up.
“We’ve got a tail, Bran. Who the fuck is it?”
“Shit—”
The rest of his words were garbled as the black car caught up and slammed right into the back of them with such force, it sent them careening off the highway before Fionn could prevent it. Down the embankment the car went, juddering across a field.
Rose never made a peep, just sucked in her breath and held on.
Fionn watched in his mirrors as the black car pulled off just as theirs came to a stop.
He turned to tell her to unclip her belt but she was already doing it.
“Fionn!” Bran’s voice called from somewhere in the car.
Ignoring Bran, Fionn tried to manage their next move. If Rose traveled too far, she could end up somewhere without him. There was nothing before them but a stretch of field. But in the distance, straight ahead were trees and a cluster of houses.
It would have to do.
He pointed. “You see those trees, those houses?”
She nodded, surprisingly calm.
“Focus on them. Travel there. That’s where I’ll meet you.”
“Can’t you just poof us both?”
The roof of the car began to squeal as metal crunched and pulled. The air crackled with magic. “The fuckers are pulling off the roof,” he groused. “And no, Rose. I can’t poof you with me. You must do this. Focus.”
She gave him a tight nod, her lips pressed thin. Then she turned, stared out at the houses and trees in the distance, and then she was gone.
Fionn followed.
He appeared behind a tree and whirled around to find Rose. She was nowhere in sight. A cool breeze ruffled his hair as he strained to listen. Nothing.
Fuck.
“Rose?” he called softly.
Still nothing.
A feeling akin to panic filled Fionn, but that couldn’t be right. He hadn’t felt enough for anything or anyone in centuries to inspire emotions such as panic.
“Rose?” He walked toward the house that peeked out from between the trees. His heart raced. He was so close to finally having his revenge. The thought of losing Rose now was unthinkable.
Although that didn’t explain the rage he’d felt when she relayed her story of the frat-boy prick who’d tried to rape her. Then again, rape was a touchy subject for Fionn.
It reminded him that Rose had sensed his emotions. He’d only known one fae on Faerie who could do that as an actual ability. The only other people able to sense emotions in one another had been mated fae.
What was Aine thinking bestowing such a powerful ability on one of the children?
“Rose?” he bit out, growing angrier as his anxiousness increased.
A groan met his ears and he hurried toward the sound. Her scent caught on the wind and he followed that summery, light natural perfume to her.
She was sprawled in the dirt beside a tree, slowly pushing herself up.
“What happened?” He reached for her biceps and hauled her to her feet. The feel of her under his hands sent relief through him.
Rose seemed unable to meet his eyes. “I traveled too far and ended up in one of the houses.” She gestured behind them. “I popped right out of thin air in this woman’s kitchen. She started screaming bloody murder. In my panic to get out of there, I popped into someone else’s house and then popped out here and collided with this damn tree.”
The thought of Rose bumbling around in people’s houses with her newfound abilities was strangely amusing.
Her eyes narrowed on his mouth. “Are you trying not to laugh? You think this is funny?”
The incredulity in her voice was even funnier. His mouth twitched before he could stop it and he cleared the laughter from his throat. “Of course not. We’re being hunted. Why would that be fun—” Pain blasted through his upper shoulder, threatening to take him to his knees.
“Fionn!” Rose cried, lunging toward him as he stumbled.
Growling, he glared at the thick tree branch impaled through his shoulder before pushing Rose behind him and turning to face his attacker, keeping her hidden at his back.
Two warlocks, flecks of blue magic sparking at their fingertips, walked toward them through the trees, an arrogant swagger in their steps that suggested they had no idea who he was. They couldn’t be Blackwood warlocks. They would know who he was and wouldn’t pick a fight with a two-thousand-year-old fucking fae who could annihilate them.
Fionn took hold of the branch and pulled it out, ignoring the burn and the little flecks of splinters that broke out inside him. His fae blood would disintegrate those. The wound healed instantly, the pain gone.
The warlocks ducked as he launched the branch at them.
Fionn found himself in a difficult position. He could deal with these two permanently and possibly scare off Rose, or he could just knock them unconscious and risk them continuing their hunt.
The warlocks exchanged a wary look after studying Fionn. They’d stopped several feet away, and Fionn felt Rose move behind him as if she were trying to peek. He stepped to the side, blocking her, and when she tried the other side, he did it again.
He heard her small growl of annoyance and bit back amusement. She was a strangely entertaining female.
“What are you?” one of the warlocks asked, his accent distinctly Dublin in origin.
Suspicion niggled at Fionn.
“You drive my car off the road and stick a branch in me and expect me to answer your questions? What business am I to you?”
“Perhaps he’s like Rose,” the other mused.
He felt Rose tense behind him and could have sworn he tasted her fear on his tongue.
Fury that these men would frighten a woman who had been strong enough to deal with a lot so far turned his blood hot.
The other warlock, the taller and older of the two, shook his head. “You’re not our business. Rose is. The woman belongs to us. Step aside and you won’t get hurt.”
Fionn bit back a curse. They were O’Connor Coven members. They had to be. Whether they wanted to protect her or kill her was uncertain … although Rose had felt danger from them.
He had to be sure. He needed to know if he was now bound to protect her from two bloody covens.
“What’s your business with Rose?”
He felt her small hand settle on his lower back and a surge of possessiveness almost floored him.
“That’s none of your business.”
That’s when he felt it. The escalated heart rate, the dread in the gut.
And when she whispered his name, fear in her voice, he knew for certain Rose felt it too.
These fuckers had come to kill her.
Her own bloody coven.
“I’m sorry,” he said, not sorry at all. “You shouldn’t have come.”
Magi
c crackled in the air and several branches snapped off trees as if by invisible hands. They flew toward Fionn in a shower of lethal stakes.
Fionn swiped a hand over the air in front of him, easily overpowering their magic with his own, changing the message in the energy wrapped around the stakes. They did a sharp U-turn and flew back at their senders at high speed. There was nothing they could do to stop them.
The stakes hit the warlocks with such velocity, they yanked them off their feet. One found himself impaled into a tree trunk, the other collapsed at an awkward angle. Branches stuck out all over their bodies.
It was a gruesome sight and one he wasn’t sure Rose needed to see. He tried to stop her looking, but she pushed past him and then stumbled to a halt.
“Oh my God.”
“That was meant for us. I just turned it back on them.”
Pale, trembling, she looked up at him with horror in her blue eyes. “Who were they? The Blackwoods?”
He shook his head. “The Blackwoods know who I am—they’d approach with more caution … I can’t say for sure but I think those were O’Connor warlocks.”
“My family?” She looked like she might be sick.
“There’s no evidence your adoptive parents know of this, Rose. I know it’s a lot to take in but we can’t stay here. I need to retrieve my things from the car. Stay here. Do not move. I’ll be back in seconds.” Hoping she’d obey, Fionn traveled and appeared by the car in the field, heard the sirens in the distance, and instinctively knew they were for his wreckage.
Fuck.
He quickly retrieved his mobile, iPad, and clothing from the car and returned to Rose.
She was right where he’d left her, staring at the impaled warlocks.
His jaw flexed as he took in her pale face. Those freckles he’d barely noticed before now stood out in sharp contrast to the whiteness of her cheeks. “Rose.”
Slowly, she glanced up at him. After blinking a few times, she seemed to come out of her daze. “What do we do now?”
“They must have something of yours to trace you. I had the apartment wiped clean so they must have gotten the item from somewhere else.” Like her adoptive parents.
Rose frowned. “What does that mean? That they went to my parents’ house and took something … or are you insinuating my mom and dad betrayed me?”
At her defensive tone, Fionn trod carefully. “I’m not accusing anyone of anything. In all likelihood, your parents could do nothing to stop their coven from taking something of yours.”
“So … what does this mean?”
“It means we’ll have a tail until we get to Ireland. There are faerie pools near my home that have special properties. One dunk in them and it’ll wipe you clean. They won’t be able to trace you then.”
“How?”
“I’ll explain later. For now, it means we need to watch our backs, and we need to get moving.”
Fionn took her small hand in his and led her out of the woods. There was no car in the driveway of the first house they approached but there was a Volkswagen Golf at the next. Fionn touched the license plate on the back of the car and concentrated on switching out a letter with another. He kept a hold on Rose as he did the same to the front license plate.
Sending electrical impulses into the mechanism with just a press of his palm to the door, he unlocked the car and ushered Rose into the passenger seat. He dumped his stuff in the back seat but kept his phone in hand.
As he got into the driver’s seat, he saw the front door to the house open. A stocky man flew toward them, face scrunched with fury, but Fionn was already speeding out of the driveway. Pulling out of the small neighborhood, he turned left, and then left again, following the signs that would lead them back onto the highway.
Fionn dialed Bran with his free hand and wasn’t surprised when he picked up on the first ring.
“Fionn, are you okay?” He sounded frantic.
“Fine. Two warlocks found us. They’re dead. But they weren’t Blackwood. I’m sure of it. I think they might have been O’Connor, and they wanted Rose dead.”
Again, he swore he could feel her tension rather than merely sense it.
What the—
“I’ll look into it and get back to you on that. For now, change direction. An Breitheamh went up for auction last night.”
Fionn bit back an expletive.
“The Blackwoods must suspect you’re going after it because they’ve got people at Venice Marco Polo Airport and people at El Prat airport in Barcelona. More than that, they’ve put in an offer. Along with a bunch of other powerful supes.”
Bloody hell, it would take them weeks to get back to Ireland at this rate. “When does the auction close?”
“Four nights from now.”
“Pull up train schedules from Ljubljana to Barcelona.”
“Just a second …” Fionn could hear Bran’s rapid typing. “Okay, there’s a train leaving in three hours for Ljubljana. It’ll get you to Milan. From there you’ll take a couple more trains to get to Barcelona. It’s about a day’s journey.”
Fionn sucked in a breath. Bloody brilliant. “Buy the tickets for me and Rose. First class if you can and then email them over.”
“You got it. She okay?”
Fionn flicked a look at her. Her color was returning to her cheeks, but he could tell she was lost in her thoughts. He had to hope he hadn’t damaged the tenuous trust between them by killing the warlocks. “Time will tell,” he answered honestly.
“Remember to feed her.” Bran hung up.
Fionn dropped his cell in the open armrest as they drove through Drnovo. Ljubljana was an hour away. “Are you hungry or can you wait until we get to Ljubljana?”
“What is An Breitheamh?” she turned to him. “And why are you really helping me?”
“I told you why.”
“You’ve killed. A lot. I can tell by the way you just brushed off their deaths like it was nothing.”
Hearing the judgment in her voice, Fionn ignored the pinch in his chest that felt remarkably like betrayal and pushed down the anger she inspired. “I was a warrior. Of course I’ve killed. And they were there to kill us. I turned their magic back on them, nothing more.”
Rose blanched.
Then, she sagged. “I know,” she whispered. “I know that. I’m sorry. But … no one helps someone out of the pureness of their heart. No matter how much they identify with them.”
That unwelcome but now familiar niggle of guilt reappeared, and Fionn stuffed it down inside himself too. He’d gotten good at controlling his emotions while living on Faerie but since meeting Rose, it was getting harder. “I’m trying to protect the world from the fae,” he blurted out the lie. “To understand, you need to hear the rest of the story.”
He flicked a look at her and watched as she squeezed her eyes closed, her features strained with stress. “It can wait,” Fionn surprised himself by saying. “Take this time to process everything that’s happened. We’ll pick up the story later.”
10
It had taken them an hour to drive to the capital city of Slovenia and in that time, no more words had been spoken between them. Fionn had meant it when he said he’d explain everything later.
Truthfully, despite the feeling Rose got that he’d insisted on waiting for her sake, she imagined he was kind of glad for the reprieve from conversation for a while too. He seemed more comfortable with silence.
Once in Ljubljana, Fionn abandoned the car near the train station, and Rose pondered when it became okay to her she was his accomplice in murder and theft. It seemed her survival took precedence over morality. What disturbed her most was how quickly—not easily—she defended Fionn’s actions.
Those warlocks were sent to kill her, and Fionn had saved her.
She felt sick to her stomach every time she saw their deaths again in her mind, but it was either her or them. Right?
Thinking perhaps Fionn would find somewhere private at the station to tell her the rest of the s
tory, Rose was bewildered when he settled them in a dark corner of a café and said nothing while they waited for their train. At the nightclub, people had stared at him. He was a huge guy—it wasn’t a surprise.
But people weren’t staring, and it made no sense. Fionn was someone you stared at.
“Why is no one looking at you?”
He quirked an eyebrow.
She shrugged. “You’re kind of hard not to look at.”
After a moment of studying her, expression typically blank, he relayed, “It’s a trick. If I don’t want to be noticed, I cast an illusion. I become nondescript, of no import, to the people around me.”
Rose’s pulse increased as she tallied up his list of talents. “Can I do that?”
“In time, you’ll learn how.”
“You didn’t do that at the club. I noticed you right away.”
“There was no reason. I wasn’t being followed. I was following Niamh. And she knew I was coming, anyway.”
Rose nodded, and they fell into companionable silence.
Now and then their gazes would meet and hold. Butterflies fluttered in her belly and a hot tingling sensation gathered between her legs as those green eyes wandered over her face. Her reaction to him was inexplicable considering how unreadable his cool expression was.
“Are we safe?” Rose eventually asked.
Fionn gave a slight shake of his head. “We’re not being followed. You’ll sense that like last time. But that doesn’t mean you’re safe, Rose. You’ll understand soon.”
Soon crawled toward Rose, her patience wearing. Without Fionn’s storytelling, she was left to think about her parents and how they had lied to her about her very existence. Then there was the possibility they’d betrayed her to their coven. Fionn suggested they wouldn’t have had a choice.
Still, she was furious.
If they loved her, they’d be worried sick unable to contact her. She hated that idea, but, unfortunately, even if she was ready to talk, it was now too dangerous.
To her relief, a few hours later, Fionn stood and gestured for her to follow him. They boarded one of the first-class carriages of a train bound for Milan with the e-tickets Bran had emailed. They sat opposite each other, a small table between them. First, Rose watched Fionn lay his coat and garment bag across the luggage rack above them, not having to stretch to reach the damn thing. Then she tried not to smirk at the way he attempted to fold his large body into the seat. His knees hit the table.