by Jasmine Walt
“Dinnae touch it,” Maddock said, smacking my hand away. “Cerberus wounds are resistant to magic, or I would have healed it already. This is a special salve that will help keep the wound closed until it heals on its own.”
“Oh. Well, thanks.” I glanced down at my torn sleeve, then at the rest of me. Blood was flecked on the front of my shirt and my blue jeans as well. Just great.
“You said this thing was immortal?” I asked, bringing the conversation back on track again.
“Aye. And unlike common fae, he will come back within a matter of days.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” I muttered. I expected Maddock to step away, or grab me and teleport out, so my eyes widened when instead he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close.
“I’m glad yer safe,” he said quietly, resting his chin atop my head. My heart hammered hard against my chest, against Maddock’s hard abdomen, as he pressed a kiss into my hair.
And then he teleported us out.
Chapter 22
Hours later, I sat on my bed, knees drawn up against my chest. I watched the sun set over the harbor, my mind still on Maddock, rather than the artifacts still nestled safely in their iron chest. He’d brought me back to my apartment and asked me to wait here while he finalized a few things in preparation for whatever he had to do to set up the artifacts to protect his border.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d pulled me tight against him and kissed my hair. How he’d told me he was glad I was safe. It seemed silly to focus on such a small thing; after all, his tongue had recently been in my mouth, and in a past life, we’d even slept together. But all those interactions back then had been a means to an end. I’d slept with him so I could take his power, and all the times he had kissed me were for non-romantic reasons, like avoiding guards or showing me a memory. I couldn’t reconcile all that with the way he’d pulled me into his arms and held me as if I were actually precious to him.
Could it be that Maddock actually did have feelings for me? And what about my feelings for him? I pressed my hand against my chest, which seemed to be filled with all kinds of swirling emotions. I told myself over and over to keep him at arm’s length, to not grow more attached. I had failed at every turn. And now, this.
“Well, you look awfully unhappy for someone who just came back from a quest triumphant,” a female voice said dryly.
I snapped my head up to see the Morrigan standing before me, back in her old crone guise once more. Heart pounding, I shot to my feet. “How is it that you’re able to get in like this!” I demanded. “My place is warded. You shouldn’t be able to.”
The old fae let out a raspy chuckle. “Your protections don’t work on me because you bound yourself to me the moment you acknowledged your debt. That’s why I can find you even though you’ve shaded yourself, and why I can get past the wards Lord Tremaine set around your place.” Her thin lip curled a little as she said Maddock’s name. “Now hand over the artifacts, girl. I don’t have all day.”
My body began to move toward my closet against its own accord, as if the magic binding us together was propelling me in that direction. Fisting my hands at my sides, I forced myself to stop and turned back to the Morrigan.
“I won’t give them to you,” I ground out between clenched teeth.
Her black eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” It took everything in me to defy her—I was clearly being compelled to deliver. Desperate, I reached for the power at the center of myself. The pull instantly lessened the moment I touched it, and I relaxed a little. “I’m not handing the artifacts over to you.”
“You don’t have a choice.” The Morrigan’s eyes turned completely black, and the room suddenly filled with her presence. I drew in a shallow breath as I realized she’d somehow been condensing herself—her presence was immense, making it hard to breathe, and I instinctually wanted to cower beneath the weight of her energy. “You owe me a favor, and I named it. You must hand them over.”
“Name a different favor,” I said, gripping the headboard of my bed in an effort to stay upright. I wasn’t giving in, not so easily. I was the daughter of the former Unseelie King, for fuck’s sake. Surely I was stronger than this. “Four priceless artifacts seem a bit steep in comparison to the favor you did for me.”
“That is irrelevant.” The Morrigan snarled, her black, feathered cloak lifting around her body as the power in the air stirred, revealing the leather battle armor she wore beneath. The wrinkles in her face smoothed away, the grey in her hair darkening to glossy black, and once more she was the beautiful warrior goddess. “If you are not willing to give me the artifacts, then I will simply take them.” She grabbed me by the throat and lifted me high into the air. “Where are they!”
I clawed at the hand wrapped around my throat and kicked out, trying to get free. But the Morrigan’s grip was too strong, and my toes slid ineffectually against the armor covering her abdomen.
“C…closet…” I gasped.
“Excellent.” She tossed me to the bed, then strode toward the closet, cloak trailing behind her. She threw opened the door, then shrieked, recoiling.
“Iron!” she howled, whirling to face me. “You put them in iron!”
“Fuck yes I did,” I croaked, struggling to my feet. I massaged my aching throat, which was probably bruising already. “I’m not an idiot, you know.”
“Clearly you are,” the Morrigan said, stalking back toward me. The expression on her face was thunderous, and I glanced toward my top drawer, where my guns sat. Did I have time to make a break for them? Surely those iron bullets would work on her.
But before the Morrigan could reach me, or I could dive for the guns, Maddock popped back into the room. Relief crashed through me as he materialized right in front of me, providing a real flesh and bone shield against the murderous unseelie.
“Detective,” he began. Then he froze, presumably sensing the Morrigan behind him.
“You!” he whirled about, his tone venomous. “What are ye doing here?”
“I have come to collect the artifacts that Brooke has so generously agreed to gather for me,” the Morrigan said pleasantly, her full lips curving into an evil smile.
Maddock flung out his hands and blasted her back with a burst of green magic. “She has been collecting them for me,” he snarled as the Morrigan went flying through my bedroom door. “Ye have no claim over them, or her!”
“Oh, but I do!” the Morrigan shouted, her cloak snapping out into a pair of raven wings. They beat twice, catching her before she crashed to the ground, and she landed on her feet. Raising her hand, she conjured a claymore out of thin air. “Your little detective owes me a favor, and I will see that she delivers!”
Letting out a war cry, she charged Maddock, who conjured a sword of his own. As the two clashed in the middle of my living room, I dove for the chest. I couldn’t use my iron bullets, because they might actually hit Maddock.
As steel clashed against steel, I hurriedly threw open the chest and glanced over the artifacts. Which one would be the best?
“How kind of you to open the chest.” My blood froze as the Morrigan’s voice came from behind me. She must have teleported away from Maddock and back to me, realizing what I was doing. “Now get out of the way.”
“Brooke!” Maddock shouted, his voice thick with fear, and I knew he was rushing in to save me. But he wouldn’t be on time. The Morrigan was too close.
Without thinking, I grabbed the statue of the woman, then spun about and held it up. Strange words sprang to my lips, and I shouted them instinctively as the Morrigan brought her sword down, clearly intending to cleave me in two. A bright light burst from the statue, and the Morrigan shrieked, falling back.
“Stay away!” I cried, brandishing the statue as I approached.
The thing blazed like heavenly fire, and the Morrigan crawled backward, the expression on her beautiful face a mixture of revulsion and terror. The statue recognized her as my enemy and wouldn’t al
low her to approach. Relief and awe swept through me all at once—I’d figured out how to use them. Somehow, the right words had come to me.
“You will pay for this!” she cried, her black eyes darting between both me and Maddock. “You both will!”
And then she disappeared, leaving only a couple of raven feathers floating to the ground in her wake.
“Yes! We did it!” I fist pumped the air with my statue, then turned to Maddock, feeling like I was on top of the world. But the elation in my chest faltered at the thunderous expression on his face.
“Congratulations,” he said, his green eyes glittering with fury. “Did you always know how to use the artifacts? Were you planning on doing that from the very beginning, so you could keep them for yourself?”
“Of course not.” I recoiled at the accusation in his voice. “I didn’t know how to use the artifacts. I had no idea what I was doing when I used this just now.” I looked down at the statue in my hand, which had turned back to normal. “It just sort of came to me.”
“I suppose I can believe that,” Maddock said tightly. “What I cannae believe is that ye had a pact with the Morrigan this entire time, and ye didna tell me aboot it.” His jaw clenched so tightly that it popped.
“I didn’t have a choice,” I snapped, incensed now. How the hell was I the bad guy? “The Morrigan threatened to kill my Uncle Oscar if I didn’t comply.”
“Then ye should have told me aboot it, ye daft wench!” Maddock thundered, his eyes blazing.
He stalked toward me, and fear bloomed in my chest at the murderous look in his eyes. The statue in my hand blazed again, knocking Maddock onto his ass, and it would have been comical if the situation wasn’t so dire.
“I fecking knew it!” he spat, getting to his feet. His expression was wild now, his black hair flying about his face. There was a cut on his cheek from his battle with the Morrigan, and his left sleeve was ripped as well, blood oozing down his forearm. “I knew ye were just going ta double-cross me in the end, just like ye did the last time!”
“How dare you!” Furious, I chucked the statue at him, completely done with it. The light went out, and Maddock caught it, surprise widening his eyes. “I never wanted these stupid fucking things, and I never wanted to be caught up in your crazy battle with the unseelie!” Dropping in front of the chest, I took the rest of the artifacts and threw them at him as well. “Just take them and be gone! I never want to see your face again.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” Maddock growled, getting to his feet. His anger was subdued somewhat, but fury still glittered in his eyes, drawing the bones of his handsome face taut.
My chest ached suddenly, and I wanted to take back the words. He had every right to be angry. But it was too late. The feelings of anger and mistrust between us could not be healed. We were through.
“Goodbye, Detective,” he said, and then he teleported out and disappeared from my life.
Chapter 23
Pounding at my front door had me reluctantly cracking my swollen eyelids open. The digital readout on the clock by my bedside told me it was three in the afternoon, and I groaned.
Who could possibly need to talk to me? I’d called in sick today on account of being drunk off my ass and running on practically no sleep. After Maddock had left, there was no solace to be found. Uncle Oscar’s phone had gone straight to voicemail, and there was no one else I could talk to. None of my buddies back at my precinct in Chicago would be able to help or understand. And Baxter was definitely out of the question, especially since we were on the outs.
In the end, I turned to alcohol and ice cream and b-movies. Cinnamon whiskey went pretty good with vanilla bean ice cream, and the burn helped me forget about the look of betrayal in Maddock’s eyes when he’d realized what I’d done. Even so, I hadn’t managed to fall asleep until noon, and now that I had, I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to wake up.
The knocking persisted, and I pulled a pillow over my head, hoping to block out the afternoon light and the noise. But it didn’t do any good.
“Brooke Chandler, this is Detective Brasher and Detective Yan,” Jake’s voice called through the door, ringing with authority. “We have a warrant to search your premises. This is your last warning to open up voluntarily!”
Fear drove the sleep and self-pity from me, and I scrambled out of my bed. My hair was probably a disaster, and I was sure I looked like hell in my rumpled pajamas, but there was no time to freshen up. Heart pounding, I stumbled to the front door, then wrenched it open.
“A warrant?” I demanded, my heart sinking as I took in the two detectives standing there, along with a uniformed officer. Their expressions were sober, not a hint of friendliness in their dark gazes. “What the hell for?”
Jake handed me the piece of paper. “We have authorization to enter and search your premises.” He pushed past me, and the other two men followed suit. “I’ll take the kitchen,” he told them. “You take the living room, and you the bedroom.”
As the three men split up, I quickly scanned the warrant—they were here to search for any evidence relating to Captain Randall’s disappearance or Father James’s death. What the fuck? I could see them swinging the second one on account of Baxter, but the first? What proof did they have that I was connected to Randall’s disappearance?
My mind whirling, I rushed into my bedroom and grabbed Detective Yan by the arm, who was searching through my bedroom drawers. “Bobby, what is this all about?” I pleaded. “Why is this happening?”
Bobby pulled his arm from my grip, giving me a brief, sympathetic look. “A witness placed Captain Randall at your apartment shortly before he disappeared,” he said, closing the drawer he was working on before opening another. God, not my underwear drawer. I might die from embarrassment if I didn’t die from anxiety first.
“What witness?” I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest. Who else had seen him but those two-faced assholes from the Daire Witch Coven?
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Bobby, please,” I pleaded, desperation adding an edge to my voice. God, but was there someone else watching me?
Bobby closed the last drawer with a sigh. “Her name’s Thelia Sorensen.” His eyes narrowed as he turned to look at me. “Looks like you recognize the name.”
“She’s someone I questioned a week ago regarding Tom’s disappearance,” I said, doing my best to keep the fury out of my voice. So the Daire Coven was trying to force my hand. I just bet that they’d come crawling out of the woodwork soon, offering to clean up this mess for me if I joined up with them. The bitches.
“Well, I’m sure you can give us all the details,” he said, clearly not buying the explanation. He strode over to my laundry basket, then plucked up the bloody, torn sweater that was sitting on top. “What’s this all about?” Suspicion clouded his gaze as he turned to me, and his eyes narrowed again as he looked me up and down. “And what’s with the bruises on your neck, and the bandage on your arm?”
Fuck. I touched my neck, wondering how the hell I was going to explain that. “I got attacked by a dog,” I said, pulling back the bandage to reveal the cut. “He clawed me up pretty good the other day. And a mugger attacked me when I was out for my run last night.”
Bobby scoffed. “That doesn’t look like any dog scratch I’ve ever seen before.”
Of course he’d never seen a scratch from a Cerberus before, but come on—it wasn’t as if it looked like defense wounds inflicted by another human. “Look at the shirt,” I tried. “There’s a rip in the back from the dog trying to scratch me there, too.”
He bagged the bloody shirt without even looking at it. “Lying isn’t going to help you out of this, Chandler.”
“No, it’s not,” Jake said from behind me, his voice hard.
I turned to see him holding a small, leather book with a golden cross on it—a missal. My chest tightened as I noticed flecks of blood on the white leather.
“Found this in the false bottom of one of your kitchen dr
awers. And just look at this?” Jake opened it up, then pointed to the name written on the inside. “It belongs to Father James Baxter. How did you come to have it?”
“He gave it to me,” I said, and the lie sounded lame even to my own ears. I’d said the same thing to Baxter about the rosary.
“Uh-huh.” Jake looked skeptical as he handed the book off to the other officer and told him to bag it. “I dunno who you think you’re trying to fool, Chandler, but we’re going to find out the truth real quick. We’re taking you to the station for questioning, and don’t even think about refusing. I’m not afraid to arrest your ass for obstruction of justice.”
I sat in the interview room for three fucking hours in a cold, hard chair, waiting to be interviewed. I suspected that they were waiting to get test results back on the bloody clothes and book before they sat down to question me, but I also knew it was an intimidation tactic. Put a suspect in a cold, uncomfortable room and make them sweat as they sat in their guilt. With no one else to talk to, suspects had no choice but to run around in circles in their minds, psyching themselves out with the possibilities of what could happen to them. By the time the cops actually came in to the interview room, many of them were ready to start blabbering, and before they knew it, they’d given themselves up.
Of course, it wasn’t always that easy. Usually that kind of thing worked with first time offenders. Criminals with a record knew the drill, and they tended to keep their mouths shut longer, or worse, lawyer up.
I wasn’t a criminal, and I didn’t have a lawyer, but this damn sure wasn’t going to work on me. I’d stay calm and be cooperative, but I wasn’t going to admit to anything. I didn’t know whose blood was on the missal, but they weren’t going to find anything on my shirt that didn’t match my story.
At least Jake and Bobby had allowed me to shower and change before they dragged me over here. I didn’t have to sit in this tiny, cold room with the stench of alcohol and sweat for company. I’d even had time to cover the bruises on my neck with make-up. God, I wished I’d thought to do that earlier. But how the hell was I supposed to know that cops would be storming my place, barely twenty-four hours after I’d gotten the damn bruises?