The other situation which gave me an inordinate sense of pride, accomplishment and relief was that we defeated my father. The Resistance prevailed and the time for a new Netherworld order was currently underway. That single feeling, in and of itself, was enough to put the wind back into my sails.
Speaking of my father, we managed to capture all of his remaining thugs, along with the few Netherworld Guard soldiers who happened to still be on my father’s estate. Afterwards, we secured them in the holding cells of my father’s dungeon, intent on delivering them to a longer term prison in the near future.
Meanwhile, Knight phoned Caressa and informed her she was now officially the Head of the Netherworld. In order to ensure her safety, Knight arranged for fifty of our remaining soldiers to travel to Caressa, lest she become the victim of an assassination attempt. She, however, assured Knight that there were Netherworld Guard forces under her command who weren’t corrupt. And she would be quick to instruct this loyal Guard to fan out and infiltrate the various bases throughout the Netherworld, informing everyone of the new order. Anyone who questioned or defied her authority would be instantly arrested with no questions asked.
“Dulce, maybe you should rest for a little while?” Knight suggested as he glanced over at me with concern knitting his brows. After agreeing to use Willoughby House as our ad hoc base, we turned to the enormous task of rallying the rest of our troops, triaging the wounded from the dead from the unharmed.
Knight sat behind an immense desk in the drawing room, with Sam and Erica on each side of him. The three of them examined a list of the names of our soldiers and recruits. They had the unfortunate task of notating next to each name whether that person was wounded, dead, unharmed or simply unaccounted for.
At last call, the only people from The Resistance still unaccounted for were Rachel, Fagan and Trey.
I leaned against the pane of the window seat on which I was sitting, directly across from Knight’s desk. “I’m fine,” I said with a look that warned him not to argue with me. Then I flashed Sam the same expression as soon as I saw her making “Mom” eyes at me. Usually, those eyes meant a batch of her famous chocolate chip cookies, but now all they said was that I should go to bed and rest. And for me, that was no bueno.
Knight glanced at Sam who looked back at him, both of them wearing the expression of “gotta love her but she’s stubborn as hell.” Turning his indescribably handsome face back toward me, he smiled as he stood up and walked around the desk. He motioned for me to bend down so he could check the bandage he’d affixed to my lower back. I leaned forward, groaning involuntarily, but allowed him to play nurse.
“Looks good,” he announced before fluffing the pillow behind me. He was careful to avoid my sore side as he helped me get comfy again. Since my gunshot wound, my wings hadn’t flapped once. I actually hoped the bullet might have severed whatever was telling my wings to go Tasmanian Devil all the time. But maybe that was too much to hope for.
“Is Quill conscious yet?” I asked. After my father died, our soldiers quickly removed Quill from the dungeon of Willoughby House. And just as my father mentioned earlier in the library, Quill wasn’t dead. He was merely in a trance, a victim of the warlock’s magic. Sam did her best to break the warlock’s spell and later informed us that Quill would be fine. He just needed to sleep it off.
Knight nodded with a sigh. “Quillan is fine, Dulce,” he said, but added hurriedly, “however, you are in no shape to see him. So get that thought out of your mind until your health improves substantially.”
I frowned at him, but felt a burning sensation as I shifted and my lower back demonstrated his prognosis. Honestly, I doubted if I could have walked the distance to the doorway, let alone to wherever Quill was recuperating.
“I second that!” Dia called out. She walked through the drawing room entry, her hands on her hips while her neck moved in that diva way, which meant I better not argue with her. “Girl, you need ta take care of yourself, you hear me?”
Luckily, our soldiers had been able to locate Dia about two hours ago when they started their recon missions to recover our missing soldiers. Dia wasn’t too far from Squander Valley and had about twenty soldiers with her. As for Christina, she’d managed to get in touch with us over the radio. That was maybe twenty minutes ago. Now Dia was on her way to retrieve our leader. Well, that is, Dia and the jaw-droppingly sexy man who had been by her side from the moment the two were located.
“Don’t you have someplace to go?” I grumbled, not liking the idea of one more person playing the part of advice giver. Although I knew I could put Sam and Knight off, when it came to Dia, I wasn’t so sure.
“Seems to me that someone got shot on the wrong side of the bed, y’all,” she said with a frown, alternating her gaze between Knight, Erica and Sam before she looked back at me as her frown deepened.
Hoping to change the conversation, I drew her attention back to the sex god who stood beside her. “So are you going to introduce me to your stunningly handsome friend or what?” I groaned.
Dia eyed the man standing beside her and flashed him her huge smile, a smile which lit up her entire face as her eyes settled on his. “Oh, him,” she said dismissively. She even waved at him with indifference before pretending to examine her fingernails.
“Yeah, him!” the man threw back at her, a smile cresting his sumptuous lips as his eyes told her in no uncertain terms just what sort of carnal appetite he had for her.
Dia grinned at me. “He’s just some hot Loki I happened to pick up somewhere along the way,” she said, sighing as if it were no big deal.
“A Loki?” I asked with a smile and then looked over at Knight. He wore the same amused expression I did.
“That’s right, girl,” Dia continued, alternating her gaze between Knight and me. “I mean, there’s only so long a girl can wait, an’ that Loki (she pointed at Knight) was takin’ his sweet ass time.” Then she said to me. “This diva was gettin’ hungry!”
I just shook my head and started to laugh before my back began to ache and I had to swallow the rest of my amusement. Meanwhile, Knight smiled at the man beside Dia. “Cannon,” he greeted him with a friendly tilt of his head.
“Vander,” Cannon replied, giving Knight a duplicate of the nod Knight had just given him. On a list of hot men, Cannon would easily have been at the top. As a Loki, he was on the tall side, maybe as tall as Knight, with broad, powerful shoulders and equally striking legs. His skin was almost as dark as Dia’s. Whereas Dia’s round, chocolate eyes lit up her entire face, Cannon’s eyes were a crystalline green. They were so remarkable, I had a hard time prying my attention from them. His face was a blend of chiseled lines. His square jaw, lush, plump lips and high cheekbones almost looked sculpted.
Cannon’s back was still toward Dia, and she began fanning herself when her eyes settled on Cannon’s perfectly formed butt. After taking Cannon in from head to toe one more time, I returned my attention to Dia. With a simple nod, I let her know she was right on the money. Yep, she’d landed herself a hottie.
“Ms. Robinson,” Cannon said as he turned to face Dia again with a sexy grin. “Don’t we have places to go and Resistance team leaders to find?”
“Honey, how many times have I told you not to call me Ms. Robinson?” Dia piped up with her hands on her hips. “Diva will do just fine.”
Laughing her contagious giggle, she started for the door, wiggling her hips as Cannon came up behind her and swatted her on the butt, their laughter drifting through the hallway as they disappeared around the corner.
No sooner did they exit than one of our soldiers poked his head in the door. “Sir,” he said, addressing Knight, who sat on the desk, still trying to reach Fagan through the walkie-talkie.
“Yep?” Knight answered.
“Where would you like us to put the rest of the wounded? The dining room is filled to capacity,” the soldier answered.
The living room was our first makeshift ward for the wounded, then the dining
room. I could only wonder how many soldiers from each side were wounded because they just kept coming. Although I preferred not to think about it, the dead were temporarily sheltered in the guesthouse, across from the main house. My vantage point at the window seat allowed me to watch body after body being taken inside the house. Not only were we laying our dead soldiers there, but my father’s as well.
“Which rooms are still empty on the first floor?” Knight asked.
“There are two bedrooms next to each other at the end of the hall, sir. Also the kitchen and two bathrooms.”
“Start filling the two bedrooms,” Knight answered as the soldier nodded and left the room. Knight returned to his walkie-talkie, but eventually placed it on the desktop with a defeated sigh, still receiving no response.
A sense of worry brewed inside me while the question of where Trey was continued to gnaw at me, just like it had been for the past three hours. Yes, I was worried about Fagan too, but to a much lesser extent (it wasn’t like the Drow made it easy to like him). Regardless, I had to know if Trey was okay, which was why I couldn’t adhere to the advice of Sam, Knight and Dia and get some rest. I knew I couldn’t sleep if I didn’t know where my friend was. Furthermore, I didn’t understand how we’d been able to locate the majority of Trey and Fagan’s soldiers while both of them remained unaccounted for.
Yes, our attack on Tipshaw was successful, but it had also taken the heaviest toll of our soldiers. It was, after all, the largest of the Netherworld Guard’s base camps. Even though we’d suffered our largest losses at Tipshaw, the dead soldiers on my father’s side still exceeded ours. Really, all of our attacks had been successful. Even at Squander Valley. Despite the Netherworld Guard being prepared at Squander Valley, our soldiers were quick to realize they had the upper hand by virtue of their sheer numbers. So they continued to fight, even after many others retreated. In the end, they were victorious.
Christina had rounded up the remaining soldiers who fled Squander Valley. Then they basically made the same decision we had: that nobody was going down without a fight. Refusing to surrender or hide out in the forest, Christina and her soldiers marched on and attacked the base of Granttree. They took control of it in less than one hour, which was right about the same time Knight prevailed at Willoughby. That reminded me of something.
“Knight, “I asked, getting his attention without hesitation. The only good thing about being injured was how much more responsive Knight was, much more so than usual. “How come it didn’t faze you when my father’s men apprehended you and he insisted you call your men off?” I asked.
He smiled, self-assuredly, as if he couldn’t wait to answer my question. “Because I knew Melchior was bluffing. He had fifteen soldiers here at most; we had forty. End of story.”
“But how did you know he only had fifteen?” I continued.
“Bram told me.”
“What do you mean ‘Bram told you’?” I asked, frowning. “I was there the whole time and I don’t recall Bram saying one word to you about how many soldiers my father had.” So what if I sounded a little more irritable than normal? I mean, I had just died before miraculously returning to life. Who said that would be easy?
Knight smiled more widely and gave me a smug expression, hinting that there was something he knew that I didn’t. And more, he valued any information he was privy to that I wasn’t. “Bram told me in a manner of speaking,” he started. “When in the Netherworld, Lokis and their vampire brethren have an interesting relationship.”
“Here we go,” I muttered, shaking my head, because I’d already guessed the answer was probably “it’s just another Loki skill.” But when he didn’t tell me what exactly, his relationship with Bram was, I had to prod. “So?”
“In the Netherworld, Lokis and vampires share the same telepathic wavelength. If Bram wanted me to know something, all he had to do was think it.”
“Really?” I asked, sounding annoyed. It was just unfair that Lokis possessed cool abilities in the Netherworld, while fairies had to deal with reckless wings and sexual crack.
“Really,” Knight responded with a boyish grin.
I sighed. “And what did Bram tell you?”
Knight shrugged. “Pretty much the truth. Your father had no security at Willoughby, and as long as I didn’t end up in shackles, I could easily lead our rebellion. So that’s what I did.”
I remembered Knight asking my father not to allow his men to see him handcuffed. I also remembered the hop in his step and how he wasn’t the least bit concerned about spending the remainder of his days in my father’s dungeon. My father must have been clueless as to how many forces we’d brought with us because if he’d known how vastly overpowered he was, he’d never have agreed to anything Knight requested.
I nodded and my thoughts turned to Bram and the last time I’d seen him, when he believed I was dead. “Any word from Bram?” I asked, facing Knight, a knot of worry tightening my stomach.
He shook his head. “Nothing. I imagine he’ll show up sooner or later though.”
I just nodded and hoped he was right. I had to see Bram again, if only to thank him for everything he did for me, for us. But mostly, I didn’t want him to think I was dead. I wanted him to know that I’d survived. After witnessing the pain in his eyes when he’d believed me dead, I wanted to correct him. I had to let him know he didn’t have to grieve on my account. I couldn’t help wondering if I’d ever get the chance.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” I heard a woman’s voice coming down the hall and recognized Rachel when she appeared in the doorway, surrounded by our soldiers. Her hair was a mess, blood covered half of her face and dirt colored her entire body. She looked like she’d been crawling through a muddy sewer.
Knight glanced up and immediately smiled with relief. He stood and hurried toward her, gripping her shoulders as he inspected her. “MJ, are you …?” he started.
“I’m okay,” she said again, her voice softer this time. She smiled up at Knight, matching his expression of relief. Then she shook her head, implying she’d had one hell of a trip.
“Everything is okay now,” Knight said as he opened his arms and she fell into them, wrapping her arms around his waist. They hugged for a few seconds before she looked up at him curiously.
“Is everyone accounted for?” she asked.
Knight shook his head and exhaled a pent-up breath of frustration and concern as he stepped away from her. He looked at his radio, as if hoping Fagan or Trey might call at any moment. “Everyone except for Fagan and Trey. We’ve recovered most of their squadron, but have yet to locate either of them.”
Rachel just nodded and gulped, saying nothing. “I hope you find them soon,” she said finally.
Knight sighed. “Me too.”
“Was Tipshaw a success?” Rachel asked, her eyes lighting up with hope.
Knight’s smile was broad and beautiful. For the first time since everything had gone down, I realized just how much weight was now off his shoulders. He’d waited for this moment for so long, building The Resistance with Christina and taking their time to ensure everything was just so. And now that he’d seen his dreams to fruition, his pride and overarching happiness was beyond obvious. What was more, I was incredibly proud of him—of all that made him him.
“Everything was a success,” he said softly.
Rachel studied him for a second or two, astonishment and awe visible in her features. “You mean we won?” she asked in a mere whisper. “We defeated O’Neil?”
Knight smiled and I watched Rachel’s shoulders shake as she lost control of herself and started to cry. Knight wrapped his arms around her and held her, patting her on the back while she tried to regain her composure. He eyed me too, I figured to double check that it was okay for him to comfort her. I smiled back because I was more than just okay with it. The bonds between Knight and me had grown too strong for the threat of jealousy to snap them. What pleased me even more, however, was that Knight could be there for Rachel, who cle
arly needed him.
“Rachel?” Hearing a voice, I looked up to find a striking man standing in the doorway. His eyes bore the expression of someone who’d been incredibly worried. But now, his worry began to vanish as he laid eyes on the woman he, no doubt, loved. He was very tall, maybe six-four, with brown hair and blue eyes. I sensed a kind of sweetness in his disposition. Since we were in the Netherworld, I couldn’t determine exactly what type of creature he was. If I had to guess, though, I thought maybe he was an elf—he just had a sort of regality about him.
“Mike,” Rachel said as she released Knight and caught the man’s gaze for a few seconds. Tears began to build in her eyes again as she ran across the room, before throwing herself into Mike’s arms. She continued to cry as he held her tightly. Glancing back at Knight, I found him looking at me. As soon as we made eye contact, he smiled and I could see his love for me gleaming in his eyes.
Neither of us said anything. I just watched him return to the desk where he picked up his radio again and tried to reach Fagan. As with the first zillion attempts, this one was also in vain.
Looking outside, I watched two of our soldiers carrying a cot with a covered body into the guesthouse. Moments later, the soldiers walked outside again, before disappearing through a portal. They were, no doubt, collecting more of the wounded and dead. Exhaling a sigh of despondency, I tried to discourage myself from looking in the direction of the guesthouse again. Observing all the death and destruction of war only depressed me.
“Dulcie,” I heard Knight’s voice and looked up at him expectantly. His expression was unreadable, but his prior elation was now nowhere to be seen. I brought my attention from Knight’s face to the soldier who stood beside him. It seemed like the young man was playing the part of messenger because Knight nodded to him in thanks as the man turned around and left the room. My attention fell on Erica and Sam, who were still busily hovering over the list of soldiers’ names. They were in the midst of deep conversation.
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