by Claudy Conn
He called after me, “Well, now, ye don’t need to hot-wire a car, and ye don’t want to be driving, foolish girl.” He had my arm in a flash of a moment. “We are in the North of Ireland. It would take ye hours to get to Dublin.”
“Okay, Mr. Smirky-mouth. How was I supposed to know that?” I snapped.
“Och, lass, I’m sorry about yer … friend …” he started.
I almost burst into tears and told him, “Not just a friend.”
He stiffened but pulled me in and held me. He just held me. “I’m sorry for it, Harley McDagus.”
I looked up and into those brilliant, glittering, and, I knew all at once, alien eyes and was swept away. In that moment I realized this immortal had won me over.
I had to shake myself loose from the spell of his warm gaze. Oh, I was in trouble here. Love and lust were not things I wanted. Hell … lust was not what I wanted. Not now. I had other priorities.
Once, when I worriedly confided to my mother that I liked William, even loved him, but was not in love, she said as she stroked my hair, “Love comes unbidden and when you least expect it.” Right, Mom—here it is.
He took my hand. I tried to maintain my independence by yanking against his hold. He wouldn’t let go and actually growled at me, “Trust me, lass … trust me to look out for ye.”
I couldn’t respond. I was definitely caught up in the moment, and the truth was I was also totally conflicted.
He said softly, “I’m going to shift us to Dublin. Steady now.” He stared into my eyes, and what I saw was a world of wonder.
The next thing I knew I was in his arms, and his mouth closed on mine. His kiss was a gentle pressure, and tender was his tongue, caressing mine. I wanted to surrender to his kiss, to the moment, and forget everything else.
He came away from that kiss, and I lowered my gaze, suddenly, ridiculously embarrassed. He said, “Trust me, lass. I’ll do ye no harm, and I’ll be there for ye when ye need me.”
Was he offering friendship? Was his kiss that of comfort? What else could he offer? Sex, lusty, hot sex. Maybe I could use both. “And then what?” I asked.
“For now, our mission is for ye to look for the Hallow and for me to make a grand gesture to do so. Hopefully Banks will fall for the bait.”
“Well, what am I looking for? What does it look like?” We were both avoiding the fact that he had just kissed me.
“The Fari Hallow looks like an ordinary bronze urn. It is etched with arcane words, Danu words. I believe it would call to me if I was near, or I would feel the pulse of its power, but I don’t intend to really look for it. That is yer job.”
“It would call to you because—why? Why would it call to you?” I asked, pinning him with my gaze. The bright iridescence of his eyes shouted Fae. Was he Fae?
“Och, lass, so full of questions. Does it matter so very much what I am? We have a united goal.”
“If it doesn’t matter, why won’t you tell me?”
He had my face then in his two hands, and our gazes locked. He whispered, “Yer amber eyes so full now with green sparkles … do ye know how ye shine, lass? Do ye know?”
“Answer the question,” I told him and realized my words sounded breathless.
He withdrew. I saw him harden, and he said, “I’m thinking I’ll lead Banks to some of the most exclusive antique shops in Dublin.”
There was nothing for it. I had to drop the subject—for now. “And you want me to take on the dingy, old, out-of-the-way shops.”
“It might serve if ye don’t do anything to draw attention to yerself,” he said roughly.
“Okay, Mr. Immortal … time to shift.”
~ Six ~
MY IMMORTAL SHIFTED us to Dublin and then sent me off with a list of places he had put together. He winked and then vanished. He had said he would make a spectacle of himself as he searched some of the most unlikely places the Hallow would be. He hoped that Banks would be drawn to him and that unseen he could then track him to his lair while I searched in earnest.
With my hybrid speed I started hitting antiques shops.
I had an advantage: my new inner witch could immediately recognize magical objects—Fae or otherwise. I had learned that little fact early on while I trained with Mike and Tanya. I hadn’t mentioned this to Kian yet … not sure why. I guess I still had trust issues. Who did I trust with the most important goal of my life?
As much as I loved my mom, I felt she’d been wrong not to prepare me for that day. I should have been told about Banks. I wasn’t sure what I could have done to change it, but I also wasn’t sure keeping me in the dark was the right way to go.
Maybe she and my dad would be alive if only we had all discussed the possibilities? That was all moot. No sense thinking about it.
At any rate, Mike and Tanya had prepared me for Relic hunting. They owned a couple of Fae artifacts. I wasn’t sure why or how that came to be. The important thing was what I learned.
As it happened, when I approached a Fae Relic, even when they had hidden it from me, something magical began to hum in my brain. When I moved closer to the object, the humming got louder. When I touched it, the humming turned into a song, lilting and beautiful, and reminded me of Ireland.
Tanya said that sometimes Fae Fios (humans that can see the Fae past their magic) are called sounders because they also have the ability to find and identify Fae artifacts. She said she didn’t know why, but I seemed to have the gift.
I suppose I didn’t want Mr. Immortal to use me as a divining rod, so for the time being I had decided to keep this piece of info to myself.
I had hit about eight or nine shops when I found myself on a quiet street in front of a whimsical, arched door. The shop sported a black and gold striped awning over the door, which was stained glass and oak. The sign read, ‘You Must Have It’.
My body began to vibrate inwardly. Magic. There was strong mana inside this shop.
I was ready for anything and opened the door to look inside without quite going inside. Caution, I told myself. Even so, magic hit me like a bolt of energy, and for a moment I felt dizzy.
I stood staring at a cluttered galley of what looked to be centuries-old antiques and oddities; everything was out of focus and then slowly began to clear.
The shop was dimly lit and full of everything and anything old. Knick-knacks that looked as though they belonged in a Disney palace were scattered on shelves and tables. Paintings I immediately (I love art) recognized as treasures were propped up everywhere. And there were weapons on the wall I knew at once were for supernaturals: Death Weapons.
I should run. Oh yeah, running now, I told myself and stood frozen in place.
Fear tickled my brain, but curiosity won over. Even so, I didn’t advance. The pulse of power jiggling every nerve in my body told me dark magic was well and alive in this shop, but it wasn’t really dark … maybe gray?
What the hell.
I weaved my way through stacks of small occasional tables and oddities and then stopped short. A sound at my back made me turn.
My mouth fell open and stayed that way a moment.
He was tall and wore a cone hat of blue dotted throughout with glittering crescent moons and stars. White, soft hair hung to his shoulders beneath the hat and framed his pink and lovely face. Sparkling eyes smiled at me, as did thin lips above his silky, long white beard. He wore a robe whose hem touched the floorboards and matched his conical hat. In his hand he held a wand whose power I could feel radiating in waves.
Wizard, my brain told me. Here was a wizard with enormous power.
He smiled, and I smiled back. Crazy, I know, but that’s what happened.
He came towards me, one hand outstretched to take mine, and I had the feeling that we had met ‘once upon a time’.
“Well, well,” he said softly with a soft and refined English accent. “You found your way to me as I knew you would.”
“Ah …” I said, not really able yet to speak, not sure if I should.
; “Well, little American with the Irish red hair, you look so much like your mother,” he said, and then his smile suddenly vanished. “I was sorry to learn of our loss … your loss.”
“You knew my mom?” I was astounded enough to ask and then hungry to hear more about her.
“Aye, how could I not? She was very special. She often brought you by on yer visits to us just outside Dublin.”
Suddenly a memory floated in my brain, and I saw myself with him and a woman … his mate, and my face must have expressed this memory, as he said, “Ah, you do remember.”
I did remember. “Yes, I remember you and Miss Charmie.”
He laughed. “Indeed. Her name is Charm, but you always called her Charmie. You were a delightful child.” He sighed sadly. “Your mother left her coven to live with your father in the mountains of New York, but she always came by to visit us and her coven. Have you met with them yet?”
“I … I didn’t know she even had a coven … She didn’t speak of them to me.” I was absolutely flabbergasted. Another secret she had kept. Why?
“Ah, I’m sure she had her reasons,” he said quietly.
I wanted to pull up a chair and just hear him talk about my mom. I asked, “Did you know my dad as well?”
“Of course! Your mother always visited with him after they were married. It was Charm that gave him the ‘potion’ to help him and his clan resist the thirst. Quite a gentleman.” He sighed. “We must do something about stopping Carsen Banks. Have you a plan?” He touched my shoulder, and what he was slammed into my head: power, so much power, and not all of it white magic. He wasn’t just a wizard; he was one from another realm. I knew it at once, and some of my childhood memories of him scooted fore and center. I dove at him and hugged him around his middle.
He laughed and patted my back. “There, there, child. You have had a trauma, a terrible trauma, but you will do.”
“You are Rysdale … the Wizard Rysdale … I remember,” I said and stepped back to look at his dear face.
He smiled and pulled something out of a slit along his robe. It was a small, round packet, and as he placed it in both my hands he said, “You will need this if it is the Fari Hallow you are looking for. That Hallow must not fall into Banks’s hands. It would be catastrophic for all living things. You must secure it and keep it safe.”
“What is it?” I asked, about to open it the package.
He closed my hand over it and said, “Do not open it now. It is a very special artifact that I have made for you. Keep it close and let it guide you, my dear. Let it guide you. You’ll need to pay attention. Not all things are as obvious as we would like. Mind me now. There isn’t much time … days only, perhaps.”
“Will this stop him?”
“The future is not ours to predict. This will take you where you need to go.” He sighed. “At the moment, we, Charm and I, are in the midst of a problem involving yet another evil—my brother. Otherwise, I would be on hand.”
I felt a rush of excitement. Finally, a lead, something that could help us.
“Should I bring it back to you when we are done?”
He laughed and took my fingers to bend over them ‘Old World’ style. “When you are done and all is well, it will come back to me on its own.”
The next thing I knew I was standing on that same quiet street, but the whimsical shop with all its treasures and my dear Rysdale was gone. The small brown package, however, was still in my hand.
I slipped it into my inner jacket pocket and turned to search out my immortal and tell him the good news. Odd how I thought of him as mine. He wasn’t. She didn’t want him at the moment, but he seemed to belong to Tara. Does he, my inner witch asked. He keeps on kissing you. Hope is a dangerous entity, a palpable one that humans need to survive. I knew better. Hope wasn’t real.
I turned onto the avenue and tried to track Kian.
I didn’t pick up his scent, but another one came to me on the breeze. Its stench and what it reminded me of made me want to upchuck.
He was close, very close—no more than a block or so at my back.
It was the scent of werewolf. The very wolf that had killed William and so many others of my clan. He was at my back and in human form.
~ Seven ~
HIS SCENT FLOODED my head with the memory of that day.
His scent reminded me that I had helplessly watched him tear out William’s throat and move on to do the same to my other dear ones. He had howled with vicious glee.
A wolf takes no joy in the kill. A wolf kills to eat or protect its territory or its pack. He wasn’t, in my opinion, a wolf but a beast.
He was Carbo, and while training with Mike I had learned a great deal about him and the others that had killed my clan. I knew about his reputation; it wasn’t pretty. He and Carsen Banks had killed many werewolves that refused to join their pack.
Now, apparently, he was on my trail. A sneer made its way across my face, and my fingers curled. I had the advantage.
He wouldn’t even recognize my new scent, but obviously he had picked up on the scent of my wolf/shifter and meant to corner me. I meant to let him have what he wanted for the moment.
Want to corner me? Fine … bring it.
I should have felt a twinge of fear. Fear would be natural, wouldn’t it? After all, I had been killed in a confrontation with weres and their alpha. What I felt instead was anxious need—the need that comes when you have made a vow to avenge the ones you love and the opportunity to do so arises.
Anticipation flooded through my blood and made me open and then close my fists as I got ready.
My inner vamp was on high alert, my shifter was pumped up, but my witch … oh, my witch was out and taking command of her hybrid partners. Revenge, justice—who the hell cared what it was called. I wanted it so badly I could taste it, and, no, it wasn’t bitter at all.
I didn’t have to turn to know he was gaining on me. My nose twitched as he got closer, and my inner wolf knew exactly where he was. When we wolves/shifters put our noses to the air, we can pick up scents more than a mile away.
My witch, however, held my wolf at bay. We had a plan.
I left the crowd and took a side street. I knew exactly where I was going. I saw it all in my head. I led him to a narrow alley that led to a dead-end. There was nowhere to run.
As he got closer, I sensed his doubt, so I turned and allowed him to think I was afraid. I wanted him to advance, and he did.
All at once, he stopped, and I heard a small gasp make its way to his mouth.
“It can’t be,” he said out loud. “You were dead.”
At my back was a tall brick wall. On one side of us, a windowless three-story building, on the other, a two-story building with dirty, narrow windows. I quickly and silently spelled them and the alley. No one was going to see what was about to take place.
I felt his astonishment with relish. Good. I wanted him to know who I was before I tore him apart.
I had the advantage. He didn’t know what I had become. He still thought I was a vampire and that his wolf bite was deadly to me. Well, I had a nice little surprise for him.
I was about to put all my training into use. I had been turned into a killing machine. He was going to be my first victim.
I put on a girly face and wrung my hands. “Oh, please … please, don’t hurt me.”
He snarled. “I don’t know how you survived … but this time, you won’t.” He was a sociopath. I knew he would suffer not an ounce of remorse, compassion, or mercy. He was a monster—deadly vermin that needed to be eliminated. I was pleased to be the eliminator.
He got close, no more than ten feet away, and displayed his fangs. He wanted me to beg some more before he tortured and killed me. His voice was raspy, but he had not changed into wolf. That meant it had been magic that allowed them to change into werewolf without the moon that awful day. “Hurt you? Girl, I am going to hurt you so bad you will wish you died that day with the others.”
I smiled and to
ok a stance. “Seriously? You think you can accomplish what your alpha, Banks, couldn’t?” I said to taunt him.
He stopped in mid-lunge and seemed to have second thoughts. “What are you?” he asked, and I could almost see his mind working.
“You tell me. What am I, Carbo? Oh, I know … your death. Here and now.”
He laughed, but there was a nervous edge to the sound that I enjoyed. Oh, I wanted him nervous, frightened … as much as I wanted him dead.
“Only one of us is dying … and it ain’t me.” He sneered and started for me.
Up close I saw his eyes, and everything that happened that ugly, awful day flooded back into my brain. He had been vicious and merciless—they all had been. They had ripped and shredded my dearest loved ones.
I was hardened against any thought but ripping him to pieces. He was a beta wolf, one of Banks’s guardians. Right now he was in human form. I would have liked to take him down as he had been that day, in wolf form, but I wasn’t waiting for the full moon.
Still, I wondered, so I taunted him some more. “So, wolf-up and do your worst.”
“You’re a vamp,” he said derisively. “No match for me. I can take you even in my human form.” He bared his canines and drooled. Ugh.
I didn’t know how easy it would be until I did it for real. With Mike I was never sure if he had let me get the better of him. Now I knew; he hadn’t.
I sidestepped Carbo with (if I do say so myself) beautiful agility. He toppled forward. I brought down both my fists and some, only some, of my hybrid strength down on his back. He hit the pavement like a belly whop. “Oomph,” he grunted.
I stepped back.
The brick wall at my back was good cover. We were alone. No one would see what I was about to do next.
It was obviously from his pugnacious expression that he honestly didn’t know death was surrounding him and nipping at his heels. His beta position at Banks’s side had apparently made him cocky—and if possible even nastier than I knew him to be. He got up and stood staring at me, and then he said, “You are going to die slow for that lucky punch, bitch.”