Strange dreams came to me in my sleep, dreams of an emerald pendulum and a woman with raven hair. A great gray beast chased her through an open field, throwing up turf and mangled bushes in its wake. Watching helplessly, I could do nothing for the woman, though she cried out for me, “Darian! Stop him!”
I tried to take a step forward, but something held me. Compelled beyond the physical, I dropped to my knees, the emerald pendulum burning my flesh as I squeezed it. The point of the gem dug into my hand, blood welling from the gash in my skin. “You are the Guardian!” she shouted as she ran. “Please, help me!”
The beast leapt, and the woman fell at its feet. She didn’t move as the gargoyle circled her immobile body, its glowing silver eyes trained on my face rather than on its prey. “I’ve had your blood,” the gargoyle said, “and you will obey me.”
Chapter 10
I woke the next morning with feelings of unease stirring within me. The gargoyle of my dream, the Enphigmalé, caused me more disquiet than the poor woman begging me to help her. I couldn’t shake the eerie image of that voice coming from the fanged mouth of the beast, so confident I would obey its commands.
Tyler’s wounds had closed completely during the night. At least I had one thing to be thankful for. Dimitri called to check on Tyler, which in my opinion was a nice gesture, considering that he was married to Anya, and I couldn’t imagine her compassion cup overflowed for either of us. Maybe I wasn’t giving her enough credit. Maybe I was giving her too much.
Though he’d healed superficially, Tyler was still pretty wiped out. Traces of iron had spread through his system, nothing that couldn’t be cured with a little R&R, according to him. So I left him to sleep the day away, unofficially borrowing his motorcycle—hey, he wasn’t going anywhere—and I doubted he’d even realize it was gone. I left my coat at Tyler’s because I didn’t need the long tails tangling in the wheels of the sleek Buell street bike, and sped off through town toward the freeway.
I ducked my head, listening to the wind as it whooshed over the motorcycle helmet. I didn’t needed it for protection, though I might have gotten a ticket if I hadn’t worn one. It kept my hair from whipping around, however, so it served a certain function. I could have traveled as my ethereal self, but even with my preternatural speed, it would have taken a while to make it to the PNT building—and I was in a hurry.
The place looked even more forbidding than the last time I’d visited. But since I didn’t scare easily, I pulled right up to the gate and pushed the call button nice and long, just to annoy whoever was on the receiving end of the noise.
“State your name and business,” a crisp, thoroughly pissed voice said.
“Darian Charles, here on official business for Alexander Peck to see Delilah, the Oracle.” Unless the guard called to check, he’d have no idea I was lying. And I hoped my authoritative tone and use of Xander’s given name wouldn’t give him reason to doubt my being there.
“One moment,” the voice said.
I waited a good three minutes before the gates swung open to allow me entrance. The bike purred as I put it in gear and drove past the guard station and up the steep driveway to the Pacific Northwest Territories nondescript stronghold. I expected Adare to meet me in front of the building as he had the first time I’d been here, but instead of the easygoing Fae, someone I’d hoped not to see waited to escort me inside.
When I’d first laid eyes on him, he’d set me on edge. Now I could say that seeing him for a second time was no less unsettling. I wasn’t afraid; on the contrary, I felt strangely drawn to him. As if I couldn’t get off the bike fast enough, I parked, pulled the helmet from my head, and hung it on the handlebar. I had to force myself to slow as I approached him, my legs rebelling against the pace and urging my steps to quicken. His gaze, lowered toward the ground, rose slowly to meet my eyes, and a lazy, confident smile graced his face. Holy hell, but he was something to look at.
Fallon wasn’t the sort of regal, rugged handsome of Xander, and he was far from the tousled, supermodel gorgeous of Tyler. Rather, he was striking in a way that demanded attention. His features were sharp, precise, and betrayed his lack of humanity. Dark brown hair woven with reddish gold, clipped short in a style that bespoke an active life or military background, framed his face. Eyes, gray like storm clouds, studied me as he folded his arms across a broad chest. His legs were braced apart, military stance, stock-still and straight. His full lips spread into a smirk, and the expression somehow suited him. My body hummed as his energy funneled into me, making me feel too nervous and jittery to stand still. I knocked one boot against the other as if clearing the soles of dirt, and ran my hand through the wind-knotted ends of my hair. I lowered my gaze as I drew closer, unable to meet his eyes, but I could feel him watching me.
I gave myself a mental shake. Jesus, what the hell was wrong with me? You’d think I’d never been in the presence of a looks-and-power combination. Let’s face it; the supernatural community had its share of lookers, as well as power players. Many of us were beautiful and chock-full of energy that spoke of strength; it just came with the genetics. Or the magic. Or both. The sound of seconds passing that I’d trained myself to push to the back of my mind pounded in my veins as I walked toward him. Time would not be ignored as it slogged along, each moment like the tolling of a bell, a warning I could not heed. It must have been the power of Fae magic that drew me to him, though I hadn’t felt this way in Adare’s presence. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken Raif’s admonition so lightly. Too late now.
Fallon’s tongue traced a line along his bottom lip as if he’d just tasted something delicious—or wanted to. “This is an unexpected visit,” he said. “What can the PNT do for you?”
I stared at him, wondering why his voice should sound familiar. “The PNT can’t do anything for me,” I said. “I’m here to question Delilah.”
Fallon opened the door. He swept his arm before him as he waited for me to enter. “You can question her all you like,” he laughed. “But I doubt you’ll get any answers.”
The illusion of uninteresting small business carried over from the parking lot to the interior of the PNT’s building. A reception desk crowded the front of the open first floor, and seated at that desk was a very perky, very human woman. She greeted me with her best customer-service smile and turned her attention back to her computer screen, fingers flying on the keyboard. A small waiting area, complete with couches, magazines, and one of those pump coffee carafes and cups, looked, for the most part, unused. Beyond the front entrance, a row of elevators lined a far wall, and behind the receptionist’s desk were several small offices with closed metal doors. All in all, it was not an overly friendly atmosphere.
I felt Fallon’s presence behind me, the power he exuded nearly stealing my breath. He passed the reception desk toward the elevators, and I followed. One set of metal doors slid open, and Fallon stepped inside. I paused, my eyes scanning the small box and its lack of actual space. Anxiety coursed through my blood, and he met my gaze, his gray eyes burning into mine. “Afraid?” he asked.
The look he gave was an open challenge, and I wasn’t one to back down. But damned if I wasn’t off my game; he unsettled me, and I felt the sudden urge to wish out loud for Adare to be standing here with me instead. I clamped my jaw tight, as if my mouth might betray me and actually make the wish. Shooting a quick glance over my shoulder to the receptionist, I stepped inside and watched as the first floor was closed from my view. “Have you worked for the PNT long?” I asked. Raif hadn’t known him, only heard of him, and I assumed Raif to be very connected. If he didn’t know Fallon personally, he couldn’t have been here long.
Fallon pushed the button marked B for the basement floor. “No,” he said, confirming my suspicion, “I’ve been here only a couple of months. Came over from the Northeast Division. Connecticut.”
I didn’t think any of this information would be good for anything, but the small talk helped to calm my skittering nerves. “Needed a change
of scenery?”
“You could say that,” Fallon answered. “Seattle holds something dear to me.”
Can you say awkward? I stared at my feet as our conversation died a quick and painful death. A million times over, I silently wished I’d stayed in bed with Tyler and wasted the day away. Instead, I was going out of my fucking mind with this stranger standing too close beside me, his unusual energy pulling my nerves so taut, I thought they’d snap.
The elevator stopped and the doors slid open, much to my relief. I wouldn’t have lasted another thirty seconds in such close proximity to my escort without clawing my way out of the elevator. I allowed him to walk in front of me, giving him a healthy head start. His gait was calm, easy with the fluid motion of a stalking cat. We made our way down a long hallway illuminated by a single row of fluorescent lights. None of the doors had latches, I noticed, but beside each on the wall was an electronic keypad. Fallon stopped at the end of the hall, turned to his right, and punched a code into the corresponding keypad.
The door slid open and Fallon announced, “The Oracle,” as if he were introducing me to the queen.
I stepped past him into the stark white cell. Sadly, this was sizing up to be one bitch of a day. Delilah’s accommodations at Xander’s house had been like the Ritz-Carlton in comparison to where she was now. I took stock of the room: four concrete walls: check; windows, or rather lack thereof: check; absence of any comfort, even the most remote—oh yeah, the PNT had that covered too. The room was empty. No furniture—not even a dirty mattress for the poor creature to sleep on. No toilet. I didn’t even want to guess how she was taking care of that issue.
Like a tiny speck of dirt on a fresh-snow-covered field, Delilah sat on the floor. She was no longer rocking, to my relief, but she was huddled close to a corner, her knobby knees drawn up tight to her chest and her arms hugging her body as if keeping it intact. She looked so young, so completely breakable, that I almost felt sorry for her. “Bet you wish you were anywhere but here right now,” I said. Delilah completely ignored me.
Fallon stepped into the room, and Delilah’s head snapped to attention like a dog hearing a high-frequency whistle. Her unseeing eyes stared straight ahead, but her head cocked in the avian fashion that made her stand out as something other than human. She must have felt his energy as well because, as soon as he cleared the threshold, Delilah began to shake all over, her tiny bare feet scuttling her back against the corner as if she could will the walls to swallow her whole. I stared from Delilah to Fallon, thinking again of Raif’s warning that he was dangerous.
“Okay, Delilah,” I said, going for my best impression of fed-up mom. “Your weak-and-frightened act is getting a little boring. I’ve got a lot of questions and not a lot of time. So let’s get down to business. If you cooperate, I promise not to hit you—much. If you don’t cooperate…well, I’ll use my fists instead of an open hand. Got it?”
She didn’t respond, though her mouth opened and closed, like a fish that had been dragged up onshore. I sighed. I wanted to get the hell out of there—fast—and Delilah was not making this easy for me. “Delilah!” I nudged at her bare foot, and she flinched. “I know you can hear me, you blind pain in the ass! Knock this shit off. Remember the night I hauled your skinny ass over to Xander’s? You mentioned Raif’s daughter. Where is she?”
Nothing. Unless you wanted to count her fish-mouth routine.
I took a step forward, bending low and wrapping my hand around the collar of her shirt. As I hauled her to her feet, her head cocked rapidly from side to side and a strangled cry escaped her lips. “Answer me!” I shouted, giving her a solid shake.
“She can’t,” Fallon finally said. “I told you, you weren’t going to get anything out of her.”
I dropped Delilah to the floor, and she scrambled back to her perch in the corner of the room. Her body shook like a hypothermia victim, her head cocking toward any sound. I folded my arms—more or less to occupy my hands—wishing I had something I could punch just to release my own tension. Fuck it all, this day was going to shit fast. “Why won’t she speak?” My voice was hard enough to cut glass.
Fallon stepped forward and passed his open palm in the air above Delilah’s forehead. A mark appeared, glowing gold at the point of her third eye. “She’s been restrained by magic,” he said. “You saw Adare cast the spell the day you brought her here, did you not? She’ll be unable to speak or act against anyone until the date of her trial. It’s standard PNT procedure.”
Oh. Just. Great.
I turned on Fallon. “You know, it might have been nice to know that before I hauled her scrawny ass up off the floor and shook her like a wet cat. And if you’d mentioned this when I arrived, I wouldn’t be down in this dungeon, wasting my fucking time.”
“Whom are you looking for?” Fallon asked, ignoring everything I’d just said.
“None of your goddamned business—that’s who I’m looking for.”
“Touchy.” He leveled his gaze, another challenge.
“You could say that.”
“Who’s Raif?”
Who’s Raif? This guy wasn’t from the Northeast; he was from another planet. Raif’s reputation preceded him. You had to have been living under a rock not to have at least heard of Raif Peck. Then again, I’d lived almost a hundred years without hearing even a whisper of his name. But I could hardly be blamed for that. The supernatural world had kept a safe distance from me all those years. And I sure as hell hadn’t been looking for them.
“Raif is…” What was he? The prince? An earl? I had no idea what the king’s brother’s official title was. “The High King’s brother. And all around badass,” I added. “I believe Delilah knows the whereabouts of his daughter, who’s been missing for quite a while.”
“Why didn’t Raif come here himself to question the Oracle?”
His tone matched the look in his eyes, an underlying command. And even as I gave up this secret information, I wondered what in God’s name would possess me to tell him. I’d had no intention of sharing this secret with anyone. Yet here I was, spilling the beans to someone who made me want to jump out of my skin. It seemed I couldn’t wait to provide information to him. I needed to leave before I started rambling on about my fabulous sex life.
“Raif doubts her.” I jerked my head toward Delilah. Shut up, Darian! “And so I decided to take up the cause myself.” Zip it, for Christ’s sake!
Something flashed in Fallon’s eyes, like lightning on a dark gray afternoon. “Perhaps I could help you on your quest?”
Not bloody likely. “I doubt that.” That’s right. You don’t need to spill your guts to him!
“What if I told you I could lift the spell before the trial?”
Oh boy. Shit. I bucked my chin up, met his steely gaze. “Do it, then.”
“Not now,” he said, lowering his voice. “But soon. Be patient, and I’ll be in touch.”
I didn’t want him touching anything. In fact, I didn’t ever want to see his face again. “Now or never,” I countered.
“If you want this, you’ll have to play by my rules.”
Lousy SOB. I walked past him, out of Delilah’s earshot, and he followed, the door sliding shut with an echoing finality. If I didn’t hurry, Delilah would be transported to Portland before I could question her. And after that, who knew what the PNT Council would do with her. They might kill her, for all I knew, and then my only connection to Brakae would be lost. I walked in silence to the elevator, arguing with myself over any course of action. Agreeing to Fallon’s proposal felt very much like making a deal with the devil, and I didn’t plan on selling my soul anytime soon. But I wanted—no, needed—to do this for Raif. I had to find the child he’d grieved over for hundreds of years. I could never bring his wife back from the dead. Maybe I could give him back his daughter.
“Fine,” I said once the elevator doors slid shut. “What do you propose?”
“Just give me a little time. I’ll work something out.”
&n
bsp; “And how will I know when you’ve finally got your shit together?”
Deposited back on the reception floor, I stepped out of the elevator and waited. Fallon made no move to follow me but held the doors open. “As I said, I’ll be in touch.” He released his grip and the doors closed, leaving me staring at my own reflection in the silvered surface.
Damn, I hated how supernaturals conducted business.
Chapter 11
I rode home with the helmet secured to the back of the bike. It felt like the damned thing was suffocating me. I’d just have to deal with the ticket if any cop was ballsy enough to pull me over. My hair swirled in a torrent around my face as I weaved in and out of traffic. I couldn’t get away from Fallon fast enough.
Since I’d been gone only a couple of hours, I didn’t return to Tyler’s apartment. Best to let him rest, and besides, I seriously needed to wind down. I parked the bike in front of my building and melted into nothingness. Too anxious for even a quick ride up my own elevator, I became corporeal only once I was safely in my apartment. I paced around the living room for a few quick laps, trying to rid myself of the pent-up energy suspended in my body like a bottled hurricane.
I’d made an unlikely alliance with a perfect stranger. I couldn’t even be sure myself if Delilah spoke the truth. Though her words rang with honesty, it could have been another ploy to twist the knife in Raif’s back and offer payback for a sister killed centuries ago. And though I’d felt compelled to tell Fallon of my plan to find Brakae, I’d never had any intention of letting anyone from the PNT become involved. My knowledge of the Fae was shallow at best. I couldn’t be sure what type of Fae Fallon actually was, or wasn’t, as the case might be. Over the months, I’d learned there were Fae belonging to the night and others to the day. Some that held kinship with water and others with the sky. And I’d heard of Fae who made their homes in the earth, for they took comfort from the dirt and growing things.
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