“Can’t tell what I don’t know.”
He lifted his chin and then gave a slight shake of his head in exasperation.
Stepping off the elevator onto the basement brought back all the vivid details from that night I had broken in and chills ran down my spine. I had seen a dead Fae man flayed open and nearly gotten myself ‘persona non grata’ from the Hunt.
“Wait a minute, this is where all the interrogation rooms are—where exactly are you taking me?” I came to a dead stop, arms on my hips.
He stopped to look back at me like I had sprouted an extra head. “To the gym, you wanted to train, right?”
“You sure this isn’t some trick and I’m not unwittingly walking to my own death?”
“If this was a trick, saying ‘yes’ sure would kill the surprise.” He flashed his teeth at me before continuing to a door with another handprint scanner.
I was about ninety percent sure he was joking. The other ten percent was busy calling out ‘dead man walking.’
He opened a thick metal door to reveal a large modern training room and my clenched shoulders relaxed. The light wood floors were reminiscent of a school gymnasium, although the smell was thankfully much more Old Spice than sweaty teenager. One corner of the room was dedicated to free weights and had rubber matting covering the wood. There was an array of equipment—punching bag, speed bag, pullup bars, weight bench with a wall full of weights, treadmill and more. Lochlan walked over to a shelf and grabbed boxing pads and white tape.
“Give me your hand.”
I set down my gym bag and held my hand out which he proceeded to systematically wrap with white fabric tape from wrist to knuckles. Once both hands were fully wrapped and I had warmed up with a five-minute jog, he began our lesson.
He showed me how to hold a fist so that I wouldn’t, hopefully, break my thumb when I punched something. We also went over foot stance, how to guard my face by holding my fists up in front of me, the difference between a jab and a cross, and proper follow-through of my hips when I punched.
Through each lesson I tried to ignore the flutters of awareness that danced across my skin at his nearness. When he stood behind me and his strong hands touched my waist to pivot my hips correctly, it was all I could do to focus on his words. His spicy masculine scent was even stronger after taking a run, and every minute that ticked by made me more achingly aware of how alone we were in the gym.
“Now that you have the basics, let’s practice a few sequences.” He slid round pads on each of his hands and held them up just slightly in front of him at chest height.
I stood knees slightly bent in ready position with my left foot forward, my right foot behind me, and held my hands up to guard my face.
“Give me a jab-jab-cross combo, then repeat. Make sure to exhale on your strikes.”
Slowly at first, I went through the motions. Jab-jab-cross, then repeat—over and over. Along with jabs and crosses, we worked on upper cuts and ducking until I started to feel like one of those inflated floppy balloon men at used car lots. I had never had a workout tire me so thoroughly to the point of exhaustion as boxing had.
When he finally called the session to a close, I collapsed onto my back and stared at the ceiling, wondering if I would be able to move the next day. My hair on top of my head, once an attractive messy bun, now more closely resembled a bird’s nest than a hairstyle. Sweat drenched my shirt and I wasn’t sure any deodorant had survived the training session.
Lochlan, who barely showed signs of having broken a sweat, sat on the weight bench not far from me. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and smirked at me sprawled out on the floor. “Am I going to have to carry you home?”
His words, spoken in a low murmur, stirred to life the butterflies in my stomach. I would have thought even they were too tired to move, but he had proven me wrong. “I’ll manage, thanks.” After a moment of deep breathing, I sat up on the matted floor with my legs crossed. “This is kind of random, but I was wondering about something I read a while back. When I researched about magic and Ireland, there were tons of references to druids—were they real?” I wanted to hear what he knew about the druids, but I wouldn’t say anything to hint at their modern-day existence.
“They were, but they haven’t existed for a long time.”
“What happened to them?”
“They were killed by the Hunt.”
His quick admission took me off guard and I bolted upright with my mouth hanging open in shock. In a whisper I asked, “Were you a part of that?” As I waited for his answer I became aware of just how much I wanted him to deny his involvement.
“No, that was before my time. The Erlking back then was Odin and it was at his command that the women were killed. Guin had commanded the Fae back to Faery and released her handmaidens back to Earth but not long after they were killed by the Hunt. When Guin found out, she was livid and war broke out between the Court and the Hunt. Eventually, Guin killed Odin for his actions, although he claimed from the start that Guin herself had come to him and given her blessing to hunt the humans. They had been her trusted friends and she would not forgive the transgression. That time period was marked by such darkness and bloodshed that once Alberich became the Erlking, both he and Guin have always endeavored to stay on good terms.”
“Guin killed the legendary Norse God, Odin?”
“Legend—he wasn’t really a god. The Hunt spent many years in Scandinavia during his leadership and word got around.”
“She must be really powerful.”
“She is, I would not want to get on her bad side.”
I had to take a minute to process everything he had revealed. Guin had not ordered the death of her handmaidens, instead, she had avenged them. Could I convey that information to the druids and convince them that they were not in danger? They wouldn’t be happy to know I was discussing their past with Lochlan, but it would mean those people could live without the constant fear of being discovered.
I didn’t think I could pry into the subject much further without making him suspicious, so I changed topics. “Has there been any trace of Ronan?”
He quickly rose and stalked across the room, his hand running through his hair harshly. “No. We searched his home but found nothing out of the ordinary. We’ve traced his credit cards and used the most advanced tracking platforms out there but we haven’t had a single hit.”
“That sounds awfully human of you. I figured you all would be using magic and your super Fae senses to track him down.” My sarcasm surfaced as I rose to gather my things near where he stood by the door.
“We use our spidey senses too, no reason not to use all techniques available.”
“The Faerie’s got jokes? I’m shocked!” I poked him in the chest as I spoke. It was a gesture I would have made with one of my close friends, and I blamed my exhaustion for acting in such a familiar manner with him when our relationship had not yet progressed to that level. We had known each other for several weeks, but we rarely joked or teased one another, and we certainly didn’t make casual physical contact.
He pressed forward and backed me into the door frame, my head tilted back to look into his inscrutable face. “Careful with that smart mouth or I’ll have to find a better use for it.”
The towel I was holding dropped from my hands and my breathing became shallow. We had managed to temporarily avoid the dizzying sexual energy between us, but eventually we always came back to it. I could feel the warmth from his chest, like a beacon it called to me, tempted me to move just a little closer.
Rebecca, you’ve had this discussion before, these Fae men are not on the menu and that is not your goal now. Stop thinking with your girl bits!
“I need to get going,” I mumbled as I dropped my gaze to his chest and turned my head to the side.
“Still running scared I see.” With a blank look on his face, he pulled back and crossed his strong arms.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you.” I tried to keep my
cool but I could feel my ears burning.
“No, you don’t. Your actions speak plenty loud for you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re drawn to me, but look at you with your arms crossed over your chest defensively. One little comment and you can’t get out of here fast enough. You can come to me in your dreams and fuck me with no inhibitions, but in person you push me away. You want it, but you’re scared.”
I could feel the blood drain from my face and every hair on my body rise at his words.
He knew I had sex with him in my dreams. What did that even mean? “How did you know?” I whispered.
“I was there—did you not realize that was me?”
My head started to ache and my eyes frantically searched the ground for answers. That would mean the first time I thought I had sex with Lochlan, it had not actually been him, and the second time I thought it wasn’t him, but it really had been.
Oh my God.
I clearly needed to keep my pants on around this man. I wasn’t sure which one of the scenarios was worse. Without meeting his eyes, I grabbed my duffle bag and did exactly what he accused me of doing—I ran.
Not waiting for the elevator, I took the stairs two at a time and rushed from the building, adrenaline reinvigorating my muscles to push past exhaustion. Lochlan had called after me, but by some stroke of luck, he hadn’t pursued me and I was deeply relieved.
Discovering my dream sex had not been entirely in my head was different than my night with Ronan—no one ever had to know about that. Dream sex with Lochlan meant I shared something intimate with him that I hadn’t intended. I could still taste him and remember the feel of my hands tracing his rippling abs. It would have been just as real for him and the whole time we trained he knew. Had he thought I had known? He certainly hadn’t shown any signs that anything had changed. If having sex with me was so inconsequential for him, I thanked my lucky stars I hadn’t done the deed in real life.
But I had to ask myself, if I had been prepared to have sex with him when it turned out to be Ronan, why was I having such a hard time finding out the dream had been essentially real? All I could figure was that it hadn’t been my decision and I was quickly growing disgusted with how few of my own decisions I was able to make lately. Whether it was big decisions like what world I lived on or smaller decisions like what I wanted to wear, they were all being stripped from me one at a time. Not even an intimate decision like who I have sex with was left to my discretion. I was tricked and deceived at every turn, even when it was by my own mind, and I was fed up.
If I couldn’t make the decision about who I had sex with, I wouldn’t have any sex at all. I wasn’t entirely sure how to keep myself from slutting it up in my dreams, but I would do my best. Like The Cat in the Hat’s Green Eggs and Ham, I would not have sex in a bed, I would not have sex in my head, I would not have sex here or there, I would not have sex anywhere.
That may not have been the exact words, but it was close enough. I would be disciplined and keep focused on my goals: to protect myself, stop the war from coming, and to kill Ronan—not necessarily in that order.
5
Back at my apartment I showered away my day, and after eating a hearty dinner, I sat on my bed to do some journaling. In the past I wrote in my journal nightly but it had been some time since I had composed an entry. I was about halfway through writing a lengthy update of my recent circumstances when I heard a noise from downstairs.
I wasn’t in the practice of leaving a TV or radio on so the place was usually quiet. My neighbors had kept to themselves and traffic was minimal on the road out front, which was why the noise downstairs had been so noticeable.
It could have been the brownie, although he had never made a peep before, and I had yet to see him since he helped save me from Ronan. Looking around for a weapon, I kicked myself for having left my purse in the living room downstairs—that’s where my knife was stashed and it did me no good down there. In my tank top and panties, I gingerly crept down the stairs clutching a black patent stiletto in my hands.
The only light on in my apartment had been the small reading lamp next to my bed and I left the other lights off, figuring my night vision was probably better than whoever might be down there. Peeking around the corner of the stairwell entry, I braced myself for an attack but there was nothing there to see. I cautiously stepped over to my purse and pulled out my knife before checking behind the couch and anywhere someone might have been hiding. After I had checked all the nooks and crannies and had called out to my small housemate to no avail, I headed back upstairs. The noise could have easily been a night critter like a raccoon—did they even have raccoons in Ireland? Regardless, I wasn’t going to freak myself out over nothing.
The following morning I prepared to entertain hordes of elementary school students. One of the local school districts was having a field trip day and scores of first, second, and third graders would be joining us at the museum throughout the day.
When I opened my front door to head to work my eyes dropped down to a small object on the entry mat. Not an object, a person. My tiny brownie friend lay on his back, his head had been ripped from his body and was cradled in one of his limp arms.
My bags fell from my hands, tumbling to the ground as I stared in horror at the atrocity before me. My breath left me in shallow puffs as my mind tried to wrap itself around what had been done. There was no possibility this had been an accident—not the mauling by a cat or other nocturnal critter. This tiny docile creature to whom I owed my life had been senselessly murdered and left for me to find.
My vision blurred as tears streaked down my face and bile rose in my throat. Had Ronan known the brownie had helped me? Had the little man lost his life because of me? I closed my eyes and whispered a litany of apologies. I knew it wouldn’t undo what had been done, but I had nothing else to give. He had paid the ultimate price for his good deed, and I would never forget it.
I had no idea how brownies honored their dead or if there were even other brownies around to care for him. Scooping up his limp body and tiny head, I brought him inside and placed him gently inside a tissue box on the kitchen table. I plucked a handful of leaves off the shrubs outside my living room window and covered his body reverently as if he was simply tucked in bed to rest. If he was still there when I got home from work, I would find a special place to bury him.
Taking a calming breath, I stepped back onto the sidewalk and looked up at my two-story row house. I had no doubt whoever had been there that night would have gone inside had they been able. I would have preferred not to have had any visitor at all, but at least now I had confirmation that the wards were working.
Approximately six hundred kids passed through our halls that day. I helped plan the event and had tried to mentally prepare for the onslaught of children, but it had been pointless. There was no preparing for hundreds of six to eight year-olds, you just ride out the storm and hope you make it out alive.
By closing time I had tied more than a dozen pairs of shoes, watched enough kids eat their boogers to make me nauseous for a week, and answered at least sixteen hundred questions. I was beat.
I gathered my purse and work tote, but before I made it out of the office, Fergus came bustling back through the door. “Becca! I was just about to leave when someone came in to tell us that there’s a big dog trapped in the graveyard. Cat’s gone and so is most everyone else, could you be a dear and call animal services to get the bloody thing out of there? We can’t just leave him, he could start digging up graves and we can’t have that.”
“Of course.” I offered with more energy than I felt.
“Thank you so much, I would normally do it myself, but I have plans and I’m already late. Thanks again, see you tomorrow!” He hollered the last part as he tore off down the hallway.
I plopped back down at my desk and pulled up the number for animal services. A recorded message informed me that they were closed for the day.
Great. Just how I wanted to end my day.
Friar’s Bush Graveyard was a beautiful old cemetery next to the museum. It dated back to the early 1800s and was surrounded by a thick wall with an iron gate on the street side for entrance. I had no idea how a dog would have gotten inside, but I agreed that he needed to be removed.
I gathered my things and trudged downstairs and out to the front gate of the graveyard. There was a heavy layer of clouds that drowned out any moonlight and shrouded the tombstones in darkness. The area was spotted with old trees and thick shrubs, making it even more difficult to see, but my rapidly developing Fae vision was enormously helpful and I was able to navigate the landscape with minimal fumbling.
Had I been in heels, traipsing through the moist grass would have been a squishy nightmare. In anticipation of leading the student visitors on tours through the museum I had worn flats that morning and was now doubly glad for my practical decision. I rubbed my bare hands together for warmth and called out for the dog, hoping to retrieve him before my hands were permanently frostbitten.
“Come on, buddy, it’s freezing out here. Where are you?” I muttered as I walked around a large bush.
“I see you embraced your power and are back to wearing your necklace.”
The man’s voice coming from behind me would have simply startled me had it been unfamiliar. As it was, I was intimately familiar with that callous voice and the recognition caused terror and rage to rip through me.
He was here and it was too soon, I wasn’t ready!
I had only had one single training session and I still didn’t know anything about my magic, but that didn’t seem to matter. Ronan was here in the graveyard, standing not five feet behind me. I slowly turned in his direction and attempted to calm my breathing as adrenaline pulsed through my body.
“What do you want, Ronan?” I spoke calmly in a low warning tone.
“Me? Just out for an evening stroll. Imagine my surprise when you showed up. Not very smart for a girl like yourself to be wandering about after dark.” He was now allowing his twisted nature to shine vividly through his eyes and my feet took an involuntary step back.
Twilight Siege: A Dark Fantasy Novel (The Fae Games Book 2) Page 5