Three Days of Dominance

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Three Days of Dominance Page 7

by Cari Silverwood


  “Well,” she muttered, shivering, “nice to know that. A bit late though.”

  Hoping for an e-mail from her sister, Amy, she checked the inbox. Nothing except the usual “buy now” offers from miscellaneous stores. For the hundredth time, she scanned the other unread e-mails, somehow imagining she’d see Jacob’s name there. And sadness settled heavily in her flesh when she found nothing.

  Now Jacob would have talked this over with her—given her another perspective on the whole thing. And probably, she grinned, imagining his brusque tone, he’d have told her to “go for it,” being the gung-ho special forces type. Then he’d have shadowed her down to the lake as backup. Her grin faded.

  Their parents were dead. Jacob, was—she had to face it—dead also, even if the army wasn’t ready to finalize it. Family really meant only her and Amy, even if Amy had married. Should have meant. Whatever had happened to the blood-is-thicker-than-water crap? Spain might be half the world away, but surely the keyboard wasn’t that much of a stretch? She twisted her wristwatch a few times, toying with the notion of sending a message to Amy. If she got no reply, it would only make her feel worse.

  On impulse, she typed out a quick, Hi, how you going, Amy? I miss you. So does Killer. Then she ran out of steam and sent it off with a desultory tap of the key.

  She ran finger and thumb down her nose, sniffed back a tear, and rested her chin on her hand. Damn. Sometimes it seemed like she lived in a bubble separate from the rest of the world, and all that kept her from floating away was the police work. And now she had this—Heketoro. And that surely wasn’t good for her grip on reality.

  She pottered about, finding excuses not to walk out the door. Coffee and a day-old croissant and cheese made a quick late lunch. The leftover cheese bits went to Killer. She could never resist those sad eyes of his. Upon checking her phone, she found three text messages that Jacqui, Sarah, and Kirsty were off on a hiking trip for the weekend, as of several hours ago. The messages said they’d even knocked on her door. She frowned. How could she, Killer, and Heketoro have missed hearing all that?

  The phone’s battery died as she poked the keys. “Damn!”

  Plugged into the charger, the phone made a bleep and stopped recharging. She played with the phone, but it wouldn’t restart. She’d get another battery while she was out. This one should have been right for ages. Maybe she could get a refund if she found the receipt? Could she claim if the faeries had sucked it dry? Though she smirked at that idea, unease coiled in her stomach.

  On the floor near the front door was a piece of paper. Killer sniffed and sneezed over it before she could pick it up.

  “Hey!” She tut-tutted and nudged him aside with her foot, then picked up the slightly spotted paper. It was a scribbled message bearing out what the texts had said. Sarah’s handwriting, from the looks of it.

  She grinned. So they had been here. Last night had been rather exhausting.

  Three o’clock and she was as jittery as a mouse with an appointment to see a cat.

  Only problem was, when she turned around from washing the dishes, Killer was sitting there, on his haunches, with his lead in his mouth and his tail swishing madly across the floor. Was the dog in league with Heketoro?

  “Aw.” She squatted, and he came over and dropped the lead at her feet. “Walkies?” The tail swished even faster. She wasn’t going to escape. Killer knew the timetable. Saturdays he got a walk around the lake. Being only a fifteen-minute drive away, it was one of her favorite places, and her old four-wheel drive could take a bit of water if the dog got wet. It seemed her appointment was now. She imagined herself doing a last-minute call for a SWAT team to come help her, though how likely was it they’d drop everything to stake out her rendezvous with a faerie, for God’s sake? Wasn’t happening. It was her, or nobody.

  She looked at Killer. “You’re my backup today, boy. Think you’re up to it?”

  He wagged his tail even more vigorously and gave a happy ruff.

  “Crikey. We can’t fail then, can we?”

  * * *

  When she stepped from her front door, she was struck by how much brighter the world seemed to be, as if she’d emerged from a cocoon, and while she was gone, somebody had been busy outlining the trees, leaves, birds, everything, then painting them in the best colors possible. Even the air smelled…fresher.

  Her street was a cul-de-sac, traffic almost nonexistent. Killer took off—hurtling from the porch, across the lawn and through the hole in the fence to David and Trina’s yard.

  She discovered him on the front lawn with Jugsy. They chased each other around and over the top of David. He lay on his back on the lawn, covering his face to avoid the flurry of licking one or the other of the dogs decided to attack him with in between tearing around.

  “Killer! Oh, so sorry, David.” She grabbed Killer’s lead and went to help David up, only to find herself struck as if with electricity when she brushed his hand. She gasped. The egg. And she was suddenly aware of warmth surging from where it rested. David was a man, though she’d never done more than idly wonder about him; he was married after all. But now—She stepped back, trying not to let him see the way she was shaking, and let him rise by himself.

  “Are you all right, Danii?”

  “Yes.” Reddening, she wiped the back of her hand across the beads of sweat that had sprung up on her brow. “It’s just a cold I’m catching. Uh, did Killer knock you over?”

  She tried to look him in the eye. What in the world was this thing doing to her? Nice, but if this happened every time she touched a man’s skin, it could be interesting, to say the least.

  Of average height, with short brown hair and an attractive brightness to his eyes—David was a man whose main talent was his personality and his willingness to help others, something she could attest to, since he’d looked after Killer several times when she was called away by work.

  “Him? Your puny hound?” He gave Killer a derisive glance. “No. Jugsy tripped me when he got excited.”

  “Hi, Danii!” called Trina. She stood in their opened front door, her bob of blonde hair shining and perfectly set like it always seemed to be.

  Their house was almost identical to hers, though with a fresh coat of light gray paint and a neat garden overflowing with flowers and plant thingies that Trina even knew the Latin names for.

  Two empty mugs hung from Trina’s hand. “Like some coffee? Has David told you about the barbecue tonight? Come over and join in if you like. BYO drinks, but we’ve got everything else.”

  “Sure. I’ll be there if I can. Uh, I’d better take Killer for his walk before he drags me away.”

  She wondered what they’d say, and think, if she told them she was off to meet a faerie, especially one who liked tying her up with little bits of grass… Likely she’d end up in a straitjacket. She didn’t know where up or down was anymore. She half hoped, half feared she’d meet him again. She wanted to so much…and she didn’t. Talk about messed-up.

  Chapter Six

  She pulled up in the car park at the lake, gravel crackling beneath the tires, with the nose of the vehicle facing the lake, then sat there watching through the windshield. Killer wriggled his way into the passenger seat to sit with her, panting but patient.

  “Soon,” she muttered to him, patting his head and soft ears.

  Unsure of what she wanted or expected to see, she lowered her forehead to the steering wheel and wrapped her fingers around it. This need to see Heketoro again was driving her nuts. She had to question her own sanity. After all, she still didn’t know enough about this “rite” he expected her to help him complete—the risks, the results if he succeeded. She knew what he’d told her—afterward he intended to return to wherever he’d come from. Back to what…faerie land? She’d be left here like some sort of used doormat, presumably. But what else was there he’d not told her?

  Maybe she should have just gone on one of those talk shows and told the whole world. It wasn’t her idea of the right thing
to do, but then neither was this. She could see the headlines tomorrow—policewoman murdered at lake. Or more likely—dumb policewoman murdered at lake.

  And yet, it would all be worth it if she got to kiss him one more time.

  “Come on, Killer.” She grabbed the butterfly hat from the seat, yanked open the door and stepped from the car. Killer scrambled out to prance beside her, bouncing a foot in the air at times, happy she’d made a move. Marie’s car was locked, but she tucked the hat under the wiper blade. Annabel, her six-year-old, would be in love with that hat and missing it for sure.

  The dirt track from the car park wound through a dense growth of young trees. Twenty, thirty yards in, with both the car park and the lake screened by forest, her skin prickled. Something bad was going down. She clenched her fist around Killer’s lead. The breeze dropped to nothing, birds taking off in a burst of screeching and fluttering. Looking up, she saw cloudless blue sky.

  “Greetings.” The word seemed to come from her left. Nothing there except leaves. A female voice, Danii decided, with a hiss to it as if the owner had bred with a snake.

  “Where are you?” She scanned the trees again.

  “Here. Aren’t you pretty? Now I know why Heketoro likes you.”

  Heketoro? Eyes wide, Danii searched for some sign. There! The leaves blurred in gray-green, like a TV fizzing to life on the wrong channel.

  “Heketoro? How do you know him?”

  The prickling of her skin hadn’t let up. This woman, if that’s what she was, registered as dangerous. Unless I’m imagining this? With the recent visions messing with her head, she was beginning to doubt everything she saw.

  “I’m his half sister, Aroha.” The esses whispered through the undergrowth like a twisting python. “You, my dear, are supposed to be Heketoro’s conquest, his partner, his lover. Yet I see doubt and fear in you. Don’t you know how much the poor man adores you?” Aroha giggled, the sound echoing in Danii’s ears. “I’ve watched him watch you, for many years. Quite disturbing. Pretty one, do you deserve his attention? Why aren’t you with him? Why? Go to him!”

  He’s watched me for years? He adores me? How much of this is true?

  In a circle around her, the leaves whipped into a whistling storm, flying loose and scampering round and round. Not imaginary. This was happening. What does this cantankerous faerie think she’s up to, ordering me around? It seemed Heketoro’s sister had serious mental issues.

  “Why?” Danii yelled, a hand before her face to ward away the leaves. One leaf whipped across her neck, cutting her. The sting cooled in the wind. “Because I’m me! Not whoever you think I am! I make my own decisions!” Oh my God—she was shouting at bushes. Absurd, and yet fear gripped her. This was the unknown. How could she resist what couldn’t be seen?

  “How many times must he save you before you give us what we need? Don’t you know of the curse, that we die in two days? Help us!”

  Two days? Surely not? Heketoro had said nothing of this. Staggering, she finally remembered Killer and crouched, covering his quivering body with her own. Branches snapped above her and she heard the clack as they spun against one another. Scared, she wanted to burrow into the earth itself.

  Her clothes fluttered upward, and then suction dragged at her very skin. Beside her hand, between her fingers, earth streamed up. Something snatched her whirling into the sky. Blinded, she spun helter-skelter like a whirling top. Killer came with her, his fur dragging across her knuckles. She grabbed him, held him close.

  Water—she plunged into cold water, bubbles churning around as she still twirled. In a last effort, she shoved Killer upward, toward where she thought the surface might be.

  “Enough!” someone commanded, the sound bubbling to her ears. Heketoro, she knew his voice. Too late, she thought. Too late. A stream of water spiraled down her throat, choking her.

  “Enough!” The word seemed to spawn inside her head.

  The water stilled. Effervescence trailed past her submerged eyes. Somewhere up there was air. Her arms flailed and the echoes gurgled like music. She drifted deeper, past streamers of weeds. Flecks of dirt went whirling by. Silence. She closed her eyes. Everywhere was cold and dark and peaceful…

  With a last desperate surge of strength, Heketoro reached down and plucked Danii from the water. Aroha had picked the worst and deepest spot to throw her into. Even as he swam to the bank, he concentrated on expelling the water from Danii’s lungs. Every creature in this lake, every molecule of water responded to him and would obey him if he insisted, if he really exerted power. Humans died so easily from drowning. By the time he took the first step onto the bank, her lungs were free of water and the sundry bits of weed she’d breathed in with it. On the outside they were both still soaked, but he was pleased. She would survive.

  Her little dog looked happy too. It looked up at him as it pranced alongside. Being drenched and submerged had barely dented the beast’s jaunty approach to life.

  “You’re lucky your owner values you so much.”

  Killer barked agreement and scrabbled at his legs.

  He’d seen how she’d pushed the dog to the surface despite the risk to herself. He shook his head. Blatant stupidity, but admirable in a way. For a human, or a faerie-human hybrid, she was courageous.

  He studied the unconscious woman cradled in his arms and found a strange tenderness stirring within. Her long copper red hair clung wetly, spreading out like a spray of seaweed to his shoulder and chest with a last few strands running across her neck and breasts. Beautiful as always, and so vulnerable it made his heart ache. Her head lolled, and she mumbled some incoherent words. Her long eyelashes fluttered.

  Aroha did this. Anger bubbled up. If she’d dared to manifest here, he would have struck her down in an instant—half sister or not, it made no difference. He clamped down on the anger. Fury would serve no one. Aroha had clearly crossed the line into insanity.

  In a moment of stunning and awful clarity, he knew he must abandon his plans. Aroha’s unpredictable attack made this whole last-minute attempt far too dangerous. And to think he’d done this more for Aroha’s sake than his own. His own death he’d long ago come to terms with. For Danii to also suffer—He grimaced. No. It was too much to ask of her.

  The leafy fingers of the weeping willows trailed across his head and back as he carried her through the tree barrier and into his private glade. Nothing could disturb them here, not even Aroha.

  Killer came through with him, and after furiously shaking off most of the water in his coat, he sat on his haunches. His little brown eyes never left off watching Danii.

  “Your loyalty to your mistress is commendable.”

  Killer wagged his tail the smallest amount, and his doggy eyebrows made something like a frown.

  “Perhaps, if I put her down, you will be happier?” Heketoro went to one knee and gently laid Danii on the soft carpet of pine needles. He wiped away a trickle of water at the corner of her lips, felt the softness of her skin.

  He wondered if you could miss someone when you had passed on into the realm of death.

  “Danii. Danii.”

  Her eyes flickered open. Where am I?

  “Danii?” Heketoro looked down at her. She’d never seen anyone look at her with such concern. As if she was dying or something. Well, maybe her mother that time she almost drowned.

  “Christ!” She sat up suddenly. A hacking moist cough erupted from her lungs. She hunched over, trying to remember how to breathe.

  “Take some deep breaths. Your lungs are clear. One of my few remaining powers—control over this lake’s water if I try really hard. The damn stuff wouldn’t have dared stay inside you any longer.”

  She shook all over. Cold, so very cold. Her bones had turned to ice. “K-killer, is he okay?”

  “Sure.” Heketoro whistled, and the next moment a soft tongue slurped at her knee.

  “Here. Let me get you warm.”

  If she’d ever been wary of snuggling up to this man, now was not
the time to argue. She let him wrap his arms around her and pull her into his lap. He pushed her hair to one side at the back of her neck and kissed the top of her head.

  “You’re safe now.”

  Slowly she took in her surroundings as the shivering subsided. She seemed to be on the banks of the lake, in a clearing inside a copse of weeping willows. The foliage hid them, the branches dangling over the lake’s edge like a living curtain, in some places dipping long leaves in the water. Nothing was visible beyond, no sounds of children playing or dogs barking penetrated, and she wondered if this little hideaway existed in the way normal places did.

  “Nothing will get in here,” he told her. “I swathed this place in glamour a long time ago as my refuge. A human who looks this way will notice nothing unusual.”

  Magic then? What if I go over and poke that leafy curtain? Is the lake really out there? Not that I feel like stirring right this minute. Here is too comfy. What happened back there? She played it through in her mind. The whipping of the snapped wood, the minitornado, the strange voice goading her, warning—Aroha, his sister. She’d been almost drowned by the woman.

  “Whoever attacked me, she said she was Aroha, your half sister?” Her voice shook as much as her body. What the hell? She was a police officer. This sort of thing, this should be something she could take in her stride….but, no, a good excuse here…this was totally beyond the understanding of almost anyone she could think of.

  “Yes, I know it was Aroha.” Again he kissed the top of her head, then smoothed the tangle of her hair. “I’m sorry.”

  “That crazy lady was your half sister? Remind me not to get on the wrong side of your family.” The warmth from his body had settled her. Despite recalling water going down her throat, she could breathe normally. What he’d done had worked on her perfectly. He’d asked her to come so he could show her proof of magic. Proof of magic? Hah! She’d been swamped by a tidal wave of the stuff.

  She struggled and sat up, turned to face him. He looked so human. Except every time she saw him, he’d altered, like now. The bone structure, the muscles—both were more emphasized, broader, deeper, like a sculpture taking shape beneath the chisel of its maker. The tattoo on his face had crawled farther down and added a few neat spirals.

 

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