A woman. That he knew. She had been in the throne room when Amit was injured. Tom said Frieda had come and healed him. Had they all been wrong about her?
Tom trusted Frieda, though.
“She’s back,” Stephan announced.
“What?” Eric didn’t move his eyes from the screen. He’d watched the same sixty-four seconds about fourteen times and had just seen a droplet of blood splash to the floor from Caro’s hidden face. What else had he missed? Then Stephan’s words broke through. He looked up. “What did you say?”
“Caro Yeats is back at her apartment. Her face is a bit swollen and she’s cautious about her right side but other than that she seems unharmed.”
The relief Eric felt was matched only by his rage at Iverson. What had he put Caro through? His phone hadn’t left his sight, in case a message came through, and now he called her number before Stephan could continue.
“Hey, it’s Caro. Sorry to miss your call, so leave a message!”
Voicemail. He nearly hurled the phone across the room, but managed instead to send a rapid text asking if she was okay.
Then he waited for a count of eight before heading for the door.
“You are not to go without an escort.” Stephan’s voice was unyielding and this wasn’t the hill Eric was ready to die on.
“Fine, but if they’re not at the car when I am, then too bad.”
“Remember, this is meant to unnerve you,” Stephan said. “Iverson is playing games. We don’t even know that’s Caro.”
This brought Eric up short, then he shook his head. “I’ll know her.”
“Will you?”
“I know what I’m doing,” Eric said. He did, too. He would know his woman. And he needed to make things right. He’d already failed her.
The guards were already waiting in the car and he tore out of the garage, leaving the smell of burning rubber in the air. A slight cough came from the rear seat. “Speed limit, sire.”
Eric slowed down a fraction of a mile. It wouldn’t do to get pulled over, but he also couldn’t stand not seeing Caro with his own eyes. In minutes, he pulled up in the parking lot and jumped out of the car with the engine running. One of the guards scrambled to shut it down and the rest made to follow him up the stairs, briefly acknowledging the other team members who had been on surveillance duty.
“No,” Eric said. “You all stay here.” He needed some goddamned privacy for this. He had a shit-load of explaining to do.
“Captain Minor said we weren’t to let you out of sight,” Mai said.
Of course overly cautious Tom would say that. Eric gave in. “Fine. One of you comes up and stays out of sight in the hall. That’s it.”
Mai looked as though she was about to argue, but Eric shot her a look. “Yes, sire,” she said with resignation.
This negotiation had already taken too long. Eric didn’t bother with the elevator but took the stairs two at a time. The combination of Caro’s disappearance and their fight, the defie and his continued inability to shift were all boiling up inside of him. If he encountered one more delay, he might erupt.
Finally, he was in front of her door, fist raised to knock.
He froze. For a long moment, he simply stared at the shiny eggshell paint and the small bronze peephole. What would he say?
Then, his hand moved on its own. He watched as his knuckles rapped on the door.
Nothing. He knocked again.
The old Caro would no doubt have opened the door without thinking so he was glad she was showing caution. If it is her. Stephan’s warning rang in his ears.
“It’s me. Eric.”
There was an excruciatingly long pause, then the door cracked open a bit. It was enough for Eric to see her swollen and blackened eye.
Yes. It was her. Iverson was going to pay.
“Caro, let me in. Please.”
She hesitated before giving a quick nod and opening the door a bit wider. Eric walked in and she backed up. “Don’t come any nearer,” she said, her voice husky from tears.
Eric understood. He didn’t know what Caro had been through last night, but he didn’t blame her if she considered it all his fault. Christ knows he did. Being with her had caused the familiar feeling that he usually had with people who had been close to him. It must be her. He’d know if Iverson had sent a stranger.
“I’m sorry, Caro.” It was all he could say.
“He hurt me. Asked me questions. Then he laughed at me. He said I was useless. Hit me again.” Caro’s voice was emotionless.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. He would have done anything to be able to change the past, but all he could do was witness her suffering. Even now, she felt colder to him, her usual warm energy dulled.
Was Stephan right? Was this Caro?
She tossed her head, her dark waves cutting through the air.
“I want you to come home with me.”
Her glare burned him. “Why? Iverson told me to get out of town. You told me you were glad to see me go. I’m not staying.”
Only Caro would have known that. It was her. The joyous relief that coursed through him was marred by his regret that they’d even had the fight. “I should never have said that. I was stupid. I was hurt. Caro, I need you with me.”
There was a long pause. “You don’t know me.”
“I know you.” About this, he was confident. “Please, stay with me.”
Hesitantly, she nodded but then moved back when he came closer.
“Not yet,” she said. “Don’t touch me. I’ll come with you but I need some time.”
“Of course.” He kept his distance as she packed up, then he followed her down to the car.
Caro was safe. The words sang through him. Caro was safe and nothing could hurt him now.
* * * *
The mineria must have knocked her out for a while because when she woke again, her entire body was numb and she was so hungry she felt sick. Luckily, the drug didn’t seem to make her feel particularly groggy. In fact, she actually felt alert, or as alert as one could feel while trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey in a cell after being punched out, kidnapped, and drugged.
Briefly, she considered calling for help before dismissing it as utterly futile. No one knew she was here except her kidnappers and it wasn’t like they’d forget about her or be softened by her pleas. Fuck them anyway. She wasn’t going to beg. Her hate brought her a momentary bravery.
A door slammed shut nearby and her heart raced. Please let it be Julien so I can spit on him, at least. Footsteps sounded down the hall.
When the door of her cell opened, bright light flooded in from the hall, momentarily blinding her. She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Mon ange, I told you not to fuck Eric Kelton. Look where it’s gotten you.” It was that little weasel Julien, giving a sorrowful look, as though somehow it was her fault that he had to knock her out and tie her up in a dungeon. Like she forced him into it.
She would have turned to the wall to ignore him, but the chains held her in place. Instead she stared at the ceiling and thought about how good it would have felt to dirty up Julien’s stupid casual suit by kicking the hell out of him.
“Eric was never for you,” Julien said in mournful tones. “You were right when you said you could never trust a masquerada. It was like you were speaking to my own coeur.”
That was too much. “How lucky I could depend on a fey.”
Julien put his hand on his chest. “I did what I could, Caro. I gave you advice. I even honored you with an invitation to dinner, though you’re nothing but a half-blood.”
My, he had a way with the ladies. All charm, that Julien. She wanted to wriggle to a more comfortable position but was horribly aware of how vulnerable she was. She couldn’t move an inch.
Julien was still talking in his usual pompous way. “Ive
rson is opening a new path for arcana. I suggested this to Kelton several years ago, a proposal that he rudely dismissed. Iverson has the vision to see how humans should be used by their superiors. Kelton could never see this. Too soft. Too stupid. Blind. Idiote.”
That was enough. Julien was crazy and deluded and Caro might be chained to the bed but she had to shut him up. She gave the bastard a blank stare. “Shut up,” she said. Then she had an idea. “Plus you can’t steal worth shit. I’ve seen teenagers shoplift better than you. You should be embarrassed to call yourself a fey.”
Not the sharpest insult, but Julien hissed and started across the room before a male voice halted him with a word. Caro froze. It had been a year since she last heard that voice in court, and only a few days since she’d heard it on a deserted side street. She’d hoped to never hear it again.
No such luck.
“Release the chain so she can move,” Iverson ordered. “I have plans for her.”
Julien came up and she sneered at him. “Going to try for another feel?”
He slapped her across the face. Despite the sharp pain, she felt a twisted surge of satisfaction for making him lose his temper. “Ferme ta bouche. You were asking for it. You made your choice. I could have protected you. I thought you were worthy of me.”
“You couldn’t protect a goddamn hamster, you pathetic asshole.”
He ignored her and released the chain where it attached to the wall. The heavy links fell to the cot in a cloud of old sweat and steel. Caro sat up and regretted it as she fought back a wave of dizziness. She couldn’t show weakness in front of these two.
They were backlit from the door and she couldn’t make out their faces. Then Iverson spoke. “Get up and walk.”
“Fuck you.”
He sighed. “I see. Let’s dispense with all this posturing, Caro. I’ll lay it out for you. I gave you a chance the other day and you declined to cooperate. That’s fine. As you’ve guessed, now you’re going to die. That’s a given. You should have died a year ago.”
Caro tried not to let her breathing or expression change, but she knew she hadn’t succeeded.
Iverson was still talking. “The questions are: Do you want to die alone or bring a friend? Do you want it easy or hard?”
She refused to respond, but a sense of disaster overtook her.
“You see, right now, Eric Kelton is preparing to fight me. One of us will win, and it will be me. Since it’s a fight to the death, my victory means his death.”
Caro heard Julien grunt with satisfaction.
“Or, you can fight.” Iverson moved closer and paused for her to answer, then went on when she stayed silent. “Still stubborn. I’ll explain. You are a masquerada. I wish I had known this in Washington, but life’s not perfect. I know now. You can take my place in the ring and let Eric kill you. Or, I will kill you here, then go slaughter him like a dog. Either way, you’ll be dead.”
“You’re insane,” she croaked out.
He was at her side, hand at her throat before she even saw him move. “No, simply an angry and driven man.” He shoved her casually before stepping back. “You put me in jail, Caro. They had me under such tight surveillance that it was days before I could get out of that fucking place. You delayed my plans. You should be thanking me for letting you die clean.”
“If I die as you, you lose.”
“Irrelevant to my plans.” Iverson’s handsome face smiled at her, his rugged blond perfection horribly at odds with what he was saying. “You’ve disappointed Julien here, but he’s still dying for a taste of you. He thought he hated masquerada, but it turns out he only hates Eric for getting what he wanted.”
Caro looked at Julien, whose face had hardened at Eric’s name.
“As for Frieda—well, Frieda’s not too pleased with how Eric treated her after all the help she gave him, but he’s not here to punish and you are. You do as I say and they don’t touch you. After all, I need you strong enough to fight. Or at least to walk a straight line.”
“Frieda?” She stared hard at him. Who the hell was that?
“My friend Frieda had some issues with Kelton’s cavalier treatment of her. Julien was kind enough to give her a job and she watched you, learning your mannerisms.”
“Patricia.” Frieda must be the woman’s blond masque, the one she had shifted into at the apartment. She blanched, then cursed herself for showing emotion. That he was telling her all this, in classic villain style, made Caro nauseous. He was going to kill her.
“Patricia is currently charming Kelton. He thinks she’s you—luckily, you’re so boring that copying you was simple. She’ll be able to slip him a little something before the fight, to keep his edge off.”
“Cheating? Not confident, are you?” She wouldn’t even think about Patricia taking on her masque. What Eric and she might do. Her stomach twisted.
Iverson shrugged. “I prefer not to take chances with a half-blood like you in the ring. Now, to my point. You have a choice to make. Kelton has announced that he will fight as his natural self, weak though it is. That kind of pathetic hubris is exactly what I would expect from him. Of course, I—or should I say, you—will be using a little masque that I’ve been saving for this.” He showed a band of white teeth. “I thought of it in the prison yard.”
Caro’s spirits lifted slightly—at least it seemed as though Iverson didn’t know that Eric couldn’t shift. Then the rest of his words hit and she went cold. The prison yard. No doubt Iverson’s form would be big, fast, and deadly. Could Eric win against Iverson? Caro’s mind spun. “Do you think I’m going to fall for this? That I’m dumb enough to think that if I go out and let Eric kill me, you’ll stop going after him?”
Iverson strode over. In a moment, he had Caro on her feet and pressed against his body, then slammed against the cold stone wall. Her breath gushed out of her and she panted as he held her there, one hand at her throat. He raised her face and she smelled the mint on his breath, its freshness making her sick.
“I want Kelton to know that his was the hand that killed you. I would keep him alive for a few days so he could live with that knowledge.”
Say nothing. Do nothing. Fighting down her bile, Caro stared at Iverson, feeling the hate overtake her as his fingers dug painfully into her jaw. His blue eyes were empty and she tried not to shudder. Beside her, Julien’s breath came in quick gasps and she fought the impulse to kick out and try to get him in the nuts.
The options were limited. No one knew she was here. She would be dead anyway. To be honest, she’d sometimes had the feeling she’d been living on borrowed time since the attack, and her life was only a ghostly reflection of what it should have been. It was possible that Iverson was lying and Eric would win, but she knew that Iverson wouldn’t fight fair.
Eric’s secret inability to shift made her fear for him.
She made her choice. She was a goner no matter what. Iverson might go after Eric later, but at least this way she would be able to buy him some time to hunt the SOB down. When she nodded, Iverson pulled his hands away from her fast and she collapsed on the floor. “Good girl. Julien, get her ready.”
Chapter 35
Eric stood in the hall, staring at the door as it closed gently in his face. Caro had insisted on her own room and to be left alone. She’d also refused the medics. What did he expect? At least she was willing to stay in his house. It was up to him to regain her trust and he would. Now she needed space to recover. If she needed time alone, he would give her as much as she wanted. Then, when she was ready, he would be there for her. He was sure it was her. It had to be Caro.
Back in the library, Stephan and Tom hammered out the final details of the Iverson raid. The wall screen was down and a large map of the city projected on it, with the targeted neighborhoods and buildings outlined in red. Eric wasn’t happy when he saw it. “Iverson moved fast.”
“Evie says
he’s been gathering his followers from across the realm.” Stephan’s fingers flew across the keyboard as he updated the map. “We’ve had an influx of visitors over the last week. It’s like a fucking convention.”
“That means most of his support is going to be in the city,” Eric said. “Good. We can get them in one go.”
“This is going to be messier than we anticipated.” Tom scrolled through data on his tablet. “Iverson’s support is growing. We’ve been hearing things.”
“Like what?”
Tom gave Stephan a pointed look. Stephan sighed. “Senseless stuff, Eric. Like that you can’t shift. That you’re going to mate with a human. That you never completed the masquing transformation and are actually still part human yourself. Oh, and that you converged, but that’s getting lost in the rest of it. I guess that’s a plus.”
“Don’t forget that he’s in negotiations with the human governments for our surrender,” Tom added.
Stephan groaned. “I forgot. That too. Surrender what, I have no idea.”
Eric dug his knuckles into his temples. “You can’t be serious.”
“Frankly, I couldn’t make this up.” Stephan made a final change to the map and saved it. “You may have to use a masque at the defie, to prove them wrong.”
All the air left Eric’s lungs but he managed to say, “I’ll think about it.” That was true, he would definitely think about it. It wouldn’t matter. He’d still be unable to shift.
“Sire.” Stephan looked at him. “You kept your convergence from us. Is there anything else you need to tell us?”
“No.” How could he? Admit that he, a masquerada Hierarch, couldn’t even take on a masque?
“Eric.” Stephan’s gaze was steady. “Let us help.”
“I don’t need help.”
Tom snorted. “What if you broke your leg? Would you deny the medics?”
“This is different.”
“No,” Tom said. “It’s not..”
“Do you think so poorly of us?” This was Stephan. “After all the years we’ve been together?”
It was like a punch in the gut. They were his closest friends. Had fought for him through the years. Had been unfailingly loyal. He’d told Caro—he should at least tell the other people worthy of knowing. He wasn’t going to repay them in mistrust. He put his hands flat on the table, forcing them still.
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