by Cat Marsters
As he left, he told them, If you need anything, mind-speak it to me. And don’t ever bargain with the fae again.
That was the trouble with humans, he thought as he flew back over Canada and New England to the city where he lived. They thought they were smarter than anyone else.
Maybe they were, but they weren’t as cunning as the fae. No one was.
It was a long flight. By the time the outer edges of New York City came into view, Ruarc was exhausted. Probably he should have slipped back into Faery and exited back into the mortal realm at a nearer place; but right now he had no wish to see the Queen again.
Sweeping over Brooklyn, something caught at his attention. Something discordant. Something… unnatural.
He flew closer, landed on a roof. Music drifted up to him, something slow and bluesy. It was soothing, a smoky female voice singing a seductive song, but Ruarc wasn’t paying full attention. There was something down there, something wrong, something dangerous.
He caught the scent of summer meadows and a brush of warmth, and frowned. That felt like Seelie. Summer fae. But in New York, in winter? What the hell were they doing here?
Shrugging his wings away, checking his appearance was wholly human again -- once more dressed in his suit and tie -- Ruarc made his way down the fire escape to the ground. Flying down was all very well, but knowing his luck some human would spot him and he just wasn’t in the mood for that.
He found himself outside a nightclub, and old-fashioned place with a blinking neon sign. Steps led down to a dimly lit bar, patrons at small round tables, waitresses in short skirts weaving languorously between them. On a stage at the far end, a woman in a glittery dress was husking out old blues tunes to the accompaniment of a small band in tuxedoes.
It was like stepping back in time. And it was so not the sort of place to find a Seelie fae. Seelie were everything warm and bright, sunlight and summer and heat; the winter and the night time were the Unseelie realm. To find one here was inexplicable.
Ruarc found him almost immediately, a tanned blond man attracting the attention of every woman in the place. But he wasn’t looking at any of them: his eyes were on the singer.
Ruarc watched him a while, but he didn’t seem to be doing anything. His energy was very dim, so far removed from the summer sunshine. The guy was probably trying to gather enough strength to make the leap back to Faery. He didn’t seem very dangerous at all.
Ruarc turned to leave, just as the singer finished her song and murmured to the audience in a strong Latina accent, “Thank you very much. We will be here tomorrow.”
He froze. He knew that voice.
He’d last heard it screaming obscenities and death threats. He’d heard it whimper with pleasure. And, once or twice, he thought he’d heard it sobbing softly.
Ruarc turned, and caught the eye of the woman leaving the stage. Her skin was like milk chocolate, her hair ebony and her eyes a flashing darkness. He knew the moment she recognized him, saw the apprehension and then disgust cross her face.
Of course. Vampires always hated faeries. No one really knew why. They just did.
She held his gaze for a moment, letting scorn darken her beautiful features. Then with an arrogant tilt of her head, she took a bow and swept off the stage.
Vampires. Well, that would account for the dangerous vibe. The Seelie was what felt out of place, and the vampire, a separate entity, was what felt dangerous. Mystery solved. Time to go home, get a strong drink, and go to sleep.
But the instant he stepped outside, something slimy punched him in the face.
* * *
Maria changed her shoes but not her dress, slipping a long raincoat over the sequins and gathering up her bag as she prepared to leave. She’d be glad to get out: the presence of that faery had unsettled her. And not just any faery: by the scar on his cheek she couldn’t mistake him.
Last time she’d seen him that scar had been fresh, a blistered gash where iron had struck him as Starne’s harem fell down around them. An easy marker to remember him by when all she wanted to do was forget.
“Here.” The bar’s owner, a short ugly human who stank of body odor, stood in the doorway holding a sheaf of banknotes. Maria took them, trying not to snatch in her greediness.
She counted.
She scowled.
“This is only half what you promised me.”
He shrugged. “Times are hard, sweetcheeks.”
“Do not call me that.”
He gave a leer. “I can call you what I want, babycakes. Until you get your green card, you ain’t gonna go running to no one.”
Maria growled low in her throat. She could easily rip out his jugular, leave him bleeding on the floor -- yeah, and get herself a decent meal into the bargain -- but then where would she be? No more singing money, that was for sure. And no one else would employ her with her total lack of identification, let alone that damned green card.
For a second she wavered, considering the shadowy existence most other vampires seemed to live. But they were vampires with clans, families, protectors. Vampires with money.
The bottom line was, if she killed this man, she’d never earn the money to hire Sundown to find her bastard sire.
“Fine,” she said, and bared her teeth a little. “I’ll take the money. But you call me sweetcheeks or babycakes or any of that other crap ever again, I’ll rip your throat out. Understand?”
He started to laugh. Maria growled louder, let her fangs show.
He shut up, and she pushed past him into the night.
Instantly, the sharp, sweet tang of blood came to her on the night air. Strong blood. Really strong, potent, delicious. Maria hadn’t fed tonight. She’d been planning vaguely on luring one of the club’s patrons out into the back alley and biting him there. Maybe that blond man who seemed so fixated on her.
But someone else was already bleeding. A street fight? Maybe she could get a bit of action there. She rounded the corner to the trash alley at the back of the club, and drew up short. Because right in front of her was that bastard fae, who’d clearly been sent by Sundown to check up on her, and he was fighting with a… a… a thing with four arms and slimy green skin.
Shit. She didn’t want to get into this fight. She backed away, only to find herself up against something hard and warm.
“Well, well,” said a voice in her ear. “Lookee what we have here.”
She spun around, fangs out. It was the blond patron, the one who’d been staring at her all night. Only now he didn’t look so harmless. Now that she was this close, she felt an otherworldly energy coming from him.
Damning her sire, damning Starne and especially damning Breslin, Maria bared her fangs and made a vow to work on her paranormal-spotting instincts. “You have a pissed off vampire,” she said.
“Mmm. Been a while since I had me a piece of vampire ass.”
Astonished at his stupidity, Maria stared for a second before she lunged to bite him -- and then he shoved something against her chest that burned so suddenly, so fiercely, that she shrieked.
The fae grinned. “Why’d you believe in your god, little vampire, when you’re so unholy?”
The crucifix burned and smoldered. Maria’s fists clenched, her eyes stinging. If she breathed, she’d have been breathless with pain. In life she’d been a devout Catholic. Now it was coming back to bite her in the ass.
In seconds she was back in that cage, chains burning her wrists and ankles, drugs blurring her vision, men standing over her with stakes and gourds of holy water.
The terror pulsed through her, petrified her.
The fae leered and shoved her back against the wall, tugging at her sequined dress, calling to the green… thing, “Ain’t you finished yet?”
As the fae took her trembling hands and pinned them above her head, pressing the crucifix against them and burning her wrists, she managed to turn her head. The green creature was still fighting with the scarred faerie, but the fae was a blur of movement, almost impossibl
e to see. In fact, with her vampire vision fading every second the cross burned into her, she could barely see anything at all. The alley was dark, the air pungent with blood and the stink of the green thing.
The fae had her dress pushed up around her waist now and was pawing at her underwear. The crucifix blistered her wrists. Tears burned her eyes. Her fangs broke the skin of her own lips.
And anger bubbled up inside her. She hadn’t survived seventy years in a harem for this! She’d fought greater pain than this. She’d fought more men than this. And she was damn well going to fight this!
With a scream, she drew up all her energy and shoved at the fae, who reeled backwards, shocked. “Don’t you fucking dare,” she snarled, trying to flex her blistered, burning wrists.
“Skalar,” the fae called, backing away, “it ain’t working…”
Skalar, whatever it was, glanced back and hissed, “I got prroblemsss offf my own, Sssseelie!”
“Hey, you promised me vampire ass if I distracted the Unseelie for ya!”
Maria’s gaze darted to said Unseelie, who slowed enough that she could see him.
“Dirty rotten Seelie,” he muttered, then louder, “Maria, you got a weapon?”
She bared her fangs. “Just these.”
He parried an attack from Skalar. “That won’t do. You need iron --”
Suddenly Skalar whipped out a short sword with a metal handle. “Like this?”
Belatedly, Maria saw that it wore gloves on its hands. Was it some kind of faery? The only fae she’d ever seen had been tall, humanoid and ethereally beautiful. Not short, slimy, four-armed and ugly enough to sour milk.
But as she watched, the Seelie fae rushed her again, leading with the crucifix. She darted, pushing aside the pain in her chest and her hands, and made a dive for Skalar and his sword. Driving her shoulder into the creature’s chest, she shoved him to the ground and felt the sword bite into her back. It hurt, but nowhere near as much as the crucifix had.
Beneath her, Skalar hissed, foul breath clouding her face, and she recoiled in disgust. Three of its arms were around her, holding her there, a third striking her repeatedly with the sword.
“Hey, hold her like that, I’ll do her from behind,” came the Seelie’s voice, and Maria turned to snarl over her shoulder at him. If she could just get that goddamned sword --
“The hell you will,” the Unseelie’s cool voice snapped, and then with a blur he grabbed the Seelie and threw him hard at Maria. Before she could wonder what the hell he was doing, the Seelie screamed and went heavy on her.
Between them, the sword dug into her back.
Pain slashed through Maria. The burns from the crucifix hurt almost more than she could bear, and the loss of the blood seeping from the multiple wounds on her back sapped her strength with every second.
Then the Seelie’s body was abruptly flung away from her, and with an anguished cry from Skalar the sword vanished, too. Strong hands grasped her shoulders and pulled her away from the slimy creature, hauled her to her feet.
A voice in her head said, Stand on his arms. Now!
Too bewildered and hurt to wonder what was going on, Maria obeyed, stamping her boots down on the creature’s two left arms. As the Unseelie did the same on its right side, she glanced down and felt a hysterical giggle building inside her. Somewhere along the way she’d lost her mac, and was now standing in sheepskin boots and a sequined dress split halfway up her thigh.
He gave her an odd look, but bent to grasp the arm holding the sword. “Now,” he said to the creature, who was writhing and hissing at them, “either you can drop the sword on the floor so Maria can pick it up --”
“Never!” Skalar spat.
“ -- or you can hold onto it, and I’ll just pull your arm off,” the faery continued calmly.
The creature’s big black eyes darted between them.
“I’ll help him to do it,” Maria said. She felt sick, dizzy, too much pain and too much blood loss, but she stood straight, her fangs bared at the odious creature below her.
The sword clanged on the ground. She darted to pick it up, her head swimming, and made to hand it to the Unseelie.
“No,” he said. “You do it.”
She frowned. In her current state, she was likely to miss. Then she remembered -- of course he couldn’t touch the sword. It would burn him like the crucifix had burned her. His cheek already bore the scar of the last time he’d encountered iron. Under his shirt, she was sure he bore more scars.
“Cut its throat,” he added. “Best way to deal with goblins.”
Goblins. Right.
Skalar writhed and wriggled between them, dislodging her balance. She fell to her knees, still pinning the goblin down, and gathered her strength.
Her first stroke missed, but the second caught the creature in the neck, and she dragged the blade across its slimy skin.
It gurgled, and was still.
“Good girl,” the Unseelie said, and stepped off the creature. He turned to inspect the still body of the Seelie fae, kicked it, sniffed at it, and turned back just in time to see Maria pass out.
Chapter Three
“She needs blood,” came the voice on the other end of the phone. “Only way for a vampire to recover from anything is fresh blood.”
“Human?” Ruarc asked, wondering where the hell he’d get any, and why the hell he was even asking.
“Well, it’s preferable. Most vampires aren’t happy drinking animal blood.”
“I’m not doing this to make her happy, Mags,” he said, wiping his hand over his face and glancing back at the bloody form lying on his bed. She was still wearing her sequined dress, now red with blood.
“So give her pig’s blood. Ruarc, why are you even bothered? I’ll warn you now, you won’t get any thanks from a vampire.”
He stared at Maria for a long time. He didn’t know why. Vaguely, he thought it might be to do with them fighting the goblin and the Seelie together. Maybe. He was too tired to figure it out.
“Does she need to be awake?”
“Not really. She’ll wake up anyway once she tastes the blood.”
“Does she need a lot?” Maybe he could go out and hire a hooker or something to feed her. Find someone homeless. Someone who’d allow themselves to be bitten for money.
“Depends. Pig blood, yes. Human blood, yes.”
“What other kind --”
“Supernatural blood,” Magda said. “She’d only need a few sips of yours or mine.”
Ruarc looked at his own wrist. He’d bled out plenty tonight. What was a little more?
“Right,” he said distantly. “Thanks, Mags.”
“Ruarc, are you all right?”
“Fine,” he said, then, when it appeared something else was needed, added, “I’m just tired. Early morning here.”
“Yes, I know. It’s not even coffee time here.”
“I’ll let you go then,” Ruarc said, and put the phone down before she could protest. Truth be told, he hadn’t really thought a lot about what time it might be in England. He’d tried calling Chloe and Alexius but got no reply -- they were probably having sex -- and automatically moved to the next name on his list, a werewolf attached to the Sundown office in London.
We really need to get more staff, he thought, moving toward the bed. Tomorrow. I’ll sort it out tomorrow.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, loosened his tie and pulled it off. Stripped away his bloody shirt. Watched Maria lying there on her side, very still, not breathing. But then vampires didn’t need to breathe.
There was a cut on his arm, already starting to heal. Grimacing, wondering again why the hell he was doing this, he forced it open again and held it to her mouth.
Nothing. Frustrated, he smeared blood onto her lips with his fingers, parted them, slipped inside --
-- sucked in a sharp breath as a fang pierced his fingertip. Felt all the blood in his body start to rush to that tiny wound.
Well, not all of it. Some of it
rushed south.
Actually, a lot of it rushed south.
Maria’s eyes snapped open, huge and dark, all pupil. Deep black holes to suck him in. And they fixed on him, quite suddenly. Just magnetically grabbed him so he couldn’t look away.
Her lips were hot, soft, wet, and she sucked his fingers deeper, scoring deep lines with her fangs that really ought to have hurt but just didn’t. In fact it was the opposite of pain. The way she was sucking the blood from his fingers felt better than any blow job Ruarc had ever had. And he’d had plenty. Imagine what her mouth could do elsewhere!
His cock hardened so quickly at the thought that it actually did hurt, but Ruarc didn’t care. He hardly noticed. Because Maria was abandoning his fingers, grabbing his arm and piercing the skin of his wrist so his blood flowed faster, stronger, and the rush was unlike anything he’d ever felt.
Blindly, he yanked at her dress, scattering sequins everywhere like falling raindrops. Desperate to feel her skin against his, to touch her soft breasts, palm her sweet round ass, taste her plump nipples. Damn, her breasts were gorgeous. But seeing them wasn’t enough, and stroking them wasn’t either. He dropped his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth, tearing at the fabric still covering her waist.
Maria held his arm firm to her mouth with one hand, but the other was digging into his shoulder, fingers and thumb kneading his muscles. As he bit none too gently on her nipple, she growled against his flesh and abruptly dropped his arm, baring bloodied fangs at him for a bare instant as she grabbed him and hauled his body back up hers.
For a second, just a second, Ruarc realized he was half-naked with a vampire, and then her fangs tore into his neck and the hot sweet pleasure of it shot through him like a shockwave. Before he even knew what he was doing, he was ripping the rest of her dress away and she was doing the same with his clothes, and then her slick flesh was against his throbbing cock and he was shoving inside her.
She growled again, an animalistic sound that vibrated through his body, and wrapped one arm around his neck, and slid the other down to grip his ass as he thrust deep. Her nails broke his skin. Ruarc surged in time with the pulse thundering through him, a pulse she was controlling. He was nearly blind with lust, desperate to push deeper, faster and harder. Her hips bucked against him, her hot wet pussy the slickest, tightest thing he’d ever felt.