by Wood, Vivian
Mere Marie cocked her head, giving Gabriel a considering look.
“And just where would you go, my dear?” was her only reply.
She turned and headed back to the house, missing Gabriel’s thunderous scowl.
“Come on,” Rhys said, clapping a hand to Gabriel’s shoulder. “Don’t let her bait you.”
Aeric returned, throwing them each a pair of gloves, and they all headed for the garage. Gabriel used an iPad to pull up satellite and street view images of the house they were heading to, and they discussed tactical issues as they drove. They pulled into a quiet section of the Gentilly Terrace neighborhood, finding the house on a long street lined with squat brick bungalows.
“There, on the left,” Aeric said, pointing out the house.
Rhys pulled the SUV up across the street, not bothering with keeping a low profile. The second that Echo had knocked on this door, Pere Mal had likely started looking out for the Guardians.
Rhys pushed down the anger burning in his chest at the thought of Echo being foolish enough to give herself up to Pere Mal. No doubt the man had threatened her, threatened kill Tee-Elle or something. But the fact that she hadn’t trusted Rhys to protect her, to protect her family, was a blow straight to the heart.
On top of that, his mate had made things so easy for Pere Mal, all the while making things much harder for the Guardians.
“Rhys,” Aeric said, nudging his shoulder. “We need to execute the plan.”
Rhys nodded, shaking off his dark thoughts as they exited the SUV. Aeric held the enchanted dagger, but all three men pulled on gloves. Sunrise was still an hour or more away, so the Guardians were alone on the street, all the houses silent and dark.
They ran to the door on silent feet, Gabriel kicking in the front door and stepping back to let Rhys enter first.
“Shi—” Rhys started, but his speech was cut off as he felt the brief moment of free fall and heard the soft sucking pop. They’d walked right into a bolt-hole.
Rhys stumbled to a stop, Gabriel and Aeric bumping his shoulders as they flanked him, all three trying to take in their new surroundings. They were in a completely different house, this one a once-grand Victorian number with crumbling walls, a glassless chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and a grand staircase missing half its steps.
Moonlight streamed in through a broken window by the front door, and Rhys cocked his head to listen. The house seemed empty and silent, and he gestured to Gabriel and Aeric to follow as he headed through the ground floor, trying to stay as quiet as possible.
The house was massive. Rhys passed several parlors and a sprawling kitchen on his way to the back door, which let out into a wildly overgrown garden. The whole yard was lined with unkempt bushes that were at least twice Rhys’s height.
“A fucking hedge maze?” Gabriel sighed as he pointed out a break in the verdant fence. “Really? Where are we, a Lewis Carroll novel?”
Rhys ignored Gabriel’s joke and headed for the entrance to the maze, leading the other two men. They hit a dead end almost immediately. Turning around, Rhys went the other way. In less than a minute, they hit another dead end, then another.
“Where the hell are we?” Rhys asked, looking up at the sky. The sun was high and bright, but the air around them was dry and cool. Clearly they weren’t in New Orleans anymore.
“I think… I could be wrong, but I think we’re in Ireland,” Gabriel said.
“Why would we be in Ireland?” Aeric asked.
“Mere Marie said that Pere Mal wants to find the Gates of Guinee, because he wants a way into the spirit realm. There are lots of other gates, though. Ireland is lousy with them, if you know where to look. Or you happen to know a Faery who will tell you,” Gabriel explained. “And the weather is right. The air smells a bit salty, like we’re close to the sea. I think we’re in southern Ireland, and our friend Pere Mal has found a place where the Druids used to congregate, where the Veil is thinnest.”
Rhys grunted, disinterested in engaging in a speculative debate while his mate was in danger. He kept moving, growing more and more frustrated by the moment.
The walls were higher and more chaotic as they went, closing in on them as they progressed into the maze; by the time they hit a fourth dead end, Rhys was feeling so claustrophobic that his skin was crawling, the fine hairs at his nape standing on end.
“Let me,” Aeric said when Rhys stopped and clenched his fists in anger and frustration. “There is a trick, I think. A pattern.”
Rhys shot him a grateful glance and nodded, and in a few minutes they were deep in the maze, closing in on the middle.
Gabriel stopped them both, cupping a hand to his ear, encouraging them to listen.
“I don’t know! I don’t know anything else!” came Echo’s tearful voice, faint but unmistakable.
“You cannot lie to Pere Mal, cher,” came the reply. “Tell me the names.”
A high-pitched scream followed, and Aeric had to restrain Rhys from climbing the closest maze wall to get to Echo. Aeric took point, leading them around two sharp turns. A large gap in the maze appeared at the end of the row and the Guardians moved on it as quickly as they could without giving themselves away.
“Cassandra!” Echo sobbed.
Rhys burst into a clearing to find his mate lashed to a huge marble statue of a weeping angel, Echo’s arms tied to the angel’s outstretched wings, her torso pinned in by the angel’s arms.
Pere Mal stood beside her holding a long, thin black wand in one hand and a ceremonial dagger in the other; between Pere Mal and Echo was a seven-pointed star outlined in chalk and salt, a small scrying mirror lying in the middle.
Between Rhys and Pere Mal were at least a dozen of Pere Mal’s men. Even as Rhys grappled with the closest dark-suited henchman, Pere Mal moved closer to Echo and positioned the dagger close to her neck, watching the Guardians with an expression of indolent curiosity.
Rhys pulled his sword and dispatched two of Pere Mal’s men in less than a minute, growing distracted when Pere Mal sliced Echo’s hand with the ceremonial knife. Pere Mal let her blood drip onto the knife and flung some of it onto the mirror at their feet, leaning close to whisper something to her.
Rhys grunted and lunged at another suited bad guy, watching as Echo shook her head, growing pale. Pere Mal pointed his wand directly at Rhys, giving Rhys just enough time to drop and roll, narrowly avoiding a nasty hex. The spell hit the henchman instead and the man crumpled to the ground, clawing at his throat and choking violently.
“Echo, don’t give him what he wants!” Rhys said, scrambling to his feet. He tossed his sword at another man, catching him clean in the middle.
Another approached with a gun, and Rhys crouched to shift into his bear form. Gabriel seemed to have had the same idea, because moments later there were two massive, raging bears in the clearing, and only four henchmen left. Two of Pere Mal’s guys turned and fled into the maze, so Rhys and Gabriel took down the other two.
Behind them, Aeric pulled the dagger from its cloth bed and held it aloft, catching Pere Mal’s attention.
“Where did you get that?” Pere Mal hissed, his shoulders hunching. He backed toward the maze’s exit, pointing his wand at Echo all the while. “I’ll kill her if you come any closer.”
Rhys dropped back on his haunches and let out a deafening roar. No way was this bastard getting away. He jerked his head at Gabriel, who moved between Pere Mal and Echo, blocking the man’s ability to spell her.
With that, Rhys and Aeric charged. Rhys lunged, trying to keep Pere Mal away from the exit and move him toward Aeric. Aeric edged forward, forcing their prey to choose between facing a deadly, spelled dagger and a very pissed off werebear. In the end, Pere Mal gave Rhys his back as he used his wand to fling a spell at Aeric.
Aeric somehow used the dagger to deflect the spell, spinning it off into the maze. While he was distracted, Pere Mal turned for the exit. Rhys rushed him with a roar, catching him in a heartbeat.
Just as Rh
ys was prepared to sink his jaws into Pere Mal’s flesh, Pere Mal surprised him by turning and moving toward Rhys. There was a flash of metal above Rhys’s head, and a sudden flood of pain.
Rhys looked down to see that Pere Mal had driven the ceremonial dagger into Rhys’s chest. Rhys growled and swatted at Pere Mal. To his surprise, Pere Mal danced backward and avoided Rhys’s blow.
Rhys was surprised again when he felt himself falter, his muscles trembling and locking up. He’d taken many wounds in his bear form, usually shaking them off without a problem. This time was different, though.
The pain began to radiate through his chest and torso, then into his arms and legs. His muscles twitched and convulsed, his lungs contracted. His vision swam with bright spots, then flickered.
It wasn’t until Rhys collapsed onto the ground that he understood.
He was dying.
15
Chapter Fifteen
Echo
“Rhys, NO!”
The scream ripped from Echo’s throat as Gabriel lumbered up to her in his bear form, using his sharp claws to cut away the ropes binding her wrists and chest. Echo saw Aeric vanish back into the maze, chasing Pere Mal.
Gabriel began to shift back to his human form, startling Echo a bit with the violence of the change to his body. She ripped her gaze away as she ran to kneel beside Rhys, her heart in her throat as she saw the bloody wound on his furred chest.
“Shit, shit, shit,” she whispered, groaning with effort as she rolled him over.
“Here, let me help,” Gabriel said, appearing beside her. They managed to get Rhys’s bear turned onto his back.
“Check his pulse,” Echo demanded, examining the gaping wound. Blood poured from the gash, but Echo could see that the bleeding was slowing already. She wasn’t sure if that meant that Rhys was dying or healing.
“I can’t find it,” Gabriel muttered, cupping the bear’s head and searching along his jawline.
“You’re one of them!” Echo snapped. “How do you not know?”
“That’s not what I mean,” Gabriel said. “I mean he doesn’t have a fucking pulse.”
Echo’s mouth went dry. She held out her shaking hands, lightly pressing them over Rhys’s wound. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on trying to heal him. The magic welled in her and tried to flow out, but it found nowhere to go. Usually it just sort of soaked into a wound, but now it wouldn’t work.
“No no no,” Echo whispered, tears pricking her eyes. She tried again and again, but to no avail.
“Echo,” Gabriel said, touching her arm.
She opened her eyes at looked at him, only now realizing that tears streamed down her face. When she pulled her hands away from Rhys’s skin, his form rippled, shifting back from bear to human. Not a good sign, Echo was pretty sure.
“Echo, I think… we’re just so close to the Veil, I think he’s crossed over already,” Gabriel said, looking grave. “Or he’s very close.”
“Start CPR,” Echo said. “Just the chest compressions, okay?”
Gabriel gave her a look.
“I mean it,” Echo insisted. “And whatever you do, don’t touch me until I come back. Don’t let anybody touch me.”
“Come back? Where are you going?” Gabriel asked, but Echo had already put him out of her mind.
The Veil was indeed very close. She had been acutely aware of it the second she’d stepped into the bolt-hole, finding her way through the maze by letting the Veil draw her closer and closer.
Closing her eyes, Echo opened her senses. The Veil was not a physical place, not a door to walk through or a bolt-hole to discover. In her mind, it felt like a big, cold wave of thick, damp air. She’d never interacted with it before, but she quickly realized that she would have to imagine herself engaging with the Veil. She would set the stage, and her will would be imposed.
Echo pictured herself standing before a huge curtain made of glistening gold velvet. In her mind, she parted the curtain in the middle, squinting against the bright light that shone out at her. She swallowed and stepped through, feeling herself sort of suctioned in by the air.
The spirit realm wanted her, drew at her, so she let it pull her in. In her mind, the other side of the curtain led into a dark, damp cavern. An icy stream trickled past her bare feet; only then did Echo realize that she was dressed in nothing but a few scraps of gauze. The spirit realm had stripped everything else away, even in her own mind.
Peering into the dim tunnel ahead, Echo tried to make out the path ahead. She took a heavy step forward, gasping as the world darkened by a magnitude. The water at her feet rose by a foot, freezing her shins; it was no mere trickle here, but a swift-moving stream.
“Rhys?” she called out. Somewhere in the darkness, she thought she could see a near-imperceptible shift.
Another step forward, and Echo was completely blind. The water rose to her thighs, chilling her to the bone, pushing at the backs of her legs as if urging her deeper into the cave. The thought struck her that she could just let herself fall, let the current carry her on…
“NO!” Echo said, giving herself a shake. “Don’t be stupid.”
Another step, the water coming up to her hips. Echo closed her eyes and thought of Rhys, seeking the connection between them. It took her a long moment to find the tether between them and give it a tug. Still, there was a responding pulse of awareness, a certain knowing.
He was here, and he was close.
Steeling herself, Echo took another step. In the back of her mind, a little voice wondered just how many steps she should allow herself before giving up on him. Another voice wondered if she could make that distinction, or whether she would let herself be swept away down the river.
She thought of her mother, suddenly. Her mother had once stood just here, hadn’t she? Waded into this very river, stood in this spot, tried to decide how far to go in, how much she should risk for the man she loved.
And she’d lost it all, hadn’t she?
Using her shoulder to wipe the tears from her cheeks, Echo wondered if she should go back. The very idea of leaving Rhys here ripped at her soul, but her body was growing so numb, so heavy. Her heart was pounding, but she was so tired…
“One more step,” she promised herself, her voice hoarse. “Just one more.”
Echo took another step, gasping with shock as the icy water jumped up to her chest. Her whole body trembled, her legs beyond numb, her fingers turning to ice.
“Rhys!” she called. “Rhys, please come back to me. I can’t go much further!”
She dragged her arms up, holding them out before her body. Her fingertips tingled, and something inside her told her she was nearly touching him now. So, so close…
But could she take the risk? The next step might very well be her last, might sweep her away, drag her into the spirit realm forever.
Wracked with violent shivers, Echo concentrated on the mating bond once more. She sent out a silent plea, hoping desperately for a response.
She felt a soft answer at the other end, weaker than before, but it was enough to make her take another step forward.
The water swelled up to Echo’s mouth, making her heartbeat race even as her body begged her to let go, stop fighting the inevitable. Echo winced and reached out.
Her fingertips brushed cold, solid flesh.
Echo’s eyes snapped open, though it was far too dark to see anything.
Rhys, she thought. I know you’re there.
After a second, there was another tug at their bond. Rhys was calling to her, searching for her.
Echo let herself drift just a little closer, let the water rise until it threatened to cover her nose. She felt around and found Rhys’s thick arm, thrilling at the small victory.
Of course, she’d been so focused on reaching him that she hadn’t considered how she would manage to get him back. She couldn’t do it alone, he would have to help.
Move, she thought. Please, please move.
She yanked at Rhys’s arm
, and to her shock he came along with her, moving easily. The connection, she thought. As long as we are touching, he can still come back.
Echo reached down and linked her fingers through his, then turned and began to push back through the icy stream. It was much harder to move out of the stream, the water growing heavier by the moment. Echo’s muscles strained and jumped, her whole body shaking with the effort of it as she led Rhys on and on.
It felt like the journey hadn’t even begun. It felt as if Echo and Rhys were two tiny specks of dust amongst the cosmos, impossibly small and weak against the forces of the universe. She had been in the river forever. Had she ever known anything else?
Only the feeling of Rhys’s fingers in her own kept her going. She couldn’t remember why she was going, or where, exactly, but she remembered that she was not alone.
Echo’s lungs stung as they emerged from the water, somehow growing colder as they left the stream. When the water was at her shins once more, she glanced back. When she saw Rhys’s face gone white as a sheet, lips turned blue, she started to cry in earnest, the heat of her tears burning her cheeks.
Only the dazzling emerald hue of his eyes gave any indication that he was still alive.
“S’okay,” Echo mumbled, leading him onward. “S’okay.”
And then suddenly, impossibly, they were at the Veil. Echo reached out with her free hand, finding the velvet curtain and parting it. She pulled Rhys close and shoved him through first, then launched herself through.
* * *
Echo’s eyes snapped open. She was in the clearing, slumped over Rhys’s body. She was shivering, shaking so hard that she could barely move.
She looked up to find Aeric and Gabriel standing over her and Rhys.
“Get… blankets,” Echo wheezed. “Hot water…”
Aeric vanished, and Gabriel crouched down to take Rhys’s pulse. He snatched his hand back with a curse.
“He’s freezing!”
“Shift,” Echo groaned. “Keep… warm…”