Feversong: A Fever Novel

by Karen Marie Moning

  I said with no small regret, “I don’t think I get wings. I never saw them on the queen. Anybody know if she had wings?”

  Everyone shrugged or shook their heads.

  “Isn’t Cruce supposed to be here?” Christian said.

  Jada kicked back in her chair, propped her boots on the coffee table and said coolly, “Cruce.”

  The Unseelie prince appeared a few feet away from her, looking thunderous. And still more than a little pained by the loss of his wings. He was once again wearing the glamour of V’lane, still moving stiffly. He whirled, on instant guard, then stopped moving and murmured, “I’ve never been inside the bookstore before.” His gaze went everywhere at once.

  “I assure you, you’ll find nothing of interest, or I’d not have permitted you here,” Barrons said dryly. “I relocated anything you might have liked seeing before you came.”

  “Why have you summoned me?” Cruce demanded.

  “How have you summoned him?” I said blankly.

  Jada tapped her cuff. “Now that it’s closed, he’s as bound to it as the wearer is to him. Near as I could figure, it closed when the Book opened the doors to his prison beneath the abbey.”

  I scowled at him. “So it was true. If I’d put it on when you’d been posing as V’lane, you’d have been able to summon me anytime you wanted.”

  “Why am I here?” Cruce repeated imperiously. He shot me an icy look. “Because you have come to your senses and realized I should be the bearer of the True Magic?”

  “You’re here,” I said evenly, “because if we don’t figure out the Song of Making, and in a hurry, you and your entire race will cease to exist. I won’t remind you of that again. There will be no dissension or hostility if you want to survive. After we’ve saved the world, you can fight with me all you want to about who should have the queen’s power.”

  “Promise?” he said silkily.

  Great. Was there some quirky Fae law that allowed him to do formal battle with me for the power if he chose to? I snorted. I’d deal with that later if so.

  Dancer arrived last, banging in the door, eyes dancing with excitement. “Hey, Mega! Hey, Mac!” he said enthusiastically. “Hey, guys,” he added, with a nod toward the group. “Damn,” he said, turning in a slow circle. “There’s a bloody nuclear load of power in this room!”

  There certainly was. I only hoped it was enough.

  Cruce claimed he had no idea what the bracelet and binoculars were, nor did anyone else have any theories. But when I withdrew the glittering music box, the prince’s eyes widened faintly and he moved imperceptibly toward it before checking himself.

  The squat, square box perched on short, ornate legs and was roughly eight by eight inches wide by four inches high, but I somehow knew it could open into a vastly different shape and size than it assumed currently. The lid was a softly glowing luminous pearl embedded with winking gems, attached to the base by diamond-crusted hinges. The sides were covered with elaborate gold filigree and embedded with still more gems. There was no lock or visible catch but when I handed the box to Dancer to inspect, he was unable to open it.

  Cruce said, “Let me try.”

  I shook my head as Dancer handed it back to me. “Tell me what it is,” I parried.

  “I would need to inspect it more closely in order to do that,” he thrust.

  “Can you wield the Song of Making if we find it?” I said.

  He stared icy daggers at me. “You know I could not.”

  “Then why do you think you can continue to withhold information from me? You’re no better than the king. In fact, you’re just like him—wrapped up in your ego and selfish aims. You don’t give a damn about your race. All your impressive talk as V’lane about how Cruce was such a hero, standing up for his brothers, a rogue warrior fighting—”

  “ENOUGH!” Cruce thundered so loudly the floor shook, lamps wobbled on tables, and the sky exploded with the percussion of a sudden storm. The temperature plunged drastically and the entire bookstore iced, ceiling, floor, couches, flames in the fireplace, even us.

  Damn, I thought as I cracked the ice by standing abruptly. That had been impressive, and in order to control this prince, I was going to have to outdo him. But not with ice. That wasn’t the Seelie way.

  I summoned the memory of the scent of flowers on the mound beneath three moons and envisioned the bookstore on a sunny summer day.

  The ice vanished.

  He gave me a cool, assessing look.

  Good. I’d rattled him. For whatever reason, he hadn’t expected a display of power from me yet. Considering he’d been at Aoibheal’s side when she assumed her reign, that must mean it had taken even her time to understand how to use what she’d been given.

  Eyes narrowed, nostrils flared, I said icily, “I don’t know what I can and can’t do, Cruce, but I will learn, and quickly, and if you make me learn the hard way, I’ll turn every bit of it against you. I can be the sheepdog that walks at your side, or I can be the wolf you don’t want living in your backyard. The powerful, hungry, savage, and pissed-off wolf, and I promise you, I will delight in destroying your backyard. I have a long memory and few scruples left. It’s your call, babe.”

  Did I really just say that? I glanced at Barrons, and the corners of his mouth were twitching faintly as if fighting a smile.

  Without another word, Cruce vanished.

  Jada opened her mouth to summon him back.

  “No,” I commanded. “Let him go. We don’t have time for his games.” I, alone, would deal with his games, later. I knew Cruce well enough to know that as things stood, he wasn’t going to willingly share a single piece of information with us. Only too recently, he’d watched as his queen had bypassed him in favor of a human, and even as V’lane, the prince had always been vain and proud. It was going to take a small miracle to wed him to our aim. I needed time to figure out what that miracle was.

  Dropping back down to the sofa, I fiddled with the box and eased it open. Even braced as I was for the otherworldly music, it still got me and instantly transported me far, far away, filled me with such a buoyant sense of freedom and joy that I sat, shivering in near ecstasy until the exquisite melody abruptly stopped. Then I shivered with sudden cold and isolation, bereft, a true believer cut off from God.

  I realized dimly that Barrons had me by the shoulders and was shaking me, roaring, “Mac!” straight into my face.

  I blinked up at him. “What?” I said blankly.

  “What the hell was that horrific sound?” he demanded.

  “Horrific? It wasn’t horrific. It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. It hurts to stop hearing it.” I glanced around the room for confirmation of my words, reinforcement that there was something wrong with Barrons’s hearing, not mine, but everyone was looking at me as if I was crazy. “Oh, come on! How could you not think that song was beautiful?” I glanced at Jada. “Wasn’t it mind-blowingly amazing to you?”

  She shook her head grimly. “It made me want to die.”

  I frowned at Dancer.

  “Ditto,” he said roughly. “That was pure hell.”

  I looked back at Barrons, who nodded, then at Christian and Ryodan, who nodded in turn.

  “Made my bloody skin crawl,” Christian said tightly.

  I shot Ryodan a look. “What did it make you feel?”

  He gave me a penetrating look and said carefully, “Like I was having a hard time holding on to my skin.”

  My eyes widened as I got the message and my gaze flew back to Barrons.

  His dark eyes gleamed. We both nearly changed. Had to fight it with everything I had.

  I frowned down at the music box, wondering what in the world it was, and why only I could hear the exquisite melody it played.

  We wrapped up a little over an hour later, having accomplished pretty much jack shit.

  No one had been willing to let me open the music box again, although Dancer asked me to bring it by the lab the next day. Everyone agreed that it
shouldn’t be permitted out of my or Barrons’s hands, as Cruce had clearly coveted it and could easily take it from Dancer.

  “I’ll listen to it again tomorrow but I want to hear it at my lab. I think there’s something to it. Any frequency that has such a profound effect demands further inquiry. It felt like the Devil’s tritone to an exponential degree,” he told me, grimacing as he reflected on it. He paused at the door, ready to leave, and glanced back at Jada, a smile lighting his face. “You coming?”

  She gave him a cool look. “Something came up. Raincheck.”

  His smile faltered. Though he tried to quickly conceal his disappointment, it was evident for all to see.

  Ryodan said, “I don’t need you tonight after all, Jada. Go with him. Take the night off.”

  Her head whipped his way and she glared daggers at him.

  “Cool,” Dancer enthused. “Let’s go.” He was back to being happy again.

  “Ryodan’s…issues…weren’t the only things that came up,” Jada said tonelessly. “I’m busy.”

  Ryodan said in a voice I’d never heard before, and couldn’t even peg the emotion of, “Jada. Go. With. Him. Now.”

  They locked gazes for a long moment, then she stood, bristling, blasted past Dancer and stormed out the door, tossing a “C’mon, let’s go” over her shoulder to the bewildered looking young man.

  Once they were gone, I said to Ryodan, “What on earth happened between you two? Last thing I remember is you saving her from the fire. I thought she’d appreciate that.”

  “She did. Even bloody thanked me. But then something else happened.”

  I waited.

  He assessed me a moment, taking in the Khaleesi-blond hair, lingering on my eyes a long moment. “I’ll be damned. You really are turning Fae. Do they have the power to heal human bodies?”

  I pondered that a moment then said, “I believe they do to some degree but I don’t know how, nor do I know how fully. I suspect they use the Elixir of Life to heal serious wounds on the exceedingly rare occasion they want to keep a mortal alive, and that has a serious side effect.” Immortality. “Why? Who’s injured? And can’t you do anything about it?”

  “Not something of this severity. This is beyond my ability to affect unless I did the same thing I did to Dageus—”

  Barrons growled, “Which you are never doing again.”

  “I have no intention of it. I doubt he’d survive it anyway. He’s not the right raw material.”

  “He—who?” I demanded.

  “Dancer,” Ryodan said tightly. “He has a congenital heart problem. Apparently quite serious.”

  I went rigid. Dani adored him. They had something more than mere friendship. Once, long ago, she’d blushed when she told me he’d given her a bracelet. I’d often wondered if a romance might bloom between them. And as she continued to thaw, becoming more like Dani and less like Jada, he seemed the perfect fit. The right young man to make her feel alive again, perhaps recapture a sense of innocence. Whether or not that happened, it would still break her heart to lose him. And she’d already had more than her share of heartache and loss. Why him, of all people? “This is complete and utter bullshit,” I seethed.

  “I agree,” Ryodan said grimly as he vanished out the door.

  JADA

  I threw my leg across the Ducati, glanced back at Dancer to motion him to get on behind me then shot right back off it and growled, “I changed my mind. Let’s walk.” If I crashed the bike, no big to me. Every big to him. Besides, he was already excited enough about Mac and the song and music box. I didn’t want him getting any more excited.

  Don’t kill the boy before he’s dead, Jada, Ryodan had said with his cool silver gaze moments earlier. You’ll hate yourself for it one day. Go talk with him.

  He was right. But I would certainly have appreciated a little more time to deal with the unpleasant reality of Dancer’s flawed biology before having to deal with the very pleasant reality of Dancer, alive and laughing and ready to tear off on our next reckless adventure—which would never happen again because he wasn’t blowing out his heart on my watch. That was something I’d really hate myself for, and not one day. Instantly.

  “Aw, c’mon,” he protested, “I’ve never ridden a Ducati before. Show me what it can do!”

  I was gripped by a sudden fierce desire to protect him. Or lock him up somewhere and never even let him breathe hard.

  “Seriously, I want to walk.” I loped off down the street, knowing he’d follow.

  He didn’t. But I didn’t figure that out for a block and a half, when I turned to snatch a sideways glance at him, see if I saw any signs of strain in his face, if I was walking too fast.

  I was alone, confirming how off-kilter I was. With my senses, I should have registered that I wasn’t hearing him.

  I spun around, peering into the night. There he was, way down the street, still standing in front of Barrons Books & Baubles, arms folded over his chest, leaning against a streetlamp. I felt my chest grow tight and caught my breath. I’d always thought he was attractive, now even more so with the amber glow of the gas lamp burnishing his dark hair with a kiss of gold, his eyes the color of tropical sea surf. It made me feel perversely mad at him. “What the hell are you doing?” I snapped.

  “Waiting for you to come back here and tell me what the bloody hell is wrong with you,” he snapped back.

  A dozen caustic replies took shape on my tongue but all that came out was a soft, miserable sigh. There he stood, six feet four inches of solid, healthy man, but the heart inside his athletic body didn’t possess the same strength. What kind of universe pulled such a dickhead stunt? And why him? Why not, say, someone mean and deceitful like Margery or someone evil like Rowena—but no, that old bitch had lived well into her eighties! I sank down cross-legged on the sidewalk as the unthinkable happened and tears stung my eyes. I ducked my head so he wouldn’t see it, so he’d think I was just being stubborn and staying where I was, making him come to me.

  A few seconds later I glanced up and saw the weirdest thing. Dancer was hurrying down the street toward me, but that’s not what was weird. Ryodan was the weird thing. He was standing outside the bookstore, staring down the street at us, hands fisted at his sides, looking quite possibly angrier than I’d ever seen him, and I’ve seen that dude ten shades beyond pissed, well into homicidal fury.

  I knew he could see the faint shimmer of moisture on my cheeks. Eagle Eyes once saw a drop of moisture on an ice sculpture I hadn’t been able to see. I gave him a look and a shrug, like, What? You wanted me to cry and let it out. Just doing what you told me. Are you ever happy with a damn thing I do? Then I flipped him off. Shit. I plunged the defiant hand into my pocket. That wasn’t me. That was someone I used to be. What the hell was happening to my center?

  But I knew the answer to that. First Shazam. Now Dancer. Did the universe harbor a secret grudge against me? Was it not going to be happy until it had stolen everyone I cared about?

  “I wasn’t flipping you off,” I told Dancer as he approached.

  But when Dancer glanced back to see who’d pissed me off, Ryodan was gone.

  “Caoimhe told you, didn’t she?” Dancer said a short time later as he handed me a heaping bowl of mixed fruit topped with whipped cream. “She promised me she would never talk to you about it. I told her you knew but hated discussing it.”

  I nodded. I’d eliminated all trace of tears by the time Dancer had reached me, and if he’d noticed my eyes were red, he chose not to comment. I didn’t understand the point of crying. All you got from it was a stuffed up nose and a short-lived headache, and I was always dangerously hungry afterward. It didn’t solve a thing. It didn’t change a thing. It only made you feel worse.

  “How much did she tell you?” he asked, motioning me to follow him into the living room.

  “You never brought me here before,” I dodged, wondering what he meant by “how much.” Hadn’t she told me the worst? I terminated that thought and resumed studying h
is digs. “Here” was the top floor of an old firehouse that overlooked the River Liffey and had been converted into a huge one-room loft, partitioned with furniture placement into kitchen, living room, and bedroom. Thick cream sheepskin rugs covered well-worn hardwood floors. The furnishings were simple, modern, comfortable. The entire wall facing the river was window from floor to ceiling. I stared out, watching the silvery slide of the water, wishing I could slide off on it.

  “This is where I live most of the time. I kept a lot of other places because I never knew what part of town you might be hanging out in.”

  “You lived two completely separate lives. One with me and one without.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you had…you know?”

  “A bad heart? You’d have disappeared and I’d never have seen you again. There was no room in your world for anything less than a superhero. I’m not sure there is now either.”

  I said fiercely, “I’m here, aren’t I?” And I didn’t want to be. I wanted to be anywhere else, doing something with purpose that made me feel good, not staring into Death’s impersonal jaws as they tried to close on one of the few people I wanted to see often, and couldn’t wait to see each time so we could blurt out everything we thought to each other. At fourteen there’d never been a sense of urgency. We’d been kids. We were going to live forever. He was always going to be somewhere around the next corner.

  Not.

  “Yes, but to what degree and with what new conditions that must be met?” he countered. “I knew the second you didn’t want me on the Ducati that you’d found out. Then you slow-mo-Joe walked down the street. You never do that. Is that how we’re going to be now? Dancer’s so fragile that Dancer doesn’t get to do anything not Mega-approved, and that might not even include something so strenuous as swatting a fly?”

  Sounded bloody good to me. I spooned up fruit and swallowed but it got stuck on a lump in my throat. I coughed and spat it back out into the bowl. He was beside me in an instant, ready to give me the Heimlich, as he had so many times in the past when I’d wolfed my food too fast to swallow. “I’d let you swat a fly,” I said crossly.