Tempestuous

by Lesley Livingston

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She turned her face away from him.

  “Yeah?” Fenn’s hands were on her shoulders now, making her look back at him. “Why did Sonny leave you?”

  “You know already,” she said angrily. “You know I made him leave. I did that.”

  “If it had been me, I never would have left you,” Fennrys said. “No matter what you said or did. But then, I never would have left you in the first place. If I’d been Sonny, I would have told Auberon to take that business with the Wild Hunt and stuff it sideways.”

  “Fenn . . . stop.”

  “You barely know him, Kelley.” His voice was low, urgent; his expression so intense it frightened her. “You said you thought Sonny had changed—I think he’s always been exactly that. He was raised by a man with a shard of ice where his heart should be. I’m not saying it’s Sonny’s fault, but you should wonder, maybe, if he’s even capable of loving you.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. . . .”

  But by then, Fennrys had stopped talking.

  And his kiss effectively stopped Kelley from saying anything else, either.

  When, finally, Fennrys let her go and she could breathe again, he said, “I’m not going to apologize for that.”

  Even though she hadn’t asked him to.

  She hadn’t done anything, in fact. She hadn’t pulled away. She hadn’t punched him. She hadn’t even moved back. She stood there, gasping, stunned. Fennrys relented and took a small step away, allowing Kelley to catch her breath. The Wolf dropped his hands to his sides, and Kelley found some remnant of her voice hiding at the back of her throat. “Where is Sonny?”

  The Wolf laughed mirthlessly and shook his head. “I don’t know. Back at his apartment by now with that huntress and her traveling circus of Lost Fae losers, I suppose.”

  Kelley’s gaze automatically went to where she could just see the lights of the apartments on Central Park West shining through the screen of trees. Not that she could see Sonny’s penthouse from where she stood. And what would she have expected to see, anyway? Sonny standing on the terrace with his arms wrapped around Carys? Would that have made her feel any less guilty in that moment than she did? She should have punched Fenn. He shouldn’t have presumed. . . .

  “You sure that’s what you really want, Kelley?” Fennrys said quietly, following her gaze. “You sure that’s who you want?”

  She turned back to him and said coldly, “I can’t believe you’d even ask me that.”

  “And I can’t believe that you’d mess with the guy’s mind.” Fennrys shrugged. “Lie to him—however you managed that little trick, Faerie Princess—abandon him, and think that somehow things will work out in the end. You sure you’re not intentionally trying to sabotage this thing you have with Sonny? Maybe when he was gone, you figured out that, in some ways, Irish just doesn’t measure up—”

  The invisible blow that came out of nowhere snapped Fenn’s head viciously to the side, and he grunted in pain. Kelley looked down at where she held her hand cocked in a tight fist—as if she’d actually, physically delivered the blow herself. Her knuckles actually stung.

  Fennrys looked back at her, rubbing the side of his jaw. His eyes glittered dangerously, but his mouth quirked upward in that maddeningly inscrutable half grin.

  “Right,” he said, turning aside to spit blood. “Ain’t love grand.”

  Kelley reined in her rage. “Tell me something. Was I one of those battles you told me about, Fenn? When you said ‘pick your battles’—did you pick me? Is that it?”

  “What if I did?”

  “Then I’d say you made a tactical error.” She lifted her chin and stared him in the eyes. “You said the trick in knowing which ones to pick is knowing which ones you can win.”

  “And?”

  “You lose.” Kelley turned and walked away from him, anger lengthening her stride.

  If only Fennrys hadn’t delayed her departure from the park . . . she would have been long gone well before trouble stepped out from beneath the Winterdale Arch bridge: six large black shapes, red eyes burning like embers, long white fangs gleaming in the darkness. Black Shuck.

  “Oh goody,” Kelley muttered, swallowing painfully against the sudden lump of fear in her throat. “Demon dogs.”

  Perhaps she’d been hasty to leave Fennrys and try to make it through the park on her own. Foolish. No. Not foolish. More like really, really monumentally stupid, she cursed silently. Her palms went slick with nervous sweat and her muscles tightened. The Shuck paced around her like well-trained pets to form a tight, menacing circle. Slowly, Kelley tried to reach up and unfasten the charm around her neck—if she could manifest her wings and take to the sky, she’d be fine—but the lead dog’s lips curled back in a snarl the moment she moved her arm.

  When she lowered her hand, Kelley noticed the gleaming black carriage parked in the shadows beneath the bridge. The door stood open and a large tawny owl perched on the roof of the cab, staring at her with cold golden eyes. Kelley realized that she didn’t have much choice as to what would happen next. She was going to have to get into the carriage. Or the Black Shuck would tear her to pieces.

  She turned back to the biggest of the dogs and said, “Okay, Scooby. Let’s go. Take me to your leader.”

  The head Shuck jumped up into the cabin after Kelley climbed in and sat staring balefully at her. The air inside the carriage was heavy with the scent of narcissus and tiger lilies. And mildew. There were dark green stains on the bench seat. As the carriage began to move, Kelley hazarded a glance out of one of the curtained windows. The lights of the city flowed past in a ghostly haze as the antique coach sped unseen through the streets. Another peek, a few minutes later, showed Kelley nothing but darkness, and the glimmering of stars reflected on the black surface of a wide stretch of water that flowed beneath the carriage wheels.

  The trip, though brief, didn’t give her much time to ponder the circumstances of her present situation. Not good was the least terrifying way she could think of to classify it. She listened to the other hellhounds baying as they ran beside the carriage, eagle-taloned feet skimming the dark waves. Then she heard the crunch of gravel beneath the carriage wheels and Kelley felt cold dread clutch at her heart.

  The carriage rolled to a stop. After a long moment, the handle on the inside of the door twisted. The door swung open. Kelley heard the ghostly hooting of the owl as it flew off into the darkness.

  A hand reached into the carriage to help her alight.

  “Hello, Princess,” Bob the boucca said. “Welcome to North Brother Island. Or, as I like to call it . . . Hell on Earth.”

  Chapter XXIII

  “What happened to you?” Sonny heard Maddox ask.

  He looked up from where he sat with Cait to see that Maddox had opened the door for Fennrys to walk in, followed by Bryan and Beni. There was the shadow of a fresh bruise on the Wolf’s face.

  “Nothing,” Fenn said. “I just ran into something with a bit of a temper in the park, that’s all.”

  Cait snorted. “I hope you gave as good as you got.”

  “Yeah.” Fennrys touched the back of his hand to the corner of his mouth. “I hope so, too. . . .”

  From Bryan’s and Beni’s expressions, Sonny knew that Fennrys must have already filled them in on what was going on with the Janus Guard. Beni looked extremely dismayed, and Bryan’s brow was creased in a deep frown.

  “Lads,” Sonny said. “Thanks for coming.”

  They nodded.

  “Maddox . . . could you fill these three in on everything that’s just happened while Cait and I get to work on this locator spell?”

  “Sure.” Maddox gestured them out onto the terrace. “C’mon, boys. Story time.”

  “Locator spell, huh?” Fennrys asked, not moving. “Tell me something . . . what if someone else has already found Kelley? What are you gonna do then?”

  Something in his tone made Sonny stand and grip the o
ther Janus by his arm. “What do you know, Fennrys?”

  “Get your hand off me, Irish,” Fenn said in a low, dangerous tone.

  Sonny felt a rising bloom of heat in his chest, and his fingertips began to tingle. Fenn must have felt it, too. He glanced down at where Sonny held him, and anger sparked in his gaze as he looked back up.

  “You gonna blast me through another window?” he said, grinning dangerously. “Because I just can’t get enough of that kinda thing, let me tell you.”

  Sonny didn’t move, but he didn’t let go either. The two men stood there, toe to toe. Then Fennrys grinned his lopsided grin.

  “I thought we were on the same side here, Sonny-boy.”

  “Are we?”

  Cait looked as though she shared Sonny’s skepticism. Fennrys laughed. “Can’t you people ever have a little faith?”

  A little faith, Sonny thought. Hadn’t he said almost the same thing to Kelley not so long ago? He let go of Fenn’s arm.

  “I’d be careful with that, if I were you.” The Wolf’s gaze flicked toward Sonny’s hand, where the Green Magick still pulsed and thrummed under his skin. Then he stalked out into the night air to join Maddox and the lads, ignoring the assortment of Lost Fae scattered about the apartment.

  What’s wrong with you? Sonny chastised himself silently. Is it just because you are jealous of him?

  It made him angry with himself to think that he could be so petty-minded. He’d never felt that way before. He looked down at his hand, where the tips of his fingers still tingled with power. Power that he really didn’t have any kind of handle on. Power that he itched to use . . .

  Now that he knew it was there, he could feel it, coursing through his veins like the strongest Faerie wine. Dangerous. Intoxicating.

  Maybe Kelley had been smart to keep this from him.

  Under Cait’s guidance, Sonny concentrated on following the thready tendrils of power—the ones that connected him to Kelley’s charm—through the darkness behind his closed eyelids. Images cascaded through his mind: dense forest and ruined buildings overgrown with masses of tangled vines, shadows beneath trees and scores of birds soaring through the dark sky above—birds with dark wings and pale faces . . . and bright red devil’s eyes. Birds like the ones that had attacked them in the reservoir.

  In their midst, he sensed a bright green flame, flaring with Kelley’s signature firecracker energy. Sonny’s eyes snapped open.

  “What is it, Sonny?” Cait asked urgently. “What did you see?”

  He told her everything he’d seen, the words pouring out of him in a rush before the images could flee. “That’s all I can tell you,” he said finally, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “But it’s useless. Trees, birds . . . she could be anywhere.”

  Cait thought for a moment and then called Maddox in from the terrace. “Give me your phone,” she said, holding out her hand.

  Sonny had never seen the need for a computer or a cell phone. But Maddox had recently decided that he would master his wariness of technology once and for all. The shiny little trinket made Sonny seriously rethink his own position. Cait’s delicate fingers danced over the glowing screen, calling up a page devoted to the identification of different species of birds. She entered the search terms “red eyes” and “black, white, gray plumage.” One of the very first entries that came up on the tiny screen had an accompanying picture.

  “That’s it!” Sonny pointed triumphantly.

  Cait batted away his hand so that he wouldn’t alter the screen. “The ‘black-crowned night heron,’” she read from the description.

  “Sounds ominous enough,” Maddox noted dryly.

  After his initial rush of excitement, Sonny deflated somewhat. “That’s all well and good, Cait,” he said, “but I don’t see how knowing the species—”

  Cait shushed him and tabbed to another screen. She entered the species name of the bird, and requested information on nesting grounds in and around the vicinity of New York City. One mention stood out. Cait did a further search on that entry . . . and suddenly, just like magic, they knew exactly where they had to go.

  Less than an hour later, they were on a boat.

  Sonny stood, feet braced, on the deck of the rusty old tug as it plowed through the dark water of the East River. Chloe’s former profession had left her with an affinity for sailors. Over the years, after her mortal lover died, she’d spent a lot of time down at the docks on the lower East River. She’d gotten to know one old salt who’d actually been a minor river deity in Greece a few centuries back but who, through a series of wanderings, had come to own a fleet of barge tugs. The aging boat they stood on now was one that was due to be decommissioned, and he’d let them have it for free.

  “If you don’t return it, or sink the damned thing,” he said, “I’ll turn a profit on the insurance money anyway.”

  From the way he’d said it, Sonny figured he expected to be collecting a check the next day.

  With Maddox at the wheel, the little craft chugged upriver in the darkness, riding low in the water. Sonny took watch from the prow as they headed toward an ominous hump of land that lay dark and seemingly uninhabited, just northwest of the sweep of the Rikers Island prison searchlights. Their destination.

  They were close enough now that Sonny could make out the dark shapes of buildings hidden under an untamed canopy of thick forest growth. The remains of a crumbling dock made for treacherous landing, but Maddox managed to get them close enough to the shore so that they only had to wade knee-deep through the water.

  The second Sonny’s boots hit the ground, he felt a thrumming, disturbed energy. The very island seemed angered by their presence. The trees at the edge of the shingle creaked and moaned as they splashed ashore, swaying in the absence of any wind. Sonny was also reasonably certain that, in the distance, he heard the baying of one or more Black Shuck.

  He exchanged a glance with Maddox as they stepped ashore along with Fennrys and Carys and the others. The plan was simply to split up and cover as much ground as possible, find Kelley, and—if someone did—send up a signal for the others to hightail it back to the boat.

  But their adversaries had other ideas.

  A barrage of arrows came zipping out from the trees, shot by an unseen archer. Sonny and Carys were forced to run for cover behind a stack of rotting timbers.

  It seemed that the island’s first line of defense was the rogue Janus Guard.

  “I thought you said you dislocated Selene’s shoulder!” Sonny called to Cait, who’d tumbled for safety into the black water behind the stern of the boat.

  “I did! I guess someone else relocated it!” she shouted back.

  Slender spears arced out toward the boat along with the arrows, forcing Fennrys and the lads to retreat and take cover on the deck of the boat behind the gunwales. Camina, Sonny thought grimly. The throwing spear was a favorite weapon of hers—and she’d obviously stocked up.

  Crouched beside Sonny, Carys pulled her own bow from her shoulder and nocked an arrow, but there was nothing visible to shoot at. The forest cover was too thick.

  “Bug!” the huntress called to Neerya, who still crouched behind the wheelhouse on the tug. “Can you get airborne and see if you can spot anything? I need to know where to shoot!”

  Neerya nodded bravely and soared upward through the air like a tiny blue meteor. She hovered there, zipping back and forth to avoid getting hit, so focused on finding the shooter that she didn’t see the demon-eyed heron plummet silently toward her out of the darkness until it was too late. She shrieked and tumbled through the air to avoid it. The bird slashed the air with knifelike talons, catching an edge of one of Neerya’s iridescent wings—tearing it away from her shoulder blade with a bright flash of light. Neerya screamed in pain and dropped through the air toward the water’s edge, witch-fire trailing behind her from her torn wing.

  “No!” Sonny screamed as she fell.

  “I’ve got her!” Maddox shouted, and leaped from the bow r
ail of the tug. He caught the naiad in midair, pulling her in tight to his broad chest before she could hit the ground. They landed in the shallow water a stone’s throw away from the safety of the boat. Sonny saw a flash of movement darting out from under the trees. He shouted a warning at Maddox, who ducked as Godwyn came charging like an enraged boar down the narrow strip of beach toward him, swiping at Maddox’s head with a long-bladed rapier.

  The rogue Janus was laughing wildly. Maddox had dropped his own weapon so that he could catch Neerya, and that had left him vulnerable. The naiad stumbled back toward the boat as Maddox turned to defend himself. But Godwyn was faster. Maddox howled in excruciating pain as the sword pierced straight through his shoulder. Godwyn pulled the rapier out, smiled viciously, and—as was his custom—began to sing.

  A mistake, that.

  Blood cascaded down the right side of Maddox’s chest, soaking his shirt. And then the left side as well, as Godwyn cruelly ran his sword through the Janus’s other shoulder joint. Maddox fell forward onto his knees, his arms hanging uselessly at his sides as Godwyn reared back for the killing blow that would have taken Maddox in the heart.

  If only he hadn’t been singing. . . .

  Chloe had stayed safely hidden in the tugboat’s hold up to that point. But the music drew her up onto the deck. Even from a distance, Sonny saw the rage ignite in the Siren’s golden eyes as she realized what was happening to Maddox.

  She ran and leaped from the bow of the boat, flinging herself at Godwyn, clawing wildly at his head and shoulders, knocking him to the ground. Godwyn flailed desperately in an attempt to dislodge her, but the Siren clung to him like a barnacle on a ship.

  Chloe fastened her mouth on Godwyn’s. Her Siren’s kiss stopped the singing in his throat, even as she stole every bit of music mercilessly from his mind. Godwyn was dead almost before the echoes of his song had faded into silence.

  A moment of stillness blanketed the beach, and Carys took the opportunity to fire blindly into the trees so that she and Sonny could make a run for it. They got to Maddox and heaved him back up over the low starboard side of the tug to safety. Cait threw up a shielding spell around the boat as they did.