Sliver of Silver (Blushing Death)

by Sabol, Suzanne M.

  “A warrior then?” he said as Patrick disappeared through the purple velvet curtain behind the DJ booth.

  “If you like.”

  “I would not trust my uncle to anything less,” he said, striding through the curtain.

  “Making impressions everywhere you go,” Niyati said under her breath with a smile my way.

  “Ha ha.” I laughed, heavy on the sarcasm. “Now get in there,” I ordered. She couldn’t help but obey. I made one last weapons check and took a deep breath before stepping over the threshold and letting the curtain swish closed behind me. Nervous? Me? No way.

  Patrick had rearranged the furniture in the VIP Room to create a comfortable conversation area with several large red-leather couches facing each other. An oversized round glass top coffee table sat in the center. The bar was along the South wall just inside the door.

  Patrick and Dean sat on one couch with Jackson on the door we’d all just come through. Alex sat prettily on a bar stool with Niyati at attention to Dean’s right. I stood behind the couch that Patrick and Dean sat with my back to the wall. The emergency exit was on my right. I could see the entire room and all the possible attack points. With the lights on, the room was painted a deep purple with red leather furniture and a shiny crystal bar. The wall behind the bar was floor-to-ceiling mirrors, lined with bottles of top-shelf alcohol, glasses, and stock. The walls were soundproofed with a separate sound system. The heavy thump of the base from the club outside was almost forgotten except for the heavy thump of my heart in time with the beat of the music.

  I stood with my arms loose at my sides, watching the Fae arrange themselves on and around the sofa. Saeran sat on the sofa in-between Aoife and Cianna. I’d never seen so much beauty collected in one place before. My heart ached a little to know that I’d never compare to them. No human would.

  Feoras, the giant marbled man, found the far corner where he could see the entire room, both exits, and my hands behind the couch. He positioned himself like a giant roman statue. Fergal took his place behind Saeran with his back to the curtain, mirroring me, while Meara sat on the floor to Cianna’s left like a pet.

  I couldn’t get over how much Saeran resembled Byron. Both of Saeran’s forms, his Fae and Glamour forms, were attractive but his real face was stark, his features sharper and more intimidating. There was warmth and authority in his eyes, though, that wasn’t captured in the picture.

  “It was very gracious of you to see us on such short notice,” Saeran said with a flippant wave of his hand.

  “You are most welcome. How could I have turned down so honored a guest?” Patrick purred with the velvety voice that would be dangerous for anyone he considered prey.

  Aoife shivered as Patrick’s voice, filled with his power, caressed her skin as if he’d actually touched her. She clearly wasn’t accustomed to interacting with vampires. Even if she were, Patrick was better than any vampire I’d ever come into contact with.

  Saeran’s eyes met mine again in wonder and an inquisitive cock of his eyebrow. His eyes danced with unidentified possibilities.

  “Most would not have taken the risk,” Saeran admitted as he focused his complete attention on me.

  I met his daffodil yellow eyes with defiance. If he wanted to prove he was scarier than me, he was going to have to show me.

  The warmth of Dean’s power and the Pack flared around me, caressing me as it filled the room with his musky woodsy scent. Saeran turned his gaze from me to the annoyed Gaoh in the room. Don’t ever ignore the annoyed Gaoh.

  “I mean no disrespect, Gaoh,” he said, a worried expression furrowing his green brow. “She intrigues me, for a human,” Saeran said by way of an apology. He shifted his gaze to Patrick. He probably thought Patrick was safer than Dean.

  I think he was asking for help.

  “Why?” Patrick asked. “She is, as you said, only human.” His soft voice was prodding, begging the Fae King to say something to give himself away.

  Saeran glanced about the room at the members of our party. Dean bristled with power. Alex teetered on the edge of her seat ready to pounce, feigning boredom. Jackson stood at the ready but had a look of ambivalence and Niyati had her hand clasped around her wrist so tight her knuckles turned her dark Indian skin white from the pressure. The only one who seemed unaffected was Patrick. I knew better. His anxiety sat like a chunk of ice in my gut.

  “She stands at your back as a warrior but she is human,” Saeran said. “She watches me as if she knows me.” He narrowed his gaze on me.

  “You remind me of someone,” I admitted.

  “Ah, she speaks freely in your presence,” Saeran said, sitting back between Aoife and Cianna, seeming more relaxed. “Not many rulers would allow their warriors free reign to express their thoughts in front of company.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was chastising or not.

  “Yes, Dahlia is human, as you so kindly pointed out,” Patrick said with a shrewd tone to his voice. “She is also one of my most trusted advisors and a warrior who has proven herself in battle many times over.”

  I could hear the smile of pride in his voice without having to see his face.

  “I would be honored to hear such tales but that does not explain the Gaoh’s protectiveness,” Saeran said with a goading smile.

  “She is Pack,” Dean growled.

  “But she is human?” Aoife asked, directing her question to Saeran.

  “She is Pack,” Dean reiterated.

  “Interesting.” Saeran tented his fingers before his lips and watched all of us for a long moment. “What could you have done to warrant the respect of an entire wolf pack including the Gaoh?” He attempted to hide his caution with a respectful smile but the swirling glint in his eyes gave him away.

  “She fought and killed Middonaitoshoo Asshu,” Alex whispered.

  Saeran sat up, his eyes darting from Alex to Patrick and then finally to me. There was concern in his gaze and, I thought, a hint of relief.

  The muscles along Fergal’s shoulders tensed but his eyes remained neutral. I envied the mask of indifference he wore.

  Saeran sat back, trying to regain his composure as his eyes met mine, the pupils making his daffodil eyes enormous.

  “Of whom do I remind you?” he asked with a slight quiver of uncertainty in his voice.

  For the first time, I thought I might be looking at the real Saeran. His eyes were open to all emotion and his hands trembled as his façade of royal condescension cracked. My gut clenched in agony as I thought of Byron begging me to take his life, begging me to free him. I turned clear eyes up to meet Saeran’s piercing daffodil-colored gaze.

  “He said his name was Byron.” My voice sounded as if it was filled with gravel.

  Saeran’s eyes closed and he exhaled in audible pain then raised his hand to cover his nephew’s, which had landed on Saeran’s shoulder in an odd display of comfort. It was a gesture of sentimentality and emotion I hadn’t expected from their stiff exteriors.

  “What happened to him?” Fergal asked.

  The warrior was shaken. I heard it in the quiver in his voice.

  Patrick turned to glance back at me with sympathy in his dark eyes. He knew how much Byron had torn me apart but he nodded for me to proceed.

  “I found him in a dark basement, chained to a wall surrounded by blood and human flesh. Midnight Ash had been feeding humans to him,” I said as quickly as I could get the words out. “He begged me to put him out of his misery.” I could still see him in my mind, pleading through the darkness for me to end his suffering.

  “So I did.”

  Saeran released a heavy shuddering sigh at my words, sitting for a long while as the room waited in silence for some sign that it was all right to speak again. He finally stood, bowing deep from his waist, then turned his face up to meet my ast
onished gaze.

  “Then you have done for my brother what I could not. When I discovered he had been enthralled by Midnight Ash, I left him to her. I thought it better he was alive than dead by my hand. I am in your debt.”

  Patrick stiffened.

  Alex’s eyes went wide with disbelief.

  I didn’t understand what had just happened but evidently it was important.

  “When they speak of the Blushing Death, they speak only of her savagery, of her kills, of the fear she instills in those she hunts. They say nothing of her mercy or her honor,” Fergal whispered with a slight bow of his head.

  “He was your brother?” I asked Saeran. He nodded. “And your father?” I asked Fergal. He nodded, mirroring Saeran. “Then I am sorry for your loss and for my participation in it.” Even I heard my voice quake with remorse.

  “I imagine you did the only honorable thing for a fellow warrior,” Cianna said as she took Saeran’s hand in hers. “I believe we have the answer we need,” she said, rising gracefully to her feet. She motioned to the other Fae to do the same. Meara, Aoife, and Feoras followed her to the door.

  “Alex, could you please show our guests around?” Patrick suggested with an accommodating smile.

  Alex hopped off the bar stool and crossed the room without a word. Dean nodded to Jackson and Niyati to follow. Jackson growled his disagreement low in his throat.

  “Go,” I snarled. I was tired of his disobedience, tired of him.

  Saeran’s eyes turned up to meet mine, widened with surprise as Jackson flinched at my command. Jackson hesitated for a moment before he followed Niyati out. Sooner than I had expected, there were only five of us.

  “She ranks high in your pack?” Saeran asked.

  “That is an issue, among others, that we are becoming more and more aware of,” Patrick said.

  Patrick, Dean, and I turned questioning eyes to Fergal.

  “Fergal is my nephew and has been like a son to me. He is my heir to the Sidhe throne,” Saeran said. “He is aware of all my business and the business of the Sidhe.”

  “Saeran, we would be happy to have your Sidhe relocate into our territory. I don’t believe, as some do, that having the Fae diminish in magic would be a benefit to our world,” Patrick said.

  I envied Patrick’s diplomacy, his cunning, and his ability to turn any situation to his own benefit.

  “Under normal circumstances, I would confer with my advisors in the Sidhe but I feel that step is unnecessary.”

  “Uncle!” Fergal snapped.

  “My dear boy,” Saeran said, sounding almost like an indulgent parent. “When you have lived as long as I have, you will remember this night as something that changed our fortunes. We so very rarely see honor from his kind.” Saeran motioned to Patrick. “The packs have grown weak over the centuries but here sits a Gaoh whose strength seeps from his pores,” Saeran almost cooed. He finally turned dazzling, sparkling yellow eyes to me. “And a human of mercy and savagery to balance them out.” He watched all three of us in our turn with an examining glare. “Fergal, send a message to your Aunt Riona,” he ordered. “She must prepare the Sidhe.”

  Fergal nodded to his uncle and murmured, “Yes, Uncle.” He left his king unattended and unguarded.

  Saeran noticed my concern. “He is young, only 600 years old. He has grown accustomed to living amongst humans and their technology. He knows not of what our magic can be once Sidhe is returned to its full glory.” He met my eyes. “He also has no idea what kind of power can be found in the service of a Fertiri,” he added.

  Dean shot from the couch and was on his feet before anyone could stop him. Neither Saeran nor Patrick moved. Dean’s anxiety trickled at the edge of his power like hot popping grease on the stove. Instead of the warm bath of power I was used to, there was a shock of fear around the edges. I placed my hand on Dean’s shoulder and he tensed a fraction of an inch beneath my fingertips but it was enough for everyone in the room to notice.

  “Tre,” I breathed. “He’s unarmed and outnumbered,” I whispered with a light laugh. “I think we can handle him.”

  Patrick glared from me to Dean, concern crinkling the skin at the corner of his dark eyes.

  “She’s right. He’s not a threat,” Patrick hissed.

  “I didn’t say that,” I said, catching Patrick’s dark gaze. I dropped my hand from Dean’s shoulder, feeling the loss of his warmth in my hand, like I’d stuck my fingers into a bag of ice. “He’s still extremely dangerous but I will not attack an unarmed man unprovoked,” I said.

  Saeran nodded.

  Dean returned to his seat, somewhat calm and as friendly as he got.

  “As you can see,” Patrick said, clearing his throat. “We have a delicate situation on our hands.”

  “And a dangerous one, I think,” Saeran replied. “I believe there is a standing edict to slay all Fertiri’s on sight, is there not?”

  “There is,” Patrick said.

  “And you did not,” Saeran stated.

  “No.”

  “May I ask why?” Saeran asked.

  Patrick turned to me with a smile gleaming in his dark eyes.

  “I couldn’t have hurt her if I wanted to,” he whispered.

  “Ah, then it is an emotional bond. Those are always the strongest, but as Cleopatra demonstrated,” he said and added under his breath, “to the detriment of all Fertiris, unfortunately, what can happen when those bonds are broken or even unstable. Madness, jealousy, and treachery.” He paused. “You have questions?”

  “We didn’t want to ask too many questions and risk her,” Dean said.

  I faced him in astonishment. How long had they been talking about this without me? Patrick wouldn’t risk me but Dean would see to his Pack first and do what was best for them. He wasn’t as sentimental as Patrick. That’s one of the reasons I appreciated him.

  “How do we control it? If the power gets away from us,” Dean growled. “Away from her.”

  “I think you are still finding your way. This is new, is it not?” Saeran asked.

  Patrick nodded.

  “I also do not think your bonds are balanced,” he said, narrowing his gaze on me. “Are they?”

  “No,” I replied. “They’re not.”

  “That will also cause some fluctuation, I would assume. Power is a delicate balance of emotion, force, intent and control. Over time you will gain the control and balance you need to be truly powerful,” he said with a small knowing smile. “It will be good to be in the presence of such power again. America cannot be Erin but we could make this continent a power to be reckoned with.”

  “We will have to be powerful,” Patrick said, almost to himself. “The Sidhe moving to my territory will be taken as an affront to Ciro and his territory along the eastern seaboard.”

  “Ciro has been too long in his Onyx tower to notice the comings and goings of his own people, let alone mine. It will be some time before he notices we are even gone.” Saeran’s voice sounded cold and calculating.

  “He will not expect our growth,” Dean snarled.

  Saeran turned entertained eyes up to me and said, “I believe Ciro will be surprised on several fronts.”

  “You may be right,” Patrick said, relaxing back into the red leather sofa and sliding his arms over the back, the perfect picture of casual cool, no matter how much his anxiety twinged in my gut.

  The evening settled into a comfortable banter filled with food, wine, and me, still cautious and on guard. Someone had to watch our backs and be in charge while Patrick, Dean, and Saeran made nice. Besides, making nice wasn’t my strong suit.

  Chapter 20

  I was tired of this damned forest. I ran, racing to get somewhere I knew in my gut was too far away and that I’d be too late anyway. I was making better tim
e. I wasn’t constrained by as many obstacles like every other time I’d run through this godforsaken forest. Breathing a sigh of relief, I breezed by the bushes without cutting my flesh or slowing down. I glanced down at my unrestrained feet. I was running on four dainty light-colored paws instead of two cumbersome feet. It should have scared me shitless but anticipation made the voice inside me urge me forward. She thought I might finally get there in time. Maybe this time I could make it.

  I threw my head back and howled. The melodic soprano of my voice echoed through the trees, filling the dark of night with my excitement and my hope.

  The world looked different from three feet off the ground. The trees seemed bigger and the bushes thicker, harder to maneuver around. Leaves covered the forest floor, giving off the faintest scent of decay, mixed with the wet aquarium smell of the forest after a few solid days of rain.

  The scent of the grouse hiding in the underbrush tweaked my nose. The sound of rabbits running for cover and the musical chirps of the robins in the trees filled the night as I raced by. There was no time to stop and chase them. I had somewhere to be. Breaking through the trees and into the familiar clearing, I became bathed in a long sliver of silver light from the full moon above.

  Danny stood in the center of the clearing. Two men circled him.

  Patrick and Dean made wide strides around him. My haunches rose in alert as they circled him. I opened my mouth to ask what the hell they were doing but nothing came out. Instead, I growled low in my chest, feeling the sound rumble against my ribs and vibrate up my throat as it grew louder. All three men turned to face me. Danny’s eyes met mine, relief slumping his shoulders.

  Patrick and Dean froze, expectant. I stalked over on four light paws. Leaping high into the air, I landed on Danny’s chest and forced him to the ground. I extended my claws and punctured his skin with my sharp, silvery talons. And the hot rush of Danny’s blood seeped beneath the pads of my paws as he screamed.